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).

My First Marriage: I Grew To Like Him As My Cousin But Not Really As My Husband

It's hard to start off a marriage, and even more so to maintain it, under far less than ideal circumstances, which was how it was with my first husband, Jim, my half-first cousin on my mother's side. While it ultimately wasn't due to his actually raping me, only because, as it tragically turned out, I would end up losing my virginity to him AFTER we were married [reference my Blog post https://ascentthroughthedarknightofthesoul.blogspot.com/2019/05/nothing-happens-in-vacuum-why-i-dropped_29.html for more background on this relationship], it certainly came about as a result of his sexual assault on me. That devastating violation of me, by him, had caused me to conclude that I had no choice but to marry him, since I was left believing I was now significantly Damaged Goods. 

It had seemed, at the time, that he had taken my virginity from me, on that one night when he opportunistically took advantage of me when I was passed out drunk, unable to have any say in the matter. He had basically given me alcohol to drink for the first time in my life. I wasn't a teenager that had ever been in a partying clique, at all, or exposed to that directly in the home I grew up in. Back then, my father apparently drank some times, rarely, but no liquor was ever kept in our home as I was growing up there. In so many ways I was still an innocent, at age 18, when all of this happened to me. I had never before experienced the effects of alcohol in my body, to have any idea what it would do to me, but Jim knew. He absolutely knew what he was doing to me. 

I had ended all interactions with him, previously, which he well knew, after he had quite suddenly stolen a romantic kiss from me, as I thought that was improper between us, as cousins, and for me I didn't see him in that way, in our relationship together. So, this was his second chance to be in my life, but apparently he had only wanted to be with me for romantic reasons, all along. As a female, only weighing somewhere around 100 pounds at the time, what he gave me to drink would hit me so fast and so hard that I was rendered completely unconscious for most of that night. The blacking out, going unconscious, throwing up, being queasy and hungover, were all aspects of what resulted from this first real exposure to alcohol, for me, but they were not the primary problem I was left with after that. 

The blood stains on my panties, when it wasn't my period, and Jim's admitting to me that he had undressed me, put me into his bed, and penetrated me, while I lay there completely unconscious, was the main issue with what had happened to me that night at his apartment. I felt like my 'nice girl' status was gone forever because of what Jim had done to me, something which to my mind was required for me to be able to bargain for a better future for myself with someone I might really love, later on. Across cultures throughout the world, and in biblical Christianity, which was an important part of my life, it was of utmost importance that a young woman gave herself as a chaste virgin to her husband. This moral expectation can't be interpreted through the current, pervasive, social lens and still have this degree of significance be deeply understood. It was quite simply the bottom line of what a bride was expected to bring to the marital union; no pun intended.

Because Jim had so readily and frequently taken me out to eat at restaurants, and to movies, when I was enrolled in college, he seemed to me to be financially stable. He had told me that after being in the Navy, he had become a police officer for the city, for awhile, but when I was there at school I can only recall him doing some security jobs then. Although he drove an older car, he dressed neatly, kept himself clean, and the apartment that he and his roommate Harvey shared as bachelors was an attractive place with amenities. At age 27, he had also seemed, through my 18-year-old eyes, to already be old enough to become settled, in his life, on some kind of career path. So, in my naivete, I saw no Red Flags as far as his ability to make a living, and provide for me. 

Ever since I was a little girl, shaped by things in my childhood, both good and bad, I had longed to be a homemaker, in a Christian home. It was, and would always be, the desire of my heart! There were various factors contributing to this, including my growing up watching the Andy Griffith show, about Mayberry, seeing all the women cooking and baking and being the heart of their homes. In fact, almost everything on TV modeling the family unit within its plot line showed the wife being a homemaker, so for me it was even more social conditioning, like the impact that being raised on the Disney movies of that era had on me. A woman in this role was a sign of the times in which I grew up. More women, overall, were still homemakers than not, then, and in many social circles it was still expected and encouraged. At church, the women were the heart of that, too, loading the long tables with their pleasing and palatable home cooked contributions to the church picnics. 

