Hit or Miss? I Bet I Never Miss.

Dear Diary,

 I’m trying to be a good person, but my roommate makes it soooo difficult.

 To start, she is such a jealous human being and you can’t help but want to screw with people like that. Even when I’m not trying to mess with her, she gets huffy and defensive when I mention the smallest bit of good news  I’ve received. You want examples? Don’t worry, I have examples!

 One time me, Amy, and Jessica had brunch at the Ritz Carlton because Amy’s sugar daddy was staying in the city on a business trip and he told Amy she could charge whatever she wanted to the room. Okay, so we have brunch and its chill and I was so relaxed I tell my roommate afterward. I thought she’d think it was cool because she’s a sugar baby and she has a few sugar daddies herself.

 Not the case at all.

 She acted so weird. It was like a combination of hurt, longing, and rage crossed her face. It freaked me the fuck out. At the same time, I was mad because we live together and I always act happy for her when she tells me random shit that happens to her. It’s not my fault she’s 33 and pissed at where her life is—it’s like how does a 23 year old have more maturity than you? It’s not supposed to happen like that...

 Anyway, there’s this guy who wants to be my sugar daddy so he came to Rosewood and surprised me with some Manolo sandals and Prada sunglasses. Like I said, I’m trying to be a good person.

 But I left them on the couch for my roommate to see.

All or Nothing

Metaphysical Description of Desire 

Soft, smooth and inviting, he grips his pillow thankfully. The pillow doesn’t turn him away, doesn’t leave in the middle of the night wordless. So he lets out a sigh of relief and pulls a blanket around himself. Only with the warmth of the pillow and blanket engulfing his small frame does he sleep. The first decent sleep he’s had in weeks.

Reference

October 5, 2018. 

New York, New York.

Continued

Whenever my mind wanders it finds its way to you. Baby I can treat you better than he can. And any girl like you deserves a gentleman. I shouldn’t have let you hold me.

Metaphysical Description of Desire 

Loneliness reminded them of its presence when they least expected. If I was your woman, if I was your man, I would treat you better than he can. Ask me to love you. 

No.

Why not.

Because I asked someone before. And she agreed. And we lived happily for five years until she decided she didn’t want to love me anymore. So he clutches his pillow tighter and I let him. Having some of him is better than nothing.

Reference

Text messages. Approximately 737. May 18, 2018-November 20, 2018.

Thoughts I Have At 1:00AM

Dear Diary,

I did it again.

I am so so so (times one million) over this feeling. I am done feeling sad. I am done feeling angry. I. AM. DONE. CRYING. So why can’t I stop looking at his Instagram page?

Do I want to see him with some model drinking champagne in some stupid club? No—no I don’t. I honestly don’t even want to look at his face anymore.

Okay, that’s a lie. That is such a lie.

The only reason I creep is so that I can see pictures of his face. Does that make me weak? Am I a bad feminist for wanting to see him after he was so awful to me? Where the fuck is my pride?

 I wish he was different. Or that I was different or that, somehow we could have both stayed the same and our ‘not” relationship would have worked out. Does that make sense? How could it have worked out if neither of us changed...or if I do change will I still want him? He didn’t even ask me to change I’m just sitting here at 1am rambling to myself, loosing sleep over someone who’s clearly not thinking about me.

 I should role a J and go to bed, put my phone down and try to get some sleep tonight.

Solo Trip

Seattle

      I didn’t know how long I was going to stay, and this was a problem considering I had a limited amount of money. Still, the city had been on my list of places to see for a while and I was determined to make the most of my unplanned layover. I was lucky, others were not. I used the charm I had cultivated as an exotic dancer and had arranged a flight back to Boulder the next morning. It helped that I wasn’t an entitled, insufferable asshole.

This one guy was a prime example of the latter.

Man: I need a flight back to Tucson, today. Make it happen.

Flight attendant: We’re sorry sir, but there are no plans out of the area to that location at the moment.

Me:…

Flight attendant: What do you need Miss?

Me: So I’ve already got a flight back home. Is there any way possible I could also get my taxi and hotel covered?

