Back To Becoming 'Stevie', My Dancer Self

I had a really great, older, landlady, named Louella Gardner, who had, wisely, suggested that I store my personal belongings and furnishings (at no cost, to me!) in the large storage room of the apartment building that I lived in when I left Omaha to become a nanny in Miami. She told me, before I left, that this new venture might not go as I expected, and that I was always more than welcome to come back there, if it didn't go well. As I returned to Omaha, only 6 weeks or so after I had left for the nanny job in Florida, I was very grateful for her foresight, which came from her many years of life experience, that I did not yet have, in my late twenties. I had been renting a very small, one room, efficiency apartment from her, in the building, which was not a size that was in high demand as a popular place for most people to want to live. (I had initially moved there when I was still a Certified Nursing Assistant working at the hospital a few blocks away, when I had not been making much above minimium wage, in that job, so, this tiny place had fit that budget, then.) My old apartment was still vacant, when I returned, so I moved right back into it, bringing my belongings up from the first floor storage room, and settling back in. I felt very uneasy about how I was going to be able to pay my rent going forward, though, since I'd returned home out of work. I definitely didn't want to cause Mrs. Gardner to feel her faith in me was ungrounded. She believed in me, more than I believed in myself, at this point! I knew that I didn't want to ever give her any reason to regret her absolutely unconditional faith in me.

I had not made very much money in the nanny job, either, so by the time I paid her the rent to move back in, I had almost no money left. I was right back, to that same dilemma, I had been in, when I had let my friend Debbie finally convince me to take a job as a Go Go dancer, prior to my trying the nanny career field. >Sigh!< I didn't feel that I had any, really good, options, at the moment, and I needed some way to survive. To do that, I had to make some money, right away; enough, to be able to pay my bills on time. They would be due again soon. Faster than regular jobs would even pay me once I could find, and get hired for, such a job, after applying and interviewing, which took time that I didn't have for this right now. So that wasn't a solution for me. I couldn't afford the luxury of my pride in this present situation. I had to try to get hired as a dancer, again! I did not see any other way. I had tried, working as a waitress, which pays some immediate income in tips, and sometimes a weekly paycheck, as well, but it just wasn't something that I could do. I had the lower back issue, from my injury due to lifting the patients when I was a Nurse's Aide. While it was not a constant problem, for me, now that I was out of that career field, it did act up when I tried to do heavy lifting such as carrying big trays of food to tables in restaurants. I also wasn't good at keeping up with all of the scattered demands, of waiting tables. Juggling everything, that I had to, often at a hectic pace, such as trying to take an order, while another customer was waiting, impatiently, for their bill, and remembering who needed ketchup, who changed their mind about dessert, and refilling water and tea glasses in a timely manner, confused me, left me feeling very agitated, and lowered my self-esteem, due to my feeling so inept, in that line of work. Needless to say, since I could not seem to keep up, with all the demands on me doing that job, I also didn't make good tips, and the base pay was below the minimum wage. So, I got up my nerve, and went back to the Razzle Dazzle to try to smooth things over with Dick, the manager there, who had fired me just a couple of months or so before. I was surprised when I was told that he no longer worked there, and relieved, when they offered me my job back, as a dancer. Starting right away. A quick hire! With good money!

The other girls, that worked there, were, generally, a great group, and I liked them. They were nice to me, with some of the moodier, more sullen, ones as least acting acceptingly tolerant of me. I watched them, closely, as they did their dances on stage, learning alot from them, about how to move my own body in these sexy, suggestive, ways that brought in the better tips from the club customers. I had alot to learn, about this type of dancing, so I was very grateful to my teachers-in-thong-bikinis. It took me awhile, to become completely comfortable with doing this exhibitionism. Because I am usually quite friendly to people, and even talkative, they naturally assume that I'm a very outgoing person and not shy at all. They may have also believed that I felt comfortable in my own skin (most of which was now showing, due to the skimpy costumes that I had to wear as a dancer) doing this type of thing. However, I am, at my core---  or, in my heart of hearts, as my Catholic friends like to say---  actually a deeply spiritual person, a loner, and even an introvert, as well as being rather shy---  or perhaps just uncomfortable---  around other people. Largely because I grew up in an emotionally non-supportive family which taught me to feel unsafe exposing myself, in any way, to other people, because of the harm that had been inflicted on me, from them, and could be further inflicted, on me, by others, in some way. So, it took me quite a while to really fully, and truly, become 'Stevie', my dancer alter ego, and to be competent, comfortable, and confident, being 'her'--- that side of me, that I had to create and cultivate, into a fully functioning persona, for being my, actual, self. It did happen, though!

