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My Sordid Past

I’ve posted this online before, but never on this blog. It’s one of my favorite anecdotes to tell, so I feel like I should repost it here. Read on for the uncanny tale of…

My Night as a Male Stripper! (DUN DUN DUNNNNN!)

When I was an undergrad, my friend James lived in one half of a duplex with a couple of friends. A group of young women lived in the other half of the duplex. James loved to throw parties and was an excellent, indulgent host. He and his housemates were 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 jacket. My usual getting-dressed-up-wear. I showed up just as some other friends were just arriving. It was early, the party hadn’t really started yet, and it was just a few guys standing around the house. A couple of the girls from next door popped in. They were having a bachelorette party next door for one of their friends, and had told her they’d hired a male stripper. They thing was, they really hadn’t hired one, it was all a joke, and they were wondering if one of us men 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 again? (Spoiler: it has yet to come up again.)

I shuffled into the girls’ place, to be greeted by a small group of very drunk women yelling, “WOOOOOOOO!” I waved cheerfully. Someone hit play on a boombox and some funky music came on. I started doing my coolest dance moves. I smoothly took off my coat and threw it to one of the girls. To my amazement, they smiled 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 quick wave, and said, “Hi! I’m the Low Self-Esteem Stripper. Tell all your friends!” I grabbed my things and hustled out the door while they cheered even more.

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

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