I read somewhere once that those who work in the sex industry, typically have low self-esteem. The theory goes, that because the have so little worth for themselves, they decide and set upon an arbitrary price for that which should be beyond recompense. Qualities like beauty, charm, and grace are ephemeral, and totally subjective, and thus, should be share with those with the sense and the right eyes to see it. It is a romantic view, but not a wrong one.
I don't think that's what's at issue though with those who ply their gifts for monetary recompense. It's like I say about film Directors who's work I don't particularly admire. I don't begrudge anyone for finding their audience. In the end, we're all just trying approval; people who find value in what we bring to the table; love, if you will. It comes in more than one form. And in today's reality, the value of that, does come with a price tag, especially if one is to survive on more than good wishes and a pat on the back.
We live in a world where porn stars make six figure incomes. If strippers and call girls could be accused of having less ambition, it's only because the value their anonymity to such an extant as to effectively place it off the market. But a girl's still got to pay the rent. And their aren't many easier ways to do it, and still dictate your own hours, and to an extant, choose your own client base.
So they finance their dreams... of independence and creature comforts, or even classes to insure against that day... when finally their youth and beauty begin to fade.
And after, not all we Johns are scum. Some of us are grateful, and value the time that is spent.
I have been high, and I have been low. And one day, I found myself stranded across town, with no way of getting home. Now there are more than a few strippers across town who have made good money from me. And sometimes, when I don't have THAT kind of cash to spend, I'll bring some flowers instead, and a sincere and warm thank you, hanging on my lips. I don't go unless I have a dollar for every dance. But when you can't afford to even buy a lady a drink (because they're twenty-one bucks for a split of champagne!) it's a good way to say, I'll get you next time. Your're not far from my dreams.
And so, on THIS occasion, I was in the neighborhood, and really had no one else to ask. I went inside the club and told her simply, "I'm here because I had a job interview, but I have no way of getting back. Can you lend me ten bucks?" To be honest, I was thinking about more than the ride home, which would have only cost me five. I was thinking of the ride, and picking up a cheap pack of cigarettes along the way.
And this dancer whom I have known for 7 years said simply to me, "Is that all you need? Which took me aback some, and I replied, "Twenty?" To which she repeated, "Is that all?" I said, "Forty?" And again, she stared me right in the eyes and said, "Is that all?" And I couldn't in all good conscious go much higher than that. This is a girl who works on tips and as any independent worker hustling for commissions will tell you, there are good days, and there are slow days, and there are no guarantees. So I said, "Fifty?" And she said, "Let me go to the back and get my tips." When she returned, she slid a fifty across the bar, bought me a bucket of beer, and sat ant talked with me until I was done.
Let me make something clear here. Despite my qualifier before about about the money I've spent, or even about being the Mercury florist guy of the stripper world, I'm not saying I ever did anything to deserve such kindness. I'm not even laying claim that I'm a particularly nice guy. As time will reveal, I have sinned, and carry those sins, both in my heart and on my sleeve. And just because I do so, doesn't give me a free pass. As time will reveal, they are numerous and they are there, for you freely, to judge or disdain.
But if one thing can be said, it is this: I AM grateful. And I keep a running tab of all my debts. This ledger, I carry in my heart. And this heart can know no rest. Not 'till the ledger is cleared. Not 'till the scales tip on its opposite side.
The Fringe and the Underbelly (on Avenue D). It's that place where we are reminded of our dreams. We negotiate their worth, in order to pay for a better day.
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