My Life As A Male Stripper

Posted by Brad Osborne on March 27, 2022 · 25 Comments 

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Our unit often spent anywhere from a week to a couple of months preparing for our ops. This was usually done state-side on large military bases where the geography and buildings we would encounter were built in mock-up.

During this training, which we referred to as “being spun up”, we were able to enjoy all the benefits of being back on U.S. soil. There was the language we knew well, the foods we recognized, the latest in music and entertainment, and, of course, the comfort of beautiful American women.

As with any large military installation, the town it supported was rife with bars and strip clubs catering to the young men and women stationed on base. During one of these times, I had started a relationship with a stripper. That is likely a story unto itself, but we can save that for another time. Nothing overly serious, as we both knew I would not be around for long. Just two people happy to share the time they were given together.

Over breakfast one morning, financed by the horny young men who had tipped her the night before, her and a few of her uninhibited friends were complaining that all the bars have female strippers and there was nowhere for them to go to enjoy the same visual entertainment. My spotter, Jeff, (we were virtually inseparable) and I jokingly said that if they found a bar that would have us, we would be male strippers for one night. The giggling around the table made this seem an agreed on laughable idea. And the subject vanished into warm pancakes and sparkle body lotion.

About a week later, my girlfriend announced that she had found a small bar that would let us work one night on stage. She had made all the arrangements for us to “dance” that Saturday night. When I showed a modicum of hesitation, she gave me that look that said, “I thought you were bluffing”. Well, that is all an overachieving Marine needs, a challenge. I told her we were in.

I had to admit to her that I had no idea what I was getting myself into when I offered this silliness, but she assured me she was an expert. She worked with the bar to advertise this one-night event. She took me out to buy me a couple of thongs. She helped me with some deft choreography. As the night neared, I started to feel a little excited and just a touch more confidence. But then she conveyed some information that gave me pause. As it turns out, there is an old law on the books in the state that specifies that anyone dancing in a venue that serves alcohol cannot show body hair below the waist. I am not sure if this was done to encourage a bit of hygiene or to simply encourage them to not expose themselves, but it was never meant for the male dancer, I am sure. However, there was no way around it. So, Jeff and I were faced with having to shave our legs if we were going to follow through on this.

I can now say, with firsthand knowledge, that this task is not as easy as the women in our lives make it look. The contortionist flexibility required to reach some places is just painful. Much less the fact that after three swipes, the disposable razor was worthless and needed replaced. I, eventually, took a good two-inch-long section of skin off my heel before I even knew what happened. What a trial to be standing in the privacy of your own bathroom trying to shave your legs. But alas, we did not have the privacy of a bathroom. We shared our shower room with the twenty other Marines living in that squad bay. And as Jeff and I stood in the open tiled space, we were heckled and teased by every other Marine. In a group of type “A” men, it was a feeding frenzy on our egos.

Short story shorter, we did eventually dance that night at the bar. We took turns dancing to three songs and then the other would take over again. This went on for about an hour and a half. There were only women in the crowd and there must have been at least seventy or more. Many were strippers out for their own night of fun, so they were very supportive and able to have fun with the whole thing. Those who weren’t in the industry seemed to have their fun too.

I have to say this rare experience taught me a great deal. Let’s review.

1. Be careful what you say.
2. Women are amazing creatures that kill themselves just to be even more beautiful than they already are. I will never underappreciate the silky-smooth texture of soft skin.
3. A pocket full of cash can erase the laughter of lesser men.
4. Men know how to behave in a strip club and women do not. They are easily emboldened by a mob mentality.
5. When your legs are shaved smooth, every piece of clothing you put on feels so weird.
6. Feeling desired is the panacea for any ego.
7. Watch out for crisp new bills, going in and coming out.
8. Exotic dancers/entertainers and sex workers are people too.
9. I now understand the phrase, “My eyes are up here”.
10. After your girlfriend pimps you out as a male stripper, it is only just and right that you pay for breakfast!

Filed under General · Tagged with attention, breakfast, ego, entertainment, exotic dancing, Life lessons, male stripper, Marines, mental health, shaving, smooth legs, strip clubs, stripper, thong, women