Missing Like You

TWENTY

Sandy
Friday June 30, 2017

Dear Diary,

It's been a while. The last time I wrote in here it was the second week of January and I was being kicked out of the sorority. So much has happened since then. I need to fill you in.

It didn't take long for Arielle and me to find an apartment together. We moved into one of the off-campus student residences, which means it's extra cheap, only $400 a month including utilities. That means it's $200 each, which isn't hard to afford at all. It's a very tiny place and I wish we had something bigger, but we can't afford something bigger. I used the $200 that dad gave me from Christmas to pay for our first month's rent. I knew I shouldn't have lied about having a job, but we really needed something. But fear not, Dear Diary! I have finally found a job, at last.

Okay, before I tell you, please put your judgments aside. Quite frankly I don't have time for that right now. And what can I say – desperate times call for desperate measures.

I'm a stripper. I know how that sounds. It sounds degrading and dirty, like I'm some cheap hooker who wears smeared red lipstick and fishnet stockings. But it's not like that at all. There's a high-end (ish) strip club in town, the one that Jasmine works at. I begged her to let me speak to her boss. I figured if I could just explain my situation (and also maybe lie a little) and make myself look really pretty and alluring, that maybe she'd hire me. And sure enough, she did! Jasmine put in a good word for me. I think maybe she told her about my situation at the sorority. She might have also exaggerated a few things. But nonetheless, I was hired the following week and Jasmine gave me all the tips and tricks of the trade.

I don't have sex with random strangers, don't worry. I'm not a prostitute and I don't plan on selling my body for money. Stripping makes enough. Stripping makes more than enough. It makes a lot. I guess it's true what they say – men really do think with their dicks. The amount of men that come in here, both drunk and sober, all with one goal in mind: to watch females take their clothes off. You'd think they'd just go online and watch porn or something. But apparently the real deal is much more appealing to them.

I was kind of self-conscious when I first started. I didn't know the right ways to move my body, didn't know how to work myself on the pole. But now I'm basically an expert. I come onto the stage and I strut my stuff. I wear lacy Victoria Secret bras and lingerie and the men love it. I never take everything off. I always start off wearing some sort of clothing, then eventually take off the clothing and remain in the lingerie. My boss, Tilda, says that I don't have to go completely nude if I don't feel comfortable. That was really reassuring to me and I almost started crying when she said that. Most people would make me go completely nude. They wouldn't care about how I felt about it. All they care about is money. But Tilda is really nice and she cares about us girls. Anyways, I do my dance and my strip-tease, working myself on the pole. (It's also great cardio and leg-work.) The Horny Men throw lots of money at me and I crawl across the stage, stuffing into my bra and panties as I collect it all. Man, stripping is fun.

Arielle was two months pregnant when we first moved into our apartment. Now it's the end of June and she's almost nine months. Her stomach is so big I swear she's going to burst any minute.

At first Arielle said she didn't know who the father of her baby was, but I soon discovered that was a lie. She was dating this guy named Nick, but then they got into a huge fight and broke up. At one point they started seeing each other again, but one night, Nick got really drunk and he wanted to have sex but Arielle didn't want to. I don't want to use the word rape, but I think that's what it would be considered. It can still be rape even if they were dating. So that happened. And then she got pregnant. But she didn't want to tell Nick because she was scared of him. He knows now. Everyone knows. I think his parents are forcing him to pay child support and be a part of the kid's life. That's good. I hope he becomes a decent person and changes himself for the better for the sole sake of that child.

Seeing pregnant Arielle scares me. I was kind of apprehensive about the prospect of having children, but now I'm fucking terrified. In the beginning there was constant morning sickness, puking every single day. I watched as her stomach grew bigger and bigger, swelling up to the size of a giant beach ball. And then everything else swelled as well – her feet, her boobs, her hands, her legs. She complained all the time how uncomfortable she was. She couldn't do anything. I had to tie her shoes for her.

I let my mind wander, thinking about what it would be like if I had a baby. As scary as it is, it's also kind of enticing. I watch Arielle and see how happy she is with the baby inside of her. After the baby is born, it's going to be hectic as hell and super stressful. But that child is going to be the most important thing in her life. She's going to grow up and she and Arielle will be best friends. I envy that. I envy that bond she'll have with another human.

Now it's making me sad to think about it because my mom and I were best friends and now she's dead so I have no one. That would really suck if I had a baby and then I died. Or if I had a baby and the baby died. There is so much potential for disaster, so much potential for death and destruction. I've learned a lot in this short lifetime of mine, but one is that bad things happen to good people and there's nothing you can do to stop it.

I think I do kind of want a baby, just so I won't be lonely. I'd want it to be a girl, just like Arielle's. I'd want her to grow up and become my best friend and I'd teach her every single valuable lesson my mom ever taught me. I'd make sure she always had enough food on her plate, and that she had a good education and went to college. I'd make sure that she never had to fake things or lie to get what she needed to survive, and I'd make sure she never – ever – had to become a stripper.

Deciding to have a baby isn't that easy though. I mean, it takes two, right? I can't do it alone. (Or can I... artificial insemination!! Haha, but I wouldn't do that.) I think if the day ever comes where I meet my future husband and we are very much in love and the time is right, then I'll have a baby. I want to make sure she has enough love in this world from both her mommy and her daddy. I need to find someone who will love me just as much as he'll love her.

Barf. I sound like such a cliché. I wish I didn't even need a man in my life to complete me or make me happy, but unfortunately, I do. Most people do. They just deny it to their core until they have themselves so well convinced that they are happy on their own. But that's a lie. It's all a lie. I lie to myself every single day when I tell myself I'm fine and content on my own. The truth is, I want somebody. I need somebody. Someone to look at me, someone to hold hands with. Someone to hold me and tell me it's going to be okay when things get tough. I need someone to love me.

Sometimes when we're sitting in our tiny little apartment together, a single lamp on, both of us immersed in novels, Arielle will call me over to put my hands on her stomach. "I feel her kicking," she whispers to me. She knows it's a girl because she went to the doctors for a sonogram and they asked if she wanted to know the sex. She told me she wants to name the baby after me. I have no idea why. I didn't do anything special and my name is ugly. But Arielle is insistent, saying that she wants me to be the baby's Godmother as well as her namesake. What would that even entail? Which name would she call her? I have like, three.

I have a new name, by the way. Probably should have mentioned this earlier. It all came about in January, when I started stripping. I met with Tilda and she looked me over, head to toe. She said I was very pretty and that men would find me appealing. She asked for my name. I said, "Sandy."
"Sandy," she repeated it back to me, a strange look on her face. "What's that short for – Sandra?"
"Alexandra."
"Interesting." She thought this over. "You ever go by Alex?"
"Sometimes. Not really."
She thought about it again. "What about Lexie? Anyone ever call you Lexie?"
"No."
"I like it. Lexie. Sexy Lexie," she eyed me. "You like it? It's going to be your new name."
I only thought about it for a brief second before I realized that I loved it. Sandy was the Old Me. At this point, I was ready for a change, and this one seemed perfect. I had made a lot of mistakes in my past and had come alone way. I needed to shed my skin and become someone new.
"Lexie," I said it out loud, trying it out in my mouth. I looked at her and smiled. "Lexie it is."