Subject: The Boy and The Willow

DOUG LEE-->  and then we're standing outside in the dark and 
cold and she's in my arms weeping and looking into my eyes and 
I think I've promised her the sun, the stars, and the moon.

ALS-->  It's tough to deal with, you know, tears of a Goddess.  
Great for the Ego, dangerous for the Soul.

Why was she weeping, Doug?

Something tells me she's had a hard/unhappy life and she sees, 
in you, stability, security, and someone to just hold her 
tight.  That isn't all bad.  Sometimes us guys like to be 
counted on.  In the end, it becomes painful, but healthy.  I 
can honestly say that my past relationships with Dancers have 
taught me more about myself than any other.  

*****

In November of 1986, when I was 22, I met her at the MB, yes, 
the MB.

DELIA (real name), 18, French Basque/Chinese, 5'9", 125, 
straight brunette chin length hair, light blue eyes, 35C-25-
34, non-smoker, non-drinker, non-drug user
 
She handed her phone # to my friend, Aaron, and told him to 
give it to me.  This was only the second time I saw her, the 
1st time being 2 days before, and it was only her 3rd day 
working.  We were regulars but not big spenders, just avg. 
tippers and we kept a low profile.

Anyhow, my 1st thoughts were "jesus fuckin' christ, she's not 
serious is she?".  So I called her.  We met and talked a few 
times at the club between her rounds.  I never had her 
"company", she didn't want to give me any.

The first time we went out, we had dinner at the Cliff House 
in SF.  After dinner we stood out by the water arm-in-arm and 
watched the Ocean crash against the rocks.  She, like Ashley, 
started to weep a little.  I thought to myself, "Why is she 
weeping?  She's always been confident, happy, and focused in 
all of our meetings at the club."  She laughed, with 
affection, at nearly everything I said to her.

Delia wouldn't tell me for the longest time what the cause of 
her tears were and I didn't press her about it.  I just 
figured that maybe she just needed to let it out on occasion 
due to her job.  I got a certain level of gratification out of 
her weeping in my arms.

I kept telling myself, "I can't believe this girl likes me
that much".  My inner Ego fuse was lit, and in retrospect, it 
clouded my judgment.

[my thoughts at this point: she digs me, she wants me, she 
loves me, and only me, she's the happiest woman on earth 
because of me.]

As time went by, she would reveal little hints about her life 
now and then, every few weeks or so: Dysfunctional family, 
battered mother, runaway from Las Vegas, on her own since age 
15, scared of her uncertain future, and how stripping makes 
her forget all of that.

With each little hint, my inner Ego grew bigger.  I made one 
simple promise to her "if you ever need me, call me."  
Whenever she called, which was everyday, I dropped everything 
to be with her.  I was never at a loss with cheerful words of 
wisdom, and they were in high demand.

Delia - Will you ever get tired of always having to cheer me 
        up?
ALS - No, Delia, never.  My incentive is your happiness.

[my feelings at this point: I love her, I'd marry her, I'll 
make life easy for her, there's nothing I wouldn't do for her, 
I'll make her happy for once in her life, for the rest of her 
life.]

The sex was outrageous!!  100% emotionally driven, 100% of the 
time!  Never any talking.  I was addicted to the fact that her 
orgasms were filled with such deep emotions.  There was NEVER 
a time when Delia didn't cry during orgasm.

ALS - Delia, why do you cry every time we orgasm?
Delia - I have to.  It makes me forget about work.

[my state of mind: WOW! It's got to be me! She'd marry me in a 
flash.]

Her emotions were so intense during sex, even I started to 
shed tears during my orgasms in the latter stage of our 
relationship.  They were tears of gratification, or so I 
thought.

ALS - But I thought stripping made you forget all your other 
      problems.
Delia - It does.  It's always been a fantasy of mine to be 
        desired by a lot of men.  But I still need something 
        to shut that out, too, and sex is all I have left.  
        But, stripping also makes me sick of sex.
                
On Thanksgiving of '87, all of a sudden her life seemed so sad 
to me.  Without warning, I slammed into the wall.  I was lost 
for ideas on how to cheer her up, mentally drained, numb.  
Subsequently, the sex started to take the life out of me.  I 
began to understand her tears during sex, for I, too, would 
cry for the endless sorrow that flowed through her veins.

For Delia, there was never "joy" to our sex.  It was a 
temporary escape from her insecurities.

The emotional wear and tear on me had gradually become so 
heavy, I couldn't sleep, I always felt tired, and even after 
eating a large meal, I always felt hungry.  I especially 
remember Christmas of 1987.  I felt so tired, empty, helpless, 
blank, void, all around unhealthy.

Not to mention my total CONFUSION regarding her circle of 
emotions: Stripping made her forget her troubles.  Sex made 
her forget how much she hated stripping.  Stripping made her 
sick of sex.

In January of 1988, I had to end it.  Disaffection had taken 
roots, and at the tender age of 24, so had impatience and 
intolerance.

Money was never a part of it.  I kind of wish it was.  It 
might have lightened the emotional sacrifice.  Delia never 
wanted to eat at nice places, shop, or even go outside much.

I hated her for quite some time afterwards, "how could she do 
this to me, rob me of my heart and soul during the prime of my 
life!"

I can't believe that her sadness so easily exposed my 
vulnerability.

1)She really loves me, and I really love her.
2)She'll always need someone to lean on & my ego loves being 
  that someone.

#1 was the cloud that masked reality.  #2 was the reality.

This relationship taught me to be a little more patient, a 
little more tolerant, and a little more compassionate towards 
people in general.

Delia is now 28, married for 4 years, 2 boys (2 & 4), one more 
son on the way, lives in Benicia CA, works part-time downtown 
SF.  I still run into her on occassion in the City.  I can 
still see the pain in her eyes, and her two sons don't ever 
look very happy either.  The family life isn't making her as 
happy and fulfilled as she had hoped.

Now, older and wiser(?), I remind myself - I don't regret ever 
having gone through that.  I wouldn't trade it for anything, 
not even for whatever it was that I might have missed out on 
during that part of my life.

For the both of us, the pain stemmed from Fantasy becoming 
Reality.  I've grown beyond the veil of "Fantasy is my 
deserved Fate".  Sadly, I feel like Delia is still searching.

I actually consider that whole experience healthy, though it 
still hurts to remember it...

..and the heart never forgets.
ALS