My grandmother worked as a seamstress, but out of her home, and by the time I was in high school I was already sewing many of the outfits that I wore, enjoying that ability. My Aunt Gladys, who was my most favorite role model of what a good and godly woman should be, and several other aunts as well, were homemakers. As a little girl, I had always been most drawn to the toys having to do with household tasks, cooking and baking, home decor, and so forth. And finally, my being expected to do household chores, from a young age, growing up, caused me to develop a large degree of my personal identity around those skills and the emotions and self-esteem which I associated with them. 

Even though the Women's Lib movement was just coming into being in the late 1960s, as I was growing up, I felt it shouldn't only support women inclined toward the opportunity for careers outside the home, if they wanted that, but it should also give respect and affirmation to those women who still wanted to work in the home, when that resonated with who they were, and because they truly enjoyed that, as I did. While that wasn't the case, with the Movement, I looked back over all of human history and saw that women, bringing their heart to the home, made significant social contributions that left a lasting impact on the quality of life for their own families and for their communities. 

Additionally, I hadn't come to the marriage with Jim with any financial debt of my own; and few needs. It never occurred to me that he could and would struggle so constantly to get, have, and keep employment, usually taking jobs that were considered General Labor. We lived in a very modest manner, and I didn't ask for a lot from him. Still, as he demonstrated that he would only be able to do so little, I was seeing that meeting my most basic needs simply seemed to be too much for him. There was no lack of the type of jobs which he would be hired for, only a lacking in Jim being able to keep one for very long. If I worked outside the home, it would mean to me that my identity was again compromised, due to my relationship with him, in another negatively impactful way, so I chose not to, for most of our marriage. When I did finally do so, for a while, in Greensboro, it was a disaster for me, which would end up costing me more, by far, than it would ever provide.

After my finally getting a job, as a waitress at a diner, from which I walked home after work because Jim had the only car that we had, with him, I accepted the offer for a ride home one afternoon from a regular customer whom I waited on every day. He never spoke much, while he would sit there in the diner eating his lunches, but I felt that I knew him because he was always in there, and his offer seemed genuinely helpful. He had pulled up in the diner parking lot just as I had left after my shift and was now starting my lengthy walk home, leaning out the window of his pickup truck and saying he would be glad to give me a ride. I climbed in to the truck, thanking him. As I gave him the directions, where to turn right, and then left, headed toward the apartment Jim and I lived in at the time, nothing at all seemed in any way out of the ordinary. I appreciated not having to walk home, again, after being on my feet at work for my shift. 

Everything was fine, all the way up until I pointed out my actual apartment, finally, just ahead, and was telling him he could drop me off right there at the stop sign, when he suddenly sped up and ran it, not stopping then or at all, until he had driven me out into some weeds, somewhere off road, parking his truck. He jumped out of his driver side door, pulling his pants down, and exposing himself. Then, he started dragging me toward him and yanking my pants off of me, as I kept trying to pull myself back away from him by grabbing onto the steering wheel, which kept turning and causing me to lose any leverage I had hoped to gain from holding onto that. As he pulled me to the edge of the bench seat in his pickup, gravity kicked in also to pull me down toward him. I noticed the gun rack in his back window, then, and wondered if he were also going to kill me and leave my body there in the weeds, after he raped me. 

All he said to me, during this, was, "I just want to know if you can love!" Can you imagine that? A man saying that to a woman he has now kidnapped and is raping! After I couldn't get any more leverage by holding the steering wheel to try to pull myself away from him, I kept trying to at least cover my vagina with my hand, to keep him from getting his penis inside of me. He still managed to, though, and quickly he was done with his dirty deed against me. Immediately afterward, almost as a reflex, I again put my hand over the opening to my vagina, but this time it got some of his semen on it. Instinctively, I pulled my pants back on me, while simultaneously wondering if I were going to die now, too. Instead, he pulled his own pants back up, got back into his pickup truck, and drove me well past my apartment, again, after going back toward it, but this time he pulled up in the parking lot of a large shopping center, and simply told me in a very matter-of-fact voice to get out. 

