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).

Being A Dancer, In Nightclubs, Could Be Dangerous, Or Deadly; Including For Me

Regardless, of which aspects I am trying to describe, of my having been a dancer on stage in nightclubs, which was an extensive chapter in my life, there's so many layers, nuances, twists and turns, and all kinds of characters involved in the picture of what life was like for me during those years. That has made it extremely challenging, for me, to find the most cohesive way to tell all these things. My being 'Stevie' had really been gaining traction, now, in this new career field. I was making the best money I ever made, most of which came from male admirers who tipped me in the nightclubs that I worked in. I also got a weekly paycheck from the club. I was strong, toned, sexy, and turning heads, wherever I went. I received much more male attention than I ever wanted to have, actually. It often just felt like an intrusion in my life. An unwelcome amount of pressure on me, from these males. It got downright oppressive, after awhile. It was something I could never escape from, even when I was off work and away from the club that I danced in, when I was just trying to relax, somewhere, or have some much-needed 'me' time.  I had learned to interact with the customers at the club much better, which had been the most difficult thing for me to learn, about this job, when I got into the business, because (1) I had to be able to talk to every kind of guy imaginable, which was a challenge in itself, and (2) I'd had to 'dumb down', alot, to be able to speak to the majority of them on a level that I wasn't talking over their heads, completely, or intimidating them, because of my being a fairly intelligent and very cerebral woman. This line of work can also be quite dangerous for a dancer. You have to be extremely careful about letting it spill over into your private life. I learned that the hard way.

At work, it was my turn, now, to be in the dressing room, changing costumes, and have some other girl come back there to tell me, "Stevie, one of your regulars just came in and is waiting for you!", to which, I could now honestly reply, "Which one?" Then, "Tell him I'll be right out." I may not be loved, I told myself, but being desirable and in demand is at least kind of fun--- as long as it pays in good tips, anyway. I had no use for male sentimentality toward me anymore.  I had nothing, in my life, to show for that, except disappointment, disillusionment, and despair.  I stopped wearing my heart on my sleeve and wore my tips in my garter. My naivete vanished much more quickly now, getting replaced by some savvy Street Smarts. I liked my Stevie self! She was a strong woman, who was sure of herself, and lived in the real world now rather than in Deborah's Disney-like daydreams. Stevie, was not going to be someone so loyal and loving that she ended up making herself a doormat to some guy who just took her for granted, in her faithfulness, and didn't cherish the depth of her love, which were traits that were very much at the forefront, of my Deborah self. Frankly, after all the heartbreak, it was just really nice to not give a damn for a change. Quality was so lacking in love that I settled for quantity in admirers. Now my mindset was like: Give me something, I need, now, for a change, or I will move on to someone who will. I wasn't on a sentimental journey anymore, with the male sex. I told myself  I didn't need love, because it seemed hopeless by this point to keep expecting that to happen.

There were quite a few men that claimed to love me, during those years, and many, who said they wanted me. I even married two different club customers, both, of which, became abusive toward me in various ways, with the last one being the very worst of all to the point that I refer to him as a Son of Satan. When I had married each of them, God had told me not to; but I did anyway, because I fully believed that no one better would ever come along, for me, now. That this would be as good as it was ever going to get, for me, for the rest of my life. God loves us, so much, though, that His saying "No" to us, about people or things, is His trying to protect us from others, and sometimes, even from ourselves. When humans are in pain, especially from the heartache, of lovelessness, they can become very self-destructive, in ways. Including me. With both of these marriages, I knew that I was settling, for someone, and something, that my heart was not in. But I didn't realize, until I was working on the, several, blog posts about him, that the only man I have ever loved was my second husband, Jim. When I gave him my heart, it must have really been for forever, because it would seem that I've never really had it back in my own possession, to be able to give to anyone else, ever since then. Or, really, even before, I loved him! He was just THE ONE that MY heart TRULY loved. As for the last two (of my four) husbands, I plan to describe them in much greater detail, in later posts. There were other men I met in these clubs who were also a danger to me, though. Not just those I married from there.