I got cocky. I bragged about my hidden magic to a fellow traveler before I got my answer. Still, hostels are cheap and no matter what you do you can hear people fucking.

Austin

      This hostel I hated. It was cramped and small in a way that was not charming. My room was co-ed which meant men and women could bring men and women into the room to share a bed. Above me I heard

Squeak

Squeak

Ugh.

And it was over in a way that was not at all cute or charming.

New Orleans

            This hostel I really liked. Maybe it’s that people in the South are much nicer than people everywhere else...maybe it’s the air in the cities past the Mason Dixon line. Anyway, for the first four nights all my roommates were guys. They were all pretty cute and the ones from Germany and England wanted to get it.

            I let the English one have it, outside of the hostel at around 3:15 am. The owner and his friend came out halfway through and I was so embarrassed. Then we finished in the shed. After it was over, we cuddled in his bunk bed.

New Rules

Here are things to keep in mind. Always. Throughout your life.

1. Insta-stalking is never a good idea. Honestly. Who does this help? Does it help you? No. It doesn’t and you’re lying to yourself if you say it does.

2. Give yourself more time than you think you need. What’s the worst that could happen? You’re early? You finished a project ahead of schedule? Boo-hoo.

3. It’s okay to be a weirdo. You don’t have to be cool and you don’t have to be perfect in order for people to love you. No one’s ever said you have to be perfect and if they did they’d be lying because perfection is an insult to God. And people who pretend to be cool suck.

4. You have to work for what you want and you have to work very hard. Some things come easy—that’s called talent. But success doesn’t come from talent. It comes from cultivation. Genius is hard work and greatness takes practice.

5. Love yourself, have a mature character, and maintain a positive attitude. Number five comes courtesy of my late grandmother.

Bronx Twilight

Because the sun has yet to rise, the building is obscure. White light radiates from buzzing light bulbs and hits the freshly painted white brick. It also touches the trash cans and pale, smooth concrete. Besides the buzzing light and the occasional car, the only sound emitting from the window is the wind. It’s like a city of formless people, casually moving toward their jobs or returning home from a graveyard shift. The wind rustled at 5:13am, the lids of the trash cans were jolted and shook as the formless rushed passed, anxious to reach their respective destinations—home to the people they loved or work to support who(m) they loved. Now it’s 5:35am and the brick, the trash cans, the pale smooth concrete are all covered in a Bronx twilight.

The brick has been painted white and because the white isn’t covered in black it looks clean. White-washed. Dimples and depressions are still visible so if I ran my finger over the brick I would observe my hand afterward and find no dirt, no trace of what I’ve done, but I would have felt the brick in my hand and known that no amount of paint can hide what something is.

Fire can. Fire and pressure can change something into something else. So can the wind. With enough time, the formless people can sand the brick into something as smooth as the concrete on which it stands. Water too, could shape the dimpled and dented brick into something different all together, but this to would take time. Fire would be quick. Within a day everything, all the trash and the brick and glass, everything that makes up the building would be left to ash for the formless people to carry away.

Luckily, there is no fire and it is 5:45am and I wonder if twilight has lifted. 

The sound of wind is louder and I wonder if this is the rush hour of the formless. I wonder if I am intruding on their space, their time in this world, by being awake at their hour, for being awake for the past four hours. I wonder if we have an uneasy treaty, the humans and the formless, and the only reason we have windstorms and hurricanes is because people like me infringe on their time. The storm is their form of rebellion. Give us time on the planet too, they say, the world is ours as well.

We humans haven’t got the memo. The sound of cars begins to increase and I hear a plane push the formless out of its way. The sky has a purple-orange hue and I wonder how much of the purple and orange is due to humans and the buzzing light bulbs we place along the street to help us see. How much orange is really just the sky refusing to accept light from below and pushing it back into human eyes, punishing us for our need to see and roam the earth long after she has decreed it time to rest. Our punishment is purple light, colored with orange, prohibiting us from watching the stars.

Too Lazy To Work

Dear Diary,

 I had an argument with my mom today.

 She doesn’t get it. She really doesn’t get it. She had everything handed to her. She’s always lived in the same area of the world. She literally has done everything society expected of her—she’s never had to work for anything. And she called me lazy.

