For those that have viewed my other Q, i put a alittle thought into the detail.

Time: about 2:30pm – 3:40PM
Date: Yesterday.
Place: Babes Gentlemen’s Club in Fort Myers.

I had some time to kill before i need to pick up my mother from work and after juxtoposing a bar or a food place to do it, I decided why not go to a strip club. I had not been to a strip club before and I thought "what the he//?.

At approximately 3:30 pm I pulled into the parking lot of a dilapidated Gentlemen’s club with a neon sign that said BABES.
I went inside and I approached the bar, the bartender promptly ased for My ID and once he comfirmed that I was 21 I ordered a bottle Michelobe Ultra for (pretty pricey i might add).
I sat for a moment and watched as the scantily clad dancers performed about the pole; when I glanced over she smiled at me.
Flirtatiously , I smilled back, and swiveled my chair towards the bar as I rlled my eyes in her rouse. A dancer approached me and asked me if i wanted a dance, I didn’t really want a dance , I just wanted a quick beer but I had mentioned that it was my first time at a place like that and had asked her her name and started a bit of small talk , and said why not.

I walked with her over to the couch where she proceeded to gyrate her body against mine. I wasn’t sure if i was allowed to touch her and stuff and mentioned something to the effect. She said it was fine if i Played with her breasts, But in her vernacular said " just don’t touch my Va J J". LOL I remember saying something like " so you think I’m a Perv?" , and she was like NO i dont, Those old guys that come here every day, those are pervs lol. I actually got two dances in a row like an idiot.

Afterwards, I paid the girl and sat and smoked a ciggarette and we were talking about some other thing, and she said she had to go and she’d be right back. I sat and fooled with my phone for a second and began to smoke another ciggarette.

When she returned she said that hse had gotten a little busy at the moment and asked if I would be staying longer. I told her that I had to go, that I had something to do and that I sould be leaving shortly.

Thats when she said " oh, well here take my number, I get off at like 7." I said i don’t have texting but. I might call lol.

I’m not rich, and I likely didn’t give that impression – I might have even said aomething about how I see the Money along side with religion and power as the leading causes of strife in the world. So I mean, I don;t think that she would have thought of a motive to increase earnings by developing a bigger clientelle.

What i’m asking esssentially, is wether or not Dancers give out their number "willy-nilly, and to anyone" or is it something that they rarely do. What I have found in similar questions there are three reasons:

1. Intends to make that person a sugar-daddy that would buy gifts and pay some bills.
2. Has an illicit sex bussiness on the side and wants the person to be another jon that will pay an exobient fee to have sex with them. Or to have regulars to dance for.
3. She actually likes the guy and would like to develop a freindship or non-platonic relation ship.

The Question is not wether she would be a good girlfriend, nor is it one of my thoughts on her occupation. The question simply is, would a dancer normally give her number to anyone she dances for. Or is she interested in me for doing so.I’m moving away soon anyway so I don’t care about relationships. I really lost faith in the idea.
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@ Missnaula :

If you had higher than a 10th grade edusation or the attention capacity of a dog, you would find that it would’nt had been difficult to read the question and give a thoughtful and perhaps informative answer. Because you’ve show to have neither of the above your answer is henceforth irrelevant.

It’s a very short "postcard" story for a creative writing class. We were supposed to write on a historical event or person. I chose a pretty famous serial killer (we had to write two, my other on is on the Nazi’s) which I hope people can identify by reading this! I liked my first story better, so I’d really like some opinions on this as I’m not too fond of it. Thanks!

__Beef Jerky, Anyone?___

My stomach soured the first time I saw him. He always brought a smell in with him that was hard to place. The only thing I could compare it to was the odour I had had to endure during my grandfather’s funeral. He always sat by himself in the darkest corner, which was nearly pitch black in that dreary old bar, and his eyes would follow everyone who walked in. He eyed them with the sick look that a butcher would as the cows rolled in: which would make the juiciest steak, or the softest leather? On one rare night, he ordered a drink – water with lemon, I recall – and as I passed it to him, his eyes lingered on my hand. I remember him wetting his lips, a gesture that sent a sickening shiver up my spine, and I crunched my hand into a tight fist in response. I had met some sick people in my profession – being the only waitress at a dead end bar didn’t offer up too many gentlemen – but I had never felt such an intense fear towards anyone. A few days later, he ordered another drink – water with lime, perhaps to give himself a change – and as I dropped it quickly on his table, I noticed an abnormal pendant around his neck. It was strung on with what looked like thick leather, and it resembled something that made my skin crawl: a pair of lips. His eyes caught mine staring and in one abrupt motion, he pulled his jacket protectively over his chest and rushed out the door. I never saw him again but his face continued to haunt the corner of that room night after night.