At the Backdoor, there was a guy, that was a regular, of Kristal's. She was one of the dancer's that made most of her money outside the club, booking club customers, as her clients, for her own Call Girl gig, where she preferred to give them 'The Girlfriend Experience', as her form of prostitution. After years of her living this lifestyle, though, she wanted out. She wanted the real thing. To be one man's real girlfriend, and then wife; and she wanted to have kids before it got too late, for her, to do that. She, like all of us did, really, deep down, wanted to finally find love. She told me her knees were giving out on her, also, from all the strain on them due to the way that she danced. She had been a classy Call Girl, as far as that went. I knew some of Kristal's club customers who were also her Call Girl clients from them coming into the club and despite their illicit sex life from hiring her as a prostitute they were considered to be successful men in society, with good-paying careers. This regular customer, of hers, named Don, while he had a good job and seemed to be a nice, and stable, man, on the surface, turned out to be seriously, even, dangerously, mentally, and emotionally, unbalanced! Don was a construction supervisor. He was an average-looking, middle-aged, man. Nothing seemed ominous about him, at all, as he came in to the Backdoor Lounge fairly often wearing his jeans and muddy work boots, from the construction site he worked at, to sit with Kristal. As she began to exit the dancer scene, in Omaha, for a chance at a real life as Karen (her real name), somewhere far enough away that her reputation did not, and could not, precede her, and hopefully not follow her, her regulars at the Backdoor were just left hanging, since they came to see her, there. I noticed, that Don was coming into the bar and sitting at a table all by himself as he waited for her time after time, and eventually leaving in silence while looking quite lonely, when she never showed up, to join him. None of us other girls had ever approached him to sit with him because any dancer sitting with someone else's regulars was considered a bitch and was usually dealt with in some less-than-happy way, by the dancer these guys 'belonged to', even though the club management always maintained that all customers were theirs, and therefore, fair game, to whichever dancer could sell drinks for them, by sitting at that table; regardless of which dancer the guy usually sat with.

[I had sat with a dancer's regular, when I was brand new to working at the Bittersweet, without knowing that he was one, because he didn't tell me that he was actually waiting for her when I approached him! Usually, those guys, that are a dancer's regulars, will give you a heads up by saying, "Thanks, but I am waiting for so-and-so", so you know, to leave them alone; he's hers. After all, we were required to go up to guys that entered these clubs, to talk to them and try to get them to buy us drinks, for the business.  Dancers were expected to sell our specified drink quota every shift, by these clubs.  It was money that also paid our hourly wages, among other things. Being the new girl at the Bittersweet, then, I was just trying to do a good job, with what was required of me. When I approached this man, there, he had invited me to sit with him and didn't tell me he was actually waiting for the other dancer to come out of the dressing room, to join him. So, I had no idea, until I felt several, long, sharp, talon-like fingernails digging into my flesh and scratching me from my shoulder down my back stinging my skin as they drew blood, and I turned, and saw her standing there, furious at me for sitting with HER regular! It was just TABOO, to DO, between dancers, that were not bitches; leaving her to assume that this NEW girl, ME, was a BITCH, which she dealt with according to her misunderstanding of the scene. I immediately excused myself from the customer, leaving him to her, and went to wash wounds, wishing the guy had just told me instead of putting me in that position with my new co-worker.]

So, I continued to see Don come in to the Backdoor, time after time, sitting all alone, watching the dancers, take their turns, on stage; never saying a word, to any of us, or vice versa. When he asked the waitress bringing him his drinks, about Kristal, they would only tell him each time that she was out of town, right now. It got to the point, that I felt sorry for him, because he was being strung along, by the waitress, who didn't want to risk losing her tips, from him, by telling him, that Kristal was actually in an elaborate, extended, process of trying to start a whole new life somewhere else entirely, so she could leave this one behind her--- which included him. As this went on for awhile, I felt it just wasn't right, that he didn't know that Kristal wasn't planning on ever really coming back, if she could help it, so I went over to his table and asked if I could sit with him. He seemed so lonely! Without explaining anything, about where Kristal had gone, or what she was doing (since if she'd wanted HIM to KNOW, SHE would've told him), I let him know that she might not be coming back. I offered to keep him company, in there, but with the mutual understanding that I would only sit with him until, or unless, she returned. (I knew, that she was trying to start a whole new life, in another state, but it was too soon to know, even for her, if she would actually be able to pull that off or whether she would decide to return to work at the club in Omaha. She'd left her options open.) I explained that if/when she did come back that I would, of course, immediately defer, to her, sitting with him, again. He knew, that he was her regular so he hadn't even tried to sit with any of us all those times that she was gone, and he understood that out of respect for his and Kristal's longtime bond that I would not be willing to intrude on that if she were there. He was fine with that, he said, and grateful for someone to talk to, now. Alot of times, the guys that came in were trying to distract themselves from things in their real lives that were not going well for them. These clubs were like their fantasy escape, from whatever that was. I felt sorry for him. I learned two very important things about men, the hard way, while I was a dancer: NEVER involve yourself with a man, on ANY LEVEL, because you FEEL SORRY FOR HIM, whether that comes from pity or compassion for them. I promise you, you will have cause to REALLY REGRET that decision. You WILL only end up BEARING THE BRUNT, of their ISSUES, and DYSFUNCTION, if you do that! And DON'T allow any man into your personal life that you REALLY DON'T WANT THERE. It will NOT GO WELL for YOU.

