men that dont love stripclubs - C or D or psycho or prudeish or just plain weird and prone to creepy tendencies?

basically, gear! otm.

But it's not even the slightest. It's dud for the women, it should be dud for the men, and it's really dud for that DJ who's playing that gawd-awful hair-metal techno mash-up for the thirty-sixth time.

"Would I like to buy my date a drink?" WHO'S PATRONIZING WHO?

the other prob i have with these places is i feel like i might need to tip a lot and its therefore expensive, and thats something i just cant afford.

i just tend to overtip. it comes from my days as a waiter. i'm more reasonable now though. there was this one woman who worked at the coffee bar near where i lived who i was completely in lust over and one day i found out that she also stripped at a club downtown in philly. that was the only time i was ever tempted to go to a strip club. just to watch her shake her ample booty. but i chickened out. i don't like MEN enough to go to a strip club.

haha yes.

The two times that i've been to a strip club that was not part of an otherwise organized event(Santa Rampage, watching a PPV, etc), i've been FAR more interested in one of the women i was with than anybody onstage.

Of course, i now live in the town that has like the high stripper per capita ratio in north america or somesuch...

Fun Fact: did you know that stripclubs in the central florida area are booze free, or at least are booze free if they are fully nude? so if you decide to go to the champagne room you are spending hundreds of dollars for a bottle of sparkling grape juice?

Thus we resign ourselves to getting off on, having a relationship with, the fantasy, never the woman herself. Jean Clavreul, writing about 'the interests of the pervert,' claims that they 'must above all be rigorously of no use, to lead nowhere. Anything validated by the pervert is marked with the seal of uselessness...'

The paradoxical dancer's body is thus a 'zoned' body, organized and marked with paternal signifiers ('dead presidents'), a body whose realness cannot be encountered independent of the symbolics in which it is immersed. The dancer's body is a place of inscription... Hers is a tight body. Strikingly tanned, the naked body appears costumed, sealed armored... The pasties, garters, stockings, satin thongs, shiny shiny boots of leather, heels, gloves, jewelry, piercings, tattoos, lipstick, makeup, hair weaves, wigs, breast implants, neatly trimmed (if not cleanly shaved) pubis, whatever, all serve to turn the body's erogenous zones into eroticized zones, tightly covered with a 'second skin' of mass cultural signifiers... A dancer's body is never really in front of you at all."

--Michael Uebel, "Striptopia," 2004

All along the sides of the "dancefloor" there are these little booths you can go in for a "private" dance. Basically everyone can watch as a stripper gives you a private lapdance. For $40 you can choose a discreet booth, where no one can see. According to my friend, they basically dry hump you butt naked and you can touch them.

Now for $100...you go in the "backroom" and from what i hear anything goes but fucking. I've heard people have gotten handjobs and blowjobs back there. Quite frankly this is a bit scary.

Not that I've ever been to one. Curiously, for a while there I was seeing a woman who worked in one - and still never went.