Sunday, August 31, 2014

Out of Left Field

The following story was written by Male Stripper Tanner, who was also interviewed in my book. 

Male Stripper Tanner

Friday, August 29, 2014 –

The month of August was a milestone month for me. First, it marked my 1 year anniversary as a male stripper on the private show circuit. Also it was both a busy and lucrative month.  My previous record of $370 earned in one show was smashed by my new record of $634! This major financial triumph also contributed to my most earned record for 1 night of stripping gigs- $1,130! I had two other shows prior to the one that netted $634.

Aside from these financial highlights, every show I performed in went perfect with satisfied customers and a plethora of compliments ranging from my physical appearance to my great showmanship which prompted one surprised and skeptical bachelorette to exclaim - “You handled yourself with flair!”

With such positive reinforcement and great experiences, I was on a high of happiness and confidence. I felt like I could take on any show and bring down the house. This feeling however would meet its dark fate.

An 8pm Friday bachelorette party had been booked for me a month in advance and I was ready to embark on this show and continue my streak of successful shows as August was winding down to its last weekend.

I was given a number to contact and an alternate number for back up. I called prior to leaving to make sure I had the correct address and to get some logistical questions answered. Basically my typical pre-show chat.

“Hello” said a lady with a slight accent.

“Hi, I’m Tanner, how are you?”

I’m fine, how are you?

“Good. I’m this evening’s entertainment.”

“Oh, hi” her voice lit up.

I then proceeded to ask my routine questions such as if this was intended to be a surprise, what kind of music source they had, how many ladies etc...

Everything was confirmed and I was on my way.

The bachelorette party had at least 10 ladies with more expected on their way. The venue was in a high rise apartment on the 7th floor. I parked on the street a block away and proceeded toward their building. I was dressed in my usual suit and tie, and the white collar theme is a typical skit I do that has universal appeal.
I arrived at the main entrance of what was a higher end apartment dwelling.  I realized that there were two sets of glass doors with the second being inaccessible unless someone lets you in.  I proceeded to call the number I had called earlier that evening to inform them I had arrived. It went to voice mail. I then sent a text.

“We’re coming down” was the response.

About two minutes later I saw what appeared to be an attractive black woman approaching the first set of glass doors and pulling them open. I simultaneously made my way to the first set of glass doors and pulled one open and walked in. 

It turned out the lady was Hispanic with a dark tan complexion and she cracked a smile while making steady eye contact with me.

“Hi how are you?” she asked.

“I’m fine, my name is Tanner, how are you?” I replied.

“I’m fine, how are you? Oops, I just asked you that” she said in a shy laughter.

I had the impression she was a little nervous in comparison to the other women I had met in past shows prior to the party.

We promptly headed toward the elevators and she led the way by 2-3 paces. She had on a nice top and had a small waist which accentuated a prominent yet shapely butt and hips hugged firmly by long black tights.

“So have you ever done this before?” I asked

“Have a male stripper? No.” She answered in a smiling yet shy demeanor.

We reached the 7th floor and exited the elevator. I pulled out my IPod Nano and showed her my playlist of songs.

“Press this button, the first song. Don’t hit shuffle. I need the music to proceed in this particular order” I instructed.

“Ok” she replied.

“When I hear the music, I am going to enter the room.”

“Ok” she answered.

At this point through my peripheral vision I spotted someone turning in from the hallway into the corridor were we were standing. It was another lady from the show. She was also Hispanic, stood about 5’4” with a very dark tan complexion. She had acne blemishes on both of her cheeks and she was on the pudgy side. She had a handful of cash.

We locked eyes.

“Where is the guy?” she exclaimed while turning to the lady who met me downstairs.

The first girl gave a puzzled expression. “This is him,” she replied.

As this brief conversation transpired, within fractions of a second, a big “WHAT-THE-FUCK???” crossed my mind. 

“You are not the guy I picked! I picked a guy named Brandon off the site,” she insisted.

At this point all the positive, successful and happy experiences which marked the month of August just flashed by my eyes.  Instead a dark cloud of embarrassment and confusion settled in. To say this lady’s reaction came out of left field would be an understatement.

“You picked who?” I asked to avoid any potential awkward silence.

“I picked Brandon, the Latino guy,” she firmly stated.

At this point I thought maybe reverting to humor could change the tide.

“I’m him, the white version,” I answered back.

My attempt at softening the blow was not effective.

“No you are not, I picked Brandon!” she continued.

At this point the lady who originally met me downstairs immediately shuffled off heading down the hallway and disappeared into a room.

“Look, it’s nothing personal against you but the bride-to-be is expecting Brandon, she even saw his pictures.”

“Well, I don’t know what to say, perhaps he couldn’t make it and I was dispatched here instead” I countered.

“No” she responded while shaking her head.

Prioritizing the need to display professionalism I said “I’m sorry, too bad things didn’t go as planned.”
I then turned and walked away in the direction of the elevators and she subsequently went the opposite direction back to her room.

A shout of “OH MY GOD,” resonated down the hallway as she slammed the door shut.

I later got to my car and texted my agent notifying him of what happened.

“Wow really? That sucks,” my agent texted.

“They wanted some Hispanic guy named Brandon,” I replied. “They’re probably going to call and complain."

“Well they can eat my ass” my agent replied. “You should have walked in and said Hola, I have an el grande penis, lol.”

Although my agent was in high spirits and didn’t seem to mind that the party bailed, I was both embarrassed and pissed off. How can I get an overwhelming positive response from women at my other shows and then encounter something as pathetic as this?  What if all the other women at the party had been given the chance to see me and my performance? Would they have been truly disgusted? It is one thing to perform in front of an unappreciative crowd but getting turned away at the door definitely takes the cake and will always be the highlight of my worst experience in the field of male stripping.

Fortunately I only had a short 11 mile drive back home.  The lesson learned here is when you least expect it, a bad situation can arise unannounced. But in this industry and in life in general, you have to push forward while keeping your composure.

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