Here’s Another Good Reason for Wives Not to Go to Bed in Flannels and Sweatpants

StripperWell, it’s been nice chatting with y’all, but I’ve got to skedaddle on over to Williston, North Dakota. Not sure if there’s a huge demand for fuller-figured black chicks over there, but I’m gonna go on ahead and try my luck, seeing as how strippers are making upwards of $2,000 a day. Two grand. A day. (Oh, and just kidding, mom.)
I’ve never heard of Williston. Don’t know much about it except apparently fellas go there in droves to make money in the booming oil industry and have generated a high demand for female eye candy at the town’s two gentlemen’s clubs. That in turn means legions of buxom ladies are grabbing their six-inch stilettos and skimpy stage costumes to (eh-hem) high-tail it toward the sweet sound of crisp bills being slid betwixt elastic straps.

Guess wives and girlfriends have their marching orders to step their games up to compete with Candy, Roxanne, and crew.


I’m not a believer in strip clubs, for men or women. I’ve only had one run-in with a man in a thong and it was a terrible, horrifying experience. My disinterest in oogling over his gyrations and pelvic thrusts only fueled his interest in picking on me. The more I tried to get away from him, the more he singled me out. There were ladies with dollar bills a-blazin’, ready to all but fund his early retirement in one show, but he was having a good ol’ time feeding off of my embarrassment.

Inasmuch as I don’t appreciate the fine art of male stripper seduction, I’ve mentioned before that I’ve also asked my man to scratch all nudie bars and shaker joints off his list of hangout spots, as well. He didn’t mind — it was a small compromise to make in exchange for the adventure that is Janelle, I suppose — but if he balked, we would’ve had to call it quits a long time ago.

I hate the concept of strip clubs. Among other things — the most obvious being the way they reduce women to pieces of jiggling flesh rather than individuals with real working brains — they pit fantasy against reality. That can be really hard for some guys to differentiate, particularly our more dimwitted male friends who aren’t the sharpest tacks in the box and tend to use the brains below their belts before the ones above their shoulders even get warmed up. The sexuality sold there makes regular ol’ women unable to contort themselves into Romanian gymnast-like positions seem downright dull. But those are the gals who make up the real world. Sorry for ya fellas.

Not all guys who go to strip clubs are fools. No sirree. But there are just enough of them out there willing to squander their hard earned cash on a few moments of a half-naked woman’s attention. I’d certainly hope that the bulk of these dudes over in Williston are in fact single. Because somebody sure would have a lot of explaining to do after he traveled halfway across the country to capitalize on the big-money oil industry only to come home with a whole lot less because he’s been contributing to Apollonia’s $2,000 a night take-home pay.
Does your man frequent gentlemen’s clubs? Like it? Hate it? Don’t give a hoot about it?

Image via brokeassstuart/Flickr

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