The Boy From Brooklyn That I Married . . .

The boy from Brooklyn that I married was a club customer. There are reasons why I refer to him as a boy. We met in a bar, that I worked in, at the time, as a dancer. During my years working in these nightclubs I, occasionally, started to feel burned out, by the bullshit involved in this business. If it became too much for me to deal with, in one nightclub, for whatever reason, I would go work in a different one, for a while. Another way, that I dealt with that, was by leaving Omaha altogether and going somewhere completely new, to be a live-in nanny. I always chose to do that job in some other state, just for a change of scenery, and, some interesting travel opportunities. The third way I dealt with my needing a break from the job, was to accept one of the many marriage offers, that, for whatever reason, I have always had more than my fair share of, in my life, and leave the bar business behind me, with the hope--- however faint, that was--- that the (at least, legally,) committed relationship would gain some traction, and actually develop into something, really worthwhile, for a change. By this point, in my life, my experience with both, men, and, marriage, had caused me to set the bar fairly low, as far as my expectations regarding either one, so I was never all that optimistic about it, just based on the facts, as they were, going into these marriages of mine. It's sad, to say, but true.

I was working at the Backdoor Lounge, again, at this point in time, after recently returning to Omaha from being a live-in nanny in Bridgeport, Connecticut, to two little girls who were not yet school age. Their stressed-out single mother made it very uncomfortable, for me. She also required me to cook Jewish meals, which I was not at all familiar with. Cooking had not been part of my nanny job in Miami for the Jewish family there. This was my second nanny job as well as my second time working for a Jewish family. That did not have anything to do with why this job didn't work out though. It was just too tense, there, all the time. She was in the middle of renovating her house. When I arrived there wasn't even a working bathtub. I had to wash up at the sink the best I could, for several days. I was on my period, so it was distressing, to not be able to clean my body really well. She finally drove us all over to her wealthy parents' condo, in Southport, to use their luxurious bathroom. As the water cascaded down over my body, when it was my turn to bathe, I started sobbing, in the shower, just from all the pent up stress, I felt, from the entire situation. The younger of the two girls I cared for was still in diapers. Her mother would change her diaper, in a rush, to get out the door, with the girls, on my day off, and I would find the dirty diaper, just left sitting, smelly, on the upholstered couch, that I had planned to try to sit, and relax, on. Being a very clean, and conscientious, person, this habit of hers, literally, did not sit well with me. There was no internet, back then. Young women were hired as nannies by answering ads, placed in newspapers, by the agencies. Then, they mailed out paperwork to fill out, and the rest was all done over the phone. I was placed into these, domestic caregiver, positions through phone interviews, sight unseen, and there is just no way to gauge relationship chemistry between the employer and I that way. The closest thing I had to having any 'fun', there, was my taking a CPR refresher class, on my own initiative; and the woman that I worked for drove me to New Haven, to see Yale University, from inside the car, for 5 minutes, one day. That was it, except for us going to the beach in Southport once, with her parents.

It was always nice to know that when I left town on these capricious adventures I could easily get another dancer gig, as soon, as I returned, if the nanny job didn't turn out as well as I hoped that it would. Usually, with a simple phone call, to one of these nightclubs, telling the manager I was back in town, and wanted to dance there again. Either that way, or showing up, I always got hired on the spot. When  I got back, to Omaha, this time, I wanted to live in a newly remodeled apartment building, which was about a half-mile from the Backdoor; so I chose it to work in, then. Because I had just started working again, the club manager, Dick McGinnis, called up the landlord of that apartment building I wanted to live in, and paid my deposit and rent for the first month so I could move in! Then, he just deducted it from my paychecks. He intervened this way, in my living situation, because I was staying temporarily with a male employee, of the Smoke Pit Restaurant, in which the Backdoor Lounge was also located; in one of two apartments that were in the building. The owners, of all of it, Joe, and his wife, Kim, lived in the other one for awhile until they moved into a large house when they started a family. I had told Bill, whom I was staying with, that I would NOT have sex with him, when he had offered for me to stay there until I saved the money to move into that apartment that I wanted; but, of course, every single night he kept trying to get me to, so it was not going very well at all, with my staying with him, for even that short time.

>Sigh!< There is that saying, "Be careful what you wish for." The apartment that  I wanted, and got, was nice! THAT worked out well, for me. But, as a dancer who had to put up with so many men that I sat with, in the nightclubs, propositioning me for sex, in one way or another, night after night, I often longed to meet a guy who DIDN'T do that, to me, for a change. As it turned out, Tom, who became my third husband, was that guy. I'm really not sure why he was like that, but I could barely ever get him interested in anything sexual, with me! Believe it or not, Tom and I only had (very fast and poor quality) sex a handful of times, over the entire course of our relationship; and yet, I married him--- not just once, but--- TWICE!  I almost chuckle to myself, about the irony of that, as I think back on it, now. My life has certainly not been normal in alot of ways. What are the odds that I would meet a guy in a meat market* like a Go Go bar who was basically uninterested in being sexual--- at least with me. I have no idea how he was with anyone else. He was ALL BOY. There was NO manhood in him. He'd had a traumatic childhood too, though, that seemed to stop his emotional development, at around the age of 11. He showed passion, but, only toward his comic book collection, and video games. Because of that, and due to other things, as well, I had much more of a maternal relationship with him although it wasn't what I wanted or needed with a husband. In a way, it worked, for me, though; only in the sense that, I felt fulfilled, being a caregiver to someone who needed me. Tom didn't often act like it, but he, clearly, needed me. None, of my needs, were ever really met in this relationship, though, making it unsustainable. He acted like a rebellious, pre-teen, boy, toward me. So, I was in a thankless position, with him, relationally. Tom took. But, he didn't give.