One evening as Don and I were sitting and talking in the bar between my dance sets on stage, he asked me what I was doing on my day off, and, feeling comfortable with him, at that point, I mentioned that I was going shopping, the next day, to try to find and buy a cookie press. Then, Don offered to take me, to do that, and would not take no for an answer. That, was ANOTHER thing I learned, the HARD way: NEVER TO GIVE IN to men, when they attempt to OVERRIDE MY TRUE WISHES; ESPECIALLY about MY OWN LIFE! I really didn't WANT to spend my day off with a CLUB CUSTOMER. That felt like STILL BEING AT WORK, for me. I was required, to talk to men, at WORK, ALL the time, so, when I was OFF work, I wanted, and needed, a break from that. A man's expectations from us can put a real burden on us. We DO have OUR OWN NEEDS, to attend to, as women! Men are so often TAKERS, much more, than GIVERS, which can feel like their presence, in our lives, is SUCKING THE  LIFE OUT OF US! He had seemed 'normal', still, at THAT point; just really lonely. I was trying to be a friend to him, without leading him on at all. I wasn't trying to seduce him or anything like that at all. I was completely celibate almost all of the time, all those years that I was a dancer, believe it or not, and I was no longer looking for love, in my life. I was still, always, in love with Jim Carlin, from the time that we met at Keesler Air Force Base, only I was not CONSCIOUSLY aware of that, AT ALL, until I started processing my thoughts, and emotions, about my life, and, the people in it, by writing this blog. Even though, I was not aware of that, subconsciously it was affecting my decisions about, and feelings toward, other men, and holding me back from really getting deeply involved with them.

Because Don was absolutely insistent on taking me shopping, even though I really didn't want to do that, with him, I made the grave mistake, of letting him pick me up, where I lived. He had SEEMED like such a nice guy, that I felt safe with him; and at that point we had only talked, as friends, in the bar. He had never come on to me, at all. That day, of shopping, he also seemed very sane and like he just wanted to be helpful. He was kind of annoying though; like having a puppy, always at my heels, wanting my attention, when I, really, needed some 'me' time. I was shocked and scared though the very next day, when I opened my shades, and saw him sitting outside, in his car, instead of being at work, looking up at the windows, to try to see which one was mine! Realizing THIS man was NOW a BIG problem, for me, even for this reason alone, I quickly moved away from the window, before he could see me, got dressed, and went outside, to ask him what he was doing, there! Why wasn't he at work? He said he took the day off, and wanted to spend it with me. UH OH! I was getting REALLY SCARED, now, as well as PISSED OFF. I had made no such plans with this guy. First he had not respected my wishes, about our not going on the shopping trip together, on my day off, pressuring me into it, against my better instincts, and now he clearly wasn't respecting my boundaries, regarding my private life. I also had to work later that night, and I needed SOME time to MYSELF, because this club customer had taken up my whole day off, the day before this. Don, had gotten his foot in the door, of my PRIVATE LIFE, and, was NOW trying to RAM HIMSELF into it--- and I didn't WANT him there!  I told him that I could not spend the day with him, and that he could see me in the CLUB, later.

I was REALLY starting to DREAD dealing with THIS guy, now. But, I HAD to go to WORK; and sure enough, he came in there, later that evening, with a card for me that, ironically, due to my analogy about him from our shopping trip, had a drawing of a lovesick puppy on it, in which he had written that HE LOVED ME! OMG! This guy was REALLY SCARING ME, now! He did not even really know ME! We had only talked together, in the club, except for the one, unfortunate, shopping trip. The two of us DID NOT HAVE a personal, or ROMANTIC relationship, together!  I would have HAD A SAY, in that, and I would have made my part of that obvious, and clear, to him. Only IT DIDN'T EXIST BETWEEN US! We had never held hands, hugged, looked deeply into each other's eyes, dated, NOTHING, to either create, or indicate, a LOVE CONNECTION was developing, or existing, between us. When I pointed all that out, to him, thinking rationally that SURELY, he would ACKNOWLEDGE, this FACT, he literally started SCREAMING AT ME, in full-on ANGER, right in the club, in front of everybody! He was heard screaming at me even over the very loud music, by everyone in the bar, who turned to look at the over-the-top scene he was creating. I was frozen, in fear, from this guy! I got mad, then, because I was so scared by him. We had bouncers in these bars too. I told him, in NO UNCERTAIN TERMS, that I had only started sitting with him to TRY to be NICE, because I had felt bad for him, that Kristal had left town and not even told him that; and that I had NO INTENTION, OR DESIRE, to start ANY personal, or permanent, relationship with him outside of this bar! NOR DID I OWE HIM THAT! He got even angrier at me, for that. But, I alerted the bouncer to the situation and Don backed down and left. As far as I was concerned, I was well RID of him! We had not even been sitting together, at the club, all that long, before this happened, with him. I also had never flirted, with him, or come on to him, or led him on. I hadn't wanted him getting too attached to me, in case Kristal ended up changing her mind, about moving away, for good, and came back, to work at the club. I'd been very careful, with this guy, because of that. I had only tried to be nice to him!