I scrambled out of the passenger side door, and looking at me he simply said, "Don't tell anyone", and he drove off, leaving me to walk home, from there. As I headed home, grossed out and extremely upset, I realized that he had wanted to first see exactly where I lived, as kind of a threatening aspect of his crime, so that I knew that he now knew where I lived. So, I never told the police. I did wonder if he would ever show up at my apartment, or break in, to rape me again. It was all so terrifying to me! Jim was still at work when I got home, so I called my mother after I came in the door, and had locked it behind me. I was sobbing, and I told her I had just been raped! She responded that she couldn't talk because she had something in the oven that she didn't want to burn, and she hung up. When Jim got home, I told him, but by then I was so hysterical that I don't even recall much more about that but me crying as I described what had happened to me. 

One day, awhile later, Jim and I were eating out somewhere, and I suddenly saw that man, who had raped me, sitting in there as a customer! Shaking, I pointed him out to Jim, but, he never did anything. There is one more thing about my working at the diner: On top of my getting raped, by the customer from there, the man, that was the owner, never paid me, for my work, taking the employee payroll and skipping out with that money, never to be seen or heard from, again.

That rape so traumatized me that it left me with sexual dysfunction. Jim and I were never able to have sex again during the rest of our marriage, after that happened. Any time that I even tried to, with him, I would immediately have to sit up, audibly gagging and retching, as my stomach began convulsing in waves and I would very nearly vomit, right then and there. We had already been having problems in the bedroom, right from the start, before this had even happened to me. In fact, our sex life was a big disappointment for me, all the way around. He didn't last long at all, during intercourse, and he wasn't skilled at knowing how to make it feel like something that I would look forward to, or get enthusiastic about doing with him. I had never enjoyed sex with him. 

It was distressing to me, in itself, even before, and in addition to, my being raped by the diner customer. I thought that was because something was wrong with me, since women usually get the blame for any problems in the bedroom, Jim clearly blamed me for it, and I had no sexual experience prior to my marriage to him to know that he was actually just really bad in bed. All I knew for sure, at the time, was that it was always over with fast, it didn't feel good, and I didn't enjoy it. 

I wouldn't realize until later on, when I would finally have really great sex with someone, joyfully discovering that there was nothing wrong with my sexual responsiveness at all, that Jim was deficient, not proficient, in the sack. That new man, who happened to also be named Jim, became like my own personal sex therapist, consciously working with me, on it, after I told him that I had been raped, until he was able to bring me out of the frigidity, to the other end of the spectrum, with us becoming sexually insatiable together. But, that would happen a few years later, in my life, after I enlisted in the Air Force, and is another story for another time, here.

Jim also snored. LOUDLY. Every night! All night! If you want to become supremely annoying to someone, try sleep depriving them, continually, so they are NEVER really rested! Some nights, when he was especially loud, I would just lay there staring at him, soundly sleeping away, while I was unable to sleep at all, from it. Feeling tired, irritable, and resentful, I would often shove him over onto his side, to quiet him (with him never waking up, even from that), so I could get some rest! Of course, even after I got to sleep, once he would roll back over, during the night, he would wake me, as his snoring started up, again. 

I swore to myself, then and there, that I would NEVER marry, or even sleep with, another man in my entire life that snored (and I didn't)! For me, that alone became a bad enough issue to become a deal breaker in any intimate relationship. A person HAS to have some SLEEP in order to have the energy, and the right frame of mind, to accomplish what they need to, on any given day. Sleep is a necessity! Having a man in my life, and in my bed, is not. Countries that are at WAR with one another even use Sleep Deprivation to wear out and break down their prisoners. >sigh!< 

While I did try to make the best of a bad situation, in my marriage with Jim, it just wasn't going to be nearly enough of an attitude adjustment, on my part, to ever get our relationship to a good place. If everything else in our relationship had been EXCELLENT, which NONE of it was anywhere NEAR, Jim's loud, nightly, snoring was enough to cause me to really start to HATE him, after awhile, because it was exhausting me! There wasn't anywhere, in the places that we lived, that I couldn't hear it. There was also nothing I tried that was enough to block it out, so that I could finally have some peace and quiet at night. 

