I’m a 21-year-old hetero two weeks from finishing my tour in Afghanistan, and I have a question about strip clubs. I live in Saint Louis and enjoy the pleasures of East Saint Louis as often as I can. One of the first things I’m going to do when I get home is get drunk and blow a bunch of money at one of the fine strip clubs there. I have no problem with a hot stripper sucking money from my wallet, but what do I do about strippers who aren’t my type? If a less-than-attractive-to-me stripper gets on my lap, what’s the best way to get rid of her without her making all the other girls think I’m an asshole? –Soldier Coming Home
Best of Chicago voting is live now. Vote for your favorites »
(1) “I’m sorry, but I’m waiting for another girl.” (“This doesn’t have to be true,” says Bambi, “but it’s a nice way to say no and gives you the air of being someone else’s customer.”) (2) “I’m sorry, but I prefer blonds/brunettes/redheads.” (“Again, it doesn’t have to be true, but it’s a nice white lie.”) (3) “I just got back from a dance. I’ll find you when I’m ready for another.” (4) “I’d be happy to buy you a drink, but I’m not interested in dances right now.” (“Most strippers will politely decline the drink,” Bambi says.)
(1) Don’t insult a girl, for example, by asking, “When do the pretty strippers get here?” (“Girls will avoid you if you are mean.”) (2) Don’t tell a girl to come back in five minutes when you don’t mean it. (3) Don’t tell a girl that you’d rather take her out to dinner than buy a dance. (“Dinner is not going to pay our rent or feed our kids. Remember, we’re at work.”) (4) Don’t shake your head no before she even gets “Do you wanna . . .” out of her mouth. (“Let her finish her sentence. It’s two milliseconds out of your life, and it makes the rejection seem less harsh.”) (5) And finally, whatever you do, don’t say “I’m gay.” (“This response is so stupid I won’t even bother to explain why. If you can’t figure it out, please do everyone a favor and stay out of strip clubs.”)
I do, however, know two women who have managed to explore anonymous sex while greatly reducing their odds of fucking nutcases. A pair of twentysomething girls–let’s call them Barbara and Jenna–cornered me at a party and told me they were jealous that I, as a gay man, could safely have anonymous sex. I explained to them that I, as a gay man, felt that anonymous sex was vastly overrated. Then I explained how they, as straight girls, could explore anonymous sex relatively safely. Take out a personal ad, I told ’em, and meet any potential anonymous sex partners in public. Interview them at length, carefully screen out the nuts, and then make a date. How could the sex be anonymous after all that? Because Barbara vetted Jenna’s anonymous sex partners and vice versa, LEWD. Neither girl met the guy she fucked anonymously until the proverbial–and hotly anticipated–knock at the door.
