Back To Becoming 'Stevie', My Dancer Self

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hotel California

Eagles

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Heartache Tonight
Eagles

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

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


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

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

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

How I Became My Dancer Alter Ego Stevie

Wikipedia defines having an "alter ego" in this way: "An alter ego means alternative self, which is believed to be distinct from a person's normal or true original personality. Finding one's alter ego will require finding one's other self, one with different personality."  Many performers have a stage name, or an alias, but having an actual alter ego is, often, even more helpful, for them. Hollywood motion picture studios used to routinely create these, for their actors and actresses. Not only did the birth names, of those people, connect them, including psychologically, to their former life, which they had often wanted to leave behind them, for whatever reasons, but their (imagined and then developed) alter egos seemed more fulfilling, and fun, than the reality had actually been, before they got groomed to become stars. "Rock Hudson" was the alter ego for the truck driver whose real identity was Roy Harold Scherer Jr! His agent came up with it. The woman known as "Doris Day" who co-starred in movies with "Rock" was, in reality, ‎Doris Mary Anne Kappelhoff! Try fitting that onto a marquee! Beyonce created her stage persona, "Sasha Fierce", to be better able to deal with her stagefright and insecurities she felt when performing. As she got more comfortable onstage, and eventually merged with her alter ego, she began to use her own name, after that. Gypsy Rose Lee, famous for her striptease act, and my first role model for the dancer I would become, after watching a 1962 movie 'Gypsy' on TV, when I was a young girl, was Rose Louise Hovick in real life. If you have ever been one, of the millions, of people (including me) who have dyed their hair blonde at some point, out of both curiosity and hope, because of hearing that "Blondes have more fun", you comprehend, to some extent, the point, and the value, of having an alter ego, for yourself. A new hair color even affects identity!

When I was growing up we had relatives from Texas come to visit us some summers, and they would stay with us for awhile. On several of those hot, humid, North Carolina evenings I took it upon myself to create and choreograph impromptu shows with my female siblings and cousins as the cast and present them to our mothers. My brother and our male cousins had no interest in such things as all that singing and dancing that was the feature of those presentations. I was also used to performing, myself, in front of audiences at our church's programs, throughout my childhood years, culminating with my singing one of the main solos for one, when I was in high school. Around the time I was in 5th grade in elementary school, I had parts in different plays. I never did catch 'the acting bug', meaning that process of playing a completely different person. I just was not comfortable being someone other than who I was whether I was playing a real or fictional character. I simply could not mentally or emotionally grapple with and really grasp their ascribed traits and qualities. I had no real comprehension of someone I'd felt no shared identity with. However, for some reason, I really gravitated toward, and somehow saw my (deep, inner) self in, Gypsy Rose Lee, when I watched the biographical movie about her on TV, even though I was still only a child, being raised in an outwardly conservative home environment, back then. Nothing about her life looked much like mine, yet we seemed to be kindred spirits!  I somehow seemed able to resonate with her emotional life. Especially, regarding her relationship with her mother. Her mother was also clearly a narcissist, as my own, and Rose's attempts to cope with and endure her felt all too familiar to me. NPR has an excellent article on Gypsy Rose Lee that goes into some of this which I refer to here: https://www.npr.org/2011/01/08/132746887/gypsy-for-an-american-rose-a-thorny-story.  Her struggles with this helped me not to feel so all alone, in mine with my mother. In my heart Gypsy Rose Lee became a mentor, and my dance coach.

