Marcus Is Drowning : Part 1

My manager tipped me off about Marcus. I’d been on my dinner break eating a large salad with buffalo wings when Keith came over and pointed out a middle aged man with tan skin and white hair. He wore a crisp white button down shirt and slacks. He looked like a rich uncle unwinding after work. After I finished eating, I decided to approach him without any expectations. Maybe he would fancy me, maybe I wasn’t his type. I walked over to him and asked if I could sit in his lap, and he agreed affably. Marcus looked at me with a warm yet scrutinizing expression. He wrapped his arms around me in a supportive hug and asked me what I like to do “outside of this”. It’s one of those questions that can make or break your sale. It’s important to demonstrate your passion because passion is intoxicating. Luckily, I’m a person with endless reserves of passion. I talked a bit about my projects, including the writings I produce here, and he remarked that writing was once something he had been passionate about, but unfortunately he had fallen out of practice because of work and life.

Him: I want to hear more about your work. Can I take you for a half-hour just to talk? I don’t have as much cash on me as usual for a nice tip. Is $100 enough?

It was enough, especially just for talking. I agreed and led him to a half-hour box. I was nearing the end of my work day, which had been surprisingly lucrative for a day-shift. Ending with a half-hour chatting sounded amazing. Marcus took off his white button down and laid it on the couch for me to sit on. He had on a white undershirt, so he was still fully clothed.

Him: I always feel so bad for you girls, having to sit on these couches with nothing on to protect you.

I was a bit hesitant to sit my vulva on his shirt. It looked especially pristine, and I didn’t know what color my discharge was that day. I obliged however, after he insisted, and we began the session. He started interviewing me about my life. He wanted to know about my beliefs, my current projects, my motivation, everything that might help him understand what makes me tick. His appetite for the source of my life force was voracious. He bought another half-hour with me and we continued talking. He sat beside me and never made a move to touch me, aside from to rub my shin when I was visibly cold. It was a fatherly touch, in spite of the context of him: a man, purchasing private rooms with me: a naked woman. I enjoyed talking to him, in part because there aren’t many occasions in the club when it’s appropriate for me to go in depth about myself. Most conversations are cursory, but by the end, I felt like Marcus knew me better than many clients I’ve known for over a year.

After the second half-hour, I decided to leave. I had a feeling that Marcus would have bought more time together, but I needed to get to yoga. Since he wanted to read my writing, I gave him my Instagram handle. I hoped he would follow the link in my bio to my Patreon and support me, but it wasn’t a necessity. I simply enjoy sharing my writing with certain clients because I’ve gotten a lot of thoughtful reactions. Nobody who has read my work has told me they disliked my writing, but a lot of people have admitted that it’s caused them to meditate on their own motivations and where they fall within the spectrum of men I’ve reviewed.

I don’t know how far back he went, but when I saw Marcus Thursday evening, he knew quite a lot about me. It got him pensive and introspective about himself and his place in the strip club. How did he compare with other men I’d written about? Did he see himself in some of them? What was his motivation to have sustained this ritual for so many years? I didn’t want to dissuade him from being there. Of course, I had my own selfish desire to continue seeing him for monetary reasons, but aside from that I wanted to reinforce that strip clubs aren’t inherently bad. There are many things that are unfair and could be reformed with regulation and unionization, but I don’t believe strip clubs have to be places where everyone feels exploited. They can be places to explore yourself; to come of age; to have company; to be touched and held; to confide secrets; and many other great things. But for Marcus, I soon realized the club was something closer to an obsession.

I don’t remember exactly how we got onto the topic, but I think I’d said something like “Now you know so much about me, yet I know almost nothing of you.”

Him: Why don’t we do an hour and you can ask me whatever you’d like?

Me: Perfect.

I was excited to begin my shift with a generous start, but I was unprepared for what Marcus expected. He was excited for his interview, and wanted me to bring a wealth of questions to the table. But trouble was that I wasn’t as interested in learning about him as he was in learning about me. He looked at me expectantly with his warm, yet intelligent smile.

