When I was young, I had a fascination with strippers. They possessed a combination of factors that made them irresistible to a certain type of male, and certainly attractive enough to me.
They were unbelievably fine, some of them. Some were not. Strewth, while strippers often embody the male fantasy of the ultimate female form, many of them simply have bodies, nothing spectacular; and since I love women in all their variety, those details never mattered to me beyond a point.
They were confident and independent, putting themselves out front for all to see and judge.
They were athletic, strong, and highly skilled.
They made good money, presumably. This quality is particularly attractive to the standard stripper's boyfriend, who is the drummer in a band that is currently between gigs. So I've read.
And best of all, they were sad and damaged little girls in need of a knightly man who could rescue them.
I learned all this by reading about them in a usenet newsgroup that was dedicated to strip clubs, back in those halcyon days before spam. Yes, there was such a day, when a sex-themed newsgroup had no spam. Unbelievable today. But in the mid 1990s, alt.sex.strip-clubs was all real people writing real stuff. And a lot of the stuff was surprisingly good. Indeed, my interest in the group was based on the quality of the writing, inspired by but not dependent on my fantasies surrounding the subject matter.
Wait. When I was young? The 1990s? Well, yeah. Young compared to now.
And I went a few times, on the sly, while traveling for biz. Those fantasies never came true, though. They had a raunch factor and really were intended to remain as fantasies, escapes from the sameness of my reality. They pretty much faded away about a decade ago.
Pretty much.
I never carried that kind of cash anyway.
Anyway, I went to a strip club tonight. I'm in Austin again, was at the office until about eight fifteen, surveyed restaurants near my hotel and discovered that for a ten dollar entry fee I could go have dinner in a place with naked women in it. Not only that, but Texas has not yet passed a law against combining nudity with alcohol. I saw no downside to the arrangement.
To be precise, no one was entirely nude. Leastways I don't think so. My observational faculties were too taxed to make certain of such a detail, nor did I give a shit. I sat at a tiny table in dim light, and my waitress was very nice and professional, and the "chicken alfredo" was edible, and all around were a variety of women with woman bodies who were all too young to really be interesting. Within about five minutes it occurred to me I'd much rather be looking at a woman in particular who was not present. So I texted her, and -- yes -- became the guy who sits in a strip club, texting.
Not that the view wasn't diverting. But once I was done eating, I collected my credit card from the bar and left. Whatever was going through my mind ten years ago, it just isn't there anymore.
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16 comments:
Oh. I never think of strip clubs in that way, as naked women serving chicken alfredo (LOL). I imagine a stage and women taking off feathery, glittery costumes to rock music. I've never seen this, or heard of it, but it's what I think!
Used to be a strip club for chix, featuring male dancers who were all kinds of studly godly hawt. Slip a buck into their thong and you'd get a mint flavored kiss with tongue and everything. This was before people worried about diseases 'n such.
My heart was broken when I later learned most, if not all of those guys were gay.
My youngest step-sister was an, er, exotic dancer for a time. She made more money than I did and I was a degreed engineer!
After she had her first child and was still nursing, the tips quadrupled. She put her then-husband through the rest of college earning his engineering degree.
She's in her mid-forties now and still has a hot, taut body but I don't think she dances any more. She's a registered nurse, though, so lots of men can still vicariously enjoy her.
Wow, a hawt ex-stripper nurse. How the hell'd some engineer snag that?
hawt ex-stripper nurse
I feel I've stepped into a David Lee Roth video.
You haven't lived until you've been to the O'Farrell Theater, the "Carnegie Hall of Public Sex in America."
I went once and it was a mind-blowing, weird experience. It's hard to describe, except that one can understand how talented hookers and strippers can make lonely, isolated guys feel as thought they are the guy she's been waiting for all this time. It's remarkable how it gets into your brain, even when you're not lonely and isolated.
I recommend "Strip City" by Lily Burana. She's a great writer and her book is about her "farewell" tour across the US when she decides to give up stripping. She is now an Army Wife, of all things.
I love huh.
That's funny. You grew up in the bay and never saw Carol Doda, or went to any of the Broadway dives in the city? I grew up in North Beach, so that stuff was always there, and seemed pretty much normal to me. Oh, and Mitchell Bros.! Right next door to The Great American Music Hall, and the early haunt of the one and only Marilyn Chambers. Seems like back then was the glory days era of stripping. Nowadays, it's more about addiction and the women are nowhere near as voluptuous. Oh, right. Only women that closely resemble skinny boys are attractive to the masses now.
I remember Carol's big sign over Broadway and Columbus, but no, I've never been to any of the places on Broadway, and especially didn't go back then. I was always pretty small-c conservative. Have you been to any clubs lately, though? I wouldn't characterize the contractors as all skinny. There're all types, though I suppose some clubs have more specific standards than others.
Now see, you went to Austin. I am reliably informed that Houston is less encumbered.
And I think "stripping" is a bit of a misnomer in a "gentleman's" club where you can check your imagination at the door.
P.S.
Why can't a man be eye candy to a woman if he happens to be gay in real life? Just pondering.
Gay guys can be eye candy but learning they were gay meant they could not be my lurve slaves and that broke my young heart.
Pity, that. Beautiful young gay women can fake it if they want. But men aren't equipped to fake it so much.
The best strippers I've ever seen were in Vancouver BC. They were gorgeous and, strangely enough, there were some of them that could seriously dance.
The worst strippers are in Portland Oregon, which has something like one strip bar for every 10 men. Okay, it's really that many, but the talent pool there is seriously depleted.
I haven't been to a strip club in something like ten years, though. I think I need older womens, possibly writhing in chicken alfredo, cause once you seen it all, you kinda need something new.
Chicken alfredo can be so ... sticky.
Chicken alfredo?! In a stripper bar? That would never happen here. Wisconsin's more your brats and pickled eggs sort of place. You know: anatomically resonant food. If you ordered alfredo they'd send you to the gay bar across the street. Or beat the shit out of you.
Well, you know. Austin is famous for its metrosexual gentlemen. And I guess in Wisconsin, the men are comfortable enough to eat pickles and sausages while watching women dance. I'd prefer a milkshake.
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