A knockabout life

I was partying with an ex-cop and a runaway preacher’s wife at 5am on a random weekday.

The preacher’s wife and I met at a Manhattan gentleman’s club where we both worked as dancers. She never wanted to be a preacher’s wife; it was a life forced upon her. She grew up in a part of the US where people interpreted the Bible literally, word for word. When she was 19, her parents called a meeting with the family that lived next door. The adults announced that God had spoken to them and decided that she and the boy next door were to marry. He would become a preacher, and she would take on all the responsibilities demanded of a preacher’s wife.

It wasn’t terrible. She even enjoyed some parts of the job, particularly counseling the wayward teenage girls in her community. But after many years of living a life she never chose for herself, she decided, “fuck this.” She got some tattoos, bought herself a juicy pair of boobies and moved to New York to become a stripper. Her plan was to “fuck around for a year’’ and then figure out what she really wanted to do with her life.

The Universe facilitated her plan by introducing her to me. I was all about ‘’fucking around.’’ I was 35 and felt sure that my next step would be marriage and kids. Growing up, I’d been told by my mother and grandmother and countless other women to “do everything you want to do before getting married and having kids.’’ I was told that once I had children, “life would change.’’ I was taught to view having kids as the end of my journey and the beginning of devoting myself to the next generation. So by 35, I approached life like someone on death row.

When I started dancing at 31, I felt so grateful for the abundance of money AND free time my new lifestyle provided. I figured this couldn’t last forever and dedicated myself to savoring every moment. I said yes to every invitation and every new experience that came my way. Wouldn’t you do the same if you only had a few years left to live?

Stripper life connected me with lots of other women who were also hell-bent on making the most of their freedom. We traveled together, explored New York together and generally whooped it up around the clock. In our quiet moments, we had intimate talks. I loved these women and formed powerful bonds with them.

Anyway, the preacher’s wife and I met the ex-cop at work one night. He was our customer and we entertained him for several hours. At 4am, closing time, we were having too much fun to simply go home. So I invited them back to my apartment for after-hours cocaine and conversation.

We sat in a circle on my furry living room rug and kept the party going. There’s nothing I love more than shooting the breeze with people who’ve had totally different experiences from me. I had a lot to learn from an ex-policeman and a former preacher’s wife.

I won’t go into the details, but apparently there are some crimes that actually DO pay. There are specific types of criminals that aren’t worth pursuing because of red tape, bureaucracy, blah blah blah. That’s why our customer became disillusioned with the police force and quit. I’d never imagined a policeman talking like this. It was an eye-opening moment for me.

But my most powerful takeaway from that late-night coke-fueled conversation happened when our new ex-cop friend said, “When people look at us, they don’t see a person. They only see the uniform.’’

I immediately felt terrible. I was 1OO% guilty of not seeing police officers as human beings.

I moved to Manhattan just after my 24th birthday and got myself a job as a bartender at a cozy Italian restaurant on the Upper West Side. One night, I was talking to one of my customers and expressed my discomfort with the police presence in the city. I’d moved to New York from Greenwich, CT, where you didn’t see large groups of policemen standing around watching everyone. But in Manhattan, it seemed like there were always packs of cops staring at me. It made me feel uncomfortable. Was I doing something wrong? I asked my middle-aged male customer, “Why are all these cops always staring at me?’’

He chuckled at my naïveté. “They’re checking you out, Suzanne.’’

I hadn’t even considered that possibility. I didn’t see the police officers as men. I only saw their uniforms.

I’m a big fan of sobriety now. And not because I was ever an addict. I was never a drug addict. I just really enjoy having a clear, sharp mind. I love never feeling hungover. It’s wonderful to have lots of physical energy to put into my ballet classes. I find that drugs and alcohol are super draining and I don’t want to feel drained.

But I went through a phase where I did lots of drugs, particularly cocaine because it’s the perfect stripper drug. It helped me be the life of the party til 4am. And I appreciated how it got people talking and sharing and revealing things they might not otherwise have revealed. That’s what I enjoyed about it.

Please don’t take this story as inspiration to stay up all night snorting drugs. I don’t recommend it. What I do recommend is talking to people whose lives are completely different from your own. My life feels so rich because of all the intimate conversations I carry around in my heart.

By the way, if you’re wondering what became of the preacher’s wife after her year on the pole — she returned to living a life of service. Only this time she’s happy in her role because she chose it herself. She serves a community that no one seems to care about. The work can be grueling, but it’s deeply satisfying. Her family is proud of her.

Originally published on Medium in 2023