A short, skinny, old LIE. How do I know this? I attended a bachelorette party recently which started with VIP tickets to a male strip review in Boston. That’s right. VIP, meaning on the actual stage. Now, picture the sexiest thing you can imagine. I can guarantee you it’s not “New England Touring Male Revue.”
I’m sorry. I just wanted to make sure you understood what we’re working with.
Because I’m a f*cking lady (and had some wine while getting ready), I wore pants, long sleeves, and a fascinator to the club. Because I’m a lush for some good music, I got down on the street.
Let me break this down for you the only way I know how: childish drawings that allow me to depict fairly pornographic things.
First of all, there was a lot of stuffage happening in some really bizarre thongs. A lot. I guess I understand stuffing, but why is dick fringe necessary? Yep, fringe. Like so:
Has any woman ever said, “You know what would make penises really awesome? ACCESSORIES.” Alright fine, some woman has probably said that. You’re wrong, lady. It was just weird. Moving on.
Another thing I didn’t realize was a thing: getting all up in the spectators’ business. I was expecting some level of audience participation, but I didn’t realize that by entering a male strip club you are basically signing away all rights to personal space and/or limits. These guys were motorboating up a storm and groping everyone. Speaking of audience participation, here’s my best guess at what happened to me on stage:
Step 1: The stripper tells you to lie down on your back on the dirty floor, with your legs in the air.
Step 2: You think about the decisions you’ve made that have led you to this moment. Realize you’re not drunk enough.
Step 3: It’s all happening. While you were reflecting on your choices, the stripper has grabbed you and flipped you somehow (you were definitely airborne for a second, right?), and you’re now bent over facing the audience. It’s unclear what Stripper is doing, but it’s definitely romantic, based on the audience’s reaction.
Step 4: High five yourself for expert bobby pin application, because your fascinator remained in place throughout all of this.
Another thing that happened to me was this:
Let’s be clear that I am the seated one in this situation. Yes, I got face-humped into a wall, and seriously thought I had a concussion. I get paranoid about head injuries anyway, so this was pretty perfect. I have a photo of it, but I really don’t think anyone wants to see that. I’m saving it for my scrapbook with some glitter stickers and sh*t. You understand. Milestones.
Another thing they like to do is stack brides-to-be on top of each other. Like so:
Consider those dots my caption: “…”
Main takeaways from this experience:
1. Male strip clubs are FUNNY. Like, 90% laughing, 10% “Is this one hot? Oh, nope. Nope.”
2. Strippers are delightfully dumb. One of them was making change for me from $5, and had to start over at three singles.
3. Apparently, ladies go apesh*t for any man in uniform. I guess I should have known this already, but still: an entire act consisted of a guy in a navy uniform (3 sizes too big) walking around and saluting while Enrique Iglesias’ “Hero” played. I swear to Channing Tatum this is true.
Considering these points, I really think they should add a whole “porn for women” section with vacuuming and foot rubs. Now THAT would get them some tips.
Lisa on Yelp says (because that’s a thing you do, is review male strippers on Yelp), “These dancers just launched another show called ‘Tempted’ at the Double Tree in Westboro. I think the shows are every month.”
See you at the Double Tree every first Saturday of the month, ladies! Get your fascinators ready.
Have you been to a male strip club? Any strip club? Please, please share:
