I used to go quite a lot, back in the days when I was "cool" 
Sometimes they are the only place open at that time that isn't noisy and where you can sit down, although they are very expensive. Private dances are very close, and often the woman (I refuse to call them girls, it feels creepy, they are fully grown women, usually) touches the dancee (usually a man), but the dancee doesn't touch the dancer, if that makes sense.
Creepy creepy creepy. I used to be "cool" with it, and even enjoy it, until I stepped back and looked at what is actually involved - sitting there, looking at a naked or nearly naked woman, all shaven and trussed up like some kind of Christmas present. Anyone who finds that sexy, except I suppose maybe in a bondage way when acknowledging the inherent weirdness, needs to start looking at themselves. It's like fancying a load of anatomically correct Barbie dolls, and the woman might as well wear facemasks or be robots, for all the customers care about them.
It's odd, I used to be OK about my husband going to those places when we first got together, and I think I might be ok ish if he was out on a stag night or something, but the idea of a man I have regular sex and intimacy with (not always the same thing) going on any kind of regular basis fills me with revulsion. It just shows such a disconnection from real life.
When I found out he had been going to these places recently, I looked up some of the porn he had been looking at, and I'm going to have a hard time getting those images out of my head whenever he comes near me - what used to be my soulmate and life partner, with all his quirks and our plans to be together and face whatever comes as a couple, has become a sleazy faceless twat who thinks that grown women with bodies that no-one over the age of 25 (or with children) will ever healthily have, and no body hair, is somehow alluring. No, alluring isn't even the right word, that would imply some kind of love of mystery. It's not even sexily sordid, it's just disgusting. It's the realm of dirty old men who don't think women are people. It's the realm of "Barely Legal" porn. It's the realm of exploitation.
I want to be fancied as myself, not because I let him see my boobies. I can't love someone who can participate in the out and out objectitfication of women, and then come home and kiss his wife and daughters goodnight. We're trying to work things out, and I hope we do, but he needs to sort himself out.
...sorry about the rant.
But yeah, quite possibly drinks, but it is the regularity that concerns me.