Months later, he was on the front page of the local paper: convicted of murder, among other things, and housing a revolting collection of his “specialty” furniture. I had to choke back the bile that rose in my throat as I remembered those lips that lay kissing his chest.
___

It’s a very short "postcard" story for a creative writing class. We were supposed to write on a historical event or person. I chose a pretty famous serial killer (we had to write two, my other on is on the Nazi’s) which I hope people can identify by reading this! I liked my first story better, so I’d really like some opinions on this as I’m not too fond of it. Thanks!

__Beef Jerky, Anyone?___

My stomach soured the first time I saw him. He always brought a smell in with him that was hard to place. The only thing I could compare it to was the odour I had had to endure during my grandfather’s funeral. He always sat by himself in the darkest corner, which was nearly pitch black in that dreary old bar, and his eyes would follow everyone who walked in. He eyed them with the sick look that a butcher would as the cows rolled in: which would make the juiciest steak, or the softest leather? On one rare night, he ordered a drink – water with lemon, I recall – and as I passed it to him, his eyes lingered on my hand. I remember him wetting his lips, a gesture that sent a sickening shiver up my spine, and I crunched my hand into a tight fist in response. I had met some sick people in my profession – being the only waitress at a dead end bar didn’t offer up too many gentlemen – but I had never felt such an intense fear towards anyone. A few days later, he ordered another drink – water with lime, perhaps to give himself a change – and as I dropped it quickly on his table, I noticed an abnormal pendant around his neck. It was strung on with what looked like thick leather, and it resembled something that made my skin crawl: a pair of lips. His eyes caught mine staring and in one abrupt motion, he pulled his jacket protectively over his chest and rushed out the door. I never saw him again but his face continued to haunt the corner of that room night after night.

Months later, he was on the front page of the local paper: convicted of murder, among other things, and housing a revolting collection of his “specialty” furniture. I had to choke back the bile that rose in my throat as I remembered those lips that lay kissing his chest.
___

It’s a very short "postcard" story for a creative writing class. We were supposed to write on a historical event or person. I chose a pretty famous serial killer (we had to write two, my other on is on the Nazi’s) which I hope people can identify by reading this! I liked my first story better, so I’d really like some opinions on this as I’m not too fond of it. Thanks!

__Beef Jerky, Anyone?___

My stomach soured the first time I saw him. He always brought a smell in with him that was hard to place. The only thing I could compare it to was the odour I had had to endure during my grandfather’s funeral. He always sat by himself in the darkest corner, which was nearly pitch black in that dreary old bar, and his eyes would follow everyone who walked in. He eyed them with the sick look that a butcher would as the cows rolled in: which would make the juiciest steak, or the softest leather? On one rare night, he ordered a drink – water with lemon, I recall – and as I passed it to him, his eyes lingered on my hand. I remember him wetting his lips, a gesture that sent a sickening shiver up my spine, and I crunched my hand into a tight fist in response. I had met some sick people in my profession – being the only waitress at a dead end bar didn’t offer up too many gentlemen – but I had never felt such an intense fear towards anyone. A few days later, he ordered another drink – water with lime, perhaps to give himself a change – and as I dropped it quickly on his table, I noticed an abnormal pendant around his neck. It was strung on with what looked like thick leather, and it resembled something that made my skin crawl: a pair of lips. His eyes caught mine staring and in one abrupt motion, he pulled his jacket protectively over his chest and rushed out the door. I never saw him again but his face continued to haunt the corner of that room night after night.

