Yeah, I’m an absolute pervert but hooters feels icky to me. Like, I’ll gladly mix sluttiness, alcohol, and food. I’d love it if I could get some appetizers at a leather bar. And while strip clubs aren’t to my taste, I respect them as honest sex work at least on the part of the strippers and patrons. But hooters is this thin facade. It’s a place I associate with people telling themselves they aren’t going to a strip club. Whether it’s to introduce their son to manhood or to have a night out with the boys. It’s not a strip club, but very specifically so.
There was a place near me called Smut N Eggs. Was a bar that catered to graveyard shift, we’d swing there after work at 6 in the morning to kickstart our “evening”. Inside where you would expect to see sports games on the TVs around the bar, they had vintage porn playing. The walls were covered with centerfolds.
The waitress, Michelle or Chele for short, was about 50 years old, had a smokers rasp and the look of someone who’d spent most of her younger years riding on a motorcyle, and suffered absolutely no bullshit. The food was amazing, the vast majority of people weren’t even looking at the screens, they were just digging into their dinner or breakfast at 6 in the morning with a beer or three on the side.
Yeah, I’m an absolute pervert but hooters feels icky to me. Like, I’ll gladly mix sluttiness, alcohol, and food. I’d love it if I could get some appetizers at a leather bar. And while strip clubs aren’t to my taste, I respect them as honest sex work at least on the part of the strippers and patrons. But hooters is this thin facade. It’s a place I associate with people telling themselves they aren’t going to a strip club. Whether it’s to introduce their son to manhood or to have a night out with the boys. It’s not a strip club, but very specifically so.
There was a place near me called Smut N Eggs. Was a bar that catered to graveyard shift, we’d swing there after work at 6 in the morning to kickstart our “evening”. Inside where you would expect to see sports games on the TVs around the bar, they had vintage porn playing. The walls were covered with centerfolds.
The waitress, Michelle or Chele for short, was about 50 years old, had a smokers rasp and the look of someone who’d spent most of her younger years riding on a motorcyle, and suffered absolutely no bullshit. The food was amazing, the vast majority of people weren’t even looking at the screens, they were just digging into their dinner or breakfast at 6 in the morning with a beer or three on the side.
Place burned down years ago…damned shame.
I’m rather upset your comment was so short because I was completely enthralled in your story.