This past Friday night I joined a few of my gal pals for a much anticipated “girl’s night out.” After a yummy dinner at the Mediterranean Grill, we headed over to WestView Theatres to catch the 7:30 pm. showing of Magic Mike.
Unless you’ve been living under a rock this summer, you’ve probably heard about “Magic Mike.” It’s the story of an angst-filled Adonis who aspires to become a furniture-building entrepreneur but placates his dream in the evenings by working as a (ahem) male stripper.
It can happen……right?
Now….. before you start judging me, let me just say that the movie premiered well over two weeks ago and yet my friends and I were part of another sold out crowd, which means only one thing!
There are alot of women in Frederick who like furniture!
As the opening scene began and Matthew McConaughey’s horribly unsettling character took to the stage, my mind went immediately to an experience that happened in my 20’s.
I was working for a local sales organization when the ladies of the office decided we should have a “ladies night out.” Being by far the youngest in the office pool and new to the company, I jumped at the chance to feel included.
“Ladies Night Out” ended up including a trip to The Rabbit’s Foot, which was a very popular, local dive-of-a-bar in the early ’80’s. On certain nights they featured…..you guessed it….. male Chippendale-like “dancers.” (Out of respect to all the young men and women who are working their way through medical school or aspiring to be custom furniture entrepreneurs, we will call them dancers.)
In spite of the fact that I make my living speaking on stage and feel perfectly comfortable there, I only enjoy it when it is of my own choosing.
Part of the “entertainment” when you attended the show was watching poor unsuspecting women being dragged out of their seats and onto the stage by the….ummmm…. dancers. The more ill at ease a patron appeared, the more the dancer “danced.” The more suggestive the dancer danced, the more the crowd went wild.
I was sick to my stomach with fear that I would be pulled onto the stage. I was even more sick over the fact that the women who seemed to enjoy being pulled onto the stage were well into their forties… my mother’s age at the time! I think I’m still suffering from post-traumatic stress syndrome just from visualizing my own mother in that situation!
I’m happy to report that I was not one of the “lucky” ones that night. No dollar bills left my purse in spite of the fact that the Italian Stallion “moved like Jagger” to a crazed and frenzied crowd. I’m comforted by the speculation that, thirty years later, he is probably someone’s insurance agent, the proud father of two little girls and living in the suburbs of Ellicott City.
And as for “Magic Mike”, knowing that I am now the age of the moms of many of the young women in the theatre Friday night, I sat in my seat and quietly enjoyed the show.