Affluence, Power, and Strippers

Somewhere between the innocence of childhood and the insanity of adulthood, we all discovered the strip club. In childhood, we had the “no girls allowed” tree house, and in adulthood, we replaced it with the girl filled strip club. The thing of it is, in childhood, is that our tree houses varied in degrees of sophistication. Some of us had the deluxe tree house thatrivaled that seen in the movie “Swiss Family Robinson”, while others had tree houses in differing degrees of economic stratas. In my case, my treehouse was a hollow carved out of an Osage Orange grove.

Those who had the nicer tree houses most likely moved on to the nicer things, and once they found the strip club, they were able to enjoy it more often and longer. In my case, not counting my military years, my visits to the clubs were limited to once or twice a year, and then only for a couple of lapdances. That was, until 2004, when my economic status suddenly changed and my visits became much more frequent and bountiful.

This week, we learned of a judge who seemed to just completely lose it with a stripper. He bought and used drugs with her, all under the eyes of investigators tailing him. He felt that he had become invincible. His power, position, and money enabled him a certain degree of latitude, but he's now squandered all that, and even at the age of 67, it's possible that he might spend the rest of his life in custody (most likely minimum security).

That brings us to the married men. Like the judge, they could lose a lot. In some cases, wives know, but tolerate it. The risks aren't just romantic isolation, but economic devastation should the wife get a nasty lawyer who intends to clean him out. The devastation could carry over to his business dealings. His business contacts might be of the mind that they care not to do business with a philanderer.

Finally, we have the single guy. If clubs were created for any single class of guy, it's the single guy. In a strip club, an attractive woman comes up, pretends to be his girlfriend, delivers a certain amount of romantic and sexual satisfaction, and then she disappears without dragging him into unwelcome family contacts, and/or the hassle and expense of unwanted children.

So, to those who take the risk, why do we do it ? Some guys have played it safe all their lives, and living on the edge for a while delivers a certain degree of emotional satisfaction. Some guys have lived on the edge, with dangerous jobs, and they know the levels of manageable risk(go behind the Berlin Wall, pre 1988, and you know what I'm talking about). And then there are those who, like the judge, think they can B.S. their way out of it.

Finally, there's the guy who really gets my goat. My best bud, Dave, is sailing out on the Chesapeake Bay right now. He sailed up the intercoastal waterway from Houston. He's been gone for three weeks now. He often takes long vacations, and being an independent businessman, he can afford to do it. Dave isn't a strip clubgoer, but he could be a very successful one, should he choose to do so. Why do some guys fall into shit and come out smelling like roses ?

I don't know, but if I did, I'd be one of those guys.