(A wee bit of background: One of my very best friends is a guy. A guy who happens to be a stellar shag. Since neither of us are in relationships, we’ve been entertaining each other as of late. This is what happened last night.)
We were out having beer and wings and the conversation lead to strippers. Yeah, I don’t know, these things happen. He says, “We should go. We should go to the skin joint.” Even though I’d never actually been to a strip joint, I’m not adverse to such things, so I said “Sure!”
We live in a small town, on an island. The town gets significantly larger come summertime, but it’s still not huge. It is apparently big enough, however, for two strip clubs. Also, there are 8 pages of escort services ads in the phone book. Not that I would know. Guess a town doesn’t have to be large to have plenty of debauchery.
Anyway, girls can’t get into strip clubs by themselves, but when they’re with a guy, they get in free! Such a deal. He let me pick the seating. I was curious as hell, so I picked a seat near the stage, but not the ones right at it. Little bit of distance is good, but I wanted to let him see the girls.
Let me tell you, it was funny as hell. I get why men like it, I’m no idiot. I’ve seen my share of porn, I have no objections to any of this. But I took a lot of dance classes growing up, and I couldn’t help but look at it through a dancer’s eye. My assessment is that I would be a much better stripper than any of these girls.
I understand that the reason they’re dancing is to turn men on and get cash money and not to perform a ballet. But not a single one of these bitches had an ounce of rhythm. Only one of them looked not bored.
The set-up is that each girl gets three songs to dance. They pick their own songs. Some of the songs they picked, you wouldn’t believe. Modest Mouse’s Float On, America’s Sister Golden Hair?? WTF? You can’t dance to that! There’s nothing sexy about 70s soft rock. And like your hair is actually golden, you liar.*
The not bored one picked dance songs, techno-like tunes. She was great because she was actually dancing. I made my friend give her money. One of them picked Fiona Apple’s Criminal, which, hey, I fully approve. You could really have fun with that one. You know, if you didn’t suck as hard as this girl. That is a great, sexy song. She really flubbed it up.
The best part was the setup of the stage. Big stage, two story pole (which, I will admit, led to some very impressive acrobatics, I’ll give them that.), one tiny 3-step staircase right in the front of the stage. When a guy wanted a bit of close up action, or wanted to stuff dollar bills in tiny strips of elastic, he’d go stand at the bottom of the stairs and the girl would come over to him and gyrate. Watching grown men stand at the bottom of the stair case, dollars in hand, eyes agape, waiting for the girl to come over was the funniest thing I’ve ever seen. They looked like overgrown children, waiting for the ice cream truck. Like they were thinking “If I stand here nice and quiet and behave myself, I get a reward!”
So in the end, I’m absolutely fascinated by this place. I have to admit, I did enjoy myself. I don’t care for boobies, but it was a bit of a turn on watching my guy watch the girls. Also a bit of a turn on to watch the girls, realize that I could do better, and plan in my head how I’ll prove it to my guy once we get home.
* I made this comment to my friend and he told me the best joke ever. What do a blonde and a Boeing 747 have in common? They both have black boxes. HAH.
