Stripper’s Night Out

Whatever made gay bars and strip clubs different is beyond me. Just because people go to gay bars doesn’t necessarily mean they are gay. When women go to strip clubs doesn’t necessarily mean that they are going to be liking women any time soon. Same thing when our friend JV went with me and Mitz to this popular joint in Mandaue doesn’t mean he is going to be liking men soon.

Oh yes, we gots to goes theres, babe. A gay guy ushered us to our table and apologetically said that everything else was full except for the front row tables. What is he sorry for??! Mitz was elbowing me about the possibility of an embarrassing encounter on seeing a likely friend inside when the show already started and we both shut up. We’ll stay here, we’ll stay here!

All embarrassment at being seated at the front row seats were thrown out of the door the moment the first guy did his series of backflips and hip acrobats. Such display! Such act! Displaying their tools of the trade like its vermouth to the drunkard – it really needs so much effort and resolve to not whip out your checkbook at the first sight of it. I had to admit on fanning myself senseless and thinking of the nearest ATM I saw while on the way here.

But hey – not all of them made us lick our lips all the time. One gay guy’s shrine isn’t everyone’s Patrick Dempsey. They could be all the Ice Anderson or the Ace Smith’s – or whatever screen name they use that time – in the world and still they wouldn’t appeal to me. Um, because of not exfoliating their asses? Kfine. Some could really make you go, NEXT! Some could even make you wish they have a suggestion box that you could make good use of. Ugh, those BOOTS, too! Which ukay ukay did they buy those from?! Cowboy boots, mini shorts, and a wifebeater is their standard uniform. And oh, that bedhead hair and maniac face is also required.

Like dutt. I do not know about this being a regular thing but indulging in men too much seems like we will still be high from the sexual stratosphere from last weekend’s until – um, 2009.

OA? Yeah, true.

I’ve already gone past my men indulgence quota for 2008. No? Okay.

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