Being Amber Rhea

Dear “that guy” at the sex club last night,

Let’s get right to it. First of all, if you see my boyfriend and I getting our things out of our locker and getting dressed, you make yourself look stupid by coming up and saying, “So, you gettin’ ready to leave?” Thanks, Captain Obvious! However, I could’ve toned down my internal snark and forgiven that awkward attempt at small talk (lord knows I’m no master of it myself) if it weren’t for where you went next.

“I been seein’ her all night. Just wanted to touch her once.”

HELLO. If there ever was the remote possibility that I might have a smidgen of interest in your dumb ass? You just shattered it by speaking to Rusty, about me, AS IF I’M NOT THERE!! If you want to “touch [me] just once” so badly, it would behoove you address me directly, since I am, amazingly, a fully-functioning adult capable of speaking for myself.

Further, I mentally kicked myself the second after the response (see, I can talk!) left my mouth: “Sorry, no.”

Ah, there’s that lovely social conditioning as a woman again. Sorry? I most certainly was NOT sorry. If only I’d had the presence of mind to say, while you were still standing there, the biting things I said a few seconds after you’d skulked away. I would’ve said, “No. And let me give you a word of advice, hon” - and thence recited the third paragraph above.

This is not the first time this has happened, either. What is it with creepy guys at sex clubs, speaking about rather than to a woman who is right in front of them?? Surely you weren’t suggesting that, basically, Rusty is my owner, and thereby grants or retracts consent on my behalf. Surely not.

It was couples-only night, so you must’ve come with a lady friend. I hope for her sake that she’s the Patron Saint of Perpetual Patience.

Wishing you a clue,

Amber

Via Hobo Stripper, I found this video of the winner Miss Poledance Australia 2006:

On an only vaguely related note, last night Rusty and I went to Little Wings, another Atlanta swinger’s club. It was formerly Velvet Heaven and recently re-opened under new management. All in all the place did not suck, although I think Trapeze still gets top marks because of the layout and the kick-ass buffet.

Anyway, they had two poles, and I danced twice. The second time, I almost lost my shoe, but I wasn’t embarrassed - happily, I’m past being embarrassed about that kind of thing. I did scrape up my left knee a little, because they had this weird itchy carpet on the stage. I couldn’t do as many moves as I would’ve liked, because the poles were painted, making them difficult to grasp. But I think I did pretty well! Also, there was a guy in a cape and devil horns who pole danced several times, and he was really good. I wondered if he was a male stripper. (See, men pole dance too - for those of you who, for whatever unknown reason, judge an activity’s merit based on whether men do it.)

October is always my favorite month. I can’t put my finger on exactly why (I swear it’s not just because my birthday is at the end of it), but the weather plays a huge part. October weather in Georgia is just perfect to me. The air gets a certain autumny smell that makes me feel refreshed and generally optimistic.

A lot of shit has gone down over the past month and a half, and a lot of it has been (and currently remains) un-bloggable. It’s certainly not going away with the advent of October, but things are feeling so much better overall. We’re in our new apartment in Decatur, which feels way more like home than the old place ever did, even with furniture positioned haphazardly and boxes still stacked everywhere. Our plan is to stay here for a year, and then buy a place. This is going to be a good year.

And October is going to be a good month! It’ll be a busy month, but busy with good, fun, life-affirming stuff.

Upcoming awesomeness for October:

• Oct. 5: North Fulton Drama Club’s production of Merry Wives of Windsor.
• Oct. 6: Harvest ‘07 Erotic Art Show
• Oct. 12-13: BarCamp Atlanta
• Oct. 14: PoleLaTeaz student showcase - I’m performing!!! :D More details to follow.
• Oct. 18: Sex, Wine and Chocolate. (If you’re planning to come, buy your tickets now; space is limited.)
• Oct. 19-20: ConvergeSouth - I’m leading a session entitled “Podcasting and Beyond.” (Hmm, gotta make some PowerPoint slides this week… but only a few, I promise!)
• Oct. 21: After we leave Greensboro we’ll be visiting the Carolina Raptor Center, and then moseying back toward Atlanta, stopping along the way to photograph various small towns and Southern oddities.
• Oct. 22: Day off work for continued moseying if necessary, or sleep and whatever else.
• Oct. 26: Club 2Risqué new facility opening party.
• Oct. 28: Recording a new episode of the GA Politics Podcast at Manuel’s. (This is the part where I sit around and sip tea while other people talk about politics).
• Oct. 30: My birthday a.k.a. 28 Years of Amber Rhea.

