This one is easy. Once Cinnamon or Destiny or whatever her name is asks if you'd like a dance, you look at her with the most uninterested glare you can muster and say that you're gay. You, plain and simple, play for the other team. The NY Yankees wouldn't ask a Dallas Cowboy to practice with them, would they?  

After that, you, free and clear of stripper pestering for the rest of the night, can admire her from afar as she's up on stage dancing to Motley Crue's Dr. Feelgood. Now granted, yes, it takes being secure in your sexuality to make such a claim. But it's 2012. Go for it.