Months later, he was on the front page of the local paper: convicted of murder, among other things, and housing a revolting collection of his “specialty” furniture. I had to choke back the bile that rose in my throat as I remembered those lips that lay kissing his chest.
___
Mr Blunt – honestly? It’s a postcard story that I wrote in about 30 minutes for school. I’m not looking for a jaw-dropping, world-stopping publication here. It seems everyone else liked it and understood it, so I’m fine with it. You seriously must hate life when you can’t read anything without being so critical.

There is a difference between constructive criticism, and just being a jacka$$ and not adding ANYTHING to it. You were no help, therefore, don’t even bother commenting. It’s quite simple.
Kissy – It’s not actually a postcard, but they refer to things as "postcard" stories when they are very short. Like these had to be under 1/2 a page long. Thanks though It’s based on Ed Gein, who had a pair of lips actually used as a drawstring on curtains, so I changed it a bit but still used the truth about him.

A timid little man, walked into a biker bar in the Bronx and clearing his throat asked,

"Um, err, which of you gentlemen owns the Doberman tied outside to the parking meter?"

A giant of a man, wearing biker leathers, his body hair growing out through the seams, turned slowly on his stool, looked down at the quivering little man and said,

"It’s my dog. Why?"

"Well," squeaked the little man, obviously very nervous,

"I believe my dog just killed it, sir."

"What?" roared the big man in disbelief.

"What in the hell kind of dog do you have?"

"Sir," answered the little man, "it’s a little four week old female puppy."

"Bull!" roared the biker, "how could your puppy kill my Doberman?"

"It appears that your dog choked on her, sir."

I had posted a version of this question awhile ago while I was still a high school student, but now as I am a college student much has changed. Yet, at times I feel that rather than truly changing I have adopted two different personalities that at certain times clash. What I was before and what I am now is quite a dilemma. So my question is, how do you feel about me before, how do you feel about me now, and how do you think I should integrate my characteristics together? *[Info in brackets indicate me now]*

So, I’ve always been commented for the way I dress, my personality, intelligence, and so on but I’ve never really found that special person who can keep me interested. Sure people come and go, but there always seems to be a lack of that one girl that I can stick with.

If I had to classify myself I would say that I was somewhat "metrosexual", a bit of a nerd, ambitious, humorous but not a class clown, conservative morals.

"Metrosexual" – So yes, I do care how my appearance and my hygiene quite a bit. I was raised in a traditional family so my dressing style has always been preppy, some would say classy, others would say on the verge of homosexual. I would say I dress between a mix of classic, traditional preppy and urban lifestyle preppy. By metrosexual I mean I do care about how I dress, how my hair looks, I use hair products, facial cleansers, cologne. I try my best to keep clean—I am slightly a neat freak—and stay fresh, I follow a nutrition plan and work out at the gym. But I am not extreme, I do not get manicures and pedicures. I do occasionally pick up a copy of Men’s Health, Gentlemen’s Quarterly, or Vogue.

[The past year I have been slacking up much more in my dress code. Because of the college environment I often find myself dressed in sweat pants, a tee, and tennis shoes, but at the same time I continue to dress the way I did before. It troubles some of my friends as they wonder why the drastic difference from day to day and remind me that "dressing up" (which to me is not) is not normal in college. I feel as though I lose a part of myself and my integrity when I dress so poorly.]

Nerd & Ambitious – One of the most important goals of mine is to get into Harvard Medical School and become a cosmetic surgeon, followed by getting an MBA from Harvard Business School. I envision a life helping others and hopefully having time to spend some summers in 3rd world countries to donate money and participate in humanitarian aid groups. I am not ashamed of spending hours studying, volunteering, interning, but I know how to have fun, although I would prefer playing sports to binge drinking and random sex (although I’ve had my fair share of drinking games). [My goals stay the same, but being introduced to the college life as a Freshman I have turned much more into the party boy I did not envision myself as. I find myself going to the bars, frat parties, house parties, etc. on the weekends and occasionally Thursdays and Fridays. I have become much more social than before and have been encountering situations that come along with the active nightlife that I did not want to happen before. Regardless I am somewhat enjoying this new mixture of study and play. Unfortunately, at the same time it is taking away from my time to just have some "me" time or to participate in other activities.]

