I'll give you $10 for that penis!

Most of us have probably heard of and even been to a strip club featuring women. But last week in Atlanta I had the pleasure of visiting a male strip club, and it wasn't the bachelorette party type that you see in movies with a stage at the front and lots of guys in shiny undergarments that only a woman would like. This was a big room with a stage in the middle (complete with a stripper pole) where dudes danced 3-song sets: shirtless, underwear, then naked. The crowd was mostly gay guys sitting around tables having drinks with friends, and occassionally walking up to the side of the stage, where for one dollar the probably-straight stripper would simulate humping their face for four or five seconds before bending down and allowing them to place their money in his armband. The name of the place was Swinging Richards. Get it? What's a nickname for Richard? Dick! Ha! Swinging Dicks! Brilliant.

I went there with my boyfriend and a really sweet gay couple, Rick and Ed, who we were staying with while we visited the American South's prominent urban destination (again, I mean Atlanta). Ed and Rick have been together for 21 years, and Ed was as excited about seeing hot naked guys as one would expect from a guy who had been in a relationship for so long, so my boyfriend made sure we got a table right at the stage. At first I was a little uncomfortable. Of course I wanted to look at the floppy genital show under the spotlights in front of me, but I felt so strange looking that I instead spent the first 30 minutes nervously looking for somewhere safe to rest my eyes.

I have only ever been in strip clubs twice before that. The first time was when I was 21, dating cute little raver Vince. We went to see our girlfriend at work one night. It wasn't busy, and just to be fun, Vince and I brought lollipops to give the girls as tips. We thought they would think us cute little gay boys were adorable. They did actually. The next time I was in a strip club was in Portland, where I heard that in a tiny little section of town it was legal for male strippers to get completely naked. It was disappointing though. Of the dancers I remember, there was a scrawny kid who looked barely 18 and still had acne, and a greasy looking long-haired guy in his mid-30's. The small crowd wasn't much better. I left within 10 minutes.

As the night wore on at Swinging Richards, I got much more comfortable staring at the guys. I watched one for quite a while because he was actually a really good dancer. Ed and Rick must have noticed because at some point when I was looking around they hired him to give me a lap dance. I wish they had let me choose the guy though, because I would have chosen the shortest dancer of the night, who ironically had the longest penis. His dance was adorable, because basically he just shook his hips back and forth so that his ding-a-ling rhythmically beat between his thighs. They didn't ask me though, so I got the dancer.

Ed and Rick called my name, and when I turned to them, the dude was already almost on my lap. I leaned back in my seat, grabbed my boyfriend with my left hand and my chair with my right. My favorite part was when he put one foot on the table next to me, leaned forward, and slapped his penis up and down over my chest. Good times! Then the song ended, Rick gave him ten dollars, and he was gone. Can you believe I got a penis grind on my chest for the bargain price of ten dollars! That's a deal if I ever heard one.

The rest of the trip was fun. It was a marathon of seeing Atlanta while concurrently meeting as many signature figures in my boyfriend's life as possible in four days. The best part of my vacation was getting home though and finally being able to relax with my boyfriend. Quiet time with him is even better than my first lap dance, and it doesn't cost me ten dollars.