It’s such a shame that erotic entertainment for men is so commonplace and practically non-existent for women. The reason always given for this discrepancy is that women won’t pay for desire, but that’s just a lame excuse invented by the male chauvinists who own strip joints. The truth is, women are fully capable of objectifying men and are willing to pay for the privilege. If someone with a little understanding of what gets women excited also had some business sense, he or she could make a killing.
I talked this over with my mom and sister-in-law, and we started fantasizing about a lady chauvinists’ night out. First, instead of booze, we’d like our erotic entertainment served up with diet sodas and lettuce wraps like they have at P.F. Chang’s. As we entered the bar, exotic dancers would be on stage, relaxing on a couch, one watching football, the other gaming. Both would be in their underwear because great theater begins with a problem.
Of course, P.F. Chang’s lettuce wraps are so good that at first we’d hardly notice the entertainers. But when the men started getting dressed, even the hungriest customers would be completely distracted. The football man would stand up from the couch, slide on some slacks, and button up a shirt. Oh yeah! Then he’d seductively tuck in his shirttails and buckle his belt. Mm. Mmm. Next he’d pull out a tie—crimson and navy diagonal plaid! The audience would go wild watching him tie that baby!
By this time the gamer would have on some corduroys and an argyle sweater, and the patrons would watch with helpless desire as he trimmed his beard and slid on his dark, square glasses.
The evening’s climax would begin when the exotic dancers were neatly dressed. Assuming the joint’s owner could get around child labor laws, each dancer would run backstage and return with an infant and a Hoover Windtunnel. Then, with babies tucked beneath their arms, they’d move smoothly about the stage to the sultry purr of their vacuum cleaners.