Taking it off.

A dozen of us ended up at Centerfolds in downtown Boston. First off, the place takes itself way too seriously. Security guys in expensive suits and Agent Smith earpieces, snapping off short phrases into walkie-talkies; dude, we're here to see naked women, not Whitey Bulger. Ten minutes and $20 cover charge later, looking down from balcony I'm surprised at how small the place is: the girls come down steep staircases to one runway and a pole, two 50" plasma flatscreen televisions are mounted high, tuned to the sports channel. Those TVs seem vaguely insulting to the dancers, "Here are some naked girls, but if they're not pretty enough for you, you can always watch scruffy baseball players scratch themselves and spit." The lighting is dim, the neon is tastefully subdued, not a disco ball in the house. The dancers themselves, they're attractive and well constructed, but...uninspired. I tell Photiq that I'd rather watch our stripper friend C dance; he emphatically says he has no desire to see C at work, and this starts a long and involved conversation about transactional sexuality, service industry jobs, and the dichotomies between friend and employee relationships. So Photiq, Mr. Zero, Tim and I are huddled in a booth talking, a dancer comes up and tries to get us to buy a drink or a lapdance or something and we pretty much shoo her away because we're too busy deconstructing her occupation. I'm betting that the girls see this every week, a bunch of sensitive liberal dorkwads come in and they're so intent on overintellectualizing the experience that they can't just give it a friggin' rest and have a good time, fer chrissake.

I've always said that I'd love to see C at her stripper job. She's a fantastic dancer and showman, but mainly because it's so important to me that I never disapprove of anybody's choice of employment, I think I'm overcompensating for mainstream society's view that a stripper is somehow deserving of less respect than a software engineer. More broadly, to think less of anyone because of their occupation, be it stripper or pizza delivery guy, porn star or supermarket checkout clerk, that is such total and utter bullshit it drives me crazy.

But I've been thinking about it more, as I tend to do because it takes me days to chew on any substantial thought-meat, and I realize it's not really about that. It's not about disapproval, it's about the relationship between sexuality, money, desire and friendship. If a friend works as a waiter and serves you at a restaurant, that's totally great, the customer-server dynamic is subsumed into the friend dynamic and it's amusing and relaxed for everyone involved. But when the check comes you have to decide how much to tip your friend, well that part of the experience as always made me a teeny bit uncomfortable but not so much that I don't want to have a friend wait on me. That is totally different from me going to see C take her clothes off for money. The first time it would basically be an in-joke between and her and I, it would be funny and lighthearted and I'd probably not stay for more than one of her sets. But what if I went every week? What if I sat there every week and laid down cash for her to writhe naked in front of me? I suspect it would impact our relationship as friends, seeing her at parties, ManRay and Ceremony, I think it would quickly become creepy and uncomfortable for everyone involved.

So I'll probably never see C dance naked. That's ok.