I found photographs from my dancer days

Recently, I started sorting through 3 old trunks I had, and came across alot of old photos, from the various chapters of my life. SO MANY MEMORIES, came flooding back, as I looked at each picture, including, a few I found from my dancer days. I don't have a scanner to scan them in. All I can do for right now is photograph the pictures using my cellphone camera, send them to my email, and then save them to my computer, to share here, in my blog post. They can provide a photographic account of this significant chapter of my life (with, more, still to cover, on this era of my life, at some point). They say that a picture is worth a thousand words. My pictures document things that I have been describing in my blog posts, about my dancer days. There are people who have heard my life story but find it difficult to believe, as I describe, ALL the TWISTS, AND TURNS, that my life has taken. I am, a VERY HONEST person, though. TRUTH, MATTERS, ALOT, TO ME. These pictures, clearly corroborate what I have been describing in my blog posts about becoming a nightclub dancer. They show the progression from the new girl to seasoned pro.

The first 3 photos, were taken at Mickey's 'Razzle Dazzle', in Council Bluffs, Iowa, when I first started dancing. In photo 1 and 2 I'm wearing the very first costume that I ever had, which was the fake fur one, that the other dancers had given me so that I could start working. It didn't have elastic in it at all. It was just strips of fake fur, cut into the shape of a bikini. Although, it doesn't show, I was wearing a pair of pantyhose, pinned in, to the costume bottom, which was required, by law, there, at the time. They were nude-colored, so they were, almost, invisible to the eye. They made the bikini bottom slide to the side, though, when I did leg raises, as I danced on stage. I HAD NO IDEA that was even happening, until a customer, who was seated by the stage, told me about it, as I lifted my leg over his head. I also, heard the, slang, expression, 'Shooting beaver', for the first time, from him. He had to tell me, what that even meant! I was so naive, coming into that career. In photo 3 I was still working at the Razzle as a brand new dancer, when this was taken, of me, but I finally had a costume made of fabric, with elastic to help keep it in place on my body. Those costumes were not that big to start with! As for my body shape, I have never been big in the breast area, but, I have great legs, and  a 'bubble' butt. Both, of which, were assets in dancing on stage. In photo 4 I was no longer working at the Razzle, nor was I, so new, and naive, anymore, which is evident, in the picture, based on my makeup, hairstyle, costume, and expression. This picture, of me, was taken during one of the times I worked at, the 'Backdoor Lounge', in Omaha, Nebraska. That, and 'The Twenties', were my 2 favorite clubs.

                                                        Photo 1 

  Photo 2

                                                                        Photo 3

                                                                         Photo 4

As I continued, sorting through that old trunk, I found, this photo, of me, at 'The Twenties' nightclub in Omaha, Nebraska, where I live. I was going in for my work shift, that was normally 4 PM to 1 AM, there, in those days. (I have skinny arms.) At that time, 'The Twenties' (one of Mickey's clubs) had a live band playing in the main room, for couples to dance, and in the back, the smaller, but more intimate-feeling 'Show Girl' room, where I danced. I LOVE TO DANCE! I would occasionally take a night off, and inevitably I would show up at the club, to go dancing, to the live band music. When I went to a flea market in Sheepshead Bay, Brooklyn with my, third, husband, Tom, who was from Brooklyn, New York, I got a black t-shirt, with my (dancer) name "STEVIE" on it, that had little lights, that blinked, off and on (like the lights in the Go Go bars that I worked in did), around my name, that ran off a battery pack that was hidden underneath the t-shirt, when I wore it. I'd wear that, with jeans, when I went to the main room, at 'The Twenties', to let off steam, and dance, WITH guys, instead of, FOR guys back in the 'Showgirl Room'. That shirt was a big hit with people! Eventually, the nightclub stopped having live bands play in the main room and made the entire place into one large Go Go bar. 

[NOTE: I found the business card, for the place that I got the t-shirt, as I kept on sorting through all of the papers, pictures, and mementos, in my trunk. Here is a photo of the card. I wasn't able to find a photo of me wearing the t-shirt though.]

I had enjoyed getting to know all the guys in the bands. I would listen in on their rehearsals some days, when I was getting dressed to dance on stage, that night, instead of, being out front, to see them perform, when we opened, to the public, that evening. I have never felt like I ever get ENOUGH of listening to, dancing to, and, singing to, MUSIC! There was one crazy night that I was dancing with a guy out front, to the band's last song, of the night, when I got this idea, to throw my BRA up onto the stage while they were playing. I reached underneath my t-shirt, unhooked it, and slipped it off, under there, one strap at a time. Then, I tossed it up on the stage, from where I was, still, dancing on the crowded dance floor. The band members looked stunned, but kept singing, and playing their instruments. I don't think that anything like that had EVER happened to THEM, before, based on their surprised looks. One, of the guitar players, picked up my bra, from, where it had landed by his feet, on the stage floor, and he hung it on the end of his guitar, while he played the rest of the song! But then, it was MY turn to be shocked now!

Something, that I did NOT expect, happened. Suddenly, several women, from the crowd on the dance floor, started taking off their bras and tossing them up on the stage along with mine. The band just kept playing the whole time and EVERYONE was REALLY ENJOYING JOINING IN, on this youthful fun! I bet that band ALWAYS REMEMBERED THAT NIGHT, at 'The Twenties'. A funny note, about that, though. I wasn't shy about taking my clothes off, at that point, because I was a trained and seasoned, professional, nightclub, entertainer. But, the 'regular' women, were not as outgoing or brave, about taking their bras off, that night, though. How would I know? I was THE ONLY WOMAN, who walked right up, to the stage, after that last song, as the crowd started to leave, the club, at closing, and CLAIMED MY BRA! I told that guitar player, "That's MY bra, hanging on your guitar. May I have it back, please?" (I think he wanted to keep it, as a 'souvenir', of a, memorable, night!) It was a very nice bra, so I wasn't willing to permanently part with it yet. He gave it  back to me, with a grin on his face! NONE of the OTHER women came forward, to claim their bras, though. Every one of them, as I recall, were too shy to ask for it. You HAVE to learn to be OUTGOING, to be a dancer, and I had learned that WELL.

That trunk, seemed like it was a bottomless pit, of photos, and old but significant papers. >sigh!< I kept working on sorting it, bit by bit, day by day, hoping to get this 'project' finished. I tossed out alot of things, that don't have any meaning for me anymore, as I went. I also found some that reminded me of times and things that I had forgotten about. Some were better forgotten, but some were precious, and bittersweet, memories for me. Especially, letters and cards I had gotten from my second husband, Jim, from, back when, we dated, then, lived together, during our tech schools at Keesler Air Force Base in Biloxi, Mississippi, and before we got married (he really stopped, communicating, with me, after we got married, which was heartbreaking, for me, and, of course, distanced me, from him, emotionally). Even though, he IS, the ONE man that, I know, I will love forever, we just weren't right for each other, as it turned out. He showed me, again and again, going back to when we dated, actually (although, I was too much in love, with him, to take it as seriously as I should have), that his top priorities in his life were (1) his career and climbing his, ambitious, ladder to success in that area, and (2) other peoples' opinions of him--- and therefore (by extension, as his woman) ME. I wasn't EVER even in his Top Three things, that he cherished in his life, because he also put the preferences of his parents over anything that I thought, or felt, about any of that. He showed me, that he, really, didn't even care, about that! My son, Jay, retorted to me, once, in an email to me, that I made him feel bad, by telling him the truth about Jim and I becoming pregnant, with him, and getting married, because of it.