 I was complaining about the cost of living in New York and she told me I just need to work harder. True, so I said,

 “I know mom, I’m just venting.”

 Then she said, “Well, sweetie—and I say this with love—you need to get over yourself. An Ivy League degree doesn’t guarantee success and your father and I worked very hard to give you the best of everything.” Hold the fucking phone.

 I said, “What’s with the lecture? Am I not allowed to complain?”

 Then she said, “It just seems like you want the best of everything without putting in the effort. Yes, New York is an expensive city, but you choose to live there. Your father and I said you could always live at home until you’ve acquired a bigger savings--” Side note who in the hell voluntarily lives with their parents after college, “and you were the one who chose to go to that expensive school when State would have given you a free ride.”

 UGH, THERE IT IS AGAIN.

 Am I wrong for having dreams? Am I stupid for wanting to live outside of my little mid-Western town? Am I lazy for wishing my rent could be paid on the 30k I make as an editor?

 Rather than have the same old argument with her, I said, “Okay mom, I hear you. I love you but I gotta go” and I hung up before she could respond.”

 I was so stressed out I couldn’t edit for hours. But you helped with that Diary, I feel better now.

 Now I need to vape some CBD to take the rest of the anxiety away...maybe with a little THC.

Too Proud To Be Kept

Dear Diary,

 Ugh...I really don’t want to complain but I think Mickey only sees me as a sex object.

 Shocker, right?

 I mean, don’t get me wrong—I’m fine with being flown out and shown off...it’s just that...maybe it’s the way he does it that pisses me off. For example, he asked me to take time away from Rosewood so I can go with him to some conference in LA.

 Number 1, I HATE LA and number 2 he said, and I quote, “Make sure you dress like a girl this time.” Like, WTF is that supposed to mean?

 So, I asked him, NICELY, what do you mean and he said—and I swear this is a direct quote,

 “Wear some of the Chanel I bought you. None of the Supreme or Anthropologie.”

 ...

 WHO THE FUCK DOES HE THINK HE IS??? TELLING ME WHAT TO WEAR...I thought about telling him to go fuck himself, then I was like wait...he’s the lease holder on the apartment. If he wanted to, he could snap his fingers and I would have 30 days to find another place to live. I really don’t think he would do that but...it still sucks that he could.

 Also, I don’t want to look like a second wife or a sugar baby all the time. I want to look like me. I want to wear pony tails and Supreme. I wish he saw me as more of an equal...I have an Ivy League degree and I’m still treated like a stupid trophy. He acts like all I’m good for is sex and being shown off.

 I’m more than eye candy, I’m soul food—to quote Tumblr (side note: I gotta visit a soul food restaurant. I bet there are good ones in Harlem).

 Anyway, I guess I just needed to vent. I know, someday, I’ll find a guy who cares about me. Someone who won’t mind when I don’t wear makeup or disagree with one of his friends. Until then, I’m getting high.

 And waiting.

A night at Rosewood Theater.

I feel that life is about experiences. The more you have, the richer your life becomes. I may be “poor” financially but when it comes to experiences I’m extremely rich…which is why it always amazes me when I meet a successful man who’s never really lived. What are they waiting for? Your one life will be over before you know it. Put your energy into living, not just making a living.

Take Me Back

I was at dinner with Mickey when I saw Jenn across the street. She wasn’t with another girl. I don’t even know why I’m writing about this...I said I was over it. That obviously isn’t true.

How is it that she still haunts me? After all this time you would think I was ready to move on and seeing her wouldn’t affect me the way it does. But there she was, getting coffee at some hipster dump, and I couldn’t stop staring. Maybe it’s always like that with your first?

I wish someone would explain to me what exactly happened between us. Do connections like that come and go often? Is it possible to sustain a flame that bright without fuel that could kill us both? I know I’ll never get answers to my questions so...I guess I should take solace in the fact that we’ll always have Havana.

Secrets, c. 2019. Reality on 35mm.

Secrets, c. 2019. Reality on 35mm.

some secrets are best untold

On Integrity

Is It Wrong To Like Nice Things?