Women are built to need heroes. Our very soul requires them for its nourishment. Not only did Tom NOT be that for me, when HE came into my life, virtually no one before him had either. It was just more of what I almost always got from the men in my life. I was destined to be disappointed, especially, romantically, by believing --- or at least hoping--- that they would be My Hero; because they weren't. It was just more of the same--- males, I allowed into my life, being TAKERS, and USERS. I wanted to, both, love, and be loved. Since that is true, there are, obviously, very compelling reasons why, after my experiences, with men in my life, I've chosen to remain, not just single, but celibate, and romantically uninvolved, for more than 3 decades now. I certainly have no desire to ever be married again. My assessment, of men, is that (1) they are far more trouble than they're worth and (2) they take alot more than they give in a relationship, which is very draining, to me. I end up broken hearted, used up, worn out, and with nothing at all to show for my trouble but loss and heartbreak. I feel like I'm consumed by them, as if I'm nothing more than an expendable commodity, and tossed aside once they've emptied me of my energy and efforts, that I invested toward them in my attempt to have a mutually satisfying relationship. I cannot think of one single time, that I came out, of these relationships, better off, in any way; except, that I was rid of the man involved. It was still surprising, to me, exactly how thoughtless, Tom was, toward me, though.

When I walked up to Tom, in the Backdoor Lounge, to ask if I could join him at his table, I was simply doing my job--- trying to make my required drink quota for my shift, while offering my conversational company to a club customer. He was, just a guy in the bar, who didn't stand out to me, in any way. He seemed shy, though, or at least, awkward. I do not recall what we even talked about. This was not 'love at first sight', by any means! Tom was a 50/50 cross, between his father, who was an Irishman, and his mother, who was of some Latin/Hispanic background, so, he had the long torso, and short legs, of his father, but, his coloring, was from his mother, giving him, black hair, brown eyes, and a light-brown skin tone. He had the accent of a boy from Brooklyn, New York. But, he also sounded almost like he lisped, just a bit, or had some kind of a 'baby voice'. He'd come in there to see some, specific, dancer, as I recall, that either, no longer worked there, or, was otherwise occupied, with another customer, although, I had never noticed him, in there, before, myself. I have to admit that what got my attention was that he was in the Air Force. I had actually loved being in the military, and felt that I was robbed of that lifestyle, due to the wrongful sexual assertions of a, married, Air Force officer, who happened to be my commander, at the time. So, I was drawn to those who were still privileged to serve. That made Tom much more interesting, to me, than he would have been, otherwise. He was a sergeant. His specialized training was as a weather forecaster.

He came across as a really nice guy. Probably, because, he never once came on to me sexually. It would never have occurred to me that this wasn't simply him being gentlemanly, toward me, as much as it was, the beginning, of the signs, of, either, his sexual dysfunction, or his disinterest, in me, in that way, or, both. I don't think he was gay, although I'm really not sure. As things unfolded it became abundantly clear that he had some real misogynistic tendencies toward women other than his mother and little sister. With them he was always extremely loving, protective and loyal. All the things that I needed him to be with me, as well, that he never was. I recall he was raised Catholic, and he seemed to have very black-and-white beliefs, about females, that divided, my gender, into madonnas or whores. It seemed that there was no in-between, in his mind. Looking back over any or all of my romantic relationships with men, I see clearly in hindsight that Red Flags abounded to warn me away from the relationship with them. I still had that toxic poison, in me, from the Disney-movies-upbringing, though, that, clouded the clarity, of my vision, and thoughts, at the time, with the muddled message, from those fantasies, that 'Love would conquer all', and that by giving my love to someone, I would be guaranteed a 'Happily Ever After!' outcome. At least, at some point, along the way . . . ? After two previous marriages--- and divorces--- already behind me surely it must be my turn, I told myself. My lifestyle, as a dancer, offered me everything, but love. Love still eluded me. Guys constantly told me they wanted me. Sexually. I wanted love! 

I did not date Tom very long. I felt like he was a nice enough guy, and that I could build something good with him. As I said, my expectations were fairly low, by this point in my life, both for men, and for marriage. Tom had not approached me in a sexual way, prior to marriage. I was not used to that, from a guy, but at the time, I thought it must be due to his convictions. I felt respected by him. It wouldn't be long before I found out how little he actually did respect me. Somewhere down in my subconscious, though, I was either registering some of those Red Flags, that I somehow sensed about him, or else, something in me was whispering to my soul, "You shouldn't settle. You deserve better than just making do** with a marriage." My life experiences had all converged to convince me otherwise, however. So, the wedding took place, even though, I almost did not go through with it. Tom was to meet me at my apartment, and then, go over to the courthouse, with me, for our wedding before a judge. Nothing fancy or even romantic, at all, really. He ran late though. Late enough, that I started thinking he was a No Show, which caused me to reassess why I would even want to go ahead, with this, anyway, if he did show up. There were no cell phones back then, so we couldn't just call one another. He brought a young couple he was friends with, from the Baptist church he attended near the military base, to be our witnesses. By the time they finally arrived, I had seriously Cold Feet, and, after getting as far as the courthouse, I retreated, into a Ladies Restroom, there, in a panic, hyperventilating slightly and really feeling like  I did not want to go through with it! I had already quit my dancer job for this, but I could easily go back to it, I told myself, as I stood there looking in the mirror, at the fear on my face. The young woman of the couple came in there after me, and talked me into it. I should have just left. I didn't even know her. I never even saw her again, after that day. My upbringing had taught me not to have a voice of my own, though. Not to stand up for myself; for what I needed. So, I always second-guessed myself, especially in times of uncertainty and pressure. So Tom and I got married. There were no Wedding Bells, and no firecrackers, romantically speaking. 

