Ok, so it’s a Monday, my traditional Strip Club day (yea, I know that’s not supposedly the best day, but it’s the day I go to clubs) and I’ve got two nickels in my pocket so I figure I’m ready to head out. I had heard good things about the Strip Joint, and was going to check that place out.
Since I knew my destination was full nude, I wanted to fill up the tank a bit before I got there. On the way is a bar called the “Back Door”. Now, if I was in NOHO, I would have avoided that place like the plague, but I figured in Pomona it would be OK. Turns out it was a great choice. The bartender is generous with the pours, and the place was pretty empty, which was exactly what I had hoped for.
So after a few drinks, I travel the last two blocks to get to my destination. Turns out the Strip Joint is closed on Mondays and Tuesdays. I give Zbone credit; he has that information on the website, but I didn’t even think to look to see what days the club is open. So now I’ve got a dilemma. I’m sort of disappointed because my first choice is unavailable, but would still like to go to a club. So, I decide what the heck, and head over to Babydolls.
Whipping out my Z-VIP card, I get into the place for $11, which covers my drinks. I work my way over to an empty table and start to get the lay of the land. To me, Babydolls seems dark even by strip club standards. I was about 10 feet from the stage and found it difficult to focus on the dancer on stage. They’ve got porno’s playing on the two TV’s around the stage, but since they use like 13” TV’s, you can’t really see those either. So all in all, it was a visually disappointing experience.
But wait, it got worse. First off were my fellow patrons. Dirty Old Men, and I don’t mean that in a saxbeat way. I know, what the fuck was I thinking I would find on a Monday night in Pomona. But it was still depressing. The dancers were a fairly average group, although I do admit that one of the dancers was the largest woman I had ever seen in the profession (more on that later), but all in all a reasonable group. In fact, the one dancer was just finishing up her second set, and I saw the next dancer waiting in the wings, and she was pretty much a knock out. She appeared to physically be exactly how I would describe my perfect dancer, so I thought for a minute my night might be shaping up.
Apparently, the other patrons seemed to find her equally as appealing, because the tables emptied out and the stage was filled. When her first song started, she got on stage, and….
Walked. Listlessly. I couldn’t tell for sure but I’m reasonably certain she was chewing gum. I’m sorry, bitch, but you are not all that and a bag of chips that you think all you have to do is breath and that will separate me from my hard earned money. Really! Miss February moves more when I turn the page then you did, and I get her and dozens of other women (all hotter then you) for about $2.50! Put that in perspective.
I left before her top came off. I’m sure they were spectacular, but that dance, once and for all, cemented in my mind that personally, no amount of physical beauty can overcome an obvious lack of interest and enthusiasm. Try as I may, I cannot separate the body from the person it’s attached to.
Look at any good nude photography. I’m not even talking art, I’m talking about Playboy, etcetera (spelled in full because as some people know I can’t abbreviate for shit). You can tell that either the models are interested in it and enjoying the experience, or have figured out how to feign enthusiasm for 1/500th of a second. Either way, you get an emotion along with the physical beauty, and for me it takes both to get my attention.
(BTW, the review ended about 2 paragraphs ago, and we’re well into my philosophical musings now).
So I’m on the road, heading home (which is about a 45 minute drive, so I’ve got plenty of time to think), and I’ve got all these different ideas swirling around in my mind. Why would a beautiful woman not act in a way to maximize her tips? While I had been sitting there, two dancers had approached me with the “Would you like to buy a dance?” statement. Why don’t more dancers improve on their customer skills? Why? Why? WHY???
Well, I’ve come to a conclusion of sorts. Obviously, I’m not their target market. Sure, I tip well, and have been known to get a dance or two when the muse strikes, but I am not representative of their average customer.
I think back to the other people in the club, and other audiences that I can remember, and try to see who is there. Let’s try to break them down into some groups that I can deal with, and see what their motivation is.
Dirty Old Men. These are guys who are just tickled to see young (read; under 50) women naked. Lump into this group harangued husbands, sexually repressed individuals, and probably anybody under 19. These folks just don’t care about much other then nipples and clits. If the lighting were poor enough (and Babydolls qualifies), you could probably put a RealDoll (www.realdoll.com) on stage with motorized roller skates and they would be just as happy. The visual is all they need; heck, their eyes probably never get much above chest level anyways. If you enjoy jacking off to a playboy, then you too may be in this group.