Him: Ask away.

I couldn’t put my finger on why I wasn’t bubbling with questions for him until a couple of days later as I reflected on the exchange. It wasn’t that he hadn’t lived an interesting life, or that I didn’t want to learn about him. Instead of curiosity, I felt an impending sense of disappointment, like no matter what I asked, I would likely not touch upon the core of what he wanted me to understand. I had to come up with something, but I was nervous I would fall short. After a nervous pause, I asked

Me: You have two daughters?

Him: Yes, Laura and Katie. Katie is about your age, I think. How old are you again?

Me: I’ll be twenty-seven next week.

Him: Early happy birthday!

Me: Thank you.

Him: My wife, Carol and I raised two beautiful girls.

Me: Are you two married now?

Him: Yes, we are.

Me: Wow, that’s amazing.

Him: Thank you.

Me: You and your wife have been together for what, almost thirty years now?

Him: Actually closer to thirty-five.

Me: Wow, that’s such a long time.

Him: Thank you. It is. We met when I was twenty-six, and then a year later Laura was born.

Me: What’s Carol like?

Him: Oh, she’s a fiercely positive person, no matter what happens. She got to be that way after battling breast cancer. She’s always positive, very active, never holds onto anything. Great mom.

Me: That’s cool.

Him: What else?

Me: You said you got married at twenty-six and then a year later you had your first daughter?

Him: Yes.

Me: That’s a lot of responsibility for someone so young.

Him: It was, although I didn’t think about it that way at the time.

Me: Sounds like a lot of sacrifices.

Him: Yeah. I gave up drinking when Laura was born. I thought it was what I had to do. My parents taught me that being a parent meant that I came second, which I know isn’t true, but that’s what I believed at the time.

Me: Why did you feel you needed to give up alcohol?

Him: I’m a social alcoholic. I remember the last time I drank I was at the baby shower for Laura. Everybody was drinking. I drank with my brother-in-laws. It was right before Carol’s mom died. She’d been dealing with a lot of medical problems before, but it was still sudden, and right before Carol’s due date. Carol was really close to her mom. I felt like it was what I needed to do.

Me: That’s really difficult, losing her mom-- and I imagine she didn’t really have time to mourn because she’d just given birth. I mean, who has time with a newborn?

Him: You’re right. She’s an endlessly positive person, but it was hard for. It didn’t help that her sisters moved away a year after. One sister moved up to Washington and the other moved to North Carolina. I think that was almost harder for her.

Me: She lost her mother and then she lost her support structure. It sounds lonely, like she only had you after they left.

Him: I think you’re right. She got closer with her dad, but it was a rough time for her. She didn’t understand why they left the family home. But she doesn’t hold onto things like I do.

Me: You hold onto anger?

Him: Oh yeah. Always have. Laura takes after Carol, thankfully, but unfortunately Katie takes after me. One time, Katie was very upset at us for something, and I could just see her holding onto it. I called her, I said, “Stop it, Marcelline!” and she responded, “My name isn’t Marcelline!” and I said, “Well, why are you acting like me?” I could see she thought about it, and walked away. With Laura, she’ll yell at you to your face and be over it, but with Katie you’ll never know why. It upsets Carol. She came home from the grocery store the other day, fuming after she bumped into Katie. “I saw our daughter for the first time in weeks! I had to run into her at the grocery store to hear from her, can you believe it? You’d think she would call us, or god forbid, stop by for a visit!” I told her calmly, that our daughter has her own life. She’s a busy woman now. It took me a while to get to this point. I had to learn to let our daughters have their own lives. Carol believes children have an obligation to their parents, it’s just the way she was raised.

Me: It’s hard not to expect of your children what was expected of you.

Him: It is. What else?

Again he locked in on me with his expectant gaze. I didn’t quite know where to explore next. A few questions had popped up as he was talking, but they evaded me as soon as he asked.

Me: Um… You said you were twenty-six when you got married?

Him: I was.

Me: How old was Carol?