There wasn't a honeymoon, meaning that we didn't go anywhere, nor did we start having sex. I had never had to work hard to make a man want me. Men were just men. If anything, they wanted all the sex they could get! Not Tom. A clock was by the bed which had a second hand, and it was in my line of sight, when we were in bed. The few times that I finally coaxed Tom into having sex with me I saw that it never lasted more than about a minute, at the most. I sighed, to myself, that, the "Minute Waltz"*** could be our 'lovemaking' Theme Song. I didn't nag him, about it, though, even though I did not understand it, and it felt like a rejection, by him. After all, I was used to being completely celibate. Even, for years, at a time. Even while I was a dancer, and men were propositioning me, for sex, on a nightly basis. My core values were conservative ones, and I was a Rape Trauma Survivor, so my having sex that wasn't based on a love relationship never felt right to me, or even seemed worth it, to do. Also, I have always been very medically squeamish which included my not wanting to catch anything, from anyone, which might need to be treated, such as with a shot, or even worse, couldn't be treated, and had no cure. I didn't even want to catch a cold sore from kissing anybody! Lots of things could be transmitted during sexual acts. It had been love that I had always wanted, if I had to choose between the two things. The trouble was, I did not end up feeling I was loved, or desired, by Tom. Just used. But, not the ways that men typically do that, to females. I felt like, I was only wanted as a Mother Substitute, for this boy, that I was now married to. Not a boy in age, but in maturity level. I loved being a caregiver and nurturing my loved one. But, I did not sign a Marriage Certificate to adopt Tom, as my child! Which is, basically, what he was, and acted like, with me. 

In or out of bed, Tom proved to be a disappointment, in every way. He moved into my apartment, with me, when we married. So, he had a friend from work and I go with him to his old apartment, to get his things from there. When we arrived, Tom ran up the stairs, ahead of us. I thought, he had just gone to unlock the door. But, not long after we were inside, starting to gather up his things, I noticed there was a crumpled piece of paper which had been wadded up, lying on the floor. Picking it up, to see what it was, I realized that it was an Eviction Notice, for nonpayment of rent, which Tom's landlord had posted on his apartment door because his rent was delinquent. Tom hadn't mentioned anything, about that, to me. Clearly, he knew it was waiting for him there, when he'd hurried up the stairs ahead of us, apparently to tear it off of the door and quickly toss it aside, hoping I would not see it. It was very concerning, to me, on many levels; not the least of which was my wondering if this guy had married me simply to be able to move into my apartment, with me, because he knew he was going to be evicted from his own due to irresponsibility. I continued to ponder this possibility, to myself, while packing up more of his things. Not long after we got there, he asked his friend, Mark, to come with him, to check out the comic book store, that was just down the block from there. They ended up being gone quite a while, leaving me there, all alone, to continue packing, for him. Mark told me, later, that he had told Tom, when they went over to the store for so long, that I was likely feeling pretty taken advantage of, by him taking off, leaving me to do all his packing, for him. He said that Tom looked completely surprised by that comment, and shrugged it off, assuring him that I was not feeling like that, at all, when, in reality, that was EXACTLY how I was left feeling. Mark, was a married man, who understood, the give and take, honesty, and mutual cooperation, which were necessary for a good marriage. Tom had absolutely NO idea, of how, to be a HUSBAND. He did not even know how to be a GROWN MAN. Tom, thought of Tom.

Tom kept buying, what became, stacks and stacks of comic books, including those he considered to be collectibles. Letting his bills go unpaid, and his responsibilities go unmet. They were his pride and joy. He loved them, so much, that I'm amazed he didn't masturbate on their pages. THEY HAD HIS HEART, NOT ME. Also, we put in a Change Of Address card for his mail to start coming to my apartment address from his old address. The day his forwarded mail began to arrive, I grew alarmed, then angry, as I saw what was being mailed to him! It was a stack of Late Notices, Overdue Bills, Unpaid Bills, and threatening legal letters from businesses he owed money to. Now that I was his spouse, these bills were also MY legal responsibility, although I hadn't known anything at all about them! Tom had not told me a thing, about any of this mess he had made of his finances and his credit standing. When he came home from the base that day, I had him sit down and write letters telling every one of those creditors that he was going to pay them all he owed them and when they could expect that money from him. With, an APOLOGY, to them, for his deliberate dodging of his responsibility, toward their good faith provision, of goods and services to him. I worked out a budget, and we stuck to it, getting him out of that debt, and, started a Savings cushion. Something he did not even have. I was upset that I was LEGALLY LIABLE for his bills, and told him he needed to never do that, again, to his creditors, or to me. At one point, in all the issues I encountered as I tried to help rehabilitate Tom, from being an irresponsible child to a grown up (unsuccessfully, when all was said and done), I had a phone conversation with his First Sergeant, at the military base. He thanked me, for what I was doing, to help Tom, telling me that HE had disciplined Tom twice, already, for the SAME financial irresponsibility, and, that the Air Force would NOT have done that, for him, again, THIS time (that I was doing it), but would have finally DISCHARGED HIM FOR IT! Military members are held to certain standards of conduct, and Tom, was, clearly, not meeting those. So, I also saved his military CAREER; which he enjoyed doing.

