Does anyone every really know anyone? We all work to try to discover ourselves and deal with that our whole entire life-span. Where is the actual room or truth about someone else? Is it even really possible? I'm not sure. I don't really think so. Just when you think you know someone, there is always something new. Physics and Empaths probably have a leg up. For the rest of us, we just get lucky glimpses....shiny, small, fragments. Yep, luck...that's all it is.
I learned of story that my friend had never shared before. He had never told anyone. And now, I knew the story. It didn't change my opinion of him. It wasn't that kind of story. But, it was one that showed me a little more of how he lived and thought before we met. A glimpse into and experience that shaped him. How privileged was I? Very. I never knew. Maybe we're getting old enough to talk like that now. If you don't record it, it will be lost. That's for sure. I wanted to hear more and more. Maybe we just need more tequila.
Yes, I worked at a law-firm, and an engineering firm, and other places of respect...that term "respect" I use loosely. All of my jobs were about the same. The same because people are the same. Work is work is work. I also had tons of smaller jobs. Pizza delivery, restaurant work, dog walker, telemarketer, survey taker, secretary, data entry, janitor, plasma giver....so on and so on. And I have stories from each. Why didn't I have a career?...a chosen field? Well, for the answer to that, we would need more time and definitely more tequila.
I tried to be a stripper once. Well, a couple of times, actually. Those who know me, already know this.
I was a horrible stripper. My body was fine, young, strong, mostly naked. But, I was a horrible stripper. I couldn't take it seriously. Of course I wanted to make money, even the big money. I was just horrible at it.
I was neither exotic enough, wild enough, or innocent enough. I didn't learn all the moves or gimmicks. And trying my hardest to look at some guys standing there half-drunk, half-turned on, half- of a lot of things with their tiny dollars in their hands...well, trying to look at them like they were sexy and welcomed, well, I just was not very good at it. I didn't hate them or the stripping...it really was just another job. But, a job, nonetheless, that I was not able to master. Probably partly because I didn't find myself that sexy, I didn't see myself like that...capable of being sexy to others. And partly because men not capable of seeing tits out in the light of day with their dollars wasn't very appealing to me either. Drunk, sometimes drugged, sweaty, cheap perfumes,cheap people, vomit, liquor, scamming, t-backs, grabby, laughing, smokey, dim-lights, loud, self-importance, degradation, heartache, sometimes criminal, sometimes funny....and boredom...all the things a good nudie bar entails. I tried to pick music I liked to dance to, at least. Show butt left, show but right, shake a little here, shake a little there...take close off slowly, look interested and needy for that dollar....repeat. Not that glamorous when you break it down. Things I saw probably damaged me way more than the nakedness. Later I would make way more money as a waitress in those places...part drink-slinger, part psychologist, part "friend". I could have made way more money if I had been more malicious, too. If I didn't have the powers of kindness that I have. Yeah, that part of me, ruined me at times with my chances of earning the big bucks. Don't get me wrong, I made plenty. But, there were chances I just didn't take. Sigh.
Some times in nudie bar the time goes so fast, like it has been sped up, just catch glimpses fast. Sometimes so slow, you just wanted to keep changing the channel, in hopes of there being something, anything, that wasn't loud snow or reruns.
Sometimes after the one bar would close, my and another waitress (who was a nurse at a hospital by day) would sneak into the bathroom after cleaning up everything, and remove the couple of stashed beers from under the sink and have a quick recap of the night sitting on the sticky, stinking floor of the bathroom with our snuck beers and smoking....counting cash and laughing. That was good, really good. She was good.
Oh, there was this one other waitress, she was a career nudie bar waitress. Had tons of plastic surgery, big boobies, bigger attitude. She was fierce, supper fierce, cut-throat about "her" customers, her job, her boobs. All the long hair flipping. Frankly, most of the time, she was just a pain in the ass for me and my fellow besty waitress friend. And she was never successful in getting all the money and ALL the customers. People like different things, and changes...all the things a nudie bar offers. Most times we just ignored her. Other times, we would poke at her a bit....just to get her all riled up. Example of her: She liked a small tank top I had, so she bought it and wore it. She told me, not to worry, she wouldn't wear it on the same nights at me, looking down at my natural boobs, as she said it. lol.. I replied: Is this about your boobs again? Boobs, boobs, boobs....is that ALL you can think about?!? You can wear it on the same nights as me, I don't care. We all know that I still have my original boobs, and I wore it first. So, no issue. Smile. She was so mad that she wore it every night for a week and tucked her money in it. Other waitress and I laughed and laughed. Oh for Pete's Sake! Besty waitress stole it one night out of her locker and accidentally pored/spilled bleach on the nipple parts, and put it back. Oh, so sad for here. The screams, the rampage. All the horror over a $5 tank top. Too easy. I still had mine.
Later, at the engineering firm there would be a woman. She wore high heels, HIGH heels, and boobie exposing outfits every day. And she was not unlike this waitress. She hated me, and sometimes tried to get to me. But, I had already seen it before and it had been done better.
Yep. Just lucky glimpses.
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