Not that I’ve never been to a strip club. Nor have I rarely experienced hanging out with a lesbian. But I have to admit, merging the two events is highly recommended. As Ferris Bueller would say, “It is so choice. ” Seeing as DC is chock full of lesbians and a pretty lengthy list of strip clubs, I would hope that all of you could go out and enjoy yourselves as much as I did.
Let me back up and explain the circumstances a little more. One of my closest friends in DC is a lesbian, and her week-long birthday celebration has just been winding down. We had a boisterous dinner at Ella’s, home of the best sangria I’ve had in town, and I polished off about two carafes by myself. From there we headed up to northern Dupont and started partying at a lesbian bar. Much as the oxymoronic phrase indicates, it became more difficult than most of us predicted, as the crowd was eclectic to say the least. After throwing back a few shots and taking some laps around the bar, my lovable lesbian and I got a little bored. Then came her stroke of genius – “You wanna go see some strippers?” How could I say no? We told the rest of the party we’d be right back and walked downstairs to Royal Palace, the place where strippers go to die.
We meandered on to the down stairs club, got our ID’s checked, and ordered two Miller Lite’s for our table (at $7.50 a piece, we weren’t about to ask about any other drinks). Then came the judging. There were a lot of creepy old men staring into nether regions, and the lucite platforms inspired an entire conversation. Since we’re nerds and went to nerdy schools and live in DC being nerds, we had a philosophical discussion on empowerment versus sexism. Did the women stripping feel like they owned the sexual objectification of their bodies in a post women’s lib world? Or was I right when I postured that there was no empowerment in owning objectification, that using their bodies for money simply breeds misogyny in the work place? Eventually we settled down and just soaked in the sleaze of our absolutely disgusting surroundings. There were much better times to philosophize on the lives of strippers. In that moment, on the birthday of my favorite lesbian, we just needed to enjoy the shady nudity.