No, that isn’t the worst male stripper ever. Or ever a stripper. Yet. It’s me on the eve of my 22nd birthday. Less than a year away from the start of my long and prolific career as a tour de force erotic entertainer. It was at age 21 when my adult metabolism finally kicked in. No longer able to stay lean while living on fast food and alcohol. The weight sneaked up on me as I focused on my day job and playing rock and roll. Noticing that my tight jeans were getting even tighter but paying it no mind. Maybe I was in subconscious denial. But my inevitable acceptance of the truth hit me like a ton of bricks. Which was how much I felt like I weighed at that point. Never one to shy away from an ambitious project, I threw myself headfirst into fixing the problem. Putting myself on a daily fitness regimen. Learning what I could (and could no longer) eat. I suppose it wasn’t that much fat to lose, but it took me months of fine tuning to lose it properly while sparing muscle. Long story short, I was ready for the beach (in Northern Colorado) by the start of fall 2001.
Or, if nothing else, I was ready to start getting naked for wild and crazy women. It seemed like a total no-brainer for me: a born entertainer and hedonistic bad boy overflowing with sexuality that provoked reactions from women for better or worse. Not once did I ever think it would be easy money. And it’s most definitely not. But I believed stripping to be a viable career path for me if I invested the time and energy into doing it right. And if I was not willing to give up after my first male revue performance during which I made a whopping $14 and was flashed by a woman with no teeth. Clearly, I stuck with it. Quickly moving into specializing in private parties as that’s where the real money is. As long as one has the balls to do it. And I’m one of the few who does. Most male strippers never make it beyond male revues, which generally aren’t profitable for the entertainers. This is by design as to ensure comfortable profit margins for both venues and talent agencies. Las Vegas male revues don’t “switch out” entertainers every 90 days. Rather, the “entertainers” (because they really don’t give a fuck about being professional entertainers anyway) all quit within that time frame.
I gained this knowledge by trying my hand at male revues via a few different agencies in the Denver area. And despite, or because of, my passion for entertaining audiences, I wouldn’t have stuck with it either. If not for a young woman named Jennifer who approached me during an “upscale” show in early 2002 during which me and the other performers were systematically having our base pay stolen from us through fines levied for bullshit rule violations. If we didn’t like it, we could just leave. My private party angel, impressed by my showmanship and intellect that no else came close to matching that night, complimented me for such while offering me the opportunity to perform at her best friend’s bachelorette party in two weeks. She knew what the agencies behind the show that night charged for a private male stripper performance but didn’t care for the affirmation-seeking fuck boys they were pushing on her. Preferring instead to go with me directly so I could have the entire booking fee (as opposed to half at best) for myself. I accepted and threw myself headfirst into the challenge of creating and delivering an unforgettable performance. Which, of course, I totally did.
And I was on my way. I didn’t quit male revues entirely, but I stopped doing the shitty ones for sure. Making private party performances the piece de resistance of my stripping career. Picking up bachelorette parties, birthdays, and other naughty girl events largely through word of mouth and thanks to my willingness to travel long distances for bookings. Along the Interstate 25 corridor from Colorado Springs to Cheyenne, Wyoming, across the Colorado Eastern Slope, and into neighboring Kansas and Nebraska. All of this had Denver stripping agencies that had previously ignored me when it came to private parties now wanting me to cover bookings for them as well. Or, more honestly, wanting me to clean up their messes after lying to clients with their bait-and-switch tactics. I didn’t waste much time with these. Instead focusing on booking my own parties while collaborating with the few other like-minded male strippers in the region for male revues that may have been in smaller towns and in less fancy venues but way more fun and profitable than those “prestigious” Denver shows.
But there was one agency that wanted nothing to do with me before or after my emergence as a private party ninja. Not even for its own shitty ripoff male revues. I won’t mention any names. Not because I fear reprisal, as I fear no one, but rather because these people aren’t good enough to be mentioned by name on my website. And I keep the spotlight on me at all times. The only reason I’m writing this is to demonstrate how amazing and untouchable (figuratively speaking) I’ve always been as a male stripper. That said… If you know, you know. And you won’t disagree with me.
