All The Fuss About Strippers, Part 2

I was thinking about the whole strip club thing. (again.) Remember the first fuss about strippers? {Click here to Remember It}. I'm following up. I've piecemealed this together over time, so forgive me if it makes no sense. Also forgive me for how obnoxious it is. Because it is.

I talked with a guy a while back about the whole topic, and he was saying his girlfriend would be pissed if he went to a strip club, and he was jealous I "let" Rbf go. He posed this as a regrettable fact. Instead of saying "Um, do you think I'm someone else?" I figured he just misunderstood my stance on the whole thing. When I went to the strippa show with my Rbf and our housemate, I wasn't mad at him for going, because I was THERE. It would have bothered me if he went without me - mostly if he did it without telling me like it was a big sneaky exciting secret, rather than an above-board "guys' night out" for some poor sucker's bachelor party. Why, I can't explain. I realize there is very little logic or reason in that.

I told my friend, "You know, it doesn't exactly feel GOOD to know that your man would literally pay another woman to make him imagine sex with her...rather than have actual sex, for free, with you." He conceded that I had a point.

I wished, REALLY WISHED, that there were an equivalent female industry, ritual, tradition, ANYTHING that I could cite to mirror the insult in it. You know, give him a little perspective. Keep in mind that I'm not saying that it's bad to patronize a strip joint. I'm saying it's bad to act like your woman's being a baby if she's not down with it. There is nothing wrong with you going, but if you're in a committed relationship, there is nothing wrong with her hating it.

Note to men: Trying to explain that the cost of an adult entertainer is worth it because the chick "works for it" will dock you further points. Because the truth is that your wife/girlfriend/willing partner probably works just as hard at actual sex with you, as that stripper is working at your imaginary sex with her. Sorry. I'm just saying. That $80 minimum in booze and strip-tips could go in her direction, not Bambi's, and get you a lot more for your money.

I was really pissed to realize that, really, there truly is no equivalent we can throw in men's faces in a "how would you like it" kind of moment. Are men threatened/insulted if we go to Thunder Down Under? No. Because they know that is not where women go to get turned on. That's where gay dudes go to get turned on, and women go to get drunk and laugh their guts out at everyone else.

It's sad because really, lots of strippers have the reverse problem. An old flame of mine actually dated a stripper after we broke up. She was super hot. Like, 5'10", eating disorder skinny +10 pounds, olive tan and a set of big, round fakies. The obvious kind. To be fair, she quit the nekkiddance before he met her. But she was constantly dealing with her own jealousy over me. She would cry to him and say "You're still into her! I know you wish I were smarter like her!!!" Then he'd tell me all about it. Dickish, huh? And awkward. And so, so sad. Because guess what? Smart girls can take their clothes off and grind on you too. And that's what got under her skin.

But that's not the point. This is not a War On Strippers. The war is on the ABSENCE of an equivalent in the woman's world.

Recently some girlfriends and I were asked what our favorite thing "to do on a date" was. After establishing that I do not date, I answered to be a good sport, "Motorcycle rides with hot man, and making sushi at home."

When I tried thinking up a woman's equivalent to the man's strip club night...I decided that's what it would be. The perfect date, with a paid studmuffin who has to be into you cuz it's his job. It is alarming and slightly pitiful how quickly I typed out the process below. My apologies to your kids, laundry, boss and mostly your husband. I present to you, the business model for a woman's strip joint. And even though it doesn't exist, I think we should close our eyes, get a cookie, and pretend in our minds for just a minute that it does.

***

So...it starts. SUPER hot guys, I am talking so hot they're probably gay, put you on the back of a super loud street bike (or bullet bike if you're into the dooshy type, because just like at strip clubs, there's something for everyone).

Super Hot Ungay Guy would drive you around the city at sunset. He'd steer with one hand, and rest the other one beside him, on your thigh, like Rbf used to do to me. He'd make you hold on REALLY tight and then go really fast. If you live where there are open, unwooded areas, men on *dirtbikes have the same effect, but even better. Probably because it's a little more raw and dirty, and you're really not supposed to be on the back of those. No matter which style of motorcycle it is, you're riding on an aftermarket upgrade platinum package. More expensive than your dude could ever justify. And if you are into it, you can request a bike so turbocharged that it has a constant vibration. (Sorry, but I had to find something equal to a guys' face smashed between giant boobs, which gives them what an adorable friendboy calls "rad boners." Somehow, I found this phrase endearing. He also introduced me to the term "friendboy," which might be why. He was talking about his friendgirl, and that's probably their inside joke so sorry I totally stole it and plastered it on the internet, but it's cute. And I told him I'd shoutout to him on the blog, so here you are my dear J - a dozen-hundred girls reading this will now think you're cute).

