Strip Clubs Make Me Uncomfortable

The Sidekick revealed to me this evening that strip clubs have always made him uncomfortable. When asked why, he kind of struggled for an answer. Isn't it funny how you have feelings and sometimes aren't exactly sure where they come from. He said he was always the guy at the back of the room playing pool. Gynecology Row, as he calls the front row, has never appealed to him. I tried to help clarify the situation and swiftly discovered the issue wasn't really a moral one. He doesn't feel going to the strippers is wrong, per-say. They just make him uncomfortable, okay?

Granted, he did tell me he doesn't find strippers attractive.

"Too skinny?" I asked, all hopeful.

No, that wasn't it.

Too naked? Too cheap? Too easy? All of the above?

The conversation went deeper and he told me how the strippers would gyrate and take off their clothes, then go backstage and get dressed only to come back out and chat with the men who were just ogling her. So, was it having to look her in the eye after looking into her vagina? Or was it the lack of relationship? Being so close to a naked woman, having those lustful feelings, but not knowing her name, favourite colour, or star sign?

This could have rang true if he hadn't already said he didn't find strippers attractive, thus taking away the lustful feelings most men probably have when looking at breasts, areola and all.

Then he said, "I don't know. I'd go in with a couple guys and we'd sit up front. Everyone seems so into it and I'm just sitting there," mocks sipping his drink, "and feeling weird."

"Is it because you're with guys? Like you're watching a lady dance around naked and it seems more like a solo sport?"

This might be it, but we haven't yet confirmed. In the end, it's almost as though he doesn't like strip clubs without really knowing why he doesn't like strip clubs. And all the while I'm making him run circles because I completely understand and am simply enjoying watching him try to explain it. The truth is, I also am uncomfortable with strippers and strip clubs. I don't look down on anyone else who enjoys them, or goes, but it simply isn't my rodeo. The objectification certainly bothers me, as does doing it with a crowd, then there's the fear of losing an eye. Also, I know these men are supposed to be sexy with their waxed chests, rippling muscles and aggro sexuality, but they aren't. So, in the end, I really do get it.

And so ends another after dinner discussion with the Sidekick.

Stripped Bare

Sometimes, I stand naked in front of the mirror and look at myself. Into myself. I strip myself bare and look at my bones. My soul. The key components of who I am as a person. I do this because it's a reminder. Not that my thighs are jiggly and my hair is pretty much always unkempt, but that I am human. That I am on a journey. That these moments are my life and I should be participating in the fullest degree. These seconds, minutes, hours, days, months and years, cannot just slip by.

Every moment is precious. Every day I wake up a gift. Each moon rise noteworthy. The sunrises important.

It's easy to get sidetracked. To get swallowed by emotions and worries, strife, grief and uncertainty. The longer I stare at my bared body and soul, the more I see how convoluted existing can seem. But seem is an impression, not necessarily truth, and if you dim the lights and change the angle, everything shifts. Morphs. Looks different.

There is so much noise these days. So many distractions. We are carrying computers on us everywhere we go and this new fangled technology hinders us. Even when we are with our family and friends, we aren't with our family and friends. We are with our family and friends, and the hundred or so friends we have on our Facebook, Instagram, Twitter or whatever social media is our current vice. The noise gets to me. It grinds me down. Out in the world, there are radios and cars, people, phones, televisions everywhere. It's why I moved away from the city. Why I am in fact living in a village. But I love it here.

Because it is easier for me to strip myself bare. Because when I leave my house there are mountains all around me. Because the air smells of smoke and forest. Because the streets are quite. Because the stars can be seen when I look up at the night sky.

Still, even with all this wonderment around me, I get distracted. I forget. And I get downtrodden, especially in highly emotional times. I get weary. Tried. Broken. I forget how blessed I am. How happy I can be. And how healing the earth is.

So, I strip myself bare. And stand in front of the mirror and look. Not at how my belly may just be a bit bigger than it was last year, but at my soul. I reconnect with the girl I am, and the girl I want to be. The one who wants flowers in her hair and no shoes on her feet. It only takes a moment to reconnect with myself, but it's so important. Because when I lose sight of who I am, it gets hard. This whole thing is all about ebb and flow, I wonder why that always slips my mind.

The truth is I don't want my journey to be a burden. I want it to be an adventure.

It's nice to check in and see I am still here.