Not the typical Miami Club

After a long time without checking out a club, I came back to one of my favorites. I’m going to do my best to describe this thoroughly, but first a word about why I like this club. In fact, why I honestly like all the clubs here that many people deem overrated. The clubs I like are were dreams go to die - and I don’t just mean a strippers dreams. They’re grimy and sticky and poorly maintained. They boast an array of strippers - yes some sevens but mostly 5’s probably some below that too. They are primarily if, not exclusively, Cuban women. Think about the strip club in Ozarks with a Latin twist. You go there because there is nothing else besides the stripper and your money. You go there because the fact that a us d Cuban girl barely worthy of a 5 attracts you. And the fact that you’re letting yourself be with someone as used as her turns you on even more. You go there because in the depravity you find solace. And in the hopelessness a bit of hope - as long as you can scrounge together some money there’s always a Cuban stripper willing to make your day better.

In the strip clubs I like, strippers will take your money. You will spend a bit on the tip parade. You will be asked to buy a drink. And lap dances will cost you $25 per song (excluding tip - I usually tip). But you’re at a strip club! When I go to a club I know I’m spending minimum $300, likely more. And that’s without vips. I usually don’t do VIPs - not because of some moral thing, Id just get paranoid about being with a stranger later. My neurosis sucks. There are times when I do let the place get the better of me but that hasn’t happened at Bella’s.

The club is a beacon of hookery in a sea of industrial and multi family buildings. It attracts the worst degenerates from the area. I don’t mean criminals. I mean perverts. Middle age men escaping from their wives. Off the boat cubans that are likely visiting there sisters - the girls on stage. You name the pervert and he’s been there. But you know who else has been there? Every hooker that needs a bit of money to feed her son, usually because she spent it on a fake Gucci purse. The thing about those single mothers is that they’re willing to do pretty much anything - partly for the money, partly because they need the approval as much as any of the other lost souls in the place. They too want to feel themselves let go. Punish themselves by being with someone just for the money. The catharsis is liberating.