He was already buzzed when he walked into the club. A tall, dark haired, handsome man in his early 30s, like a prince from a fairy tale,  with much etiquette and education. We sat for a while and talked about his studies in Israel. He was just visiting LA for this one night. Tomorrow he was leaving to go to San Fransisco. When it was my turn to go on stage I was worried another girl would try to steal him away from me. I had liked our conversation. There was an immediate connection to the young man, and I wanted to find out more. But when I stepped off stage no other girl had spotted him. He was still sitting alone, and I walked back to sit with him. I often wonder, when I sit with a young customer like this whether I am a too mature woman for him. Often, I feel a girl in her 20s could be a better match. You cannot read a man’s mind right away. Sometimes, especially with the younger customers, you don’t know what they are looking for. But when I sat back down next to him, he looked at me and said, “You are beautiful.” I answered humbly, “Thank you.” Him once more, and he was drunk enough to speak the truth. This wasn’t a silly pick up line, “No. I mean you are absolutely beautiful!” I don’t take much pride in my external appearance. First of all, you don’t pick your generic disposition. You cannot take credit for how you look. It’s given to you by God and by your parents. Second, to some I am beautiful, others don’t pay much attention to my body shape or facial features. Therefore, I explained, “You would really have to thank my parents for how I look. I cannot take much credit for it.” But I do have to admit I was flattered. But then he said, “You don’t understand. I wish you could see yourself up there. You are absolutely beautiful. You are perfect. Every muscle in you is perfectly defined like a divine creation.” That drove tears into my eyes. What kind words.
We spend several hours together. He was kind, gentle, generous (without me dancing for him). We could just sit and not talk or talk about meaningful subjects. This is a good night at the club. Generosity and kindness, intellectual stimulation, quiet time, and lots of fun. Then, I heard the last call for alcohol. I knew we would never see each other again. We hugged good-bye. It was a bitter sweet good-bye. He said, “I wish I could take you with me to Israel.” I said, “It would be nice to run away but I cannot leave my life.” He said, “We had a really good night together. “I confirmed, “Yes we did.” And I left to change in the dressing room while he walked out the heavy strip club door.
Today, I cried. I am touched by this man’s kindness, and I am sad I will never see him again. But I know too well, only that way it can stay the perfect strip club romance. Perfect, just like each perfectly defined muscle in my athletic body. Perfect forever.

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