It is an absolute cliché but this past Saturday night I think I may have lost my heart (and a healthy amount of cash) to a limber Adonis of stripper called “S” *sigh*
My girls and I had been planning this outing to one of Jozi’s reputable male stripper establishments for weeks. It turns out that getting a table dance has been inadvertently added to the “adult rites of passage” list (read: we were a small minority of individuals who hadn’t ever been to a strip-club before). Did we know what we were fully getting ourselves into? Absolutely not, but you only live once right?
Once our hysterical giggling had subsided and we had plied ourselves with copious amounts of alcohol we then proceeded to have an awesome, awesome time. Sadly enough pictures were taken to ensure that i will never, ever have a successful political future...should i ever feel that way inclined.
Here are a few things I observed from our raucous night out:
1. Personality: Strippers must be fit, but more importantly they must have some personality and be engaging. There’s nothing worse than a shy stripper or one who hasn’t figured out what his stripper alter-ego is (we had one, shame).
2. Ink, ink, baby: Body art of some sort comes with the turf...and it’s kinda hot...very hot.
3. Too much of a good thing is...: It must be both a blessing and a curse to be a Mandingo. The resident Mandingo was very generously “endowed”, but sadly his equipment did more to scare us ladies, than entice us.
4. Don’t judge a stripper by his colour: On arriving and finding out that all the strippers were Caucasian, I will admit I was a bit disappointed a smidgen. After all, as a resident of The Rainbow Nation I would expect a wider variety of flavours, if you get my drift. By the end of the night, I had become a believer...those fellas knew what they were doing.
5. Don’t touch me on my studio: I thought we wouldn’t be allowed to make any sort of body contact, however the fellas encouraged us to roam our hands over their washboard stomachs, broad shoulders and even a butt cheek, now and again. However, certain *ahem* bits were out of bounds (I thought I should just clarify that). One gorgeous specimen did tell us a hilarious story of how a bouncer had to save him from the yanking habits of an aggressive client, she apparently really liked what she saw O_o
6. Rude Boy: I didn’t realise we would see so much....seriously I didn’t.
7. Hide 'n Seek: According to our mixed-race waiter there is no such thing as a male Indian stripper. Not sure how far true that is?
All in all, it was a real eye-opener of a night. I definitely believe that male strippers have a better deal than their female counterparts. I can’t help but assume a female stripper is in that line of business as some sort of last resort, whilst men definitely seem to have some sort of choice.
I forgot to ask The Boys how they had ended up in this line of business, however, I did find out that one was a part-time graphic designer and that the resident Mandingo had realised his *ahem* talents at the tender age of 10 years old.
I may have to pay a second visit, for purely journalistic purposes to get some more answers to my mounting questions ;-)
Holla in the comments!
In other news:
The second first: On our way back from the club my mate and I got pulled over by the cops. They were on the search for drunken drivers (read: they were trying to make some spare change). Never have I heard a person waffle around the obvious, this female cop spoke in circles...cleverly her intentions where implied rather than forthright, that way she could always deny eliciting a bribe from us.
Back in Zim I have always successfully managed to talk myself not only out of traffic fines but many a bribe. The difference back home is that i usually encounter male cops, who are easier to get around. Sadly, on that early Sunday morning our nemesis was a female member of the South African Police whom left us R100 poorer.
How time flies! Here’s hoping you make the most of the last week of January 2011, chickens!