For me to finally get to that point I had to wrestle with all kinds of stereotypes; some that I had, and some that others had, in order for me to break through the bondage and the barriers, that were holding me back, from that. I had to try to reconcile my deep, Christian, faith, with what I was doing now, to make a living, and make decisions about boundaries I would set, to protect myself from some of the temptations, and pressures on me, that came along with this job. For starters, I chose not to drink alcohol at all, in this job. It was nice to know that I was not forced to do it, since I was working in a bar, after all. The club owners didn't care, if I drank cranberry or some other juice, a soft drink, or even coffee, because the customers were required to buy me costly drinks regardless of what I was having, if they wanted me to be allowed by the club to sit with them. [However, these clubs, in this area of the country, didn't have a cover charge; they only required that the customer order themselves a drink, and buy one for any dancer(s) they asked to join them.] There were disgruntled customers, who came into these clubs more focused on trying to get laid than enjoying the live stage entertainment, who would ask what I was drinking, and then complain when they realized it was nothing that could get me drunk to possibly make me vulnerable, to their sexual advances toward me. Whenever that happened, we parted ways, because I stuck to my guns about that for most (though not all) of my career as a dancer. I had discovered, when I met and fell in love with my second husband, Jim, who patiently and persistently got me past the psychological barrier from my being raped (making him my own personal sex therapist, setting me free sexually for the first time in my life), that I actually have an intense, almost insatiable, sexuality under the right conditions which causes me to, basically, be a nymphomaniac! Because of my having learned this about myself, I was not about to do anything that could encourage that to be unleashed on anything less than my loving someone (as deeply as I had loved Jim) and I had seen that drinking alcohol had been  a tremendous trigger for that happening with me, when Jim used it to get me past the trauma.

As I was becoming 'Stevie', my dancer alter ego, the problem with (and for) me trying to make this transition, into something, and someone, which was now stereotypically branded as being a 'whore' or a 'hooker' was that, at this point in my life, I still believed, deeply, and desperately, in love; in believing that it simply had to really happen, for me, in my life! I had thought with all of my being that Jim was that person, for me. But he was gone now. Married to someone else. Raising our son---  his, and mine---  with her. Still, I stubbornly clung to my faith that someday, somehow, with someone, I would finally have MY 'Happily Ever After'! I still accepted Disney's lie as the truth. I would soon find out, though (and even so, still have to be taught this again in more hard, and hurtful, ways), that love was not something being sought from me, by the men that I would meet in these nightclubs, or, actually, men that I met anywhere else, either. It was not what they were really after, with me. Although whatever it was, that they were after, varied, depending on the individual man, it was always something other than love for which they tried to get into my life. Or, my body. That fact was, eventually, going to pound itself, so deeply, into my heart, that it would lead to the death of my dream--- to truly love and be loved--- and even, almost, to the death OF ME! But, I get ahead of myself, here; about that. Right now, I was still trusting. I was still naive. I was still a decent human being. Because of all that I, still, believed, that if someone knew me, they would love me. In my character, values, and personality I was, still, much more 'Deborah', than I was 'Stevie', on the spectrum between these two seemingly opposite parts of me. I was such a good person! The trouble was, I needed love, in my life, to anchor me, there, now. I'd been deprived of it for far too long in my life, and I was becoming a badly damaged soul, because of that. I'd tried, as hard as I could, to hang on to my belief that love was real, and that its healing power would find me, touch me, and transform me, through that intimate unity, with some other soul; even though, when I thought I had found it, or, it had found me, it turned out to only be teasing me. It was cruel, that men were willing, to break my heart and shatter my soul into pieces to use me, and use me up, the ways that they had, and would, do. There is a Bob Marley quote which resonates with the deepest pain in me that has been caused by men: The biggest coward of a man is to awaken the love of a woman without the intention of loving her. I was already devastated by my son's father, Jim, having done that. The last thing I needed was for that to ever happen to me again; but it would. I blamed myself by then, though, for allowing it, because I had kept my heart open, to love. I learned, not to do that anymore, before it was all said and done, which is what led to my doing prostitution, near the very end of my dancer career. For now, though, I was, still, both a dancer and an innocent.

