Slip slidin' away
Slip slidin' away
You know the nearer your destination
The more you're slip slidin' away
I know a man
He came from my home town
He wore his passion for his woman
Like a thorny crown
He said Delores
I live in fear
My love for you's so overpowering
I'm afraid that I will disappear
Slip slidin' away
Slip slidin' away
You know the nearer your destination
The more you're slip slidin' away
I know a woman
Became a wife
These are the very words she uses
To describe her life
She said a good day
Ain't got no rain
She said a bad day's when I lie in bed
And think of things that might have been
Slip slidin' away
Slip slidin' away
You know the nearer your destination
The more you're slip slidin' away
And I know a father
Who had a son
He longed to tell him all the reasons
For the things he'd done
He came a long way
Just to explain
He kissed his boy as he lay sleeping
Then he turned around and headed home again
He's slip slidin'
Slip slidin' away
You know the nearer your destination
The more you're slip slidin' away
God only knows
God makes his plan
The information's unavailable
To the mortal man
We work our jobs
Collect our pay
Believe we're gliding down the highway
When in fact we're slip slidin' away
Slip slidin' away
Slip slidin' away
You know the nearer your destination
The more you're slip slidin' away
Slip slidin' away
Slip slidin' away
You know the nearer your destination
The more you're slip slidin' away
It wasn't just, one thing, but, a unique combination, of factors. On top of all that I have already shared, about my life, prior to my doing prostitution, I had also gone through the disappointment of remarrying, my third husband, Tom, along with the devastation, from marrying my fourth, and final, husband, Mark, which I have not covered in depth in blog posts so far. In between those two things, I went through even more types of abuse, betrayal, and misogyny, from other males in my life, in addition to all that I went through in those relationships, before ever even getting to this part of my life where I finally had sex for money. So, there's still alot about my life that's not been delved into, here, but which also played a part in the anger I felt, toward men, and their harm to my self-esteem. When we get hurt so much, by other people, it can lead to us hurting ourselves, as well, in some way or other. Some people develop eating disorders, or any number of things that are not good for them to do, to themselves. My brother chose to commit suicide. Pain has to be expressed. Our strongest emotions, will manifest, somehow, somewhere, whether that ends up being toward, whomever is causing us to feel them, or toward, some unfortunate, or unsuspecting, third party, we encounter, who bears the brunt of it but, was not the cause. Will Bowen, summed it up, in this quote, by saying, "Hurt people hurt people" and another quote, from an anonymous source, says that, "If you don't heal what hurt you, you'll bleed on people who didn't cut you." So true!
So as I begin to explain how this came about please bear in mind that I had been let down, used, abused, and, finally, thoroughly, shattered, as a human being (by 'the son of Satan' that was my last husband) before I ever 'turned tricks', despite the fact that, I had been a dancer, in various Omaha nightclubs--- where, several different men propositioned me, for sex. Virtually every single shift that I worked in those places. For about a decade and a half. But, I was never even tempted to 'go there' with any of these men, 99.99% of the time. I had been the girl that all the other dancers teased about needing to wake up, and use that 'money maker' (vagina), while I still could, because love was basically a crock of shit. Although I will be able to describe the circumstances of my life, right around the time that it actually happened, which is what this post is about, take into account that I went through so much other crap from/with men, long before this occurred; as well as having no sense of family at all, in my life, to anchor, protect, or nurture me, due to my having a dysfunctional family of origin and a string of divorces. The closest thing that I ever had to a family of my own was with my second husband whom I divorced, and our son, which, I gave to him, and a stepmother, to raise, together, because, that man--- the one, that I loved, more than any other human being, in my life--- had, apparently, actually just used me for (great 'I've died and gone to Heaven!') sex but had never really loved, or wanted, ME; and I wanted better, for my child, than to be raised in a loveless home, like I was, growing up. It is truly a miracle of God's Grace, that I've survived all that I have been through, in this life.
