Thanks, Tom–I’m glad you enjoyed it. The genesis of the idea came from seeing an ad for a Gentleman’s Club in the area. Calling them “Gentleman’s Clubs” seems so brazenly disingenuous that to my thinking it’s more vulgar even than the term “Titty Bar,” because at least the latter is honest about what it is.
The closest I’ve ever come to one of these clubs is when there were scenes at the Bada Bing! club in “The Sopranos”. Your future installments will probably be the second closest.
Well, I’m sure the Sopranos’ version (and hopefully my upcoming stories as well) will be much better than the real thing. They’re really kind of dreary places. I’ve heard about couples going together and spicing up their romance, but the times I’ve been there, it’s been all guys. Typically, it’s a dude sitting alone at a table, just watching the dancer, face slack and expressionless. Looking at these dudes makes me feel dirty, like I’m intruding on a moment that should be private (this despite the fact that the individual has made this private moment a public spectacle of sorts). It feels much more “wrong” and “voyeuristic” than watching naked women gyrate on the stage.
Not to be all “70s/90s Alan Alda/Rupert Everette Sensitive Dude,” but I’ve always been attracted to real women–brains, personality and character (physical and mental). I also like a big rack, but that’s not a deal-breaker. Anyway, the women in strip-clubs are shaved, toned (or emaciated) and siliconed that the only way to tell them apart from the neck down is by their tattoos.
Largely, I do too. I do know of a few exceptions to the rule–women who danced to pay their way through college, etc. If you avoid the lifestyle, I think you can make good money doing it. Most of these stories I’ve read or heard (reliably) second-hand. However, I knew one woman who danced her way through the University of Washington. She was a cutie, and a lovely person. But again, I think she was very much in the minority.
So …wait, are you saying these places aren’t filled with charming, sophisticated men wearing smoking jackets and women so gorgeous as to put Bond girls to shame?
It blew my mind as well. I would think that our best & brightest would enjoy tossing money the “After” girl from a meth PSA. When she shakes her ass, it looks like the Calvin tattoo on her right butt-cheek is waving at you!
Yeah, my husband said essentially the same thing about ‘em. He had a flurry of girlie-joint attendance after his divorce from his first wife, as his friends thought this might help cheer him up. He said the (air-finger-quotes) girls (end-air-finger-quotes) reminded him of sharks — just dead-eyed until they saw the money-chum.
Still, one of my favorites signs in L.A. is for that place by LAX: Live! Live! Nude! Nude! Nude! I always laugh that they’re more nude than live.
I know the place you mean. Although I’ve never been (nor plan to), that place has always held a quaint charm for me. The “Nude! Nude! Nude!” seems almost like gee-whiz enthusiasm. “Hey fellas! There’s naked ladies in there!”
I had a similar experience to your husband (it’s actually one of the upcoming stories), where after a breakup with my long-time gf, my buddies took me to a strip club. Friends–God bless ‘em, but as I’m sure Mr. Luddy has told you, a strip club is a TERRIBLE tonic for a broken heart. “I know you’re hurting right now, man–but I think I’ve got a great way to recreate that feeling of love and togetherness, that intimacy of sharing the most important details of your life with another person who really gets you. Let’s go pay an unfortunate to disrobe and then make love to a pole.”
I wonder which is healthier for the frequenters of such places—getting out of the house and heading to a place like this, or staying home with the internet?
That’s a really interesting question. I’d say that it’s probably healthier for those folks to actually go to the nudie bar, because at least they have to leave the house to do it. I have to imagine, though, that the individual in question may already have some pretty profound issues.
“Human ATM machines jiggling.” Classic. Except they don’t GIVE you money, they just take it. I’ve never actually been to a strip club/gentlemen’s club–or as I like to call them, tittie bars. But I’m disappointed that so many men say that the women are all pretty rough and busted looking. Mr. Weebles said the same thing. So where the hell are all the really hot strippers?
Not at the clubs I’ve been to, that’s for sure. A friend of mine married a lovely girl who had danced her way through college, but I never got to see her back in the day, unfortunately.
Some really great lines. Gentlemen’s Club in and of itself was enough. Looking forward to more..
Thanks, Tom–I’m glad you enjoyed it. The genesis of the idea came from seeing an ad for a Gentleman’s Club in the area. Calling them “Gentleman’s Clubs” seems so brazenly disingenuous that to my thinking it’s more vulgar even than the term “Titty Bar,” because at least the latter is honest about what it is.
