The business is changing.

Why not? Everything alive evolves; the only constant is change. Nature abhors a vacuum. Quite frankly, so do I; that's why I'm so glad I have hardwood floors.

The strip bar where I got started back in the Dark Ages was a man's world, for all intents and purposes. Sure, the women were still the driving force (otherwise it's just a joint with a lot of red light and really expensive drinks, after all), but it was a boys' club, a dark, secret place that most 'civilian' women had never seen and into which they wouldn't dream of walking. Your average girl next door had no idea what went on in a place like that, and she was pretty sure she didn't want to know.

That's still true, in large part: bachelor parties and boy's nights out are the stuff of sordid speculation - and, often, relationship deal-breakers. Lots of women still get pretty bent out of shape, and it's easier, when arguing against it, for them to use terms like 'degrading to women' instead of just 'galling to me'. Somehow "Doesn't that DISGUST you?" rolls off the tongue a little more smoothly than "Don't look at HER!!!" Don't misunderstand me; many women really do believe that the sex trade is damaging to women. For every one of those ladies, though, there are two or three or four more who use empty feminist rhetoric behind which to hide their own small and self-serving agenda - even from themselves. Righteous indignation, as they say, is often jealousy in disguise.

I began to notice an interesting trend in the mid-90's, however. 'Stripper chic' was picking up steam, and we were being portrayed (at least occasionally) more realistically and less patronizingly in the movies and television. Demi Moore did her darndest to make up in Striptease for the damage done by Showgirls and Jerry Springer. Slowly but surely I started to see women in the bar. It was a surprise at first. When I was very young the only women I ever saw at work besides the strippers were arm jewelry for some high-roller or the occasional adventurous wife. Most of them shared one defining characteristic: they weren't there because they wanted to be. The majority of the dancers didn't dance for them; we smiled reassuringly at them while we gave their man half a show and got away quickly. We could tell when we had an actual swinger, though, a lady who was there to enjoy herself, and most of us made sure she did; those, however, were few and far between.

Things are different now. It's been years since I worked a weekend night where there weren't at least a few women in there. "It's Family Night!" I often say on a Saturday; "Kids eat free!" It's still mostly men, it's true, but the boys' club is no longer exclusive. There are women buying drinks and laughing and getting dances and reaping the benefits of a sexy night out when they get home with their husbands. Couples come in together and sit quietly in the back, while raucous groups of men and women take over two or three tables and let it all hang out. Some girls know exactly what to expect; others have no idea what they might be in for. Some are table dance veterans; quite a few others huddle together and look a little like finding the bathroom might feel like a trip through a haunted house.

There's only one ladies' room in my club, and it's in the dressing room. The first few years I worked there it was rare indeed to see anyone in there but other strippers and female personnel; not so these days. I still get a laugh out of the Daniel-in-the-lion's-den expressions I see when some of them open the door marked 'ladies' and see us all standing around getting dressed or curling our hair. One poor woman peeked in one day and asked, in a doubtful tone, "do you have a restroom back there?"

"No, honey!" I chirped. "We pee in our purses!"

There are still those unfortunate few that are there for all the wrong reasons - to keep him happy, to keep an eye on him, to look like a good sport, to keep him from cheating - again. They're easy enough to spot: they look like someone just gave them a turd to suck on and their angry, defensive posture screams "Stay away!" Some of these watch their husbands watching us, narrating the action with critical comments and disparaging remarks: best to avoid this type. Others just look sad, or desperate. Those are the worst, at least for me.

Those ladies who actually choose a night at their local strip joint will find that they often have an even better time than the men they're with. Many dancers will actually get a lot friendlier with women than with men. Dancers LOVE fun female customers, and the male customers love to watch. I've looked over more than once while dancing for a woman and seen a look of awe on her husband's face that told me he was seeing a side of her he hadn't realized existed. Sometimes the look on her face tells me that she hadn't realized it, either. More and more women are realizing that sex play is a delicious part of life, and that the erotically charged, lively and libertine atmosphere of a topless bar can be exciting and oddly freeing and not the den of degradation they had always pictured.

It may take a while for the word to spread to the masses about the great fun that can be had when one spends one's evening with strippers or other professional good-time girls. That's really too bad: folks don't know what they're missing. Be a good citizen and a good friend, and help to get the message out. Consider, perhaps, giving out free admission cards at PTA meetings or hosting your next Tupperware party at the club during happy hour.

No? Well, I'm sure you'll think of something.

For Private Dancer Monthly
June 2003