awesome thread full of excellent advice ...
My suggestion is basically, learn to enjoy the women whom you meet for more than what you pay them for. I know, it SOUNDS rather new-age-sensitive-guy, in that it starts to be advice that moves toward getting to know the girls' and their "real" selves. But if you can cut through a little bit, find out about their kids (what school, does well at what? badminton? geometry?), learn what's really hard in their lives (lost her car, can't get to work; DJ wants blowjobs but he has a stinky dick because he never bathes; whatever), you'll find (if you're anything like me) that the cuddly touchy feely is really a lot (a) CHEAPER, and (b) just as much fun. More time up close and personal, less money. take them as flawed humans, rather than as highly skilled lap-dance providers and/or biological support units for a vagina into which you wish to stick your organ. Although they are the latter two things (lap-dancers, and bio-units for vagg's) the former one thing (flawed human) is what will help you spend less money for the same enjoyment.
I didn't mean to sound preachy. I really think of this strategy as totally within my self-interests, and totally cagey, conniving, mercenary. I don't give a SHIT whether or not some half-drug-addled middle-aged chick who has been in and out of rehab has just lost her car again for the seventh time, I'm simply not likely to end up sympathizing with how hard her life is, by the end of the night! For example, I have met guys who lost legs and hands in Afghanistan and women who were removed from the sex-slave-trafficking ring of Boku Haram, OK? it's not that bad to have to take the fucking bus for a few months while living in East Lansing MI or St. Petersburg FL! But ACTING like I want to get to know her and sympathize with her is actually something GOOD FOR ME and also makes the night cheaper, more enjoyable. Really. Believe it or not. It makes me extend myself toward other people. I'm no longer in my bubble.
Trump or Clinton or Sanders or (uh ...) Cruz, we're all in a bubble. So are strippers. Go enter theirs for a while. It doesn't hurt, and it is so cheap. And horny. Gets me OFF man, to feel ... uh, the term would be, "PL-to-stripper fake connected" maybe? Puppy luv? Whatever, it ain't real love, and it fades about as quick as the smell of smoke on your clothes and can be washed out instantly with some decent laundry detergent.