New York Stories: My Friend, The Stripper
My friend Jonathan takes off his backpack, unzips it and shoves it under my nose. “Quick,” he says as his eyes dart around the bar to check if anyone sees him, “look in here!” I take a peek inside the bag, and that’s when I see it. Money. Tons of it. He’s carrying a bag that is almost completely filled with wadded up pieces of green and white pieces of paper. This can only mean one thing.
“OMG, Jonathan! You’re a stripper.”
Jonathan quickly holds his finger to his lips and tells me to shhh. To be fair, I should admit that Jonathan isn’t a stripper in the technical sense of the word. Strippers take their clothes off. Jonathan doesn’t. He just walks around in his underwear while he gives women massages and lets them stick bills in his underwear. Hmmm … Jonathan is the last person that you’d expect to “strip”. Now, don’t get me wrong. He has a great body. He’s very attractive. (I would continue with the compliments, but Jonathan reads this blog. I don’t want his head to get any bigger than it already is.)
As long as there have been able-bodied people who are capable of removing clothing, there have been strippers. So, I guess the only reason that Jonathan surprised me when he told me that he strips is this: he doesn’t seem to need the money. Students strip. Starving artists strip. But, investment bankers don’t strip, do they? Hmmm … maybe it’s not about the money. After all, the human ego is the only thing that likes to be stroked more than bitches in heat. But, enough about bitches. And, more about Jonathan.
Jonathan hasn’t told his girlfriend about his occasional evening- and weekend-only stripping habit, and he’s not going to. He’s afraid that she would judge him. And, you know what? She probably would. Nevertheless, I still think he should tell her. I mean, hell, what has he got to lose? At the very least, she’ll be happy to finally know why he disappears and doesn’t answer his phone on random evenings, right? Wow. I can honestly say that I’ve never had a friend tell me that they strip. Man, I love New York. This city and its people continue to surprise me every day.
July 12th, 2007 at 7:36 am
I wish I could get rich by stripping :P
As long as its no sex ;)
July 12th, 2007 at 2:49 pm
I was thinking about becoming a stripper. But then I’d starve.
July 12th, 2007 at 4:12 pm
“He just walks around in his underwear while he gives women massages and lets them stick bills in his underwear.” Yeah right…women. Did that bag o’money smell at all like High Karate and shame?
July 12th, 2007 at 5:23 pm
Papigiulio: I wish I could get rich period.
Baba Doodlius: I’m much to shy to get bucknaked, so I’d starve too.
Redd Jester: “L’Eau du Shame”? I didn’t smell it on him. He smells a lot like “Obsession for Men” cologne. :-)
April 13th, 2008 at 11:16 pm
Awesome blog, I’ve been a reader of your blog for a while now, probably one of the best I have come across, very informative..
Keep up the great work,
Josh.
April 15th, 2008 at 7:19 am
Thanks, Josh!