He, also, responded to my telling him some, painful, things that I went through in my own life, as me "complaining", rather than sharing, to help him know me, and better understand things about the family dynamic. He said, I was telling him, he was "a mistake", and I never said that. People, the world over, find themselves in the situation of dealing with unplanned pregnancies, every day. Jay resulted from one of those. But, to ME, besides the fact that I LOVED MY BEAUTIFUL BABY BOY,  I chose to have him--- when, everyone else was saying for me to get an abortion, at first--- BECAUSE, he resulted from, my DEEP LOVE FOR JIM, who was, the love of my life, to this day. THAT, MAKES JAY SOMEONE EXTREMELY PRECIOUS TO ME; so, I was hurt, by his response about it. I can't get him to see through my eyes. I tried, but it was obvious he just wanted to, distance, himself, from me, by all that he did and said, in our email exchanges over a couple of months. So I let him go, again, as it felt to me, like that was, really, what he wanted. I had only contacted him, in the first place (after he had already blown me off completely, starting two decades before; leaving me hanging, all that time), to see if he wanted to use the energy, angst, and conflicting feelings, involved in his relationship with me, as his actual (birth!) mother, to write some songs together. His goal had always been to 'make it big', as an entertainer, and I was THE family member, with experience in that field, as well as, THE family member, that WROTE SONGS--- like, HE does--- ever since I was a little girl (some, of which, I found, in the trunks that I sorted).

I figured, we could collaborate, online, etc., and see what we could come up with. After all, he would not be any worse off, for our efforts, and I wanted to, and was willing to, do my very best to help him, anyway I could, to reach his desired goal.

'No harm, no foul', as they say, if nothing good came out of it. But, because he is turning 40, this year (which, is middle-aged), and still hasn't obtained his biggest dream in life, Jay's accessing, such 'emotionally charged', thoughts, and feelings,  could, lead to some songs, that could spark something, to happen, for him, in his music career goals. My first outreach, to him, on YouTube, challenged him to first write some lyrics or a song, with me, through the internet. I was well aware that, for whatever his reasons, he had chosen in his twenties to cut all communication, with me, after we had been close before and able to talk about anything with one another, through the years. So he had, already, rejected me, which hurt me, alot, and confused me. So, IT TOOK ALOT for me to reach out to him at all! I sincerely wanted to HELP HIM IF I COULD, though! THAT was my ONLY purpose, in getting in touch with him, after being blown off, by him, so long ago. I had kept track, of his career trajectory, online, and read his thoughts and posts about it, on various sites over the years. So, I knew, that he was nowhere near where he dreamed of being, with his music career. I thought that, my input certainly couldn't hurt, and could even help jumpstart something for him. So I TRIED. Right away though his reaction left me feeling uncomfortable; so I regretted it. Because I LOVE MY SON though, and sincerely HOPED I COULD HELP, I tried, to reestablish some rapport, with him, then, to see if I could get him to open up, to me, so I could, again, ask him, to try, to write some songs, with me, for his use. It never went well, though.

He kept me at a distance, emotionally; was polite--- at first--- but kept me out of his, personal, life now, and ended up, telling me, that, 'respect is earned', as in, I haven't EARNED HIS, by implication, besides telling me, that what I shared made him FEEL bad. THOSE were the EMOTIONS that I was TRYING to TAP INTO, as do all successful musicians, to use them in their songwriting, so listeners can FEEL it and RESONATE with it. Those carry the stuff of SONGS! I also noticed, though, in our emails, that Jay 'inherited' his father's, and stepmother's, penchant for, being generally pleasant, to everyone, at all times, even when superficiality is required, to do that, which doesn't serve songwriting well, at all; and Jay was allowing that to cause him to 'self-censor' the much more real and raw emotions and thoughts, that he had. None, of this, makes for good songwriting; which is why, I wanted to be real, with him, and try, to set his, emotional, communication free, finally. I got that, but AIMED AT ME. >sigh!< They say, the pathway to hell is paved with good intentions. His father found the wife he needed, to support his life goals, because they, strongly, prefer maintaining a likeable image, at all times, over raw and real substance, like I tend toward, which I think is a LARGE PART of THE REASON that my son's music isn't anywhere close to hitting the Billboard Top 40. I have always loved Jay's father above all others; BY FAR. But, I was miserable when he wanted me to join in to his, social, superficiality, and I just didn't want to live my life that way. Sometimes, whether with a man, a woman will always love, or a child that a mother has given birth to and loves, LOVE JUST ISN'T ENOUGH to CONQUER ALL.

I am 65 now, and officially a 'little old lady', complete with gray hair that is often in a bun atop my head and an expression on my face that appears tired from my journey through this life. My bearing the brunt, and the blows, of my life, left me broken, in many ways, and has had a, noticeable, draining-me-dry, effect, on my vitality, and peace of mind. It's, all, taken its toll, on me, to be sure! I am TIRED. My profile photo, for my blog, is from 'my blond era' during my fifties. I have not wanted to update it to my gray-haired self yet, because I am too miserable in my current living situation, in this apartment that I have 'existed' in, for the last four years, to even, be able, to take a, happy, or, upbeat, photograph, of myself. I am hoping, that I will be able to get to a better place, in my life, physically, mentally, and emotionally, and hopefully rejuvenate MY SOUL, from its extremely unhappy life here. I want to recover and recuperate, from my horribly stressful time here, and then take a current photo that reflects me feeling better, than I do now. The September blog post will be expounding on what I am referring to in more detail. But, these photographs of me with dark brunette hair show my original hair color.

The photo, below, is of me, at the Backdoor Lounge, before the lights went down, and the 'magic' happened with the darkness glistening with mirror ball reflections and the sexy music pulsating through everyone's body. It is fluffy, white, fake fur.  I made the pink costume, in the picture following this one. I did all the beadwork, on it, myself, too-- one bead at a time-- so that it had movement when I danced!  I was standing at the, unglamorous, dressing room door, at the Backdoor Lounge, as I was about to go out into the club, to start my 7-hour shift there for the night. I LOVED the 80s! The big hair, the dance music, the party-feel to the decade. . . . It was such a fun time to be alive and young! I really liked the Disco days. It was all the perfect backdrop, for my living much more 'superficially', as, my alter ego, 'Stevie'. I wasn't my, usually, more spiritual self, during those years. I was trying to distract myself from alot of heartbreak, and deep, genuine, grief, that I had in my life. This, was a lighthearted decade, which helped me feel alot more upbeat! 

    

If you compare, one of my very first dancer photos (such as, the first one, below) to photographs taken of me later on in my dancer career, you can really see what  I have been describing in my posts about being my alter ego 'Stevie', when I was a dancer in the nightclubs, and how I gradually grew into that persona, by either, evolving, or devolving, into that, depending on your perspective about it. I LIVED IT, so, I would have to say that, honestly, it was, A BIT OF BOTH, of those things.

  

I made this green costume. At first I didn't know how to really dance this way, or make my own costumes (although I knew how to sew). Then I began to improve as a nightclub entertainer, as I learned the ropes, dancing, on stage, as the LIVE ENTERTAINMENT, that people came to see (mostly men, but not always men--- I had a couple of female customers that came to see me dance, too!). Eventually I began sewing many of my costumes myself, as part of my creative expression of what I wanted 'Stevie' to look like, up on stage. As I made more in tips I had the seamstress, Lee, make my costumes. She had started out in the business--- but, making costumes--- at the same time that I started in the business, as a dancer, at the Razzle Dazzle, years before. Just as I had progressed as a dancer, Lee had become an excellent seamstress. Her costume creations sold for alot of money. I simply told her I wanted a certain style or color of costume, and she made it, for me. Once I called her up and asked her to make me costumes in all of the colors that I didn't yet have, in my collection. I had the money, to pay her for her skills. 

