If I sound a little sleepy through the internet today, it’s because I was out kind of late last night celebrating Valentine’s Day at the clurrrrrrb. And not just any clurrrrrrb. A strip clurrrrrrb.
This was not some sort of strange sex game I was playing with my boyfriend. He didn’t even really want to go (lame!). It was more a mission of togetherness with my friends. And not in the hipster asshole “ha ha, wouldn’t it be ironic to go to strip club on Valentine’s Day?” type of way. Sure, we were not dead serious about it, but we also sincerely appreciate exotic dancers, and we’d been meaning to check out our local club for quite some time. As my friend Dana said, “It’s VDay. If you’re not putting your V on someone, someone should be putting their V on you.”
So we went on a big, group date there, as is our wont: singles, couples, “it’s complicateds,” everyone. And no, we did not waste the strippers’ time by acting obnoxious and then stiffing them on tips. They were well compensated for our obnoxiousness.
When we got there, the first thing I noticed was that it was not nearly as depressing as its Yelp reviews had led me to believe. Sure, there were some lonely-looking men doing coke off the bar, but most people looked like us: upstanding members of society who happen to enjoy watching booties clap.
Dana decided it would be fun for all the girls to get a group lap dance together, because some of us (not me, obvi) had never gotten one before and were feeling shy. She selected a slender girl with cute bangs and small, perky boobs because she looked like “a white trash Joanna Newsom” (Dana grew up in a poor town in the south so she is allowed to say this) and let said girl pick the other dancer, a curvier lady with long, flowing, red, mermaid hair.
We assembled in the lap dance room and the strippers took turns grinding all up on us. One of them rubbed her pubic bone on me pretty hard! It was fun to put my face in their boobs, because boobs are awesome, and I was pretty impressed with their sexy dancing skills. Unfortunately, my friend was sitting on my flowy Goth cardigan and couldn’t get off of it because she was being given a lapdance, and I was too worried about it ripping to fully enjoy my first go-round with Joanna Newsom. But once I fixed that, it was pretty cool. My party arm may or may not have been raised. How do strippers always smell like cotton candy???
Dana asked if she could do coke off one of the stripper’s asses, because that seems like the kind of thing you do at a strip club on Valentine’s Day, but she said it cost extra so Dana aborted the mission. The strippers did not want any coke, but they didn’t seem mad at my friends for having it there. (My friends offer drugs to everyone they do drugs in front of, because they are polite; they weren’t stereotyping strippers in particular.) Dana did get her stripper drug experience later, though, when a comely woman shotgunned her some weed on her smoke break. She also told her she looked awesome. This was a running theme throughout the night, with us saying “you look good!” and the strippers replying, “no, you look good.” They were probably just being nice because that’s part of their job, but the compliments still made us happy. Strippers are the best! I can totally see why some people can’t get enough of them.
While we were sitting at the bar, girls would come up to us periodically after pole dancing and sort of present their boobs, between which, I learned, we were supposed to insert dollars. I giggled like a child each time I did it, because touching strangers’ boobs is not something you are normally supposed to do. Naturally, my favorite dancer was a large breasted Goth chick covered in tattoos. I asked her if she was having a good night moneywise, and she said that she was.
Things got stupider as the night wore on. One of my friends saw a drug dealer she’d been dating who’d disappeared for the past several days and was like, “hey, what gives?” Another of my friends realized she knew the guy doing coke by himself at the bar. He came over and told her he followed her on social media, and now they are going on a date. Another friend ended up meeting two random dudes on the street and making them have breakfast with her at a diner, only to realize they sucked halfway through, finish all the bacon, and bail. I had to poop in the bathroom there and felt kind of embarrassed, because that does not seem like an appropriate thing to do in a magical sparkle place that smells like cotton candy.
All in all, however, I’d say it was a positive Valentine’s Day experience. My single friends didn’t feel left out, and we got “felt up, smoked out, and told I was the cutest thing ever” (Dana’s words). The only people who bugged me were the select few drunk assholes who did rude things like trying to make the strippers bring them drinks (not their job!) and putting money in the pants of people who were clearly not working there. But that was hardly the club’s fault. Hooray for strippers! We like you guys a lot.
Photo: Jamie Peck