I Am a Man

I’ve been to strip clubs twice in my life both in different circumstances but both for the same basic reason; to prove I could do it, sit in a testosterone filled room and pretend the women there wanted to dance for me because I am a man.

The memory of my first time has faded, fuzzy like memories of all 18th birthdays are, tainted by alcohol and regret but I think I liked it, I think I did feel like a man for the first time in my life. Having just finished school and moved out of home it felt like something only the truly free could do. Staring at breasts unapologetically is essentially screaming to the world “I am a masculine stereotype and proud”. As someone who had/does struggle with not being a typically masculine man I can remember that for sometime afterwards being to a strip club with a group of friends was like a vaccination against attacks on my manhood, though like all vaccinations my immunity to criticism weakened over time.

The memory of my second visit is far more vivid and, perhaps as a result, distressing. After drinks at a friend’s new house close to the clubbing district me and another friend, at his behest, headed to the closest strip club. For 3 hours we stared at women with sad eyes dance on a stage, some were middle-aged some young, some high, some pretty and some not – but all, in their own unique way, sad. While we watched waitresses in skimpy outfits brought us drinks and prostitutes propositioned us, the men around me willed themselves, no doubt with the aid of some strong drinks, into believing the fiction. One pretty but clearly high young girl danced to Coldplay’s “Paradise”, the grossly inappropriate lyrics still make me feel ill (“when she was just a girl/ she expected the world/ but it flew away from her reach…). She finished and dressed herself, sat at the bar by herself and stared vacantly into the distance.

Its unfair to say that all women in strip clubs are weak pawns in a male dominated world, some entries here suggest the opposite, but it was true of this place. I went to a strip club to prove to the world I was a man, maybe I did but as the brother to 3 sisters I don’t think I can justify it on the basis of my self esteem again. I’m pretty bad with women but I prefer rejection to guilt.

I Am in a Fantasy World

I go to Strip Clubs because it's about control. Isn't it always about control? In the world we live in control is simply measured by the almighty Benjamin. I have a few hours and few Benjamin's to pretend I am in a fantasy world where men dictate the rules. As men, we have always been a slave to this desire for control. Would a strip club even exist if it wasn't for this false promise? In the end strip clubs are just this false promise because even through men like to think we have control, we really don't.

Perversely I also like strip clubs because I like woman who are in control. A confident woman, comfortable with who they are, playing the game allowing me to think that I might matter in their little world that evening is worth the price of admission. It's like being in high school again. Trying to get into a girl's pants but this time you have the Benjamin that says this is my night. This is probably what I most like about strip clubs and that is this give and take. Women pretend you matter and men pretend they matter.

While most Feminist would say that a strip clubs demean and objectify women, I believe any woman who has the ultimate control in this situation, really, has the upper hand. Does it bring them self confidence? Perhaps this is just a slimy justification on my part. I imagine most women dance; not because they enjoy it, but because they have to feed their families or something else. This is the cold reality of strip clubs but I prefer to think they dance for the pleasure of making me poorer. Regardless of what I think; I will pass along my Benjamin's, and when that Benjamin is passed along there is always that look in the girl's eyes that says I got you sucker...

I probably put way too much thought into a strip club. I'm a married man. My wife fulfills me in the bedroom and engages in my fantasies by wearing stripper like clothes. I have no complaints. So why then would I want to go to a strip club? Bottom line - it is helluva a lot easier to pay someone to dance for you then to go through the marital minefield of give and take to wrangle some time to get your significant other into a mood to fulfill those fantasies. It's like walking on eggshells sometimes around the house just to get the stars aligned and feel like for once I am dictating the bedroom. Therefore when a guys only weekend to Vegas is on the horizon, the desire to be someone else and have that control is worth every dime. Two to three hours of fantasy, to forget your mortgage, your day job, and feel like a player. Relive those days when you thought you always had a chance. It is a kind of pathetic but it's nice not to have to wash dishes or mow the lawn to get a woman willing to grind in your lap and make you feel like a man. In today's PC world it is nice not to have to think about playing the game and just sit back and have a few tits thrown your way.

I'm a Single Heterosexual Man with a Sex Drive

Why do I go to strip clubs? To be honest, and at the risk of coming off as pretentious, it’s a bit complicated.

I suppose the first and most straightforward honest answer to that is that I’m a single heterosexual man with a sex drive, I consequently enjoy seeing women naked, and strip clubs offer me a chance to do so. Ergo, I go to strip clubs to fulfill these urges. There are, of course, other ways to do this, some perhaps cheaper, or more satisfying, or perhaps more morally, socially and ethically justifiable. But I find strip clubs have an appeal that some of these lack.

