Stripper Titties and the Faded Charm

This is why expectations suck. The minute I start to hype shit up, it always goes down the tubes. The last two times I’ve been to a strip club, I’ve had a fucking awesome time. Bottle service at Scores the first time, where we got shitty and started to at first, buy each other lap dances, then later perform them for each other. A few weeks later I went to the gentleman’s club Tens at 2am with a few guy friends and my little brother. I was blitzed and rocked the pole for a while as men stuffed dollar bills into my shirt and my brother was in a corner getting lap dances. All in all, that qualifies as a fucking awesome time. Titties, booze, and dollar bills that I helped to pay for my cab ride home.

So, when the girls from my strip class wanted to check out Tens with me to see what I’ve been talking obsessively about in class, I jumped at the chance. I mean, I love to share the stripper tittie wealth, you know?

However, as soon as I got there, I realized that this night wasn’t on the same trajectory that my other run-ins with strip clubs have been like. First of all, moi, attention whore extraordinaire whose lack of inhibitions pave the way for my other more mild mannered compatriots to act out, was stuffed from vendor dinner and drinks. This is how I know I am getting old: a few months ago, I would have pulled a sorority girl and puked up dinner to make more room for my drinks but, today, I dealt with that horrible feeling of too much food and too much drink. I was craving a tums instead of a second extra dirty Grey Goose martini. As an FYI to you ladies, stuffing your face with wine and cheese then going to a strip a few hours later will not make you feel hot. Even if the girls at Tens “got back”. It doesn’t change the fact that you are bloated and your tummy “got front” over your jeans.

So, trying to be frugal, because the last time strip class went to Scores, bottle service and lap dances set us back quite a bit. Instead of plunking down a credit card, we all paid for our drinks in cash. When you have to go into your bag and take out your wallet each time you want a drink, you become aware of just how much you are drinking and how much those drinks are costing you. Hence, I didn’t make it past the two drinks that failed to make a dent in my sobriety. It just wasn’t worth the money nor the calories.

However, attention whore-dom doesn’t only come out with the aid of alcohol. As I grew up going to gay clubs where the music reigned King of the night next to the queens (well, once you take out the drugs and sex that went along with those places), I have a very hard time sitting still when I catch the beat of the music. But I didn’t feel all sexy and fun and fabulous when I made my way up onto the pole. Especially since I fucked up my pole tricks because I was wearing flip flops and a heavy meal in my belly.

IMing my friend Katie, I told her about the disappointing evening.

Shannon: Lesson from last night: strip clubs are only fun when you are blitzed

Katie: They can lose their luster in the harsh glare of sobriety

It's actually kinda true. Although, getting a tour of the champagne room, I had to say, I had some impure thoughts.

And now, I am hobbling around work because, I think I pulled a muscle.

So, let’s re-cap. I can’t drink the way I used to and I pulled a muscle because I didn’t stretch before I performed my pole tricks.

And I am going out again tonight. I need a vacation from myself.