I made a friend and I fell in love. Where was I? Remington’s Men of Steel.
It’s been ages since I’d been to Remington’s, the city’s only official male strip club. It’s the only one because the people who run this city will not grant any more licences for these establishments. This makes Remington’s one of a kind, and kind of precious.
Every June, the club celebrates another anniversary. Started in 1993, it’s been through a lot, including extensive renovations. A few years ago, in order to draw more customers, the club decided to allow women into the club. Some guys find this a turn-off, and it’s true, women are rowdy customers. It’s like the sight of a dick makes them horny or something. But there is still the men-only time before 9pm on the second floor weekdays and men only all evening Friday and Saturday with women welcomed on the first floor only, which has kept its dark mysteries intact.
In the ‘90s, when I was rich and single, I was there all the time. I knew every dancer by name. Last week, I felt it was time to reconnect with the Remington’s scene, so I decided to spend an evening there by myself. The boys wear a team uniform now, orange or lime tank tops. They still solicit for table dances. I know many gay men crab out about this, but isn’t that the whole point of a strip club? That gorgeous naked men come by and try to entice you into paying for an intimate moment? I enjoy the game when I meet Jake, a Turk who shaves his ripped chest. Jake tells me he is studying aerospace engineering, which may or may not be true but why would I care? What really grabs my attention is when he is onstage and grabs the rafters, hoisting himself up so that his dick hangs out over my table. Sweet.
Then I meet Justin, who brags about his nine-inch cock and tells me that he is studying international business. Does every stripper go to school? Then there is Elton, the sweet 22 year-old black guy who looks a bit like Will Smith. Elton tells me that he is one of the club’s few gay dancers. We muse about why that is so. Perhaps straight dudes are more comfortable being worshipped and adored. God knows the gays can dance a bit better. We chat for over a half hour. I feel like I made a friend.
Then I meet Jackson, who, despite that bland nom de porn, is a six and a half foot god, a Polish beauty whose quiet masculinity steals my heart. The way his head hangs down makes me want to cover that adorable face in smooches. After some mumbled conversation, I ask for a private dance, and he does not disappoint. His body, lean, muscled and poetic, is like nothing I’ve ever felt before. This is the reason I am here.
Is there a reason, I wonder, why male strip clubs aren’t more in demand by gay men? A lot of gays are pills, grousing that they don’t need to pay for it. Some complain that it is simply too expensive. Others are turned off by the whole “gay for pay” aspect. They pretend to worry about the drug abuse and other social problems attached to the lifestyle, or they blame condos or the internet or grouse about body fascism. Excuses, excuses. They don’t use the same stupid excuses in Montreal, do they? That city has over a half dozen strip clubs and they are always full.
The truth is, Remington’s is a good time. It always was. Remember Sperm Monday back in the 90s? I guess what I’m trying to say is, we need Remington’s. I know I would miss it if it was gone. In a way, it’s like a heritage property and should be guarded as such. We should not lose it, the way we lost the clothing-optional outdoor swimming pool at Club Toronto. Gay men of this city, stop being such drips and spend a night at a club where instead of being looked at, you can do the looking, and not upset some poor straight kid trying to shower at the Y.
And you just will not believe how cute Jackson is.