Sometimes I think being a stripper would be cool.

Think about it, you can make your own hours, you meet someone new everyday, and you get paid to do pole yoga.

There’s always a buff dude to take a guy away if you don’t like him, which is more than I can say for the dates I’ve been on. I could’ve used a bouncer for the guy I went on a date with that tried to shove his tongue down the inside of my neck after I complimented the stripes on his inside-out polo shirt.

Although, the biggest benefit would be to always have singles to put on my laundry charge card for the pay-to-operate washer and dryer at my apartment. I’m always running out of singles for that thing, and rubbing my tits onto a fifty year old man seems like the most ethical way to go about it.