One of these tourist reports typically pops up in my Google alerts every week. Someone ventures inside a strip club for the first time and shares his/her tale with the world as if he/she is Neil Armstrong. Last week it was an insecure lesbian who felt threatened when a stripper at Jumbo’s talked to her date. Even cool writers are guilty of lame tourist reports where they sound grateful to have made it out alive.
This week’s gem is featured on dating advice website, YourTango, and it’s a doozy. (YourTango was never even on my radar until the founder/CEO embarrassed herself last summer with that bizarre Indian fetishist piece in the Huffington Post.) The author starts off by letting us know that she’s boldly going where no woman has gone before: a bachelor party weekend in Atlantic City with 27 dudes.
The 26 friends of her college buddy are bummed to have a chick crashing the party, but she is prepared to prove herself at any cost, “Even though Josh inviting me should have been enough to vet my worthiness, I had to convince these guys I wasn’t a spy.” Most of the piece is an account of how desperately she works to win each and every last guy’s approval. She keeps up with their partying and gambling. She lets the dudes watch her shower. She babysits the drunkest ones. And of course, after eating steak with the boys, she partakes in a strip club expedition.
She stops to reflect on how “extra degrading” it is that the strippers have to wipe the pole off between sets. Out of all the judgy things that I’ve read by outsiders, I’ve never seen anyone get stuck on this pedestrian strip club occurrence. When the bachelor party starts buying dances, she jumps at the chance to join in on the fun and settles on a girl named “Treasure.”
At this point, she feels that she has won almost everyone over. Five dudes weren’t kissing her approval-seeking ass, so the weekend was not yet a success. What was she supposed to do? Let them not like her and ignore them? NO. She does what any sensible woman would do in her position; she gets a kneejob in front of the group and then brags about it.
To the amazement of everyone in the room, including me, I got a full on happy ending, something none of the other 27 bachelor party participants were lucky enough to get. The last five holdouts admitted to Josh that I might be the coolest chick ever. I manned up, even more than the men, and the irony was lost on no one. Well, maybe on Treasure, just a little bit.
Sigh. Where to start? Who does that? (If one of the other members of her party wanted to show off like that, he would have to jizz his pants… Would that be “cool”? Would it?) If she “put some effort into it”? That means she probably dry-humped the shit out of the stripper’s leg. Nice one. (When women keep raising their crotches up at us, we call that the “dentist chair.”)
It seems to me that she’s not aroused by Treasure, but rather by having 27 men watch her hump someone’s leg, arch her back and squirm her body around. It’s also great that she doesn’t bother to tip the dancer extra for helping her (allegedly) impress “everyone in the room.” It’s just so ironic that she’s the one female in the group and she’s the one who paid to get off. Of course the woman performing for the group of men for money wouldn’t understand the irony, because she’s just a pole wiper with a messed-up childhood and not the author of Divorced By 30.