A couple of years later, when I was working at The Twenties, I was sitting alone on a bar stool waiting for customers, to come in, for us to have to start dancing for. Whenever, there weren't, any, which wasn't often, we either gave our high-heeled feet a much-appreciated break, or we would get up on stage and practice some new moves so that we could hopefully perfect those enough, to add to our routines, in the hope that they would get us more tips! On this particular day, the club was just opening, so it was now just after 4 o'clock in the afternoon as we began a shift which would go until 1 AM. The bouncer was nowhere in sight, at the time, because we didn't have any customers yet, for him to need to keep an eye on. Suddenly, the door opened very quickly, and in walked Don, the club customer from the Backdoor Lounge. I had not seen or spoken with him, since I told him to stay away from me, years before. He had really shaken me up back then because we had really only interacted with one another on a fairly superficial level, and for a relatively short amount of time, before he had tried to stake some, crazy, claim on some very personal, romantic, relationship, with me, that was NEVER THERE, BETWEEN US! I had only been friendly and kind, toward this man. I hadn't come on to him, or led him on, or ever hugged, kissed, or done anything sexual, at all, to give him any reason or right to have that impression, in his, definitely deluded, mind. That had been bizarre, back then!  But, it was ABOUT to get EVEN MORE SO, as he spotted where I was sitting, and walked right up to me.

He very well may have known that I worked there, at The Twenties, now, before he even came in to the club, that day, because there was a large, full-color, photo, of me on stage, along with the photos of some of the other dancers, under protective glass, on both sides of the entrance, as enticements, to draw customers in, to this nightclub; presented for all to see, right out in the open under the banner of 'LIVE ENTERTAINMENT'. There was also a gossip grapevine going between all the Go Go bars in the area, because dancers would quit or be fired from one club, and go to work at another club, and word would get back to former co-workers and customers, where they had gone. Either way, as soon as Don entered the Showgirl room, where I danced at The Twenties, he had looked right at ME. His jaw was set, and his eyes were filled with fury. Then, without hesitation, he walked up to me, knocked me right off of my bar stool, with a very scornful shove, and pushed me, against the wall, pinning me, there, with his hands around my throat. As he started to choke me he was looking right into my terrified eyes, spitting his words at me, through his unbridled, out of control, RAGE! Through a tightly clenched jaw he growled at me, "YOU! RUINED! MY! LIFE! I FELL IN LOVE WITH YOU, and YOU REJECTED ME! I WENT INTO A MENTAL HOSPITAL-- FOR SIX MONTHS!-- AFTER THAT! I LOST MY JOB, OVER IT, TOO! YOU. DID THAT. TO ME!" I couldn't speak from fearing for my life as I felt his hands tightening around my neck. I could only look at him helplessly as he started to squeeze my throat with his hostile hands. Knowing that I couldn't have caused all that, didn't help, now.