Whether, you are quoting, Lord Byron, or Mark Twain, it has been said that, 'life is stranger than fiction', and I have no doubt that the way that I ended up doing sex for money was, at the very least, a unique path, to 'the world's oldest profession'. This is difficult for me to describe here. Not because I haven't come to terms with the fact that I actually did do that, but because 'a perfect storm' of situations had to come about, in my life, to, finally, get me to do that. I can't count all the times men have propositioned me for sex in my life. Especially during the years I was a dancer. That--- having sex, for sex sake--- has never even appealed to me. At all. Not just because I am a survivor of rape, either. Mostly, it's because, I always felt that love was what gave sex any, real, meaning, to me. I held out, for that, for so long, until, finally beaten down--- literally, and figuratively--- by my last husband, who was an abusive narcissist, I just couldn't 'keep the faith', anymore, about me ever finding, or having, that. Actually, based on my extensive experience with the male sex I even stopped believing that love was possible. I stopped believing that it was even real. I chalked it up to, that Disney myth, of 'Happily Ever After', from my childhood indoctrination, which had held a firm grasp on my heart, and on my hopes, until I felt too foolish, believing in something, or someone, who had never manifested in my life. I remember watching my youngest sister start to cry, when an uncle told her, at a family gathering at his house, that Santa Claus wasn't real. I was so angry at him for taking that from her. Santa was love and magic, and all our deepest wishes were fulfilled by him! Why did he need to take that from her? In that same way, every man that taught me that love wasn't real took away any hope (I had held onto, through so much evidence to the contrary) of ever finding fulfillment, from the 'magic' of love. That deep damage done to my dream wasn't even the final breaking point for me, though, as awful as all of that was for me. I was 'fatally wounded' by a police officer that patrolled my neighborhood for years and that led to cynicism, in me, which became a huge wall around my heart. This guy made a game out of my life, and he had to know he was also playing around with my heart. Just 'for sport'. For laughs. Ego. To amuse himself at my expense.
It left me feeling very angry at God too, because He knew better than anybody, I had already gone through Hell, in so may ways, because of the insincerity of men toward me. I had cared so deeply. I had given so much. I was left with nothing to show for any of that, except more, and more, cynicism, in my heart. I smile, now, as I sit here typing this next thought: I don't depend on men to love me anymore (because they don't) or make me happy (because they didn't). My trust is in God, who "is not a man, that He should lie" (Numbers 23:19), and in HIS love, for me; and now I live very happily being a single woman! I have peace and contentment now. Things that men always undermined in my life, when I allowed them in--- to my life, and to my body. For me, men are the single biggest let down in my life. I can't speak for anyone else. We're a product of our experiences in this world, to a large extent. This is my blog, about my life, and I write about what is true for me.I do believe there are some good men on this planet, although, not nearly enough of them; and I even believe that I have met, and know, a few of them! But, I also know that I was never privileged to have one of those men in my personal life. No shining knight, for me; just imposters, who brought distress to this damsel rather than rescuing me from it. I have been celibate for decades now. I decided on that immediately following my doing the prostitution, and I have, never, been tempted to go back on that decision, despite the fact that, to this day (I am 65 now), men still try to get in my life to get into my body. The most recent ones (all 4 of them) are simply opportunists, trying to get their sexual gratification from me because I moved in to this apartment several years ago. I do enjoy men as friends, but that is as far as it goes, for me. Even when my (female) doctor told me during my last exam that the pain I started having is vaginal atrophy from lack of use, I went on Amazon, and ordered 'toys', to help stimulate more blood flow to the area, as she explained is necessary to keep the problem from getting even worse, and causing more health issues, because it is basically 'use it or lose it'. Despite her bad news, there was still nothing about it, that would motivate me to allow a man to provide such 'therapy'. I'm just so over it. How much, they take, from me, and how much harm they inflict, on me. I'll just take another aspirin before I'll take another man.
