>>> Primal Urges
By staff writer Nathan DeGraaf
September 7, 2005

Mike: So how many more strip club columns are you doing?
Nathan: I’m writing the last one right now.
Mike: What’s it about?
Nathan: My first love.
Mike: Which club was that?

The most debauchery filled, strip-club related evening I ever had coincided with the first (and only) time I ever fell in love. A few years ago, I was smitten with a young fraulein (she was from Germany, so I can use that word without feeling like a total stooge). During the first two months of our courtship, we spent every possible moment together, which pissed off my friends. So one night, after taking an endless pile of shit from some buddies about how I hadn’t hung out with them since I met her, I picked up the phone to call my girl and let her know that I couldn’t go out with her that evening. Right as I reached for the phone, it rang. It was her. And she told me that she wanted to spend a night out with her girlfriends (who were giving her no end of shit about her spending so much time with me). “Wow,” I thought. “That was easy.”

So the fellas and I all went to a party where I ran into a few friends and a very attractive female. About eleven o clock that night, said female mentioned that she had to go to work.

At eleven o clock?” I asked. “What the hell do you do?”

“I’m a dancer,” she said. “If you’d like to come watch, I’ll get you in for free.”

I think you all know me well enough by now to know that I accepted her invitation.

The night was off the wall crazy. I met three of her stripper friends (all of whom she lived with) and I got total VIP treatment: free lap dances, free drinks, a few make-out sessions with different chicks, and a free backroom blowjob. I don’t know how you would define heaven, but if it’s nothing like that VIP room than I see no reason to behave in this lifetime. Anyway, after the place closed, the four girls, myself and three guys named Ron, Josh and Mike all went back to their four-bedroom house, where things got even more insane.

After finishing up with the stripper who invited me, I went into the kitchen to get myself a beer. To get back to her bedroom with said beer, I had to walk by a naked stripper who asked me if I had any coke, maneuver myself around two people fucking on the kitchen floor (covered in chocolate pudding and not being even slightly discreet or ashamed about it), and then explain to Mike that I didn’t think he could have a turn with my stripper girl.

“Come on, man. You can have a go with mine.”

“Mine’s asleep,” I replied. “I don’t think she’s up to it.”

“I’ve got something that’ll wake her up.”

“Okay, I’ll ask her.”

I never asked her.

That evening was crazy-cool-insane-funk-nasty-alidocious. But it wasn’t love.

The next day, a friend of mine named Tom came to my work. He was at the party that my girlfriend had gone to and he informed me that “every guy in the place was hitting on her…there was practically a line.”

So that evening, when my beautiful girlfriend came to visit me at work, I mentioned (casually) that I heard a whole bunch of guys were hitting on her. I was expecting a typical female response (you know, something like, “Don’t get jealous, nothing happened” or “You know you’re my man. It was no big deal.”) but instead she looked at me with a sharp smile and said, “Of course. All of them.”

It was such a brutally cool response that I fell in love that second. She had just sealed me up, right there, with those words. From that moment on, I would do anything for her.

I picked her up, slammed her against the wall, and kissed her as passionately as I knew how.

“I love you,” I said.

“And I love you,” she said.

It was about two years before I ever set foot in a strip club again.

And with that, I conclude my five part exposé on strip clubs. I have mentioned before that I could write about this topic forever, but I think I should probably give other topics a fair chance as well. I want to thank all the people who wrote in (especially Amy, Mark and P, all of whom, I am convinced, could have written these columns better), and I want to let you guys know that though I am leaving the strip clubs for other topics, they will always have a very special place in my heart. A tear is welling up in my eye right now. It hurts to say goodbye.

So we’ll just say, “See you later.”

Nate's Strip Club Series – Turning boys into men, and girls away from stripping.
Part 1: Interview and Intro
Part 2: Classing the Strip Clubs
Part 3: Staging the Strippers
Part 4: My Two Stripper Girlfriends

Part 5: The End-All Love Story