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Because What Happens in Catskill...

Is apparently rebroadcast all over the world. So I was going to bring my mother's digital camera last night, and then I thought "You know the less evidence of this there is the better." Of course then I commence to come here and tell you all about it, but at least there are no online photos circulating (although I am in possession of one very incriminating polaroid).

Now it would seem to me that going to an evening of hot nearly naked oiled up men would have to be even more exciting than evening out drinking with a divorcee and a gay man. (Incidentally this is my first time seeing a male stripper.) But of course, seems and is are two completely different things. I had pretty much embraced that this was going to be a kind of "no boundaries" kind of night. I was going to be out with WotY and the Fargo girls. WotY wanted to know what I would be wearing in advance.

Bunni:Oh you know, something appropriately slutty.

WotY: I don't have anything slutty.

Bunni: Oh I always have something sleazy I can throw on. How sad is that up from the city for five days and I have appropriate ho wear for a male stripper evening?

I throw on a lacy slip over my Italian lace bra and my jeans. Apply eye make up the way the drag queens taught me way back when and head over to WotY's house. She is wearing a white suit with a brown lacy top. Kind of imagine what Mark Twain would have worn if he was an attractive business woman and you have the idea. The Fargo hookers pick us up, they are at least in slut wear, but then that's their general look.

On the way over we talk about men and their bodies. I tell the Fargo hookers about my plan to start licensing men in order to appear topless in public. If you want to take your shirt off, you have to apply to a board of gay men and straight women. You must get 8o % approval in order to receive the license, which must be clearly visible at all times (perhaps on a leather thong around the neck or attached to the belt). The license must be renewed every year. The blonde Fargo hooker remarked, "Yeah you must get some real winners in New York since you are the host of the trail mix of the world there."

I thought that this was a brilliant statement.

The audience at this event was worth the price admission on its own. We sat near the back by the wall, which should have indicated to me the relative uncomfortableness of my companions, but there didn't seem to be a lot of empty seats. Behind us sat three sixteen year old girls with those underage bracelets. They were all dressed up in jeans and spiky heels and almost perfect make up. Near the front was a bachelorette party-she was young, 22, no make up, jeans and a t-shirt-but her whole party was giddy drunken-not bad drunken but the we want to have a good time tipsiness. They arrived in a white stretch limo. On the side was a forty year old woman having her birthday who was already sloshingly drunk on cuervo shots wearing a teal shirt that should never have been worn by any human being. There were the typical upstate crowd, women with bad teeth, heavy, with bangs from 1983, wearing some floral dress purchased at Walmart that should have been turned into tea towels. But there were some young good looking women. Women in their thirties, well coiffed, wearing nice outfits, tastefully made up, and waiting patiently for naked men.

Naked

"Essentially the film board decided that a naked man is pornographic, but not entertaining, which I thought was interesting because naked women have been considered entertainment for naked men for hundreds of years." -Bill Hicks

For me nudity has never been really sexual. This is partially due to my medical background. When you have been naked in front of as many doctors and nurses and technicians and assistants, when you have been naked under flourescent lights, when you have been naked in ORs and ERs and examination rooms, it ceases to be sexual. On many levels for me it's just the most comfortable. I still prefer to sleep naked most of the time. When I do go to sleep in a t-shirt or pjs, I usually throw them off half way through the night. So the taboo of nudity has never really impacted on me, and when people are uncomfortable about it in my presence I have trouble understanding what exactly the trouble is. It's natural for crickey sake. Not that I am about to walk naked in front of my class, but, well, I just don't see what the big deal is about seeing a few men dance almost naked.

But perhaps this is a flaw in my personality, not to see the massive problem with male nudity.

The Hollywood Centerfolds were scheduled to perform at ten. By eleven they were still not onstage. Not that I am being critical of their technical requirements, but they were hardly putting on the Phantom of the Opera. All they needed were some lights and a few bottles of baby oil. The crowd was beginning to get restless, the tequila drunken birthday girl went to get sick in the parking lot. Her friends told her she better not be hungover for Father's Day.

Finally they came on. Two of the dancers, Gemini and Deisel performed to "Save a horse, ride a cowboy." And then of course the lapdances began while the performances continued onstage.

Bunni, you ask, Bunni oh Bunni, did you get a lapdance?

I hear your cry. I have to ask you, what kind of girl do you take me for that I could be presented with the option of being slathered with oil by the absolute pinnacle of physical human perfection for several minutes for no more than a dollar and actually say no? I mean really. This was a no regrets weekend. I was going all the way.

Gemini made his way through the crowd dancing for various women, he was obviously the favorite even though at five foot eight he was far shorter than the other two featured dancers. (There were really only the three, but occassionally some less attractive men would come ambling out half naked for a g-string full of ones and the crowd, liquored up as they were, were ready to oblige.After looking at the website today I realized these lesser performers must be local strippers -most likely out of Albany-that were contracted just for this show.) I'll be honest with you, considering my body issues, I've always been in the "Oh it doesn't REALLY matter camp."