Dear Diary,

         A wise woman once said, “Happiness is the same price as red bottoms.” I speak of none other than the modern-day philosopher that is Ariana Grande. While I am just kidding, I did want to update you on my trip to Dubai and my new friend Mickey. I just got back to the Village today.

         I think I mentioned that we met during a slow night at the club. It was so weird because his friend Carl was acting super awkward and Mickey was staring at me even though his so-called friend was sitting next to him the whole time. Eventually, Carl asked Mickey if he wanted to talk to me and Mickey’s mouth said “yes”, and his face said “finally.” I didn’t mind talking to him because he was cute—but I didn’t plan on giving him my number. We danced together all night.

         He is so charming its annoying. I always like being in control of my mind and my body. But with him its different, it’s like he’s in control. He dominates parts of my body and mind that no one has before. It’s kind of scary...I wish I didn’t like it.

         The first time we had sex he tied me up and fucked me standing. He had me bent over his bed, zipped tied to the frame and he fucked me so hard...and so good...I was dripping, and I came so much. He’s only the second guy to make me cum during sex (Aakara was the first but let’s not talk about him). To be honest...he made me cum during our dance together too. I don’t even know why, all he did was touch my nipples and kind of hold my back while I grinded against him. Something about that...it made me feel like I was his.

         After we had sex I hung out at his place and he mentioned—casually—that he was flying to Dubai (Emirates, First Class) and he needed a date for his brother’s wedding. He said it like it was no big deal, and I guess, to him, it isn’t. I told him I couldn’t take that much time away from the club (this city is expensive, and I don’t make that much freelancing). He said it was not a problem and told me to tell him how much I usually make in a week.

         I said, “Why, are you going to make sure I’m covered for the week?”

         And he said, “No. I’m going to make sure you’re covered for two weeks.”

         He said it so casually, the way he always does. So...yeah, that’s why I spent last week in Dubai. I guess I have a new friend.

A New Friend

Dear Diary,

 I don’t even know where to start...but...I guess I’ll try.

 So, to start, it was a slow night at the club and I low key wished I had stayed home to write. For a while it seemed like I would have made more money freelance editing than stripping for the kind gentlemen who pay me so well. But right when I was about to check my phone for the thousandth time that night (knowing full well most of my friends back home are asleep) a group of guys walk in, not many, just three dudes. Actually, there were four but the forth one was swept away as soon as he walked in.

 Anyways, they seemed more interested in talking to each other than the girls who sat beside them, so I kept to myself while keeping my eyes on the door (I am so over spending the night talking to finance bros who don’t “pay for conversation”). But, one of them kept looking over at me—lowkey, he was staring. Eventually one of the girls came over to me and said, “My friend thinks you’re pretty if you want to come sit with us.” And I was surprised, not only because he wanted this girl to introduce me, but also because she called him her “friend.”

 I said, “Oh, that’s your friend? I assumed he was just a customer or—”

“I know.” She cut me off and that’s where our conversation ended.

But when I finally got to their table...it was hella awkward. Number one, she (the girl, I think her name was Jessi) sat next to the guy who was staring at me, so I sat next to someone else in their group, Carl.

 Carl offered me champagne three times within fifteen minutes, even though I told him I didn’t feel like drinking the first two times. He repeatedly looked over at the guy who was staring at me, like he was afraid of him or something. Eventually Carl stops talking to me all together and says, “Hey Mickey, come switch places with me.”

 “Mickey”, the one who had invited me over in the first place, says— “Okay” like he had been waiting for Carl to say that all night.

 Oh crap...someone’s at the door. I guess I have to finish this story later, but I will say...there’s a reason I’m in Dubai right now.

Why Did You Make Me Care?

Men. Fucking. Suck.

Especially the cute ones with smoky brown eyes and stubble on their chin. The men with curly dark hair and dimples in their cheeks, the ones with a strong voice and stronger hands. Those men. They suck, they suck so bad.

I’m not really talking about anyone specific...and that’s the sad part. Why is dating so difficult? Why do guys—or, okay people in general—ghost after getting to know someone? Why does it seem like the people who don’t ghost only want sex? Or they want sex and friendship but no commitment. It’s like they want all of the benefits of being in a relationship with none of the drawbacks.

