The redeeming qualities of a strip club

I popped my strip club cherry a couple of weeks ago. I ended up there for the first time as so many others do, drunk and at the suggestion of others who had taken it upon themselves to prevent me from pouring my body into a cab and heading home once I had exceeded my alcohol limit for that evening. Hitting the club at a peak time, albeit on a weeknight (we went after attending a venture capital firm party with an open bar), I have to admit that I was surprised at the low quality of the physical attractiveness of the strippers. Maybe it's because I am straight, but I would have only done one of them if I was straight. The general overall unattractiveness didn't prevent me from copping a feel almost every time a new stripper came on stage. I fully unleashed my inner dirty old man that night and groped plenty of t&a. That being said, I still don't completely understand the desire to become a stripper (other than the money, of course). I would rather turn a legitimate blind eye to creepy men having sexual fantasies about me than try to profit from it and pretending to enjoy that they think of me in that manner frequently. Ignorance is bliss, after all. I do understand the power trip that accompanies the knowledge that the patrons openly want you but can't have you. However, that would not be enough for me. I suppose that I am just not desperate enough...yet.