VD

Valentine's Day has come and gone again. Ugh. An old friend who I worked with at my first strip club job sent me a text that said, 'Happy VD, I'm burning for you'. Clever. She's been working as a manager-slash-bartender in a regular ol' bar in the city for the past few years, but with times as hard as they are she's now looking for shifts back in a gentlemen's club. Unfortunately even though many of our old colleagues from years ago (the 'dedicated' male service workers, go figure) have now penetrated the upper echelon of today's clubs, she's had no luck getting back in. Everyone wants a job in the vice industries. Wall Street brokers are even sending resumes to managers for jobs in an attempt to get back some of the money they 'invested' in the clubs before the economy crashed.

Ha ha! I said gentlemen's club. I can't help but want to change up the vocabulary so as not to repeat 'strip club' often, but 'gentlemen's club' is such a euphemism! What a crock. And the 'hosts' are not pimps, the 'lap dances' not over-the-pants frictional jack-offs, 'dancers' not strippers... or hookers. We're even told to never use the word 'cheap', but 'inexpensive' instead. I need to snap out of the gentlemen's club vernacular- NUDIE BAR! SEX SHOW! BROTHEL! NIPPLE DERBIE!!!! Yeah, I looked that last one up. What the hell is a nipple derbie anyway?

Anyway. In the name of St. Valentine, the patron of lovers, let me at least mention those patrons who might be occasionally considered gentlemen. Still, my pseudonym allows me to skip the euphemizing and get straight to the point: the dumb, the dwarfed, the obese, the disturbingly ugly, the crippled- these are the guys who are excused. They are also the ones you're more likely to see on Valentine's Day because they really can't get it on their own. The rest are not gentlemen. They are liars, cheaters, and overindulgent- brokers, lawyers, CEOs, actors and trust fund babies. Those guys spend Valentine's Day with their girlfriends.

Happy VD! I'm itching to make some money.