As far as my background, being more specific to dancing itself, there wasn't alot of exposure to it. When we went on a vacation, to White Lake, North Carolina, while I was still a preschooler, I walked past a large, open, paved area where teenagers were dancing together animatedly and apart from one another, doing the twist to that era's energetic 60s music. I just stood there, and stared at them, fascinated by what they were doing. I couldn't pull myself away from there, until I stood there for so long, looking at them, that the teenagers began to notice me, too, and stare back, smiling at me. I was too shy to want that type of notice, when I was young. (I outgrew my shyness as I grew up. Obviously, it would be difficult to be shy and be a 'stripper'.) Mom signed my brother, Mike, and I up to take a ballroom dance class, when I was around 12, which lasted for several weeks. We only learned the most basic steps for the waltz, foxtrot, and cha cha as I recall, with no embellishments, or styling, to express the specific tone of the dance through our bodies. The middle aged woman teaching this class seemed as if she didn't really like dancing, or teenagers! She played the same stale song for each dance she was teaching us, and never smiled at us, or seemed at all enthusiastic, or excited about dance itself. She was anything but inspiring, to learn from! I think that there were about 16 people, in our class. Inevitably, I ended up dancing with my brother, whenever it was time to practice couples dancing after we learned the steps, by standing behind the teacher, as she went through them, for us. For our last class, we actually had a dance party, but I don't recall anything at all about it being festive, although I did get a brand new dress for the occasion! It was a pale yellow with white lace or trim; but the darts on the bodice allowed for some actual developed breast tissue to fill it out which I did not yet have at age 12. So, before we left the house to go to the dance I stuffed all the toilet paper I could fit, into that space, between the dress and my fairly flat chest, and hoped it wouldn't fall out, while I was dancing with someone later, at the party. I was preoccupied with that very real concern, of mine, during the entire evening. While it went okay, with that, the anxiety that I felt about it was enough to undermine what was already an underwhelming social situation for me.

I did not go to prom in high school. It just wasn't my scene. It was not even that I wasn't asked. There were boys who made it obvious that they had real crushes on me! I both dated and had boyfriends. I even went steady with guys a few times, in high school. I just didn't want to go to the dance. I wasn't at all a partier, like the 'popular' group of kids were who I overheard talking about how drunk they got, and how so-and-so made out with so-and-so, behind the church on Saturday night. I had my special group of a few close friends, that I hung out with; and several others besides. For awhile I actually proudly wore a cross around my neck in high school as a meaningful testament to my deep Christian faith. One day, a girl friend invited me to an out-of-town equestrian event of hers, where her mother then gave each of us a very small paper cup of Cold Duck to toast her achievement in the horse riding competition that she was in that day. Even though I didn't feel any effect from the minimal amount I allowed to pass my lips into my body, I returned home, feeling violated, that her mother had put me in that position, in the first place, because that went beyond the normal peer pressure from other teens, which I was not very vulnerable to, growing up, due to the strong sense of self, that I had cultivated, in myself, by then. Those few small sips I took, to be polite to her mother, were the first and only alcohol that I ever drank the entire time I was growing up! I felt tainted now, because I hadn't planned to ever drink at all in my life, at that time. I really felt like I had lost some of my moral 'virginity', in a way.  I was a very spiritual, and principled, person then; and for much, although not all, of my life later on. Because of this happening, and how upset I had felt about that, I went to take a hot shower, as soon as I got home, trying, to wash away, that feeling, of compromise, of my sacred values, that was gnawing at me now. While I was standing underneath the water from the shower head, trying to scrub myself clean (more inside my soul, than outside my body!), I reached up to touch the little chain around my neck with the cross on it, and it broke, just as I did that, falling off of my neck into my hand. Seeing that as a kind of Sign of broken covenant and condemnation, in that moment, of me mourning the loss, of some of my innocence, I just stood there sobbing with the shower water pouring over my head and down my naked body. I had always protected my purity, the best that I could, in this world that I found myself living in, because it was very precious to me. I wouldn't even play 'Spin the Bottle' with the other teens because I instinctively knew, that, my lips, and kiss, were inextricably linked, to my heart, and love, and I never wanted to treat any of that lightly. I sensed, that was something very sacred; linking me, someone in my future, who was still completely unknown to me, and God Himself.

I was a studious girl, in glasses, who excelled in English class and was in the Chess Club with a bunch of boys, whom I sometimes beat, much to their chagrin, and only one other girl. I was average looking although not unattractive; skinny, and fairly flat-chested. If you had known me back then you likely would have voted me as a girl that was extremely unlikely to ever become an exotic dancer in nightclubs! My nose was always in books the entire time I was growing up, mostly as a merciful, and much-needed, escape, from the reality, of my childhood home life.  I would even go under the covers, with a flashlight, at bedtime, so that I could continue reading, when Mom would turn off the light in the room I shared then with my sister in Mebane, and tell me to stop for the night. However, I did, for some reason, do Gypsy Rose-like dance moves in the privacy of my own room, as a teenage girl!  At least, I thought I was doing that all alone, in my bedroom in Hickory, where I finally had a room all to myself, and kept the door shut almost all the time. As it turned out, the much older neighbor boy next door was sitting up in his room, with the lights out over there, so he wouldn't be seen, watching my every move; until his sister caught him doing that, and told my mother about it, who then told me. Although I felt the tug of destiny calling me to become an exotic dancer, it surely did not seem like the path I would end up on! Especially after I graduated from high school and went off to college, to pursue being a Philosophy/Religion major, and I began my study toward becoming a religious worker in some sort of Christian ministry capacity. In case you are wondering, since this blog post is about my becoming a dancer, I'm including all of this background, on who I was, so that you can see the contrast between that and who I eventually became before my dancing career was finally over. I would categorize that as my going from one extreme to the other, so this was quite a journey. In fact, it will take me more than one, although long, post, here, to tell all there is to tell, of that. This blog is, has been, and always will be a very detailed memoir of my own life. It is what it is.

