Let's talk about dive bars. . . again. Last week I described how I fell in love with Midwood Country Club from the moment I almost fell into the patio. Instead of the venue being an actual country club, I had stumbled upon a dive bar and couldn't have asked for more. Why? Beause I'm smack in the middle of a major dive bar phase, at the moment.

There's just something about the rinky-dink feel of a divey spot that's dimly lit, lacking in "matching" décor, serving cheap drinks and maybe even smelling of mold. Those are the spots that you'll meet people from all walks of life. You may not feel comfortable or like you're "at home" at first, but then the next thing you know, you're a "regular."

I recently visited one of my favorite dive bars for the first time in a while: Smokey Joe's Cafe.

And you know how I know I've gotten to the point where I feel completely comfortable there? I went all by my lonesome.

The first time I'd heard anything about Smokey Joe's, I was actually across the street at East African Cuisine. I noticed the little hole-in-the-wall and chopped it up as a biker bar I'd probably never visit. A week later, one of my friends who lived in the area asked a couple of us to meet her "at this spot on Monroe [Road]" for drinks after work. I was shocked when I pulled up to the unassuming building where I'd just convinced myself I'd never go.

Little did I know, it would become one of my favorite places to get weird.

And honestly, that's one of the best ways to describe it: weird. The layout of the patio doesn't make much sense. There's sand beneath the ping pong table outside. There are a few fire pits, maybe even a TV? You may stumble walking on the uneven ground before stepping inside. Renovations? Yeah right.

There are tchotchkes everywhere with no clear connection between any of them. There's even a waterfall in a nook in the ceiling – where does the water go exactly? But that's what gives the spot so much character. There's no rhyme or reason for the random items, decorations or mismatching furniture and yet it's just as cozy as can be. Not to mention, the drinks are stiff and cheap.

When I returned recently, I had the pleasure of catching a live show on the stage tucked in the back corner to the left and I fell in love all over again. Shana Blake and Friends perform at Smokey Joe's every Thursday. Blake, the lead singer, has a voice that will captivate you and her "friends" are ridiculously talented on each of their instruments of choice. I sat on a church pew, yes a church pew, and watched them perform while sipping a whiskey and coke.

Yikes, the first sip stung and I was tempted to go back to the bar and ask for a splash more of coke! But my mother didn't raise no punk, so I powered through.

When the show was over, I went outside to sit by one of the fire pits. I made it through that first drink so I thought I'd have one more.

Blake came outside to chat with some of the regulars and I just knew I had to tell her how beautiful her voice was. So I did. She was very sweet, which sometimes is hard to come by, even for local musicians.

I finished up my drink and decided it was time for me to go. As I was walking out, however, I noticed a hot dog stand right out front. "Don't tempt me with a good time," I thought to myself as I reached into my pocket for some cash.

Talk about topping off a great night. Live music at my favorite spot and a hot dog for the road.

The next day, I told everyone about how great they sounded and made them commit to coming back. And it's funny, I randomly went to Thomas Street Tavern the following Wednesday, and there she was performing inside! I doubt she recognized me, but in my more-than-tipsy stupor I remember saying, "Hey girl!" as I jammed out in my recently borrowed matching velour Michael Kors jumpsuit! *gasp* Nevertheless, it was a little reminder of my little dive bar nestled on Monroe Road.

I think I'll create a bucket list of dive bars across Charlotte and maybe even cross over into South Carolina. Tell me, where should I go?

When you hear the words "country club," what comes to your mind? Golf. Old white men. Pretentious attitudes. Khakis and a button up.

Those phrases represent my most censored way of describing a space that, in certain circles, is viewed as the "good ol' boys' club." I know, I know, #hatersgonnahate, right?

Nevertheless, according to Google: a country-club is a privately owned club, often with a membership quota and admittance by invitation or sponsorship, that generally offers both a variety of recreational sports and facilities for dining and entertaining. *insert Quinta B's "he got money!"*

Now that we've gotten logistics out of the way, let's talk about Midwood Country Club (MCC).

Have you heard of it? I legit just started hearing about MCC within the last few months, and after all of the hooplah surrounding "memberships" in Charlotte almost two years ago, the last thing I was focused on was joining a country club and paying any more than $1 for a membership. Little did I know...