Somewhere in there I’ve gotta find time to do mundane things like renew my driver’s license and upgrade the blog to WordPress 2.3, but that hardly warrants placement on the List of Awesomeness. Oh, and Jenny… are you still coming to visit? :)

Last night my traffic spiked dramatically and I wondered what was going on. Turns out, my post about our last visit to Trapeze got linked on Fleshbot! (It should go without saying that the link to Fleshbot is not work safe, but I’ll say it anyway.)

Woohoo! :D

Thanks, Chelsea Girl!

First of all, I hate it when people give blog posts titles like “Random Thoughts.” Even worse is when they name their entire blog something like “Random Thoughts.”

And yet, there it is.

I need to go to bed. But sometimes when Rusty isn’t here (he’s in Marietta tonight), I feel scared in the apartment alone. I know that might sound totally lame, but you know what, that’s just too damn bad, because everybody has things about them that might sound lame and yet are true.

One of the Georgians for Choice directors doesn’t like colloquial use of the word “lame.” She’s a PWD (gotta love the acronyms ’round here) and finds it disrespectful. I don’t have any opinion on it. I understand why she would feel that way. I also understand why some people find “crazy” disrespectful/offensive toward people with mental illnesses and such. I’m a diagnosed clinical depressive but I don’t find “crazy” offensive; in fact, in many cases, I find it quite apt. But if I know someone doesn’t like it, I make an effort not to use it around them. Inasmuch as Republicans flap their lips about “free speech” and “it’s just a word!!” you never see them acknowledging that if it is, in fact, “just a word,” then why’s it such a big fucking deal for them not to use it? Just pick another word FFS.

Oh! I found out some good news. Turns out, Club 2Risqué isn’t closed for good after all. They’re just preparing to open a new facility. And the grand opening is four days before my birthday. (Hard to believe I’ll be 28. Argh.)

I need to get off my ass and send my photoset to Project ISM (link NSFW). I took over 100 photos yesterday, and they turned out really well if I do say so myself. I am inching, excitedly and nervously, toward finally being naked on the internet. Encouragement would be appreciated. Anything else - including boring interrogation about “oh but why do you feel you have to do this??” is highly unwelcome.

Songs I’ve been listening to on repeat tonight:

• Birdhouse In Your Soul - They Might Be Giants
• This Love - Maroon 5
• Coming Undone - Korn
• Dip It Low - Christina Milian
• Sister Havana - Urge Overkill (remember them??)
• Bring Me To Life (Original) - Evanescence

I have not yet turned on my new MacBook, which arrived this morning. Delayed gratification!

And now, I really do need to go to bed.

Rusty and I went back to Trapeze last night. You might remember it from my less-than-stellar (and Too Hot for a Certain Aggregator) review here. Well, this trip was a complete 180.

One major difference that should be noted upfront is that no single men are allowed at Trapeze on Saturday nights. That certainly contributed to the difference in atmosphere.

We got there only slightly later than last time. As soon as we walked through the door, the contrast to last time was stark and immediate. There was so much energy, and everyone seemed to be having a lot of fun. There was a lot of laughter, and the dance floor was packed. There was also just a much bigger crowd that last time, and the average age of the clientele appeared younger (late 20s - early 30s). It seemed like a lot of people knew each other.

We got a drink (orange juice) and sat at a table watching people dance and taking in the atmosphere. Over the course of several songs, couples and groups of three or four made their way toward the mandatory-naked area in the back.

Soon we headed back there too. There seemed to be more attendants working in the locker room this time. We had brought our own padlock this time, but as it turned out, the attendant had a key to lock and unlock each locker.

When we went through the doors into the back area, the first big difference was, again, a much bigger crowd, and a much higher energy level. We started to walk around, and then Rusty noticed a door that we had somehow missed before. I don’t know how we missed it last time, but we did; and it led to a very large area (about the same size as what we had thought was the entirety of the Naked Area) with three hot tubs, a pool, another bar, several beach futon thingies, and two semi-private beds.

And there was fucking.

After the initial shock of “how the hell did we miss this before??” wore off, we decided to get in one of the hot tubs. We sat in the hot tub and watched a couple fuck on one of the futon thingies. I was also able to watch another couple on the other side of the pool, but someone was blocking Rusty’s view. We sat there for a while, very pleased with how the night was turning out. After the hot tub became too hot to bear, we got out, spread our towels on one of the futon thingies by the pool, and sat there fooling around and such.

