Love 'em or leave 'em alone

This picture of Cleveland Cavaliers guard Larry Hughes, taken at a recent party thrown by Nelly, has been making the rounds all over the Internet today, and it's quite troubling for me. Some may question Hughes' ethics, considering that he missed Games 3 through 6 of his team's playoff series with the Pistons to mourn the death of his younger brother Justin, who was born with a heart defect and had been sick for some time -- and a little over a week after his team's elimination, his "grieving" process appears to have changed considerably. But I won't hold that against Larry, as this situation is nothing like Vince Carter in his Toronto Raptor days being seen C-walking on stage at a Nelly concert while rehabbing a leg injury. True story.

What I'm disturbed by is the "I Heart Strippers" tee that Hughes is sporting, which I'm fearing is going to catch on with the public. It was bad enough when "rappa turnt sanga" T-Pain put out that awful "I'm In Luv Wit A Stripper" song, forever altering many a car stereo and cell phone ringer nationwide, and it got worse when he put out the remix with some of the biggest self-proclaimed pimps and macks in urban music -- Too Short, Pimp C, MJG, Twista, R. Kelly -- professing their equally undying love to the women who take their clothes off for money. Oh yea, and this clown was on the remix, too.


No, you dont.

All of this is adding up to what has become an awful trend -- men proclaiming that they love and/or are in love with a stripper and/or multiple strippers. Not only that, but it's being stated as if it's a good thing. As if it's something positive. Something to brag about. It's not. Being in love with a stripper is a terrible feeling that will lead to a lot of emotional self-reflection in the future. Take my experience, for example, which I posted in September of last year -- here's the abridged version of "Summer Recap, Pt. 2" a.k.a. "I Fell In Love With A Stripper Named Genesis". The setting is the Sapphire in Las Vegas, which has gotten some mention here before:

"Having cold lamped for a little while, I decided to take up a lapdance offer soon, and that's when she arrived. Now, I'm not too sure how to define 'too pretty to be a stripper', and I try not to use terms that I don't know the definition of, but this girl was just that. She says her (stripper) name is Genesis, like that one red-haired chick from a many-years-ago season of 'The Real World', or the video game system that was to my elementary school years what the PS2 is to my college years. She asks what brought me to Vegas, I tell her I turned 21 this month ('this month' being August), and she says she did too, no less than 5 days prior to my birthday. Then she starts her lapdance, and, well, it wasn't very good. She wasn't really 'on' my lap most of the time, often just kind of flirting from a distance, showing me stuff; as far as past lapdances go, this one was nowhere near the 'City of Industry Rubdown', nor as good as the 'Bel Air Surprise'. But the badness of it in lapdance standards was what made it good; this pretty-ass girl was just flirting with me, and after blocking out the fact that I now have $20 less than I had 5 minutes ago (a feeling you quickly get used to in Vegas), I actually enjoyed it quite a bit. Young, pretty, flirtatious, a Leo, and her name reminded me of 'Altered Beast' -- what more could I ask for in a woman?"

Maybe one who'll put out and not use you for money, perhaps. Now, don't get me wrong, I still appreciate strip clubs and what strippers do, but getting "love" caught up with it is taking it a bit too far. I've learned from the past that once you tell a woman you love her, she's likely to do less for you than before you uttered those words. So what's it's worth to tell a stripper you love her? A less-inspired lap dance? Is that what you want, Larry? And how are you going to feel when this latest "love of your life" hops off your lap to get $20 from some other dude, T-Pain, IF THAT'S EVEN YOUR REAL NAME??

To conclude, I'll quote myself once more -- "Conversations with strippers shouldn't go any farther than 'What's your name?' and 'How much?'". And if I hear anything more about people who have probably forgotten about more girls than I've ever even been with talking about how they're falling in love with some chick based on what they'll do for a few bills, I'm going to be sick.