I have gotten so much closer to God over the years as I have learned more about Him, and observed more about humans. God's love FEELS SO GOOD, to me! It is, not at all like, whatever, that was, that men thought I would settle for, with them, that I didn't. Based on what men offered me, versus what I have now with God, I don't feel like I'm missing a thing! I TRUST GOD COMPLETELY. He, only wants the BEST, for me. No more settling for crumbs from men, while I'm slowly starving to death, emotionally. So, this part of my life had a happy ending! I have to go back in time, over two decades, now, though, to talk about, why I became a prostitute. I was at a very different place in my life, in those days, than I am now. Physically, mentally, emotionally, and, yes, spiritually, as well. I was 'living large', as 'Stevie'. It was the era, in my life, when I was most entrenched in the physical, superficial, ego-driven lifestyle. God's Holy Spirit was still with me (in me) but He wasn't very happy, with me, in many ways, at the time. We had our ups and downs, along the way. Especially, when He really tried, hard, to exert His influence, on me, because I started doing the prostitution. He and I, made each other miserable, in a tug-of-war, for my soul, then, that was hard, on both of us. He was dealing with me as a, very carnal, Christian at the time, due to the mindset that I was in then. He knew I was acting out of my pain, though, so He didn't give up on me. That's one of the biggest reasons that I 'fell in love with' God! When, I was my most unlovable, and didn't even care anymore, about that, He still loved me and never gave up on me. So, as I begin to describe my life back then, I'll quote Bette Davis from the movie 'All About Eve' who said “Fasten your seatbelts. It's going to be a bumpy night.”**
I was my 'Stevie' self--- my dancer alter ego--- all, of the time, at this point. Deb was nowhere to be found. She (the true, or at the least original, me), would have been shocked at 'Stevie', had I allowed that side of me to be an active part of my lifestyle then. She would just get in my way. Besides, I was having too much fun, at the time. Deborah's, tender spirit, and broken heart, would 'cramp my style'. I had learned, perhaps, TOO WELL, to 'be' my dancer persona. Long gone, was the girl who didn't even want to climb up on a nightclub stage to do my first audition. That had even tried to run away, from doing that. The nurturing nursing assistant that Dick McGinnis, the Razzle Dazzle club manager, at the time, had said, of me, after my audition, that 'I was the GREENEST thing he'd ever seen but he thought he could make a dancer out of me'. It was a real transformation that happened. I had tried to find other employment, along the way, but that hadn't worked out so well, and I was steadily shedding the Disney sham that 'love would find its way to me'. Too many men, had played too many games, for me to even want that, now. I had learned my lessons well. I turned the tables on them now, and played some games of my own. That behavior was reinforced in me, by the fact that, the more superficial and flirty I was, the bigger and better my tips were, at the nightclub, I danced in. A 'successful' day, for me, was directly linked to the money I got, from men. That, was what, excited me, now. I had no use, for the rest, of their bullshit. None, of them, had any clue about that, though, because I flashed my flirty smile, and sometimes, my nipples, at them, at work, and made sure I was a sexy, sultry companion, to the men that asked me out, even on lunch dates, in the bright sun, of the day. I had fully developed, my look, my voice, my walk; turning heads, and igniting lust. I was one of the best dancers in Omaha then, performing at some of the best nightclubs in town. I had let it go to my head. The attention. And power!
I finally felt comfortable enough, to drink alcohol, at work. When someone drinks, that many hours a day, and has to sell a drink quota, every shift, it can add up to alot. Becoming numb, to its effects on me, I didn't even pay any attention to how many drinks I sold, so I was surprised when the waitress told me, one day, that I was now one of the club's highest drink sellers (probably in more ways than one). I was both irritated and scared by her concern, though, when she brought me my glass of wine, one night, and began asking me, if I was SURE, that I wanted wine. I kept answering her, that I did, but, she kept asking me, if I, really, wanted more of it. After all, I told myself, all I was ever drinking, at work, then, was Riunite. As I pointed that out, to her--- that, I wasn't doing shots, or drinking 'the hard stuff', she leaned in, and whispered in my ear, with real concern in her voice, "Yeah, but, Stevie, you're drinking TWO BOTTLES A NIGHT, yourself; and, they're the BIGGER ones!" I was surprised, at how that snuck up, on me, without me even realizing it. But, there was a real relief in keeping myself numb from the fear I felt, that I was not getting any younger; that my time in this career, was closing in, on me; and I hadn't found another career field that I enjoyed doing nearly as much as this one. And, that, there was NO PRINCE, coming to RESCUE ME, from the current, or, the impending crisis, that loomed over me, every day, while, I put on thicker, heavier, makeup, before heading off to work. Club customers, almost always, went for the younger ones. I had my fans, and, I had my following, for sure. And, I still looked good--- no doubt about that. Many men were still pursuing me on a regular basis. But, time was ticking, and it was not on my side. I didn't want to THINK, or FEEL!