So, bed was in NO way a pleasant place for us to be, together. It's just as well, that we weren't meshing, or merging, much in bed. One of the reasons that genetically close marital relationships, like ours was, are frowned upon, and even, legally, forbidden, in places, due to certain degrees of kinship, is out of concern for any offspring resulting from such inbreeding. Jim never said if that concerned him, but I also made sure that I was not able to get pregnant during this marriage. 

Not just for that reason, but because I continually daydreamed about leaving him, even as early on as when we were in Fresno, only I didn't know how I could accomplish that without my having to go back into some close proximity with my own childhood family, whom I was not at all comfortable with. Especially if you are a man reading this, and it jumps out at you that I sound self-serving, to put things the way that I have here, in my honest description of what was going on in this marriage, and how I truly felt about it, I will point out that neither Jim nor I were without blame in the situation that we found ourselves in. I will also remind you of the fact that this entire thing started solely because of Jim's extremely self-serving thoughts and behaviors, toward me, which left me with devastating consequences to deal with in my life! I will not try to 'paint a pretty picture' here, or in any of my Blog posts. I am simply being as honest and transparent as I can about the events of my life. IT IS WHAT IT IS.

For Jim to have wanted to possess me so badly, and to finally have me as his wife, it was remarkable how little effort he made to make any part of that be better for us. I am sure that he was hearing some negative feedback, about us; likely through his talks with his mother, who was probably voicing to him the opinions of our other relatives about this particular family scandal of us marrying one another. He never seemed to be at all strong in his convictions that we should even be married at all, and I never was, either, which certainly didn't help matters any.

While we lived in Fresno, which he had chosen simply because his best buddy from his, Navy, service days lived there, Jim only took me to visit him and his wife a couple of times. From things his friend said to me during those visits, which were overtly hostile toward me, it was clear that Jim was communicating with him much more frequently than both our visits there together, and apparently in a way that made me the villain in this story. This further alienated any possible affections I might have had, or been able to develop, toward Jim, because it furthered my feeling of disunity with him. 

When we eventually moved back to Greensboro, North Carolina, his home town, he would visit his family but never took me with him, except for once, when I pointed out to him that I was married to him now, after all. Even that one time, he pulled his car up in front of his mother's (my aunt's) house and parked, and never went in. She came outside to speak with us. She was always a pleasant acting woman. I never, ever, saw her be mean, cold, or rude in any way, like my own mother would get. When she came outside to meet us, at the curb in Jim's car, apparently her cat got out of the house, with her, and ran into the street, getting hit by a car, and killed, right in front of us! I watched, in horror, as this woman walked into the street, to pull the dead cat out of the road, and then, seeing that I looked so upset, by that, and her being so compassionate, she reached through the open car window to touch me to comfort me, with the same hand she had just dragged the cat by. That also horrified me, and needless to say, my one visit wasn't a good memory at all. 

I never understood the mystery of my never being allowed into her house. It was Jim that kept me out of there, for whatever reason. It made me very curious, and a little bit scared, about what actually went on inside that house causing it to be Off Limits like that! I never did know. A couple of times, Jim's siblings, my cousins, came to the door of our apartment, to speak with him, but they would never come in, and they never spoke to me. Because this particular group of people, within our family tree, had always been socially isolated, including during the large family reunions, I attended, growing up, I didn't think that all of this unusual behavior of theirs was about me, specifically. 

It did become clear to me, though, that Jim had complained to his mother about me, as well, which, again, does not breed any feeling of closeness or intimacy with one's spouse when that is done. While his doing that was unfair, toward me, partly because, he was never speaking directly, with me, about any of the things we needed to address, with one another, truthfully, that wouldn't have helped us, anyway. With all that had and was going wrong, between us, our marriage never stood one chance in hell of making it.

Adding to the issue was the fact that all of his relatives were also all of my relatives, so that anything that was leaked, about either one, or both, of us, to our family tree, from either one, or both, of us, would likely make the rounds of being talked about, by everyone, of, familial, significance, in both our lives; causing these people, most of whom cared about us both, to then possibly feel the need to start taking sides, about us. 

