Sunday, September 20, 2015

Shameful Strip Club Stories Part 3: Questionable Sexuality, Monster & A Few Men Left Behind

By now, you've hopefully read part 1 and part 2 of my Shameful Strip Club Stories.   If not, go back and do it.  Then settle in for the next installment here.

            This one occurred when I was on a party bus for a bachelor party; as such I had absolutely no say in when or how we ended up at this strip club, which was in a pretty rough area.  As is normal for these situations, most of the guys on the bus had been drinking for 7+ hours at this point, so the bus was just a rolling shit-show as we pulled into the parking lot of this strip club.  I, being a seasoned drinker, was one of the few people actually still capable of being a person at this point in the night, but that didn’t stop the rest of the bus from fist-pumping their way into the club with the free passes that I, for the life of me, have no idea how we got.

                As I’ve already expressed, due to being constantly uncomfortable around other human beings, I’m not really the target consumer for a strip club, so I immediately went up to the bar and started going to town on some Jack & Cokes (I needed caffeine and I like whiskey).   These were considerably cheaper than my drinks in Vegas, which means I had plenty more than $12 in my pocket with which to continue imbibing at an unhealthy rate, as I furiously tried to forget that probably everything around me was covered in some unholy mixture of bodily fluid and glitter.   In fact, since I had more than $12 on me and because the drinks were pretty cheap, I even ended up buying several drinks for one of the other guys on the bus who was in an absolute panic because his debit card wouldn’t work, his phone wouldn’t let him log into his account and his bank’s customer service line does not consider lap dances enough of a financial emergency to keep him on the line until the problem was resolved (I only bought him alcohol, I told him he was shit out of luck if he wanted to spend money on anything else, I’m not that nice of a guy).

                Now, despite the fact that my nose was entirely buried in my drink while I was there, the girls were working hard to make a sale with me.  And, as usual, I was just not comfortable with any part of anything going on around me (with the exception of the whiskey I was pouring down my throat, I was quite comfortable with that).  Eventually, after turning down several girls, a few of them started coming back with harsher tactics in some strange attempt to get me to submit by questioning my manhood.  Girl after girl, upon being turned down by me would ask, “Why not?  Are you gay?”   After assuring several of them that I was not, in fact gay (not that there’s anything wrong with that!), I finally decided to have a little bit of fun with this.  I put on the most flamboyant voice I could muster and just engaged the conversation with the next girl that came across (my flamboyant voice will be in italics because it was so smoothly executed).

            “Hey there, how about a private dance?”
            “No thanks, I’m alright.”
            “Why don’t you want a dance, are you gay?”
Oh, heavens no! I’m not gay sweetie, just here with some of my guy friends for a party.  Those silly boys must have wandered off somewhere and left me all by my little lonesome here at the bar.”
            “Well, since your friends left you all alone, you could come with me and have some fun.”
Aww, that’s sweet-as-sugar of you to offer, hun.  But I think I better just keep my lil tushie right here until they get back.  It’d be awful scary if I got left behind. The boogeyman might just pop out of the shadows and kidnap me!”
“Eh…um, how about a drink?”
You are such a sweetheart! But I’ve already got one.   Oh goodness gracious, you meant for you!  Sure thing, girlfriend.  What’ll you have?”
“A Monster.”
One energy drink, coming right up for ya, pumpkin.  I’m sure you’ll need all those oodles of energy to keep shakin’ it out there!  Great talking to you, but I’ve gotta scoot, I see my friends. Take care, doll face!”

She walked away after that, probably convinced that I was either gay (nope) or out of my fucking mind (likely), but she also didn’t bother me anymore for the rest of the time I was there.  It’s worth noting that the fucking Monster I bought her cost more than my Jack & Coke and I cannot begin to express how much bullshit that is.  Unfortunately, the rest of the night didn’t really go smoothly either.  As the bus was getting ready to leave, we found out how outrageously difficult it is to round up 15 drunk guys in a strip club.  There were 3 of us sober(ish) enough to try accomplishing this, but as soon as we found a guy and got him onto the bus, he would wander back into the club in an attempt to drunkenly help us round up everyone else, making it completely impossible to ever know how many guys were actually outside on the bus at any given time.  Eventually, we had one of the sober(ish) ones stay at the bus to keep all the drunks inside.  And we got everyone on to the bus except one.

It took another 15 minutes of trolling through the club before we finally found the missing guy in a private room.  He was very clear in telling us that he was having a good time and we should leave him there.  This guy was a long way from his home town, had a dead cell phone, was piss wasted in a strip club in a bad part of the city and was absolutely adamant about the fact that he was staying.  Well, as grown-ups, sometimes you just have to deal with your own stupid damn choices, so we all hopped back on the bus to leave, but not before one more guy fucking action-rolled off the bus shouting “I’m staying, too!”

We probably would have held a moment of silence for them on the bus ride home, but the silence was shattered by a guy who was passed out snoring in the back of the bus with his head on another guy’s lap.  The two guys that stayed did end up surviving the night and I hope I never end up back at that club, but if I do, I’m talking to every last person there in that flamboyant voice. And you bet your sweet bottom that I mean it!

We're almost to the end, so keep an eye out for the final installment in my Shameful Strip Club Stores: The Worst Way To Sober Up.


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