We started chatting with A (they probably gave us fake names but we’re still not going to use them here), a young brunette wearing a deep V-neck teddy and G-string, who was putting herself through a psychology major at college. After a few minutes of idle chitchat, SPJ disappeared with her into the back room for a lap dance. FYI: no lap dances happen in the main bar area. There is a back room where the girls take their gentlemen for a more private experience. That said, all the lap dances happen in one room so it’s not like you’re all THAT alone. Hands where we can see them.
While he and A were getting better acquainted, I took the opportunity to sip my $18 whiskey neat and pick at the bowl of Hershey Kisses. I found this to be a thoughtful snack addition, for fear I might carelessly spill marinara sauce on my LBD if I went for the sexy, sexy ziti. The crowd was... not what I expected. Men in suits clung to the bar, sometimes nervously turning their backs to the wall of half-naked women on the dance floor. Skinny dudes with glasses and floral print button-downs awkwardly sipped beer from a distance, emphatically discussing something finance-related. “It’s so awesome that you can actually have real conversations with the girls here,” I heard one of them say. A little tip: if you’re dropping $50 on admission, $18 for shots, and $20 for a two-minute lap dance just to socialize with a woman, you probably are not good at finance. And you probably are not good at women.