Okay, maybe I am talking about someone specific. I’m thinking about Aakara...I’m thinking about Aakara even though I’m dating Michael. And it’s like why? Why am I still thinking about him? Why can’t I get him out of my mind? I know he treated me like garbage, and he was manipulative, and he was way way old for me...but I keep thinking about what things would be like if it, our relationship (or lack thereof), worked out differently—or how things could be if he was different.

Why is it that the one guy who makes you feel alive, the one whose text makes your day and whose touch lingers so long after he’s gone—why is he the one who wants nothing to do with you once the sun comes up?

I was thinking the other day: I’ve never seen him in broad daylight. It was always at night or sometime after dark. Is he ashamed of me? If one of his friends found out we did more than have sex, that sometimes we had long conversations in the dark and how he once begged me to stay the night because he didn’t want to be alone—would he be embarrassed? He always said he didn’t care that I danced, but...but I don’t know if I believe him. Why can’t I shake the feeling that he did care...that he used it as an excuse to treat me like a sex object (or a pillow, depending on the night). Why did he make me care about him if he was only going to push me away?

I’m sorry, I don’t mean to complain. I know I’m young and pretty and I’m dating an amazing guy...I just wish I didn’t miss the guy who made me feel amazing and shitty at the same time.

A Slut With Standards

Dear Diary,

     Okay so I know I’m being immature but hear me out.

      I was on Facebook, procrastinating before my date with Michael (I know I need to stop seeing him, but that is not the point!) when one of my friends posted a throwback. It was all of us at Press Play some night before school started but everyone was back in town regardless (I think it was MLK day weekend). Anyways, Craig commented first because he’s always on Facebook even though the website died years ago—and he left a crying face emoji. Innocent enough, right? Laughing while crying (or crying while laughing take your pick) because we all look goofy. Not only was the photo taken on a potato, but we look so happy to be in a bar—you can tell we’re freshman. Okay so Anna comments next because it’s her photo and she also hasn’t gotten the memo that Facebook is dead.

         She says, “lol where were you” because apparently Craig wasn’t even in the picture (I hadn’t noticed, I only got a notification because she tagged me).

         And Craig says, “I was hiding from Eve. ‘CRAIG CRAIG CRAIG’ ”. This fool also tagged me so now I have two notifications.

Then Anna’s enabling, Facebook using ass has the gall to say, “She probably had a crush on you.”

INSERT BARF EMOJI.

Craig. How dare she think I had a crush on Craig??! If anything, he had a crush on me! I know some people think I took his V-card (CJ—the guy I actually did have a crush on-- teased me about it...then admitted that he was just joking because he knew I had higher standards). I hate when people assume my niceness equals attraction or that I’m flirting for anything other than practice. Like seriously, why would I date Craig when I was trying to bag CJ and before that I was trying to get Derrick to fuck me...Craig wasn’t even on my radar.

         But I can’t say that because then the lady doth protest too much. Also, I don’t wanna hurt his feelings.

So, I comment, “fake news. I had bigger fish to fry.”

And Craig responds with a laughing emoji and says, “yeah you definitely did.”

Anna hasn’t said anything and I logged off Facebook anyway because I have a life outside of a dead social media platform. Also, because I’m waiting for Micheal to text me back.

         Hopefully now my reputation is intact...I don’t care if people think I’m a slut, but they at least need to know I’m a slut with standards.

Mr. Wolf with Amber and Jess

Location: Crowne Plaza HY36, New York City.

After Rosewood Theater I had a night cap with Amber and Jess. Close friends who looked forward to getting even closer.

After being best friends for years, they moved together from Florida to New York City for college. One sells her panties online while the other has a sugar daddy. They discovered Die Happy Tonight as a fun way to continue exploring their sexuality and help pay for the high costs of living in the City. They always dreamed of “doing something naughty together”…these photos were the start of that.

….

Part art piece, part expose, the “Mr. Wolf” photo series captures the intimate moments of Die Happy Tonight models - after the party. Shot by Die Happy Tonight’s Founder. To sponsor a shoot, click here.

