Tag Archives: gf

A Stripper in Sheep’s Clothing – The Enigma

letting-go2I was a virgin. You could say I was a late bloomer. I did not lose my virginity until I was 18 – which of course was still too soon, but that is a totally different topic. I began dancing when I was 18, before I had lost my virginity. I was a virgin, a stripper, a pastor’s daughter, and a Christian – naked and on stage. I was an enigma.

I found myself endeavoring to be the best. I have always been competitive, whether it be in sports, work, or other friendly competitions. I like to be the best. Stripping was no exception. I wanted to be the best stripper in the joint. I wanted people to come from far away just to see the amazing Jezebelle.  I needed to be the one everyone wanted to get a dance from before they left, have customers waiting for me, be the one that everyone is waiting for while they close down the club. I was willing to invest almost whatever I needed to in order to make that happen.

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I was never rebellious, I was a shy good girl at heart. I guarded myself from the things that I thought would make a negative on me, but I compromised on the little things that I thought would help me get a little bit ahead. Outside of the club when I wasn’t working, I would spend my nights drinking heavily, and dancing on bars and stages at dance clubs. I would make out with a handful of men per night, usually anywhere  from ten to twenty five men and a few women per night. I was a tease, protecting my virginity. I received oral sex frequently, but never gave any – feeling justified that I was not a slut because I was still a virgin, and never “gave any favors.”  I would go home with guys and go to after parties that I had no business being at. I wanted to be able to hang on to the idea I had of myself as a good girl. I endeavored to have all the fun that I could while still hanging on to what I thought were good and acceptable morals. The game in my head was to stay a good girl, but to do JUST enough to be accepted in the groups that I thought were important to get in with to be successful.

I wanted to have the outward image of a bad girl, but keep the good girl I was taught to value and protect. I was basically the opposite of a wolf in sheep’s clothing.  I was a sheep in wolf’s clothing. I knew I could be eaten alive if anyone made the discovery.

The crazy thing is; as you grow and mature, you begin to become yourself – care less about what people think of you, and more about what actually matters. For me, there were a few very drastic events that took place in my life, that brought me back to what I valued. These events shook me to the core – back to the things that mattered. Down the road when I was ready to embrace what was most important to me, I was so used to wearing the wolf’s clothing that parts of it, had become a part of me. Returning to the flock was much harder. I had lost a lot of my sheep identity. The enigma was, that when I finally wanted to discard the disguise of a bad girl and return to the innocence I once had – it was gone.

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When my word was flipped upside down and I was ready to return to the flock of sheep, they looked at me like a wolf. I had become a wolf in many ways. Those last few “good” values that I had hung on to for so long had been thrown to the wayside ages ago. I deceived myself telling myself that I was still a “good girl” – the game being comparison – I could always find someone worse. I began as a “good girl” with the disguise of a “bad girl” and warped into the opposite: a “bad girl” trying to play the role of a “good girl.”

In 1 Corinthians 15:33 Paul says “Do not be deceived ‘Evil company corrupts good habits.'”  Basically, if you play with fire, you will get burned – I definitely have my third degree burns. Thanks be to God there is a healer. He tells us “I did not come to call the righteous.” The labels “good girl” and “bad girl” are completely irrelevant to God. Redemption and grace – grace like rain.

“We all once conducted ourselves in the lusts of our flesh, fulfilling the desires of the flesh and of the mind, and were by nature children of wrath, just as the others.

But God, who is rich in mercy, because of His great love with which He loved us, even when we were dead in trespasses, made us alive together with Christ (by grace you have been saved), and raised us up together, and made us sit together in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus, that in the ages to come He might show the exceeding riches of His grace in His kindness toward us in Christ Jesus. For by grace you have been saved through faith, and that not of yourselves; it is the gift of God,not of works, lest anyone should boast.” (Ephesians 2:3-9)

This sheep and wolf thing is just too complicated for all of us. It gets so out of control. We can let go of it, I am no longer a sheep, a wolf, a bad girl, or a good girl. It’s much simpler now. I’m simply a sinner saved by grace. That is my identity. I speak the language of a stripper, a hurt girl, and many others, but God views me as His, as His beautiful daughter – just like His beautiful Son – and with that same purity. My chains are gone. I have been set free!

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Kyle

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YES!!!! Kyle came to see me again!! I was a people person, I generally had fun talking to and getting to know new people all night long, every night was a good night. On the nights Kyle came, that was an extra good night. Many of the girls had regulars at the club that thought they were their boyfriend. I would always feel bad for the poor idiots. In they would come looking for their goddess “girlfriend” night after night. Some would come bearing gifts, designer clothes, flowers, chocolates, you name it. The girls loved these men. Many would take down their phone number so they could notify them of when they would be working, or call them in if they were having a slow night. These brainless boys really thought they were their boyfriends. I always thought it was odd that they didn’t catch on when their “girlfriend” didn’t want to hang out outside the club. I could never bring myself to do that. Requiring someone to pay to spend time with you is one thing, to make them think you care about them when you are really just using them for money – I couldn’t do that.

These desperate men are usually just the way you would imagine them, they look like the kind of guys that would have to pay for a female to talk to them. Don’t get me wrong, then strip clubs have many gorgeous, fun men in them, there for  a good time, but then there are the regulars that have no one else to talk to, and although this sounds so cruel, no one ever wondered why. Those regulars were the ones that fell into these imaginary relationships, the ones that would  pay dance prices just for a conversation with one of the beauties.

Enter Kyle. Kyle was a few years older than me, he was handsome, so attractive, a sweet gentleman with a good job. He came in more and more frequently. First he came with his friends, and then he began showing up alone. He would always spend a few hundred, tip well, get me a drink, and then chat a while.

You can tell when you have chemistry with someone just by giving them a dance. Kyle and I had chemistry. He smelled good. I would loved when Kyle would come to see me. He would ask me out almost every time he saw me, I would turn him down every time.

It was the end of June. This time was different. He told me he wasn’t coming back to see me. He wouldn’t come unless I spent the 4th of July with him. His family was having a bbq and he wanted me to meet them. Everything about him was perfect. Too perfect. He would treat me like a princess, I would end up bored, feeling penned up. I chose to stay with my controlling jobless boyfriend.

Maybe there was a part of us that was exactly the same. Kyle chose a girl he would have to pay to spend time with, one that didn’t give him the attention he deserved without a ridiculous amount of money spent. I chose someone that would never measure up. We both deserved better. We both sought after less than we deserved.

I never saw my Kyle again.

*All names have been changed in this blog including mine – except for Kyle’s.