While I was in the Air Force there was this tremendous, not even relational, but, strictly sexual, pressure placed on me, nonstop, because I was not only oppressively outnumbered due to an overwhelming ratio of males to females in this military environment, but so many of them were trying to act on their sexual impulses. Being in their path, I felt the full force of it, coming at me. It was literally overwhelming, for me, emotionally. It was simply more than I could deal with, or navigate through, well. It did not help my anxiety about that, any, at all, that I had already been married to a man that I wed only because I believed he had taken my virginity after getting me drunk, when I was in college, and I had been raped by a stranger when I started working a job that was meant to help me get on my feet, so I could try to leave, that husband, whom I hadn't loved. I suppose I would have to add that being molested, by my uncle, when I was a preteen, didn't help me, to feel safe, around men, either. It did, however, drive home the point that, only because I was a female, especially, one that was adequately attractive, to most males (based on the constant comments I got, from men), I was someone--- more truthfully, some THING--- that they desired. The impact of that made a huge impression, on me. One that would fuel my confidence, to be able to stand, on a stage, wearing little, to nothing, and move, my body, in a sultry, sexualized, way to some song. In fact, this message I was continually getting from men (loud and clear!) just made me feel so worn down, along with everything men were putting me through in the Air Force, while I was stationed at Offutt, that I agreed to go along with some of my male enlisted friends who lived in the same co-ed dorm that I did, when they wanted to go out, to a strip club, one evening. As they drove from Bellevue, Nebraska, where the base was, across the Missouri river, into Iowa, through Council Bluffs, and then to the far side, of that, to just outside the city limits, to finally arrive at this bar, I was relieved, that I hadn't actually been kidnapped by them, for nefarious purposes! (I had gotten into a vehicle, with a man, not many years before this, who had then driven me to a remote location against my will, and raped me, which explains why I had felt, increasingly, apprehensive, in this car, with two men, when they were driving me, to a more and more similar-looking landscape.) The trip there had been long, and dark. It finally ended, in this, isolated, location, where the zoning laws allowed this type of establishment to even exist. As we got out of the car, to go in, I wondered how they had found this place to begin with! It seems men will go to great lengths just to see a naked female body.

We weren't there a really long time. Maybe just an hour or two. While there, I met, and chatted awhile with, one of the bouncers, while the two friends of mine kept their sight set on the stage and the dancers, taking turns, up there. This man had ID'd us when we entered, to be sure we were all of legal age to be in such a bar, and he had been surprised when, along with my male friends, I had shown him my official, U.S. Air Force, Active Duty, ID! He was a huge black man, named Claude, with a big friendly smile and a genuine way about him. We just kind of became instant buddies, as we chatted there, that evening. He actually treated me with, real, respect! I would never have known that night, though, that he was going to end up being my first, actual, friend, that I met, in the business, when I later became a dancer, in these clubs, in the Omaha metro area. Life, is so strange!  We just never, really, know, as we meet random people, along the way, on any given day on this earth, what significance they may end up having in our lives, and how they may contribute to or affect the ways that our lives will end up going. Years later I would be a dancer myself, in a different bar, that Claude would be a bouncer in. But that night, I never could have known, any of that, at all. I had joined the Air Force, wanting, and planning, to have a long career in military service. Soon, though, it would unravel, beyond repair, for me. (That is covered in my blog post, about my time in the Air Force, if you want more information:   https://ascentthroughthedarknightofthesoul.blogspot.com/2019/07/my-career-in-united-states-air-force-it.html.) I felt safe there, that night, with Claude as my new friend, and I felt fairly safe with my two Air Force friends. I also felt like letting off some steam, pent up inside me, from so many men seeing me as a sex object, so when the show ended with a talent contest, I agreed to get up on stage with a few other women from the audience when my buddies egged me on, and I won that contest. I think we went down to underwear like a bikini. I can't really remember now, though. It was very well lit, too, for 'a stripper bar'! It wasn't dark, or dimly lit, inside, at all.

