New City! New Cunts!

And by that I mean that my infallible confidence with which I approach my career and cocktail party embarrassments is inversely proportionate to my zeal in the swindling of lady hearts.

I identify as an invisible lesbian. I love queers and I love all my friends who love knitting and grey water and inner arm tattoos. I, however, don’t ascribe to the queer aesthetic like a lot of finger-banging babes do.

I mean, look, she’s adorable: She’s got swagger and it says “HEY LADIES” all in one breath.

But it sure as hell ain’t me.

When I first came to understand my homofabulousness, I was supremely insecure about this sudden shift in my hitherto I-don’t-give-a-fuck sartorial sensibilities. I wore really, REALLY short skirts, showing off my razor-burnt legs and for whatever reason I didn’t feel embraced by the community into which I thought I would fit. Being a lesbian has never really been my number one priority, though, so, after several failed attempts at wearing wife beaters to queer dance parties and farmer’s markets I gave up and got back to the things that I actually care about: writing, traveling, overpriced six-course meals and getting naked in front of strange men. Needless to say, the beginning marked a dry time for my beloved cunt.

NO WORRIES, THOUGH, FRIENDS, because I have discovered INTERNET DATING.

Online dating existed in 2008, too, when I was running around Montreal in kitten heels, but I wasn’t aware of any of the options that extended beyond craigslist’s w4w and missed connections. I have since educated myself.

Seriously, I couldn’t be gay without the internet.

It may also be worth mentioning that I do not fuck, snuggle or suck face with my fellow strippers. I’m not out at work because my fellow comrades dish this delicious dirt to clients, thus seriously fucking with my business. It’s happened. It’s lame.

So now I’m in a new city and I can re-activate my OK! CUPID profile…

NO

NO NO NO NO NO

Iris, you were supposed to be celibate in New York. You *really* sucked at that.

NOW THAT YOU ARE IN THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE you need to dust off that chastity belt, buy some newwatchvibrator batteries and put on them Real Girl Underwear, CUZ YOU AIN’T GETTING YOUR DICK WET TIL THIS MOTHERFUCKING BOOK IS DONE.

Plus all the chicks you met online were broke. Save your scrilla, baby.

(sorry if the title of this post was misleading)

www.thesapphicstripper.com