One of the other dancers had gone to find the bouncer, as soon as she saw Don start shoving me around, so violently, and when he got back there, Don let go of me, and left, after sneering at me, contemptuously, "You're NOT EVEN WORTH IT!"  His hand marks stayed, on my neck, that shift, becoming bruising.  I was extremely shaken up, by all of it! He was banned, from the bar, for that, but I knew, he could always wait outside, in the dark of night, for when I came out of the club at closing time. I was very concerned that he was so out of touch with reality, as he was! So volatile!  And, so emotionally unstable! Now that this physical attack, on me, from him, had come out-of-the-blue, after I hadn't even seen him anywhere around for a couple of years, at that point, I wasn't sure what else he was capable of doing to me. He had behaved in a very irrational manner, toward me, ever since his 'declaration of love', two years earlier, followed by his angry outburst, at me, back then, when I had rebuffed him, for it, which had also been very unsettling. Because he had built up some fantasy relationship with me, in his obviously deeply troubled mind, he was carrying an enormous grudge, against me; apparently for YEARS now!  I hadn't allowed him to force his fantasy into my reality, and he didn't seem to comprehend, at all, that I had any choice or say in the matter. Even when men do not react this extremely to a woman's rejection of their intentions, toward them, many men feel entitled to have whatever it is they want, with women! They see us as being on this Earth merely as objects, often of their desire, that are therefore supposed to yield ourselves, to their whims, and wishes, rather than be free to express ourselves, as the, fully human, beings that we actually are, with minds and hearts of our own, to make choices and decisions, about our lives, independently of whatever these men may want, with us, or from us. That mindset, is the same one that is behind acts of pedophilia, rape, domestic violence, murder, and, all, of the other forms, of abuse, of females!

Luckily, I had moved, to another apartment building, in the years since I had last encountered Don's wrath toward me, at the Backdoor Lounge. So, unless he followed me home after work, at The Twenties, he would not know where I lived now. I was very jumpy for quite awhile after this incident with him. This man was CLEARLY MENTALLY UNSTABLE, and had ATTACHED HIS VOLATILE AND VICIOUS EMOTIONS to ME, making me a Scapegoat to blame for all of his unhappiness in life, which actually had little of anything, at all, to do with me! I was SURE that he hadn't even known me long enough or well enough, for ME to TRULY be the cause of THAT MUCH RAGE AND ANGUISH. He had to have made, some sort of, TRANSFERENCE, onto me; making me his sex-object-scapegoat, for whatever he felt was wrong in his life. That Scapegoat Syndrome* had also happened to me with my own family starting when I was very young, and continuing into my adult life. It would happen to me again with my last husband, a club customer from the Backdoor Lounge, who then began to treat me this way that Don was: First, transference, and then, abuse; making me suffer, as their Scapegoat, for how this world, and their lives, had let them down, or failed them, in some way, with no thought or care, about how unfair, that was, to do, to me, and how frightening, their physical rage, aimed at me, was. Dancers in these clubs have even turned up dead, after being killed, by such men as these.**

I was also at risk of harm, or worse, from the Kansas City mafia***. Twice, even; in my dancer career! Along with my best friend, Neil; the first time, it happened. Neil was the sound guy, for one of the local bands, that was sometimes booked to perform, in the large main room of The Twenties nightclub, where I was dancing, on stage, in the back, in the, smaller, more intimate, feeling, Showgirl room. That was how that nightclub was set up at the time. I remember trying to tell my mother, on a phone call, that Neil and I could, very possibly, end up dead. Be found floating in the Missouri River at the hands of the mafia. Because, at the time it seemed a very real possibility. But, she just dismissed it, like she always did, with, virtually, everything else, I tried, to talk to her about, regarding my life. My narcissistic mother would, typically, do one, of two, things, whenever (against my better instincts, since I well knew how she was toward me)  I would continue trying to have an interactive relationship, with her, in spite of it all. She would either discredit me, or dismiss whatever it was, I was saying to her, as being of no concern, to her, for her to even try to hear me out, or show any care, concern, or compassion, toward me. The mafia involvement, during my dancer career, was luckily short-lived, though; and actually, they handled it really well, the FIRST time. Even kind of classy, considering how it could have gone otherwise. I both appreciated, and respected, that, coming from them. Their showing up in my life was actually related to another assault, on me, that also happened at The Twenties.

