One Saturday night in the neon glow and blur of a drunken karaoke performance, there was “Jorge.” He was happily shoving a hundred dollar bill in my cleavage as I bent down and screeched the lyrics of a song in his face. My dancing and singing on the bar wasn’t unusual; it was sadly typical. The patrons at the bar would simply move their drinks, and watch the spectacle. I wasn’t alone in the bar dancing. There were a few others that would get up there and strut their wasted lyrically and vocally challenged selves in hopes to just get people stirred up, or a free drink.
Once I finished my song and dance, I sat next to him, ordered us around, and made some small talk. He asked my name, and after I had introduced myself, he said that he’d just call me China Doll, because he thought I was a pretty as one of those porcelain dolls that he’d buy his mother. He told me he’d never see a face even similar to mine and asked about my ethnic background. I told him that my mother was Korean, and my father is German, Irish, and Apache. He then marveled at what an odd mix that seemed to be and smiled. I nodded in agreement and then he came to me with a proposition which I ultimately took.
Jorge was a nearly 60 something Polish/Spanish guy with a great smile and a friendly demeanor about him. He was recently separated, and dealing with all of the things that come with divorcing a materialistic, gold digging woman 15 years his junior. He had a daughter whom at the time was 11 years old, and he was forbidden to have contact with via the wishes of his wife. He asked what I did for a living, and I told him that I had a telemarketing job in the city selling credit card readers to new businesses. He then said that he too was in sales but for automotive software, and asked if I’d had any plans that following weekend. I told him no, knowing that I never knew what I was doing from one day to the next, and he asked if I would accompany him to a holiday dinner with his colleagues. He then proceeded to tell me that he would cover all of the expenses of my hair, nails, cosmetics, and whatever else it was that I needed and with no strings attached. He simply wanted a woman’s company to enjoy, and I seemed like I’d be interesting. I was in no position to turn down the nail or hair job as I’d start to look a little rough around the edges, so I agreed.
This arrangement went on for a few months, maybe closer to a year until I decided to go back home to visit, ultimately moving back to central Illinois. During this run with Jorge he would foot all of my bills for the hair and nail salon on a weekly basis, gave me a cash allowance for whatever I needed, and would take me shopping for new clothes, cosmetics or whatever my little heart desired just so that he’d have company on the weekends. He even paid for my coke habit and would partake never letting me use anything less than a $100 bill to snort the snow with. I was drinking heavily, and getting my fix all for free. I was pampered in the way of designer bags, shoes, and clothes as well as properly maintained fingers, toes, and skin. I at times didn’t even pay for my rent or phone because he’d simply give me the cash to take care of it.
While I seemingly enjoyed the lifestyle of partying all of the time, I was in no hurry to be like Ashton Kutcher and Demi Moore. If ever Jorge asked where I’ve been all his life, I could say that I hadn’t been born before the first two-thirds of it were over without being comical in any way. I had all that I needed to look great and had learned enough about the trains and buses in the city that I simply outgrew the need for him to cart me around and take me out. I had money put away that I hadn’t had to spend, and I knew just exactly what I wanted to do with it. I wanted to charm someone; I wanted to fall in love and be loved, as well as still have the party girl lifestyle at night. I longed for someone who could keep up, whom I desired to have lots of intoxicated sex with. I wanted someone to make love to and cook dinner for. I wanted someone to go for walks on the beach with, someone to have legitimate conversations with sans the copious amounts of cocaine, whiskey, and vodka. I wanted to be wanted because, despite all of the attention, I was still lonely.