For the most part, I had always gotten along well with the other dancers. Now, as I let things--- including, all that wine--- go to my head, I became 'a bitch' myself, at times. More of a diva. I was in a downward spiral, but I was too caught up in it to think about what I was doing, or why, on any soul-searching level. One day, as I was in a haze of drinks and ego, a timid, new girl, clearly, unsure of herself, was late getting to the stage, to relieve me there, after my performance. As she came up to me, she was apologetic, but I was in a bad mood (and, very probably, had a hangover too, from drinking day after day after day, for six 9-hour shifts a week). I just glared at her, as cold as ice, and SPIT ON HER. Right in her face. I think her name was Kaylee. It is so hard, to type this--- to talk about, how I was, then; but I told God that I wouldn't write this blog unless I was going to be truthful about it all, to the very best, of my ability. I have thought, of her, so many times, over the years, and would love to tell her how sorry I am, for doing that to her. There is no explanation, or excuse, for how I behaved, toward her. But, she deserves, to have my sincerest apology. Perhaps, God will lead her to find this blog post, and read it. I STILL want to cry, just thinking, about that, as I sit here, decades later, trying to describe this scene from my life. You know the WORST PART, of it, though? It was not the fact that I actually spit in her face. For no real reason. The WORST part of it, was that, she just stood there, contrite, looking at ME, as if, SHE DESERVED IT. That haunts me, to this day. That I treated her that way, and that she accepted it.
I was clearly out of control. It wasn't just the alcohol fueling that, though. I was a VERY TIRED dancer, too. Exhausted, actually. Mickey, didn't have enough dancers, at our sister club, the Razzle Dazzle (where my, Go-Go dancer, career had begun) so, he asked me, to do him a favor, and ALSO, work over there, on their day shift, BEFORE coming back over, to Omaha, from Council Bluffs, to do my night shift, at The Twenties. So, I was working, 11 AM to about 3:30 PM, then he sent his white, stretch, limousine, to pick me up, and, drive me over to, The Twenties, for my full shift, there. I was working, 14 hour days, 6 days a week, in a very physically, and psychologically, demanding job, and I was, clearly, cracking, under the strain. The chauffeur, would pick me up, at the Razzle, and drive me through some, fast food, drive-thru, so I could grab something to eat. That was the only food I got, all day, unless, I found time for breakfast--- which I, usually, didn't, because I needed my sleep--- or I'd packed a snack like a candy bar or cookie, to try to find time to eat at work, in between my dances on stage, sitting with customers and trying to sell my drink quota each shift. Pour two full, large, bottles of wine into my stomach in addition to what it wasn't getting, in food, or nutrition, and I was simply depleted, as a human being, in just about every way. I was a, 128-pound, 5'9", club dancer. I didn't drink at the Razzle Dazzle, because I felt so uncomfortable there now due to the management Mickey put in place, years after I had originally been hired, to work there. By the time I got to my shift at The Twenties I made up for it though.
[When The Twenties was just getting up and running, as Mickey's second venture, after the success of his Razzle Dazzle, he had his new manager at the Razzle who was an older woman named Fran do those auditions. She was married, but also a promiscuous bisexual, by all accounts, which, her husband was well aware of, and apparently, condoned. I met the man, myself, so I can state that, as a fact, based on our conversation. I had, already, worked for Mickey, of course, but, he told her to do the auditions, and she knew nothing about me. Since the songs came up on a jukebox, back then, a dancer, had to be able to dance, to ANY, of a wide variety, of songs, that happened to play. I landed on one that 99% of the dancers avoided dancing to, at all costs, but, that I, happened to do, extremely, well! David Rose's 'The Stripper'***. I have no idea if Fran 'set me up', by playing THAT song, during my audition, or not (because, there was, a way, to get into a jukebox, and place a record to play next, which, she may have had some employee do, for her, before I danced), but I got the last laugh, regardless. I had talked to her some, before the audition, and didn't like her, from the start. Fran, was a real BITCH, in my opinion.