On the way back to the base, one of those two knuckleheads, I was in the car with, decided to smoke a bit of a joint, he had gotten, somewhere. I was sitting in the back seat, and protested, but, he assured me everything would be alright. Yeah, right!  As we pulled up to the base gate, late that night, the SPs, at the gate, decided they wanted to do a security check on the vehicle. I don't do drugs, and I was freaking out that I would get in trouble, like these guys surely would if those cops smelled that pot, in the car! They even had the german shepherd police dog with them. As they came closer, to the car, I was sitting, in the back seat, my eyes open wide, from fear. Suddenly inspiration struck me, and with it just a wisp of hope along with that whiff of pot. I used my being frightened to try to get us out of this jam. As they got nearer, I said out the car window, "I'm really scared of dogs! Do you have to bring that dog over here? Let the guys just bring you our IDs instead!" After all, the official sticker, that designated their car as authorized, to enter the base, was visible, to them; and, this was long before 9-11 happened, and security restrictions and gate checks got more strict. Seeing real fear, on my face, and likely because I was 'acting like such a girl', which can bring out protective instincts, in men, they agreed! They backed away from the car before they ever got close enough for either them or the dog to sniff that pot smoke which still lingered, lightly, inside the vehicle. (Besides the real fear on my face due to the drug smoke from my friend, putting us at risk of real trouble, as military personnel, I actually had been extremely scared of dogs when I was a child but had eventually outgrown it. I used my recollections, of how I had felt, and acted, then, around dogs, to bring that, from the past, to the present moment, we found ourselves in, at the base gate.) When we were okayed to enter the gate and go on our way, my buddies thanked me, for keeping their butts out of hot water over the pot; but even more because I had agreed to enter the talent contest at the strip club, and they got to watch me. Doing that. In front of them. Geez! Men. That was my one and only 'wild' adventure, while I was in the Air Force. Nothing like that night happened again; then.

Since I was still enlisted I did get a two sentence lecture, though, from an officer who I worked under, at the time, when he found out, that I had been in that dance contest. He told me that, I could not do such things, while I was Active Duty Air Force, because I actually belonged to the U.S Government, and I reflected on them 24/7. Of course, this was very hypocritical of him, to tell me, given what both he and I knew that the males were pulling, all the time. Including him! Not only was he my commander, during that time, and a married man, but he, also, 'hit on me' for sex, continually! I was assigned directly under his command only because I didn't have my security clearance to be able to work in the unit that I had actually been ordered to report to at Offutt.  He was actually the sexual predator, that was so persistent, and pushy, about trying to get me to have sex with him, which I wouldn't and never did, that I had to turn him in to Social Actions, on base, finally, because I felt like he was going to end up raping me; and my military career was the one that was ruined, from that. As far as his admonishment, about my dancing in the strip club's Amateur Night Talent Show, I asked him whether I would be getting a written reprimand or anything in my military record about it, then, and he said no. Then he said, "One more thing.  About that contest, airman . . . . Did you win?"  I replied, honestly, "Yes, sir. I did!" He had already been asking me, several, very pointed, sexual questions, before this day, and this conversation. Culminating with the day he touched my chest, in my uniform blouse, in his small, green, MG car he had ordered me into; telling me that we WERE going to have sex. So  I did not start this line of thinking, in this man. I merely let him know, the best way, that I could, seeing as I was not allowed to slap him since he outranked me as an officer and was over me as my commander, then, that while I was a sexual being it would NEVER be anything that HE would get his hands on. Literally, or otherwise. There was a predator and prey game going on. I did not start it, want it, and was not given a choice, in the matter. He started it, with me; and I finished it, with him. Turning him in for it. But is cost me everything. My entire Air Force career.

