What the fuck? I’m not allowed to do awesome shit because I’m over 40? Fuck that.
Shit…I just remember a whole lot of lame bachelor parties at Foxy Lady.
Honestly, I’ve spent a lot of time hanging out with my buddies in Manhattan strip clubs and I don’t see a lot of “losers who can’t get laid”. If you’re an adult man who is so uptight or awkward that you can’t meet a girl, chances are you are too uptight or judgmental to visit a strip club in the first place.
Having some friends in the local industry and speaking for basically Western PA and little bits of Ohio/WV — maybe 20%, maybe less. If its a place with most of the regular dancers being girlfriends/wives of the local biker gangs, maybe a little to a lot higher. YMMV
That isn’t saying they aren’t exploited and injured – just not from the scenario you mention.
I was over 40 when I made my two visits in the last decade to a strip club.
I was bothered by something I didn’t want to talk about with anyone I knew. I wanted to talk about it though. It seemed like a good idea to tell it to a stranger. I figured strippers would amount to cheap shrinks, basically.
So I budgeted $150 or so for the girls, plus drinks. I got cleaned up and put on some decent clothes. All ya gotta do is sit down and have your drink and look around. The place I picked reminded me of a Vegas casino or maybe dance club, only less spectacular. It wasn’t un-spectacular though, it was kind of sleek, the lighting was low and cool, the bartenders were really friendly, everybody seemed to want to talk. They hit you over the head with the girls in a way the casinos or dance clubs never do (or probably can). OTOH there are aggressive hookers in Vegas, and yanno, if I ever want a hooker, trust me, I’ll call YOU, mmmmkay?
So I sat down and had my drink and looked around. Pretty soon one of the hot dancers in her club outfit came over and sat down. I told her about what was bothering me, and kind of inhabited the negative headspace associated with it. She seemed to get it, she didn’t really give me any advice though. She told me a story about herself, she seemed rather ambitious in a business sense. After awhile I had talked to her for a certain amount of time, so I had to buy a lap dance to make it worth her while. She stuck her tits in my face.
Then I was back out in the club with another drink looking around, comparing and contrasting it with Vegas casinos and dance clubs. Pretty soon another hot dancer is coming over in her club clothes. Apparently she has heard about my story, they talked about it in the dressing room or something, she has some questions, I tell her the story, she has a little bit to say about it. After awhile I have talked with her for so long that I have to buy a lap dance to make it worth her while. She sticks her tits in my face, too. I note the plasticity of my brain wrt the problem I am discussing and my attitudes toward it. I think I can feel alternate neural pathways growing in my brain in realtime, something I remember from when I was, like, 12, suddenly getting grammar or something.
The last girl to come over in her club clothes seems sadder than the others. I suspect she has been drinking or maybe is on drugs, but I don’t know. She wants to know what I have been talking about, but I feel like I’m cured and I tell her I already talked it out. But I guess it is the end of the night, she seems to need the money, she doesn’t really care if I talk or not. I try to talk about her, but she is pretty hard to figure out. Something is definitely bothering her, but she seems to fall into a reverie and then ‘wake up’ into a subtle shift in the subject when explaining it, and the music is a little loud, I’m not sure I get it at all. Then I have spent so much time that I better buy a lap dance to make it worth her while, so ok it is their job and their goal after all, but she seems a little sad and distant and the awkwardness of this kind of therapy really hits me.
That last sentence would make a pretty good Bulwer-Lytton entry, as submitted by Holden Caulfield.
Or maybe Chuck Palahniuk.
<insert joke about zombie strippers here>
I’d say early 20s. Once you get to see real boobs for free that you can touch, I don’t see the point.
Yes, I realize my money is not too old for you at all, but I didn’t understand that to be the thrust of this conversation.
I know what a woman looks like with no clothes on and if I should ever forget I know how to find all the reminders I need for free. Other people’s mileage may vary, and who am I to dictate to them, but I for one would find no percentage whatever in paying to get in to an all-you-can-eat buffet where the deal was that I didn’t eat anything. Besides, I’m not as hungry as all that. 
When they cleaned up the Combat Zone in Boston the businesses moved south. Things are a little tighter in RI now. For a period of time indoor prostitution was legal and the clubs had become nearly outright brothels. After making prostitution illegal again the cops started cracking down and now the places are less outright.
I don’t do strip clubs, but after turning 35, I’m certainly having some problems with the sort of pornography that I used to enjoy. I can be looking at naughty pix and videos, and all I’m thinking is: “Kid, you’re what, 19? 20? For one thing, you’re much too young for me to find you attractive. You know nothing about the world. You’re practically a child. For another thing: What the hell are you doing? Put some clothes on. Go back to school.”
I guess I’ll be hanging out at those MILF sites from now on.
When you stop being invited to bachelor parties. At least, that’s what my wife says. I haven’t stopped being invited to bachelor parties.
Find another strip club.
My male roommate says that when your daughter’s 16-year old friends start coming around the house, it’s time to stop going to strip clubs. He says you start making unacceptable mental connections.
He does tell me that it’s perfectly fine to go in a large group, though, if you’re entertaining a client or, as mentioned above, attending a pre-wedding party. (are men really bachelors if they are on their second or third marriage? I think not. Ergo, I call them pre-wedding parties).
Richard Feynman used to visit a strip club, sitting at the bar, drinking coffee and sketching the dancers. At one point, the blue-noses tried to shut it down, and he testified on the club’s behalf. It must have been nice to have a Nobel Prize winner on their side.
Been a while since I’ve been to a strip club, but I have been to some modern burlesque shows, which is more about sex-positive feminism.
My wife used to occasionally run the spotlight and music for the strippers between the movies at the adult theater she worked at. She did the bookkeeping, but would help out when needed. She kept making tapes for the dancers, trying to widen their tastes beyond Back in Black and You Can Leave Your Hat On.
Too old?
Twenty-two.
If you haven’t figured out that the girls don’t really like you by then…