This in fact happened, with one aunt and uncle that we stayed with, briefly, while we were married. This uncle had always been especially affirming, and supportive, of me, as I was growing up, which had always been deeply appreciated by me, especially, since, my father, had not been. Now, he was scolding me, and even snapping at me, as if I were to blame, for Jim's problems, rather than the other way around; if, in fact, he, even should have (as the uncle, of both, of us) assigned blame, between Jim and I. I cried, over that incident, one which also further alienated me from Jim, since it happened in front of him and he did nothing to set it straight, causing me to feel that something he had actually told them might have prompted this, sudden, and complete, change, toward me. 

It was all rather surreal to me. This marriage between my cousin and I. While I was certainly part of the problem, of Jim and I being married, to one another (which I am sure, was very awkward, for everyone, to say the least), I did try very hard, never, to tell the relatives, about our marital problems, because I didn't want to put any of them in this position of, feeling, uncomfortably, caught in the middle, of that, or of having to take sides, in some way, regarding, the two of us. So, I never even told any of them what had caused Jim and I to get married, in the first place. Not one single relative. Not even to defend myself, which most people, in my position, would have certainly felt, they had a right, to do, especially when being chastised for it. 

Even when that uncle, whom I had always been so close to, before this, clearly took a side, which was Jim's, deciding I was the one at fault, for the situation, and being hostile, toward me, because of that, without knowing the facts, I never spoke up to defend myself. It would have put Jim in a very bad light, with our relatives, who would never have approved of what he had done, toward me; some of whom, had helped raise him, when he was small, and his, then single, mother, was trying to get on her feet. I felt that, I couldn't defend myself, when doing so would have hurt everyone. It was very hard on me, though. 

I comforted myself by knowing that God, Who is my one, true Judge, knew, the truth, and that, if anyone decided to turn on me, in that way my uncle did, as simply a biased show of loyalty, toward Jim, which had nothing to do with the facts, that it was, on them, not on me, for their doing so. 

Years later, after Jim and I were divorced, I was about to enter an aunt's house, for one of the family reunions, when Aunt Gladys ran outside, to meet me, just as I arrived, at the house, and, taking me aside, warned me, in a loving way, that Jim was inside, with his new, second, wife. Aunt Gladys was being so sweet, about it, and showing such concern, for me, that, I almost told her, the facts, about how Jim and I even ended up together, at all, to ease her mind, about me. But, I didn't. Not even, with her; because she was also Jim's Aunt Gladys! With such concern, for me, showing on her face, as she 'prepared' me for what she sincerely thought would be a difficult situation, for me, to see inside the house, I truly fought back laughter, while simply reassuring her, that I was absolutely fine, with it; never telling her that, in full disclosure, I couldn't care less! In fact, I felt sorry for the second wife, knowing Jim, as I did, and, how little, he was capable of, as a husband. I bet to myself they wouldn't last, and, I heard, at some point, that she left him, leaving their child, with him, too, I believe, since I had heard they had a son together. Maybe more. I truly didn't keep track. I was well rid of Jim.

Jim had some, inner conflicts, which, outwardly, displayed themselves, in sometimes, interesting, and other times, irritating, ways. He once went to see a pastor, about our marriage problems. Knowing our situation, full well, as cousins, and how our relationship had come about, in the first place, I doubt that he was honest, enough, with the minister, in any way, that would shed real light, on why, things weren't going well, between the two of us. He didn't even tell me about it, until afterward, and, he didn't ever go back, or take me, as, the other person, in this marriage, to seek counsel together. We never attended even one single church service, anywhere, the entire time we were together! 

The day he came home, and told me, he had been to see this pastor, I asked him, what advice, if any, he had been given. Jim told me that, the pastor had told him, that he needed to come home, and bed me well, and that would take care of any, and all, other problems, in our relationship. I was amused, by this, for several reasons, but I simply replied, that, he, should tell the pastor, if he ever saw him, again, that, there was no way, that would ever, be able, to work, for us. (I stopped short, of saying "because my husband is so bad in bed", as I not only never said that, to Jim, but I also didn't fully realize, how true, that was, until after our divorce, and I had moved on, sexually, to see, there was a big difference, between what he did, between the sheets, and what, a different man, did there.) 

