So Merbear over at Knocked Over By a Feather has been doing a series of posts called Taboo Topics. Her latest entry, #14, is about strip clubs. At the end of her post she asks for her readers’ thoughts and I was happy to oblige. Then, about 4 paragraphs in to my response I realized that this was its own post and that I’ll just publish the response here and link back to her article. So that is what I’m doing. And that is what you’re reading. Are we clear? No, we’re opaque, but that’s not relevant to anything going on here so let’s just move on.
I’ve been to a strip club once in my life and it was only after almost an entire bottle of Southern Comfort had been consumed. By me. At 2 in the morning, the guys I was drinking with decided they were going to the strip club. I didn’t want to be drunk alone all by myself, so I decided to tag along.
The particular club I went to was (and presumably still is) fairly large. I don’t know if that’s normal or not as I have no point of comparison. There was a stage where there was a woman dancing. On a pole. Then there were multiple ladies, completely nude except for panties, roaming the tables serving drinks and offering, um, other services. For my part, I enjoyed the view, but I spent no money there. Well, I might have gotten another drink, but that was it. The ladies would come up and attempt to talk to me, but as soon as I told them I had no cash for them they went on their merry way. To the guy next to me.
One of the guys I was with had two or three of the ladies hanging all over him as he was all decked out in a colorful ensemble of dress pants, button-up shirt, and tie. It was overkill for a strip club at 2AM, at least in my uneducated opinion, but it drew the ladies to him. He also looked like Freddie Prinze, and that’s how I referred to him because I couldn’t remember his name. I still can’t remember his name, so I’ll keep referring to him thusly.
Even in my debilitating state of inebriation I didn’t really enjoy the experience. I just sat there as nude woman after nude woman walked by. Hardly anyone was paying attention to the woman dancing on stage, and the pack of money-hungry dancers suffocating Freddie Prinze was, well, disturbing. Some of them talked to me and the other guy with us, as we were sitting at the same table, but they mostly paid attention to him. And I was okay with that. I’m certainly not going to spend money just for the privilege of having a sexy woman talk to me.
I don’t much see the point in going to places such as these and giving a woman money for really nothing in return. Sure, you can get a lap dance or something for, well, a lot of money, but it’s still not the real thing. You can’t touch her. You have to keep your clothes on. Well, if you keep everything legal, you do. And I’ve never been so starved for attention that I’ve been reduced to forking over money to a scantily clad female just so she’d talk to me.
I doubt I’ll ever go to one again. It was not a pleasant experience. Freddie Prinze ended up spending over $300 in a private room that night. When he got out of there he was more pissed that he spent that much than he was happy that whatever happened back there happened. And evidently, the private rooms are much like Vegas. Whatever happened there stayed there. That, or he was too embarrassed to share.
I have a friend that is a stripper, though. She has been stripping for years. She has no problem taking money from guys for her to shake her ass and show her boobs. Or even just to give them the attention they so desperately crave. According to her, a lot of the guys in strip clubs just want someone to listen to them. She makes a good living doing it. It’s hard to fault her for it. She can work two to three days a week and make as much money as I do working five. Plus, the guys by her drinks and she’s not obligated to let them touch her. If they do a big burly bouncer tosses their asses out, and unfortunately, it’s come to that point once or twice for her.
Strippers, or at least the one I know, get to dance for a few hours, drink on the job, and have guys toss cash at them all for paying them faux attention and walking around without a shirt. They get even more to go into a private room and sit on a dude’s lap and gyrate for a couple of minutes. If that doesn’t bother you and you feel justified doing it for the gobs of money you can get doing it, then go for it. I see no problem with taking advantage of people who feel so pathetic that they need to pay for attention.
I guess, unlike Merbear, I don’t really have a problem with strip clubs. They aren’t for me, but if going a strip club to have some weird fantasy realized prevents one attention-craving lunatic from raping (or worse) a woman, then what does it hurt? If given a choice between the two I’d surely pick strip clubs, or even prostitution, over rape.