RingNation is off in Las Vegas for a bachelor party, most likely making it rain on some poor stripper…or getting sunburned by the pool, by himself. Either way, his impending departure got us thinking about the whole stripper-customer relationship, and we asked him to ponder it before getting on the plane so we could celebrate along with him and his buddies with a new “He Said/She Said.”
I have often heard women say something along the lines of “I don’t get strip clubs, why would anyone want to go a place like that?” Allow me to explain: It’s a place where you can gawk at very hot women (on a good night), wearing either nothing or next to nothing and you can drink. Does that answer the question? Glad we got that settled.
While the dancer/client relationship is a bit unorthodox, it’s generally a very comfortable one. It’s the dancer’s job to ensure that customers are at ease by smiling, making small talk and just being friendly. Most service professions are littered with service people who obviously hate their job and aren’t all too kind to customers. Dancers are generally way happier. I’m sure it has to do with the fact that their tips depend on it, but so what?
That relationship can almost be therapeutic. Dancers will say that guys feel they can open up to them, tell them what they’re really thinking; something customers (for some reason) can’t do with their wives or girlfriends. My theory is that it can be easier to open up to a stranger because they don’t know you and have no preconceived notions about you. So they can talk to you with an open mind and give a more unbiased opinion. It just so happens that the strangers in this circumstance are wearing a g-string and have big, fake boobs.
Throw some alcohol in the mix and everyone’s having a party! It’s their duty to be social and generally they succeed. When it comes to the business aspect of the deal, they generally tend to deal with things quickly to get back into that fake-relationship they had been working on. That’s not a bad thing, though. They know why you’re there, you know they’re there to get money. No one is blindsided.
Although this is a CT based publication, my suggestion for anyone looking to visit an establishment such as this would be to head to Mardi Gras in Springfield. Hopefully when you go, the “varsity squad” is working. Bring singles, have fun, take a load off and enjoy pretending like the dancers care!
Here’s the problem for me: I know that most girls don’t end up strippers because they had a whole lot of other options, and I would never be able to stop thinking about that as some broad shook her ta-tas in my face. Having dealt with my fair share of guys, and their obsession with boobs, I know how easily distracted they are, so it’s no surprise that they are able to ignore the plight of the strippers shaking their thangs once they’re in there. What I don’t get is how they can bring themselves to go inside the joint in the first place.
Twice in my life I’ve found myself in the presence of male strippers. Once, it was by accident. I was out with a bunch of guy friends, and we went to play pool. Little did we know the bar in the place was having stripper night. The bouncer at the door tried to charge me $10 to get in the door while letting my guys get in for free. You can imagine how that went over… Needless to say, I didn’t pay shit. Though I never went into the bar you could see the gross old ladies and the orange guys in banana hammocks grinding on them. There was nothing remotely attractive about this.
The next time I was more prepared. We got a stripper for my best-friend’s bachelorette party. He came dressed as a “nerd” and proceeded to toss us all around like rag-dolls and then hump us. It was hilarious, and left us all very sore. He told us all about his other ventures, which included flying helicopters, and owning the whole “stripper business.” There was nothing “vulnerable” about this guy, and according to his card — which I still have on my fridge — he was hotter than the orange guys at the bar. But the whole experience was humorous. There was nothing all that sexy about it.
So, for me, going to the strip club seems like it should be a guilt-inducing, uncomfortable endeavor for which you pay a lot of money. Why would you want to do this? I still don’t get it.