A girlfriend of mine decided to throw herself a sort of "I'm turning 23 ohmigod Bachelorette Party" thang this weekend in the city. We saw strippers. Real, live, strippers. Women, mind you, for those of you who remember our little foray into the world of dancing men. Nothing too surprising, though. Once you've seen the men dance, nothing can shock you. I was, however, surprised to find that yes, fake breasts do congregate in places other than downtown Los Angeles. I'm also happy to report that my girlfriend had a nice night. She's not the type of woman whose self esteem goes down while in proximity to skinny, mostly-naked other women. Plus, in our little group of sexually ambiguous women, she was the one with the foreign boyfriend (foreign boyfriends being the topic of an upcoming discussion!).
Do couples roll over in the morning, say, "Hey baby, what should we do today? Wanna go to a strip club?" Does that happen in real life? Seriously? Tres roman-tic!
The scene in "Closer" with Natalie Portman and Clive Owen comes to mind. Did you know Natalie took pole dancing lessons to make her part more believable? (She had me convinced, you know why? Because she's that good of an actress. The fringe had nothing to do with it.) So. I had a pretty good picture of what a strip club was like, having lived in Vegas for a short time, seen what men can do on stage, and being raised in our sex-crazy society with these kinds of images in the movies, media, and walking down the street.
Anyway, one of my male friends mentioned the un-erotic atmosphere of a strip club, how it's like a cattle call with announcers over the PA system, bullhorn style, calling out women's stripper names. The women flocking to the pole, center stage. If I was a sleazy guy, I think it would be kind of weird to get turned on in public in that kind of atmosphere. People are -watching- but hey, some people are exhibitionists like that. Another guy I know chimed in with, "They know they've got you! They nibble at your pants a little bit, and once you're nice and happy, they know that they've GOT YOU!" And your wallet suffers for it. Boy does it.
I still can't believe people get up (in the late afternoon and so on) to go to work as a stripper. Like it's a regular job to them, like my non-existent 9-to-5 desk job. See, I don't feel comfortable having stripping to fall back on, cute as my friends are in saying "hell yeah I'd pay to see you take it off," (thanks, guys!). No, this non-stripper's doing fine on her own, I gather. She's got 2 dates this week! Uncanny, eh.
No comments:
Post a Comment