Page 33 of The Close-Up
Simon brings his fingers to his lips as he whistles and cheers him on. Then he leans to me, his mouth a whisper away from the shell of my ear. “Firemen get you all hot and bothered?”
His warm breath sends a surprise tingle down my neck. I close my eyes for a second, reminding myself that this sensation means nothing. He’s only talking this closely to me because the music is so loud.
“Haha,” I manage.
The crowd goes wild as Freddy drops to his knees and pulls an impressive spin move. I wonder if he’s a dancer.
The server returns with my drink and I thank him as Simon hands over cash. Freddy finishes to enthusiastic cheers and the DJ announces the next contestant, who chooses an R&B slow jam. The crowd clearly loves it, judging by the shouts and hollers.
“Gotta say, I’m surprised you’d want to do this,” I say to Simon, appreciating that I can talk at almost a normal volume since the song is slower.
Simon raises an eyebrow. “Why? Because therapists can’t be into wild stuff like stripping?”
I stammer, my face suddenly hot. “No, I...sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”
“I’m kidding. I get what you mean. It seems more in line with when I cammed, right?”
“Yeah, I suppose. But I didn’t mean it in that way, I swear. I just meant that the stereotype is that the younger you are, the more willing you are to do wilder things.”
“I see that. I consider myself a pretty uninhibited person most of my life, but the thought of performing at a strip club when I was younger freaked me out. I think I had to gain some confidence before I could be secure enough to want to try something like this. Now that I’m in my thirties, I feel a lot more sure of myself.”
“Really?”
He nods.
“Actually, wait a sec.” I pull out my phone. “This is really great stuff you’re saying. Can I film it so I can include it in episode two of the series?”
Simon says of course.
“So how would you reconcile these things that you do? What would you say to people who would criticize you for being a therapist who also wants to participate in amateur night at a strip club?”
“I’m a sex-positive person. I always have been and I always will be. And I don’t think there’s anything wrong with pursuing things that you enjoy, as long as they’re safe and you’re not hurting anyone. No matter how off-the-wall they seem—no matter what other people think.
“And I’d tell anyone who would criticize that to stop and examine why they feel the need to shame anyone for doing something that’s perfectly safe and legal. Fine if you don’t want to do something, but why do you feel the need to judge others who do? I think there are a lot of people who are quick to shame others who do things that they find unusual. But they criticize because there’s something in their background that makes them feel insecure or uncomfortable or ashamed. And if that’s the case, I encourage those people to dig deep and explore that feeling. Figure out why you started assigning shame and disgust to certain activities. Once you understand why you do something, you can figure out how to stop doing it. And you can start learning how to be more open about things instead of judging them for their perceived value or stigma.”
I nod along enthusiastically at everything Simon is saying. I also take a moment to admire just how much his belief system aligns with his public work persona. Loads of people act one way publicly and are totally different behind closed doors. Not Simon, though. There’s a genuineness he possesses that’s so evident whether he’s in a therapy session, presenting a seminar, or on a night out with a friend—like he’s living the words he preaches to his clients about always striving to be uninhibited and vulnerable.
“And I also want to show that you can be a multifaceted person who excels in a field while having lots of different interests,” he says. “It’s a good thing to be open to new experiences.”
“Like a therapist who kicks ass at amateur night at a strip club.”
He grins. “Exactly. I admit, it took me a while to get to this point. We all have to confront those insecurities and biases that we internalize. I mean, when I was in my twenties, I was totally comfortable having sex on a webcam, but I couldn’t take my clothes off onstage in front of a few dozen strangers.”
His expression turns the slightest bit sheepish. I rest my hand over his arm. “I don’t think that’s weird at all. Those are two totally different scenarios. I mean, when you were camming, you were able to control so much about it. It was just you and your partner in a room. Yeah, people were watching, but I’m sure that felt a bit removed in a way. Like, because you couldn’t see the viewers, it maybe took a bit of the pressure off. But it was still exciting because you were sharing the act with an audience, but on your own terms. A venue like this is totally different. You’re right there in front of all these people. They’re watching you as you perform just a few feet away—and you can see them, feel them watching you.”
Simon stares at me, his mouth open slightly.
“Oh crap, sorry! I hope I didn’t just freak you out about performing just now.”
It’s a second before that dazed look in his eyes disappears. He shakes his head. “No, not at all. I just...you described how it feels perfectly. It’s like you read my mind.”
“Oh.”
I play with the straw in my drink, feeling weirdly giddy that I’m so good at articulating Simon’s feelings when we’ve only known each other a few weeks.
Just then the DJ announces performer number three, who looks like a preppy country club boy. He jumps onstage and starts grooving to some rap song I don’t recognize as he unbuttons his shirt.
Simon points at him. “That guy is definitely your type.”