This past weekend I discovered that one of my boo's friend's partner worked at MCC and the crew was going to go.

By this point, I'd asked quite a few people who'd mentioned the spot what to expect. I'd imagined an upper echelon Charlotte nightlife venue: picture Fahrenheit or The Punch Room. A dimly lit room, deep red rugs, a cigar room and maybe a pool table.

I remember a friend asking me if I wanted to come with them and I responded, "No, I'm not dressed for that type of occasion."

They responded with a giggle but if I knew then what I know now it would make complete sense why they wore a face of confusion.

But I digress. Saturday I was drinking butterflies away at "the new-ish" Jackalope Jack's in Plaza Midwood with one of my friends.

That same friend was supposed to pick me up and accompany me to this month's Sofar Sounds secret live music gig, but alas, he fell asleep. So there we were getting lit before I was off to meet my boo thang who would soon be heading to MCC.

I looked up Midwood Country Club on my GPS and, even though I was pretty sure I could make the walk from Jack's, I decided to err on the side of caution since I wasn't 100 percent confident I knew where the venue was.

My Uber drove past Resident Culture Brewing and there it was. Immediately, I had Thirsty Beaver dive bar patio vibes. There was a post-and-chain situation happening outside cordoning off the patio but I didn't see this at first and had the stars not aligned and a fine, young gentleman alert me, I would've have cleared. that. patio. out!

Upon entry, I couldn't believe I'd stressed myself out about the "expectations for attire." This was no country club at all. If giving this divey watering hole-meets-sports bar the name "country club" wasn't a middle finger to "the man" and the "good ol' boys," I don't know what was, and I fell in love.

We were post-snowpocalypse so, as you can imagine, there weren't very many people inside the bar. In fact, the only features I noted in the spacious venue were a covered bar to the left, a few high-top tables, a TouchTunes and a couple pool tables.

And yet, the dive vibe was something I could get down with.

Later, I learned that not only was I late to the party hearing about Midwood Country Club, I was over three years late to be exact.

That's right, it's been open since 2014. I clutched my pearls in shock and awe that I could call myself a nightlife guru and yet, hadn't stumbled upon this spot right around the corner from everything I call home.

Not to mention, as is the case with most divey joints around Charlotte, I could tell in less than an hour that this spot has its own regular characters.

Just like the Corner Pub has regular passersby like Will and "Pretty Eyes" that add the seasoning that makes CP everything that it is, I can't wait to discover who those gems are at MCC.

I christened one of my new favorite spots when I accidentally took over TouchTunes and played my favorite Lil' Wayne song "Lollipop." And now that stuttering chorus that anyone and everyone recognizes will always be connected in my mind with my late discovery of a new favorite country club for the real "good ol' boys" (and girls).

Side note: I see a "must-see dive bar" list in the near future, faithful followers.

I'm a professional dominatrix, and I thought I'd seen everything in the last five years. But this situation completely baffled the entire dungeon. This middle-aged guy, seemingly in fine health, booked an appointment with me and my colleague for one hour of some very light play and a golden shower to finish off with. We did no CBT, no cock rings, no trauma to the dick area at all, no ass play, no sounding or catheters, no turbulent masturbation, nothing that could have caused this reaction. We brought him into the bathroom, and he laid down on his back, jerking off with a condom on his penis as my buddy was standing over him and peeing and I was saying all kinds of mean/encouraging sentiments and closely observing his progress. He came and... it was entirely blood. It looked like he shat into his condom, through his penis. He did not seem alarmed or in pain. He took off his condom himself, so he was aware of the situation. He did not remark on it to either of us! He made ZERO effort to prepare either of us, either. And it was not a little blood in his ejaculate — it was entirely blood. He has never returned. Is this person a monster or a vampire? Is he dying? Seriously.

-Mistress Echo

P.S. I went back to the bathroom with gloves on and removed the used condom from the trash and took a photo. It's the only way to communicate just how much blood there was.

"You can tell Mistress Echo that her client was not a monster or a vampire, and he is likely not dying anytime soon," said Dr. Stephen H. King, a board-certified urologist. "What she observed is a person with hematospermia, meaning blood in the semen."

