I'm on a mission to be more approachable. The rare, 20-second conversations at parties are really getting disheartening, especially when they end with, "You're blocking the keg."
So to break the ice, I dove in headfirst: live adult entertainment. Clothing is always awkward for me, so perhaps by talking to people not wearing any, I'll gain some perspective.
Also, naked women!
The venue's interior had a more practical design than I predicted. I was expecting a big spectacle with strobe lights and a bubble machine, but instead I saw simpler transaction: sexy women dance while men stare at them.
I suppose that makes sense. Maybe I should've pulled the leash on my sexual fantasies when they started involving Broadway musical numbers.
I found myself focusing more on my hot wings than the dancers. At one point, I looked over and saw that one of them had slipped into a seat next to me, which had been mysteriously vacated. She noticed the chicken graveyard.
"Do you like to eat meat?" she asked provocatively, staring me directly in the eyes. Subtlety, it seems, doesn't make money.
"Yes," I responded. Sexy, I know.
Eventually she revealed her intentions - a lap dance, paid for by my friends - and she led me to a curtained booth in the back.
While waiting for her to prepare, I read signs on the walls of the booth warning against having an orgasm. I found this interesting for two reasons: One, I found something in common between a strip club and a church; and two, I had no idea men had any control over that sort of thing, especially with topless erotic dancers grinding on their crotches.
The lap dance was fun, but quiet. If there was a conversation, no words were involved - only a few developments down south. You're probably supposed to just enjoy it and forget that the dancer is a human being, but a big part of me wanted to know who was really "behind the G-string."
My mind raced with: "Do you feel weird that guys just stare at you?" and "I bet you find sex pretty boring, huh?" But then, five minutes were up. She said she had to get back. I blinked and said thanks.
No orgasm, thank God.
I'm not sure if I'm more approachable now, post-lap dance. I know my friends had to pay someone to approach me. But hey, if I can handle a stripper, party talks should be easy, right?