Tom did not show me any gratitude, for any, of that, though. Instead, he resented me for requiring adult discipline from him, now. He had a classic case of Peter Pan Syndrome****. Since, he did not want, to act responsibly, he angered easily, and rebelled, seemingly against me, his 'Mom' figure, however unspoken that was. He moved out, then he wanted to be taken care of, again, and wanted to come back, then, he moved out, again, then, came back, again, then, moved out, again . . . . His friend, Mark, knew he was acting like a silly child pitching tantrums and would say as much to me. Apologizing, on Tom's, unrepentant, behalf, for what Tom was putting me through, with all this, whenever Tom enlisted Mark's help, to come get his TV and video games, et cetera, out of my apartment, during some of his move outs. There was so much, in, and out, activity, with Tom, there, that, at one point, the landlord asked me to clarify exactly what was going on, with all that back and forth. It was frustrating, and humiliating, for me. >sigh< I knew the Air Force was sick of it, with him, and was about to discharge him, for his crap, when he latched onto me, and I got it straightened out before another creditor of his complained to the military authorities and Tom got kicked out of the service. He clearly could not do it on his own. Even as much of a disappointment, to me, that Tom was, I sadly had not come across anyone any better, to invest my time, and talents, in. I liked feeling needed, and he certainly needed me. But he also rebelled against my help, and, even against his needing me, rejecting me, in the process of that, due to his resenting he needed me; placing me constantly in a thankless situation, with him.

I had Tom on a budget, but, he still had full access to his own money. I love trying to buy the perfect gift for my loved ones based on who they are. So, as Christmas approached, I bought several nice presents for Tom. His favorite was the Nintendo gaming system. He excitedly connected it to his TV, early Christmas morning, and when, I finally gave up, on expecting any Thank You, or companionship, from him, that long day and went to sleep, finally, late at night, he was still playing it, sitting on the floor, with his back, up against the bed, that I was in. He was consumed by the video games, that I had gotten him. I, had spent almost all day, looking at the back of his head. He had shown me nothing but a complete self-centeredness, our entire relationship, really. But, even so, I admit, that I was, actually, shocked, and frankly hurt, when that Christmas Day arrived and not only because I was his wife but because of all that I had done, for him, I did expect, some kind of a Christmas gift from him . . . and there was NONE. NOTHING. NOT EVEN ONE SINGLE THING. I felt devastated. HOW, could he NOT, even THINK, to get me, even a small box of candy? Something. ANYTHING! It was so inconsiderate of him, that it was actually appalling, to me. I could not BELIEVE that I even had to educate this BOY on how he needs to buy a Christmas gift for his own wife! As a COURTESY, if nothing else. 

When the post-Holiday sales began, just after that, I informed him that he WAS to take me to the mall, and that he WAS going to buy me some Christmas gifts, and, he did. But, it was never HIS idea or intention, to do that, for me, AT ALL. I had to TELL him to. A similar thing happened on my birthday. Whenever he moved out of my apartment, that I had lived in before we married, he would stay on base in the barracks. Dorm 324, actually. The very same one that I had stayed in, while I was stationed at Offutt, when I was in the Air Force. A co-ed dorm, with separate male and female wings. Someone, gave me a single red rose, that day, for my birthday, and because I was going through so much, with Tom. So, I had it with me, when I decided to spend the day going to visit Tom, at the dorm on base, to see if he was happier there, since he kept on, moving into it, from our apartment. He simply sat sulking, on the bed, refusing to make eye contact with me, or talk to me; so I left. But, I left the rose, for him, because, he did not seem to be all that happy, staying there, either. Tom always made things about himself. He knew, it was my birthday, that day, and couldn't even say 'Happy Birthday' to me. Nothing. I never really got anything from him on his own initiative that was affectionate, or affirming. It hurt.

Then he got orders to go to South Korea for a year on a Remote Duty Assignment. Many military wives dread hearing that news, because we heard the stories, about how even the chaplains, which were stationed over there, would get themselves a yobo*****, for that time, while they were away, from their wives, who were back in the States. In plain terms, these men, whether, married or not, religious or not, would avail themselves, of the all-too-eager-to-please Korean women, who would both serve the men, and service the men sexually, while they were there--- often hoping to become a bride, to the man, and be brought to the States, to enjoy the American lifestyle. Tom would be the last guy to ever do that, I thought to myself, since, he never even wanted sex, with his own wife! One day, a couple of months, or so, after he was gone, to Korea, I was trying to withdraw funds to pay my rent from his checking account, and was told that he had closed the account. Now, my rent was due, and I suddenly found myself without access to any money at all; to pay that or anything else! Tom had not said anything to me about him doing that. He just did it. However, military members are required to provide support to their dependents, and are even allotted more money in their paychecks, once they are married, specifically for this reason. I called the base he was at in Korea because of the urgency, of the situation, and was told that he was not in on that shift, but would be in later. Then his co-worker who answered the phone when I called told me that he thought I should know that Tom was living with his yobo; that he had one of those. My heart just sank. HOW, could TOM, of all people, have a YOBO?!?  I was devastated; again. When I called back later, and got Tom on the phone, he admitted it. MY husband, who wouldn't sleep with ME, had gone to Korea, and in shockingly short order had, basically, gotten himself a, sexual, slave, to meet his every desire (if he actually HAD any desires, which was UNPROVEN, as far as MY experience with him). He even told me, quite matter-of-factly, that he struck the young Korean woman, at times, if she didn't please him. He said they met when she sat down with him, in a bar or somewhere, and had tapped her finger on his wedding ring, asking him if he were married. I didn't know what to think, but we got divorced. One, of my pet peeves, about men, especially if they're married, is that they don't hesitate to do things that, if it were reversed, and their WIFE was doing those very same things, they couldn't handle it. Yet they expect US to just ACCEPT that behavior, from THEM. NOT ME! I don't, and, I won't. Good riddance.

