When I started my career at the age of 23 moonlighting as a male stripper, I did it mainly to meet women. I wasn’t a bad-looking guy and probably would’ve done okay had I put in a little more effort, but social anxiety and fear of cold-approaching women had left my sex life pretty much dead. I thought that male stripping would make me look like a stud and solve my problems.
I was wrong.
I remember walking into a seedy club on a rainy night on the Lower East Side of Manhattan. The boss took one look, told me I needed to lose some weight, and to come back the following week. Once I started working, I realized that the other guys were much better-looking than me. These guys were models and aspiring actors and knew how to look good. A few of them were genetic freaks who ate whatever they wanted and walked around all day with an eight-pack.
During my first year I was like a shadow in the background, fulfilling my duties as a topless waiter and getting drinks for drunk girls while they grabbed and fondled the other guys. I learned diet and workout tips from the other guys and pretty soon I started to look and feel better about myself. I finally started getting more attention from women and my luck started to change. I was hooking up with girls more often and started to feel like “one of the guys.” Little did I know that this would eventually lead me to a deep depression and drug addiction.
Once I started having more sex, I compared myself to the other guys. I wasn’t sure if this was due to my competitive nature, but I found my level of happiness depended on how others were doing. If another guy had hooked up with a girl one night while I struck out, I’d feel bad about myself. This translated to the business side as well—I kept comparing how much I made in a night to how much others made and that was where my sense of self-worth came from.
My insecurities extended to sex, where I’d question myself to see if the girl was enjoying it or not. It was difficult to simply enjoy the moment. I’d think, “Oh no, I might finish too quickly so let me try to last longer. She’s probably had better guys before that lasted a long time…” and then my mind would wander. I’d end up psyching myself out and losing my erection. I’d think about the other girls I’d met that night at the club. Working at the male strip club had messed up my psyche causing me to overthink everything.
Eventually I had a falling out with the owner and left the club to start my own show—Exotique Men. I was no longer meeting as many girls as I used to and I questioned whether or not my business had any chance of succeeding. I fell into a deep depression and abused amphetamines to make myself feel better. Luckily the depression wore off and I got a better handle on my addiction issues. My mind’s now at peace and has forgone the ever-losing battle of comparing myself to others. The sex has slowed down, but now I’m more focused on finding the one person to spend the rest of my life with.