The following two pictures were taken of me at 'The Twenties' nightclub on one of my nights off, when I still went out, to the very nightclub that I worked in-- in the 'Show Girl' room-- to go dancing in the main room where the live bands played. I had a good friend, Neil, who was the sound man for one of the bands. When they played there, he would set the sound controls, and come out onto the dance floor to dance with me. I have a photograph of Neil, dancing with me, and my bouncer boyfriend (for a short while), Tim, dancing with me while I was wearing the outfit in the picture below. But, I didn't include them here, because the photos seemed too dark, to show up well enough. I might decide to try, to add them, later on, to this post, though. Dancing was my job but also my passion! I really enjoyed it! It was great, to have a job that, felt like play, and paid well, too! I think that Denny, the club manager, at 'The Twenties', took these two photos of me. He didn't mind, a bit, if I, partied, there, on my nights off-- I was good for business, either way. I kept their customers happy! Dancing, FOR guys, in the 'Show Girl' room, or WITH them, in the main ballroom, they were enjoying themselves. I had alot of fun too! 

The photo above was taken during my Riunite period, when I was drinking at the club. For, most, of my dancer career, I did not drink, any alcohol, though. I drank juice, or coffee. I just knew that it would be bad for my health and age me faster. It would also make me more vulnerable, and subject me to potential danger also. As I have described, in previous posts, about dancing in these nightclubs, it could be a very dangerous place to allow yourself to be vulnerable, or to let your guard down. Being drunk certainly causes both those conditions. At least it did with me.

"Pride, goes before destruction, a haughty spirit, before stumbling." (Proverbs 16:18)

Slip Slidin' Away*

Song by Paul Simon

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

Sometimes, my blog posts have followed one another in a sequential narrative; at least, for awhile. I was going to try to do that, more fully, before I wrote this post, but I write each one of these when I feel that I can deal with the subject matter. I realize that, there is still so much needing to be said, about things I've been (put) through, in my life. Things, that all converged, to contribute to 'the delinquency of Deborah', which I will address, in detail, as I begin to describe the causes and the circumstances of my doing prostitution. To really grasp, how this could happen, to 'the girl least likely' to do this type of thing, you will need to take into account, all, that I have, already, shared about my life. Especially, my being so let down by the men in my life, from my father failing me, on down the line. Each one devastating me. Damaging me. Teaching me that I wasn't worth loving. That I wasn't precious to them. That I wasn't valued, or worthy of being respected or protected by them.

There are people who would try to give an easy explanation of how, and why, this happened, with me. They would jump at the chance to say that, it was because of the environment, I was working in, as an exotic dancer, in the Gentlemen's Clubs. However, if it were as simple as that, then I wouldn't have waited until almost the end, of my fairly long dancer career, when I was in my early forties, to do it. After all, I was propositioned, in some way, or other, by men, almost, every shift, that I worked, in these bars, and often by, several, different, men, in a night. Time after time, man after man, again and again, wanting to have sex with me. So, it should be obvious that, all those men, pressuring, and pawing, me, didn't, in themselves, tempt me, or, simply wear me down. I remained firm in my resolve, not to do sex for money, throughout, the majority of my time, working as a dancer, in the clubs. As strange as this may seem to others, reading this, my workplace was never the source of my motivation. But, it did provide the means, once I made the decision; and it was a conscious choice, that I made, which I take full responsibility for, and am accountable to God for. Men's behaviors toward me, definitely injured my soul, to the point that, doing prostitution became the expression of my anger, and pain, and they will also be held accountable by God, for their trifling with a tender heart.

More than that, I was also, a rape survivor, who used to be so traumatized, that it took my truly, deeply, loving one man (Ascent Through The Dark Night Of The Soul: My Life Reflections: The One Man That I Would Love Forever) to, really, be rehabilitated, by him, to function well sexually. Also, in spite of being my alter ego, 'Stevie', when I was at work, which was more of a steamy, sexualized, version, of myself, Deborah was still in there, somewhere. I knew that; because I was strictly celibate 99.99% of the time, when I was a dancer, and even when the other girls teased me, that I was silly to 'wait for love', and that I had better use my 'money maker' while I still could, I still believed, in my heart of hearts, that love would, surely, finally find me someday. I was wrong about that, as it turned out, but the hope of it still 'kept me in line' during most of those years, until I eventually was so turned off to men that I stopped wanting that. So what caused me to do prostitution? It was complicated. But, my no longer being able to believe I would ever be loved, was a big part of it.

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=qSx2HIi4dFg

** 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 

The Men In My Life When I Was A Dancer

The men. 

Where to start, describing them, and their various effects on me, from during my dancer years.

When I was in the Air Force, I was really struggling, with how to exist, in a healthy, happy, way, in an environment where men far outnumbered me and the other females there. 99.99% of the time, I felt like I was a pursuit, to them, and not a person. That wasn't a good way to feel to me. To be truly known, and really loved, for who I am, which my heart had always yearned for, was something that the limitations of men's lust didn't allow for. As a dancer in the nightclubs, I was once again in an environment which was populated mostly by men, and, more understandably, at least, given the atmosphere, with that same mindset of men toward me. Although my having been a dancer, and eventually doing prostitution, during this time in my life, seems, at least, by stereotype, to contradict this statement---  I have never actually been into such strictly physical involvements. I have always been someone who does not want or welcome any type of casual sexual relationships; in my body, or my life. I have known plenty of people, that seem eager, to jump into that type of thing, with little if any thought. I find such behavior to be truly concerning. On the deepest, truest, levels, physically, mentally, emotionally, and, even spiritually, I can only connect my sexuality with something that I feel deeply, in my heart, for someone special. Even when I have tried to project the opposite of that outwardly, at times, for whatever reason, it has always only been an act. My 'Stevie' side, I developed for my dancing career, was, also, never turned on, by men asking me, if my pubic hair was shaved into a heart shape, or, if my nipples were large or small, and telling me they would be great in bed if I would just give in to that with them. Honestly, that kind of thing always just grossed me out, even when the guys were good-looking or had other positive attributes aside from these common come-ons that I had to listen to every single shift I worked, as a dancer. >sigh< It was an inevitable and unavoidable part of the job. Maybe, I was the only girl, there, that felt this way, about it. But, what I enjoyed, about this job, was the dancing. Expressing myself!  Albeit, even my sexuality, and passion, to some extent. In reality, I kept all of that locked away, inaccessible, to these men, beneath my normal reserve, and even aversion, to males making advances when they made it clear that love and a real relationship had nothing to do with their attention or intention, toward me. This crap was simply a nuisance to me that I had to put up with, as a trade-off for a real sense of satisfaction and enjoyment, I got, from performing, up on the stage, interpreting the music, with my dance.