All the while, I was learning more, about how, to be a dancer, I was also performing, on stage, and vice versa, as I continued becoming 'Stevie', my dancer self. I am a very cerebral person, who typically leads much more with my brain than my body, so this did not come naturally, for me. I was encouraged, by the fact that I saw myself (slowly) improve, including learning more about how to converse with the customers. I had initially been pretty clueless about what they liked to talk about, and to hear, from me, in those verbal exchanges; so, I was mostly missing the mark in conversations with them. These men were mainly strangers to me and I didn't yet know how to jump right into some intimate-sounding conversation, with them, which was well peppered with innuendo, and served up with a sexier, sultry, tone, to my voice. I learned that, though. I still didn't have any 'regulars', yet; customers that came there strictly to see me, like some of the other dancers did. The guys I sat with in the beginning, which were willing to buy me drinks (which most of the Go Go bars in this area required us to sell, each shift, as drinks tallied toward our quota; at the minimum), seemed to me, to be doing it more out of a tolerant politeness than, really, wanting my company, for themselves specifically. My thick eyeglasses and fairly flat chest might have been part of what was off-putting to them back then, but I also kept myself well covered up, wearing a short, and silky, but very baggy, kimono robe over my costume, when I wasn't up on the stage. It took me awhile to shed my layers, both of clothing and self-consciousness. The sheer pantyhose had been legally required under my costumes, when I was first a dancer, in Iowa. I liked, their silky sleekness on my legs, their extra warmth, since I had little clothing on my body, otherwise, and, their protection, from grabby guys, who, especially while tipping me, would, sometimes, try to take that opportunity to try to 'cop a feel'. So, I was the only dancer, I ever saw, in any Go Go bar where pantyhose weren't required, to continue, wearing those, pinned in, underneath my costumes; and I did that my entire career!

As my dancer persona, and stage skills, evolved, my tips improved. I was able to afford to buy more, and nicer, costumes. No more hand-me-downs, from other dancers, 'Plain Jane'-looking ones, or ill-fitting ones that unintentionally revealed parts of my body that they shouldn't be. My body, which was always a slender size 6, began to become toned, more like I had looked after Air Force Basic Training, which was sleeker and sexier. It was simply a byproduct of dancing 6 nights a week being alot of exercise. While I am not well-endowed, in the chest area (but wore padded push-up bras, to compensate for that, some, on stage), I have shapely legs and a nice butt. As my cute, full, rounded, 'bubble butt'* tightened, from the dance moves, it sat up higher, and perkier, and looked luscious enough that men wanted to grab it (only there were bouncers in the bar, preventing that; for the most part). Another benefit I noticed from dancing was that it greatly improved my back, to the point that I had virtually no pain left, from that persistent back injury I had gotten due to doing patient lifting, when I was a Nursing Assistant. That was a nice, and unexpected, bonus, to this new career I was pursuing now. Because my stomach muscles tightened, especially, from doing a move called a 'body roll'**, my back issue greatly improved! Even wearing stiletto heels, to dance in, which are considered notoriously bad, for women with bad backs, was not a problem, because my back felt so much better and stronger, now. Also, I was starting to feel a little more comfortable, in this environment, and like I was fitting in, more, even though, my being starved for love, and wanting to make meaningful connections with the employees, and the customers, in the nightclub, put me at odds, both emotionally, and socially, with the mindset of the people around me. The other dancers were all much more enthusiastic about how good their tips were, for the night, and while they seemed cynical, to me, that way, I seemed foolish, to them, by believing, that there, might, be love, in this world; that was worth it.

Occasionally one of the girls would be asked to go to some guy's home to do a Bachelor Party or to go dance for them there for some other, less specific, reason. Sometimes, judging by the conversations I overheard, it was also going to include something other than just dancing, this girl was willing to do, with this guy, or a group of guys. According to them, it was well worth the risk to their personal safety, because the money was really good. Some, went all alone, but at least one, that I knew, insisted that she bring her own bodyguard with her, or, No Deal. I was a rape survivor, already, so that was not something I could see myself doing. I also have always, at my core, been someone who believes that sexuality is something special, even sacred, and therefore, that mine is ideally to be shared only with someone that I love, that loves me. As we were all in the dressing room, one night, getting ready, to start the show at the club, Tammy, a bold, brash, black, dancer, I worked with there, asked me, as the 'new girl', in a friendly way, if  I wanted to go along with her, to learn the ropes, for doing a Bachelor Party, after work. All the other dancers glanced up, at me, from applying their eyeliner, teasing their hair out, or putting on their costumes, to hear my answer, because they were always curious, about 'newbies', to see who they really were, then adjust their own comfort level, with the girl, accordingly. [If you were too tame, in their opinion, they could get a little paranoid, around you, as they started to wonder if you could even be an undercover cop, for example. There was a good deal of drug use, among some--- but not all--- of the dancers, and a few, that were prostitutes, on the side.  I didn't smoke, didn't drink (back then), and didn't do drugs; so, not doing sex, for money--- or even sleeping around--- raised suspicion about me from others in the bar, throughout most of my career, causing some of the girls to distrust me, to some extent.] Seeing every girl, in that dressing room, stop, to hear what my response was, to Tammy, about her invitation to me, to join her, at the Bachelor gig, I felt really corny, as I replied, "No thanks. I don't want to do that stuff. I'm waiting for love! I want that guy to know, when he finds me, that, I may be a dancer, but it's only my job; not my lifestyle." Some of the girls looked shocked by that answer, some looked a little wistful, for their own innocence lost, somewhere along the way. Tammy, and at least one other girl, laughed out loud at that, though, as Tammy said, "GIRL! You better learn how to SHAKE THAT 'MONEY MAKER', while YOU STILL HAVE IT, because, that thing ain't always gonna be somethin' men will PAY to SEE, an' there ain't NO SUCH FUCKING THING as 'LOVE'! You betta get REAL, girl!" I didn't believe that; then. Although, sadly, I would, later.