Dear Young Woman: Please forgive me.

Dear young woman,

I just wanted to remind you that not all men suck and sometimes you’re better off without us anyways.

Sincerely,

Die Happy Tonight’s Owner & Founder

p.s. I’m a 37-year old man. A man who’s single, never married and with no children. I live in a nice house, drive a nice car and wear nice clothes. From the outside, you’d think I have the perfect life. My life is very far from perfect. I’m a man who’s been lost, who’s hated himself, who’s unfulfilled, often lonely, who doesn’t have it all together, and who has taken his life for granted.

And shamefully...I’ve taken the women in my life for granted.

I’ve paid for the company of women. I’ve used my position of power to manipulate women. I’ve hurt women I love deeply emotionally. My previous relationship even became physically violent. I’ve cheated more times than I can remember. I’ve lied to women close to me to cover it all up. I’ve lied to myself.

Like some lost men do, I lied to myself and put the blame of my shortcomings on others - particularly women. I want you to know, it’s NEVER the woman’s fault for a man to act like a “pig”.

Whenever a man acts less than a man it is due to simply a lack of integrity. Nothing else. Integrity is our guiding principals in all that we do and all that we say. It’s easy to lose our integrity and, thankfully, it’s also easy to get it back. So, please don’t give up on us.

But, I’m here to tell you  - you don’t need us.

You don’t need a man to feel loved, to feel beautiful, or to feel wanted. You simply need someone, anyone, to lift you up. To be a POSITIVE force behind you during your journey called life. On this journey, it’s your responsibility to learn how love yourself, love the skin you’re in and to desire nothing more than what’s already inside of you.

You’re a POWERFUL human being. You don’t, and can not, realize how powerful you truly are...yet.

You haven’t lived long enough to know what you’re capable of. Be PATIENT; you have a long life ahead of you. Be FEARLESS. Take risks. Be INDEPENDENT. Live alone. Forgive yourself and FORGIVE OTHERS. INVEST in and LOVE YOURSELF. Once you fully connect with that person inside of you...I promise your ENTIRE world will change.

An evening with Jen and friends.

Our dear friend Jen Senn joined us at our weekly clubhouse event last Monday to document the start of the evenings activities. No cameras allowed once the real fun begins.

To my past self;

To my past self;

I don’t think you’d believe me if I told you that you’d be a stripper one day. I bet you’d laugh in my face, tilt your head backwards and let a snort rip out from your lungs.

Truth be told, I’m surprised about it too.

I never thought I’d be a stripper. The little girl in me (that’s you) had bigger, better dreams. Why subject yourself to seedy people, places, and spaces, if in your heart you were set on changing the world?

You see, I want you to hold on tight to those dreams. However small or outlandishly big they are. On your bad nights, I want you to remember that there’s a reason why you’re here. Through the foggy haze after a storm, there will be clarity. Hold tightly to those dreams, because they’ll keep you afloat. There are people who might kill your spirit, but they can never touch your hopes, your visions, your resilience.

I’m writing you to tell you that when you’re feeling lost, the answer’s already within you.

I want to remind you that wherever you are, you are powerful beyond imaginable.

Remember that when you go to bed, you are at peace with your soul. You treat others how you’d want to be treated; no one is beneath you. They stand next to you.

The little girl in you remembers that if everyone held hands and worked together, that the world would be a better place.

You may ask what the fuck this hippie-dippy shit has to do with being a stripper.

Absolutely nothing.

This letter is just a reminder of your potential. That you need not be misled or swayed by the opinions of others. Everything you need for growth is within you. You will come across some ill-intentioned people, but it’s okay. Know that your own growth is what’s important, and that some people choose to live an incredibly stunted life.

After all, wouldn’t it suck if his doctor recognized him as “that asshole from eight years ago who tried to finger her and haggled her over a $20 dance?”

Remember that even if you feel powerless now, that one day your skills, your drive, your passion will be sought out and recognized. That regardless of the current ebbs and flows of life, you are a gift to the world.

Take that and run with it, my love.

Go fucking change the world.