E
Epistemes
Guest
I’m a guy. I’m 27. I’m single.
I mention this because I just want to point out that I struggle with temptations concerning sex and sexuality – but I just don’t get strip clubs. I don’t understand why men go to strip clubs.
I’ve been to strip clubs. I used to frequent them, but I stopped when I decided to live in a more Christian manner. Plus, I came to the realization that those poor girls who danced and performed pseudo-sexual acts were really quite unhappy, sad, and alienated. To see a girl dancing, with guys swarming around her, throwing money at her is a pitiful sight, I must admit, but then to sit down and talk to her, to hear about her lonely childhood, and how her boyfriend doesn’t really love her, and how she has a hard time feeding her kids, that’s when you get to know how isolated these girls are.
Am I wrong?
And yet there’s a cult developing here at the office. It’s a cult almost solely devoted to the strip club. The highlight of these married men’s life seems to be going to the local strip club. There hasn’t been a single week in months where I haven’t heard someone saying, “Yeah, boy, they got some good lookin’ meat up at the club now! Let me tell you!”
It seems like such an empty existence to me now, though I must admit that I, at times, feel like I’m missing out on something big given all the ruckus and hooplah which they cause on their return. It’s like I just missed the Cubs winning the World Series, or something.
Even though I’ve been there, and given that I’ve done that, I now can no longer understand why a group of grown men would frequent strip clubs so often.
I mention this because I just want to point out that I struggle with temptations concerning sex and sexuality – but I just don’t get strip clubs. I don’t understand why men go to strip clubs.
I’ve been to strip clubs. I used to frequent them, but I stopped when I decided to live in a more Christian manner. Plus, I came to the realization that those poor girls who danced and performed pseudo-sexual acts were really quite unhappy, sad, and alienated. To see a girl dancing, with guys swarming around her, throwing money at her is a pitiful sight, I must admit, but then to sit down and talk to her, to hear about her lonely childhood, and how her boyfriend doesn’t really love her, and how she has a hard time feeding her kids, that’s when you get to know how isolated these girls are.
Am I wrong?
And yet there’s a cult developing here at the office. It’s a cult almost solely devoted to the strip club. The highlight of these married men’s life seems to be going to the local strip club. There hasn’t been a single week in months where I haven’t heard someone saying, “Yeah, boy, they got some good lookin’ meat up at the club now! Let me tell you!”
It seems like such an empty existence to me now, though I must admit that I, at times, feel like I’m missing out on something big given all the ruckus and hooplah which they cause on their return. It’s like I just missed the Cubs winning the World Series, or something.
Even though I’ve been there, and given that I’ve done that, I now can no longer understand why a group of grown men would frequent strip clubs so often.