I was so hurt, so mad, so disillusioned, so fed up by that point that I called up the First Sergeant, of the main Air Force weather command, Global Weather, at Offutt, who had once thanked me, for saving Tom's career, and told him, that my military husband had closed the bank account without warning or explanation and left me, his legal spouse, with no support, which is not allowed by the military. These men are required to act responsibly toward their dependents. He contacted the Remote Unit, in Korea, and told Tom, that he must provide a percentage of his pay, for my financial support, and he saw to it, that Tom arranged for that, in a legally binding agreement which would remain in effect for the year that it took for our divorce to be final when I'd relinquish my dependent ID. Then I moved right across from the Air Force base, so that I could spend the entire year, that a Nebraska divorce took to complete, living like a single woman, that whole time. I still had my dependent ID to go onto the base, so I used it, to go shopping, go to a Bible study/book club at the chapel, go to the library, and movie theater, on base, and, even to the NCO club, to go dancing. I had a blast! I never had sex with any of the men, but being around the base, ALONE, as a FEMALE, meant that I wasn't EVER lonely for MALE companionship, AT ALL. I did not wear my wedding ring, anymore, and I was in a divorce. I decided to have Play Time, for a change, because being committed to a male--- especially in marriage--- had NEVER PAID OFF for ME. I didn't even really have to flirt. Men just landed at my feet wherever I went on that base. It was like that disco era song (I LOVE DISCO!), 'It's Rainin' Men'******! One day, I actually had two different guys, that I was seeing, happen to come over to my apartment, at the very same time, to ask me out for that evening, and they started yelling at each other, outside my door! Arguing about, which, of them was going to take me out! I shook my head, and smiled, at that, and I let them work it out, themselves, because, I had been going out with both of them and, several, other men as well!

I did not even need to keep any food in my apartment across from the base, for 6 months straight, because I was asked out to eat so often, that I never missed any meals! All of this male attention, was feeding my soul, and rejuvenating my spirit, after Tom had treated me so badly; using me, rejecting me, and then abandoning me. I was dating an Intelligence Officer on the Looking Glass; a MSgt that worked and traveled with the IG team; and I even had a brief, romantic, relationship with Tom's former First Sergeant, who happened to be divorced himself. After meeting me in person, he could not understand, how on Earth, Tom had not responded, to this sexy wife, he had, in me. We got as far as his bed, before his ethics kicked in along with his hard on, and, Mike said, that, since Tom could be returning, to that unit, here, at Offutt, after the year in Korea, that he thought it was too much of a conflict of interest, to bed me--- although I was naked, in his bed, when he made that--- correct and understandable--- decision. So, I ALMOST had sex ONCE, that whole year. The rest of the time, I just dated lots of different guys, going dancing, bowling, eating out, including at the Officer, and NCO, clubs, and having a REALLY GOOD TIME. When the year was ending, and the divorce was final, I took a nanny job near Poughkeepsie, New York, in Wappingers Falls, working for a single father, who had custody of his 4 daughters including a pair of twins, from elementary, to high school ages, but I will cover that in another blog post specifically about that.

This post covered the gist of my first marriage to Tom who was my third husband. Amazingly, I gave him a second chance, a year or so, later, I think it was, and we got married, a second time. But, I will cover that in a separate post, because this post is already fairly long. I did finally learn my lesson, but it wasn't soon enough to avoid repeating my mistake, where Tom, was concerned. So, I made it TWICE!

* meat market: a meeting place such as a bar or nightclub for people seeking sexual encounters.

** What is the meaning of make do? To cope with something even though the circumstances are not ideal. To live with the insufficient or unsatisfactory resources available.

*** The "Minute Waltz" is the nickname for the Waltz in D flat major, Op. 64, No. 1 by Frederic Chopin. A typical performance of the work will last between ​1 1⁄2 and ​2 1⁄2 minutes.

**** Peter Pan Syndrome is when an adult doesn't want to take responsibility and mature. It is most often seen in, and is usually associated with, males. These are people who do not want to, or feel unable to, grow up, and therefore behave more like a child than a grown-up. An excellent article, explaining this syndrome, which was written by Crystal Raypole, can be found at the following link: https://www.healthline.com/health/peter-pan-syndrome. I saw Tom's behaviors described very accurately, in what this article explains about it.

***** yobo - means honey, sweetheart, darling, in Korean. "yobo" is a term Korean spouses call each other. Yobo is also what a woman is called who does household and sexual tasks for U.S. military men stationed in Korea.

****** Video of the disco era song, 'It's Rainin' Men': https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xfmZRiePkEM

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).

Now, Is Another, Dark Night, For My Soul

I am sitting here right now, on the morning of the day that I publish my post online each month, staring at the blank computer screen, that is waiting, with blinking cursor, for me to express my thoughts here. I have begun this month's post half a dozen times already on as many different subjects from my life story, before this one, that I am typing now. With some of them, I couldn't even get past a couple of sentences for one reason or another. It just didn't seem that this was the time, to share that particular part, of what life has been like for me. It felt like I was mired in mud, and, even sinking, at times, in the emotional quagmire; unable, to get any traction, to pull my thoughts together, on the subject, at hand, or be able to pull the post out of the ditch, it was in, to be properly prepared for publication in my blog. I just pulled up Facebook, on another tab on my computer, to find a photograph that I saw on there yesterday, to share with you here. As the website came up, the first thing I saw was a post of someone's that simply said "God is the only reason I made it this far. I'm blessed." For me, just seeing that this morning is another one of those small, but meaningful, both personal and poignant, things, that happen along the way, in life, which Squire Rushnell describes, in his books, as God Winks*, since THIS is something that I say to God, and about God, continually; because it is true. It is absolutely true. >sigh!<  I have experienced these moments along the way in life, but it wasn't until a friend at my church in Wilmington, North Carolina gave me a small book with a big impact, When God Winks: How The Power Of Coincidence Guides Your Life, that I had something, to call those little moments, that somehow, vaguely, and at times, specifically, appear to be signposts, along the road of my pilgrimage** on this planet. I included a link at the end of this post to a Preview of the book, so you can actually read some of it for yourself, to see what I mean, about it, firsthand.  I consider it a MUST READ, for anyone and everyone, that is trying to navigate their way through this life, in all its uncertainties, with some sense of a Plan and a Purpose being woven into the fabric of our experiences, along the way. It can bring comfort, when the journey seems dark, or chaotic. 

