Obi-J

A funny thing happened to me while at the strip club this past Saturday night. In general, I avoid going to these establishments due to the combination of the creepy dude factor and the incessant “hey cutie, how about a dance?” hard sell from the women working. But when one of your friends is getting married, strip clubs are the de facto location to sew those wild oats.

I actually tried to get out of going as best I could, since I’d rather not lay down cash to spend a few moments with some random nekkid woman, but circumstance was not in my favor. So rather than cross my arms and stare at the wall hoping to escape, I took some advice of a friend, and with it, tried to enjoy the experience as best I could.

There was no way I was going to throw down cash for couch dances, so this meant spending time at the stages handing out a dollar and a holla! here and there. To everyone’s suprise, the place didn’t allow nudity since there was a bar, except they would go topless on the main stage as well as in the champagne room. While most in the group and a number of random guys complained, I was a bit relieved since there left a bit more mystery and was a lot less trashy.

I noticed that most the girls seemed to stare off into space or just stick their ass in the direction of the patrons. They also seemed pretty bored. So I began a game of “eye contact” hoping to get them to smile or even laugh. Strip clubs tend to be pretty creepy, so I needed a way to alleviate some of that, and the flirtatious game seemed like a good way to lighten up the mood and make it far more flirty than trashy. Having seen a few burlesque shows in the past month I’ve found the eye contact to be far more sexy than plain old nudity and ass clapping.

My smiles appeared to have quite an affect on the women. Granted, they are strippers and it’s their job to be playful, but I received a fair amount more attention than others around the stage even though I was only laying down a buck or two. Suprisingly, only one woman asked if I wanted a couch dance. This was a relief because some of them won’t take no for an answer. Or, they’ll take like ten no’s before they leave you alone.

As it was getting closer to 2:00 the group was growing bored and ready to leave, but not knowing the next destination meant a few more minutes to kill. So I sat down in front of the small stage figuring I’d throw out a few more tips that I hadn’t yet doled out.

The woman on stage danced around the pole and I continued my little game, and she played hers, getting on her hands and knees crawling over to me in an animalistic way, getting about 2 inches from my face and I gave her a little “meow”. She responded in kind and with a laugh, and I laughed in return.

When she was done, I got up to go over to my friends to leave. But she immediately grabbed my shoulder and told me to wait a moment. Figuring she was about to give me the hard sell, I was prepared to reject her offer for a couch dance. But instead, she told me that her shift was over soon and wanted to know what I was doing after. At that moment I was pretty taken back. In my head I’m thinking, “Did she just ask me out? I mean, I only gave her like $3″. She went on to say there was a cool house party and that I should come. I asked where it was, but was told it was for “friends only” so I would’ve had to ditch my friends to go with her.

I have to say, I was really intrigued and wanted to ditch my friends because an opportunity like this only happens once in a blue moon. In the span of about 3 seconds I weighed my options and in my head ran a whole number of scenariors, from crack house to raging disco party. But it just didn’t make sense. I mean, while I’d like to think that I’m not just some regular guy off the street, in the grand scheme of things I really am just another guy. But maybe she saw something in me that was different. Maybe she can read people better than most, and saw that I was just looking to have fun and she didn’t feel it necessary to try and dig in my pockets. Maybe she was just looking for a friend and some company. Probably not, but who knows.

In the end, I said that I couldn’t go. She understood, but then then offered me her email address taking me over to the bar so she could write it down on a cocktail napkin. Again, for real?

While I’m sure she doesn’t ask many guys out, I’m certain there was an element of warming up to me in hopes of getting some $$ out of me. But I really don’t know. Still, I’m kicking myself for not going. Not because I wanted hot action, but because it’s really not something that happens all the time. I’m certain it would’ve made for a great story regardless of whether I ended up at some fabulous party or in some dingy apartment with strung out peeps riding the rails. That didn’t matter as much as the adventure of it all. So I’m left to imagine what would’ve happened. And in my imagination, she was totally into me, we went to a kickass party, with tight music, wonderful people, and she was sweet and smart and fun, and we had pancakes at sunrise.