After I was discharged from the Air Force, I worked for just a few days as a stripper in a rather sleazy-looking dive, in Biloxi. I had returned, to Mississippi, to see whether the one man that I loved, more than I have ever loved any human being on this earth, still had any love for me; if in fact he ever did. My 'dancing', in that bar, was more like walking around on stage, much like Natalie Wood did in the movie 'Gypsy'*; trying to keep the slick black satin, high heeled, mules on my feet. This was real stripping, though; a 3-song-set ending up with me completely naked, except for the shoes, and the black feather boa I carried with me. It was kind of an out-of-body experience for me; probably because I wished that I was, while doing that, then! I wasn't really into it. It was more of a desperate act, on my part. A cry for help. For love, really; from Jim, the young lieutenant, that I was, completely, in love with, who seemed to have lost his use, for me, and with that, his affection, for me, as well. That was both heartbreaking and humiliating to me. I had been so sure, that we had something special, together. How could I have been so wrong, about that? About us? About him? Now in my early twenties, I was still under the 'Disney' spell. All of those movies had conditioned me to believe that there simply had to be a happy ending! They had informed girls everywhere that 'The End' was just the beginning, and simply couldn't come to that conclusion (in the story on the screen) without the girl being loved, in return, by a knight, in shining armor, or a prince. When that didn't happen with Jim, and I, in Biloxi, I had to come up with a, last minute, contingency plan, which was, for me, to pick up the pieces, of my shattered heart, try not to think about the (actual, physical) pain that I felt from the depth of my loving him so much, when he no longer wanted me, and shed what was left of my self-esteem, along with my clothes, in front of strange men, in the strip joint. I could only tolerate, all of that, for a few days. Then, being, at least, a survivor, by instinct, largely due to how I had learned to cope, with my upbringing, I started searching, for some, more viable, option, even though, any, open for consideration, at that moment, were so far down from any desirable outcomes for me that they weren't even actually on my list of possibilities. I simply had to figure it out, and move forward. My life was going to go on, no matter how ransacked, and ruined, I felt emotionally or mentally. What I did not expect was that I would turn out to be pregnant by Jim, then; who had not wanted me, but had wanted sex with me, and left me with this additional dilemma, to top it all off. I had agreed to have sex with him because I loved him. He wanted to have sex with me to have sex. I had never wanted to have children, and, he had promised to 'pull out'. He didn't.

This part of my journey including my becoming a stage dancer is well covered in my blog post from 7-24-19: https://ascentthroughthedarknightofthesoul.blogspot.com/2019/07/more-on-one-man-that-i-would-love.html, so I refer you to that post, for more detail, about it. From that post: "Jim helped me [to] get a better job, learning how to become a ballroom dance instructor, at a studio, where he had been involved, in ballroom dance, while he was in this area. The owners taught me, and a few others also hired to train as teachers, the dance steps, just ahead of our having to teach these same steps to paying students!" I was let go from that job though, when it turned out I was pregnant rather than only overly emotional because Jim had left me behind when he left there, for his first duty base, in Nebraska. In summation, of that chapter in my life, here, though, we ended up, unhappily, married to one another, had our son, I ended up giving Jim and his second wife custody of our son, and Jim paid for me to go to a community college to take a 6-week course, to become a Certified Nursing Assistant, so that I could have a more mainstream career choice going forward. I had really enjoyed being a nurse's aide. That really resonated well with the very best of who I was as my original self, "Deborah". However, due to a series of, seemingly, disparate, events, about three years later, I went from being a Certified Nursing Assistant on a hospital medical/surgical patient floor to a go-go dancer, in most of the nightclubs that were in, and around, Omaha, Nebraska, during my career. The post dated 10-30-19 titled "I Was Left Burned Out And Brokenhearted" describes alot more about the events which led up to that change of careers, as well. I believe it really was 'a destiny thing', for me! Although I didn't really recognize the foreshadows, when they appeared across my childhood, at the time, they were there. I can say, now, in retrospect, that I believe we can, all, sense the seeds of our own personal destiny, deep down within us, long before they ever start to sprout, and then bloom, into what they were sown in us to become. The link to my 10-30-19 blog post is: https://ascentthroughthedarknightofthesoul.blogspot.com/2019/10/from-my-giving-all-i-had-to-my-showing.html. It explains how I finally came to be called by my stage name "Stevie" too; my chosen dancer alias, and my alter ego, neither of which I had been using, prior to this time.

