章 18: Chapter 18: Unlicensed Therapists, Part 1
"Your unlicensed therapists."
The billboard on I-35 promised compassionate listening from scantily-clad women. This portal into the strip-club corridor of Dallas reminded men that there were women waiting to listen to anything you had to say…for a fee of course. Most guys who came to the strip club weren't perverts, sex-obsessed, or total misogynists; they were just lonely or needed a stranger to talk to. In that way, strip clubs are like confessionals: no one is going to judge you, because who are we to judge in a place like this? Most, granted, didn't talk about their problems or issues in the club, because it was a way to escape them, not face them.
However, there was one guy who had no qualms talking about his troubles; turns out, he gave me some free advice which would ultimately take me deeper into the rabbit hole. David came in toward the evening, around 5 or 6, looking to drink, avoid traffic, and look at pretty women. I approached him.
"Hi! My name is Rose." I reached out my hand for the standard handshake greeting. "May I sit down with you?"
"Sure, please, have a seat." I slid into a chair next to him. We were near the back, close to the bar and about three feet away from stage 2. Starla's legs gleamed out of the corner of my eye.
"So how are you doing today?" I leaned forward and smiled.
"Just trying to get by," he said. "Listen, I don't wanna be rude, but I'm probably not going to get a dance today. I kind of have to watch my money lately, and you seem really nice. I just don't want to waste your time."
Normally, at that point I would have chucked deuces and moved onto the next customer. But I didn't want to seem like the rude one, only sticking around for money (which I was). Besides, something about the way he mentioned lack of money made me curious. Why come to a strip club with no money?
"No, it's ok; why do you have to be careful with money right now? I mean, I know that one week it's all ramen and frozen dinners for me, then the next I can go hard at Red Lobster. Is it just a temporary thing?"
The ramen-versus-red-lobster comment broke the ice, and he grinned.
"Nah, it's just… I mean my girlfriend and I have been having some problems, and I don't know whether to leave her or not."
Ok, heavy stuff.
"Oh wow. Yeah, break ups are never fun. What's making you stay and why do you think you should leave?"
"Well, she steals money from me all the time. Out of my wallet or my credit card to take cash out of the ATM."
Oh.
"Yeah, that's kind of bad," I said. Starla on stage 2 was busy twerking in her matching red bra and T-back.
"I know. I just love her so much, but she's kind of a meth-head and gets high or drunk a lot."
Oh.
"And she takes lots of pills," he continued. "Stuff she doesn't even have a prescription for, Vicodin, oxycotin, shit like that. She just finds it and uses up whatever money she has, then steals mine."
"THANK YOU CHRISTINE! NEXT UP IS THE BEAUIFUL HEAVEN!" The DJ gave me a moment to think. Starla walked by our table, wearing nothing but her T-back and shoes. Sweat glistened on her back.
"Wow. It sounds like she might have depression or anxiety issues."
"Oh she does. Her dad beat her when she was little and her mom never gave a shit. Everyone's got something, right?"
"Yeah, 'normal' is a myth. No one's normal," I said.
"Just some of us are more fucked up than others." He smiled and took a swig of beer. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm pretty fucked up too. My aunt used to touch me when I was a little kid."
My heart instantly lurched. I have profound sympathy for a survivor of incest, particularly because it happened in my own family.
"Jeezus. I'm sorry that happened to you." Words in the wind. "I know that this probably means nothing, but…I know what it's like to be betrayed by someone you love. Not to that degree, but… still."
He smiled in a sad, resigned way. "Just gotta deal with it and move on."
I looked around the club at my fellow humans in pain, drowning their sorrows in cheap alcohol and warm, gyrating bodies.
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