I don’t recall how long we sat there, and I think at one point we got up and walked around to see if anything interesting was going on in the other part of the Naked Area, before coming back; but eventually we went to one of the semi-private “rooms” - a bed in a little hut-looking thing (I think they were going for a tiki theme) with tied-back curtains on each side. We ended up fucking in there (we laid out our towels, of course; etiquette is key) with great gusto. One couple remained a faithful audience the entire time, while other people came and went, peeking in occasionally. After that was over, we laid there winded and extremely warm, and finally staggered back out to the clothing-optional front area for drinks and a plate of fresh fruit.

We sat, recovering, and watched a small group of people on the dance floor, including one woman who was a really good pole dancer, despite the dangerous pole. I wanted to ask her if she took classes anywhere, but I’m generally terrified of going up and talking to strangers, so I didn’t.

After we finished our drinks, we went back and sat by the pool again. There were two orgies happening in it, which we watched for quite some time. At one point a woman came up and asked me, “Do you play with girls?” I said no, sorry, and she smiled and walked off. She did find a girl to play with soon enough.

Eventually we got a second wind and ended up fucking again, on the futon by the pool. The couple sitting directly across from us certainly got quite a show. Round two was fairly quick, and then we were both exhausted and tempted to fall asleep. After sitting around for a few more minutes, we decided it was time to go home.

It was nearly 3:00 a.m. when we left, and, strangely, when we got home we weren’t even all that tired. We ended up going to sleep around 4:00.

Last night was, in a word, awesome. We had a blast, and would like to go back again. I am pleasantly surprised, to say the least! We have a three-month membership, and if it’s fun again the next time we go, we might spring for a full year. Saturday night, couples-only, is definitely the way to go. It’s pretty expensive, so it’s not something we can afford to do every weekend or even every other weekend; but we’ll be back eventually.

What is it with sex clubs in this city?

We were hanging out with Dave C. the other day and telling him about our experience at Trapeze, and he said, “This makes me depressed for my city. I’d like to think there’s something going on here.”

Well, Trapeze looks good now compared to Club Venus.

And, the club I went to ~5 years ago looks GREAT now compared to both of them.

I’m not sure how long we stayed at Club Venus last night, but it wasn’t very long. Maybe half an hour, or 45 minutes at the most. Fortunately it wasn’t a long drive. Club Venus is nestled on a side street just off Monroe, near Ansley Mall (yes, in the heart of the gayborhood, ironically enough).

The building is small and nondescript, save for a neon purple “V” in the window. The rest of the exterior is painted black. It appears to be a former office building. Inside, the entry area is small and cramped - just like the rest of the place would prove to be. After paying our $50 entry fee (significantly less than at Trapeze), we walked through the door and into the dark, labyrinthine club. It actually reminded me a lot of BJ’s description of the gay sex clubs he’s been to. Lots of twists and turns, and in some places it was so dark I could barely see in front of me at all. Why does it have to be so freakin’ dark??

Anyway, boy oh boy was this an all-around disappointment, not to mention a real creep-fest. There were four or five rooms with beds and decor that appeared nicely appointed (but maybe that was just the dim lighting) - and they were empty. There were two rooms that were packed with several mattresses, and had multiple levels - also empty. There was a half-assed dungeon - empty, except for the people staring through the “voyeur window” into the “couple’s room,” which is the only place we saw any actual sex. You couldn’t go into the couple’s room unless you were a) a couple, and b) intent on participating. If you did not meet those criteria, you could watch through the window. Unfortunately, the window was small and hard to see through; we had to shove our faces right up in it, and even then, we couldn’t see very clearly. There was a couple fucking in there, but it got boring pretty quickly. Plus all these single men kept crowding around trying to watch too.

And that’s the thing that REALLY sucked about Club Venus - all the single men!!! And this was on a Saturday night, when their web site says a “limited number” of single men are admitted. I guess they do that in actual numbers, not percentages! Because the ratio of single men to everyone else was way high, and they were all CREEPY! Just constantly walking - excuse me, skulking - around, eyes darting here and there, not saying a word.

That really sucked, and definitely set the mood in a bad way. Who knows whether the lack of sex had anything to do with all those creepy guys (because again, it’s not like there were a whole hell of a lot of other people there anyway) but I sure as shit wouldn’t want to fuck in front of them. And I’m someone who’s a bit of a exhibitionist!

What else? Well, the only food was a pathetic-looking tray of cookies and crackers sitting in a side hallway. There was a bar that served juice; the bartender came and went. (Rusty overheard her saying it was a slow night, so who knows what it’s like on a non-slow night; but we won’t be going back to find out.) There were no other employees in the “inner” area (there were three employees working in the front reception area). The dance floor was utterly empty. There was bad porn (though not quite as bad as the porn at Trapeze) playing on TVs that no one was watching. There was also a separate porn viewing room, and that’s where most of the people seemed to be. And always, the single men skulked, and lurked, and leered.