To be sure, every single one of us, having had men that we had loved, in our personal lives, in our past, had lived to seriously regret allowing them in, to our lives, and, our bodies, due to the absolute heartbreak they had caused us, as an unfair exchange, for that risk, we took, on their behalf. Being a caregiver, as a Nurse's Aide, and, a nanny, had emphasized my nurturing side, and had thankfully been well reciprocated by those that I had cared for---  the patients, and the children---  developing real, and caring, bonds, with one another. Even the nursing staff, at the hospital, had enveloped me with their caring and concern, for all involved, which included their nurture and support of me. In a sense, we dancers competed with one another; for tips; for the customers to buy us the club-required-quota, of drinks, each night; and, for status. I was at the very bottom of that ladder to dancer success, in the beginning, of course, but I was on my way. I realized that, while I was learning, from the other dancers, and was grateful, to them, for that, and even became closer, in a sense, to some of the girls I worked with, more than others, that the cohesiveness I had so cherished, with the entire medical staff I had previously been a part of, was just not something that the bar atmosphere was going to foster, for me. It was more of a sense of my belonging to the scene, itself, than with one another, relationally, and was much more superficial in almost every way. For the drinkers, or drug users, in the bar, getting a buzz on together was the closest they came to bonding. They were feeling good together, but really apart. In contrast, the nursing staff at the hospital where I had worked, had been joined closely together, in a noble, common cause. Our hearts had been open and our minds had been clear.

Over time, though, when, and as, love didn't happen, for me, I began to let go of believing in it, little, by little, yet steadily, until I began to drift, farther, and farther, away, from any hope, losing my moral compass, in the process. Studies have been done, documenting the effect of lack of love, even on animals. This deep, unmet, need can cause a failure to thrive, in way(s), among other negative effects caused by the deprivation. There is clearly a reason that God's greatest commandments are to love Him and to love others, which indicate how necessary it is! Yet the world has far too little, of it; and, the consequences, of that, whether in one individual's life, or, in all lives, is incalculable. There is an article on what I'm describing here about myself which I recommend that you read:  https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/tech-support/201711/6-things-daughters-unloving-parents-need-unlearn.  It was written by Peg Streep***.  These are excerpts from her article: "Many women it seems, hang on to what our culture preaches in the hopes that they catch the brass ring, although research shows that children who grow up with a secure style of attachment-- whose emotional needs were met, in childhood, who felt loved, and supported  and grew to have confidence in their thoughts  and  feelings--  are  more likely to dodge the someday - my - prince - will - sweep - me - off - my - feet vision [that] our culture encourages and find a relationship that is both durable and nurturing. . . . Infants . . . deprived of face-to-face interaction and touch fail to thrive and can, in fact, die.  That gives you a pretty clear sense of how important . . . love and caring —   are to our species. . . .   We learn about love by the love we are shown  and by love’s absence or presence  in our family of origin. . . .  the  coping  mechanisms  the unloved daughter develops . . . operate  largely  unconsciously.  That  is . . . part  of  the  problem  because,  unseen,  they influence  and  shape  the unloved daughter’s behaviors. . . . The unloved daughter  lacks  a sense of belonging  in her  family of origin,  and  if  she  doesn’t  belong  there, where will she ever belong? . . . That daughter has already internalized that love hurts . . . . What  we  learned  about  love  in  childhood  can  be unlearned  . . . .  Recognizing that we were  starved  for  affection  is an important first step." I agree with my counselors over the years who having heard my life story say that it is amazing that I survived all that I have been through, even as well as I have!  I give God all the glory for that, because of His Grace and Mercy, toward me, and His becoming my 'Love Anchor' in life. He had always wanted, to be that to me, and tried, to do that for me, but because we humans are given Free Will, by Him, I had to allow, even invite, Him to, before He could. Although I've survived everything I have gone through, I am also damaged, as a result, of all of it. Scars on my body, my soul, and my spirit, easily identify me, as one, of the walking wounded. As much as I would like for that to not be the case, for me, and I continue working on myself, in various ways, to try to improve on the condition, I am in, it is simply the reality of the consequences of my accumulated life experiences; of the effect of sin in my life. The sins of others and my own.

