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Finally went to the strip club with the boyfriend. While it wasn't the bacchanal I expected, it was hardly as lackluster as he described it, either. The fun started with the waitress, who bent over a lot farther than was necessary to hear our drink order. Boyfriend was shocked (shocked!) and assured me that last time "the waitress was much more demurely dressed." (Apparently, he was there on Amish Nite!)
We stayed for one stripper. For all she had on, it took the silly bitch a hell of a long time to get naked. I studied every rivet on the brewing machine twice and she was still dancing! It wasn't prudery on my part, but boredom and occasionally dizziness. The stage was fairly small, so all she could do was take four steps and twirl. Back four steps, twirl. Lick pole. Twirl. Repeat. The funny part was that not too many guys were spontaneously hooting. Either the stripper or the DJ had to prompt them. Heh.
Bottom line: I feel a little better. There was a definite hands-off vibe. I didn't like it in the least, but what offended me the most was the fact that one of the songs she used is one I really like. Now it's ruined! Ruined!! (If she had started dancing to the Sound of Music, I would have had to kill myself.) In a perfect world, boyfriend wouldn't go again. But in a near-perfect world, boyfriend will go very, very occasionally and I won't know a thing about it.
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