Ghb?

So I started drinking at 8 last night with Coco, unfortunately, that isn’t uncommon. I spent the beginning of my shift chilling in the dressing room until I went out to stretch on the satellite stage. I ended up sitting at the bar with some randoms after and I kept glancing across the bar because I swear I recognized a girl from high school. I ended up brushing it off until I saw her in the bathroom and immediately said her name which I’m pretty sure freaked her out because we went to high school in Ohio and I didn’t even know she had moved to Florida.  She was with a man, the stripper in me knows not to ask a lot of questions; especially when I know the answer. All was well, what a coincidence.

The club started to pick up by the time they left so I was making my normal rounds, sitting with the men/ couples that seemed worth my time. I sat down with a man named Courtney, which would be the only thing I remembered about him except giving a few dances.  I don’t remember the actual dances, but I know he bought about 4 private dances. I don’t think the club is supposed to allow people to bring their drinks into the VIP rooms, but I do every time. I’m also very careful with my drinks, whether in my hand, sitting on the bar, or in VIP.  During those 4 songs, Im almost positive that Courtney slipped a little sum sum into my Jameson and Sprite.  I think I went to the bathroom after the dances then B lined it to the dressing room to smoke a cigarette. When I stood up it felt like I couldn’t walk and when I tried to speak, anything but nonsense took to long to get out.  It wasn’t a drunk (although I was not sober), it almost felt like the day after you eat acid and your brain doesn’t function still.

I knew I couldn’t drive, I couldn’t walk comfortably, and I definitely wasn’t getting on stage in my condition so I called my friend Mike to ask if I could stay at his place. He picked me up and made me ramen noodles (my favorite food) which helped tremendously.

Courtney called me like 4 times and left a voicemail. I don’t remember giving him my phone number and it’s not like me to give out my number at work.  My phone has some kind of caller i.d. so I knew it was him.  I texted the number something like “I was drugged” and his response was “Do you need a ride? Where are you? We’re at the beach, you should come”.  What a shady mother-fucker.  All of this was last night and I still feel some sort of post-acid / mental misfire. I know somebody got a drug into my drink for sure.

Ladies and gentlemen, please watch your drinks. It is so important to be careful especially in a club around a bunch of strangers. I’ve heard so many scary stories from other strippers just because for one moment, even in a room with only one other person, who your back is turned, some dirt bag can slip you something and take advantage of you.

If you’ve ever drugged somebody, fuck you, you piece of trash, rot.

~shiva