This is not a strip club. I am not a potential stripper's douchebag boyfriend. I don't have the hair for it, nor do I have the neck tattoo. When you walk up to me and announce that you are a stripper in a regular bar, what the shit do you expect? A free drink? Forty bucks? No. You get that shit from me when you are at your strip club stripping. There I will be amazed by your athleticism, taste in music, and pole tricks. I'll get hammered and drop forty bucks so you can pretend I'm interesting. Out here, in the world? Nobody gives a shit. Except neck-tattoo guy. A stripper girlfriend completes his image.
Dear Stripper: I'm Not Your Monkey
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