As a woman going through some much desired transformation, I am taking my boyfriend to strip club to celebrate his b-day (because I know he likes ’em). I would LOOOOVE to be the girl who doesn’t mind, but the images are stamped into my memories, and my heart hurts.
Please help me accept the human nature that is “men.”
Contrary to what many of our readers might think, you’re taking a very evolved stance and I want to congratulate you for it.
Relationships are about doing things for our partners that make THEM happy, not just doing what feels best for us. Holding the girlfriend’s purse when she’s shopping for perfume? That’s for her. Spending $350 on a meal because we’re hanging out with her wealthy friends? That’s for her, too. Calling her at the end of the night when I just want to go to sleep? That’s for her. It makes her happy, it makes her feel connected, and it keeps our bond strong, and that’s what I’ve got to do to make my relationship work. Believe me, I’m not complaining. I get a LOT out of my partnership and my girlfriend makes all sorts of sacrifices for me. I know it, I appreciate it, and I never fail to express how lucky I am.
You might be thinking, “Yeah, that’s all well and good, Evan. But holding your girlfriend’s bag in Bloomie’s is not a real sacrifice. Juliette is talking about ANOTHER WOMAN RUBBING HERSELF ON HER BOYFRIEND RIGHT IN FRONT OF HER. How could you even compare the two?”
Oh, but I can. For one simple reason:
Neither of the two acts means anything. Now, I could CHOOSE to feel emasculated when I take my girlfriend shopping. I could CHOOSE to feel like a loser when I stay home on girls’ night out. I could CHOOSE to feel like the third wheel when my girlfriend is telling inside jokes to her best friend and I’m standing there like a bump on a log. But I don’t. Because it doesn’t MEAN anything about our relationship.
For the average guy who goes to a strip club once a year for a bachelor party, it’s just a meaningless diversion that combines all of a man’s greatest pleasures: booze, boobs, and his buddies.
And that’s what any woman who is threatened by a stripper has to get. Strip clubs don’t turn us on. They make us giggle.
Now, if you ever went out with some guy who blew his paycheck at Crazy Horse or left you for a woman named Sierra and her six inch heels, feel free to ignore my advice. But for the average guy who goes to a strip club once a year for a bachelor party, it’s just a meaningless diversion that combines all of a man’s greatest pleasures: booze, boobs, and his buddies. We get to gawk and point and laugh and drink and bond with our friends before reality sets in and we go home a few hundred dollars lighter….