As I had heard, and recognized, the FIRST NOTE of that song, I had IMMEDIATELY launched into my very seductive, striptease, movements, jaw-droppingly nuanced, to emphasize every, single, beat, of that song. After it was over, knowing, I nailed it, I made a huge mistake. I played my hand, too early, and Fran demoralized me, by taking advantage of that. As we started pay negotiations, I led, the discussion, quoting a higher base pay, than I had previously made, as a dancer, because now, I was CLEARLY WORTH THAT. Fran, GAVE it to me, BUT, as she drove me, alone in the car, with her, over to The Twenties, so I could start working in this brand, new, club, she conversationally 'felt me out', about, whether I, like many dancers were, was open to lesbian sexual activity (as in, with her). I was not only, celibate, but I have NEVER done ANYTHING along those lines, nor WANTED to. So I shut it down. As I prepared to go inside The Twenties, then, Fran just HAD to let me know, right before, I did that, that 'by the way, she would have, paid me ALOT more, after my audition but . . . she GAVE me, what I ASKED for, and she HOPED I would, learn a LESSON, from it'. I learned, that I loathed her, and I was so glad that she was not my manager, at The Twenties. Although, Fran did, occasionally, come over, there.]Now, that particular story has nothing to do with my doing prostitution, but it ties in to another story, that kind of does. So, back to describing, what I was like, just before, I decided to do that: Chauffeurs, like other employees, of Mickey's, would come and go. The one I liked best was John, because he was actually still capable of blushing, and just seemed like a still-sweet guy in a not-so-sweet-environment. It had been years, at that point, since I'd seen ANYONE, still capable, of blushing, including myself. I have described the, not-so-glamourous, underbelly, of the club business, in previous posts. It all, looks so exciting, from the outside, to a novice, or a club customer, but, the reality of it can sometimes really stink. One example: Mickey bought the limo, to shuttle the club customers between his two nightclubs, so they would spend, more, money at his establishments, and not get pulled over, for driving drunk. [The irony of THAT was that one night his LIMO got pulled over, and Rory, the driver then, was arrested for DUI, handcuffed and taken to jail. The cops, asked us, whether, anyone, in the back, was sober enough, or able to, drive this stretch limo. John, was hired, as the chauffeur, after that.] Mickey, kindly had his limo drive me home, after work, each night (unless, I had another ride, with a current boyfriend, or some, club customer, that I trusted enough, to get into their car, with them), as I lived en route between the two bars. The first time, I rode in it, felt exciting, because it was new, to me. But, that wore off, as soon as the first, of many, drunks, began to vomit, in the back seat area, where I was, also, sitting. There was a window, in between, the chauffeur, and the back seat, which, I would shove my suitcase of costumes through, and then, climb, through it, myself, while the limo was moving along the city streets, to escape, the risk of being splattered, and the strong smell, of vomit. It was, in no way, glamorous, to me, after all that.
Anyway, one night I found myself sitting, exhausted, and fairly drunk, in the back with a group of businessmen visiting from out of town, and one male employee of The Twenties, whom I knew well, who was headed over to Last Call, at the Razzle. It became obvious that all this testosterone in the limo with me (the only woman, present) was hungering, for MORE, of a 'SHOW', in the privacy, of the limo's back seat; and I decided to give it to them. The male club employee was someone that I had always thought was somewhat sexy, so I pulled down my costume bottoms, which I still had on, and allowed him to place the neck of an empty beer bottle, in me, from behind, doggie style, that one of them had, and use it like a dildo, while the guys watched. It really wasn't getting me off at all. It was all, just for 'SHOW', which, was what they WANTED. I uttered some fake moans, alot like, the scene in the diner in the movie "When Harry Met Sally"****, so it sounded like I was really having orgasms (which wasn't happening, because I was not emotionally invested in this semi-sex 'act', going down, in the backseat of the limo). I've heard, bottles can get stuck, inside there, so I don't recommend anybody try that! During this, I could see sweet John's face, in the rearview mirror, trying to keep the limo on the road while his eyes kept re-riveting themselves to the situation happening behind him. It was obvious, that he was turned on; that he thought my moans were real. He even had the blush, across his face, and, the dropped jaw, to prove it. When I arrived at my place, I got out, and went home, alone, and these men, in the limo, which included, John, the chauffeur, and the other employee, who used the bottle, as well as, the group, of about 4 out-of-towners, in Omaha for business purposes, drove on over to the Razzle which stayed open later than The Twenties in Omaha. I didn't even expect, or ask for, tips for that. I was just, casually letting off steam.