Being, a virgin, coming into this, with Jim, and because he seemed to blame me, for it, I had no idea what great sex was, or even good sex, until after our marriage was over, and someone, with some talent, taught me the difference. Jim seemed to be incapable, of seeing his responsibility, regarding any given 'cause and effect' within our relationship. Going all the way back, to Adam, men have complained, even to God, Himself, that, all the fault, really lies, at the feet of, "This woman, that Thou gavest me." (Genesis 3:12)

Another, odd way, Jim had, of handling things, apparently in order be able to live with himself, was that he cursed, all the time, within, our relationship, at least; once we were married. Yet, he never said a curse word! He constantly peppered his sentences, to me, with "Down" this, and "Down" that, as some acceptable (to himself) form, of the word, "Damn". He never seemed able, to acknowledge, to himself, especially, that he was hurt, frustrated, and angry. 

One day, knowing this wasn't good for him, and tired, of the silliness, and the hypocrisy, of him, saying, "Down" for "Damn", all the time, I took the sentence, he had just said, and asked him, "So, Jim, is the car on the road, or is it going DOWN? You, JUST SAID "the DOWN car", so how is it doing that? Going DOWN? If you MEAN, the DAMN car, which YOU DO, then why don't you JUST SAY the DAMN CAR; because you, me, AND GOD all KNOW that you MEAN the DAMN car, NOT the DOWN car!" 

Especially, once he became embittered, by our relationship never fulfilling any of his fantasies, about it, after he had forced the issue in the first place, Jim manifested more, and more, anger, in his personality; only, he couldn't, or wouldn't, own up, to that. Some internal message, that he told himself, which he never articulated, to me, caused him to think that, he couldn't feel, he was the 'nice' guy, he considered himself, to be, and still, either, swear, or admit that he was, really, pissed off, by how, his life, was turning out. 

As a result of that, he was always, outwardly, pleasant, as a person, but he stuffed so much anger, deep down, within himself, during his lifetime, that he died one month before his 63rd birthday. My youngest sister had emailed me, about it, at the time, saying that he had passed away, suddenly, of a massive heart attack. I replied, back, to her, that, while, I had known him, he had, always, been an angry person. Because of his, always, behaving, so pleasantly, that may have surprised her; or, she may have, doubted, what I was telling her, about him, having never seen that side, of him, herself. 

But, I knew, that all the anger, within himself, that he always kept stuffing, in there, had to, eventually, blow, in some way, or other. Especially, after, I had heard, that his second wife, had left him, as well. I knew, that Jim, over time, had become a very angry man, even though, he hid that, from others. That will manifest, itself, in some way, at some point, even, and especially, if it is not dealt with. Anger, and other intense emotions, HAVE TO have AN OUTLET! Otherwise, those, strong emotions, will implode, in a person, destroying their health, and possibly, like with Jim, ending their life. Or, they will explode, very possibly in some violent, destructive, or aggressive, way, targeted toward another being, such as a person, or an animal; or, even some, inanimate, object, that may, or may not, have been part of, the cause, of those intense emotions.

While, Jim made sure, that he thought, of himself, as a nice guy, and that others thought that of him, as well, I had gotten to know, more of, who he really was, underneath the façade, of that. He never yelled, or ever raised his hand to me. There was no domestic abuse, in our marriage; no threats, no violence. But, I do think, you have to question, whether a 'nice' guy, does things, to a, teenage, girl, to, emotionally, manipulate, and, physically, take advantage, of her, like those things, he did, to me, when I was a college freshman. Including, because of, my being married, to Jim, though, I saw, a side of him, that, perhaps, others--- especially, others, in our mutual, extended, family tree--- didn't ever see, or know was there. Just like it had been, between, my father, and I, as I grew up, being related, to someone, even, in a close way, doesn't mean, that, you, really, even know, that person. Who they, really, are.