Regular Ole’ Joe. We sometimes need to remember that it is not at all the norm in our society to regularly hang out at a strip club. For the vast majority of guys, a trip to the tittie bar is an occasion. Probably a bachelor party, or a divorce party, or a special night out with the boys. For these folks, the excitement of a trip starts probably hours before they get to the club. They all plan for it, lie to their wives/girlfriends as necessary, chat it up with the boys, and then head out with an intent of purpose. By the time they pass the curtained entrance, they are pre-sensitized to the view that awaits them. I would imagine that it is these customers who are most accessible by the “Would you like a dance?” proposition. The words hell yes probably are already on the tip of their tongue just needing an opportunity to get out. While these guys will most likely be more discriminating as to the “quality” of dancers; again, they are pre-disposed to enjoy that which is provided to them.
Club Regulars. Guys who go to the same club, at the same time, routinely. They are pretty much like any regulars at any bar. They enjoy the atmosphere, probably the other patrons and the bartender as well. They may have current favorites, but they realize that they will outlast any of the women who dance there. The dancers are probably just an addition to the experience they go there for. Unless the quality of the dancers reaches the Mesozoic period, they will most likely continue to return with more regularity then swallows to Capistrano.
Us. The few, the elite, the nit picking Zbone snobs. Yes, for the most part, we are snobs. We get to a club and check the born-on dating sticker on the urinal cakes to quantify bathroom quality. We carry tape measures and scales to calculate percentage body fat in dancers. Don’t even get me started on stopwatches. We spend time typing to others justifying our trips to clubs; delving into the fantasy aspects, concerning ourselves with club politics; certain that if the clubs would just listen to us that they would all become much better and more profitable.
But then again, are we any different then any other “specialists” or “experts”. I’m sure that Lance Armstrong would go into great depth about how chain oil viscosity can shave 1.7 seconds off of a 125 mile bike trip. Modern swimsuits spend more time in the wind tunnel then they do in the pool. Graphic artists working on a big screen animated feature will spend weeks perfecting how milk drops interact with a glass, all for 5 seconds of film.
The problem, however, is that unlike the aforementioned experts/pursuits, we do not have our own rarified arena within which to perfect our craft. Imagine Lance’s consternation if you take away his $10k wheels, give him a huffy and point him towards the streets of Santa Monica. While that is an equation that works well for the vast majority of people, he would feel quite hindered. Sure, he’d probably keep doing it because of his love of the sport, and would probably still find enjoyment from it, but most likely he would grumble on occasion about how much better it could be.
Now here we are, trying to get the local clubs to conform to our admittedly higher standards. It’s like we’re the professional swimmer trying to get our local YMCA to heat their pool to exactly 86.3 degrees, using only Icelandic glacier runoff. Their response would be that they are not equipped or designed for that. They are here for Joe Average. And, basically, that’s what strip clubs are there for.
Sure, you could argue that the things we want in a club are things that everyone would benefit from. You could say that we are the “big spenders”, and that by catering to our needs that clubs could raise their bottom line. But the fact of the matter is that it would take such a high percentage of us to frequent the same establishment that it’s unlikely that anyone would be willing to make the changes that we are looking for.
I mean, we generally want the best looking girls, the best-equipped club, an excellent management staff, full length songs, etcetera. Sure, we (as a group) are willing to pay for such excellence, but most of the patrons would balk at the extra cost. Many would just go to other places with more reasonable rates, because their meager needs are being satisfied.
So I figure we just need to convince one club to become the premier club in LA. I would imagine that with the spending power demonstrated on this board, it should be no problem to show how such a venture could be quite profitable. If any club were interested in such a thing, I could envision a specific board area where ideas are discussed, with us throwing out what we would want and the owner/management replying with what that would cost or how that would be feasible. Heck, the place wouldn’t even have to open before it was all hashed out on paper 
Ok, that’s probably a far-fetched concept. But what the heck; since we deal in fantasy so often, it doesn’t seem like a problem to take it to it’s logical conclusion.
Oh, back to the “big girl” conversation. I’ve seen larger framed women dancing at clubs before, and quite honestly, if she’s not “overflowing”, and can move and smile and perform, then I’m quite happy to watch. I like naked women. And I like a variety of sizes, shapes and appearances. Maybe it’s because I don’t go to clubs as often as some of my peers here that I’ve not built up a jaded vision of how a dancer should look. Some imperfectly proportioned women pull it off, while some drop dead gorgeous women leave me turned off. Despite all the conversations we’ve had on this board about weight, I have to believe that the only measurement that counts is the one in your mind (and possibly, between your legs.)
Eric |