The next day, John came over to me as soon as I started my shift at The Twenties and he handed me, a bouquet of flowers, and some money, that the businessmen had told him to, make sure, that I got, for the 'entertainment' I had, so obligingly, provided for them, in the back of the limousine, the night before. He also said, he thought for sure that he was going to wreck the car, because of hearing me come. He told me, he had really been turned on by that, female, sensuality, I unleashed! He couldn't believe it, when I told him it was all fake. (The male ego will not allow men to believe that any woman would ever fake anything with men, because their deep insecurity couldn't bear knowing that; and wondering if it was being done by women that they themselves were with.) The flowers were so 'sweet', but useless, to me, in the mindset, I was in, in those days, and I told John so. Being, the really sweet guy, that he was, he had dutifully taken the men's money, and done exactly what they had asked him to do. He bought a large bouquet of flowers for me, and, gave me all of the money that was left over, after that, as well. It was, still, a nice amount of money. But, as I took it from him, and tucked it into my costume's bra top, before I went up on stage, for my dance, I told him that, I would have, much preferred, that he had skipped the FLOWERS, and just given me, only, the money.
A short while later, Fran just 'happened' to come over, to The Twenties, that same day. I passed by her, without bothering to make eye contact (because, to me, she was a bitch that SAID TO MY FACE that she shorted me on base pay, to 'teach me a lesson'). I could still see her looking at me though, with shock on her face, as if she were, struggling, unsuccessfully, to recalculate, everything, she ever thought, she knew, about 'Stevie'. I smirked, to myself, triumphantly, seeing that from her. That bitch, wanted me, but, she would NEVER HAVE ME. EVER. She hated me, for that, all the years I knew her; but I hated her, more. I guess we had BOTH taught each other a LESSON! Denny, the manager at The Twenties, told me later on, that evening, that Fran heard about the 'limo incident', when that car pulled up, to the Razzle, afterward, and the men in the limo started talking about it inside that bar. She didn't DARE ask ME, about it, because of our mutual, cold-as-ice relationship, with one another. But, she was still, DYING, TO KNOW! She JUST COULDN'T HELP HERSELF. Fran had gotten other girls to 'lick her pussy', as one, extremely, drunk, female, bartender, stated, one night, right in front, of Fran, and me, during a limo ride. But, she couldn't, have ME, and she knew it, and hated that. I just smiled at Denny, whom she had sent to FIND OUT FOR HER, if it was REALLY TRUE, and he smiled back at me, with a mutual knowing. I had done it. STEVIE, of ALL PEOPLE! The girl, LEAST LIKELY, to EVER, REALLY, BE WILD. ME! It had been a, spur of the moment, decision, but, I went with it. It was the first time I'd ever done anything remotely like that, with anyone, at any time, in all my years, working as a dancer.
Would having love in my life, have saved me, from going down that road? Maybe, but love, was nowhere around, and hadn't been, for my entire life. So, in a way, I thought, to myself, there's nothing left, for me, to wait for, or hope for, or believe in; so, what difference does it make? All I had ever wanted to be, from the time I was a very little, and very sweet, girl was to be a homemaker in a loving, decent, Christian, home. But, despite my BEST efforts, it had eluded me. If I had thought I was, damaged goods, before, when my half-first cousin had partially penetrated me, after getting me drunk, for the first time in my life, when I was only 18 years old, causing me to leave a college education behind, to marry him, because I had believed I had to, then, I DEFINITELY thought of myself as, damaged goods, now. I had been through 5 divorces, from 4 different men, by this time. I didn't believe anyone would ever love me. It seemed to me, that no one ever, really, had, and I had lost all faith that anyone ever was going to, now, either. At least men wanted me; or my dancer persona, 'Stevie', which was a power trip in itself, that became where I now placed my assessment of my worth, as a human being. My EGO was inflated, now, but my SELF-ESTEEM was shot, because of all the times I had been unloved, mistreated, and abused, especially by those that I loved, from my family of origin, to husbands, to even the stranger that raped me when I was 21, saying, as he did so, "I just want to know if you can love!" Love had become a dirty word.
