In the act of full disclosure, I admit to readily going to strip clubs when I was single in my 20’s. I went a lot, actually. I’m not proud of it, but that was something I did. Looking back, I can totally see why I went. It’s more than just watching a woman take her clothes off. When you go repeatedly, it’s because you’ve got other self-esteem issues that you’re trying to overcome…and those issues are either dealt with or hidden.
Luckily for me, I was able to put that life behind me and move on. I last went to a strip club on the night of my bachelor party…and I really didn’t have any intention of going to another one any time soon.
But after knowing that Sunshine was interested in going to one (she has never gone before and even put it on her list of “Date Bucket List” items for 2012), my own interest went up…a lot.
So here’s the deal: we went to the club, we sat there and critiqued, we laughed, we went home.
Seriously…that’s all that happened. Y’see, I don’t know what we were really expecting from the evening but what ended up happening was that the two of us just sat there and laughed and had a really good time…most of the time at the expense of those around us.
There were some interesting characters…
- The drunk patron who kept playing the drums and his “air harmonica” through every single song…and even when there wasn’t any music playing.
- The 40+ year old stripper (or at least the 20-something who had the face of a 40-something). She danced a lot, but the dancing was definitely a way to over-compensate for her lack of looks.
- The stripper who wore “that dress”, who while extremely attractive couldn’t dance or strip to save her own life.
- The two young women who entered the club on their own who looked like they were a week late for amateur night (seriously…”Amateur Night” was a week prior). They came in for awhile, had a couple of drinks, danced at their table, and then left when nobody paid much attention. And no…they wouldn’t have won any contest that I was judging.
- The food menu that included pizza, chicken wings, and a 12-oz steak. The thought was maybe we could sit directly next to the dance floor while eating chicken wings. I mean, that would be able as odd as you could imagine. And really…how good would a 12-oz steak be at a strip club?
- The butch, lesbian, 400+ pound DJ who got golf claps from us every single time a stripper was done and she had to come out and wipe down the two poles to make sure they were clean for the next stripper. No…she didn’t do that good of a job.
Each stripper came out and “danced” to three songs. The first one was supposed to be the tease. The second one was where they showed their breasts. The third song (after a brief break for a wardrobe change) was described by the DJ as “the best part of the show”. Sunshine and I laughed hysterically every time she said it because it just meant that everybody in the club would be seeing “the naughty bits”.
Trust me…on a couple of the strippers, it really WASN’T the best part of the show.
So in the end, we simply got up and went home. No big partying. No wild stories. No craziness in the “champagne room”. Just a couple who had a fun time at a place that we probably won’t ever go back to. I mean, it was fun and all…but the location didn’t really scream out “y’all come back now”.
If nothing else, we at least got to check off an item on our bucket list together.