Go-Go? No Go!

I've always wanted to bring a change purse to a strip club. Not one of those fancy change purses either, but one of those cheap plastic ones that you squeeze to open. Imagine how hilarious it would be to stare down a stripper, produce a crappy change purse, pull out a nickel, and slide the coin into the stripper's underwear. That's comedy!

A couple weeks ago, some of the Friday-nighters took me to a seedy Hollywood bar called The Stone—where the gray-haired English owner wandered around drunk and told stories about his adventures working at the Old Vic; where shirtless, toned Thai bartenders served booze; and where thong-clad male go-go dancers, both gay and gay-for-pay, danced and rubbed themselves against unsuspecting patrons.

Alas, I did not have a change purse, but I had plenty of dollar bills which were completely wasted on a hot dancer who seemed a bit uncomfortable about his role. I've seen movies in which guys who look at a female stripper the wrong way get beat up in the back room and shot, so I kept asking this go-go boy—who was now mingling with the crowd—how I was supposed to give him his money, where it was okay to place it, etc. Basically, I was looking for boundaries. But he kept reluctantly insisting that whatever I wanted to do and however I wanted to do it was all right—it was like he was trying to convince himself. When you're faced with a go-go boy so seemingly unsure and unenthusiastic about his job, you can't help but feel like a pervert.

Later, I pulled a stool up to the mini-stage where he was dancing.

PRINCE: Do you like your job?

GO-GO BOY: I like dancing.

PRINCE: Do you like being ogled?

GO-GO BOY: It's okay.

PRINCE: What else do you do? You go to college?

GO-GO BOY: Not right now.

PRINCE: You have another job?

GO-GO BOY: I work at the gym.

PRINCE: Oh. Are you a trainer?

GO-GO BOY: No. I'm just a receptionist.... Well.... Not "just." [Releases a sigh, as if to work up courage.] I'm a receptionist.

I shoved a couple bucks so far down the front of his underwear that my fingers were almost electrocuted from the shock his genitals must have felt.

Boundaries, people, I need boundaries!


  1. I have the distinct and sneaking impression that you need boundaries simply so that you can cross them.

  2. Ouuuu naughty naughty Prince.

  3. Prince, two dollars isn't enough money for the intense, personal moment you two shared.

  4. Noel: Two dollars?! No! Too much! I take all my cues from Filipinos, so he only got a buck!