Attraction for me, as with most women, is very cerebral. This is all wonderful and meaningful and yada yada, but in truth I've sometimes felt cheated that (most) men can become excited, at least thoroughly entertained, by simply gawking at a women’s bare body. The overwhelming strip club, porno and nudy mag industry are proof of this - not to mention that a dude will generally just say so. No shame, and why should there be? I wanted a little piece of this, so last month for the First time, I went to a male strip club. Here’s my story.
I sent out the FB invite as a rejection to Valentine’s Day entitled, “How to Avoid VD Ron Jeremy Style”. Get it? VD - valentine’s day/venereal disease, strip club…anyway. A small bunch of us gathered outside Remmington’s after dusk - prepared for a bit of stupid fun. Soon after claiming our creep seats and settling into the show, I found that I was actually, really enjoying the scene. The guys were hot and preformed some pretty outstanding tricks on the pole. It was still completely tongue and cheek of course, but the crowd wasn’t the pathetic chick n’ pom poms riot that I had expected, so all was good.
I made my selection. A very sexy young ginger covered in tattoos who dominated the pole like an acrobat. My friend set it up and before I knew it, I was being escorted up a black lit staircase to a private dance room. Hold on now - of course I was going to have a dance! It’s part of the experience! Nervous and unknowing though, I asked stripper X how it worked and what the boundaries were. I felt SO out of place. Would he touch me…with IT? What would we talk about (like talking was on the agenda! what an idiot.) I rambled on for a bit about completely dumbass stuff like the weather and my Sunday brunch plans until he finally shut me up with “everything is negotiable, let’s get started”.
I sat like a kid in a dunce cap on the small bench behind the musty curtain watching him pulse around as I tried to maintain my best “ooohh, I’m so turned on” face when in reality my only thoughts were "I’m such a cougar", "is being scared normalright now, and then suddenly, “Oh shit how long have we been in here?!”
Here’s where my lack of experience kicks me in the ass.
I politely thanked and complimented him (seriously Sarah?) as he dressed and we made our way to the pay counter. I’d been too nervous and forgot to ask the price prior to purchase so when I did and he responded - “7 songs” - I was confused. Ok…so…ya…what does that mean? Stripper X says “Well, it’s $20 per song”. GASP!!! Dance + tax + tip = $191.48 for (likely) the most unusually awkward experiences of my life. I can't even tell you one song that played....ahem, and I'm convinced they must have been 2 minute songs.
In the end, I no longer envy a man’s ability to enjoy primal, detached desires. Have fun with your peep shows and videos boys. This girl is happy to have strings attached - they’re free.
I sent out the FB invite as a rejection to Valentine’s Day entitled, “How to Avoid VD Ron Jeremy Style”. Get it? VD - valentine’s day/venereal disease, strip club…anyway. A small bunch of us gathered outside Remmington’s after dusk - prepared for a bit of stupid fun. Soon after claiming our creep seats and settling into the show, I found that I was actually, really enjoying the scene. The guys were hot and preformed some pretty outstanding tricks on the pole. It was still completely tongue and cheek of course, but the crowd wasn’t the pathetic chick n’ pom poms riot that I had expected, so all was good.
I made my selection. A very sexy young ginger covered in tattoos who dominated the pole like an acrobat. My friend set it up and before I knew it, I was being escorted up a black lit staircase to a private dance room. Hold on now - of course I was going to have a dance! It’s part of the experience! Nervous and unknowing though, I asked stripper X how it worked and what the boundaries were. I felt SO out of place. Would he touch me…with IT? What would we talk about (like talking was on the agenda! what an idiot.) I rambled on for a bit about completely dumbass stuff like the weather and my Sunday brunch plans until he finally shut me up with “everything is negotiable, let’s get started”.
I sat like a kid in a dunce cap on the small bench behind the musty curtain watching him pulse around as I tried to maintain my best “ooohh, I’m so turned on” face when in reality my only thoughts were "I’m such a cougar", "is being scared normalright now, and then suddenly, “Oh shit how long have we been in here?!”Here’s where my lack of experience kicks me in the ass.
I politely thanked and complimented him (seriously Sarah?) as he dressed and we made our way to the pay counter. I’d been too nervous and forgot to ask the price prior to purchase so when I did and he responded - “7 songs” - I was confused. Ok…so…ya…what does that mean? Stripper X says “Well, it’s $20 per song”. GASP!!! Dance + tax + tip = $191.48 for (likely) the most unusually awkward experiences of my life. I can't even tell you one song that played....ahem, and I'm convinced they must have been 2 minute songs.
In the end, I no longer envy a man’s ability to enjoy primal, detached desires. Have fun with your peep shows and videos boys. This girl is happy to have strings attached - they’re free.
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