That is definitely how my life feels, to me, right now; and, for awhile, now, actually. It has really been taking a toll, on me, too. I am definitely feeling ALOT the WORSE FOR WEAR. I feel like I'm a sad-looking, tattered, rag doll, gripped, in the teeth of some destructive dog breed, which is biting me, repeatedly, causing sharp pain to pierce through me, while more and more, of the soft, fragile, stuffing inside me, is being ripped right out of me during this vicious assault that is leaving me limp and helpless. My eyes teared up just typing the description of what it feels like to be me, right now. I FEEL SO SAD. I feel so TIRED! Not even so much, physically (although, that is a part of it), as I'm feeling in the depth of my SOUL. I feel a THOUSAND different things right now, about my life, about this world, and even about God. It's as if, all these thoughts are huge waves that are nearly drowning me from their weight and depth while my arms tire, more and more, from desperately trying, to tread water, to find air, to stay afloat, and not drown. Life is SO PRECIOUS TO ME. It is ALSO so PAINFUL. God has created me, and caused me to be here, as this person, at this time, in the whole span of human history. I am significant, because I was His idea, because I am here, and because I have an impact, on the world. By being, and expressing, who I am, while I am a part of it. Sometimes, it is a relief, to know that, the day will come, that God will finally call me home to Him, in Heaven; in His time, and in His way. My still existing simply says to me that He is not through, that I am not through with His assignment to me, on this Earth. For better, for worse, and alot, of fluctuation, in-between, those two things, I have touched the lives of others, making a difference in those lives, some way or other, by my presence there, just as they also impact me, and my life. Life is hard, though. No doubt, about it. Especially, this year, for ALL OF US, on this Earth. It brings this Bible verse, to mind, for me: "Men's hearts  failing  them  for  fear, and for looking toward those things which are coming on the earth: for the powers of heaven shall be shaken." (Luke 21:26 KJV) I have felt, I am on the edge of having a heart attack or a stroke from the sheer stress of this season of my life. I have felt true terror, for several reasons, that leaves me in pure despair, because I can't seem to do much of anything about the situations, that are causing this. My hope has been taken hostage.

Hope, is a necessary ingredient, to human survival. People can, literally, die, of a broken heart. So, I am extremely concerned, about my physiological, and psychological, heart, being able to bear up under the fact that my hope hangs, by the slimmest of threads, anymore; even though the other end of that thread is attached to God. If I may, indulge myself, in this, request: Would you, please, pray, for me? (My eyes teared up, again, as I asked you that, because, I really do need that, so much, right now!) One of the God Winks that I have had in my life has to do with the shower curtain that's hanging in my bathroom, now, of all things. (God Winks are often like that.)  When I moved into this apartment, after being a homeless, female, veteran, over a long, and difficult, summer, I needed a new shower curtain to go with this bathroom. I looked for one several times at different places during my various shopping trips but there was simply not one that even came close to going well with the color scheme. So, I only had a clear, vinyl, liner, as I continued my search for just the right curtain. After finishing a thorough investigation of all the different colors and styles that Walmart offered, one day, I gave up, entirely, and decided that I would just stop looking and simply continue using that stiff plastic one that was hanging by my tub now. I was tired, and wanted to get home, by that point, anyway. It may have been a small thing, in the overall scheme of things, but it was also discouraging, to me. The reason, for that, though, was because, I had felt the Holy Spirit, whispering, inside me, that HE had JUST THE ONE, for ME, picked out, and that I JUST HAD TO TRUST HIM on that. Some people say that God doesn't care about the little details, of our everyday lives, but the Bible says that He even NUMBERS ALL THE HAIRS on our head (Luke 12:7), and THAT indicates an INTIMACY, and a CONSTANT AWARENESS, of our daily, even, moment-to-moment, circumstances, down to our losing a single hair from our head. I just wasn't finding the shower curtain that I KNEW He was TELLING ME that He had picked out JUST FOR ME. He even seemed to be enthusiastic about it; actually excited, that I was about to finally find this 'gift' from Him, that came from His knowing ME, so well, that He KNEW EXACTLY WHAT I NEEDED. The PERFECT one for ME.