So, let’s rename this outfit Dumb Fuck Strippers for our purposes here. Dumb Fuck Strippers, marketed as the “premier” stripping agency in Colorado, was owned and operated by a male stripper we’ll call Wilbur. And, much like me and my long-time agency Hardbodies Entertainment of Arkansas, Wilbur was the undisputed star of Dumb Fuck Strippers. And that’s where the similarities between me and Wilbur end.
He looked the part of a male stripper. At least where basic bitches would be concerned. Possessing a lean and hulking physique. Achieved via massive dosages of anabolic steroids and human growth hormone. Paid for by selling his ass to homosexuals as I heard from multiple and unrelated sources I had no objective reason to doubt. Along with headlining Dumb Fuck Strippers male revues, he also performed with Chippendales. Because he was a perfect fit for that bromantic fag fest. In hindsight, there was definitely a rent boy juicer vibe amongst most of the Dumb Fuck Strippers guys. That couldn’t have been a coincidence. But Wilbur was the undisputed queen of his realm. Part of being Dumb Fuck Strippers “man” was constantly kissing Wilbur’s ass. Having to tell him how stunning and brave he was if you wanted to perform in his male revues and have your base pay stolen through bogus fines. For lunkheads who were desperately seeking basic bitch tail, this was a small price to pay.
But it was Wilbur’s private party performances that made him the worst male stripper ever. Sure, there’s no shortage of one-and-done clowns like this guy who had no business being sent to unsuspecting women by “nationwide” agencies. As well as plenty of “I did that once” male revue performers like Channing Tatum who never did a single party yet dishonestly claim expert status on the subject. No, Wilbur is one of the most prolific private party male strippers of all time. On the same level as me and a small number of other guys. So prolific, in fact, that I encountered women at several parties throughout Arkansas over the years who’d also been in attendance at parties he’d done in Colorado. And the story was always the same: Wilbur would inevitably suffer an emotional meltdown, scream at the audience for not showing him enough appreciation, and storm out. I don’t believe that all of these audiences, if any, were bad. The women who told me these stories were excellent audience members at my parties. Wilbur was seeking affirmation for his low self-esteem. Something he felt entitled to for all the cocks injected into his ass for all the drugs he injected into his body. This supposedly big and powerful man revealing himself to be incredibly small and weak. And, although these party girls were too nice to say, I’m guessing that lack of endowment was also an issue.
It’s laughable now to think about how slighted I felt at the time by Wilbur’s rejection of me. Although I quickly felt better as I achieved success on my own terms while gradually learning the unpleasant truth about him and his outfit. Still, despite my years of stripping triumphs a thousand miles away, my perfectionism had me convinced there were a few strong qualities about Wilbur and Dumb Fuck Strippers worth appropriating for my interests. But I was wrong. I see now that I was always light years beyond Wilbur and the rest of his ilk as an adult entertainer. Fuck, I was already superior to him when I was the pudgy guy in the top photo. Because, even as I was down on how I looked, I knew that I could overcome that if I applied myself. And I never sought affirmation from anyone. From rock and roll to stripping and everything else, it’s always been about unleashing my explosive confidence and energy on audiences to draw their inspiration from and apply it any way they desire. Wilbur only succeeded at taking the fun out of stripping. I succeed at making it more fun than anyone ever imagined. That’s what the girls who’ve seen us each perform told me. And I certainly don’t have to compensate for anything.
Want to see my porn star cock and bubble butt in your face without being screamed at? Leave a voicemail at (501) 291-2734 so we may chat about shifting your upcoming event into overdrive. I currently accept bookings throughout Arkansas and the surrounding areas including Little Rock, Hot Springs, Texarkana, Fayetteville, Fort Smith, Jonesboro, Memphis, and Shreveport.