Since the stereotype about dancers led me to believe that I would almost certainly not find real love, in any of the Go Go bars that I was working in, despite my constant interactions with men in them, it, therefore, also felt like a relief to me, to be going into such places, where I would no longer even expect that, to happen, in my life. I wouldn't have to feel that it was because I was unlovable, anymore. Now I could attribute not finding it, not having it, to my job, instead of who  I was as a person. Guys did not see dancers as real people. They saw dancers as sex objects and fodder for their fantasies. They pictured us as always wearing sequins, not sweatpants, in their mind. If they wanted to see or get to know 'real' girls, they wouldn't come in those places, to begin with. What these men wanted, when they came into the Go Go bars, was an escape! From reality. I was a very real woman though, with a heart made of flesh not stone, which had been ripped apart, by what too many men had already put me through in my life. I would get a PhD-level education about males, from my becoming a dancer, and logging so many hours of conversations, and interactions, with them, over many years, in those nightclubs. They did not come in there wanting to meet a real human being. I had to learn to play the part, and be their fantasy; but, that didn't just serve the purposes of these men. I created a persona (my dancer alter ego, Stevie), who was protectively positioned in front of the 'real' me, and stood strong. I was already completely brokenhearted, and, could, potentially, be hurt, even more. By any, of these men. Stevie did not let them in, behind the mask, to see Deborah there, vulnerable, and hurting. Curled up, in a fetal position, sobbing her heart out. I had to create, and then develop, Stevie, though. I was dancing as Debby, when I started, my first night at the Razzle Dazzle as a Go Go girl, and that was simply not going to work--- to put someone, still that naive, trusting, and good-hearted into this arena surrounded by people that were completely comfortable in a world that I did not yet understand, or know how to navigate, in a way that protected me, from further physical or emotional harm. I would most definitely have been destroyed in some form or fashion, if I had continued, to expose my 'Debby' side, to this job. As soon as I was able, to comprehend enough about being a dancer, to know, what I needed to do, to survive and even thrive doing it, I brought 'Stevie' to the forefront, of me, and I let, that side, take over, in my life.

I eventually evolved fully into my dancer alias 'Stevie'.  It finally became who I was without my thinking about or trying to become that persona anymore. It was quite a change in many ways from who, and what, 'Debby' had been. In some ways, that was a release, and a relief. Debby was drained by takers and users. Stevie recognized peoples' crap when she saw it and made sure they knew she wasn't having it from them or anyone, even with just one steely-eyed look at them and not a word said*. I had NO time or energy to suffer fools gladly. (I still don't to this day, after living my life that way then! That was just part of the legacy that Stevie left me when she became who I was; and who I still am, to a large extent. All my decisions and movements had a purpose in my life when living as Stevie, supporting my own goals and my own agenda. My sweet, sacrificial, warm-heartedness cooled, down to frost-bite-level, toward gameplayers, assholes, and idiots, which this world apparently has a surplus of, based on how many I have met, and had to deal with, in my own life. While there were always nuances and traces, of the other side of me, no matter which side I was leading with, in my life, at any given time, Stevie was alot more assertive, as far as interacting with other people, because she had to be, to be  a dancer. She, was my stage presence. I could not have done that job, as long, or as well, if I had not created and developed that persona. I am not, by nature, always all that comfortable, being around other people. Especially, in unfamiliar, or stressful, social settings; as 'Deborah'. 'Stevie' was my outgoing side. Going up to strangers or having them come up to me, at work, night after night, was one of the most difficult parts of the job for me. As I said, because I was required, to sit, and talk, with all types of men, who came into these clubs, as part of my job, I eventually obtained, the equivalent of, an unofficial PhD in Male Psychology. It came down to my knowing, almost word for word, what would come out of a guy's mouth before I ever even approached him, simply based on his body language, when he walked in the door of the club. It was foolproof so much of the time that it was almost like a science, it was so certain. It was, also, so disappointing, and discouraging, to me.  All these men, being this predictable in their carnality, and superficiality. Their horniness, and often, misogyny, was always at the forefront.

I admit, that, during my dancer years, especially because I was surrounded by so much of this type of mindset from the males that I had to interact with at work, six nights a week, there was also a certain level of prick-tease payback, I did, toward these men, for all the ways and times they had, and still, continued to, fail me, throughout my life. And, worse, done me actual harm. Some would say, that 'Stevie' was the dark side, of me, and in some ways, and at some times, I would agree, with that. But 'Stevie' also stood up for herself and didn't take crap off of people, and gave herself permission to dismiss someone from her presence with an emphatic, "FUCK OFF!" when she felt that to be necessary. 'Stevie' enjoyed a freedom from the constraints and shackles of others' opinions, and expectations, which, had held me hostage, for my whole life, before that, as Deborah; the good girl, who had no choice, because she had no voice. 'Stevie' was brought to the forefront, from the depths, of me, to run things, much more, on HER terms, for awhile. No, I am not describing a split personality. I simply, ascribed certain characteristics, and permissions, to my alter ego, socially, when I created that, 'Stevie' persona, to work in the nightclubs, in order to survive, this whole, new, world, which I had now become a part of, as a dancer in the Go Go bars of the Omaha area. For better, or for worse, as far as the effect of it on me, and on my life, 'Stevie', was the part of me, that could cope with, living that kind of life. As a case in point of my summoning 'Stevie' to carry that kind of confident vampiness off, one day, several years, after I, finally, had to retire, from dancing, I was walking down the sidewalk alongside one of Omaha's busiest streets (S.72nd Street) headed to a fast food restaurant for my lunch break, from the large book store that I now worked in, as a cashier. As I spotted The Twenties night club, not far down, from there, on a side street, those memories of my dancing there for years came back to me. I was having a crappy workday at the bookstore. I was paid minimum wage there working for people who didn't appear to ether recognize, or respect, my value. I was feeling pretty discouraged. So, when I saw, the nightclub, those memories raised up that feisty, take no crap, 'Stevie' side of me, and I burst into doing my Stevie walk--- a very sleek, and sexy, runway, kind of confident stride--- just to lift my spirits some. I wasn't thinking about anyone actually watching me, until I heard the SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEECH of a car, trying to brake very abruptly, and then the sound of the car hitting something in the street.  I turned to look behind me, to see where that startling noise was coming from, and saw a guy, still staring at ME, from the driver's seat, of that car, with a look of bewildered disbelief, on his face, as reality, had, literally, come crashing back, into his life, from whatever place of fantasy watching me walk that way had transported him. He had run into the median, in the center of the street, and hit the stop sign, that he didn't even see; until it was too late. Ah, the power, of  a certain type of a woman's walk on a man . . . . It's amazing to me. I hope he had insurance!

Sometimes the club customers 'courted me' romantically, in ways that were somewhat bizarre. I had a regular customer, at the Backdoor Lounge, who was actually a fairly young, unmarried, minister, from Louisville, Nebraska, about a 30 minute drive, from Omaha. He felt fairly secure that none of his parishioners would find him, sitting in a Go Go bar, that distance away, and he was tired of being single, but, equally tired of well-meaning church women trying to set him up with what he saw as their dull and dowdy daughters. Even though he was a 'man of the cloth', he explained to me that he had the normal, male, desire for something that was more exciting in a woman; especially, one he would consider marrying. He was average looking, and a nice enough man, although, not particularly captivating company, for me. But, he made a pleasant and preferred regular, for me, in the nightclub, because I tended to keep the nicer guys as my regulars. I had no desire, to deal with the guys that were just jerks. In there, or anywhere else. Since I am a Christian, and actually fairly well versed in all things 'Christian'--- which, seemed to surprise many, since, I was a dancer, and therefore, bucking their stereotype, of me, in that way--- we had that foundational background in common. However, one night, he offered me a ride home, after work, after I'd known him for some time, and he pulled this hand puppet from the back seat of his car, put in on his hand, explained to me that it was the same one he used every Sunday, to give the Children's Sermon portion of the church service, and then used it to speak to me, for him, about the naughty little things it (he) fantasized about doing to my body!  I cooled, toward him, completely, after that, because, now, I pictured him, using that thing with the preschool age children, at his church, and wondered if he had such thoughts toward them when he had this same puppet on his hand. He AND the PUPPET were now CREEPY to me!