Jim and I lived in a, tiny, rented, cottage, that was, actually, one side, of a duplex, with our landlady on the larger side, when we were in Norfolk. Right by the water, near the large Naval Air Station, there. One day, I had my head, leaned forward, over the bathroom sink, brushing my teeth, while Jim was sitting, close by, in the other room, waiting for me, to finish, getting ready, for us, to go somewhere. I started hearing a loud noise, and, I asked Jim, what it was. He told me that it was "nothing." I kept on, hearing it, though. It sounded like someone fighting. It seemed violent, too, based on the sounds I heard. 

So, I asked Jim, about it, again, asking him, to look, and see, what was going on, with that, and he, again, said, that, it wasn't anything. That didn't make sense, to me, based on, what I was hearing. Finally, I heard a, woman's, pained, scream, and, I threw my toothbrush down, right into the sink, and ran outside, where we lived, to see, what on Earth, was going on! 

Directly across the street, from where we stayed, in full view, of Jim, at our place, was a large apartment building, with, almost every window, full of faces, now, watching, what was happening, right outside on the sidewalk. A young man, was, literally, kicking this woman, down the sidewalk, as she screamed, and cried, for help! Jim, was working as Shore Patrol, for the Navy, in Norfolk, and had, formerly, been both, a police officer, and, a security guard. But, he had done nothing; and, worse still, to me, he had TOLD ME, that it was "nothing." 

I knew, now, that, he knew, exactly, what was happening, and he let it continue, doing, nothing, to stop it, or, to, at least, summon the police. That disgusted me. I ran over there, myself, and got, in between, the man, and woman, as he stood, over her, where she was down on the ground; ready, to kick her, hard, in her body, yet again. For, a very brief moment, it didn't seem, he would stop, even though I was now intervening, because what he was doing was, clearly, so wrong. But he did. Maybe, because a woman, out of all the people, watching that, had come to stop it. Even if he had hurt me, too, which he didn't, I still believe that, someone, needed, to put a stop, to that! Nobody else, had stepped up, or stepped in, in any way; not even my husband. 

The police, never came, because, nobody called them! I was, repulsed, by this whole thing! I was, already, so disillusioned, with Jim, that his, allowing, this, to go on, for at least several minutes, and then, telling me, that, it was "nothing", when I kept asking him what I was hearing, that didn't sound right, to me, didn't lower, my opinion of him, much more, than it, already, had become. I asked him, afterward, what kind, of man, would, beat up, his own woman, like that, especially, out on, the public sidewalk, with all those onlookers. He, told me, that this, was common behavior, when sailors finally came back, to their home port, after months long deployments at sea; if, they knew, or simply thought, that their woman had not been faithful, to them, while they were away. 

However, he admitted to me, that, many, of these men, were not faithful, to these women, when they had Shore Leave, at their Ports Of Call, during their cruise. He was describing this, to me, as being an acceptable double standard. I, wasn't, accepting, of it! He didn't seem disturbed, at all, by any of this, that he was describing, to me, causing me to feel that, his deepest, or truest, values, did not match, those, of a 'nice' man. I guess, I was still naïve, at that age. Or, maybe, idealistic. I, too, would find myself, compromising, my own values, and, looking the other way, about things, myself, in later years.

There finally came a point, that, neither one, of our hearts, was in, making our marriage succeed, anymore; for any reason. I think, we had always been extremely ambivalent, about our situation, up until then, as it was, and, for many reasons. Not the least of which, was, our each, having, close ties, to members of our, mutual, family tree, and, our being aware, of their wariness, with this relationship, that we were in, together. 

Jim and I had even tried a marital separation, at one point. Only then, I was right back, in the same situation, I had grown up in (before I eloped, with him), with my family, which I simply couldn't bear! I. Hated. Even. Being. In. That. House. Or with them. At all. Ever. It was, almost always, acutely uncomfortable, for me! 