I got bitchier, and bitchier, having to work at both clubs, to help Mickey out, while he was short of dancers, for the Razzle. Because Fran managed that club, I hated being in there; even more than I did, just because it made my work days so long. She was not a dumb bimbo. Fran. She knew she needed the help, I provided, and she kept her distance from me, when I was working over there. One day, though, totally tired of working so many hours, I got dropped off for my night shift at The Twenties, after I finished, my shift, over at the Razzle, and I just lost it. I threw a real hissy fit, screaming and slamming the dressing room door. It was clear that I just couldn't keep up this pace--- to everyone, within earshot of me. I needed my life back! I needed balance. And SLEEP. And FOOD. Back, in my life again. I was a wreck. I didn't even recognize myself, anymore. So, I quit the Razzle, and started working only, my 9 hour shift, 6 nights a week, at The Twenties, then. My life had some free time, each day, I could use for nurturing myself, which I really needed. As, a stage performer, I always had to be 'ON'--- smiling, sexy, upbeat, vivacious. I had to keep that up even when I wasn't at work, because alot of customers saw me out and about. I, also, went out, with various ones, of them, and other men, I met, for regular dates also. So, I had to invest alot of time, in fixing myself up, to look really attractive, and sexy, every single day, unless I was going to stay in my apartment--- with the window shades drawn--- all day long (which I never did). I developed a routine, to try to have some much-needed 'ME' Time. Time to myself and some privacy to recharge my drained, mental, and emotional, batteries, so to speak. I had to be so social in my job, because I was required to sit and converse with people, there, that I HATED having to talk, to anybody, for very long, when I was off work, unless I had real reason to. I JUST WANTED TO BE LEFT ALONE, IN PEACE, for a few hours each day, if I could POSSIBLY achieve that GOAL. >sigh!<
It was hard to find any real privacy, living in the middle of downtown Omaha, and then right in the Old Market, during my years as a dancer. These were the busiest and most populated parts of the city most of the time. Many people are employed in the downtown office buildings. The Old Market is Omaha's top tourist attraction as well as, being beloved and frequented by the locals. Big Festivals are also held there. I tried my best to carve out a place to have as much privacy as possible, in the afternoons. I worked until 1 AM, went to bed around 3 AM and woke about 11 AM. That gave me about 4 hours, to do something to nurture myself, before I had to start getting ready for work, when I worked at clubs like, the Backdoor Lounge, which started at 6 PM, but only a couple of hours, to myself, when working at The Twenties, which started its shift at 4 PM. That time, to myself, was something that I desperately needed. One day, I was walking in the park, downtown, which was a couple of blocks from my apartment. I sat down on a park bench, and was looking out over the pond, in the middle, when I noticed, a group of 3 people, sharing pot, with one another. Suddenly a small, skinny, bald, man, jumped out, at them, from the bush, that was just behind them. Recognizing the bright yellow polo shirt, and black pants, I realized, that, this guy, was one of the, Omaha Police Department's, bike patrol, officers. As I watched him, confront, the very mellow group, over their illegal activity, in this public space, I tried not to laugh at him. Honestly, he looked JUST LIKE, 'BARNEY FIFE'--- the fictional, high-strung, bumbling, law enforcement officer, from the Andy Griffith TV show*****. These people in the park, were in no way, intimidated, by this, little, guy. This cop. I smiled, as I watched their, comical, interaction, remembering, that, Barney Fife, used to say, "Nip it! Nip it in the bud!" "Bud" is, also, another name for marijuana, which made, this association, between Fife******, and this, real-life, law enforcement officer, even more amusing, to me. This cop, just came across, as a clown. It was the first time, I ever noticed Darren. I'd never met, or spoken to him, but that day he became 'Bald Barney Fife' to me. I had no idea, at the time, how NOT funny, having him patrol, where I lived, would become, for me. This, cop, was going to become, a complete nightmare, in my life.
** https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3vEEh0GF_C8 Video of the Bette Davis quote, from the movie "All About Eve". The line is often misquoted, so I included the actual footage, of that moment in the movie, here.
*** DAVID ROSE "THE STRIPPER" - YouTube
**** When Harry Met Sally - Restaurant Scene - YouTube where she demonstrates that women can fake orgasms, if they so desire.
***** Don knotts as Barney fife try to riding a bike on the sidewalk but Andy stop him - Bing video
****** Barney Fife- Nip It in the bud - Bing video