One night, as I was sitting at a table, in the bar, waiting for my turn to go on stage to dance, a waitress there, at the Razzle Dazzle, told me that there was a brand new Go Go bar opening, over in Omaha, and they needed dancers. The Razzle was directly across the Missouri River from there, in Council Bluffs, Iowa, but since I lived in Omaha what she was saying to me got my interest. I like things in my life to be as simple as possible, as often as possible! Probably because I am so weary, from all the things, and all the times, that have not been that way, for me. I was not sure why she told me that, or what other dancers she may have also told there. Part of me wondered whether it was a nice way to get rid of me, although, I had been rehired on the spot. Mickey owned this bar, though, and I had no doubt, that he well remembered my telling him, not to ever touch me, again, after he had grabbed my butt cheek, when I had first started working there, and I had not known he was my boss when I told him off for doing that. Still, he had never been hostile toward me, even when that happened, and he did not appear to be holding a grudge, against me, for it. I was never sure of the waitress's motive for telling me, but it didn't look like it would be anything I would be able to pursue anyway, after I asked her who was managing this new nightclub, and, she told me that Dick McGinnis was. He had been the manager here at the Razzle Dazzle, who had hired me the first time I worked there. Since Dick had also fired me, from the Razzle, I felt sure that he would have no interest at all  in having me working for him again, so I let it go at that, after explaining to the waitress that it was the reason, that I would not be looking into the possibility of my working at this new club.

About a week later, she brought it up to me again, though, saying that she had talked to Dick, about it, and that, he remembered me, and was, offering me the job, if I wanted to work there. When she told me the location of the other Go Go bar in Omaha it was walking distance from where I lived! That was a tremendous selling point for me. I didn't like being on the streets for very long, or very far, after my shifts ended at the Razzle at 2 AM, 6 nights a week, because I was getting off work when all the bars in the area were closing, and that unfortunately meant alot of drunks were driving on those streets at that time. It felt too risky, to me, to be out there among them as I was trying to get home from work. The bars in Omaha, Nebraska closed an hour earlier, too; at 1 AM (when I was a dancer), which meant that I wouldn't have to work as late, and could get home, eat, unwind some, and still get to bed before dawn. Since Dick had apparently already hired me, so, if I wanted the job, it was mine, I went to work for him, at the Backdoor Lounge. It was a fairly small bar, in the back room of the Smoke Pit, a very popular BBQ Restaurant. That was another plus, for me, too! I was always really hungry after burning lots of calories, dancing all night, and the restaurant stayed open later than the bar, giving me time to either eat there, or get Take-Out, before I headed home. Often, club customers would even offer to buy me the meal over in the restaurant, at the end of the night. All in all, it was a much better situation for me. Easy hires. Better money. Music. Dancing. Meals being paid for.  I could get used to this! Everything has good and bad, to it, in this world, it seems; but for me, for the first time in a long time, life was starting to feel more sweet, and less bitter. I liked that!

The Smoke Pit BBQ Restaurant and The Backdoor Lounge, in Omaha, Nebraska 

                                                                                                                                                           
Just as I had done at the Razzle, I also closely watched the other dancers up on stage here at the Backdoor Lounge, as I continued to learn more about how to dance, in this way, in a thong bikini, this up-close to club customers, without being uncomfortably self-conscious while doing so. I was impressed, even amazed, at times, by how sensuously and enticingly some of these girls could move on that stage. I still couldn't make eye contact with these men when I was up there. In fact, although I had gotten my first contact lenses, while I was in Miami, working as a nanny, I preferred, to wear my eyeglasses, and take them off, when I went up to dance. Being quite nearsighted, with astigmatism, my vision was reduced to the point that I could really only see those men sitting at the tables that were right next to the stage. The rest were only a blur! As I slowly but steadily improved in my Go Go dance moves, during my turns up on stage, my tips from the customers began to increase. Sometimes, though, dancing on stage fairly blindly went against me. Other dancers would occasionally tell me that a customer had been holding up folded money, as a tip, for me, of some denomination, but that they had withdrawn it after I appeared to them to be ignoring that, or refusing it, when I had simply not seen them! >sigh!< Even though I, occasionally, lost tip money, this way, I was, still, making the best money that I had ever made, in any job, or career field, in my life. By far! This was the 80s. The music was perfect, for dancing to! Things generally seemed more lighthearted, and fun. It kind of felt like  it was a never-ending party, in a way; until, it wasn't, anymore. I MISS that decade in so many ways and for so many reasons. Those had felt like the best years of my life! After barely being able to make ends meet financially for years, before I started dancing, this was alot more fun!

