Ladybugs

I have been trying for days to formulate a blog entry on the topic everyone loves to talk about: sex. But every angle I tried to come in from came out wrong. Chalk it up to my considerable dry spell (who would have guessed a Lusty would subject herself to such undue torment) or the fact that I am bombarded with the sexual proclivities of others at work. Either way, despite being in such a hyper-sexual environment all the time, I can't seem to formulate a worthwhile discussion about sex in the sex industry. In the mean time I write about the things I can't seem to stop talking about.

Lately the dressing room of the Lusty Lady is abuzz with summer romance. If it's not a booth book entry (our collective journal, kept in Private Pleasures) about some Lusty-on-Lusty romance it's one of the ladies in the dressing room, nervously preparing for a date with her newest love interest. This comes as no surprise to me now. How could these beautiful, intelligent, fierce and sexy women not have a million people knocking down their doors for dates? But I didn't always imagine the love life of a stripper to be quite so active. When I started working at the Lusty Lady two months ago I couldn't help but question how my new line of work would affect my love life. At this point I had adopted what I saw as a necessarily apathetic view on relationships. It seemed to me that the more I thought about or wanted someone special in my life, the further my path would stray from it. So I stopped giving a shit about meeting someone. Furthermore, it seemed silly to make an important decision based on the opinion of someone I hadn't even met yet. I decided that my life could not be lived in fear of what someone, someday might think of my decisions. When any one of my friends asked about the impact the choice might have on potential dating partners, as many have, I would tell them that it was a choice made for me and anyone who couldn't accept it ultimately wouldn't be able to accept all of me. Maybe this sounds selfish but I stand by this logic. I have seen the consequences of living one's life for someone else. I've seen more than one girl from my high school graduating class flee her out-of-state college to be with her boyfriend back home or alienate her friends to devote herself to him. Maybe I am wrong, but I think the stakes are higher for women. We live in a world that encourages us to be good wives, girlfriends, caretakers. Not that these roles are bad ones but they threaten to be when they become our only roles. My stance may seem stubborn but I think a less stubborn outlook would have much larger implications for my life than are apparent at the moment.

There's this part in the movie "Under the Tuscan Sun" when the eccentric blonde woman tells Diane Lane's character how she used to hunt for ladybugs as a girl. She would search and search in the grass and find none, eventually get tired and fall asleep. But when she woke up the ladybugs were crawling all over her. That story popped into my head today as I was trying to focus on writing this blog. But I can't seem to focus on much of anything today. Well, that is other than when I'll get to see him next, how his hair smells when it's still damp from the shower or how my scalp starts to tingle when he kisses me very very slowly. Yes, I met someone. Someone whom though I've only just met him seems worthy of more than just a mention in my blog. Someone who makes me laugh when we're together and smile stupidly when we're apart. Someone who surprises me, who intrigues me more and more every time I talk to him. Someone who didn't run for the hills when I told him that I work at a peepshow. That will have to be all for now as I'm sure I could easily get ahead of myself. But I feel as if I have just woken up from a very restful sleep and now there are ladybugs, lots and lots of ladybugs