Speaking of …

… gatekeeping and velvet ropes.

A friend of mine from my days in the club business wrote this a while back … perhaps not the most eloquent expression, but there’s validity sprinkled within:

“Speaking of fulfillment, the act of entry into a club is sexually charged and strikingly similar to the physical act of penetration.  The club, a dark warm soothing place, is clearly representative of the womb.  The patrons, descending en masse, often with a frenzied fervor to get in, are the sperm trying frantically to enter the uterus, however, resting firmly in between the two are the velvet ropes and security, the woman’s diaphragm and spermicide, respectively. The remaining variable in this equation is the doorman, who in true egocentric fashion plays God.

In this light it is easy to understand the rush of adrenaline as you approach the club door, to attempt penetration, and you must face the wrath of an individual whose power will determine the course of your night and possibly the course of human events.  This could be the night you meet your significant other and standing there between you and your eternal bliss is Saint Peter at the gates with a six second visual judgement.  No wonder some need to defend their honor and justify their very existence. Is it any wonder that the rejected become so irate?

The satisfaction would definitely not be there if everyone got in. The thrill then for many is the initial act of penetration.  In this way clubs provide an adventure and physiological fulfillment.  In fact there are those who linger at the door taunting those excluded and displaying their sexual prowess in a ceremony of bondage (this heeled out by the rope) and domination (those who have conquered). Perhaps one of those reasons lounges have become so successful is because n one wants to pay much to get into a club (i.e. no one wants to pay for sexual penetration) because it is psychologically disturbing.”