This environment was definitely an escape from reality, for the most part, for everyone, there, in some way or other. If the sexy music or the drinks, or both, didn't carry you somewhere far away, from your everyday existence, in your thoughts and emotions, then the 'Live On Stage' entertainment, surrounded by blinking light bulbs, while, the rest of the room was under cover of darkness, beckoned bar goers, through sheer titillation. The undercurrent of sexual energy and frustration in that room was electric! A thick cloud of cigarette smoke that hung heavily in the air (for many years, in those nightclubs, before the law was finally changed, prohibiting it) caused it to look like some hazy netherworld for lost souls, adding to a sense of unreality that was either delightfully or frightfully drawing us all in, keen to explore ourselves and the others in some way. We, all, craved, being in these bars. Each in our own way; for our own reasons. We were seduced, by something, about it, that drew us, there, and then, held us, in its grasp, long after it began to make us miserable, instead, and we, finally, had to recognize and admit that it was not good for us. I hadn't comprehended any of this, that I'm describing to you now, about it, when I was new to it, though. I only knew that, it compelled me, to be a part of it, and  it motivated me, to learn so much, about so many things, that were so foreign, to me, and my life. The nightly circus, that it was, also distracted me--- quite well, actually--- from that, deep, heartache, that had come to continually plague my consciousness, without relief--- except for here. Maybe it is the most blasphemous way, to say this, but, it was a Godsend, for me! I am not sure that I would have survived without it, in my life, to change me, and to strengthen me; teach me 'street smarts', that I came to value so much more than the 'book smarts' that I had before that which had seemed to serve little of any practical purpose as I tried to navigate my way through all that life had dealt me. If I had to choose a song as background music, to also convey the atmosphere and the environment, that I am describing here, as far as what it was like to be in, and a part of, these Go Go bars it would be 'Hotel California'. Here is the link for the Eagles, performing, this, hit song, live: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=niIX0QcYRzE.

Hotel California

Eagles

On a dark desert highway
Cool wind in my hair
Warm smell of colitas
Rising up through the air
Up ahead in the distance
I saw a shimmering light
My head grew heavy and my sight grew dim
I had to stop for the night
There she stood in the doorway
I heard the mission bell
And I was thinkin' to myself
'This could be heaven or this could be hell
Then she lit up a candle
And she showed me the way
There were voices down the corridor
I thought I heard them say
Welcome to the Hotel California
Such a lovely place (such a lovely place)
Such a lovely face
Plenty of room at the Hotel California
Any time of year (any time of year)
You can find it here
Her mind is Tiffany-twisted
She got the Mercedes Benz, uh
She got a lot of pretty, pretty boys
That she calls friends
How they dance in the courtyard
Sweet summer sweat
Some dance to remember
Some dance to forget
So I called up the Captain
"Please bring me my wine"
He said, "We haven't had that spirit here since 1969"
And still those voices are calling from far away
Wake you up in the middle of the night
Just to hear them say
Welcome to the Hotel California
Such a lovely place (such a lovely place)
Such a lovely face
They livin' it up at the Hotel California
What a nice surprise (what a nice surprise)
Bring your alibis
Mirrors on the ceiling
The pink champagne on ice
And she said, "We are all just prisoners here of our own device"
And in the master's chambers
They gathered for the feast
They stab it with their steely knives
But they just can't kill the beast
Last thing I remember
I was running for the door
I had to find the passage back
To the place I was before
"Relax", said the night man
"We are programmed to receive
You can check out any time you like
But you can never leave"

Songwriters: Glenn Lewis Frey / Don Felder / Donald Hugh Henley

So much was an illusion in these dark clubs with the flashing lights and loud, pulsating, music, with dancers wearing thick masks, of makeup, and using, fake, stage names, not only for their own protection, and privacy, but to seem like even more of a fantasy figure, in the minds of the male customers, who had left their real world, everyday lives, behind, and escaped them here, to encounter that. Dancer aliases were very often sexually suggestive. A large-boobed girl that I worked with went by the--- fairly obvious--- dancer name of 'Peaches' after getting the breast implants, to live up to that. Her real name was Peggy; and her real body had been less chesty. [I explained how I came to have my dancer name, of 'Stevie', in a previous post. The short of it was that I took it from the name of a very prominent doctor, that I knew, from the hospital that I had worked in, after he ended our relationship. But, I made it my own! Here, is the link, for that post:   https://ascentthroughthedarknightofthesoul.blogspot.com/2019/10/from-my-giving-all-i-had-to-my-showing.html.]  Almost every Go Go bar, I ever worked in, seemed to have dancers going by 'Angel' and 'Diamond'. There was also usually a 'Chastity' who was anything but that. Even when I got to know someone in the bar that I worked in, whether it was a co-worker, or a customer, it didn't really seem like it was truly them I was interacting with. It was often more of a superficial posturing, that they put forth, or even just some type of, outrageous, over-the-top attitude, that made them seem much more plastic, than real, to me; and, when that fell shorter still of their apparent aim, to reinvent themselves, even left them looking downright cartoonish! There were times this turned into some hilarious sideshow, and People Watching in there was one of my favorite pastimes, in between, doing my dances, up on stage (though, sometimes, I even caught myself doing that from up there!). From Bachelor Parties, coming in, to bouncers jumping on jerks to kick them out of the bar for getting too far out of line, it was clear that all of the live entertainment, on any given night, in the Go Go bars, was not, just from their dancers!

