Queer Eye From a Straight Guy: The Male Strip Club
There are nights you go out drinking.
And then there are nights you go out drinking and one of the first things you hear is “I wanna see some dick tonight!”
I suppose I’m getting slightly ahead of myself and should paint the picture a little better. A few weekends ago, my business took me to Washington, DC for the weekend to work a variety of events, ranging from Roger Waters to the Washington Redskins. However, I knew my stress level would go from Richard Simmons to Tony Soprano at the drop of a hat if everything did not run smoothly for a complete 72 hours. For this reason, I decided to invite a lady I recently started dating to join me for the ride. I figured this would accomplish two things. First and foremost, Richard Simmons would get his horsey ridden as many times as he needed. Secondly, if Tony Soprano’s heart rate was in danger of getting out of control, he could be calmed down before New Jersey’s finest found Carmela at the bottom of the garbage disposal.
The night began harmlessly enough: a local brewery with a group of friends, all of whom had gathered with the sincere intent of seeing who would carry whom home. As I ordered my first beer, I envisioned the night would progress like most evenings: some of us would wake up next to somebody we didn’t know, some of us would wake up next to a cell mate and some of us still would wake up in a situation so horrible we would wish we had been grouped in one of the other two categories.
Since hindsight is 20/20, I can not accurately say that there was also a fourth category, which was invisible at the time. One of us woke up more secure in his heterosexuality than ever before.
It was in the middle of round two at said bar that the idea of the male strip club came up. While I’m not sure where the idea came from or who pushed it like a political agenda, I do know that I didn’t hesitate in my answer or question its origin. And while I don’t regret my decision or the beer that may have slightly influenced it, I do know that if you had told me a month ago that I’d be nodding while another guy asked me “if I was OK seeing some dick,” I would have politely asked you to leave. And drank your beverage after the door hit you on the way out.
The club, shockingly enough, was male dominated. And we aren’t talking slightly dominated by a male or two; we are talking male domination that you can only otherwise see at a World of Warcraft cybersex convention. I quickly approached the bar and ordered my usual; some form of whiskey accompanied by one large rock to float in the sea but not water down the taste. The only portion unusual about this drink order was that while I ordered my bourbon on the rocks, I had a penis swinging in my face like a Broadway version of meatspin.
I’m not sure if this is a normal trait of male strip clubs or if I simply got lucky, but it wasn’t long before I realized that I was surrounded by naked men that made my slightly above average penis look like a corndog nugget. For the first hour or so, this was a humorous observation that caused me to chuckle and sip on my drink that much faster. After a while, however, the fact that I was surrounded by men with a torpedo between their legs made me feel completely insecure as not only a man, but as a penile companion. It wasn’t just that these guys were so much larger than me below the waist: it was the mental thought that while the girl next to me claimed she was into me, there was a schlong dangling in front of her face that resembled a prize winning cucumber as opposed to a Kroger brand gherkin.
As the night progressed, I began to realize that while they might look extremely similar on paper, the difference between males attending strip clubs to see boobs and males attending strip clubs to see wangs is completely different. Heterosexual men at a female strip club resemble the Whoopi Goldberg led pack of hyenas from The Lion King. Once inside, they treat the club as their hunting grounds, acting like wild animals as they drool over every female taco their eyes can get its hands on. While there are some exceptions, the very worst traits of men come out at a strip club; chances are, our women, if we’re lucky enough to have one, are at home, and we can kick back and have a little fun with the guys. And by “have a little fun,” I mean act like a complete chauvinist pig with no fear of consequences. We can let our eyes undress and bend over any dancer in the room. And when we are finished with them, we throw them aside like an early Christmas present in favor of a new shiny box underneath the tree.
On the other hand, homosexual men at a male strip club, from what I gathered, are the exact opposite. Instead of acting like piranhas who haven’t fed in weeks, they take a much more subtle approach and allow their arousal to develop over time and with a lot more class. As I glanced around at the men who had their eyes glued to the nearest penis, I did not see men ready to pounce like Mufasa, but rather an admiration. These guys did not come to the club in hopes of getting off; if they did, they were doing a damn good job of hiding it. Instead, these men seemed to have gathered to appreciate the male body. If you had taken away the loud music, the alcohol and the transgenders walking the runway behind me and added some Mozart and slow motion effects, I would have almost felt as if I was not in a dirty strip club in the nation’s capital, but rather a modern museum with live pieces of art.
I suppose when it comes down to it, the behavior of heterosexual men versus homosexual men at an establishment where both parties are paying other people to take their clothes off is a semi-accurate representation of the difference between your average gay man verses your average straight man. One group is acting like a barnyard animal while sipping on beer and awaiting a lap dance from Candy, while the other group is admiring from afar as they sip on their martini and feast on hummus. If we could take this behavior and apply it to every day life, this world might be a little more pleasant to walk through every day.
Chad Brown is a straight male living in Richmond. He enjoys bourbon on the rocks and appreciates a firm ass. Male or female.
Staff Reports WASHINGTON — The District of Columbia is expected to pass legislation that would make it easier for transgender people to obtain new birth certificates reflecting their change in gender identity. The D.C. Council’s Judiciary Committee voted this week to ease restrictions on gender identity changes, approving a proposal that would require only a certified statement from a medical [...]June 7, 2013
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