My Sordid Past

I’ve posted this story online before, but never on this blog. So for posterity’s sake (if nothing else), I’ll post this now. Are you ready? Read on for the story of…

My Night as a Male Stripper!

When I was an undergrad at the University of Iowa, my friend James lived with two friends in one half of a duplex. A group of young women lived on the other side. James loved to throw parties and was an excellent host. He was having a party one night, and on a whim, I decided to get a little dressed up: button-down shirt, bow tie, suspenders and suit coat. I showed up as some friends were just arriving. It was early, and the party hadn’t really started yet. A couple of the girls from next door showed up. They were having a bachelorette party for one of their friends, and had told her they had hired a male stripper. They thing was, they really hadn’t, it was all a joke, and they were wondering if one of us guys would come over and pretend to be the male stripper. My friends all pushed me towards the door, yelling, “JOSH! GO!” I shrugged. Why not? When would an opportunity like this come up for me again?

I shuffled into the girls’ place, to be greeted by a small group of very drunk, hooting young women. “WOOOOOOOO!” I waved cheerfully. Someone hit play on a boombox and some funky music started playing. I started doing my slinkiest (that is, dorkiest) dance moves. I smoothly took off my coat and threw it to one of the girls. To my amazement, they beamed and cheered. So I undid my tie, undid my top shirt button, and threw the tie to another girl. More whooping and cheering. At that point, I stopped dancing, gave a bashful smile, and said, “Hi! I’m the Low Self-Esteem Stripper. Tell all of your friends!” They cheered even more loudly. I grabbed my things and hustled out the door.

And that, my friends, is how I was a male stripper for one night.

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