Virtually everyone, in these places, had an angle; some agenda, they wanted to succeed with to make it "a good night!" Even, at times, regardless of the cost, or consequence, in their lives once this 'party' was over. "LAST CALL, FOR ALCOHOL!" the waitress told the customers, as they tried to make their final tip for the night. At closing time, as the buzzed crowd nursed that last drink, the, harsh, glaring, overhead lights abruptly switch on, making the magic disappear in a split-second 'POOF!', as this very same room, that had felt like such a Fantasy Land, just moments before, suddenly appears dilapidated and dingy. Stale, gray, cigarette smoke hangs in the air, like a haze. Insecurities had battled against ambitions, within each soul, all evening, as people played their head, and heart, games, with one another; hedging their bets, by each showing the other, only, what they wanted them to see, and to think, that they were. Now, this moment of reckoning had arrived for them to, finally, find out which of the two opposing forces had won, based on what the goal was, that one had in mind. Of course, it was sad, to me, but no surprise, that married men, that came in, often, told the dancers that they were single, and even those that actually admitted, they were married (and, some, even happily married; or so they claimed), still, wanted to get the dancer, of their dreams, to have sex with them. Dancers who happened to be confirmed Man-Haters had, acted, available and even interested, during the evening, as long as the money kept coming, to them, out of the guy's wallet, and into their bikini bottom, as tips. But, NOW? . . . they tell this sucker that, stupidly, thought he could play, use, or take advantage of, them--- after they already had that happen, to them, earlier in their lives, by some jerk, that they had actually loved and trusted NOT to do that, to them: "Oh my! The sitter told me, when I called home, just now, that they can't stay longer, tonight, so I have to hurry home." (They have no kids.)  After adding, they're 'OH SO SORRY, they can't be with the guy; not TONIGHT, anyway, . . . .' (to try, to keep him on their hook, for future tips, until he finally figures it out) they vanish into the night after giving him their (fake; non-working) phone number, that he asked for. This is what I saw, working at these bars; and, I eventually learned.

To be honest, and transparent, here, I have to admit that I, also, eventually did things like this after a few too many men tried to pull their crap with me. It is one of my, hardest, confessions, to make, in my life! Worse, it was not always done--- by any, of us, doing it--- strictly, tit for tat, only on whom had perpetrated it on us, and may have, therefore, 'deserved' it, being done, to them. At some point, people that hadn't done it, to anyone, and didn't have it coming, to them, had it done, to them, anyway; for whatever reason, or motivation, the perpetrator had, to do it. There is that expression 'Hurt people hurt people'. There are not alot of things I am actually ashamed of, in my life, but my choice, to, disgracefully, hustle, some, undeserving, people, in my dancer career is definitely on the list of things that I would like to think that I would change or undo, if only, I could go back, in time. I once gave a guy, named Robin, that I actually even really liked, a fake phone number--- to the animal spay-neuter clinic (LOL)--- because he had come into this club as an assistant manager and had started to try to sleep with every dancer there, one after another, causing jealousy, arguments, and distrust between the dancers, who thought he was worth it. Hating myself, for still liking him, as a person, despite, something this despicable, to me, I gave him the wrong phone number, to try to make a point about his penis. It all sounds pathetic, I know; but I do think that there's some justice in gamers getting gamed.