Dancers always say things, about other dancers, to other dancers. Especially, if the dancer is getting on their nerves for some reason, on any particular night. Usually, back in the dressing room, when a couple to a few of the girls would end up there at the same time, at some point during the evening. For some reason, which I have never been able to understand, about my life, though, co-workers of mine and others I've known have always held me, individually, to a higher standard than they even hold themselves; and have caused trouble for me, if I 'slip off' that imposed 'paragon of virtue' pedestal which they perched me up on, even ONCE, and say or do anything less than they expect of me. In fact, whenever I fail, to maintain that lofty pose, either accidentally or on purpose, because I'm human just like they are, the retribution toward me--- comparatively speaking--- is usually TWICE as SEVERE for my behaving only HALF as wrongly as THEY typically would, or do, behave THEMSELVES. These same people, that DO THIS, TO ME, know damn well that they don't live up to anything CLOSE to that standard that THEY have set for ME. That doesn't stop them, from doing it, though, which I have both really noticed, and deeply resented, in my life. So, one night, I came in the dressing room and ALL I said, was that I wish the new girl, Pam, would pay some attention to the ACTUAL BEAT of the songs, she was dancing to, so her MOVEMENTS, on stage, would at least line up, with THAT.  I admit, I felt resentful, toward her, because management had put me, personally, and directly, in charge of taking her under my wing, so to speak, and teaching her the business, when they hired her. So now, her progress or lack of it reflected on me in that way. But she was just very inept, as a dancer. Also, she did something, when she was off stage, that put all of our jobs in jeopardy, which had become maddening, to me, too; because, no matter what I said, about it, she continually allowed customers to touch her, when she was sitting at the tables, with them, in ways that could have gotten the liquor license pulled by the liquor commission and our club closed down by the cops and then the city, which would cost all of us our jobs and our money we made there. Still, despite how stressed Pam caused me to feel, about her presence there, the comment I made about her lack of rhythm was ALL that I said, though. All in all, it was the most innocuous observation ANY dancer had EVER been overheard to say about ANOTHER.

Even so, one of the dancers, that was in the dressing room, at the time, in this group of about four of us, Erin, who was also kind of the prankster, and, generally, the jerk, in this group, just couldn't wait to run tell Pam that Stevie said that about her. Whatever she told Pam about it--- which may, or may not, have been exaggerated, or even lied about, by her--- caused the girl's feelings to be hurt, so deeply, apparently, that she went to Faith, the bartender, in tears, about it; then actually left work, for the rest of the shift. No other dancer had ever done that before in similar circumstances. >sigh!< It was what it was, now. Faith, happened to be one of Mickey's original club dancers at 'Mickey's', his first Go Go bar, in downtown Omaha (which was where my husband Jim had taken me on one of our nights out several years earlier when I was very pregnant, with our son, Jay. I recalled seeing Faith dancing there, after I met her, later, at The Twenties, only I didn't actually know her, back when she danced). When she felt that she had aged out of dancing, she had started bartending for Mickey, instead (after he closed Mickey's downtown; although he still had the Razzle Dazzle in Council Bluffs, Iowa, and The Twenties, in Omaha). She still wasn't old, by any means, though. Faith was a well-built, and fairly pretty, woman. She was also, widely known, as being, "Mickey's girl". His favorite, who 'had his ear', and, most likely, at least one or two more of his body parts, than that, according to the gossip.

Faith was no saint, herself, to be sure. I hesitate to diverge too deeply, here, into any detailed description, of her, because the thing that I am trying to explain right now is how it came to be that I got onto the radar, of actual mafia members, who came after me, for a short time, which was extremely anxiety-producing for both me and Neil, who was only included because of his 'guilt by association', by the mafia, simply because HE was MY BEST FRIEND, back then. To give you some idea, of who Faith was, as a person, though, so you can see better, who I was dealing with in this situation, that developed between the two of us (over Pam, that Erin set in motion) I will give you one example of how Faith's mind computed decisions that she made--- one of which I became a victim of; in this instance I am telling you about, regarding the mafia: Faith had gotten pregnant by one of the men she slept with, and didn't want the baby. So, her solution to this problem was to keep snorting so much Cocaine, that she would cause herself to miscarry the baby, which is exactly what happened. She told me this herself; very casually, and without compunction. Before I ever even knew she had been pregnant, though, I used to see her, and her co-bartender, on the busy weekend nights, divide the Cocaine into two lines, right out in the open, on the back counter of the bar, and bend over and quickly snort that into their nostrils. I even saw Denny, Mickey's manager at The Twenties, do a line with them once. One night, he was screaming, at them, after the club closed, accusing them both, of being so high, that they were barely functioning in their bartending duties. I recall wondering, as I went, from the ladies room, to the dressing room, to get dressed to go home, that night, and walked past them, while they all three slurred and snarled at one another, behind the bar, why people describe doing drugs as getting a great high that feels really good, to them, when these three, who did drugs, all, sounded so angry, and unhappy, while under the influence, of the Cocaine.