A more complex answer is that I go to strip clubs to at least partly fill the void that is my completely non-existent sex life. The obvious question here is, of course, ‘why not get a girlfriend’? Unfortunately, in my case at least, that’s easier said than done. To be honest, I have self-esteem issues, and I’m rather shy and uncomfortable in social settings. While some of my closest ever friends have been women, I’m not very confident or assertive in bridging the friendship-romantic partner divide; I was actually in love with one of these women but found myself unable to express my feelings to her before she moved out of my life, something which I think is still affecting my ability to establish romantic and sexual relationships.

Outside of these friendships I find approaching women romantically or sexually difficult and embarrassing, to the point where I am on the point of entering my thirties and remain a virgin. I'm not automatically opposed to one-night stands, but I'm hardly a player and women don't seem to be that in to me. Strip clubs, then, offer an environment where this isn’t really a problem -- and where women, in fact, are approaching me, although I’m not naive enough to believe that this is for any other reason than me being a potential customer (although, while I'm hardly an Adonis, I do flatter myself that I'm not completely repulsive to these ladies, and do at least try to make an effort and be presentable for them).

Despite the above, however, I honestly wouldn’t say I was incredibly or painfully lonely, at least not to the degree that some have described on the blog; in fact, I’m naturally a quite solitary person and quite comfortable being on my own for long periods. But I still have needs. Besides the obvious lack of sex, I’m not very happy being single, and the lack of a girlfriend or partner in my life is a cause of some depression (particularly when I consider those around me and the fact that I’m getting older). I want to make a connection with someone and with a stripper I am at least able to temporarily do so, even if it is artificial and ultimately meaningless.

Furthermore, while I watch pornography to satisfy these urges more often than I go to a club -- I'm a bit of a homebug and it's cheaper and less hassle to load up a site rather than go out for the evening -- I much prefer the strip club experience over pornography. Porn is unrealistic and exaggerated, it puts you at a distance, whereas in a strip club it's all happening there, right in front of you. There's a tangibility and reality to the experience that is lacking in porn. Besides which, I often feel uncomfortable, depressed and unfulfilled after watching porn, while an evening at a strip club will, conversely, often cheer me up and boost my confidence and spirits for a while afterwards.

At the other end of the scale, prostitution does not really appeal -- in my most depressive or sexually frustrated moments I’ve considered it, but I’m concerned about issues regarding consent, exploitation, disease and legality which are conversely not part of the strip club experience, or at least not to what seems like the same degree. While it’s certainly not unproblematic, stripping and even lap-dancing seems less objectionable than prostitution; there are limits there. It might not be a complete sexual experience, but least after visiting a strip club I can look myself in the mirror afterwards, which I’m not sure I could do if I engaged the services of a prostitute.

Strip clubs offer me something of a half-way point between these; it might not be 'full' sex, but it is nevertheless a sexually-charged experience I find more-or-less satisfying. While I’m happy to just watch the main performances, I will usually get a lap-dance (sometimes more than one) if it’s offered. To be honest, I love them. I find them exhilarating; not just because of the obvious ‘tits and ass’ on offer (although I can’t honestly claim to be above those visceral pleasures), but it’s the little things I tend to enjoy and take most out of the experience; the weight of a woman sitting on my lap, her breath in my ear, the scent of her perfume in my nose or, in the case of one establishment which permitted contact between the dancer and the patron (within obvious limits), the feel of her skin under my hands.

After my first few experiences, once I’d gotten over the immediate embarrassment and awkwardness I found I enjoyed the company of the ladies; even if they were just viewing me as a customer, in the few establishments I’ve visited they have, at least for the most part, been pleasant, charming and friendly about it. I also find that strip clubs provide a ‘safe’ environment to practice my flirting techniques; I’m not very good, and after saying something I often feel embarrassed and sheepish and worry that I sound like an idiot, but I at least try not to be crude and the women at least tend to respond in good humour. I’ve never got the sense that I’ve upset or offended any of them, at least. So, another reason why I go to them; I find I enjoy the company.

All this said, I’m conscious that strip clubs are problematic. While I might enjoy the experience, I’m not proud of myself for visiting them, and afterwards tend to feel a bit guilty. I don’t go to clubs often -- a handful of times a year at most. I find I've gone years without going to a club, although since my main social circles have dissipated of late I’ve found I’ve recently started going to them more often. I’ve been doing this a few years, and even now I often have to build my courage up for even weeks at a time before I can work up the nerve to go out and I still get paranoid about bumping in to someone I know or something terrible happening that reveals my secret. Sometimes, I can’t even enter the door if there happens to be other people out on the street.

There’s a few reasons behind this; I was raised Catholic, but to be honest religion hasn’t been a bit part of my life since I was a teenager, and I find many religious teachings on sexuality absurd and outdated. I’d say it was more political; I was raised to respect women, and have studied and worked in environments which stress feminist values and women’s rights. Visiting strip clubs and getting lap-dances is, in many ways, contrary to what I have been taught about this, and I can’t help but feel that I’m doing something wrong, that I’m making these women’s lives worse and contributing to the oppression of women and such by doing so. I’m also a bit awkward and uncomfortable with my sexuality, and ‘repressed’ isn’t an entirely unfair word to describe me, which doesn’t make things easier. I can’t help but feel that I’m to a degree objectifying and judging the women involved, and then feel bad for doing so.

