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A comic walks into a sex club…

Deborah Kimmett

Deborah Kimmett

I was teaching a creative writing workshop recently and on the break, I asked one attendee what she did for a living, to which she replied, “I own a sex club.”

Not an answer I was expecting. Especially from this woman. She looked like a librarian.

Immediately, I put on my ‘ pseudo sincere’ face.

It’s a face I stole from my therapist who no matter what shocking things I told her I had done she would look at me non-plussed.

You could tell her, “I killed my boyfriend and cut him up in tiny pieces and put him in a freezer,” and she would put a finger to her lips and nod her head and say, “I see. I see.”

This look does two things: 1) It gives me time so I can figure out what I feel or think. And 2) I can check in with my reality. As a comic, I might be making it up.

But, I was not making this up. She told me this over a bran muffin. (Yes, I remember what kind of muffin she was eating.) She told me that this club was where members would come to have sex with people they just met. Some people like to watch and be watched. Some came as a date night. Others came in in on their lunch hours of after work for a “real happy hour”. Most people walk around naked. Most people had fun. After all who didn’t like sex?

As she droned on, my brain tuned her out. I was wildly trying to land on what opinion I had about said club. My left and right brain were having a war. The left was saying it’s no worse than going into a bar and picking up a stranger. The right was screaming, how could you have sex, sober with someone that you just met?

Both sides had so many questions. Why do you have to be naked? Where is the mystery in that? Then I thought of an old joke my father used to tell: “Two guys were looking over the fence at a woman in a nudist club and one guy says to the other, ‘Wouldn’t you like to see her in a sweater?’ ”

And, what if you got to the club and realized you weren’t in the mood, would it be kosher to say, “I’ve got a headache” or would your membership be revoked?

And what exactly would the membership initiation into a sex club be? Would you have to be able to fake a good orgasm?

I hear her say “And one of the fun rooms has a Shaggin’ wagon.”

“A what?”

“You know? A van, where you can ‘get it on’ like you did in your teens.”

When I was a teen, I got it on in a van but my body was young and agile and had jeans on.

Almost reading my mind because she said, “There are a lot of older men there, too,” like this was a selling feature for me.

Left brain: Why does she think I would want to see some older men naked?
Right brain: Why would she think older men would want to see you naked?

Together: That’s why people play Bridge.

She continued, “You should come in and check it out sometime. I could leave you a pass.”

“Oh God, no.” I think I yelled this. “No. No. No. I am a prude. I close the curtains when I watch Sex and The City reruns. I shower in the dark.”

“It’s perfectly safe,” she said, adding that the staff disinfects the play rooms after each orgy.

“Oh God,” Yup. I was yelling. “There isn’t enough Purel in the world for me to have group sex. Not only am I a prude, I’d be walking around disinfecting people while they were “getting it on.”

“You’re funny. Maybe we could hire you to perform.”

“Me? Are you kidding me? Me in a sex club! That’s hilarious.” I started laughing, hard. I could just see it. Instead of me picturing them naked they really would be naked.

This conversation is still cracking me up. In fact I can lie in bed and write this blog and get as much entertainment value from not walking into a sex club, as I would if I had gone in.

She took her job quite seriously. The way a sex librarian would. She didn’t crack a smile. In fact, she put her muffin down looking rather hurt.

“I was serious.”

My face went neutral. I put on my face. I put my finger to my lips and said, “I see. I see.”

“You better not tell anybody this,” she added, not remembering that someone called Google had already heard of her.

“No. No. Mum’s the word. Are you done with that muffin?”

* * *
– Deborah Kimmett is a Second City veteran, a regular performer on CBC’s radio and television show “The Debaters” and a sought-after motivativational speaker. She engages her audiences with stories and killer humour that ignite, inspire and energize. Visit her web site at to get more information on her writing bootcamps, one-on-one writing coaching and toolkits, incluidng the DIY DIGITAL KIT: THE SEVEN MINUTE WRITER full of podcasts, writing exercises, and powerful pep talks that will unlock the writers blocks and get the creative juices flowing.

Kimmett is also co-host of the podcast ‘The Hope For Today Cafe’, with Robert Hawke. Click to visit the Cafe on Facebook

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