Tuesday, May 15, 2007

Migdick, or how I learned about the birds and the bees

Editor's Note: I wrote the following post while I was on vacation. This all did happen to me, and I'm, in fact, leaving parts out to protect the innocent and, more likely, because I forgot some details. Also, this is not really safe for office reading...if someone can read your screen.

I never had a talk with my mom about sex. If it were to happen, I would imagine it being kind of awkward. She's talked about her sex with me around a few times, but it was not a discussion. It was, literally, her talking about her sex life with me sitting around uncomfortably having to listen because it usually happened in a car. I had always expected one of those strange 50's My Three Sons kind of talks about sex, not a rant about sleeping with a delivery man. Couldn't I at least get someone explaining this to me while smoking a pipe?

Throughout my adolescence, the birds and the bees made little sense to me, probably a smidge less than those who actually heard it. I always sort of knew that it was a metaphor for sex, but I found it strange that it was birds and bees. Those strike me as two very contradictory animals, especially in dealing with sex. I guess they both carry things and have eggs, but I don't really know how that one works out.

This seeming incongruity left me with a hole in my life. It wasn't really a large hole. Maybe the size of a clothespin. But, not understanding the birds and the bees was a bit of an inconvenience as it led me to fail miserably in my own life, which was completely my own fault. All of these years, I didn't understand the birds and the bees until I went to Shades, which was my first trip into a strip club.

Shades is a full-service Jamaican strip club located in the next town over from the tourist hub of Ocho Rios along the northern shore of the country. Shades serves a diverse population of tourists and regulars in myriad ways, some of which will be further explained later. Shades has the traditional strip club vibe to it. The front is nondescript and lit with fluorescents. You had to get wanded before entering, but, as I had learned only a few minutes earlier, this is standard practice in Jamaica at any late night spot. After getting past the generic front, you enter the main room. It was pretty much like the ones that I saw on those HBO documentaries about sex. This put me at greater ease as it was already a familiar place, but that ease was lifted when I started dealing with Silky.

Silky was my private dancer for the night. I'm fairly confident that you can figure out what kind of services are offered at this club. But fear not, this story will turn from pleasure to pain in the span of not more than five sentences. Since Silky is a masseuse, she gave me a message. Yes, that kind of massage. Problem was I wasn't invited to the party. While she did actually get rid of the 1% of tension that I usually care around with me (I seem uptight, but that's natural. I'm actually probably too relaxed naturally), that relaxation went a step too far, changing from pleasure to pain. But, Silky was content because she was wasting her time for money. When she took back to the main room, she gave me a lapdance based in narcissism. I watched her stare at herself in the mirror that was next to the chair. And she also drank a beer. And neither of these was a one time affair. The beer was, but not the mirror watching. While this was happening, I was asking myself "did I really expect something more from this?" Anyway, this girl wanted a tip for her shady lapdance. In this experience, I learned an important practical lesson: never take large bills to the strip club. While this whole incident left me with a setback monetarily, it taught me the first, and probably most important, component of the birds and the bees: the person has to be very attractive...to you. Your boy/girl isn't getting grinded on by this girl; she should be someone you wouldn't mind if they invaded your personal space. This seemingly simple point was lost upon me. It must has been all of the ass shaking that clouded my mind.

While they were shaking their asses every which way to Sunday, I wasn't really feeling any of them personally. This isn't to say that they didn't try to impress. On the contrary, they were very entertaining as they used a pole in some of the most innovative ways I've ever seen. But, this was a Tuesday night, and Tuesdays at Shades are known for being a very special night. It's actually Freak night, where everything goes down and is completely acceptable. That will be elaborated on in due time, but the presence of freak night lead me into the second aspect of the birds and the bees, which will be explained in due time: sex is always better and more satisfying for all parties involved when everyone is equally respected.

On freak night, as I explained above, everything goes. And, I do mean everything. The first display of the night was have a girl do a dance on the stage then proceed to flash her vag to the whole audience. She does a headstand against the pole. While she is doing this, some guy with blond hair comes on stage from the audience. He then proceeds to stick a bottle in her vag and eat her out. It was entertaining, but the tone for the night had been very much set.

The next girl tried to have sex on stage with the previous guy (the one with the bottle), but that situation fell flat due to a mechanical malfunction. Even with some oral resuscitation, the malfunction went on. The next set did not have any malfunctions...as it was a lesbian scene. This scene started and went like an epic marathon set of debaucherous realizations.

The first was that watching the three girls on stage get each other off was like watching a NFL Films production. There were ups and downs, rises and falls, and the domination of one team's spirit over the other all set to a hot back beat.

The second realization was that even if you are hung like a horse this doesn't hide the fact that you are an asshole. To explain this point, I go back to the writhing lesbians on stage who are experiencing the throes of orgasmic pleasure. After about 15-20 minutes, the girls found their rhythm. At this point in time, some guy walks onto the stage and starts just stripping. I turned away for a moment, and, when I look back, I see him down to his boxers trying to feel up on the girls. The girls weren't really that into it at first, but they eventually acquiesce. As he went along, it became clear that he was trying to get his rocks off instead of being a respectful member of the function. He sort of threw the girls around and tried to get with this one girl who couldn't even stand up on all fours. It was generally sketchy and made me feel bad for the girls. I thought I was alone, but the other people in the audience were sharing my displeasure at the scene. They waived towels and screamed obscenities at the young male with the big schlong. After a while, the third girl was trying to go with it for a while, but wasn't feeling it. That ended the scene, but the night had only hit its peak.

The peak of the night was this midget. You hear midget and think that's nothing special. But, he had a dick that would put every man in his place. It's huge! But, I had to find this out after watching an extended dancing sequence while he finished his energy drink. It was only one song, but it seemed like forever. After this was over, they found a girl willing to go on stage with him and his third leg. As she grinded on top of him and I saw the expression in her eye, I realized that I knew the third, and final, component of the birds and the bees: sex is a physical act, but it means little if it is lacking soul or fire. The girl's eyes were blank, staring off into the distance with any possible feelings of passion masked by a pervasive spirit of ennui. This display helped me to make conclusions about my life, the birds and the bees.