I know. I know. It’s February 13, 2015, the day before Valentine’s Day and everyone, okay those outside of Pensacola, are talking about the 50 Shades of Grey movie debut. Y’all may be celebrating your day of love with bondage and submissiveness, but here in Pensacola we have our own brand of smut.
I don’t know if it’s just Pensacola, or just the southern part of this country, or too much booze on the brain, but we seem to have more strip clubs than wayward husbands, horny beach bums, and strippers. That fact can only be topped by the signs posted out front of these ‘clubs’. I have seen signs mentioning Jesus, and I don’t mean the roofer from a Spanish speaking country. I’ve seen signs asking people to come to happy hour after going to Sunday Church. But the one I saw this week tops them all.
On the sign outside one particular strip joint is a sign enticing men and women, yes, let’s not forget how women love to watch other women strip while their husbands put the grocery money in strings, to celebrate Valentine’s Day with drinks and nekkidness.
I kid you not. I saw it with my very own eyes, and nearly caused three accidents in the process. This is on the one street in our town that has a speed limit of 45 mph. Yes, we drink, look at nekkid women, and drive fast too. Hopefully not at the same time, but then again, it is Florida.
I have a lot of friends, many living here in Florida. Not one of them has told me they plan on spending their day of love at the local strip club. Most say they are going to the Casino, or for a weekend get-away, or just want to stay in bed.
How smuttiness became associated with the day known for love and romance is something for further research. Originally the day had to do with hitting women with blood soaked hides to ensure fertility followed by bachelors drawing the name of a female from an urn to whom he would be paired for the coming year. Hmmm. Love? Romance? Perhaps, but certainly not my style.
The truth behind the Valentine legends is murky, like our local swamps. The stories all emphasize his appeal as a sympathetic, heroic and–most importantly–romantic figure. One not necessarily associated with nekkidness and smut. And then again there is that Cupid character who is mostly nekkid, but who would pay money to see him dance on a pole?
I’m sure there are men dying to spend their days with the strippers. There may even be a few women who will be there, though I suspect they will be nekkid and on stage hugging poles.
From the life and warped mind of Wanda M. Argersinger
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