Magic Mike Madness

Last week the movie Magic Mike hit theaters across America, bringing Channing Tatum's abs and Matthew McConaughey's tush to the masses of menopausal women who have been waiting patiently through slasher movies' boob bonanzas for a movie bound to show a chunk of man meat. Rather, dare I be so brazen, countless women were holding out for a little full frontal male nudity not involving Michael Fassbender. I mean, we have been there, done that, and womankind thanks you Mikey, but you just don't shake it like Channing does. And so on the morning I opened box office the first day of what I am now calling Magic Mike Madness, I prepared myself mentally for cranky woman and flamboyant gay men all day. No sort of mental adjustment or exercise could have braced me for what I encountered that day and the days that followed. To say I opened the door to the box office to find women clawing at the glass drooling "CHANNNNIIINNGGG....AAAABBBSSSS..BUUUTTTT!" would be an exaggeration. I did however have one elderly woman joke with me about running over to Spencer's Novelty and Gift Shop to buy her own "Vibrating Magic Mike" for the show, to which I almost lost my morning's cheerios, and another woman told me she would like to butter up Matthew McConaughey instead of her popcorn to munch on for a snack.

I am in no way claiming to be better or above these women, being as I myself couldn't wait to clock off and go be the creeper who sits through the stripper movie by herself because she couldn't wait a week to go with the flock of female friends bound to want to see it. I do however marvel at the effect feminism has had on culture in the last century, let alone the last fifty years, and wonder what kind of effect it has had on me personally. To think that my generation is one of the first to be able to openly explore our sexuality and define or womanhood publicly is mind boggling. But despite my new found rights and expectations, I still insist on remaining prude, sweet, lil ol' me. Some things are best kept behind closed doors, and I don't care how comfortable I become with myself or others, I can never foresee myself not blushing if a man is gyrating rapidly on a huge screen in front of me. Despite my extremely perverted sense of humor (curse you mom) I live a fairly prude and modest life, and really see no need to change that in the near or distant future. So while there may be too many dirty jokes about male strippers and their "poles" for me to count in my head, I know that my actions will never exceed more than an extreme blush and a tentative muffled catcall, only voiced out of courteous appreciation for the dancer.

Anyhoot, back to Magic Mike Madness. So the first day was definitely the worst. And after I'd seen what all the hype was about, I was able to appreciate the women's excitement, and more accurately judge their level of insanity as they exited the establishment. For instance, walking out of that theatre saying that is the best movie you have ever seen makes you pretty coocoocachu in my opinion, and am wondering what your movie going experiences have been in the past. If that's the case your movie views must be limited to Nicholas Cage and Katie Holmes films, you poor thing. Also, at no point is the movie interactive, so whilst doing theater checks I should not see you dancing in the aisles and grinding on the seats (yup, that happened), nor should i find popcorn strewn through out the whole row as if you were using it as confetti. It is not a kids movie, so I don't care how into it you get, you are not a 4 year old so the theatre should be left neater then the sold out auditorium of Brave.

After The Madness died down a bit, I figured my female customers would become more dignified and easy to serve. Boy was I wrong. Its like every woman I help has waited too long to see this movie, and therefore decides to take it out on me. I am the one thing standing between the hordes of horny women and Channing Tatum's pelvis. I am slowly adjusting to the bouts of hotflash induced rage and sexually frustrated sass I have been receiving from my customers, but still I wonder if its all worth it. Because, despite seeing more than our fair share of boobs in Magic Mike, we never actually do get the full monty  from any of these fine specimen. Honestly, I could go without seeing any ones junk, male or female ever. My friends even joke about how I'm a "Never Nude" since I prefer to think everyone just showers in their clothes. I, however, am clearly the minority, and on behalf of horny women without a complex, when you show up to a male stripper movie, you  totally expect to see some man meat. So really, all I have to say is- What a double standard Hollywood! You'd think if women are allowed and willing to show up for the show, you'd at least give them some kind of pay off. Nude women are found in pretty much every movie ever made despite its appropriateness, but unless you cast Michael Fassbender or Louis C.K. to your cast good luck getting a wiener shot in your show. My solution to this problem would be go back to I Love Lucy days where married couples slept in separate beds, then no one sees anything. But since I am sure I am out voted I pose a question of how long will it take before our culture takes the next step and simply embraces the male sex organ on the big screen? And yes, I meant for it to sound like that;)