I once dated a guy who liked going to strip clubs. And because I was trying to be a cool girlfriend, I told him strips clubs were, like, not a big deal. I wasn’t one of those girls who would get all uptight about a little thing like strip clubs - please. I was superbly confident in my woman-ness and wasn’t going to be undermined by the exotic entertainers at Dejá Vu, so grab some singles and have a ball!
The root of my strip club enthusiasm, like most of the poor decisions I am still paying for today, lay in my own colossal ego. I was sure that by being totally cool with strip clubs, I had made big time girlfriend history. Like, seriously, how great was I for not freaking out about strip clubs? The answer was a passionate SO GODDAMN GREAT. Gold star for me!
In my martyred bliss, I didn’t think that my boyfriend would actually, like, go to a strip club. I thought this was one of those things that guys fantasize about but never actually do, like when I say to my friends, “Oh my God, I know Joseph Gordon-Levitt is kind of a douche but I would seriously make out with him if I had the chance. SERIOUSLY!” Everyone knows I would be way too awkward to even say hello to Joseph Gordon-Levitt. Everyone knows if Joseph Gordon-Levitt said hi to me I would probably just throw up on my thrift sore heels at whatever red carpet event I had managed to weasel my way into by cutting off my hair and convincing people I was Lena Dunham. Everyone knows I would run away embarrassed and drown my sorrows at an In-N-Out burger (because - surprise! - this fantasy takes place in California).
So when my boyfriend called me one night saying he was planning on going to an actual strip club with real live strippers, I didn’t really think he was serious. My general reaction was, “Yeah, okay…have fun throwing up on your thrift store heels…see you later.”
But when I saw him later that night in his post-I-just-saw-a-bunch-of-nearly-naked-female-bodies euphoria, it became glaringly obvious that I was not okay with strip clubs. Feeling overwhelmed by disgust and by my own lack of cool-girlfriendness, I not-so-politely requested, “Can you just, um, not touch me until you shower?”
He was rightfully confused and hurt. He had done his part and made sure I was okay with him doing this and, strip club thing aside, he was (and still is) a real stand-up guy. He didn’t want to hurt my feelings and he didn’t want me thinking he was an untouchable. (Gold star for him!)
I tried and failed to be really okay with strip clubs because I didn’t want to be one of those girls. Those girls that are super uptight about everything and are perpetually controlling. I have seen awesome women take so much shit out of fear of becoming one of those girls, and I don’t think I’ve ever actually met one of them. And in fact, scientific studies show that only about 2% of those girls exist in the real world, and the rest reside in their natural habitat of deeply embedded socio-cultural castration anxiety.
Don’t we all have things we’re not cool with but put up with anyways to be a super awesome girlfriend or a great wife or a fantastic fuck buddy? Don’t we all want to get up on our chairs and shout I AM NOT COOL WITH STRIP CLUBS OR MAKING YOU POT ROAST OR YOU NOT CALLING ME BACK AND I AM DONE PRETENDING I AM SO THAT I’M NOT ONE OF THOSE GIRLS?!
Maybe we don’t all want to do that, but I kind of do. Because it’s important that we know we are not those girls. We know that refusing to accept strip clubs and other people’s dirty dishes and one-night stands who treat you like crap the next day doesn’t make you over-jealous or a prude or a bitch, it makes you a total BAMF.
So here’s a list of things I’m not cool with that I plan on shouting while standing on a chair in the near future:
- STRIP CLUBS!
- ASS OGLING!
- CHEST OGLING!
- ANY OGLING OF ANY KIND! JUST KNOCK IT OFF ALREADY! I’M A PERSON!
- NOT TEXTING ME FOR YOUR ENTIRE SPRING BREAK TRIP!
- BLATANTLY IGNORING ME AFTER A SEXUAL ENCOUNTER!
- NOT DOING ANYTHING ROMANTIC FOR AN ANNUAL ANNIVERSARY!
- ASSUMING THAT I ALWAYS WANT TO PLAN DATE NIGHT!
- SUCROSE-RELATED NICKNAMES FROM STRANGERS!
- ASSUMING I CAN’T LIFT HEAVY OBJECTS BECAUSE I HAVE BOOBS!
- COMEDY CENTRAL’S THE MAN SHOW*!
*I won’t put too much energy into this since the show ended in 2004, but quick PSA: The Man Show is awful on so many levels. Who decided it was okay for Jimmy Kimmel to wear blackface in the twenty-first century? No more re-runs! That’s enough, Comedy Central! I like yelling!
This post is, without a doubt, inspired by Caitlan Moran’s How to Be a Woman, so please go read that book and then get up on your chair and also shout, “I AM A STRIDENT FEMINIST!” along with all of the things that you are not cool with.
- notbetweenyouandyourambition likes this
- soswingsshe likes this
- chelseakinjo reblogged this from mypropheticsoul
- chelseakinjo likes this
- audration likes this
- wryan likes this
- thisishutch said: u r my ideal woman
- itsfrantastic likes this
- itsfrantastic said: THIS POST IS TOO REAL FOR ME. I might send you an email about it.
- therealavince said: Well put! Remember though, these “lapdances” are putting them through “grad school!”
- therealavince likes this
- annaasbury likes this
- mypropheticsoul posted this