Shortly after this, Diana’s mother told me that I had to find another place to live.
She didn’t want to take on the added responsibility of another troubled girl.
“One problem child is enough,” she said. I was completely devastated and didn’t take the news well. Diana’s mother gave me $300 and drove me to the local YMCA. This was to be my new home for the next couple of months. During this time, I shared a room with several older and very dysfunctional women. This was one of the worst experiences of my life. I ended up having to take a low-paying job at a local dry cleaner in order to pay my rent.
I was alone and had nothing or anyone in my life. My only solace was my friend Diana, who I called collect on a regular basis. My existence was pathetic and bereft of any type of normalcy. However, I was a strong, young woman who was determined to change my deplorable situation. After racking my brains for several weeks, I managed to come up with a temporary solution for my problems. I decided to join the armed forces, preferably the Navy.
My decision to join the Navy was based solely on my need to survive. I had absolutely no interest in the military or anything else for that matter. Enveloped in emotional pain, my only concern in life was to make sure that I had a place to live. There was an Armed Forces Recruiting station within walking distance of the YMCA. I decided to enlist as soon as possible.
The day that I decided to walk into the recruiting center, I was clad in my usual attire of black clothing; tight jeans, a low-cut, spandex top, and leather boots. My hair was platinum blonde, and styled very similar to that of Marilyn Monroe. My eye makeup was relatively heavy, and my lips were painted a sumptuous shade of red. I certainly didn’t look like the typical woman that would join the service.
A handsome, but very tired looking older man, wearing an army uniform sat behind a cluttered desk carelessly thumbing through a Field and Stream magazine. I casually walked over to his desk and asked him if he could help me. The man looked up at me for one brief moment, and then proceeded to read his magazine. He commented quickly, “The beauty shop is down the street young lady.”
Highly offended by the man’s condescending remark, I quickly informed the recruiting officer that I wasn’t looking for a beauty shop. “Excuse me,” I said.
“I’m here to enlist in the military if you don’t mind.” A total look of bemusement crossed the silver-haired man’s face. “O.K. young lady,” he replied apologetically,
“have a seat and let’s see what we can do for you.” In the early 1970’s, women couldn’t enlist in the military without a high school diploma or a GED. However, this rule didn’t apply to the male population. The recruiting officer personally drove me to a nearby community college so that I could take my GED test. I passed the exam, and I was scheduled to leave for boot camp within three weeks.
I made a snap decision to join the Navy. It was based on the fact that I preferred the look of the naval uniform to any of the other military branches. My enlistment contract was for three years. During this period, I worked in the personnel department for one of the Naval Technical Training Centers. I processed individuals for disciplinary hearings. I worked very close with a Lieutenant Commander who kept an impressive stash of pornographic magazines in his desk drawer. He was also in constant pursuit of my affection.
The military environment provided me with some semblance of security. I had a roof over my head, medical attention, and three meals a day. The military was an answer to a prayer for a young woman in my position, but not for long. By the end of my second year, I wanted out. I was too emotionally unstable to adhere to the rules and regulations of such a militant existence.
I received an honorable discharge from the Navy a couple of weeks before my twenty-second birthday. As far as my military experience was concerned, I can’t say that it was a particularly unpleasant one. I was fortunate enough to have befriended some very nice people. Outside of that, I failed to derive much else from my stint in the service.
2. Beginning a New Life
The fact that I didn’t even have enough money to rent a doghouse sent me into an immediate state of panic. Although I didn’t want to admit it, I had put myself in the exact same position that I was in before I joined the service. Desperate for a place to live, I threw myself at the mercy of a Chief Petty Officer, whom I befriended while I was in the Navy. My friend’s name was Jed Lenner. Jed and I worked together in the same office for over a year. During this time, I got to know Jed and his family quite well.
The benevolent couple immediately came to my aid. The Lenners took me into their home, and assured me that I could stay with them for as long as I wanted.
Shortly after I moved in with them, I began to look for a job. As I began to skim through the job ads in the newspaper, I realized that I virtually had no marketable job skills. The thought of not being able to find a job was overwhelming to me. I combed through the columns of job ads in the hopes of finding something that I could do. I finally ran across an ad that peaked my interest. It read something like this:
$$$ EXOTIC DANCERS WANTED $$$
EARN $700 A WEEK PLUS
NO EXPERIENCE NECESSARY
There was a phone number in the job ad. I called the number immediately. A man answered the telephone and told me that the club didn’t open until 7:00 p.m., and that I should call back later in the evening. I asked him the name of the club. I recognized the name “Ruby Garter” instantly. I had seen the sign numerous times from the expressway. I had often wondered about the mysterious building, but never dreamed that someday I would be working there. Reducing myself to stripping for a living wasn’t exactly something that I wanted to do, but at the time it seemed like my only recourse. I convinced myself that I would strip for “just awhile.” Years later, I discovered that my resolution to strip for “just awhile” was the hallmark proclamation of practically every exotic dancer that I had ever met. The problem with deciding to strip for “just awhile” was that somehow the “just awhile” part turned into a couple of decades.
Later on in the day, I called Diana and asked if she would mind giving me a lift to the Ruby Garter club. I had not talked to Diana for a couple months, so she had no idea that I had been discharged from the Navy. She was surprised to learn that, and even more surprised when I told her that I had decided to go to work at a strip club. Diana agreed to give me a lift to the club. She said she would pick me up at 8:00 p.m. the following evening.
Monday evening arrived before I knew it. I clearly remember sitting in my mod-est, little bedroom hunched over my makeup mirror that I kept perched on a cardboard box desperately trying to put on my makeup. Once I had finished creating the perfect face, I went into the bathroom to fix my shoulder length, platinum-blonde hair. I looked perfect. The finishing touch was a pair of long sparkling rhinestone earrings that hung seductively against my suntanned neck.
I slid off my old white t-shirt, and slipped into a skintight, red spandex dress. A wicked looking pair of metallic gold, five-inched spiked heels complimented my shapely legs. I carelessly sprayed myself with my favorite perfume, while admiring myself in the mirror. Although I thought that I looked pretty good, I wouldn’t have wanted the Lenners to see me dressed like this. Needless to say, I was relieved when I learned that they would be gone for the evening.
I remember the house being extremely quiet that night. As I walked down the stairs, which led to the kitchen, the clanging sound of my gold electroplated bracelets intensely magnified the unsettling silence. I sat down at the blue formica table that was carefully positioned in front of a large glass picture window, and waited patiently for Diana to pick me up. Little did I know that evening would seal my fate for the next twenty-three years.