Uh, yeah, except that I have never, ever in my life seen definition like this up close. You could use this guy to teach a physiology class. Every step brought out this whole dance of ripples through his whole body. I mean it wasn't quite like finally seeing the Sistine Chapel. But it was close. Finally he makes his way up to me upon which point he jumps up on my chair so that his oiled abs are right in my face. He slowly moved down my body. As a joke, before he walked over, I had put a dollar bill down my cleavage. (Another girl had put a folded up dollar bill in her mouth and received a lovely kiss.) He took the bill in his mouth, which I expected. Now it takes a lot to surprise a little Bunni like me, but what happened next had me flat out. Instead of pulling the bill out, he put it farther in so his face was submerged in my breasts. Then he pressed my breasts together and rubbed his face back forth before finally removing the bill. I don't think I stopped laughing the entire time.

The hookers refused his offer of a lap dance, and WotY actually went up to the bar and remained there for the rest of the evening. I was perfectly happy to watch the crowd and the dancers continue to perform to "Bad to the Bone" and other assorted hits. In the bathroom I hear two women talking about if their students knew what they were up to they would die. "Oh are you teachers too?" I asked. They were first grade teachers. We chatted for a while about teaching and then moved onto the dancers, who we liked the best, who we thought had the best moves. I told them about not bringing a camera so there would be no evidence. "yes," said one of the teachers, "I got a polaroid with one of the dancer's. I don't know where I am going to hide it from my husband."

Before I left, Gemini came over and gave me another dance. He kissed me, as he did all the women, and then went over to the next girl with a smile.

In the car afterwards the Fargo hookers wondered if those guys were gay or if they liked their jobs. All I will say is this, during that last dance Gemini took my hands in his and guided them down his body. All the way down. And so yes he really really likes his job. Really. I'm pretty fond of it too, I have to say. And then he put my hands on his ass, which is as close to perfection as I am ever likely to come in this life. Even one of the Fargo hooker's had to admit she kept thinking about his ass. And she never felt it in her hands. I however knew the full force of their greatness.

At the end they gave out business cards and announced they were glad to do "bachelorette parties, birthday parties, divorce parties, and plain ole I just want a naked up man to dance for me parties." I'm thinking I need to have more of these parties.

In the car WotY was saying, "Well there was no way I was going to get all hot and bothered and have some oiled up guy I can't have all rubbing me." Despite what I said, the stripping isn't really all that sexual. I mean, most of the time I was laughing, I was entertained, tickled if you will, but I wasn't turned on by it. The reason why they call it edult entertainment is because it's entertaining. One some level it's just another show, with costumes and music and characters. No more or less involving than say "Tony n' Tina's Wedding."

One of the Fargo hookers wondered if they liked their job. You know there are some people who will do anything to bring down a perfectly harmless good time. When you think about it, it has to be a really awful life. I mean you have to maintain this absolutely perfect physique and tan and let's not even discuss the monthly waxing and buffing bills. You have to worry about aging. And then all this work to schlep up to frickin' Catskill to perform for a handful of women who shove one dollar bills down your g string? At least top level female strippers get twenties and fifties, these guys were working hard just to get a dollar. It makes one wonder how they even make money at all. And of course this type of job is limited. You aren't going to be doing this for the long term. And so what do you do when you retire from male stripperdom? Is there some sort of like service group that helps aid the transition? I'm thinking Deisel isn't a name that is really going to do well in the world of finance.

On the other hand what other job could you get paid, get paid, to put your face in a woman's breasts. Most places they would fire you and press charges. So there is definately the upside. Oh that and the travel. (They have performed in places like Las Vegas and New York City.)

"Besides," WotY commented, "I would never pay for it."

And this is where I got offended.

I'll be honest with you. I've been with some fabulous men in this life. Really and truly. And when I say fabulous I mean that in every sense of the word, physical beauty, sexual prowess, intellectual achievement, morally upstanding. I don't have to pay for a beautiful man to touch me either. But in the normal scope of human interaction, then I have worry about his expectations, and what does he want from me and etc etc and what if I don't want something sexual I just want a five minute dance with no conversation and no effort on my part to entertain? What if for about five minutes I want to feel like Cleopatra and you are my little fan boy here for my entertainment and then to piss off into the night? Hmmmm.... Some one famous once said that you don't pay a hooker to sleep with you, you pay her to leave afterwards. Well these guys allow me, for a very low price, to fulfill that need in a mutual beneficial way without any of the strings attached. What, really in the grand scheme of things, is so bad about that,hmmmm?

So if you ever need some adult male entertainment, ask for Gemini. And tell him Bunni sent you.

Bad Bunni posted at 6/19/2005 05:00:00 PM |

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