This morning I read about Brad Pitt walking out of the screening of Bruce Almighty because he couldn't stand watching his beloved Jennifer Aniston making onscreen whoopee with Jim Carrey. It's the kind of thing that leaves you shaking your head and wondering, why the hell is Brad Pitt so insecure that he would worry about Jim Carrey?

Regardless of the answer, I can understand how he feels (not that I'm in any way comparing myself, or anyone I know, to Brad Pitt, but still… ), I would hate to see my beloved making love to anyone else, scripted or not.

I will admit this even though it's something I am not proud of—I have had problems going to strip clubs, especially with boyfriends.

The reason why? Jealousy.

Out of all the seven deadly sins, envy is the one that has gripped and tortured me the most. And while envy and jealousy may enjoy differences a bit broader than mere semantics, and even though a strip club is much different than a love scene (or it's supposed to be), I still feel that evil green monster grabbing at my heartstrings whenever I think of my sweetie having some stripper shake her tits and/or ass at him.

And even though my partner assures me that he has never been turned on at a strip club—and I've been with him and can attest to this fact—it still bugs the hell out of me. I do have to admit that some are worse than others. At some strip clubs it feels like its still taboo for women to even be there. There is such a "men only" vibe that most strip clubs give out; in fact it's so pervasive that more clubs than not feel this way, so when a strip club actually feels like it welcomes women, well, that's almost a story in itself.

Moreover, though, it's the boyfriend factor that prevents me from enjoying strip clubs most of the time. If I'm out on the town with a bunch of bi girlfriends, I actually can get carried away and have as much fun as anyone. But when it's just me and the boyfriend (especially a boyfriend whose nice and I like, and I mention this because they haven't all been worthy of such a distinction), those intense feelings of jealousy boil up inside of me.

But this past week my job had me sitting at a table at SF's newest strip club, Broadway Showgirls Cabaret. And while the girls are actually better looking here than in most of the dives in North Beach, they somehow seemed less threatening. They almost seemed invisible.

Maybe it was because I was sitting with the flaming gay chef, my assistant and their publicist, as well as my boyfriend, that I could find it so non-threatening. Or maybe it was the fact that we were all more concentrated on crab cakes than the stripper pole. Or that the girls could sense the "back off, we're working" vibe that surrounded our table (because none approached us).

I don't know the answer but I didn't feel especially jealous at all. The fact was, I actually kind of enjoyed myself, which was nice.

And don't start with the of-course-you-shouldn't-feel-threatened, because just for one second pretend that your wife/girlfriend/significant other was out all night drinking and watching genetically enhanced men take their clothes off, before pulling her into a "private" booth for a "private" lap dance. Honestly, wouldn't that bother you just a teensy bit?

The other thing that really bothers me about strip clubs is: Why do you want to go to strip club when I'm right here?

Many women I've talked to tell me that may be the number one thing that they think whenever their loved one has gone to pay to watch a woman undress. Am I not good enough? Do you need that extra fantasy outlet? That's what's going through my mind. So what the hell is going through yours?

No answer is really going to be the right answer for everyone, but one thing you should never do in a situation like this is lie. If you and your partner like to go out and get lap dances, more power to you. But these are my feeling, and I'm entitled to them. And you know what? So is my boyfriend. And, for that matter, so is Brad Pitt.