Smak just earned in extra star in my little black book of cool dudes.
Aw, you’re sweet. I’m guessing it was the hat. So you’re a Dodger fan, too?
Um, yeah, that’s the reason.
2013′s gonna be our year. Think Blue!
The closest I’ve ever come to one of these clubs is when there were scenes at the Bada Bing! club in “The Sopranos”. Your future installments will probably be the second closest.
Well, I’m sure the Sopranos’ version (and hopefully my upcoming stories as well) will be much better than the real thing. They’re really kind of dreary places. I’ve heard about couples going together and spicing up their romance, but the times I’ve been there, it’s been all guys. Typically, it’s a dude sitting alone at a table, just watching the dancer, face slack and expressionless. Looking at these dudes makes me feel dirty, like I’m intruding on a moment that should be private (this despite the fact that the individual has made this private moment a public spectacle of sorts). It feels much more “wrong” and “voyeuristic” than watching naked women gyrate on the stage.
Not to be all “70s/90s Alan Alda/Rupert Everette Sensitive Dude,” but I’ve always been attracted to real women–brains, personality and character (physical and mental). I also like a big rack, but that’s not a deal-breaker. Anyway, the women in strip-clubs are shaved, toned (or emaciated) and siliconed that the only way to tell them apart from the neck down is by their tattoos.
I feel sad about these women. * not judging *
Largely, I do too. I do know of a few exceptions to the rule–women who danced to pay their way through college, etc. If you avoid the lifestyle, I think you can make good money doing it. Most of these stories I’ve read or heard (reliably) second-hand. However, I knew one woman who danced her way through the University of Washington. She was a cutie, and a lovely person. But again, I think she was very much in the minority.
So …wait, are you saying these places aren’t filled with charming, sophisticated men wearing smoking jackets and women so gorgeous as to put Bond girls to shame?
It blew my mind as well. I would think that our best & brightest would enjoy tossing money the “After” girl from a meth PSA. When she shakes her ass, it looks like the Calvin tattoo on her right butt-cheek is waving at you!
Yeah, my husband said essentially the same thing about ‘em. He had a flurry of girlie-joint attendance after his divorce from his first wife, as his friends thought this might help cheer him up. He said the (air-finger-quotes) girls (end-air-finger-quotes) reminded him of sharks — just dead-eyed until they saw the money-chum.
Still, one of my favorites signs in L.A. is for that place by LAX: Live! Live! Nude! Nude! Nude! I always laugh that they’re more nude than live.
I know the place you mean. Although I’ve never been (nor plan to), that place has always held a quaint charm for me. The “Nude! Nude! Nude!” seems almost like gee-whiz enthusiasm. “Hey fellas! There’s naked ladies in there!”
I had a similar experience to your husband (it’s actually one of the upcoming stories), where after a breakup with my long-time gf, my buddies took me to a strip club. Friends–God bless ‘em, but as I’m sure Mr. Luddy has told you, a strip club is a TERRIBLE tonic for a broken heart. “I know you’re hurting right now, man–but I think I’ve got a great way to recreate that feeling of love and togetherness, that intimacy of sharing the most important details of your life with another person who really gets you. Let’s go pay an unfortunate to disrobe and then make love to a pole.”
I wonder which is healthier for the frequenters of such places—getting out of the house and heading to a place like this, or staying home with the internet?
That’s a really interesting question. I’d say that it’s probably healthier for those folks to actually go to the nudie bar, because at least they have to leave the house to do it. I have to imagine, though, that the individual in question may already have some pretty profound issues.
“Human ATM machines jiggling.” Classic. Except they don’t GIVE you money, they just take it. I’ve never actually been to a strip club/gentlemen’s club–or as I like to call them, tittie bars. But I’m disappointed that so many men say that the women are all pretty rough and busted looking. Mr. Weebles said the same thing. So where the hell are all the really hot strippers?
Not at the clubs I’ve been to, that’s for sure. A friend of mine married a lovely girl who had danced her way through college, but I never got to see her back in the day, unfortunately.
Man Weebles is clearly a dude after my own heart.
Debilled and Unfulfilled….line of the day!
Sadly, none of my good strip club stories involve attractive women…