While I was working as a dancer, in this part of the United States, within the city limits, of both Omaha, Nebraska, and Council Bluffs, Iowa (right across the Missouri river from Omaha, and considered to be part of this Greater Metro Area), only go go bars, were legally allowed. So, I want to point out along with that, here, that often go go dancers are, wrongly, called 'strippers' because they do not (completely) undress. The only time in my entire employment as a stage dancer I ever danced totally nude was those few days back in Biloxi. So as far as dancers go, what I did was the tamest type of exotic dancing, all those years I was, mostly, employed as a go go girl. I did other jobs too, during some of those years, which I plan to cover separately, in later posts, but, most of the time from my late 20s to my early 40s I was "Stevie". So much so, in fact, that when I married club customers for my last two husbands of my four, I continued to go by the name "Stevie", in my private life, even during those (most personal of) relationships, because 'she' had become, more authentically, 'me'; or, rather, me, 'her', than the "Deborah" I had so gladly discarded, years earlier, that was tied in to so many bad memories, such as my former identity as the family scapegoat during my childhood and more. These marriages were spoken of anecdotally, in a previous post dated 3-6-19, and will be covered in deeper detail in later posts. I would absolutely assert that dancing on stage, in nightclubs, was by far the most fun job that I ever had and for several reasons provided me with some of the best years of my life! This doesn't mean that everything about it was life in the limelight with no dark side. There was plenty . . . of both, those things, which I will begin to describe in much greater detail in the very next post, here. This post simply lays out the foundation upon which that story will unfold. In the next post, I will begin to take you behind-the-scenes, into the clubs, the dressing rooms, the conversations, with the customers, and my co-workers; even the cops, the sights, and the sounds, of this environment, that actually, unexpectedly, captivated me, capturing my heart, in the process of that. I believe that it will take more than a couple of posts to cover all of this, in-depth, as I plan to do here. There is simply so much to say about it, because it was one of the most meaningful eras of my life! The atmosphere. The people. The hope. And, the heartbreak, including, more of my own. Some of it is so funny! Some, of it, so sad. Some of it will be about sin, and, much, of it, will be about grace, and even redemption. God does so love the sinners! By the way, in case you think otherwise that includes me, you and every person on this planet.

What I need for you to understand about it, for now, though, is that every man that (especially sexually) objectified me, mistreated me, molested me, raped me, abused me, broke my heart, and, in some way, or other, ruined my life, also, killing my hopes, dreams, goals, and plans, in the process, fueled the fiery feistiness, that rose up in me, but that flashed from Stevie's eyes, as 'she' made sure that men could never take the things they wanted, from me, now. Men call this being a 'Prick Teaser', with scorn, in their voice, about that! But, in my opinion, they had it coming, in spades, for all they took, from me, forced, upon me, broke, in me without even any thought, or care, at all, about what condition, I was left in, by them, after they had stormed my very soul, and pillaged, the preciousness, that was me. Stevie, was my superhero, in stilettos! She stood in my stead, strong, fierce, and defiant, where I, Deborah, had been, all my life, but had become so battered, and so broken; and she gave me respite, and rest, from all, that had worn me down, and worn me out, blown my mind and crushed my spirit over the course of my life; until she came . . . to be me. Ever since I was a small child, I had needed a vacation from who, and what, "Deborah", was 'supposed' to be, with all the constraints, conflicts, and crises, in my life that became embedded in my character and personality, as her. It is interesting, that when God began moving someone, away from their former life, into some whole, new destiny, according to His plan, for them, He would sometimes change their name, at the very outset of this transition. Abram, became Abraham, Sarai, became Sarah, Jacob, became Israel, Simon, became Peter. I believe, that the Lord had a hand in Saul's name change, to Paul, as well. All, of these people, were not just given new names. The name changes came with significant life changes, as they were then moved into their, unique, destinies, also; according to the plan, of God, for their lives. Although I can't explain it, and to very strictly religious people, I am sure, I could not defend it, I, absolutely, feel, I was meant, to become "Stevie", as part of my destiny! Whether God willed it, or simply allowed it, I cannot say, this side, of heaven. Some, of it, was sinful. Parts, of it, extremely so! Yet, if anyone says, that God can't use sinners--- which some pastors did protest, to me, while I was a dancer in these nightclubs--- then God can't use any, of us, at all, on this entire planet, since "All have sinned, and come short of the glory of God." (Romans 3:23) God can and does bring good from bad. The fact that I love God with all that I am and my life story is now shared as a testimony of His Grace and Love, is evidence of that.