Although, I had GIVEN UP HOPE, and started to leave the aisle, to leave, the store, I turned back, because I felt Him telling me, that it was THERE; that WHAT I NEEDED was right there but I JUST WASN'T SEEING IT, yet! I looked through all the different styles, and colors, hanging up along the long aisle, and STILL DIDN'T SEE IT.  I KNEW it HAD to be there though because He was saying in my spirit that IT WAS. That this, was the store, and the shopping trip, and the day that I find the PERFECT shower curtain for my bathroom. So I stood, in the aisle, and whispered, to Him, in my own spirit, saying, "Holy Spirit, I KNOW, you are TELLING ME that IT'S HERE, somewhere, but I don't SEE it! Will You GUIDE ME, to where, it is, and HELP me TO SEE IT?" Then, I sensed Him Leading me back to a certain area, which, I had ALREADY CHECKED, at least twice, now. So, I looked, a THIRD time.  I saw one, that I REALLY LIKED--- one that I would describe as being "SO 'ME'" because it had several SCRIPTURE verses all along it from top to bottom and they were some of my FAVORITE ones. I had already seen this shower curtain though, and it was completely the wrong colors. But, when I looked at it again, this time, though, I FELT the Holy Spirit quickening in me, as if to alert me to pay closer attention. This WAS the PERFECT one for ME, because of the Bible verses on it, that I loved. But, the color was wrong. Knowing that He would NEVER LEAD ME ASTRAY though, I looked behind the ones of that style that were hanging in the front, of the row, of them, and, JUST BEHIND THEM, as if, He had HIDDEN IT AWAY, JUST FOR ME, to FINALLY FIND IT, THEN, was the same style, with the Bible verses, in the COLORS EXACTLY MATCHING my bathroom! One color, was EXACTLY the shade, of the tiles in the shower, and other colors, on it, matched the colors of the photograph that I had hung on the wall, in the bathroom, of a charming Nature scene with birds. I KNEW it was THE ONE, as SOON, as I SAW it! But, when I got it home, and held it up, against the colors in that room, I was still AMAZED, how PERFECTLY it matched EVERYTHING, in there; even though, I knew that the Holy Spirit would never have done anything LESS THAN THAT for me about it, because He had given me His Word, before I ever saw it, that He had that for me, to bless me. 

Those Bible verses, on the shower curtain, are something I see several times every day. They are some of the scriptures that mean the most to me. The one at the top, says something, that gives me a promise, from God, as I continue to struggle with my distress and my despondency over so many things, in my life, and, in the world, right now, that I don't feel like I can deal with, anymore; but I simply have no choice. I have to find some way to keep going. To not give up. I cling to God, and His Word, and His Spirit, to help me live this life, He has created me for, and Called me to; even though I cry, when I open my eyes each morning to a new day, anymore. It is just another opportunity for me to feel the dread, disgust, dismay, and damage, done, to me, to my country, and to my world which is making it so dangerous, destructive, and depressing. I am a human being. I get sad. I get scared. I feel vulnerable. I get my heart broken. It is literally taking all, I can do, to keep going, anymore, at this point. I honestly don't think I can even deal with all that's before me, that I have to, now. Knowing, there isn't a choice, is not giving me the motivation I need, to muster the strength, somehow, from somewhere, to do what I have to, as a consequence of how wrongly I am treated, at times. Speaking truth, speaking up, for what is right, causes me to share in some of the sufferings of Christ. He said that it would be that way, in this world, for His followers. So, I am not at all surprised. Just really disappointed, by people. I tend to present people with the opportunity, to rise, to their higher selves, and there are some that are very rarely comfortable at that altitude, spiritually speaking. When they rebel against it, it's not God, they strike out, at, but Him IN ME. Even so, I still FEEL THAT, DEEPLY, in several ways, because of the interconnection I have with God. It's EXTREMELY HARD for me to bear. 

The Holy Spirit knows, about all the things that I am going through, now, that are so extremely difficult, and disheartening, for me. It is ALOT, to be sure, and I DO NEED PRAYER, if you are so inclined to do so, to God, on my behalf. Be assured, that HE KNOWS ALL ABOUT ALL OF IT, and also, how best to answer the prayers, that I, or you, bring to him, regarding a situation. He gave me that very specific shower curtain, by both His Leading and His Provision, with the very verses on it that are SO COMFORTING, TO ME. I believe God's Word, and I claim these promises in those shower curtain scripture verses, as MY SAVING GRACE, and as MY ONLY HOPE, right now. It is very important; especially, because, apart from the truth, and the power, of God's Word, I would, otherwise, feel so hopeless and helpless, about things right now. That verse that's at the top of the shower curtain, that I spoke of, is this one, and I CLING FOR MY LIFE to the PROMISE, it contains; that THE DAY WILL COME, that I will not be HEART SICK, anymore, in any way, because, my HOPE will NO LONGER BE DEFERRED, when God WILL FINALLY, AT LONG LAST, FULFILL, MY LONGING, for the desires of my heart***, that I bring before Him day after day: "Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life." (Proverbs 13:12 NIV) [Note: You can see the verse in the photo of the shower curtain.]

For this month's post, this one will have to suffice. It is what I wrote today after six completely different attempts, and subjects, which I could not focus on, well enough to finish, because of everything else that I am, just barely, dealing with, right now, in my life. It's become a lengthy chapter of my life in itself; what I have been going through, the last few years. Some of it has been covered here: https://ascentthroughthedarknightofthesoul.blogspot.com/2020/02/why-i-have-become-female-chauvinist.html. Right now, though, the more significant aspects, of my current situation, are still unfolding toward the final resolution in real time; playing itself out to its ultimate, probably, even predictable, conclusion. Because of that, this chapter of my life is continuing to write itself at the moment. Someday, however, I should be able to sum it up, by writing about it all, here, as I struggle to process all my various and strong emotions, about it all. So, while I can't go into detail, about these things, that are oppressing my spirit, currently, there is still alot more to cover about my career as a dancer and other subjects regarding the life I have lived, and how those, and the people involved in them, have impacted me. Overall, the years I was a dancer were some of the happiest in my life although life is never a smooth, glassy, trouble-free sea that we float on in perfect peace. Sadly for me the current years have proved to be some of my most miserable years. I could well argue that I have deserved to be treated better, for what I have given to the situation I'm in over these years, especially to help others. But that would not help anything because it has not made much of a difference in it to the present day, as far as protecting me from problems or providing me more peace. I simply TAKE IT ALL TO GOD, on a daily basis--- sometimes, even a moment-to-moment one--- and try my best, to SURVIVE it all, when it often truly feels to me like it is DOING ME IN, from the SHEER STRESS OF IT ALL. >sigh!< I am living with ALOT, of different emotions, in me, now. 

