Ah, the strip club. Most red-blooded American males have dropped a paycheck or two in a titty bar. Nothing to be ashamed of.

The thing that confounds me though, is that at some point along the way, stripping stopped being about a simple exchange of money for nudity and turned into some sort of competition about who’s getting over on whom. There seemed to be some sort of an attempt at a feminist reappropriation of stripping, and it took a lot of the fun out of the whole thing. HBO or whoever would interview these girls and portray them as the ones in charge of the whole situation, as if the strip clubs were set up solely as a way for smart, savvy young women to take money from stupid, desperate and horny men.

Well, anyone who’s ever been inside a real strip club knows that there’s nothing feminist about it. No matter what these girls tell themselves to help them sleep at night, what goes on there is almost entirely objectification. But that’s not necessarily a bad thing. I’m sure there are plenty of people who would disagree with me on that score, but honestly, I don’t see the problem. The thing about strip clubs is that everyone there is getting exactly what they want and exactly what they expect. And unless someone involved in the transaction is incredibly naive, there’s no confusion about where it all stops.

Men go to these places to have young women grind on their laps and pretend to find them attractive. If the girl really thinks that I really think I can get her to go home with me and that’s why I keep giving her money, well… she’s wrong. The money is about keeping the fantasy going. She can pretend she’s in control all she wants, but she’s not. Of course, that doesn’t mean I’m in control, either. It’s the money that’s in control, and it’s controlling both of us. When I run out, the fantasy ends and it’s as simple as that. If she’s good at her job, she’ll keep it going till I’m dry. If she’s not, I move on to the next one.

That reminds me. Never go to an ATM at a strip club. Treat it like a casino. Go in there with all the cash you intend on spending and leave it all there. Once you break the seal on the ATM, it’s all over for you, my friend. You WILL regret it the next day.

Anyway, I don’t think most guys go to strip clubs expecting to get laid, or even to get a handjob in the champagne room. Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure those guys exist, but I’ve never met one, so they can’t be too common.

The thing is, it doesn’t have to be that way. It’s a simple exchange of money for services, and there’s no need for anyone to try and feel superior about it. I mean, seriously, how superior can anyone really feel in a fucking strip club? So, I propose an unspoken agreement between strippers and those who visit them. Let’s admit that we’re all equals. The girls want our money, and we’re willing to give it to them if they give us what we want in return. And for the dudes who think they can rescue these girls or turn them into your girlfriends by buying them cars or paying their rent…you’re idiots. And for the girls taking advantage of those guys…you should be ashamed of yourselves, screwing over the mentally challenged like that.

And by the way, as much as I love the strip clubs, these places are sleazy as all hell. Even if you can afford them, don’t go to them that often. A handful of times a year is plenty. If all the strippers know you by name, you should really reevaluate what you’re doing with your life.