I’ve never been a strip club guy.
The idea of paying a woman a considerable amount of money to pretend that she likes me seems so artificial that I can’t bring myself to engage with the fantasy.
Also, I sort of believe that if I’m really wanting to find a girl to sleep with, that I can probably go out and, if I tried, make that happen. It’s just not that hard – there are a ton of lonely people out there. And since I never had a one-night stand that felt good in the morning, I don’t really do that anymore.
So, a strip club today for me holds little excitement. And strippers scare me for some reason – I have some weird fear that they have the capability of hurting me. That somehow they’re damaged, and that I, too, will be infected by their dysfunction. This is not grounded in reality, but around my own prejudice and insecurity.
However, to be brutally honest, the idea of a naked woman is always something welcomed. I suspect that will continue to be true for me.
Back when I was 22 I went home over Fourth of July weekend to Peoria. Aside from Caterpillar and the birthplace of Richard Prior, Peoria also has a strip club that reasonably well–known, named Big Al’s.
What’s really worthy of praise of this establishment is that the women will take off all of their clothes and you can drink liquor. From what I understand this is relatively unique, however I only have the 2010 Fodor’s Guide To Peoria Boobhouses, so I’m not totally up to date.
By the way, I’m quite proud of that word I just created. Did you know Shakespeare created over 1700 words that we use today?
So, since drinking and naked, beautiful women are a nice combination, I decided to walk in. Well, actually I walked from a club that is sort of connected to Big Al’s. You can get to it from inside the club, as to avoid the shame of being seen entering from the street.
It wasn’t even my idea. We were in a group of twelve or so. Whoever was leading us decided to go – not that I offered any resistance.
And there’s this lobby in between the two places, with couches and chairs. I stood in line with my group near the back.
All of sudden…
“D.J.!”
Out of nowhere, a naked woman with a light dusting of body glitter comes bounding over with a great smile.
I did not recognize her.
She throws her arms around me. I take this opportunity to press against her, hold the embrace a few seconds longer than socially acceptable, and kiss her on the cheek. I had to. I’m sure you understand.
Now, who is this wonderful, wonderful woman?
We release our hug and I give her a real thorough visual exam. I scope her hair to toes. When I get back to her face, I come up empty.
“It’s me!”
Me, who? You know what… I don’t care who you are, naked woman. Just don’t leave me. Ever. I need this!
No clue who or how she knows me.
She says her name and I remember.
This girl I developed a massive crush for on the first day of high school. We were in science class, and since I really didn’t know many people all I could do was sit there and stare at everyone. I had graduated public grade school and decided to go to a Catholic high school.
I think she was only at our high school for a few years before transferring somewhere else.
But she was my first high school crush, and since I felt totally inadequate anyway, I didn’t speak to her much, as that was way too frightening.
As I think back to those feelings, I don’t dismiss them as silly or immature. That was love, and I honor it. Now, it’s not same love I experience today, as I tend to fall in love with women who actually love me back. But, there was tremendous satisfaction is seeing my first crush naked, smiling, and excited to see me.
Note: Not that you care, but I did actually get this woman’s permission to write the story. She was thrilled.