Just a Jew. Named Mitch. Writing about his feelings.

Man Shower

Posted by JewMitch on July 9, 2009

baby shower

A while back, one of my older (over 30) married friends told me that he was having a baby. He also told me that he was having a Man Shower and that I was invited.

“What’s a Man Shower?” I asked.

“It’s like a baby shower, except that only guys are invited. There are no presents, and we’re all going to go to a bar and then probably a strip club.”

“So it’s like a second bachelor party?”

“Yes, except don’t call it. It’s a Man Shower.”

It was a group of fifteen or so guys, mostly in their early thirties, and we met at a decent barbeque restaurant called Rub in Baltimore. We gorged on barbeque, then hit a nearby bar for beers and pool. It wasn’t long before someone shouted, “Let’s go to a strip club!”

I turned to one of the guys I had been talking to and said, “I don’t really understand the appeal of strip clubs. There are hotter girls here at this bar, who I actually have a chance of sleeping with.”

“You’re not married,” he said. “I hate this bar for that exact reason. There are established rules in a strip club, like you can’t touch any of the girls, so I can’t get into trouble. I can just look at naked girls for a bit and then go home to my wife.”

Jesus, is this really what married life is like?

Once again, like every strip club story I’ve ever been involved in, we couldn’t get into any of the good strip clubs because a few of the guys were wearing shorts. So we wondered around the Block (Baltimore’s famous strip club district) for a bit and tried one of the more ghetto clubs, which had only one fat, possibly pregnant, stripper, who was missing several teeth. I am not making this up.

Finally someone remembered that we could get into Night Shift, which is the strip club that people used to go to in high school. It wasn’t as much ghetto, as it was trashy. The night continued to devolve as everyone got bombed and I watched why bad strip clubs stay in business – married guys fucking love these places. They would say things like “That stripper is fucking hot!” regardless of the actual attractiveness of the stripper, and then throw money at her.

Eventually one stripper came out in a full catholic girl costume and a yardstick. Someone told her we were there for a Man Shower, so she immediately went after the soon-to-be-father and tried to pull him on stage.

“No, no,” he said. “Take him instead,” pointing to me.

The next thing I knew, she had pulled me up on stage, ripped open my shirt, and was spanking me with the yardstick. I remember being less excited about this, than concerned about finding the buttons she had just ripped off.

“Find my buttons!” I shouted from the stage, thinking I could sew them back on to the shirt later.

The night ended with me walking about a mile home from the strip club, wearing a shirt that was fastened by only one remaining button, and reeking like strippers. I can’t wait to have kids.


2 Responses to “Man Shower”

  1. Erin said

    Okay – I’m upset — “over 30 friend” gets two blog related posts. “Over 30 friend” 2, “Friend Mitch Knows for 2 secs” 1, Erin – 0. I’m hurt.

  2. Bob said

    While I’m concerned that anything called a ‘Man Shower’ will hasten the demise of western civilization, I would’ve paid money to see you shout “Find my buttons!” while being spanked by a yardstick from a stripper.

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