During my dancer years, all things with men and how they are or tend to be, taken as a whole, I became extremely glad that I was single and did not have a husband to wonder about, as far as his whereabouts, when he was not home, with me, or his faithfulness, to the vows, he took, which many men do not seem to be very concerned about staying true to after they say those. My extensive education that I got, about men, especially, during these years, of my life, taught me that, they are not worth it, and are also more trouble than they are worth. Especially, as far as what I gave, for what I got, with them. It was both, funny, and sad, to me, to be shopping in the women's department at a store in the mall, and see one of the club customers, standing 6' tall, or so, desperately trying to shrink themselves down, to try to hide, behind the 5'5" woman they were with, which was clearly their wife. The look on their face was one of silently begging me not to speak to them, or in any way indicate that I even knew them; especially not, where I knew them from! There was one, club customer, that I knew, from the very last nightclub that I worked in, who was a route salesman. He lived in Minnesota, but had to regularly drive down, to Omaha, as part of his travels for his job. He provided embalming supplies to funeral homes. I never did anything sexual with him. Not even a kiss, not an embrace, nothing. He seemed to be a really nice man, and he felt lonely on the road, with only his motel rooms, along his route, the funeral parlors he sold to, and eating alone at the end of each day. That is why he came in to the club, I worked in, both, to watch the exotic dancers, on stage, and because this bar also served food, not just drinks. Otherwise, he simply sat in his motel room, watching TV alone, at night. I don't recall him even drinking alcohol. I felt sorry for him, so I agreed to eat dinner with him out at a restaurant. After that, every time he regularly came to town, on his sales route, he called me and asked me to eat dinner with him. I did, but I am sure I shouldn't have as he was a married man. Eventually, after a few months of this, despite no romantic behaviors, between us, he called me and said that he should not be doing this, and he ended our dinners together. 

The next month, though, he called me up, and was extremely angry with me that I had heartily endorsed that decision of his, and had not made him feel more 'wanted' by begging him not to stop our dinners together! His ego was wounded, because it had not bothered me in the least, or phased me at all. He had apparently gotten emotionally invested in his relationship with me; not a good thing to do. His sales route was so mundane and drab, to him, that, by comparison, I had become the bright spot, in his trip. I had no real involvement with him, though, and, I had thought he had done the right thing, when he said a married man should not be having dinner, in restaurants, with another woman, especially not on a regular basis. Despite our never being romantically involved, with one another, I nevertheless felt very uncomfortable, when he would call his wife--- at their agreed upon time in the evening--- while I was sitting across from him at a restaurant table. It bothered me to hear him tell his wife that he was sitting in his motel room, ordering dinner in for himself or such, and it just wasn't true. I knew his wife likely believed her husband though; and I knew that, more than likely, my second husband had done me like that and more than once, in our relationship; a hunch I have just based on how emotionally distant we became, with one another, and how, he never talked, to me, about, where he went, or was, when he was out, which was fairly often. >sigh<  I knew these same men wouldn't like it, if this behavior was done in reverse, to them, either, which made me even madder, that they thought we deserved no better, than this, from them! Every time this club customer I was having dinner with hung up the phone, after telling his wife those lies, right in front of me, as a witness, to it, I could see that, for him, that was simply a 'courtesy call' he made to her, that he did not feel the least bit guilty about doing. I lost my temper, when this, married, club customer started actually telling me off, when he returned to town next, and tried to renew our get-togethers after he had stopped them, himself, which I had readily approved of and agreed to. It had become a bizarre 'jerking me around', now, due to his own conflicting emotions. I was not having it, and I told him to never contact me again, or I would tell his wife. He lived in a small town, and he had told me where. I actually would not have told her, and hurt her, but he did not know that; and I said that to break his attachment, to me, which needed to happen. We had only eaten dinners, together, in restaurants, but I knew that he had become too emotionally invested in me, for whatever his reasons, when he called me once from Minnesota, where he was home, with his wife and kids, for the weekend. He told me that he had deliberately got out of going to church, with his family, like he usually did, on Sunday mornings, so that, he could call me, 'just to hear my voice'. That made me feel sick, inside, and I regretted ever agreeing, to be his dinner companion, when he came to town on his sales route. He also created an email account just to contact me, he said. 

There was something else, about him, that angered me most of all. Not so much, directly, as it was not aimed at me. But, I was especially upset, with something that he did once, during one of our dinners, because of my own father, failing me, in the same way that this man was doing to his daughter. This man was tall, and thin, just like my father. He looked alot like him too. He actually could have even been my distant relative, I suppose, because, he even had the same last name! He was alot like my father, in many ways. Perhaps, my relationship with him was a way of my trying to vicariously have the attention and affirmation, from him, that my dad never gave me. On this one particular evening, as we were eating dinner at a restaurant, he dutifully made his obligatory phone call to his wife. They talked a bit, as I sat across the table from him feeling awkward about it all, even though we did not have a romantic, or a sexual, relationship with one another. When their conversation was finished, he looked annoyed, and, without any prompting, or prying, from me, about whatever was causing him to look so angry, he began to tell me, with disdain, dripping, from every word that he said, that his daughter, who was in her late teens, or early twenties, was in counseling, and had described, to the counselor, how this man, her father, had ruined her life due to emotionally crippling** her, because of his physical and emotional absence from her life. She felt an aloofness, indifference, and lack of nurturing from him, just as I had felt from my father, for my whole life. He looked across the table at me, with unbridled hostility, displayed in every feature of his face, and said, to me, "She just wants somebody to blame. I couldn't possibly have 'ruined' her life! I am almost never even around!" 

"It is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard--- but, it is so like her," he continued, as I held my temper, outwardly, because we were sitting in a crowded family restaurant, in the mall; but internally, I was livid, listening to this, clueless, father simply shrug off his own daughter's pain, which was caused by his own ignorance of, and impatience with, her needs. My life, had been impacted in this same, very negative way, because of my father's refusing to be affirming, and affectionate, toward me. That, drove me into a marriage, and, out of school, as a freshman, at age 18, because, as soon, as I left home--- where my emotional needs were not being met, at all, I was extremely vulnerable, to any male attention, and nurturance, which I was starving for. That showed up in my life almost as soon as I went away to college in the form of my half-first cousin, who lived in that city, and took advantage of me sexually, causing me to feel that I was forced to marry him then.*** My own father wasn't communicative or loving, toward me. When he would interact with me it was always very short and to the point, in which he almost always communicated his disappointment in, or disdain toward, me, adding insult, to that injury, to my soul, with unhelpful hostility, whenever a situation arose for which I needed his understanding, and support. So, I eloped, rather than explain to him, that I was failing my classes, while away at college, now, and falling apart, emotionally, because my cousin gave me that attention, and affection, that I was starving for, from a male figure in  my life; and that I thought, when he got me drunk, one night, that he had raped me. I flashback to that, here, because my relationship with my dad was my first information and education about men, and affected my relationships, and their outcomes---  especially, those I had with men---  throughout my life. My father would rarely be supportive, helpful, or understanding, toward me, and, the little, that he was, was not enough, to make a positive impact on my life, by counteracting, or undoing, the majority of the times that he failed me, as a father. He would never see, realize, or admit, how much of who I was or what I did happened because he had never really been a dad to me. Just like this club customer, denigrating his daughter, my father, would have reacted this very same way. In that moment, as I was listening to this man, absolutely refuse, to take any blame, or responsibility, for how his daughter was damaged, by his own omissions, and commissions, in his (lack of a healthy, nurturing) relationship, with her, I hated them both. Him, and my father. I saw them as two very ignorant, unseeing, males. I wasn't sure, if they, truly, didn't comprehend their hugely damaging, negative impact, on their daughters, or whether they were so upset, to be accused of it, because they knew, it was true, deep down, that they had failed their daughters; but they really didn't care, or, just didn't know what to do, so, rather than try, to deal with it, they simply shut down, and ignored the issue. Regardless, every little girl, that grew up to be a dancer, or  a prostitute, used to be some man's daughter, who either did, or didn't, affirm her, nurture her, or demonstrate to her that she is worthy of respect, and loving care, and especially from men.

