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Timex345
Illinois
How old is too old to be a stripper or a customer?
I guess if you can't make it to the stage without assistance, that may be to old.
I guess if you can't make it to the stage without assistance, that may be to old.
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18 comments
A dancer can only be to old
A dancer is too old if and only if she is unattractive. I met a dancer this year who is over 50. But she is hot and blonde and looks about 35. If she hadn't told me her age, I never would have guessed.
Interesting you brought this up.
I was recently at a club and while sitting at the bar, next to me was a guy, had to be maybe even in his late 80's, (and he looked it and acted like it).
Some young thing (couldn't have been much more than 18 or 19...) was sitting with him and kept on calling him "baby" in their conversation,
The guy could have been her great grandpa. It was very strange to see and hear that.
The whole thing creeped me out, so I left for another club...
But I don't think Shadow ever leaves his corner at Follies.
Come to think of it, I wouldn't leave that corner in Follies either... It seems to work out pretty good for him!
For strippers, not my call, but I suspect the answer is, when she's. I longer making enough to make it worthwhile.
Some young thing (couldn't have been much more than 18 or 19...) was sitting with him and kept on calling him "baby" in their conversation,
The guy could have been her great grandpa. It was very strange to see and hear that … The whole thing creeped me out ...”
IMO this should be seen another way – sorta like therapy – nothing like having attention from an attractive woman to make a man feel like a million bucks – what is the alternative – to sit at home doing crossword puzzles – at least he was probably having fun and feeling good enjoying and using w/e time he has left – and kudos to the dancer for being sweet and attentive to him and making him feel good/happy – it's not as if it's a genuine romantic relationship – she was just doing her job and he was paying her to do her job – win/win as far as I'm concerned.
Posted December 20, 2011
"It began when my crazy friend decided that my dad, Charles, and another friend’s equally ancient father, Al, had been spending too much time nodding off in front of their TV sets. She thought it would be nice to spice up their lives with a birthday celebration that would include an outing to the nearest gentleman's club.
So off we went to Mr. J’s, an unobtrusive-looking Santa Ana bar, on a Sunday afternoon to catch the first show of the day. The timing was perfect, as far as we were concerned. There were the three of us (two daughters and their crazy friend), the two elderly gents and a club empty of everyone except dancers, bartender and bouncer.
The dads rolled into the club, literally: Al sitting in his wheelchair and my dad steering his walker. Everyone looked our way, but if our little oddball parade surprised anyone, they didn’t show it. We noticed some smiles, but the staff was professional, if that’s what one would call it.
The dads took a spin down to the stage, where they parked at the edge waiting for the show to begin. We sat several rows back, unsure what to expect.
Then the lights lowered and dancers began appearing onstage, strutting sexily, snaking around a pole and doing slow strip-teases. The dads weren’t sleepy this afternoon. They were laughing and nudging each other’s arms.
But my crazy friend thought they were missing out on part of the traditional strip club routine. So she pulled some $1 bills out of her wallet, and handed them forward to the dads.
Both put the bills in their pockets.
“No,” she said, “they’re for the girls. Give them to the girls.” They looked at her like she was speaking a foreign language. Two Depression-era guys with a couple of extra dollars that appeared out of the blue? No way would they give them away.
My friend kept on trying. She asked each of them which dancer he liked (both chose Cheyenne) and announced she was buying them each a lap dance. My dad, the birthday boy, would be first. He put aside the walker and stood up, his arms outstretched.
Cheyenne wasn’t sure what was going on. Neither were we. Then my dad stepped in close and began gliding her around the club in a Viennese waltz. He had a grin the size of Texas.
Other parties were held for him that year, including a large family-and-friends gathering. He enjoyed them all. But I never saw that same smile again.
The day after our trip to Mr. J’s, the three of us took Dad out to lunch. “Did you have fun yesterday?” Al’s daughter asked. “I really did,” my dad said. “I don’t quite remember why. But I had a very good time, indeed.”"
Stripper, if she looks over 40, not if her ID says she is over 40.
A customer is too old to be a customer when he is dead. No age limit. I see wheelchairs in SCs more than in any other public place. Either in a wheelchair because paralyzed, missing a leg, or just an old geezer. Its all good.
Wheelchairs in SCs reminds me of a scene from Basketball Diaries, watch 15:43 to 20:53
https://r1---sn-hp57knls.googlevideo.com…
For a customer, they are too old for a SC when they are dead. I've seen plenty of wheelchairs in SCs. Whether its because you are paralyzed, missing a leg, or an old geezer, its all good.
That reminds me of a scene from Basketball Diaries watch 15:43 to 20:53
https://r1---sn-hp57knls.googlevideo.com…
Craziest part is both are still very successful, older guys flock to them because they enjoy talking to them versus younger girls.
I wonder how much of that is pure fun and how much is, "In your faces, all you young punks! Beat this!" I'm told that he is pretty darn wealthy, has houses in Baltimore and Florida and often takes two week golfing holidays to Ireland and Scotland.
I want to be him when I grow up.