Humorous – I would say I am a light hearted humorous person but I am not the class clown and I can be serious but funny depending on the situation. [I have dramatic changed from being subtle in humour to being very outspoken in any situation and being a comedian when I can. Don't get me wrong, I do not act like an idiot, but I do bring the fun whenever I can. As before, I would be more or less on the sidelines.]

Conservative morals – I’m not the type of person who will get shitfaced the night before class nor am I into random hook ups. I am not attracted to "hot" girls but would rather use beautiful, pretty, or gorgeous, I don’t know if this makes sense. My sense of fun is probably different from a lot of college students, I would rather go sailing, sitting by the fireplace, sitting on a train going through the fields of tuscany, visiting the luvre, or sitting down by the sand watching the sunset than to go to a party. [These morals have been troubling me lately. As mentioned I have been partying and going out and encountering everything that comes along with that. Essentially looking at this I have broken many of my morals, but emotionally now it is a mixture of liking what I am doing and yet wanting to stick to my beliefs.]

I appreciate nature, luxury cars, art, architecture, furniture (particularly victorian and french). I greatly enjoy cooking, a typical activity associated with women. I occupy a lot of my time playing sports and working out. I do enjoy simple things such as movies, hanging out here and there, going to the pool, whatever, but I prefer doing big exciting or adventurous activities. [All
This portion was cut off:
I appreciate nature, luxury cars, art, architecture, furniture (particularly victorian and french). I greatly enjoy cooking, a typical activity associated with women. I occupy a lot of my time playing sports and working out. I do enjoy simple things such as movies, hanging out here and there, going to the pool, whatever, but I prefer doing big exciting or adventurous activities. [All of this is still true, but as we all know there are only 24 hours in a day. As I think about it I feel as though a lot of my time is consumed by social activities on top of studies. Although it is quite enjoyable to be "in the scene" so to say, it is also very demanding and I feel as though I cannot find a balance between doing everything I like to do and being part of something with everyone else around me.]

I would still like to know what everyone thinks about how I was before, how I am now, and how I should pull my life together.
I wasn’t joking about a very long, serious read.
I don’t expect to get many more answers, but just a few notes to give a better picture.

Yes, I know my dreams are ambitious. I am 100% willing to go through my undergrad, graduate, residency, and practice time. My business goals are linked with my profession as a cosmetic surgeon so it is not two entirely different careers.

A highly timid little man, ventured into a biker bar in the Bronx and clearing his throat asked, "Um, err, which of you gentlemen owns the Doberman tied outside to the parking meter?" A giant of a man, wearing biker leathers, his body hair growing out through the seams, turned slowly on his stool, looked down at the quivering little man and said, "It’s my dog. Why?"

"Well," squeaked the little man, obviously very nervous, "I believe my dog just killed it, sir." "What?" roared the big man in disbelief. "What in the hell kind of dog do you have?" "Sir," answered the little man, "it’s a little four week old female puppy." "Bull!" roared the biker, "how could your puppy kill my Doberman?" "It appears that your dog choked on her, sir."

A highly timid little man, ventured into a biker bar in the Bronx and clearing his throat asked, "Um, err, which of you gentlemen owns the Doberman tied outside to the parking meter?"

A giant of a man, wearing biker leathers, his body hair growing out through the seams, turned slowly on his stool, looked down at the quivering little man and said, "It’s my dog. Why?" "Well," squeaked the little man, obviously very nervous, "I believe my dog just killed it, sir." "What?" roared the big man in disbelief. "What in the world kind of dog do you have?" "Sir," answered the little man, "it’s a little four week old female puppy." "Bull!" roared the biker, "how could your puppy kill my Doberman?" "It appears that your dog choked on her, sir."

funny?

A timid little man ventured into a biker bar and, clearing his throat, asked, "Um, which of you gentlemen owns the Doberman tied outside to the parking meter?" A giant of a man, wearing biker leathers, his body hair growing out through the seams, turned slowly on his stool, looked down at the quivering little man and said, "It’s my dog. Why?" "Well," squeaked the little man, obviously nervous, "I believe my dog just killed it, sir." "What?" roared the big man in disbelief. "What in the hell kind of dog do you have?" "Sir," answered the little man, "it’s a little four week old female puppy." "Bull!" roared the biker, "How could your puppy kill my Doberman?" The man said, "It appears your dog choked on her, sir."