There is only one reason why a woman should pole dance: because she is a stripper. A professional exotic dancer. A person who makes their living selling sexual fantasy. These individual's usually work at strip clubs or "Gentleman's Club." They work in varying degrees of undress, from pasties that cover nipples to fully nude.

Their clientele pay top dollar to believe a simple lie: that a beautiful, naked woman he just met could be instantaneously attracted to him. It's not the oldest profession. But it's up there. Dancing naked has to be as ancient a vocation as arms dealing, money lending, or gossip (I could make an argument that Homer was antiquities version of US Weekly, dishing on the foibles and tragedies of the rich, royal, and immortal.)

I am not passing judgment on stripping. I have gone to many dens of inequity in my day. I've been that dude before, drunkenly telling friends "Daisy really likes me!" Then stumbling to the ATM. They can be fun, as they stimulate the parts of the male brain that respond positively to "boobs" and "beer." Strip clubs can also be Temples of the Unhappy. I've also been that dude, his heart half hanging out of a gash in his chest, drinking alone, sitting next to grim and bitter men panting like dogs.

I know why men spend money there. I get it. I recently wrote about a man who spent thousands at a Hootchie Hut.  But don't get me wrong: I'm not a born again prude. Strip clubs can be fun, provided the man is aware that he's paying for a fantasy. Casinos can be fun, too. They become dangerous when you think you can beat the house. Strip clubs are trouble when the guy convinces himself that the stripper is anything but a professional. Guess what? Batman isn't real either.

So we know where we stand. I am writing this lovingly. If I come to your apartment, and there's a stripper pole in your living room or bedroom, you better be a stripper.

I know there are classes out there "empowering" women by teaching them how to faux strip. And plenty of companies out there selling stripper poles that are extremely easy to set up in just about any room. I know why you're doing this. 

Pole dancing isn't exercise. Running is exercise. Aerobics, Pilates, Spinning. These are all exercises. Twirling around a pole can burn calories, but that's just an unintended consequence. Pole dancing also isn't actually dancing. But to be fair, neither is ice skating. Ice skating is about skating on ice. Pole dancing is about male sex organs making a "BOING!" sound.

Pole dancing isn't political either. I mean, many people make it political. Men pay to objectify women. These women choose to debase themselves for money. Men choose to debase themselves by funding what is essentially a mass delusion -- that these women adore instead of despise. Everyone is exploited. You can make any number of moral arguments.

But it seems there always a group of people who want to control who can be naked. The cause doesn't matter. Depending on who you listen to, stripping is either anti-God or anti-woman. It's too bad that this is probably only one topic two political extremes can agree upon.

In a way, I can understand how pole dancing can make you feel good about your body. To many women, strippers are the enemy. Hard-bodied temptresses preying on their men. You can't fight the enemy by becoming the enemy. Try burlesque dancing classes, which is like stripping for women with curves. Only it's dirtier. And more about seduction than selling the fresh produce. Burlesque is sexy, smart, and naughty. It is an upscale answer to something that threatens so many self-esteems.  

I am not sure if men seek out strippers because they are "sexy." So, an average woman learning how to strip or pole dance doesn't automatically make her sexy. Men love strippers because we pay them not to turn us down. 

When a woman has a stripper pole I think: here's a woman who thinks she's being sneaky. She thinks that this will keep her man from going to the strip club to peep fresh, new boobies.

This is not so. If a man consistently chooses the cheap, transparent fantasy of the jiggle joint over his reality, then it doesn't matter what his woman does. This man is lost. He will never be satisfied. The fact of this modern life is this: it is easier and easier to hear what we want to hear and to see what we want her see. I will admit, many men spend their lives loving the one the one that doesn't exist instead of loving the one that does. You just can't remove his head from his own ass.    

But then, there are the rest of us. We're much more redeemable than the magazines say.

Don't sell the men in your life a fantasy.

Be real. Be yourself. Get rid of your stripper pole.