Not one but three impish lasses, frolic in suburbia knowing oh yes, they can do whatever they like. And they do, testing the boundaries of their surprisingly ever-growing power as women.
Blowing off shitty part time jobs in restaurants to revel and dance naked in a very ordinary land-locked backyard on blisteringly hot summer days under inviting garden sprinklers. Just for the girls, eighteen year old fun, invite only. And there were no invites.
Topless beach-side sunbathing was amusing too, knowing it teased their male acquaintances.
But their game was to pretend they didn’t realise the impact. Most often because they didn’t quite believe in themselves anyway.
Teasing and deciding they too, could behave as the boys and men did. Nonchalantly and bravely. Not looking for love. Use and discard as they desired. Easy and painless, they told themselves.
This was their world, where fun and sex pushed away other realities.
Men, they had if they wanted. But none were invited to these private parties, nubile paganish nudes, most pleased with themselves and the sense of freedom these little parties generated.
Rebelling perhaps, against the vanilla world they inhabited? Most likely. Completely at sea in their urbanite lives? Definitely.
Later, three bedrooms in that house were busy as they enjoyed their male playthings. But on their terms, when they chose, only.
Their attitude was arrogance, flippant fun and constant amusement. With scant thought for their own value.
But she was grateful to her sometime male lover, given her experience of sex to date was not pleasant. So surfer-dude C, a gentle non-masochistic sunny blonde, was a revelation.
Still, she wanted nothing more than the occasional dalliance, given her fractured sense of self.
When a friend of one of these hormone driven gals suggested a way to make fast money – serving beer topless – they weren’t perturbed in the least. Getting paid to tease men and give up nothing? Too easy.
One by one, they tested the waters.
She was last – first, she quit the final year of high school she was repeating. Bored, she had no direct ambition that made sense. So she quit, and started wearing little and earning a lot. Why not? It was so simple.
The location of that first gig is hazy now. Though, the pub’s interior is crystal clear. A central oblong circus ring shaped bar with dark coloured tiles, surrounded by reverential working class men.
The three of them were together, ring leaders of this event.
Her friends helped adjust her newly purchased g-string and tiny black satin shorts – all that she wore. She stepped into heels and make up. Then it was time.
Men were both lecherous and kindly. She knew nothing of serving alcohol, and learned on the hop. A shandy? A pot? A glass? Mixed drinks? The patrons mostly taught her the ropes, not minding an excuse to talk stare at her bare breasts a little longer.
The most memorable part of that day? Beer splashing on her breasts was cold but inevitable, and it made the men laugh.
~Svasti
Please note: I am writing here about the past, and mostly its in the past. I do this to help shine the light and illustrate where I was, and how I got to this point. This is no longer stuff that torments me.
Great post– very well done. And you dare to say you are just run-of-the-mill complicated? I think not.
Fantastic post, Svasti. I can totally relate/understand… I did nude modelling. Almost ended up in the ‘massage’ industry by mistake.
But there is some kind of power in doing these things which is only known/understood by the embodied experience & performance itself.
Svasti-
If you do one thing this week, please rent the movie “Dangerous Beauty” about the fabulous and dramatic life of a famed Venetian courtesan. It is fantastic and totally empowering in the way of your blog post. Please do it at once!
-RB
@tricia – Thank you. But seriously, I don’t think I’m any more or less fucked up than many other people.
@Amanda – The power is on the one hand, sort’ve a good thing. But on the other… its not real. And because its not real, it doesn’t really provide anything beneficial in the end.
@RB – Just checked my DVD rental service and they don’t seem to know about that movie. Will keep looking. Thanks for the reference. ๐
You’ve got me thinking about power here (and that Joe Jackson line: “when you’ve got power, then you use it for a while,” which is relevant to this post.) It’s a fleeting type of power and it fades. Hmmmm. Still thinking. (And yes, this is a great post, I have to agree with Tricia.)
I have a friend whose sister started exotic dancing almost twenty years ago. In the process she had a (painful) boob job (bigger breasts=better tips). I think at this point she has probably given it up, but I’m also not sure what her alternatives are.
@Jennifer – I can’t believe I never replied to your comment here. Definitely it is a power that fades and as is the case with all assumed powers (as opposed to those that come from being who you are), it fades for sure. I do hope your friend’s sister is doing okay these days. I’m sure she is!
I knew those “nubile paganish nudes, most pleased with themselves…” girls when I was in my teens and twenties. But then I was a nice guy. I needed to know all girls as friends, before any thought of romance, or carnal desire could be contemplated.
Then I went crazy and corrupt in my thirties, and eventually frightened and lost. I only started to feel myself again in my late 50’s. Now I am in my sixties, I once again see life and relationships as I did in back then my twenties.
Your writing is so impressive, it truly is like watching a film with flash-back scenes. Only you know if the experience was worth the pain.
For me it is not so much the inevitable scars, but the regret at loss and the time-waste of it all.
Only it didn’t seem a waste back then.
xhenry
@soulMerlin – It’s such a delicate and confused minefield, isn’t it? By that I mean growing up and coming to terms with sexuality. And some of us take many years to learn! Our instincts (like yours) may have been right all along but we suppress them because that’s not how our community says we’re meant to be. Or something like that. Those of us that do learn and come full circle are blessed – not everybody finds their way back to their own truth. I think as long as we do that, then nothing is wasted. Not really.
Thank you again for the compliments on my writing. It’s very kind of you! ๐
sorry my lap-top seems to be jumping lines and words tonight…I should have checked before I sent…
xh