Still, there were some things, about it, that, deeply, grieved the Holy Spirit, at the time, and for that I feel so truly sorry, to this day. They say, 'Hurt people hurt people', and in this case, I hurt the Personhood of God, with some of the things that I did as a dancer. I will cover all of that in detail, and in depth, in the posts that I am planning to write which I am devoting to this subject. Be forewarned: I am telling you, now, though, that some of it is not going to be a pretty picture. All, of that anger, and sadness, and frustration, which I felt, inside me, led to the creation, and the sustainment, of my alter ego, "Stevie", when I finally did become her, as a dancer. That, is why, although some of what I am sharing might not seem relevant to the subject matter of this post, specifically, it does all tie in to it. Becoming a dancer isn't only about moving your feet, or even, 'shaking your ass'! It incorporates what you think, of men, and how you feel about them; how you interact, with them; live your life, with, or without, and even in spite of, them; and last, but not least (especially, for me!), how you 'survive' them, during, and after, their being in your life. The real heartaches, and life losses, which the men, in my world, created and caused me, became the, deep, wellspring, of what, I would draw from, somewhere, within my own soul, to both birth and maintain my alter ego "Stevie". After all, she was not some other person! As my alter ego, "Stevie" was, a very real, part of me; of who I was, somewhere, inside. Some would argue that she represented a manifestation of my Dark Side. She did, in some ways. But, she was my light, as well. There were blessings and curses, pros and cons, to becoming, to being, "Stevie". It will take me more than just this one blog post to tell all that, though. This is just the foundational background, as I begin, to describe, this really long and winding journey, of how I became her, for better, and for worse. So, be patient, with me, here, because there is ALOT to tell, on this subject. If you think that some of this that I am sharing is not relevant, I assure you that you are very wrong, and don't (yet) understand all that comes to bear on how, or why, any woman becomes a go go girl, an exotic dancer or a stripper. It's a complicated and sometimes conflicting situation, for any female doing it. It is more than a job; or a stereotype. It is your life!

So, I fit that image, that many of us have seen, of the lady, that looks like a librarian, taking off her thick eyeglasses with the dark, mannish, frames and unpinning her hair from the tight bun  it is in, atop her head, to then abruptly release her longer hair in waves with a strong shake of her head. This, makes a, very good, visual analogy, about myself, in going from who I was, as "Deborah", to who I would become, as "Stevie", as I grew into being the alter ego that was the dancer. Even that type, of (go go) dancing, felt like it was such a rebellious act, though. In fact, it would begin to show up more and more in my life precisely at the times that I felt I really was rebelling, against someone, or something, in my life. Because of that it took me years to really see the hand of God in having me working in those clubs. I had pastors protesting that I could not even be saved and be a dancer. I agree that there seems to be some incongruity between the two. However I also believe that God is all about so much more mercy than condemnation, and love than rejection based both on scripture--- including the keystone verse of John 3:16--- and my experience, of Him, in our relationship, over my lifetime. According to scripture, Psalm 139:16**, He foreknew that I would go into dancing, as a career, in my life. I cannot say, in this world, whether He had planned that for me, Himself, or allowed that with me by His Grace. He undeniably used that as an opportunity to reach so many people that I interacted with in those places; that 'good', whitewashed, 'church folk' wouldn't have ever gone near enough to, to say anything, to these people, living in that darkness, about God loving them! Loving them, just as much, as He has loved those sitting in the church pews every Sunday. Because of what I saw, with Christians, especially, during the years, I was, in fact, a Christian AND an exotic dancer, I still say that, I am a very spiritual person and deeply love the Lord but I am NOT religious, and hope that I never will be! Religion, is about rules. God, is about relationship; because from the start humans made it obvious that we weren't going to be willing, or able, to follow those rules, but, God loved all of us, too much, to lose us! The blood of the Cross is STRONG, my friends!

"For God so loved the world that He gave His one and only Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life."  John 3:16

*https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TGHtz9DKqk8

**Psalm 139:16 "Your eyes saw me when I was only a fetus. Every day [of my life] was recorded in your book before one of them had taken place."  (God's Word Translation)