I tried going back to school, to at least escape them, again, that way, but that still linked me to them, which drove me back to Jim, again, even though that was only marginally happier, for me, by that point. I have no idea, why Jim agreed, to get back together; but, he didn't hesitate. He knew, how much I hated, being with my family. I do think that, of the two, of us, he had really loved me, and deeply. Until he finally couldn't, anymore, because, not being loved back, in the way, that he had wanted, me, to, had left him, so resentful, toward me. While I didn't cruelly flaunt it, in his face, he, undoubtedly, always knew, from one thing, or another, with us, that, I was not, ever, in love, with him, romantically. I had never, really, gotten past, seeing him, as, my cousin. His bitterness, over the situation, eventually, eroded, his love; but it took him awhile.

Near the end, when we had left a theater after seeing a romantic movie, and were sitting in the parking lot in the car, he said something unlike anything he had ever said to me, before, or after, which was shocking, in that way, though his words did not surprise me. He said, to me, "I've felt such a hatred for you!" A man, in love, experiencing, that love, die, a slow death, because, it wasn't nurtured, by being reciprocated, would, come to feel, that way. If only, from, the disappointment, of that. I didn't have the heart, to say, to this man, who, finally, told me, to my face, what was going on, inside him, instead of, only running to complain, to his friends and family members, during our years together, that, I had, plenty, of reasons, to feel, that way, toward him, as well. I just, sat there, looking at him, receiving, his hatred, toward me. Understanding it, from his perspective. Although, it was equally, clear, to me, that he had, never managed, to see our relationship, from mine! I didn't need to tell him, that I harbored hatred, toward him, as well. Somewhere, inside him, I think he, must have, known that, even, from the night, that he virtually raped me. People, normally, don't, or can't, build love, on, such a start, as that. I was 18, when, he did that, to me. Just a teenage girl. He was 27.

We had lived in, Fresno, California, Greensboro, North Carolina, and Norfolk, Virginia, during our marriage; with Jim, always, chasing some, ultimately, temporary, job, and us, seeking a life, that, we would never find, together. While Jim, who had remained, in the Navy, as a Reservist, was now back on active duty, in Norfolk, temporarily, we began to, finally, share the same goal, for our relationship. But, that was: to help me get situated, and stabilized on my own, so that, we could finally get our divorce, from one another. 

So, Norfolk, Virginia, was the last place, Jim and I, lived, while we were married. This was also the first time he had a steady job, since he had become involved in my life, when I was at college. However, it was a, temporary, active duty assignment, as Shore Patrol, for the Navy, and it would be ending, as well. 

I would be gone, before that happened, though, to move into a brand new, very small, studio apartment, in Hickory, North Carolina. I was finally going out on my own, for the first time in my life. I wasn't sure how I would do, but, I still never doubted, that I would, absolutely, be better, on my own, than I had ever been, with, either, my family, or, with Jim. 

I was now, 22 years old; and because of what he had done, in my life, and, to my life, I wasn't holding, a college diploma, in my hands, like I should have been, and, that, my friends were. I was holding, my (very first) divorce decree, instead.

While, I did end up, back, in Hickory, North Carolina, where, my family of origin, was, I didn't have to live under their roof, any more; where I had, almost always, felt so ill-at-ease, and unhappy. I had my own apartment, for the very first time in my life. I got a job, to start supporting myself, in a textile mill, learning to make elasticized yarns, which went into creating pantyhose. I did that, for a couple of years, until I joined the Air Force, hoping to find a career, for myself, instead of the, blue collar, shift, job, that I had, in the textile manufacturing plant. 

But, that is another story, for another time. 

Jim's legal Separation Agreement, that his attorney drew up, was in effect for a year, leading up to our divorce, because there was a legal requirement, for us to be separated, for that long, before the divorce could be granted. It, included, providing me with a year's worth of Spousal Support, which really helped, while, I was getting on my feet, in Hickory; job hunting there, then waiting for my first paychecks, to start coming in, after I was hired, and, finally, building up some, financial, security, for myself. 

I felt, that was, a very, decent, way, for Jim, to end, something, with me, that, he had started, in, a very, indecent, way.