I’m trying really hard not to make generalizations here. Maybe there are sex clubs - and, honestly, we need to be more precise; these are swingers’ clubs - in other cities that don’t suck. I don’t know.

But I do think it’s fair to say a few things, generally speaking, based on my experiences thus far. One thing that stood out to me about both Trapeze and Club Venus was the seriousness. Everyone seemed so grim and tense. There was no laughter; no joy. It’s a very specific, bad feeling that I can’t convey with words; but I believe it absolutely stems from all the shame and other sex-negative bullshit entrenched in our society.

Sex - including group sex - should be fun! It should be silly, and relaxed, and people should be laughing and smiling! I know this is possible, because I’ve experienced it - but not at a club. And I’m wondering if it’s at all possible to have that kind of atmosphere at a club where anyone can show up - including weird, creepy single dudes. I’m not sure that it is.

I dream of a world where none of this stuff has to be hidden behind (metaphorical) closed doors, and where there isn’t all the sex-negativity. I know some people argue that for some, a big part of the thrill is the fact that it’s seen as “dirty” and underground. The fun is in the sneaking around, they say. Well, I totally disagree. I think you can still get that “ooh, I’m dirty” feeling if that’s what you’re into, without having the actual stigma there, bringing everybody down and manifesting itself as creepiness and joylessness.

From my limited interaction with them, it seems like the local BDSM and fetish communities pull this off far better than the swingers’ clubs. But, a crucial difference there is, you can’t just randomly show up at one of the fetish group’s events; you have to be invited. You have to know someone, so that when you show up, even if the people there don’t know you, they know someone who does know you.

I don’t know what to say about all of this other than, I’m disappointed, but not surprised.

Next weekend, we’ll be going back to Trapeze one more time - on a Saturday, which is couples-only night, to see if the dynamic is different. Then we’ll record a podcast with our thoughts on all of it. (So think of these blog posts as the slightly-expanded Cliffs Notes version.) Meantime, if you’ve had a different experience with a swingers’ club, I’d love to hear it!

Last night, we recorded the GA Politics Podcast on the roof.

There was a bit of drama, but I was actually expecting more. This is good or bad depending on how you look at it.

Also last night, after the podcast party, Rusty and I went to another sex club - Club Venus this time. This one sucked even worse than our Trapeze experience last weekend, if you can believe it. I’ll blog about it in more detail later.

The two major events of last night involved me scraping up my leg while pole dancing at a sex club, and the police coming out to our apartment building at 2:00 a.m. These two things are not related.

We decided to go to a sex club to (here comes the big surprise) watch people fuck. I didn’t exactly have high expectations, as I had been to a sex club about 6 years ago and was underwhelmed to say the least. But, I thought, that was one night at one place; why not give it another shot? It might be fun and hot; and if not, well, at least we went, and we could laugh about it.

I did get my hopes up a little after talking to a friend who had been to a club called Trapeze about 3 years ago, and reported that it didn’t suck. And, according to their 1999-esque web site, they had a pole. (Side note: I do not recall the name or location of the club I went to ~6 years ago. It was somewhere in/around Atlanta, but that’s all I remember. It might not even exist anymore.)

So we went out there, and plopped down the $115 to get in ($50 membership + $65 door fee - they don’t waive the door fee on the night you buy your membership). They had a full buffet, and I’d heard that the food was really good, so the first thing we did was go get some food. And indeed, the food was awesome. Honestly, it was the highlight of the night. (Close second was a furtive blowjob we witnessed near the dance floor, but really, the mashed potatoes and broccoli still win in my mind.)

We sat at a table near the dance floor. There was really bad porn on two TVs, but fortunately the sound was muted. After we finished eating, I sat there waiting for the DJ to play a song that didn’t suck, and for annoying people to get their asses away from the pole so I could go up there and show them what’s up. Finally, I just decided to go up anyway even though I didn’t really like the song and this one couple would not move. So we went up there, Rusty stood on the “sidelines” so to speak, and I wiped the pole down with a napkin. This obviously wasn’t good enough, but I thought it might be better than nothing. Well, I ended up not being able to do a whole hell of a lot, because the pole was really slippery and dangerous. I tried a few spins and such, but for the most part I couldn’t get enough grip to do anything 100%. When I tried the fireball spin (Darcey will know what I’m talking about) I damn near fell off. Discouraged, out of breath, and bruised, I sat back down. Rusty said I did a great job but he could tell the pole was holding me back. Later, I noticed that I’d not only bruised the crap out of my legs, but they’re peppered with scrapes and cuts, too.