I had met this man I was having dinner with at the last club that I ever danced at, before I was finally forced to retire, from the business. I had put off that, dreaded, day, as long as I possibly could, because I enjoyed doing this job so much! (The dancing, not the dealing with the men.)  I had always looked younger than my age, up until my sixties which I am midway through now and is when the stresses of life have begun to really age me. Rapidly. I was still on stage until the year 2000 when I was 44 years old. People guessed my age at around mid-to-late thirties. The trouble was, by your late thirties--- whether that was a dancer's actual age or the age she appeared to be--- you were considered to be too old to be in the dancing business. Most men wanted to feast their eyes on, and get their hands on, the nubile younger women who weren't yet jaded or cynical toward them, or, they hoped, toward their, inevitable, sexual advances on them. I was in my late twenties, when I started working as a dancer, so I had a late start, at it, as it was. I had seen several other girls grow too old, or ugly, to be able to remain a dancer in any viable way, if only because the ability to get hired, and the income from tips from the club customers, dried up, right along with their estrogen. It left me feeling very uneasy that, for the ones that stayed too long, in the business, the blatant disrespect they started to receive, from bosses who fired them, sometimes actually physically throwing them out of their nightclub, by literally grabbing them off the stage, and from club customers, who wouldn't even set eyes on them when they danced or sit with them so they could sell their drink quota for the shift, could be something that could happen to me, too, someday. It was both sad and scary, to me. I told myself, I would not allow myself to stay until I, too, was asked, or even worse, told, to leave. I realized that day was finally almost upon me, at Lipstix in Council Bluffs, Iowa, which was the last club that I worked at. I quit soon after this happened to me: I got along well with the other dancers and not one of them made me feel like I didn't still belong. I had earned their respect, my years in the business. One night, when I was up on stage, a young man, probably half my age, then, so, in his early twenties, held out his dollar, folded in half, lengthwise, like tips were usually presented to us dancers; and when I knelt down to have him slip it into the side of my costume bottom, he said, to me, observationally, with no disrespect, in his voice, at all, "I give you props, for being up there. You look good, for your age!"  I forced a smile, which was hard, for me, in that moment, as I simultaneously felt a wince, trying to take hold, instead. I felt self-doubt set in, I started dreading my dances, and I knew, that the fun had ended, for me, in this career. The reality, had finally hit me; that I could no longer do this job. THAT day, had COME.

Just, to give you some examples, of why, the guy, at Lipstix, who simply said, sincerely, to me, "You look good, for your age!" was letting me off easy, compared to how the customers speak to, treat, and talk about, some of the dancers in these nightclubs, I just Googled Reviews for a couple of these bars that I actually used to dance in 'back in the day'; decades ago, now. Here is a ONE STAR Review, of Lipstix, that I Googled, just now, to show you what customers have to say, about how the dancers look, through their eyes. It's a tough business. Especially, if you happen to be an aging dancer:

Rick S. Omaha, NE 1/3/2018
Slow paced depressing atmosphere, bikini bar. Variety of girls ranging from the sublime (a couple) to the ridiculous(most). A couple of them were a little scarey to look at. Typical midwest bikini bar with just average girls at best.  

Here is another, One Star, online, Review. This one is about The Twenties nightclub in Omaha, where I also used to work, decades ago. It was the best Go Go bar, in the area, when I worked there:

Dave R. Sioux Falls, SD 8/30/2016
Can't rate lower than a 1. That's yelp's shortcomings. This place is a nightmare. Coming from an out of town guest. Apparently Nebraska has a no, nudity law?? You can't strip below a bra and panties. I can see that shit on Disney. Also, if a girl stands next to to you (hangs with you) you HAVE to buy them drink. IF you want to have a private dance, it's a mandatory drink buy for them..... And 25 per girl per song.. Unless you have two people, then two girls (at 25 per girl/per song).. Then it cost 100 bucks. Cuz they switch in the middle of one song, so one song, two ppl, two girls.. Means they danced 1/2 a song per person. Apparently means they're worth double. Asked their manager and he said the math gets "hard". Maybe for his ignorant ass. Math is pretty easy. When I told him that, he said the math is different in this industry. I know people in "this industry" and they don't need to run scams to make money. Girls take off their clothes (not at your bar) that should be enough. If you can't make money off that without screwing ignorant people. Then, good for you. God bless you and eat shit.

Alot of the guys that came in these bars were not jerks. But, some of them were real assholes. One night I was sitting in the club waiting for the start of the show, when another dancer came and sat by me just to chat. I was feeling really disgusted by men, right about then, because of some of the crap, that they had been doing, which was causing me to lose all my faith in them as decent human beings who could think with their actual head and not their little head in their pants. Because, we girls worked together, in the same room, every night, we knew, who knew which club customers, and which guys were newcomers to the bar, or strangers to us. (In fact, we would even, go back, to the dressing rooms, and let a girl know, when one of her 'regulars' came in the club, so she could get out there, and make her money.) So, this other dancer that was talking with me, then, tried to tell me that it was not as bad, as what I was making it out to be, about men. I looked her in the eyes, and said to her, "I'll bet you, it is! You pick ANY guy in this room, as long as you know it isn't someone that you or I know in here, and just go sit near enough, to them, to be able to hear my conversation with them. Once you get in position, I will come over and say something to the guy. ANY guy, YOU PICK! And I just want you to listen to what he says. She said okay and walked over to the large bar and sat down near a guy sitting on a bar stool there, not speaking with him, at all. Then I walked over to him, never having set eyes on him before, in my life, and tapped him on the shoulder, as she watched from close by. As soon as he swiveled around to face me I stepped in between his manspread**** legs while noticing his wedding ring, on the hand holding his drink, and I said, to him, "Hey, baby! Do you wanna have sex, with me, tonight?" He sat straight up in his chair and, with a voice, filled, with his excitement, and enthusiasm, he replied, right away, to me (nothing else, said, between us), "Heck yeah!" I didn't say another word, to him, at all, but I looked at her then, and said, "That's why." Then I walked off, and sat back down, across the room, where I was before. Point made. 

That predictably.

It was disgusting, to me!

These guys NEVER asked if we could get PREGNANT by them, and even if they didn't CARE about US, or THEIR BABY, they also did not contemplate that we could require paternity tests, and take them to court, for child support. (Guys seem to universally hate wearing condoms so  I sidestepped alot of sexual 'offers' from the men while I was a dancer by saying that I couldn't have sex with them because I wasn't on birth control. I wasn't. I had my tubes tied, when I was 28 years old, so I had been surgically sterilized. But, I wasn't telling them that, because I didn't want ANYTHING like what THEY WERE OFFERING. Or, should I say, TRYING TO GET, from me.) These guys did not ever ASK, whether we had some sexually transmitted disease--- and some of those diseases are not curable! In fact, when HIV Aids was first on the scene it was a DEATH SENTENCE and sleeping with someone even ONE time could INFECT YOU WITH IT if they had it. These men were often MARRIED men, that came in there, too. They could have gone home and given their wives herpes, for life, or spread a deadly disease, like AIDS, to the woman at home in their bed, trusting this husband that they loved, from the faith that they had shared marriage VOWS with one another making a MUTUAL COMMITMENT; even a spiritual COVENANT. It is considered, a SACRED union, in churches, and synagogues; not, just a civil ceremony. In fact these men ALSO usually didn't ask US if we were married, or if they did ask, THEY DIDN'T CARE ABOUT THAT. If they could get SEX, from you, that is ALL, they CARED about. That disgusts me, to the core of my being, about males. I see them as being weak and needy, selfish, unfaithful, untrustworthy, not worth, letting into your life. And, as someone, who clearly does not see women as real people with feelings, rather than simply as sex objects, or they would be much less likely, I would think, to do this crap to their wives or with the dancers. The fact that they see this behavior as harmless, to all parties involved, on any level, or if they don't, they still do it, anyway, leaves me feeling extremely grateful, that I do not have a man in my life, in my bed, or in my body, anymore. Nor do I want one of these low-life creatures. It's a hard thing when you were raised, from the time you were a little girl, to believe you would end up with a principled hero, and 99.99% of the men, you've encountered, are anything BUT that. 