While the sight is alarming — I'll never be able to scrape that photo off the back of my eyeballs, thanks — Dr. King assures me that it's nothing to worry about, as hematospermia is almost always benign. And even if you had done ball play or rough CBT (cock and ball torture), or if he engaged in solo CBT prior to the session, it's unlikely that kind of play would result in a condom full of blood.

"The vast majority of the semen actually comes from the prostate and the seminal vesicles, which are located deep in the pelvis just behind and below the bladder, respectively," said Dr. King. "Very little of the ejaculate fluid actually originates from the testicles," which primarily pump out hormones and sperm cells. "The prostate gland and seminal vesicles (also glands) store up the fluids and can become overdistended with long periods of abstinence and prone toward micro tearing and bleeding in this circumstance."

Blowing regular loads doesn't just lower your risk for prostate cancer, as multiple studies have shown, it also lowers your risk for filling condoms with blood and alarming your friendly neighborhood pro-Dom. Two good reasons for draining those balls, guys — and other people with balls because, as the Book of Tumblr teaches us, not all guys have balls and not all balls have guys.

"Also, these glands are lined by smooth muscle that contracts to force out the fluid [during ejaculation]," Dr. King continued. "If the force of contraction is excessive — a fucking great orgasm — this may lead toward rupture of some of the surrounding blood vessels and blood will enter the semen."

Your client's blasé reaction is a good indication that he's experienced this previously, ME, because most guys who see blood in their semen — or only blood when they expected to see semen — freak the fuck out.

"In my practice, most guys who see blood in their ejaculate the first time are sufficiently freaked out to seek immediate medical attention, and their doctors usually tell them this isn't something to worry about — unless it persists," said Dr. King. "In cases where the hematospermia persists, gets worse, or is associated with other symptoms such as pain, difficulty urinating, or general health decline, medical attention is definitely recommended."

Back to your client, ME: If blood loads have happened to him before (hence the blasé reaction), proper etiquette dictates that he should have said something to you about it afterward ("I'm fine, no biggie"). If it happens to him regularly, he should have warned you in advance — at least that's what it says in my imaginary edition of Emily Post's Etiquette.

I'm an old guy, 68 years old to be exact. (Also a Scorpio, if that matters.) I've always been a pretty horny person, and I had a lot of fun from the 1960s through the 1980s with a number of lovers. I figured that as I got older, my horniness would lessen and I could think about something other than pussy. Trouble is, I don't seem to be less horny. I find myself attracted to women in their 30s or 40s, but I wonder how I appear to them. I don't want to make an utter fool of myself by making an unwanted advance — but the truth is, I'm still pretty hot to trot. What do I do?

-Not Ready For The Nursing Home

You could see sex workers (quickest fix), you could look for women in their 30s or 40s who are attracted to guys pushing 70 (gerontophilia is a thing), you could date women in their 50s or 60s with a youthful appearance and/or attitude (there are lots out there, NRFTNH, and they often gather in groups to complain about how men their age are only interested in much younger women), or you could do all of the above. But you shouldn't regard moving into a nursing home as the end of your sex life, NRFTNH. I'm constantly reading news reports about sexually transmitted disease epidemics in nursing homes and retirement communities. People may not like to think about the elderly having sex — and the elderly apparently don't think about protection (or they're denied access to it) — but lots of old fuckers are still fucking. (And, as astrology is bullshit, NRFTNH, being a Scorpio doesn't matter. It never has and it never will.)

My husband has a foot fetish. The feel of his tongue between my toes when he "worships" my feet doesn't arouse me in the least. Rather, it feels like I'm stepping on slugs in the garden barefoot. Our sex life is fine otherwise. I resolved to grin (or grimace) and bear this odd aspect of his sexuality before we married, but I cannot continue to do so. When I told him this, he asked to be allowed to attend "foot model" parties. There wouldn't be intercourse, but he would pleasure himself in the presence of these foot models (and other males!). This would, in my opinion, violate our monogamous commitment and our marriage vows. I enjoy your podcast and I know you often advocate for open relationships. But you also emphasize your respect for monogamy and the validity of monogamous commitments. We are at an impasse. Please advise.

-Throwing Off Expectations

While "love unconditionally" sounds nice, TOE, monogamy was a condition of yours going into this marriage (and a valid one), and being able to express this aspect of his sexuality was a stated or implicit condition of his (and, yes, an equally valid one). If you're going to unilaterally alter the terms and conditions of your marriage, TOE, then you'll need to reopen negotiations and come to a new agreement with your husband, one that works for both of you. (Jesus, lady, let him go to the fucking party!)

