I would occasionally go to Dakota, a gay bar on Pacific Ave, downtown. I wanted to meet people, but I was having a hard time penetrating the outer-walls of the lesbian subculture. At the time, I thought it was because I looked too straight, or no one really wanted to talk to me. I think now, that it was more reflective of the fact that, the people I really find interesting weren't hanging out in bars. I was completely incapable of pursing interests of my own, with out alcohol because I really didn't know what my interests were. I didn’t know myself at all. I would think about joining some sort of club, but what would I join? I was a vacant shell of a person. And I was very busy trying to fill it up with alcohol. My lack of self-esteem and diluted sense of self affected every relationship I have ever had. So I would go to Dakota, sip a few lemon drops, at the bar, telling myself that I was sophisticated and waiting to warm up. Then a couple hours later, I would go home with the intensity of my loneliness, at least subdued by the vodka. One of the bouncers there was named Felicia. For many years I couldn't figure out why I named myself after a short, stocky, butch-dyke. Until now, I needed an alter ego who could defend me.
I did meet one girl at Dakota, named Emily. Oddly enough the first two girls I went out with shared the same names as my two very best friends, in high school. Kim and Emily. Weird. Emily was an actual modern dancer, born and raised in Santa Cruz. She was similar in stature to Kim, but much more innocent. We went out a couple of times. We went to the bar and rang in 2002 together. She was silky and smooth. Her hair glossy natural, brown hair, was shoulder length. She seemed wholesome. Eventually our relationship ran its course, and petered out, and we lost contact. Probably because I was really hard to relate to. I was still trying to pin point where I fell on the Kinsey scale, but when I would get drunk at the bar, I would often go home with a man. Men were easier, predictable and familiar and a cheap alternative to driving drunk. I followed the same routine, night after night. Bar..., drink..., back to his house..., sex..., hangover..., walk of shame home. Day after day, night after night. There were at least 100 nameless faces. That was an extremely numb period of my life. I went to a lot of karaoke. My life was a smattering of margaritas, cosmos and morning after pills. I had a one regular repetitive one night stand, in the neighborhood where I live in now. I did a lot of bizarre things that I am embarrassed of. I was just starting learning the ropes of my dancing career and was depressed and still mildly suicidal. I had been prescribed Paxil when I was with Joe, but my drinking was most definitely negating its effectiveness. I was still working my day job, at a picture framing store and Gallery, on Soquel Avenue. One day, I was helping a woman who turned out to be a therapist. It also turned out, that Abby would then be, my therapist on and off for the next seven years. We worked in circles until she tried to look at my drinking. She asked me to limit myself to three drinks a night, and see what happened. I stopped seeing her, thats what happened. I tried to control it, but when I realized that wasn't as fun, I just stopped taking the pills and took a little breather from therapy. I do have to mention, that the night I met Paul, my repetitive one one night stand, did change my life. Paul had just beaten some kind of brain cancer earlier that year, and the night we met, we talked for hours about making it through difficult times. I think that was the first time, ever in my life, I had had a conversation of that nature. He made me feel like I wasn't alone in my suffering, and that it would pass. It could have been my self-medicating or that long night with Paul, but I felt a shift out of my deep, dark depression. Unexpectedly I had the will to live.
I quit my day job when I started doing the math, and saw that working a nine to five job was clearly a waste of my time. All of a sudden exotic dancing turned into my career. I was serious about my music, make-up, and costumes. I put a lot of thought into being prepared. I had underwear that I could string alphabet beads onto, to spell the bachelors name. This was my passion, not just a way to make a quick buck, to score drugs. My body really was a commodity at that point. One time I tripped on a blanket at a show and twisted my ankle. I remember having concerns about what I would do, if I ever got really injured, what would I do? I had a personal trainer, and usually ran 4 miles a day and weight trained with weights every other day. I was on a low carb, whole grain, high protein diet, as well as at least a bottle of wine a day. Felicia was everything that the real me wasn’t. She didn't’ care what other people thought, she demanded the best, and got it. My life was fancy free. I would sometimes find $200 cash in a pocket that I had forgotten about. Jim and I became friends, and eventually we moved in together. It worked great because I got first dibs on shows, and he could always get a hold of me, even if I was sleeping. I always found that routine a little odd. I could get a call at 3:00 in the morning, after having slept for 3 hours, put on make-up, go get naked for an hour, and then come home and go back to bed, like it was all a dream. The worst part about being on call was being clean shaven at all times. One of my least favorite parts of the job. Jim and I usually hung out together at home, watching South Park, or sometimes I would go to the bar alone.
Private shows were a different beast than bachelor parties. There was the guy who wanted me to stay in my street clothes and pretend to kick him in the balls, the guy who wanted me just chat with him, the guy that had me put make-up on him, the guy who had an envelope of 5000 dollars and asked me to keep getting money from it for my tips, as we went along, the husband and wife couple where the wife was disabled so she would treat him to a stripper every so often, the guy who perpetually called to have a girl oil wrestle him for $50, and some that some turned my stomach. There were many men that I thought I could never possibly forget, but have. I started to think that I would never see it all. There was always a stranger adventure around the corner just waiting for me.
No comments:
Post a Comment