thongs thongs everywhere

last night was my friend km's bachelor party.
he wanted a "traditional" bachelor party.

we started in golden gate park with the group of men eating mexican food, drinking whiskey and drilling km with questions about why he's getting married. this interrogation had happened before, so he was prepared and had suitable answers. he was allowed to keep his pants on.

we then, as mature men will do, proceeded to give him advice. this, i will not share with you, but i will say ... well, no I won't.

and then, as all good bachelor parties do, we hit the strip clubs. i had never yet had the, um, pleasure? of going to a strip club and, lo! 2 in one night!

we started at Larry Flynt's Hustler Club right next to the woman-owned co-op, The Lusty Lady (where I know a few dancers). the hustler club is like a candy store for dirty old men ... and bachelors. scantily-clad *beautiful* women roaming the floor and sitting on laps, chatting you up and trying to take your precious dollars - all while taking turns dancing on the main stage in the middle of the club.

i was quite pleased and amused that the mirror on the ceiling at the top of the pole had scratch marks on it from the deadly heels on their shoes. i have never before seen such, er, ... pole work.

all in all it wasn't an unpleasant experience - mostly because the women were real. that is, you could have real conversations with them. i really just wanted to interview most of them as to why they were dancers, if they truly enjoyed it - or if it was just a job, how they dealt with the sleazeballs, how it affected relationships, etc.

one of the boys arranged my first-ever lap dance from Sasha. sasha was sweet. sasha was hot. sasha was very good at her job. and in order to enjoy the experience, i had to turn off the progressive, moral part of my brain and just allow myself to get wrapped up in the fantasy.

there's something to be said about that fantasy. i mean, if a girlfriend performed a lap dance for me, it would be hot, but there is that added allure to knowing you can't go any further with the women in the club. no touching, no kissing, nothing. there's something very erotic about that.

the other thing that surprised me about the club is that the women weren't physically augmented. i find fake bodies and plastic surgery rather revolting. the women were very down-to-earth and real (even though their goal is to get you to spend money). when that relationship is understood, it leaves room for honesty.

after km had his fill of hot women in his lap, we went to "The World Famous Crazy Horse". the dancer's here get fully nude and because of that, there's no alcohol. allow me to set the scene. you walk into a long, narrow room. the back is set up like your typical movie theater (though I am glad to report the floors are no where near as sticky as a movie theater - go figure). then, at the front of the room is a long, red-carpeted cat-walk with three rows of seats on either side. at the far end of the catwalk is the small stage with ... you guessed it ... mirrors and poles!

scattered about the room are smal groups of men and some individuals. not too many are sitting up along the catwalk, so we took our seats on either side. this is where you put your money and get the, er, close-ups of the dancers. the women were attractive and certainly dance well ... but, I had a real issue with this place. it felt demeaning and demoralizing. i found myself doing mental brainflips between thoughts like (a) "there are hot naked women undulating in front of me" (b) "i hate watching these women be so objectified and removed from the experience" (c) "you don't know your friends until you see them react to boobs and ass being smooshed in their faces", and (d) i think i might leave here with a puncture wound from a stiletto"

it's honestly a difficult experience to convey. on the one hand, i just don't like the idea of strippers and the negative connotations that go along with the profession. on the other hand, i'm a man and there are very attractive women dancing in my lap or undulating on the floor in front of me. there's the natural impulse to be turned on by it all and then the rational brain gets in there and reminds you how fucked up it all is. at first i felt guilty about that side of me that enjoyed it, but now i just see that there are different aspects to the experience.

suffice it to say, it was enjoyable on some levels and unpleasant on others and i'm very glad i went with such a great group of men. would i do it again? i wouldn't choose to, but if it was a similar situation where i was giving a party for someone whose request it was to go ... i'd check it out.