So, this same Faith, had now turned on me, because of that one comment I had made, in the dressing room, about Pam's lack of rhythm, when she danced; which Erin repeated. Because Pam got her feelings hurt, and cried, when Erin told her whatever she told her, that I had said, about moving her body to the actual beat of the songs she danced to, on stage, Faith had put me into the BITCH category now (even though she was one herself) which in her mind meant that some kind of repercussions needed to be dealt out to me according to the 'Street Justice' mentality, that bar folks often adhered to, due to their skewed moral sensibilities. Out of all the dancer comments I EVER heard MADE about one dancer by another dancer, that was on the negative, critical, side, my comment was MUCH GENTLER than ANY or ALL, of those others! There wasn't even any NAME CALLING in it. Still, the new girl, Pam, had cried to Faith about it, and then left work early that night, with most of the shift still to go, in a pity party pout about it. So, now, Faith was determined to deal with me, on Pam's behalf. Near the end of the night, during the last song, I decided to go to the ladies room. I recall, that I didn't really have to pee, that badly, but for some reason, I just decided to still go ahead and do it. I felt vaguely uneasy, simply from knowing Faith was not speaking to me anymore, when we had always conversed together, prior to this, current, situation regarding Pam. I couldn't get a feel for whatever it was that was coming, from that, although I sensed that something surely was. I had seen how this stuff went down, in these bars. Pam wasn't there, to settle it with, and I didn't really think I had done anything really wrong. I had made one accurate observation about Pam's complete lack of rhythm. It wasn't even a criticism as much as it was just an honest observation that anyone in the Showgirl room of The Twenties might well have made, about her. Yes, I said it, out loud, to other girls, in the dressing room. Just like other comments had been made about every one of us, in there, at times. But MINE, about Pam, was as TAME, a comment, as any dancer had ever made, about another, including what was said to, and about, me, when I was the new girl and learning the ropes at the Razzle. I had also spent several weeks, by that point, personally doing everything, that I could, to help Pam learn and adjust to the business, because Mickey's mother, Angie, had tasked me with that direct responsibility when Pam was hired. No one else. Just ME. Now, ONE statement, about her lack of beat-keeping movements, on stage, and ALL that was, completely, ignored by her, and Faith. I was some BITCH, now, to be dealt with for it.

The ladies room in the Showgirl was right off the room where the stage was. It was very small, and only had one toilet and sink, so we tended not to lock the door, because other girls, many of whom were drunk, would just start pounding on it trying to get in, even though they couldn't even use the toilet while someone else was still sitting on it. They would, usually, just stand by the sink, and chat about how the night was going. I had just gone in, and was starting to cover the toilet seat with paper, to prepare to sit on it, when I heard the door open behind me. I said, "You can go first if you have to go badly!", to whoever it was, that had just come in there, right after I did, but there was no answer from them, so I turned and looked behind me, to see who  it was. It was Faith. We had always gotten along before this incident with Pam and I had been blown up into something way out of proportion, by Erin, who was always the one that seemed friendly enough to your face, but in reality was often just looking for some way to start trouble, just because, she was bored, and drama really amused her. Because Pam had cried, about it, Faith had made it clear, that she was mad at me, for that, although I had hoped she would get past it because what I had said was critique, more than criticism. But she didn't. She'd walked in to the ladies room right behind me, after she had apparently been watching and waiting, for this moment with me, when she could come out, from behind the bar, and confront me one on one. We were all alone in this room, just the two of us, with the extremely loud music booming just outside the door. The door, that she was blocking, now, when she grabbed me by the hair and slammed my head down toward the toilet first. I managed to 'keep my head above water', as they say, so she then tried to hit my head against the wall. All I could think of was, DO NOT FIGHT BACK! DO NOT HIT HER, OR LEAVE A MARK, ON HER! PRAY THAT SHE DOESN'T CUT, OR BRUISE, HER HAND, AS SHE BEATS THE CRAP OUT, OF YOU, BECAUSE THIS HAS NO WITNESSES! SHE, COULD SAY THAT YOU, STARTED IT, WITH HER! THIS--- IS-- MICKEY'S--- GIRL!!! DO NOT TOUCH HER, AT ALL, IN  FEAR  OF  YOUR  LIFE! So, as she then began punching me in the gut, I still did not do one thing, to fight back. I didn't even cry. I just took the beating, from her, as best I could, knowing that, because, it was Faith, and I also worked for Mickey, I really had no choice. Dancers, got into 'slap downs', with one another, at times, in these clubs, and there were even some physical attacks on one another, every once in a while, especially where egos, drinking, and drugs were involved, but it was almost always at least a fair fight, where they both, threw their punches, and had their say, and that was that. But, THIS, was NOT THAT! THIS was FAITH--- 'MICKEY'S GIRL'! So I DARE NOT touch her!

