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10 Things a Stripper Will Never Tell You - on


It's no secret - I can't keep secrets! Thanks, for having me!

Jacq is a 20-something woman making her way in New York City. She’s a writer and she’s a stripper and in this special guest post she’s revealing the 10 secrets a stripper will never tell you.


I want to get this out of the way first, because after a few drinks even I am feeling pretty ballsy about asking a hot, seminaked chick out. You're going to try, so why don't I at least help you out. I am probably a better wingman than your five-drinks-in buddy, anyway.

Instead of asking her for coffee, for dinner or for her phone number,ask her what days she works. Although it's frowned upon, every dancer has dated a guy she met at the club at some point. If you're actually into her and want to be guaranteed to see her again, just come back to where you know you can find her. Show up before the club gets busy, buy her a drink, tip her for her time instead of getting a dance and see how it goes. If that's not a fucking date then I don't know what is.

If you're that keen on falling in love with a stripper, or at least seeing what she looks like in your T-shirt in the glow of your open refrigerator at midnight, be prepared to put in the time...and money. Dates cost money, so why not have one on her turf? Maybe she'll start to like you, or trust you enough to want to sit on your lap without a bouncer at her beck and call!


I almost became a stripper five years before actually getting the guts to take it all off. The social stigma kept me from walking into strip clubs. I have since overcome that. It took some time. Now my parents ask me, "How's the club?"

Most strippers I know love getting paid (read: validated) for feeling sexy and sharing that with others, and personally I’ll be doing this job for as long as it makes me happy. A lot of people assume that we do it because we were broke and had mouths to feed, and although this can be true, a lot of the time we just like being naked, flirty and worshiped. Can you blame us?


(Photo by Jessie Adler)


Not all the men in the club are douche bags, and by assuming that you're the only one who is not a douche bag, you are—inadvertently—a douche. We like guys who walk in with respect for us and for the other clientele. Sometimes I think guys should go for more mani-pedis, because strip clubs can be a place for bitching and moaning and judgment about the other guys in the room. Relax! Focus on the beautiful set of tits in front of you and appreciate that there is a place for Gramps to get excited without popping a boner watching Beyoncé in the halftime show in your living room.

Truthfully, I deal with douche bags all day and all night: When I'm walking past a construction site, I put my head down and pretend that I don't hear anything. It's terrible! But at the club, I'm significantly more quick-witted and uncompromising. Maybe it's the eyebrow penciling, maybe it's the shoes; whatever it is, strippers don't take shit. It's quite satisfying.


The only way I can explain why I can drink every guy under the table is that strippers have alcoholic superpowers. I think the club might serve as some sort of force field for naked chicks, because we can drink and drink and drink. The guys get plastered and I miraculously keep the poise and grace of a three-time-winning Miss America. I have a few theories about why this is so, but cannot seem to confirm any of them:

i) Watered-down booze: Strip clubs are notorious for watered-down alcohol, but it's across the board—there isn't a “weak booze” bottle for dancers and 100-proof for clients. There are mocktails girls can order to keep it together, but that's no fun!

ii) Being naked boosts a chick's ability to metabolize alcohol: Given the fact that we are stripped down to mesh and lace microthongs, we need to keep our bodies warm by bouncing up and down while spinning around a pole. I haven't quite figured it out, but I'm not ashamed to admit that I am a remarkably high-functioning lush.


I deliberately avoid wearing glitter or heavy perfume because I understand and respect that you're probably going home to your queen—your rock, your ball and chain—at the end of the night. I don't want to get you in trouble; I want you to come back and see me again without getting busted.

I am certainly not qualified to offer any advice in the department of making sure you don’t get in trouble at home...I just try my best to hold up my end of the bargain by not texting during the evenings and weekends or letting my makeup rub off on your clothing during dances.


For the final secrets and the rest of the article, click here.