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Is this real?

A while ago I stumbled across this wikiHow article on dating strippers. It gives nine easy “steps” for snagging the showgirl of your dreams—which are actually useless, demeaning and stereotype-laced suggestions for how to be one of those obnoxious time wasters that we all talk shit about in the dressing room.

Like this, for example, Step Number Six: “Tip her on stage, but don’t get a lap dance from anyone. If you pay for a lap dance from her, she will consider you a ‘regular’ …  She will never date you once that business relationship with her is established.”

Pretty please, just stay home if you are going to be that guy.

Or Step Number One, Offer the Benefit of the Doubt: “Dancers might have had very unfortunate circumstances that you couldn’t even imagine, and might be working at a club to feed their family or send their child to a good school. It’s very easy to judge a book by its cover, but you’ll never get very far with a stripper worth dating if you go that route.”

Yeah, seriously! If you judge a girl for dancing,  you’re never gonna get in that bitch’s pants. Her life was probably really fucked up and she needs you to save her by offering to be her boyfriend. So c’mon, bro, don’t judge.

My favorite is maybe Step Eight, Ask Her Out: “If she isn’t willing to meet you outside the club to hang out, she’s playing you.”

Interesting. I always thought I was just another person at my job, but apparently I guess I owe a date to every guy who asks me, since I’m the victim of “very unfortunate circumstances that you couldn’t even imagine” and all.

I had seen this site a while ago, but looked at it again today for some reason. It’s obviously obnoxious but not totally unsurprising.


This page, though, offers a whole new level of creepy. A guy named William Richardson (a pen name, if he knows what’s good for him) is peddling an Internet book called How to Date a Stunning Stripper. He begins a letter to his potential readers thus:

Dear Fellow Adventurer,

I use the term “adventurer” seriously. It takes an adventure’s spirit to date a stripper. It can seem dangerous and out of your comfort zone, an unpredictable journey into the unknown. But there’s also the thrill, the fun, and the reward.

Success with a stripper will change the way others view you, and more importantly, it will forever change the way you view yourself.

A satisfied customer offers this testimonial:

“Last year my good friend Wills and I exchanged our “100 Things to Do Before I Die” lists. On my list, item #67 is “Date a stripper.” When Wills confessed to have dated a series of strippers and topless dancers, I wanted to know how the hell he was doing it. It actually took him a while to figure it out, but once I started doing the things he had been doing, I got dates too – I’m still amazed!”

Besides being incredibly objectifying, it starts to get super creepy-predatory.

There’s a series of other creepy, loosely related e-books offered on the homepage, like the Secrets of Seduction Guide (because “strippers want a classy m-a-n, not a sensitive new-age wimp”), and The Kama Sutra Guide (because “she has probably heard of this classic, but really knows nothing about it”). Finally, he ends with a money-back guarantee: “With this information you will be a strip club insider tomorrow, next month, and for the rest of your life. After you have finished this material, at the very least, I promise you’ll have a club to call your own, where everyone knows your name, and you can always go for a fun time and not spend too much money.”

Seriously? I know plenty of guys who hang out in clubs all the time, spend no money, and everyone knows their names. They’re time wasters and often unemployed alcoholics, and we despise and avoid them. If that’s what you’re going for, it’s really not that difficult.

I’m curious to read what other advice  Mr. Richardson has to offer, but don’t want to give him any of my hard-earned money to pay for the book. I only hope it was actually penned by a dancer as a ploy to hustle more money from the douchier guys who come in with empty pockets and looking for girlfriends.

Natalie is a writer, editor and stripper from California who works there and in Las Vegas. She strapped on her first pair of seven-inch stilettos and never looked back, despite taunts from the bartender of "Why don't you brush your hair?" and "Grunge isn't cool any more." Ignoring those who were determined to crush her dreams, Natalie persevered, still doesn't brush her hair, and is doing pretty fuckin' fine nonetheless. Also, grunge will always be cool, and the bartender was eventually fired for being an asshole.



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