I Finally Went To A Strip Club

I went to a strip club for the first time at the age of 46…and I liked it.
I have always wanted to go. It has taken decades, but one night I finally went for it.
My friend and I were awkward, but giddy. We barely made it through the doorway without laughing. We bought drinks and sat down, looking uncomfortable but eager. Eagerly uncomfortable.
The music started pumping. So did the pelvises. Pelvises began thrusting in our faces. We started cracking up and could not stop. The guys’ shirts came off. Their butts were gyrating in our faces. Dollar bills were tucked into waistbands. Our laughter continued. The kind where you can’t catch your breath.
When one of the guys posed with us for pictures, I patted him on his sweaty shoulder. “You did such a great job!” I complimented him in my motherly-I’m-proud-of-you voice. What did I just say?!
He beamed and seemed to appreciate that more that the dollar bills he had collected that night.
Letting loose, acting oh-so-silly, laughing our heads off, making new “friends.” It was a night of letting it all hang out. Literally. I wonder why I waited so long.