Some of the club customers would just be 'handsy', always trying to 'cop a feel' whenever and wherever they could on whichever dancer they happened to be in proximity to, which was bad enough. Occasionally some asshole would just flat out grab for our crotch. In my entire career, as a dancer, only one pulled that particular move on me, when I had walked up to his table, to introduce myself, since we had never met, and he quickly reached out, and grabbed me there, but on the outside of my costume bottom. I reactively slapped his face, for it, then immediately retreated to the dressing room, to scream, in my fury, and pound on the wall, in there, with my clenched fists, to try to get my rage out from his doing that to me, so I could go back out there and do my job, dancing on stage, and mingling, between sets, with club customers, so I could sell my drink quota for the shift. One trick that men sometimes used, with the dancers that sat with them, was to tell a dancer that their tip was down inside his pant's pocket and she had to reach in there to get it to see 'how big of a tip' it was. Many a dancer learned the hard way, no pun intended, not to fall for that trick, after discovering the guy had cut a hole in the bottom of his pants pocket, and he had no underwear on. He did this so that, when the dancer reached in, she got a handful of his hard-on. Even worse though, was something that happened to me on stage, one time. Two customers, came in, one night, and sat right up by the stage. I didn't know, what was coming, from them, at all, because, I had never seen, any guys, do this, to a dancer, before. One of them stood up, to tip me, during my dance, holding his dollar bill in his hand, and the other also stood, to tip me, simultaneously. As I knelt to allow them to place the two tips into the side of the waistband of my costume bottom, they both suddenly dived down, with their hands, into the interior of my costume. As I realized, with shock and horror, that they were ambushing me (also, no pun intended), I frantically tried to break free and stand back up but, these two men, BOTH had their hands DOWN INSIDE my pants! I felt the one, in front, of me, actually put his fingers on my vulva, and he was trying to shove it into my vaginal opening when I fell over onto the stage floor, while trying to pull myself free of them. Adding insult, they BOTH KEPT THEIR TIPS, which were apparently only offered to me as a ploy, to ambush me, so they could literally touch my, most private, body parts. They knew, I couldn't simultaneously fight off TWO MEN, trying to grab my genitals with their bare hands, at once, so at least one of them would get to sexually assault me, in that way; which these strangers did, to me, on stage.

By the way, AL, the bouncer, there, at the Backdoor Lounge, was a jerk, himself. So he wasn't alot of help. He had defected, from working for Mickey, to come to work for, his buddy, Dick, at the Backdoor. AL didn't even try, to hide his misogyny, toward the very dancers that customers came to see, which made him a nice living, as well. He was irritable and indifferent, and spent most of his time, just sitting on his ass, on a bar stool, by the door, so that he could at least ID people coming in, to be sure that they were of legal age, so the bar didn't get its liquor license pulled. Other than performing that duty, he mostly sat staring at the bar TV in the corner of the room almost all night, every night, rather than ensuring that the customers interacting with the dancers, continually, were not getting out of hand, which, was supposed to be the biggest part of, what he got paid, to do. He never showed any of the dancers any real courtesy. He had an attitude that suggested that he was really bitter toward women. So, when he got really old and had to retire, he had only one friend, in the entire bar. A dancer named Michelle, who took pity, and was kind to him, even after all his hatefulness to all of us, including her, through the years. (I was not so warm-hearted, to him, when he suddenly tried to be friendly, to me, at the end of his career. His negligence had resulted in horrible things, happening, to me, such as when the two strangers, literally, grabbed my female genitalia, unimpeded, sexually assaulting me, right up on the stage, because we did not have a BOUNCER that DID HIS JOB PROTECTING US! Having AL as a bouncer was like NOT HAVING a bouncer and the customers could easily see that, about him.) After AL retired, he got hit by a car crossing the street, as he was walking the few blocks, from his apartment in an old, run down, high-rise, to see Michelle--- his only friend in the world--- because he was so cold, and mean, to everyone else, all the long years that he had worked there, that nobody liked him. Except her. And, that was because of her, generous, heart, toward him. Not because he deserved such a caring friend, as she was, to him, the last year or so of his life. Despite her wild streak that often got her into trouble at work, in this way, at least, she was a better woman, than me, for how she dealt with AL; showing him grace and mercy. I could have, and, probably, should have. But, I didn't. He never really recovered, from that accident, and his health rapidly declined, after that. Ironically, he came to the club, to see her, because, after he retired and left the bar, he didn't want to sit home and watch TV all day. Ultimately, AL was found dead a few blocks down the street from the bar he had worked in for so many years, in the apartment he had lived alone in with his cat; curled up in a fetal position on the floor with rigor mortis already set in before anyone found him. He didn't really have any friends, except, to her credit, not his, big-hearted Michelle. He died all alone. She took his cat.

I did not include, in this post, the two men, whom I met as club customers in one of the Go Go bars that I worked in, that I married. They were both from the Backdoor Lounge. Apparently, it attracted abusers; as did I. Which, is one of the biggest reasons that I finally determined that I would stay single, for the rest of my life. And, I have, and quite happily so, for over 3 decades now. Life is not perfect or probably ever all we hoped it would be. But, I have a good life, now, and I have to say that, for me, the men, that I allowed, into my private life, to any extent, from simply friendship, to physical intimacy, to marital commitment, were such a disappointment to me, for a myriad of reasons, depending on the relationship that we had with each other, that I don't miss having that--- or, having to deal with that--- at all! It works better, FOR ME, if I keep men at arms length, from me. Physically AND emotionally. Men only seemed interested in me for whatever was in it FOR THEM. When it was over, I always felt like, they had, plugged into me, and then, simply sucked the life energy right out of me, for their own nurturance, and just stepped over my drained body and soul, to move on to their next ambition or their next victim as the case may be. I never got anything, in return for my trouble, after allowing them into my life, that was good or good FOR me. I GAVE OUT all I HAD, and BURNED OUT from DOING that. There is nothing else left in me, that I have, or want, to give, to them now, in those ways. The only relationships, that I welcome, or value, with men, now, are those rare ones, that are cherished friends, who are mutually supportive, and don't try to work their agenda on me like most men do constantly, if they are allowed anywhere near my life. Sex may be overrated by men, and underrated by women. But it definitely undercuts the chances of a real relationship developing between two people on the basis of a true friendship when it is always 'rearing its ugly head', and, crowding out, every other option, to interact, with one another, in a, mutually, beneficial way. Many men, do not seem interested, in developing a friendship, with a woman. We would all be better off if that were the very foundation of ANY type of relationship that we share together. Those close friends that I have, that are men, are almost always gay, though.

