So You Wanna Date a Stripper?
You think it’ll be cool, don’t you? I mean, they must be amazing in bed, and they are always hot. Not to mention the feeling you get watching countless men ogle the woman you are going to go home and fuck until the sun comes up. You are the man. You are the king. That’s your girl up there! The illegal immigrants and dirty old men can fantasize about her all they want, but you’re the one who’s gonna be doing it for real. The first time you walk into a strip club and have a stripper hand you money is one of the most gratifying feelings you will ever have. Like you have scored some great cosmic victory against the adult entertainment industry.
And while sex in the VIP room of a strip club is a fantasy most men have had since they saw "Beverley Hills Cop” at age 5 and wondered where these clubs full of naked women were located, the price you have to pay is severe. “Now wait, White Dade,” you say, “Can’t I just go into a strip club and if I’m cute and have some good game and a few grams of coke I can do that anyway?” HA! I say, HA! Why “HA!,” you ask? Fucking a stripper you meet at the club is an urban legend, that’s why. I have dated multiple strippers and managed a club for a short time, and I never saw much more than an extremely overpriced blowjob take place. And that was in a club that can only be described as the nastiest dive bar you’ve ever been to with a pole behind it. Any guy who tells you he fucked a stripper at the club, or took her home without a minimum of 8 grams of cocaine, should be treated with the same amount of credibility as a man who claims he doesn’t masturbate.
The only man who gets the privilege of getting ridden bareback in the champagne room and then being handed $800 in cash is Strip Club Boyfriend. You all know Strip Club Boyfriend. He’s that young, fairly attractive guy sitting in the back of the club with a look on his face like he is waiting for his name to be called at the DMV. He could not be more bored by the scores of naked women walking by, and he is probably either reading a magazine or talking on his cell phone. Possibly both. Either way he is a surly sonofabitch and doesn’t want to talk to you. I have mastered the art of Strip Club Boyfriend. I go to clubs with friends now and if they are off getting lap dances, the bouncers come up and ask who I am waiting for. It’s pretty funny.
You know why SCBF is so pissed off? Because he knows the entire car ride home he may get in three words as his girlfriend regales her tales of the nasty customer who tried to lick her vagina and how drunk Boogie, Barbie and Princess were. Then she will no doubt do a few key bumps of coke as he drives her home at 3 AM, causing her to talk incessantly into the night, even though he has to get up for work at 7:30 (actually, that last part isn’t really true. Strip Club Boyfriend generally has one job, and that is Strip Club Boyfriend. If you are in LA, he is an actor). He also knows that when he gets home his girlfriend will not want to have sex because she has been getting naked all night and is too tired. She will want sex, however, at the absolute most inconvenient time, like when his mother calls, right as he puts a frozen pizza in the over, or during the fourth quarter of the Patriots-Panthers Super Bowl. And if you deny her, be prepared for a lamp, ashtray or other blunt object to be hurled in your direction within 15 seconds. Mood swings are to strippers what apathy is to potheads.
There is one universal fact you must understand if you wish to undertake arelationship wth an exotic dancer: PEOPLE WHO TAKE THEIR CLOTHES OFF FOR MONEY ARE NOT MENTALLY STABLE. If you can handle that, the money is really good. But be forewarned that having your girlfriend pay for everything has its consequences. You like free dinners at nice restaurants? I hope you like sushi. You think having a girlfriend that works on the weekend will free you up to spend time with your boys? Be prepared to answer your cell phone at least once every half-hour, with a yapping strung out voice on the other line reminding you who paid for that outfit you’re wearing and the drinks you are drinking. If you try and not take her money, you’d better be making more money than she is. Of course, if you were making that much, you probably wouldn’t be dating a stripper in the first place.
Oh, and if you ever, ever threaten to leave, you will be reminded that every man who sees her wants her, and that guy who paid her $800 to come over and just “talk” has asked her out three times this week. Apparently he has her cell phone number. She will be fucking someone else within an hour and a half, if not less. Or at least this is what she will have you believing.
So do not date a stripper unless you are fully confident in your own sexual abilities, or if you are even a smidge jealous. Do not date a stripper if you have this old-fashioned masculine need to take care of a woman. Do not date a stripper if you want a girlfriend with any sort of future. And lastly, do not date a stripper unless you are mentally prepared to ride the same emotional roller coaster as a woman with a drug habit, extremely-low self esteem and more money than she knows what to do with. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. It may sound like fun, but when you are spending your Saturday nights reading Sports Illustrated in the back of Déjà Vu, you will wish you had listened to me.