On the Lovecast, Dan chats with Cecile Richards, president of Planned Parenthood: savagelovecast.com; follow @fakedansavage on Twitter; mail@savagelove.net; go to ITMFA.org.

It's the worst time of the year for us Queen City nightlife rabble rousers. Panthers season is officially over, meaning no more Sunday Funday Game Days for us. Hell, we might even walk into the office on Monday bright eyed and bushy tailed, ready to be productive.

OK, let's be honest, that's not going to happen.

While I may be licking my wounds over the end of the best reason to start drinking before many people are out of church, I can at least fondly look back at the end of this year's Panthers season and say, "I found myself a new Charlotte drinkery."

It was about a month ago, after a Panthers' win against the Green Bay Packers, that I first stumbled into one of my new favorite Uptown spots. After the game and many, many drinks, someone had the fine idea that we should brave the cold to check out one of the newest additions to the local nightlife scene – The Daily Tavern.

The venue had only been open for a week but a few friends had already checked it out. They were the experienced ones, and if they were game, I was game. I went to the website and read their welcome: "A refined watering hole with a nod to the modern day hangout. A cozy interior with a laid-back patio serving up a diverse selection of craft beers and cocktails along with some tasty American fare. A place that invites you to settle in and relax for a while." Hmmm, that was good enough for me.

Located on North Church Street in the Fifth Third Center, The Daily has taken over the space that was previously known as Dillinger's Taproom, which closed in April 2014. While I didn't get a chance to check out Dillinger's, based on what I've seen online, The Daily has made quite a few updates that contribute to its unique atmosphere. And it won't come as a surprise to anyone who visits that the project is backed by the same team that operates Connolly's Irish Pub, Prohibition, Dandelion Market, Tyber Creek Pub and the Workman's Friend.

The daily's dim lighting and spacious design calls back to its predecessors throughout Uptown, South End and Plaza Midwood. That in mind, The Daily seems like it will integrate into Charlotte nightlife quite nicely.

Naturally, the first thing I wanted to take a look at was the food menu. After taking a long hiatus from gnocchi, I recently fell in love with the sweet potato version at Dandelion Market. So when I first visited The Daily, I was dead set on one particular menu item: crab and bacon gnocchi.

There were a few other features that caught my eye, such as beef jerky, white cheddar biscuits and the pot pie. However, there weren't many menu items that were actually available during our visit – as was the case on other occasions as well, based on the complaints of some of our other friends. Blame it on beginner's luck or locally sourced ingredients, but I would imagine the kinks in food availability have been ironed out over the past month.

There were two patio areas located off the main dining area. The one in the front faces toward the street and offers a brighter space for dining in their relaxed atmosphere. The other, toward the rear of the dining space, is primarily designed for visitors who want to enjoy a cigarette while standing around high top tables and one of my favorites: heaters to keep the cold at bay for consistently chilly patrons like myself.

Fortunately, they actually had the crab and bacon gnocchi for us to try. I mean, who wouldn't want crab and bacon together?! The pungent aroma of parmesan may have thrown us off at first, but after tasting the dish, we were impressed. Someone else in our group had ordered The Daily Mac — a house-ground double burger with jack cheese, LOP and a sesame seed bun with a side of shoestring fries. Based on how quickly he scarfed down the burger, it was apparent that this menu item was also a hit.

Wondering about the libations? While I've been on a whiskey-and-coke kick over the past few weeks, The Daily has quite an impressive cocktail menu that begged me to expand my recently narrowed tastes.

The long bar extends almost across the entirety of the venue and features over 20 draft beers, liquor by the shot, wine and craft cocktails for $12 a piece. Of the cocktails featured, the Old School seems most up my alley: Bulleit Rye, brown sugar thyme syrup, fresh muddled cranberries and orange. It was just good enough to make this spot, if I'm not careful, a 'Daily' stop.

Be sure to stop by on any day of the week (Monday – Friday 3 p.m. to 2 a.m. and starting at 10 a.m. on Saturdays and Sundays). Did I mention they have brunch on Saturday and Sunday?! Yeah, I'll be getting a peak at that menu soon.