Apparently goldmine is the word men at the strip club use on me by default. Maybe they do it to everyone, I have no idea.
The thing about goldmines is this:
They are elusive, and some men search for them their whole lives. After they find the goldmine, they guard it with insane jealousy, strip it of every rare and valuable resource and, when it is barren of its treasure, they abandon it.
I'm not a goldmine.
I'm a girl.
And I want a boyfriend, not a strip miner.
About Me
- Robin Holly
- I'm a purity ring-wearing Christian writer for a feminist magazine also currently exploring the freedom and stigma of taboo professions part-time. So far I've been: 1.) A fine art model in Chicago 2.) A (clothed) bit part porn actress in Los Angeles 3.) A professional dominatrix in Manhattan 4.) A topless dancer in Queens and Manhattan, using the microcosm of the strip club as a venue for adventures in subjective reality. I also bruise easily and have a mild form of narcolepsy.