Men + Money = Power. Women + Money = 0

Vice here.

Unlike many of the tongue and cheek and, face it, tongue and cunt posts on Bent and Vice, this post is going to thrust deeply into the psyche of none other than Vice herself. As in me. I can't refer to myself in third person throughout the whole blog. Too affected, don't you think?

So here we are.

In my psyche. Muddled isn't it?

Granted this is just a depiction of my psyche. There would be more porno in it if it were really mine.

The best place to start is at the beginning, I suppose. We're in San Francisco for the weekend, Bent and I. I thought it would be an ideal time to see the sights aka go to Larry Flynt's Hustler's Club.

I have never had a lap dance before. Ever. Which is shocking for how much I love the female body grinding all over me. I told Bent what I wanted, he got the message loud and clear as I ground my naked pussy on his leg---I wanted to go.

We had a nice dinner and a bottle champagne--yes a whole bottle. Normally I don't drink that much. On some level I was nervous, and so was Bent. Strip Clubs had been one of the many undoings of his first marriage. Well, the lack of DISCLOSURE about strip clubs, to be more precise, I was nervous because it, meaning the experience, was going to put me face to face with one of my biggest dilemmas: my body image.

When we got to the club, they could smell the cash on us. We got VIP treatment right away. And a bottle of wine.

The music was loud, the dancers were lithe and real breasted and nubile and.... so young. So fucking young. Like I could have been a mother to every one minus one MILF-y looking dancer.

But I didn't let that get to me. I was there to enjoy, and not only enjoy--get some love via a lap dance.

Interesting dynamics aside, there were men of all ages there. One woman got up to dance and I threw down a bunch of bills--I liked her; she reminded me of a friend. She completely ignored my money. She completely ignored ME. I'm not used to being ignored. And she wasn't the last one to ignore me--only they got smart and saw where the money was coming from, so I'd get some face-in-tits play, but it was an act, all of it, just like it was an act for the men. I'm not used to being an act.

Bent was having a great time--in the world of male dominance, he won--he has a woman who digs women. But I was being thrust into a dynamic and paradigm that I'd never considered before. These women, at least from what I ascertained, were not bisexual, and if they were, they were not into me. AT all. This was tough for me to swallow. Although at a young age I found older women attractive, not all young women bi's do.

 But wait! I had something all the young college guys didn't--I had MONEY. Wads of it, ready to throw at their feet, stuff in their bra or panties....they crawled for the money. They liked the money. I realized then that if I were an older man, I would be getting lots of attention. But as an older woman, I had nothing to offer them. I couldn't even be a remote-fantasy meal ticket.

I was face to face with the fact that money from me meant exactly DICK. No pun.

They focused attention on me as a way to turn on their other voyeurs, but not-a one came by to offer their lap dance services. They went to the men, most of whom could only come up with $1-$5 dollar tips. I was throwing $20 down and it still didn't matter. I then realized something else that wrenched me out of my reverie: I didn't see them as mere bodies. I saw them as....people. I looked into their eyes and saw the pain.
NO, not the tired "she's being degraded" pain. No, I think those girls are at total peace with what they do for a living. I don't blame them. If I could, I'd do it too. No, I think the pain came from having peace, yet the outside world with it's puritanical judgments, weighs on them.

I wanted to give them all of my money to show them that I valued what they did. The shift came for me as I sat there and realized something more: I had no power. Money didn't give me power like it did Bent or any of the other guys there. No, my power had been what their power was now; youth, sex appeal, beauty.

And I no longer have youth, thus my level of sex appeal and beauty drops relatively. I know, I know, Vice, you say, you are a lovely woman. Well, I'm a good 9 years away from being called "handsome". It's true.

What the fuck was I doing, staring at these girls, these babies? I didn't want to touch them, it was obscene. I tried to pull the last money wad from Bent, as he had been feeding me wads all night (don't be gross), and he did something unexpected: he pulled the money away from me and didn't let me have it. He stripped (no pun) me of the last vestiges of my power, even though the money had only given me the illusion to begin with.

I remember asking him why. Why? Why? Why? Then it dawned on me. His power in giving me the money was also his power in keeping it from me. He held the wad of bills....the strippers would come to him, now.

And every fear, every dark thought from my muddled psyche came to the fore.

I am old. I am old. I am powerless.

Women can be as rich as God and if they're old or unattractive, they still have no power. Women can be as poor as a church mouse and if they're beautiful....power galore.

I took the bills and threw them on the floor toward the girls, and I ran.

I don't remember much after that. I learned that Bent was keeping the money from me because I was being a bit too generous--but on some level, I still believe that he wanted their attention. It wasn't enough that he was the Alpha Male with all the men in the room. He wanted to be wanted, too.

And that should be okay, but it isn't. And I should understand, but I don't. I'm conflicted, tired hung-over, and slightly sick with fear and the dull thud of realization that my power as a woman fades every day with each line and wrinkle.

I can't make up for it in money, I can't trick nature. I can only allow the games people play to be played by the right players. I need to find a different field all together.

Then I can own a different kind of power. The real kind.

Love, ~Vice