Considering the fact that I am a guy, most people would immediately assume that going to a strip club is something I would enjoy. On the contrary, I find “Gentlemen’s Clubs” to be nothing more than a waste of money on a very expensive tease. Why would I pay money to look at naked women who are only being affectionate to me because of the money in my pocket – knowing that they will walk away the instant the well goes dry?

After spending the early part of yesterday with a client, I went into Times Square for a drink since I was already in Manhattan and had the rest of the day to myself. Before going into the bar, I decided to stay outside and smoke a Romeo y Julieta cigar, because New Yorkers can no longer smoke in bars and restaurants. While puffing away, I looked around and noticed that across the street was Stiletto – an all nude Gentlemen’s Club.” Promising no cover charge until 8:00pm, I watched a naive tourist pay a “bouncer” the aforementioned cover charge – only to watch the patron go inside – and the “bouncer” run away with the poor man’s ten bucks.

After watching that incident, and getting the idea for this column – I decided to, for the first time in years, go into a “Gentlemen’s Club.” So I went to Lace, Stiletto’s sister “establishment” and not only received an immediate education on the anatomy and stupidity of a strip club, but I also can now understand why men spend so much money when inside one without realizing or thinking twice – and why I have not been to a strip club in years – and why I will probably never go again.

As soon as I entered Lace, which offers only topless entertainment compared to its more risqué sister Stiletto, I was greeted by the enormous bouncer who checked my ID and then told me that for security reasons, I must check my knapsack – for two dollars. After doing that, I entered the topless bar and spent another thirteen dollars – in less than five minutes.

After getting my Budweiser, which costs eleven bucks with a two dollar tip, I went to sit down but was interrupted by “Diamond,” who targeted me before I had the chance to take my seat. After telling her that I was not interested in a lap dance, which I obviously assumed was the only reason she was talking to me – she actually got offended and said that the only reason she wanted to sit with me was to make conversation. “Do I look like I’m begging for money?” she asked. After agreeing to the sit down – as if I had a choice – we began making conversation and somehow wound up on the topic of September 11th and the movie Fahrenheit 9/11. Considering that I wrote a book about living through it – and losing my best friend – I actually got into the conversation and for a moment – forgot that I was in a topless bar – despite the half-naked woman dancing behind me.

During our conversation, “Diamond” went into amazing detail about that tragic day, discussing where she was during the attack, what we as a City had to endure that day and in the days that followed – and even the role of the President during those first few crucial days following the tragedy. Again, despite the fact that I was in a topless bar – and regardless of the fact that she was touching my leg – I got so into the conversation that I went back to the coat check area, got a copy of my book – and gave it to “Diamond”. When I gave it to her, she seemed very appreciative, so appreciative in fact, that according to her, she was ready to dance for me. After reminding her that I did not want a lap dance – she grabbed the book and walked away as if I never existed – just as I thought she would when she first approached me and I told her I did not want a lap dance in the first place.

And to think, I actually expected more from a woman named “Diamond” in a strip club called Lace.

After my encounter with “Diamond,” I left Lace and have no plans to ever return to a strip club again. In my opinion, as a “guy” – I find strip clubs to be nothing more than a money-sucking eye-candy factory that offers “look but don’t touch” merchandise at “arm and a leg” prices. In my world, I would rather spend my money on a woman who I can call “girlfriend” rather than “the girl in the red thong.” I realize that topless bars are living fantasies or escapes to some men – but not this one. But despite how I feel, and considering the amount of adult establishments in this country and the amount of money they rake in night after night – I am obviously the exception to the rule…

…or just a “boob.”