I also didn't include the men that I did prostitution with, in this post, although there were only a few of them, that I met in the Backdoor Lounge, while I was a dancer, in that club. There were specific, and somewhat odd, reasons, that this happened at all with me, so I need to devote a post entirely to that, independently of the type of description that I am providing now about the men that come into those places in general. How I got to that place, after dancing for so many years, in so many nightclubs, and, never doing that, despite the fact that, almost every man, I ever sat with, came on to me, and tried to get me to have sex with them, is a bit bizarre. A big part of why I finally decided to do that had alot to do with police pushing me in that direction. I know that's the opposite of how this usually goes with a woman who gets involved in that. But my life has NOT been very ordinary, in MANY ways! A friend of mine said to me, not long ago, that I have lived "a very interesting life". I chuckled at that, when she made the observation to me during a phone call, because that is all too true. Living through all these things that I have survived (so far, anyway!), has taken a real toll, on me, too. I, definitely, feel, 'a little the worse for wear', at this point, in my life. Some, of what has happened, certainly underscores the fact that, life can, truly, be stranger than fiction, at times. How I ended up being a prostitute, drives that point home, in a very definite way! How, could my knowing a police officer, ultimately lead to committing acts of prostitution (which, aside from one speeding ticket, I got, on the highway in Missouri, almost 40 years ago, is the only statutory crime that I have ever committed, in my life, unless jaywalking is included)? I was never arrested for or charged with prostitution, but, I came really close, to that happening, a couple of times. If someone had told me, when I was a child, some of these things, I would go through, during my life, I would not have believed them.

I am sure, that my assessment, of males, was skewed, by my years of interacting with them in the Go Go bar nightclub environment that I worked in; because the really solid, stand-up, guys would more than likely not even want to ever come into a place like that. It does seem, though, that there are far too few, of them, in this world, than these other kinds that I usually encounter in my life. But, they are out there. I have been blessed to have known a few of them, in my life. Not in my own personal, romantic, relationships, unfortunately. But, as acquaintances, friends, and some relatives. On the other hand, I have known a discouraging number of, lesser, types, of males, including among acquaintances, (former) friends, and, sadly, some relatives of mine. That has definitely done some serious damage to my view of males. I don't think it could have gone any other way, based on, all the negative data, poisoning my thoughts, and affecting my emotions, where men are concerned. I have always felt, a huge letdown, deep inside me, that there have not been more 'heroes' who are disciplined, willing to stay the course to rise above what these 'lesser mortals' choose, to wallow in, while on this earth. When I was growing up, I was not at all, the type of young lady that would have ever become an exotic dancer. I went to Sunday School. I didn't swear. I had no idea what the punch lines even meant when someone told the occasional dirty joke, around me. I was innocent, naive, sweet, decent, and I believed in the Disney's Happy Ending, for me. Eventually, though, my heart got broken so many times by these guys that were jerks and not heroes, that something in me quit holding out any hope, or holding up my standards. Including, for myself. I had wanted, and waited for, someone that was virtuous; that I simply saw no evidence of even existing on this planet, for me. By age 18,  I was damaged, sexually, by my half-first cousin. I felt broken, used, disrespected, and tainted. That affects a girl. Her self-esteem is shattered, as well as her hope, or belief, that any decent man would, ever, have her now. Even if, he actually, finally, appeared. I sublimated alot of, not only my repressed, and unexpressed, sexuality, as a dancer, but my hurt, my brokenness, my disappointment, and my rage, that I was placed onto a planet, that was too Fallen, too tainted, to seem capable of offering me what I had imagined, as the life, that I would live, while here. It becomes easy, to compromise, even when you never thought you would, when, what you had expected or hoped that life would be like simply seems to be either nonexistent, or impossible. Reasons to hold out, vanish like vapor, when the desire of your heart becomes a dead dream.

* I was around 54 years old in the following photos, which was close to a decade after I finally felt forced to retire from dancing, due to signs of aging, setting in, on my facial features, more than anywhere else on my body. I have gone through alot in my lifetime and it was starting to show. There is a wear and tear, that happens, due to stress, and grief, which, our faces often reflect. I was a dark-haired brunette (my natural hair color) when I was a dancer, but I dyed it blonde, later on, for about 7 years, or so, just to see whether 'Blondes have more fun', as the saying goes (and they don't, in my experience). I can't find any photos of me from my dancer days. I never had very many of them from that period of my life, anyway. However, I included these photos, with this post, because, even though, a decade had passed, since I danced on stage as Stevie, they show something, that you can still see, from my years of becoming and being Stevie, my, dancer, alter ego. It is said, that, "A picture is worth a thousand words." The first 2 photos show me being my Deborah self: Friendly, sincere, sweet, gentle, caring, naive; and broken in ways, because of leading with the heart in a world which will often victimize us for doing that. The latter 2 photos, are of me, during the very same time frame that the first 2 photos were taken, but are summoning my Stevie side, to the forefront, of me, just to let that feisty side out to outwardly show her strength. After so many years of living my life as Stevie she became a big part of me instead of just being my alter ego during my dancer job. I didn't want to lose that part of me, that I developed and drew from, because I needed and admired so many aspects of my Stevie side. You can clearly see a real difference, between these two sides of me, in the photos. My Stevie side is sure of herself, sexy, street smart; with a strong, take no shit, and 'take no prisoners', mentality, accompanied by the 'Don't even THINK about messing with me', dismissive, look. My Deborah side has the heart of gold, that people break. 

These photos clearly reveal the gist of what I have been describing, in my posts, as being the differences, between, who I had always been, as Deborah, and, what I developed into, as my dancer alter ego, Stevie. People sometimes take Deborah's gentle, caring, way as weakness, never comprehending how much strength it truly takes, especially after I could have so easily grown cold and cruel to others, after all the awful ways that others have treated me, in my life, starting, with my own family, while I was growing up. If I allow it, my Stevie side is wonderfully quick to step in, even now, and tell people what they can do with their disrespect toward me! I am so glad that Stevie will always be a big part of me, now. God knows, Deborah has needed a strong, protective, advocate, to stand up for me, for my entire life. Except for Dick McGinnis, my boss at the Backdoor Lounge, I have never really had anyone do that for me very often, in my life. So, it means alot, to me, when they do. Except for those, rare, individuals, which have done that, on my behalf, my Stevie self became the one who always does it for me! There's a lesson, in that, for all of us, I think: We should cultivate that part of ourselves which will take a protective stand, speaking up for our own best interests and not allowing people to disrespect us, disregard us, or destroy us! [Note: I did not actually have dark facial hair, although it looks as though I did, in the 2 Stevie-side-of-me photos. I took all these pictures of myself, using an old flip phone style cell phone; all of them at about the same time in my life. But the darkness, of that one room, caused my face to appear like that, though you can see, from the Deborah-side-of-me photos (the first 2 photos of the 4) that I'm actually not a Bearded Lady! I think my makeup foundation color, and the dark shadows in that room, were causing that appearance.]

** emotional cripple - A person who has been rendered indecisive, alienated, uncaring, confused, or helpless in conjunction with experiencing debilitating emotions, such as worry, fear, panic, despair, etc. 

*** For more background on this, reference my previous blog posts: 

My Father: Almost Always In The Home But Almost Always Absent From My Life https://ascentthroughthedarknightofthesoul.blogspot.com/2019/06/my-father-almost-always-in-home-but.html, 

Nothing Happens In A Vacuum: Why I Dropped Out Of College And Got Married https://ascentthroughthedarknightofthesoul.blogspot.com/2019/05/nothing-happens-in-vacuum-why-i-dropped_29.html, 

My First Marriage: I Grew To Like Him As My Cousin But Not Really As My Husband https://ascentthroughthedarknightofthesoul.blogspot.com/2019/06/my-first-marriage-i-grew-to-like-him-as.html.] 

**** manspread - the act or practice, by a man, of sitting with their legs spread wide apart (as in a public seating area).