Lovin' and Losin'

What do folks leave behind at S.F. sex clubs? We knew you'd want to know.

But 333 Linden is a preemie compared to the other clubs, and its lost-and-found is empty. Before departing, however, we manage to slip our number to Adrian for a follow-up interview. Or a cocktail.

Now, don't think we forgot the Power Exchange at 74 Otis in SOMA, which caters to gays and straights of both genders. We were unable to connect with any employees to discuss the finer aspects of their three-story sex palace. We did encounter a doorman named Eric, but he'd neither talk to us about the club's lost-and-found nor look us directly in the eye. In fact, his shiftiness worried us. And with night falling in a less than safe neighborhood, we thought it best to scram.

So we end our journey in a state of perplexity. Why would people abandon books, false teeth, and a Members Only jacket at a sex club, especially since most clubs provide lockers? With our unsightly chest hair and bright white body, we would be too self-conscious and acutely aware of everything going on around us to forget anything.

The answer, of course, is drugs. Our friend, local artist and sex club authority Tyler Ingolia, breaks it down for us, explaining, "Child, they're all tweaked out; they just do [drugs] before going in. They say it's a drug-free environment, but most people who go there are fucked up before getting there anyway." And dope-addled people aren't particularly good at remembering where they put their stuff.

The Internet may be cutting into their trade, but sex clubs are likely to be with us as long as there are people willing to pay to get peed on. In the end, though, our tour of the clubs leaves us feeling a bit unfulfilled. We didn't leave anything behind, but something's still missing. Maybe it's that we just didn't get any.

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