Breaking the End off the Tip

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The Strip Club.

Feminists hate them because they are the last bastion of sexist exploitation. Mothers hate them because they corrupt children. Wives hate them because the women there upstage them in youth and physical perfection. Girlfriends hate them because strippers are so fuckable. Strippers hate them because they see themselves as being treated like pieces of lifeless, soul less meat. Let’s just say that EVERY woman has a gripe about strip clubs, except the very few that don’t.


Men love strip clubs. I don’t care what they say. Unless they work there. You can get tired of the meat market mentality, and full nudity clubs are fucking hard to find. In New York, I remember when I was younger, when they did have full nudity clubs, they didn’t serve any alcohol. Not even a bottle of beer. All you could order to drink was fruit juice and soda. Not much of a trade if you just wanted to see a little snatch. But if you are in an average topless, lap-dancing strip club you will get tired of seeing tits bobbing after a period of time. If you work there, a tolerance will build in you faster and more deeply than you can imagine.


But if you don’t work there, and you go there occa- sionally, they are great fun. Yeah. Fun. You can cheat on your significant other, without really cheating. You are skirting the thin like between watching a woman walk by in the street and hiring a prostitute to give you a blow job in a back alley or the front seat of your car. For some men, any of the above will cause a sense of regret and betrayal of their lady. Others don’t give a damn. When you go to a strip club, there seems to be an acceptability of the fact that you’re going to enjoy yourself with the opposite sex. And the truth of the matter is that you are.


You get to see another woman half dressed, let her body touch yours in a semi-intimate way, and have control over the entire exchange for a buck to a bunch of bucks. You are in control and you get to play Hugh Hefner in walking around and picking the woman of your choice. Now for a few market realities about strip clubs, just like casinos that I spoke about earlier. Strip clubs only exist to SEPARATE YOU FROM YOUR MONEY. They are not there to get you off. All you guys, if you don’t know what ‘get you off’ means, it means putting a load of your cum anywhere on another woman. I’m not saying in your fucking drawers. You might get off that way, but any other way is remote.



You go to a strip club to hang out with your friends, drink their shitty alcoholic beverages until you’re either broke or staggering drunk, and fuck around with strange women who are buzzing around you, not because you are attractive or rich, but because they are trying to support a cocaine habit, seven children, or tuition. They have their own issues and you have yours. You are there to whoop it up with a bud of yours who’s about to get married at the end of the week. You’re not interested in falling in love with these women taking their tops off and rubbing their asses against your crotch.


And if you think all the attention that they are showing you is because they like you, you need to have your head soaked. In fact, if you’re there for any reason other than to have a nice hard ass rub against your hard on while you drink your favorite watered down drink and talking the worst shit, you are a sorry assed fuck. These women will give you the impression that they are dearly in love with you, and will meet you at the end of the night, at closing, and then while you’re standing outside she’ll emerge with the bouncer, jump in a limo and drive off.


Bullshit Hobobob! No, it really happens, because it has happened to me when I was a young pup, going to strip clubs for the first time. And like any rookie, I was under the impression that someone hot loved me at first sight. And while I waited out in the rain for her, all I got was her tail lights burning red in my face. After that, I learned my lesson.



Spend only as much money as you want to. Negotiate on price. Drink to your heart’s content, and have fun. If you want anything more, I would suggest that you are tired of your significant other and you should go out back and find a twenty dollar prostitute and get a blow job. Yes, there are sad, lonely men in the world that would like the company of women, and they erroneously chose strippers to frequent, as if they see anything in them.


Strippers HATE the men that they strip for and rub their asses and faces against their tube steaks. The women think of you as only walking ATMs, that they have to coax to get cold hard cash from. If they register that you are a hard ball player, who’s only there to get drunk, get a few lap dances and is not entertaining the idea of a night in the champagne room, they’ll blow you off quickly for some rube that they can snag. Oh! You don’t know what the Champagne room is? Well, its a darker, smaller room in the club, where you get your own private couch and an especially more intimate lap dance. The limits depend on the chick you’re with.


In some cases, the worst case, you will pay twenty dollars and up for the SAME EXACT LAPDANCE that you were getting outside. This is what I call a lazy bitch ripoff. If this happens to you, get up before she finishes and go out to your buds. When she shows her face outside again, sit next to one of your buds, or even another dude that you don’t know, and point her out with an outstretched hand so that she can see you. She’ll get the message that you are fucking up her chances for another rube for the night.


In most cases, you get a little special treatment, from touching tits, sucking nipples, fondling pussy or even finger fucking her. But Caveat Emptor, or buyer beware, depending on the severity of the activity, you will pay through the nose for it if you are not careful. NEGOTIATE. Remember, she doesn’t like your ass to begin with, and if she is giving you full access to her goodies, then she is 1) tired and wants to go home soon with money, 2) have a heavy bill to pay this week and is upping the ante to get lots of cold, hard cash , 3) a sexaholic, which is unlikely, 4) or sees you as a rookie and wants to take you for all you’re worth.


So negotiate. Cut her number in half. If she balks, raise it up a fiver. If she still balks, take a hike. Many times they won’t even take you to the room unless you agree on a price, so you have complete control, and this is what they don’t understand. YOU HAVE THE CONTROL. They may have the pussy, but you have the cash. And if they look around the room, there is probably three score of them walking about looking to cut deals and get money for the night. She is not the only game in town. If she plays take it or leave it, fuck her.


Trust me, she’ll be watching you for the rest of the night to see if you go to the Champagne room with another stripper. Then she’ll think that she’s charging too much for too little. Remember this is a business transaction. This is not love. She sees you as a sucker, you see her as a fool. So there. Since there is a rapport between the two of you, have at it and have fun. That’s really what you are there for.



This is why it is pointless for women to have a problem with the strip club. There is nothing going on there.... for the most part...but good, clean fun. I’m not saying that some of these women in the club aren’t straight up prostitutes that will walk you into the Men’s Room and give you a HEADER over the commode for a twenty. OR go with you to a hotel for an hour if you use a condom. I’m not saying that. I’m saying for the most part, 9 times out of 10, that’s it’s harmless, good clean fun. It’s like an adult circus for men.


So chill out ladies on both sides of the coin. You women out there that are on the outside looking in, relax. There is very little chance of your man leaving you for a stripper. And you on the inside looking out, who really gives a fuck what a stripper is thinking.


And guys, go have fun. Leave your heart at home and your credit cards. Take a stack of ones from the nearby bank and make it rain dollars on these women.

Next. I’ll talk about the need for prostitution....or maybe not.

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