Years ago I used to dance at a bar in Tucson, Arizona. At some point I decided to start working the day shift instead of the night shift. After several days a busty, blonde dancer approached me while I was getting something out of my locker in the dressing room.
"You are far from the hottest thing in here." she said.
Huh?
I must have looked at her with puzzlement.
She spoke with emotion in her voice and she reiterated something close to the same words:
"You said you were the hottest thing in here and you are far from the hottest thing in here."
It was odd.
Out of some misguided sense of politeness I said:
"No-o.. you must be confused.." and then just let my voice trail off.
What do you say? I had not even known what she was talking about.
As it turned out some rumor had been started by a female bartender and a dancer that I had announced that I was the "hottest thing" in that bar. It was just too stupid. That dancer who had confronted me was mentally retarded. Not by normal standards, but definitely by my standards. From then on I ignored her whenever she tried to catch my attention. She spoke of me in loud, mocking tones - always making reference to what a "bimbo" I was. When I went on stage she and her friend would imitate my dance routine off to the side of the stage. She circulated around the bar and told regular customers not to tip me. She seemed like a mosquito buzzing around the periphery of my life. She wanted my attention and I did not really know why. She was an idiot who spent so much energy telegraphing her disdain to me at work that I began assuming that she could not have much of a life. I silently scorned her without ever acknowledging her. She escalated her behavior. I did not react. Finally one day she approached me on the floor of the bar and said:
"I found out that you never said that you were 'the hottest thing in here'. I'm sorry I accused you of that. I will apologize to you in front of all the girls here if you want."
"Oh.. well.. that's nice of you." I said politely.
"What?!" she said quickly and a bit too loudly.
She had already been walking away from me and she had to spin around to face me.
"I said that that was nice of you." I repeated.
It took a moment for the comment to register in her head. Then, somewhat abashed, she just said "Oh.", nodded her head and walked away.
That was that but she continued to behave in a hostile manner towards me and ridicule me in front of other people. I just kept on ignoring her. One day I happened to mention her behavior to my boyfriend Thad. He just shook his head. After a few months I started dancing during the night shift again. Coincidentally, this same malignant dancer did too. She still manifested her animosity towards me, albeit in milder form, but she never did succeed in getting much of my attention. One night we both happened to be in the restroom at the same time.
"So, you're dating Thad?" she asked me as I was washing my hands.
I let a few beats go by and then responded:
"Yeah."
She stared at me. The silence felt uncomfortable.
"Why? Do you know him?" I asked. Or I think I asked that. I don't remember what I had said, but it was something along those lines. I had felt compelled to speak because the air was so rife with tension or unspoken words or something.
"Yeah. I know him." she said.
Something in her tone caught my attention. She seemed so diffident and quiet, almost shy. That loud, annoying broad had never sounded that way before. It took me a few days or weeks to remember to ask Thad about her. He had laughed.
"Yeah, I went out with her a few times years ago." he informed me. "I told you that. She used to go by 'Ricky' and she worked at the West club."
I did not really remember him mentioning it but evidently he had.
"She was the one with the rough face." he elaborated. "I saw her in the daylight on our second date and I told her she needed to start wearing makeup whenever she went out with me."
His words kind of rang a bell. I recalled that he had told me that story before, but I had not known who he was talking about. 'Ricky' had been going by a different name ever since I had met her.
"My friends and I stared calling her '80 Grit' because her face was so rough." he said and looked over at me to see if I got the joke.
We were in the car and I glanced back at him with a puzzled expression to convey my lack of understanding. He had gone on to explain that sandpaper has different textures like 80 grit, 100 grit, and 150 grit that indicated its level of abrasiveness. Evidently 80 grit sandpaper looks rough. I let all this new information marinate in my head and felt the corners of my mouth turning up into a bit of a smile. That girl had been a thorn in my side for quite some time so it was easy to feel amused at her expense. She did in fact have bad skin. She looked really good on stage and out on the floor of the bar, but I had noticed that she had a lot of acne when I'd seen her under the brighter lights in the dressing room. After a few moments I asked Thad:
"Did you really tell her to put on makeup when she went out with you?"
"Yeah, I did." he responded. "She looked nasty without makeup. I almost threw my car into reverse when I got to her apartment on our second date and saw how bad she looked."
"How did she react when you told her that?" I asked him with genuine interest.
"She got kind of mad, but she did start wearting makeup." he said. "I didn't really like her that much though. I stopped seeing her."
All of a sudden that dancer's behavior made a lot more sense to me, and not just because it explained why she disliked me so much. I found myself realizing just how demoralized and miserable a person that she really was. It almost made me feel sorry for her. Why on Earth would a woman even go on another date with a man who ordered her to wear makeup, particularly a man she had just met? Evidently because she had no sense of self-confidence or self-worth at all, I concluded. That was just sad. I had spent my life filled with contempt and loathing for myself, but even I would not let some man tell me I had to wear makeup. No fucking way. Wow. That annoying dancer had a lot more problems than I had ever fathomed. I ruminated upon all this as I sat in the car with Thad. He could be a real dick. I knew that. Still, I was just blown away that she would listen to him at all and continue to have any interest in him whatsoever.
My memories of the annoying dancer resurfaced recently when I was doing a bondage shoot.
"Your face is kind of broken out." Marcus the photographer had told me. "I am going to put a big gag over it."
He gagged me with a scarf. We kept shooting. My mind had wandered back to Tucson, Arizona and I vaguely wondered what had become of that annoying dancer. I found that I could not even remember her name. Now I will forever think of her as "80 Grit".
"You are far from the hottest thing in here." she said.
Huh?
I must have looked at her with puzzlement.