When I do go to a club, then, I at least try to be respectful and polite; these women might make their money taking their clothes off for men, but that’s no reason to treat them like objects or possessions. If I flirt with the ladies, I try to do so in a way that’s not offensive or crude, and I tend to let them take charge, make the first move and defer to them. I’m not great with alcohol, and I don’t drink much anyway, but I tend to strictly stick to water or soft-drinks. I make sure to strictly observe the rules and limits of the establishment and those the ladies set down on top of this. I also try to control my reactions to the women themselves; I’m pretty socially awkward anyway, and I’m self-conscious of not appearing like a creep or a lech. Nevertheless, I like to think the ladies I’ve encountered have gone away from the encounter considering me a gentleman -- or as much as is possible for me to be in an environment where a half-naked woman has her breasts right in my face, at least.

I Had Forgotten How Nice Natural Feels

Going to strip clubs in Las Vegas is fun. Women hit on you all night trying to get a big tip. Strippers are women that would not talk to you in the real world or spread rumors about you just because you said hello. One stripper got upset because I thought her natural breasts where the new silicone implants. I have felt so many saline implants that I had forgotten how nice natural feels.

I Felt Alive

I'm not sure why I'm writing this. Maybe because Valentine's day is tomorrow and I'm in that kind of a mood.

I've never been much of a ladies' man. The first kiss I ever had was from a stripper I met when I visited a club at age 19. I went with a group of guys who were all older than I, and it was more of a novelty to them. I'd never seen a naked woman before, let alone touched one.

My first visit to a strip club was like a religious experience. Everything I had ever hoped and dreamed possible was right there in front of me, on stage. The very idea that I could make eye contact with a naked woman was nothing short of astounding. I never would have attempted eye contact with a fully clothed woman out in the "real world".

It was as if the entire world was upside down inside the four walls of the club. Women were expected to make the first move, not men. Women flirted with men. Women were dominant. My loneliness and insecurity were not liabilities here. They were seen as cute, quaint, even desirable traits for a man to have. When I got my first lapdance, I felt like I was on a higher plane of existence occupied only by the two of us. The music faded out, the lights dimmed, and all I could feel was the warmth of her soft skin and tight body rubbing against me.

After that first trip, I begged any reason I could think of to talk "the guys" into going. We visited a few more times, but the rest of them quickly lost interest. To them, the teasing and titillation they received from the strippers was seen as a bad thing. To me, it was like a drug. It wasn't long after that I started going by myself.

Years came and went, and I turned into a regular. Still ever the virgin, I sought refuge within that club. The cold, hostile, rejection-filled world of dating lived outside. When I was there, I could relax, be myself, and women loved me for me. Even though I knew none of the affection was real, I was able to feel normal, even if it was only for one night, and only for a few hours. During that time, I felt alive.

And then that affection became real to me. I fell in love with a stripper named Nikki; a beautiful, petite blonde. I somehow managed to fool myself into thinking that some how, some way, her affection was real. I spent all my time and money with her when I went, and it felt like pure bliss. Eventually, I came to my senses and quit coming to the club out of shame. I realized I'd crossed a line that I once promised myself I would never cross.

Back in the real world, my love life was still non-existent. I wanted more than anything in the world to have a real emotional connection with a real woman. But I was lucky to get one date a year in the real world. I finally lost my virginity at age 25, when a friend introduced me to a girl he worked with. She used me for a few weeks and then stopped returning my calls when the novelty of having sex with a virgin wore off.

Reluctantly, I returned to the world of strip clubs - this time at a new club. Sometime in my mid-20s, I slowly started to lose any hope that I would ever know what it felt like to be in a relationship with a real woman. All my friends got married and had kids, which I wanted desperately to experience for myself. I wasn't holding out for a stripper-quality girlfriend. Not by a longshot. I just never learned how to meet women. I never learned how to get a woman to like me. Once in a great while, I would meet a woman and even have a date or two. I would get excited that maybe things were finally going to happen. But invariably, she would lose interest in me and move on. It always followed that pattern. She would think the world of me, but didn't feel "that way" about me..

I'm 35 now, and it hurts me more than anything I can put into words how lonely I am, and how utterly ashamed I am that I have never managed to so much as even have a relationship with a woman. I've never had a woman in my life that I could call "my girlfriend". Every night I go to bed and cry myself to sleep out of loneliness. This is not the life I wanted, and I would do anything to change it. Every night I dream about what it would be like to be truly accepted by a woman. I fantasize about what it would feel like for a woman to choose to be with me. Eventually I fall asleep, the tears drying on my pillow.

In 16 years, I have spent $44,500 at strip clubs. I'll probably go again soon, the next time I feel lonely.

And tomorrow is Valentine's day.