It had long been rumored, that Mickey not only had mob connections, but that he had actually murdered his own wife to get himself free of his marital relationship and responsibilities, when he stopped coaching, kids' sports, and got into the Go Go bar business. I had even heard that he had promised his son alot of money, to take the fall, for the murder of his mother, and go to prison, in his father's place. How much of that was TRUE, of those whispers that I had always heard, about Mickey, I had NO IDEA. But, I wasn't going to risk harming 'Mickey's Girl' in ANY way, especially because of those rumors, and because I worked for him, too. So, I stood, and took it, as Faith beat the crap out of me, in the ladies room, that night, until I finally sank to the floor, so beaten up by her that I thought I would pass out, from the pain. Once I went down, to the floor, she started kicking me, with her sharp, pointy, high-heeled shoes. Again, and, again, and, again. She kicked me in the abdomen, and finally, in the teeth. After saying to me, with a self-satisfied sneer, "That is for PAM", she left me, lying on the bathroom floor, and went back out. Struggling to get onto my knees, I weakly pushed the ladies room door open, and the first face I saw was Erin's, who had caused the situation, and this beating by Faith, that I just took, by running to tell Pam, what I'd said, about her needing to try to focus on the beat of the song, when she danced--- or perhaps, even something, way worse, sounding, that she embellished, for effect--- making Pam cry, which made Faith come after me. As our eyes met, Erin saw me kneeling, on the floor, with blood coming from my nose, and mouth, and barely the strength in me to push open the door, as I said, weakly, to her, "Help me!", but she just stayed where she was, sitting at a table, with a smug smile on her face when she saw me. She might have even chosen that spot to sit in to have a ringside seat, to what Faith went into the ladies room to do to me. Even so, believe it or not, Erin was never an enemy to me, personally, in any way. She just didn't give a damn, about anyone else, and she loved to stir up drama, any time, any way, and with anyone, that she could; just to watch the crap that unfolded, from that, and know that she had instigated it all. She genuinely enjoyed doing that! It made her day. Some people, are like that. I have NO idea WHY; what makes them like that. Perhaps Erin was a narcissist. God knows, I seem to get victimized by those, in my life. The bottom line though, with her, was that SHE JUST LIKED TO START TROUBLE. Whether that was from her own insecurities, or from her just being a bitch, or whatever, I can't say, for sure. She just did that. Whenever she could. She once tried to pull a long wig, I wore one night, right off my head just before I was going up on stage to dance, as she sat at a nearby table with some guy, behind where I was standing. I heard her say, to him, "Watch this!", and then I felt a hard tug, on my wig. Luckily, I had pinned it securely to my hair so that it didn't budge. Erin was simply an opportunistic JERK. If she saw a chance to trip someone, ANYONE, just to cause them to fall, she was that kind of person, for whatever reason. And now, because of that, I was left to slowly struggle, to pull myself up from off the floor; badly beaten, and bloody, and she was thrilled, she had created this much drama.

[NOTE: This, August, post is Part One of a Two Part post that I have written for this blog on this specific subject matter, about the dangers of being a dancer. This post is twenty paragraphs long, and I have an equal number of paragraphs for the post next month, in September, in order to fully finish covering this one particular aspect of my dancer experience. By no means have I--- even yet, after several posts, now--- covered all there is for me to say and share, here, about those years that I worked in the nightclubs, and how that career affected my life! Therefore, I will continue on with this, in the next post. Thank you, for taking this journey, with me, through my life and all its memorable experiences. I am glad you are here with me! Please feel free to Comment under any posts that you may wish to. I would love to know your thoughts, or about some of your experiences, that may be similar, or even different. I have readers in 33 countries now, and as I see you are reading what I have written about my life, here in my blog, I often wonder what your lives have been like. Especially, during this worldwide pandemic that is affecting all of us on this Earth. God bless you! - Love, Deb]

* Scapegoating is the practice of singling out a person or group for unmerited blame and consequent negative treatment.

** This is just one example, from many, sadly, of what I am referring to: "Lakewood man charged with killing strip club dancer found dead in motel bathroom - Investigators first considered Hector’s death suspicious, but an initial autopsy couldn’t determine the cause of her death. The medical examiner found faint abrasions on her neck, but couldn’t confirm if she had been strangled. There were no signs of a struggle and Hector was found naked, according to the autopsy report. Later tests confirm that she had been strangled."  https://www.denverpost.com/2019/04/24/lakewood-homicide-strip-club/

*** Kansas City Crime Family:
Founding location Kansas City, Missouri, United States
Years active 1912–present
Territory Kansas City metropolitan area and the entire states of Missouri, and Nebraska, as well as Las Vegas, Los Angeles, Oklahoma and Washington, D.C.
The Kansas City mob still has some gambling and loansharking with some extortion involving drugs and the strip club industry'  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kansas_City_crime_family