In the dressing rooms, at the end of the night, some of the girls, whose feet hurt, or who didn't make enough tips, to be happy, that night, were now being bitchy, as they shed their sexiness and sequins, and put on their snarkiness and sweatpants. Others, too tired, to talk, to anyone, anymore, at all, still showed their own signs, of wear and tear, from the flakes of mascara that had fallen onto their faces, to the teased-out hairdos that had somehow deflated in spite of all the hairspray coating them. I listened to the comments, back and forth, between the girls, as I quickly pulled on my jeans over my costume, to go home; sometimes adding my own, into the mix, but mostly, just trying to get out of there, get something to eat, and put my feet up awhile. The comments between the dancers, often sounded something like this: "Oh! Honey! I LIKED your new costume you wore tonight! That REALLY HID those STRETCHMARKS, across your stomach."; "Oh my God! My FUCKING FEET HURT!  . . . Geez; they STINK, too! I'm going to throw these shoes out!"; "Wait! What SIZE, are they!?"; "Babygirl! Trust me! YOU don't WANT these SMELLY OLD SHOES!"; "Ladies, I, had a GOOD night, tonight!  I made money, off that one guy, I sat with! I think he's going to be my new 'regular'! He said, he'd be back."; "You can get us CLOSED DOWN, doin' the kind of lap dance that you were giving that guy tonight, and we'll ALL be OUT of MONEY! I saw, what you were rubbin', on him, and the undercover cops, that we get in here, coulda seen that too. You're messing with MY money, if you get us SHUT DOWN!"; "Can you . . . pass me that trashcan? I think, I'm going to throw up."; "You shouldn't be doing those shots. That's some strong shit!"; "Man! She PUKED, in it; and, it STINKS!  I'M GONE!"; "I don't know why you have to drink that much. I quit drinking, last year, and I get up, on that stage, stone-sober. Every night! Why don't you quit drinking, so much, like that? It will make you OLD BEFORE YOUR TIME! Do you wanna LOOK OLD? . . . I can smell that vomit in here. Why didn't you go to the restroom, to do that?"; "She's naked. I can't find her clothes! She's SO fucked up!"; "Well, I'm outta here! See you bitches, tomorrow.  I'm headed to TACO BELL DRIVE THRU!"; "Did YOU tell that one guy I WAS MARRIED, so he'd sit with YOU and NOT ME? FUCK YOU, Bitch! Don't even lie, about it!" The show we put on every night was--- almost all--- a masquerade . . . both intriguing, and empty, all at the same time; and when the masks came off, after the lights came up, it was really just a group of regular girls, whose feet hurt, and hearts were broken, that were trying, their best--- DAMN IT!--- in spite of everything, crappy, about being a woman in THIS world--- to, just SURVIVE, it; and, keep on, keeping on.

The Eagles are my all-time favorite band and I especially love their expressive, emotive, lyrics.
There is another one, of their songs, that sums up what a night at the Go Go bar was like. The following, is the, audio, link, for them performing this song, 'Heartache Tonight', and, the lyrics:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=feduLprAAig

Heartache Tonight
Eagles

Somebody's gonna hurt someone before the night is through.
Somebody's gonna come undone; there's nothin' we can do
Everybody wants to touch somebody, if it takes all night
Everybody wants to take a little chance, make it come out right
There's gonna be a heartache tonight, a heartache tonight I know
There's gonna be a heartache tonight, a heartache tonight I know
Lord, I know.
Some people like to stay out late
Some folks can't hold out that long
But nobody wants to go home now; there's too much goin' on
This night is gonna last forever. Last all, last all summer long
Some time before the sun comes up the radio is gonna play that song
There's gonna be a heartache tonight, a heartache tonight I know
There's gonna be a heartache tonight, a heartache tonight I know
Lord, I know.
There's gonna be a heartache tonight
The moon's shinin' bright, so turn out the light, and we'll get it right
There's gonna be a heartache tonight, a heartache to night, I know
Somebody's gonna hurt someone (somebody) before the night is through
Somebody's gonna come undone; there's nothin' we can do (everybody)
Everybody wants to touch somebody, if it takes all night
Everybody wants to take a little chance, make it come out right
There's gonna be a heartache tonight, a heartache tonight I know
There's gonna be a heartache tonight, a heartache tonight I know
Let's go.
We can beat around the bushes; we can get down to the bone
We can leave it in the parkin' lot, but either way
There's gonna be a heartache tonight, a heartache tonight I know
There'll be a heartache tonight, a heartache tonight I know

Songwriters: Glenn Frey / Don Henley / Bob Seger / John David Souther


* [Urban Dictionay] "Bubble Butt - Contrary to popular belief Bubble Butts are ~not~ big asses. Bubble Butts are round like a globe, usually complement a slender/slim body, they are very tight and firm . . . . 'she is skinny but - damn - she has a bubble-li-cious bubble butt ass.'"

** body roll: (a video, showing this move) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0jd1nuA61mc                         (a GIF, showing this move) https://images.app.goo.gl/cJv5aj8Ri5r5PozPA
                   (a GIF, of Rihanna body roll) https://images.app.goo.gl/Ms9dU3af9ohhKRaq6

*** Peg Streep is the author of the book Daughter Detox: Recovering from an Unloving Mother      and Reclaiming Your Life, and has written or co-authored 12 books. Online: pegstreep.com.