As a couple of twentysomethings in a state where the average age of residents is 42, we could have walked in wearing bags over our heads and still been one of the hottest couples in the room. Like in almost any other situation, the sex club offered a wide variety of people of varying attractiveness. The only difference? As opposed to a normal bar or public event, everyone actually tried their best to look good. With a firm dress code, the population obviously put effort into their appearances.
Sure, the majority of the guests were in their 30s-50s, but it wasn’t *just* people who saw the invention of the f*cking telegraph there. By going on a big event night (the club’s biggest Christmas party of the year), we figured there’d be at least a few other couples who weren’t covering up grays yet, and luckily we were correct. While, yes, there were a few uncomfortably attractive people in the mix, all in all it was a collection of normal people who were trying their best to look good, which is better than I can say for almost any other situation I’d find myself in on a normal weekend.
Expectation: It Will Be Expensive AF
if anyone sees me going to a bar with a cover in 2020, please slap me across the face and make me check my bank account
Now, obviously, as any closeted type-A could tell you, I know the prices of the club. I know how much it costs on any day for single females, couples, and single males (sucks to be you in this situation, gents). I know how much cover is, I know how much the drinks cost before 10pm, and I know how much they’ll price gouge us once it hits . F*cking duh. What does this look like, amateur hour? But, there’s still an element of the unknown. Will I feel so uncomfortable that I’ll have to down multiple $15 shots before I can make eye contact with anyone or will I be able to make both sexually AND fiscally responsible decisions?!
Reality: It Was Expensive AF
I knew the price of cover. I knew the price of the drinks. Hell, I even knew the price of how much the 30-minute Uber would cost to and from the venue. That still did not prepare me for looking at my credit card statement the next morning. My estimated cost for the evening? $175. The actual amount I spent over the course of the evening? Around $350. Between surge pricing, after-drinking munchies, and the fact that I become a shot-buying whore the second liquor hits my lips, the damage was as painful as my post-sex club hangover.
From what I understand about how these places work, there are spaces where the sex happens and there are spaces the sex doesn’t happen. The hookup-free areas are basically like any other bar (loud music, crowded dance floor, sexual tension) and it’s not until you head to the play areas that things really get
. My vision for these areas? A lot of pleather and plastic that will instantly make me wish I brought my own Lysol wipes. Will there be a dungeon with cheap chains and posters of bars on the wall? Sure. Will there be beds with mirrors above them? You betcha. Do I think I’ll be turned on? Not in the slightest.
This particular place had two separate areas, the bar and the play areas. While the bar area was like any other bar I’ve ever been to, with pool tables and oldies-stocked jukeboxes, the play areas were unlike anything I’ve ever seen.