I have written poems my whole life; ever since I was a very young child (and lyrics too). I even have a poem, which I wrote, when I was just 8 years old! I usually write them when my heart is full, of some strong emotion, whether good, or bad, happy, or sad. I sat and wrote the following one 9/20/20. It pretty much sums up the despair, I am feeling, about everything, right now, and how worn out I am, from the relentlessness of it all. (P.S. I wasn't trying to step on Pink Floyd's toes, with the title, etc. That phrase just resonated, with what I have been feeling ALOT lately.)

The Dark Side Of The Moon 

Some people are living their dream,

Others are living their nightmare.

I'm somewhere in-between,

But closer to the dark side of the moon.

Chased that carrot around the track

Meant to motivate; can't be caught.

I chased that tease to hell and back,

While I starved, on the dark side of the moon.

The dark is colder than the light.

Feels like there's no one here but me.

My heart's burned out, from 'fight or flight'.

I'm worn out, by the dark side of the moon.

I've just 'survived' for so damn long.

I thought I'd, finally, get to live.

My dreams have died; my hope is gone,

From too long, on the dark side of the moon.

Death is dancing, all around me.

What a mocker, torment is.

I don't possess the needed key,

To escape from the dark side of the moon.

What's the answer? I don't have it.

But this will never feel like home.

My soul was not designed to fit

A life lived on the dark side of the moon.

My hope lies in God's Hands alone.

My feeble voice cries out, to Him,

Then turns into a woeful moan.

I'm stuck here, on the dark side of the moon.

                           - Deborah Gayle Robinson

                               

That brings me to the other photo that I also want to share with you here. It is the photograph that I came across on Facebook, yesterday, which I mentioned to you at the beginning of this post. When I saw it, and still now, every time I look at it, my HEART JUST GOES OUT to this PRECIOUS GIRL, in what is, OBVIOUSLY, her own DEEP HEARTACHE, AND SUFFERING. >sigh!<  There is SO MUCH OF IT, in this world, we all share. My own face has looked much like hers does here, seeing myself in the mirror, these days, as I continue to BREAK  DOWN into UNCONTROLLABLE  SOBS, from my own, stress, and heartbreak. But, I daresay, even WITHOUT KNOWING, the specific details, of HER CIRCUMSTANCES, that SHE has EVEN MORE to look so MISERABLE about than I DO, now, in my life. My heart just breaks, for her sadness, and pain. Her fear, and despair. ALL, OF WHICH, are SO CLEARLY EXPRESSED, on her PRECIOUS FACE!  I just want to HUG her. To SOMEHOW MAKE IT BETTER for her.

I didn't think that MY HEART could POSSIBLY break any MORE than it ALREADY IS RIGHT NOW, because of my own problems, UNTIL, I SAW THIS. I have tears, in my eyes, as I look, into hers. I DON'T KNOW HOW to make MY OWN SITUATION ANY BETTER, and I know of only one thing that I CAN DO, FOR HER, right now, which is what I am doing for myself, and THAT IS TO PRAY. I feel God's Hand is upon her. I have prayed, specific scripture, promises over her and for her since first seeing this photo of her. I know she will remain in my thoughts and prayers, and I ask YOU to JOIN ME in PRAYING FOR HER. WHATEVER she is GOING THROUGH, just from what I have SEEN ON THE NEWS about Yemen I KNOW that it MUST be ALOT WORSE, EVEN BY FAR, than what is CAUSING ME TERROR in MY life, here and now. May God, KEEP HER, and BLESS HER. PLEASE PRAY, FOR THIS GIRL. Thank you!

With ALL she's LOST, she GAVE a SMILE, through her TERROR and her TEARS. I RESPECT HER, IMMENSELY, but NOT THE MEN, that PUT THEIR EGOS ahead of the PEACE, AND SAFETY, of VULNERABLE PEOPLE. THOSE MEN DISGUST ME. They WILL ANSWER TO GOD, for it, someday, while LITTLE GIRLS, like THIS ONE, will sit securely, on God's Lap, AND WATCH. Amen.

* What does a God wink mean? Noun. God wink (plural God winks) An event or personal experience, often identified as coincidence, so astonishing that it is seen as a sign of divine intervention, especially when perceived as the answer to a prayer. 

** A pilgrimage is a journey, often into an unknown or foreign place, where a person goes in search of new or expanded meaning about their self, others, nature, or a higher good, through the experience. It can lead to a personal transformation.

*** Psalm 37:4 (ESV) is another promise from God, which says, "Delight yourself in the Lord, and He will give you the desires of your heart." I DO, so HE WILL. Amen! So be it!

NOTE: To read an actual Preview, of the wonderful, must-read, book, of Squire Rushnell's, go to this link, and page down the screen, to be able to actually read parts of it. I HIGHLY RECOMMEND his books on this subject! (NOTE: the PC screen, behind it, goes dark when you go to this Preview link, but the pages of the Preview itself are not):  https://www.google.com/books/edition/When_GOD_Winks/cLzAAgAAQBAJ?hl=en&gbpv=1&printsec=frontcover