Fun Comes in Many Forms
A little eye candy never hurt anyone.
Illustration by Jake Skalish
Fun is subjective—and I must admit that there are some categories of fun I can’t quite grasp, like a party where someone is selling LuLaRoe leggings or knockoff designer bags. The only time I ever brought money to a party was when we all chipped in for the keg.
I also can’t understand any activity with a creative twist. Wine is fine, but don’t expect me to duplicate van Gogh’s “Starry Night” when I never even mastered stick figures.
There are a handful of things a majority of women can agree are fun. Looking at hot guys has to be one of them—and there’s no need to brave the Schuylkill Expressway through Philadelphia to see some. You’ll find them at Valley Forge Casino Resort, in the form of Steel City Studs and Thunder From Down Under.
Unlike your typical GNO, it seems most ladies require a special reason for this particular pastime. “When I finish nursing school, we have to go,” my friend says. “We’ll bring Kelly, too, because she has a milestone birthday that month.”
Like we need an excuse.
The crowds I’ve witnessed aren’t a bunch of lonely, sex-starved women. Most are there to have a few drinks and spend time with friends—all while enjoying the spectacle of insanely in-shape men and singing along to the Ginuwine striptease staple, “Pony.”
Wait. Aren’t you married?
Yes, and so are a lot of other women in attendance. That doesn’t mean we can’t ogle Kit Harington (yum) on Sunday nights or the guys on stage—who rip through more tank tops than a pro wrestler. Do you honestly think your husband finds no one else attractive?
The “talent” at these shows varies. While the Thunder From Down Under men could be the pool boys in a network soap opera, the Steel City Studs are less Hollywood and more neighborhood hottie. They could be the lifeguards at a country club, eliciting blushes from moms every time they walk by.
Sophisticated women are so over the bachelorette-party standard of the greased-up dude who asks, “Did you order a pizza?” For those of us who appreciate the male form—especially those V-shaped muscles that parenthesize the abs—Magic Mike wasn’t a moment, it was a movement. With his knee-buckling smile, muscular-but-not-too-bulky build, and a chest as smooth and solid as a glacier, Channing Tatum was the ideal—a lofty, unachievable prototype.
I’m here to say that high-quality male entertainment is just the sort of twist some of us crave—if only on special occasions. (Not.)
Katie Bambi-Kohler could’ve easily written this as a long-form poem espousing her love for those V-shaped muscles. Visit her website at www.katiekohler.com.