About seven or eight years ago, friend of a friend talked me into going to a gay strip club with a group of guys. There was about nine of us and at thirty-three I was easily the youngest guy in the group. I had never heard of this place before nor been to it so I’ll admit I was curious… I had been to gay bars and clubs many times, but a gay strip club? What was that like?
When we got there, I was surprised to see how big a venue it was… It was easily as big as any bar or club I had been to in the past—and it was very crowded; wall to wall with men. There was a stage, several bars, and elevated poles for male pole dancers and even an isolated stage with a “shower” so guys could dance/perform while taking a shower… wearing… you guessed it: a thong.
The performers came in all shapes and sizes. Many were bodybuilders (none I recognized), some were twinks, and some were just average. They gyrated on stage, pole danced, and made themselves available to their admirers for gropes, lap dances, etc. It was a strange spectacle yet oddly amusing. I can roll with any punch, but I was clearly out of my element. This conclusion was accentuated when I took a moment to look around the room and noticed the patrons. They were basically all older men (mostly over 50). Some were in their 40s but they all looked “old” to me. I guess when you’re in your early thirties everyone seems old, but I remember feeling like I was in an episode of the twilight zone.
“Is this my future?” I remember asking myself. “Am I gonna turn into one of these men… patronizing strip club in the years ahead?” Everyone in the room was drinking, laughing, and appeared to be having a good time, but I did not identify with the crowd at all. And I didn’t want to. I felt like I was in a bad movie—and I wanted out. Why weren’t these guys home with their partners watching a movie, hosting a dinner party, at a concert, theatre, or some other “respectable” venue? Was I being a snob?
It wasn’t long before some dancer saw me and started making a move toward me… dancing his way over to me he started gyrating up against me. My friends were hooping and hollering! I was mildly amused, but I was not into it. I remember thinking, he’s probably just doing this because I’m young youngest person in his field of vision. ("let's see, I can gyrate against that young guy or against that 58 year old guy).
I tolerated the evening, but I was glad when it was over. I never went back to that venue. So what’s the lesson in all this? I’m not sure there is one… but that night confirmed something I have long believed: we all make choices in life. And choices have consequences. I will choose to be hanging out in some place other than a strip club when I am in my late forties, fifties, and sixties.