She spoke with emotion in her voice and she reiterated something close to the same words:
"You said you were the hottest thing in here and you are far from the hottest thing in here."
It was odd.
Out of some misguided sense of politeness I said:
"No-o.. you must be confused.." and then just let my voice trail off.
What do you say? I had not even known what she was talking about.
As it turned out some rumor had been started by a female bartender and a dancer that I had announced that I was the "hottest thing" in that bar. It was just too stupid. That dancer who had confronted me was mentally retarded. Not by normal standards, but definitely by my standards. From then on I ignored her whenever she tried to catch my attention. She spoke of me in loud, mocking tones - always making reference to what a "bimbo" I was. When I went on stage she and her friend would imitate my dance routine off to the side of the stage. She circulated around the bar and told regular customers not to tip me. She seemed like a mosquito buzzing around the periphery of my life. She wanted my attention and I did not really know why. She was an idiot who spent so much energy telegraphing her disdain to me at work that I began assuming that she could not have much of a life. I silently scorned her without ever acknowledging her. She escalated her behavior. I did not react. Finally one day she approached me on the floor of the bar and said:
"I found out that you never said that you were 'the hottest thing in here'. I'm sorry I accused you of that. I will apologize to you in front of all the girls here if you want."
"Oh.. well.. that's nice of you." I said politely.
"What?!" she said quickly and a bit too loudly.
She had already been walking away from me and she had to spin around to face me.
"I said that that was nice of you." I repeated.
It took a moment for the comment to register in her head. Then, somewhat abashed, she just said "Oh.", nodded her head and walked away.
That was that but she continued to behave in a hostile manner towards me and ridicule me in front of other people. I just kept on ignoring her. One day I happened to mention her behavior to my boyfriend Thad. He just shook his head. After a few months I started dancing during the night shift again. Coincidentally, this same malignant dancer did too. She still manifested her animosity towards me, albeit in milder form, but she never did succeed in getting much of my attention. One night we both happened to be in the restroom at the same time.
"So, you're dating Thad?" she asked me as I was washing my hands.
I let a few beats go by and then responded:
"Yeah."
She stared at me. The silence felt uncomfortable.
"Why? Do you know him?" I asked. Or I think I asked that. I don't remember what I had said, but it was something along those lines. I had felt compelled to speak because the air was so rife with tension or unspoken words or something.
"Yeah. I know him." she said.
Something in her tone caught my attention. She seemed so diffident and quiet, almost shy. That loud, annoying broad had never sounded that way before. It took me a few days or weeks to remember to ask Thad about her. He had laughed.
"Yeah, I went out with her a few times years ago." he informed me. "I told you that. She used to go by 'Ricky' and she worked at the West club."
I did not really remember him mentioning it but evidently he had.
"She was the one with the rough face." he elaborated. "I saw her in the daylight on our second date and I told her she needed to start wearing makeup whenever she went out with me."
His words kind of rang a bell. I recalled that he had told me that story before, but I had not known who he was talking about. 'Ricky' had been going by a different name ever since I had met her.
"My friends and I stared calling her '80 Grit' because her face was so rough." he said and looked over at me to see if I got the joke.
We were in the car and I glanced back at him with a puzzled expression to convey my lack of understanding. He had gone on to explain that sandpaper has different textures like 80 grit, 100 grit, and 150 grit that indicated its level of abrasiveness. Evidently 80 grit sandpaper looks rough. I let all this new information marinate in my head and felt the corners of my mouth turning up into a bit of a smile. That girl had been a thorn in my side for quite some time so it was easy to feel amused at her expense. She did in fact have bad skin. She looked really good on stage and out on the floor of the bar, but I had noticed that she had a lot of acne when I'd seen her under the brighter lights in the dressing room. After a few moments I asked Thad:
"Did you really tell her to put on makeup when she went out with you?"
"Yeah, I did." he responded. "She looked nasty without makeup. I almost threw my car into reverse when I got to her apartment on our second date and saw how bad she looked."
"How did she react when you told her that?" I asked him with genuine interest.
"She got kind of mad, but she did start wearting makeup." he said. "I didn't really like her that much though. I stopped seeing her."
All of a sudden that dancer's behavior made a lot more sense to me, and not just because it explained why she disliked me so much. I found myself realizing just how demoralized and miserable a person that she really was. It almost made me feel sorry for her. Why on Earth would a woman even go on another date with a man who ordered her to wear makeup, particularly a man she had just met? Evidently because she had no sense of self-confidence or self-worth at all, I concluded. That was just sad. I had spent my life filled with contempt and loathing for myself, but even I would not let some man tell me I had to wear makeup. No fucking way. Wow. That annoying dancer had a lot more problems than I had ever fathomed. I ruminated upon all this as I sat in the car with Thad. He could be a real dick. I knew that. Still, I was just blown away that she would listen to him at all and continue to have any interest in him whatsoever.
My memories of the annoying dancer resurfaced recently when I was doing a bondage shoot.
"Your face is kind of broken out." Marcus the photographer had told me. "I am going to put a big gag over it."
He gagged me with a scarf. We kept shooting. My mind had wandered back to Tucson, Arizona and I vaguely wondered what had become of that annoying dancer. I found that I could not even remember her name. Now I will forever think of her as "80 Grit".
Visit my Custom Video Theatre to watch the video Marcus shot that day: "Tanya in Bondage - clip 2"
- XXOO Tanya
3 comments:
You point out something that is so often true, the most mean and aggressive people are usually the most hurt and insecure. It is really wonderful that you are able to show compassion for someone who was so horrible.
Thanks for sharing this story.
Hi Tara,
Thanks for your comment. I just saw it for the first time right now. It does feel better to try and replace anger with compassion and understanding. Or at least to try and do so.
XO Tanya
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