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So You Want to be a Stripper... Step 4: The Trust Game


Starting off in the titty business is scary, and no matter how honest and matter-of-fact you are with your civilian besties, they don’t fucking get it. They never will. So, Rookie - who to turn to when the going gets rough?

SPOILER ALERT: No one. This is a test of character. A tough one.

1. Trust in the fact that every man in the club wants to fuck you. This doesn't mean that the cute barback or grinning Wall Street exec is just DYING to get into that tight little g-string of yours, it just means that given the choice between fucking and NOT fucking you, he'd probably choose the former. This gives you power but only if you DON’T EVER FUCK THEM.

In essence, don't shit where you eat.

Bring your hot stripper game ANYWHERE else, announce to your desired slam piece,I’m a stripper!and you’ll get laid faster than you can say SHOWGIRLS. There is nothing worse than a jealous man lingering in a corner while you’re trying to make rent. He will prevent you from paying it on time.

Full disclosure: The only stripper I’ve ever fucked is myself while looking in the mirror. I’m pretty sure my wife has made out with more strippers than I have.

2. If you think strippers are jaded, talk to anyone who runs the joint. Management will throw you under the bus if their ass is on the line. They have no faith in you as a human being (It’s not personal; they hate everything). Pay the exorbitant house fees, adhere to their absurd dress code, and remember that they are probably unflinchingly evil in the worst movie gangster kind of way.

4. For the first six months of your tenure at The Titty Treehouse, TRUST NO BITCH. Friendship can exist and you might feel that you have a solid one after a drunken soiree of fake-fucking a new colleague in the VIP room, but you don’t. At least not for a while.

Trust in the knowledge that every girl is looking out for herself. At one point or another, every stripper has been stabbed in the back and so with good cause we are weary of those quick-to-warm types. If you eagerly divulge all your secrets and baby daddy drama, we will peg you as a con-woman, assume you will eventually ask us for money, and exclude you from the bikini carwash we are always planning but never follow through on.

Be kind, polite and vigilant... and don’t trust anyone until you see how they handle drama, money, drugs and favours (SPOILER ALERT: There is no such thing as favours, only debts that have yet to be paid in the form of cash and only cash).

Ergo -


You are your only ally. Money’s a tough game and stripping isn’t a team sport. Lock up your valuables, grease the right people when necessary, and don’t be surprised when your Dior eyeshadow palette goes missing (BUY THE FUCKING WET ‘N WILD OR SLATHER ON THAT WARPAINT AT HOME).

That said, DON’T BE A SELF-RIGHTEOUS FUCKFACE TO YOUR COLLEAGUES. There is a tonne of money to be made and fun to be had with rad people whom you might not know that well. Just don’t let any of them know where you live and for god’s sake DO NOT GO TO A MAN’S HOTEL ROOM UNLESS YOU ARE BRINGING YOUR MACE, THROWING STARS AND SECRET SERVICE AGENT.