Obviously, I didn’t want to use my real name because I didn’t want my friends and family knowing I was dancing in a gay bar. I realized I couldn’t lie about my name much longer. But then he whipped out all this paperwork and told me he needed to see ID, so that everything could be properly documented. I thought I would just gyrate onstage for a little, and that would be that. I was wearing a shirt, slacks and my regular boxers. “We’ll have you dance for 15 minutes and see how people react. But then I got the call: “Hi, this is Dougie, I’m looking for Jack.” I’m like, “Jack?” He’s like, “Yeah, Jack Stark, I’m calling from Splash.” It took me a couple of seconds to register that I had given them a fake name. I had forgotten about it by then because I was doing my thing with this guy. I got a call from Splash maybe like 10 days later, after I’d left the message. A family member? A significant other? After that, I didn’t hear from him again. Then one day he was like, “Stanley is coming back so I can't have you coming in anymore.” I never figured out who Stanley was. I couldn’t really gauge how old he was because he didn’t have any wrinkles or gray hair or anything. He must’ve been around my age, maybe a little older. That detail stands out in my mind because it was the same exact one my girlfriend had at the time. He was always on a fifteen-inch aluminum MacBook Pro. Sometimes, we made small talk about my work and the weather. Right at the beginning, he asked, “Are you gay?” When I told him I wasn’t, he was like, “Okay, good.” I thought that was pretty odd. He never made a pass at me, he never jerked off in front of me. I did that once a week for two months, so eight times in total. There was even one day where he didn’t look at me at all! It was weird. He would literally just sit there, on his computer, glancing up at me intermittently. He always had me drink a glass of ice water first, practically insisted on it. One of the requisites was that I had to be barefoot I couldn’t even wear socks. It usually took me about an hour, an hour-and-a-half to do the whole apartment. He had a really nice place, and he just wanted me to clean it in my underwear while he watched. I found this one guy up near Central Park. I’m not comfortable with the idea of selling my body, but I have no problem with people looking at me. I figured I’d never hear back from them, so I decided I’d scope out Craigslist in the meantime.Ĭraigslist has a lot of weird sex stuff, but I tried to steer clear of anything involving prostitution. It sounded like a Tom Cruise porn parody. “This is Jack Stark.” I don’t know why I came up with that name. I was afraid to leave my real name so I made one up.
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I mean, who uses voicemail anymore? But, whatever, I figured it couldn’t hurt to give it a shot. You know what you could do? Call them up and leave a message.” I called the number he gave me and the guy on the other end of the line was like, “Oh, I’m sorry sweetie, I’m living in Miami now. My boss’ friend told me to look up a spot called Splash. Of course, I didn’t even know where to start looking. Gay men tip way more than women for strippers.” He goes on, “It’s because gay urban professionals want to let off steam after work just like anyone else but they generally have a lot more disposable income.” In my mind, I’m thinking, well, I should listen to him because he would know. So, he’s like, “You should dance at gay clubs. We were out to lunch with my his friend, who was gay, and he goes, “Do you have a problem dancing for men?” I didn’t have to think about it for very long: hell no.
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I brought it up to my boss, not expecting anything to come of it. I thought, “Fuck, the last thing I want is to get stranded somewhere three hours away wearing nothing but a jockstrap.” My car would overheat quickly and break down.
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They were all really far away and I didn’t have a reliable mode of transportation. I started looking up male strip joints, like Chip ‘n’ Dales and stuff. I was curious about how much money these guys made and what the work was actually like.
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One day, my boss commented, jokingly, “You know, you’d probably make a lot of money as a male stripper.”Ī lightbulb went off in my head, so I decided to look into it. It was the best shape I’d been in my whole life. I was always on the buff side, and because I was doing so much physical activity, I got pretty ripped. The thing is, men, gay or straight, are all the same-they’re the ones shelling out for strippers.īack then, I was really into working out and walking to work.
#STRIP CLUB GAY MEN NEAR ME TV#
It was a bachelorette party, and it was much tamer than anything you’d see on TV or in the movies, let alone in the gay nightlife scene. I think I’ve stripped for women maybe, like, once in my life. As an offshoot of the gay club junket, I also did private events. One thing you should know about me: I’m straight but I stripped exclusively at gay clubs.