After I caught my breath, we decided we might as well go to the back area and try to see if we could watch people fucking. So far the clientele hadn’t exactly blown our skirts up, but we thought we should at least see what’s up.

The club was pretty clearly segregated into a “naked” and “non-naked” area, which annoyed me. And to go back to the part with the beds and stuff, you had to get naked or mostly naked. They had lockers, but they didn’t actually lock. That annoyed me too. Look, I don’t have a problem getting naked, but I don’t know these people; I’m not going to trust a bunch of strangers just because we all happen to be naked. But, still, we put our clothes in a nasty little locker, in a cramped locker room with a leaky shower (and some woman spilled her drink all over the floor right next to us), and wrapped threadbare towels around our waists. I kept my purse with me.

We walked through the double doors to the designated fucking area to find… not much fucking. Really, not any fucking. We walked around the whole place, and there was no fucking to be seen. A few old people had gone into one of the semi-private rooms and were groping each other, but I didn’t want to watch them fuck anyway. Mostly, people were just sitting around naked. WTF. Why do you go all that way and pay all that money just to sit around naked? You can do that at home. (Yes, you can have orgies at home too, but that’s a digression for later.) And most of the people were significantly older than us. I have nothing against people having awesome sex at any age, and indeed I intend to be having awesome sex until I’m seriously geriatric; it’s just that at this point in my life, if I had my druthers, those aren’t the type of people I’d like to watch fuck.

So, we stood in the corner for a minute or two, nonplussed. Some older men leered creepily. Finally we decided to just leave. So we got our clothes back from the nasty little locker and left.

I guess I’m a little disappointed, but not exactly surprised. However, we’ve decided to do a little more “research” and do a podcast about it, hopefully within the next few weeks. Since we have the three-month Trapeze membership (we didn’t have a choice), we decided we’ll go back on a Saturday night, and see if it’s any different. For one thing, single men aren’t allowed on Saturday nights. That might help create a less lecherous dynamic.

We also want to check out Club Venus (why do these places always have web sites that look like a bad mid-90s Geocities home page?) and see what it’s like. That might be the club I went to before, but I can’t remember. I don’t know of any other clubs that are still open (Velvet Heaven and 2Risqué closed; shame about the latter, they had an under-40 rule) and aren’t BDSM-themed or something. If you know of any others, let us know; but our podcast research may remain fairly limited in scope anyway, ’cause this shit costs money.

Later I want to write about why the whole “swinger” concept annoys me; but I’ll do that in a separate post, because this is already really long, and I have to talk about the person on the roof.

So, after coming home, we were lying in bed at around 2:00 a.m. or so. The lamp on the bedside table was on. Naturally, we were lying there naked. I was lying on my side, facing Rusty… we were relaxing and talking, and then all of a sudden he says, “Holy shit, there’s a person outside the window.” (When he was at the “there’s a…” part, I thought he was going to say something like “a ginormous insect on the bed.”)

I dove under the covers; I didn’t even look up to see the person. Rusty yelled, “What the fuck??” and apparently the guy ran off. I was scared and stayed under the covers. Rusty got up and called 911. He told the operator that there had been someone on the roof peeking into the window, and it looked like the guy was fiddling with the window as if he was trying to get in. (He wouldn’t have gotten very far… it’s like a 20-foot drop inside those windows.) So about 10 minutes later, a cop came out, and looked around the building and the roof, but didn’t see anyone. So that was that. We didn’t file a police report or anything. Oh and apparently the cop said something to Rusty about, “Most people have drapes.” (This was over the phone.) Excuse me?? For the most part, I was happy Rusty was dealing with cop and such, but I wish I had been on the phone at that moment. I would have pointedly asked exactly how us having drapes on those 20-foot high windows would have made it okay for someone to be creeping around on the roof at 2:00 a.m. A million other questions about this stupid non-sequitur spring to mind as well. I mean, also, I shouldn’t have been wearing that short skirt. And what was I thinking, walking through that part of town alone?

So anyway. That was our night. My leg is still sore from the shitty pole dancing. I’m pretty much over the “dude on the roof” incident now, and am just pissed more than anything. (Yes, we told our landlord; but you know how things have generally been with her. Strained, to say the least.) We’re thinking it would be nice to have drapes up on those windows, but we’ll definitely have to hire a professional to install them, because there’s no way in hell either of us is getting up there.

Stay tuned for, eventually, a podcast about our experiences with Atlanta sex clubs. And I’ll also write a post about the whole “swinger” thing, and the concept of sex clubs in general.