Hot Guy (who is so totally sincerely into you, as if he were getting paid to be) will finish out the victory lap and roll into Stud Ranch. After handing you a cold {Diet Dr. Pepper/insert your drink here} from the minifridge in the garage so you can watch him do a very BRIEF series of manly things you don't understand, it's time to go inside.

Note: You do not need to pretend to know stuff about their bikes, or about tanks, or even sports today. You definitely don't need to go "I'm not riding on the back of anyone's bike...I want MY OWN." If you are one of those girls prone to pull this shit, take a load off. Because he already thinks you're amazing. He told you a bunch of times on the bike ride, remember? He will remind you repeatedly during the next part.

Once inside, it's less "showtime" and more "one on one." He feeds you some sort of dessert and then gives you some sort of lower back massage. He'll probably sniff your neck, but that's for him to decide. Remember, they all have their own little signature.

The alternative to this is that he would go outside to your car and act concerned that you might need your brakes replaced. He pretends to want to fix them right there, which you have to decline because that's the rule. He will repeatedly remind you that he knows you can do this yourself. He kicks your tires, checks your oil, and fills your windshield wiper fluid, which you will watch. You go home when you feel like it.

Sound stupid? Stop for a sec and think about what happens at a strip joint. Girls put on really tall ugly spice girl shoes/boots, as if they need footwear when they're wearing underwear and stickers on their boobies, walk up to a pole and swing around on it. They hump the air and brush their hair with their fingers which only tangles it more. Duh. Then they hover over your lap and whisper to you that they're "so shy." Or they call you daddy. I'm sorry, all bets are off here, people.

I need to express that this can't be more work than a pole dance or lap dance, otherwise it won't be an equivalent. It will allow men to cast strip clubs as superior to Stud Ranches because their business model is more efficient. So it will go like this:

1. Bike ride. (Lasts about as long as 3 good stripper songs)
2. Manly Garage Moment (Lasts about as long as that part when the bouncers take the sexpots off stage and to the dressing room, then escort the next women in)
3. Shower you accidentally see. From your overstuffed armchair right in front of the shower. (Lasts as long as one more good pole dance song). There are multiple Studs in the shower. Multiple women ogle them with you.
4. Dessert and lower back massage (this is our lapdance).
OR
That caring car thing.

When your guy friends and male acquaintances get indignant, or passive-aggressively try to undermine the Studs by calling them gay or too pathetic to get a real job, you defend the Studs like men defend strippers. It might go like this, and it will probably be true:

- Yes, he really is hotter than you.
- Mostly because he's significantly buffer than you.
- Needless to say, he can grow more facial hair than you.
- And somehow, less back/butt hair than you.
- I know this because I looked at it as he and his biker friends showered, in slow motion of course, after the bike ride (which got us both very sweaty).
- Because there's a little lounge area where all the women can sit and have a drink and "wait" for the Studs(which means "watch them," but we're not so obtuse as to make that look like the main point of the lounge area).
- He has dirt under his fingernails, from working on his bike. He can fix anything, by the way.
- He exfoliates in the shower with pumice and uses industrial solvents to wash up. These industrial solvents smell like an artesian waterfall in the middle of a Nordstrom.
- Sigh. He's so dreamy. He's one of those guys that can be mean to you and you come back for more. You know those guys? Oh that's right, you HATE those guys.
- I slip a dollar in his chaps every time he guns it on the bike, so that I have to hold on tighter to his abs, and smoosh my chest against him. He does this about 40 times.

- He probably makes way more money than you do but only works about a fourth as often as you. And yes, I even contributed to that, rather than spending it on expensive beauty shit that I'd normally do for a guy.
- No, he is NOT stupid. He scored a 32 on his ACT and is just doing this to put himself through Medical School. (That cliche is my absolute favorite, other than the one about strippers being STD-free and/or never having touched drugs).

I do realize there are girls who say they're not into bike rides. Fair enough; because there are men who are not into strippers. I also realize that many of us have snowy winters. Bike Rides = no bueno. My theory isn't perfect. But these guys would be. So if you know any guys interested in this kind of thing, call me and we can be their pimps.

That's all. You may go.

*Dirtbike videos, by the way, are girl porn. Of course the minute their helmets come off and they start talking, is kind of like the minute the makeup comes off a stripper and she starts telling you about her childhood. It ruins the whole thing.