Him: She’s six years older than me, so she was thirty-one.

Me: Oh, gotcha. That’s not much older, but developmentally, I feel like there’s a lot of maturation that happens in your twenties. I was going to say that twenty-six is young to decide you want to get married and have children, but I could understand her knowing that that was what she wanted at thirty-one.

It’s impossible for me to imagine myself with a child at this point. While I have little doubt I could parent a child, the notion of choosing to become a parent at this age isn’t even a consideration. I’m twenty-six, and next week I’ll be twenty-seven, the same age Marcus was when Laura was born.

Him: I think my dad thought the same thing. When I told him I was getting married, he gave me a look like he was disappointed in me. Looking back, I think he was worried about me getting married so young, because it was exactly what he did. And he had a lot of regrets. Of course, as soon as he met Carol, he told me I’d made the right decision, because she was perfect for me. But I know he held onto a lot of regrets. He used to say, “I gave up everything to raise you and your brothers!” I didn’t understand. I’d say that nobody had told him he had to give up everything for us. But now, as a parent, I get it.

Me: Being a parent involves a lot of sacrifices. Do you feel like you had to give up a lot?

Him: Definitely.

Me: Like what?

Him: Well, I told you about drinking... There were other things too, like I belonged to a community soccer league but I gave it up for them. I don’t want it to sound like all I did was give things up. Raising my daughters is maybe my proudest accomplishment.

Me: Of course, it’s never just one thing. You give and receive.

Him: What else?

Me: Does Carol know you come here?

Him: I think she does, but we’ve never talked about it. You know how women know.

It’s a strange thing, intuition. Would I know if my partner was cheating? Would I decide to link clues together or would I decide to remain in blissful ignorance?

Me: I guess, sure.

Him: There was one time when she asked me indirectly. She said, “Marcus, will we be able to cover our bills?” and I brushed her off saying of course, but she insisted and asked again, “No really, can we afford our bills?” like she knew. I would never jeopardize our finances like that.

I tried to imagine being in Carol’s place, noticing large sums of money disappearing. I’d probably think my husband had a gambling addiction or was paying for a mistress. I don’t know if I’d connect it to paying to see strippers. I’d probably want to believe it was gambling, so at least I’d be dealing with an addiction, not love or lust. But oddly I realized, the truth of the situation seemed to be that what Marcus was looking for was something different.

Him: Usually I don’t look back on what I’ve spent, but I remember one time, after I stopped seeing Hannah, I checked my books to see how much I’d spent, and I realized it was around $100,000, over the span of a year. I thought, well, that’s the reason I don’t have a Porsche.

Me: Porsches don’t provide touch or human connection. And then, who’s it for? To show off to people? What does that do for you?

Him: You’re right. What else?

Me: How would your wife react if she knew?

Him: Oh... She would divorce me and make sure she took everything. She’d be so angry.

Me: I wonder... Why do you think she would react that way, with vengeance?

Him: She’s not a vengeful person.

Me: But, I mean to immediately leave you and take half of everything, that sounds like a form of revenge.

Him: She isn’t like that.

Me: Then why do you think she would react like that?

I asked because I didn’t think she would in the end, unless she was unhappy for other reasons. To me, it sounded like Carol was utterly dedicated to her family, even at the cost of her own happiness at times. After losing her mother and the company of her sisters, I imagined she would hold onto her husband of over thirty-five years, even in the wake of such a dark secret coming to light. But I didn’t know her. I only knew her through Marcus’ clues.

Meanwhile, Marcus was shaking. We were sitting facing each other and I held his hands in my lap. I could feel him trembling, trying to restrain his emotions as I probed him to understand the most dire scenario he could imagine.

Him: Because she would feel betrayed and want to get out, and feel like I owed it to her. And she’s right.

Me: I’m not trying to attack her. I just wanted to know why you thought she would react like that.

Him: I’m very protective of my wife. She’s an amazing woman.

Me: I believe that. How does she feel about strip clubs?

Him: She would probably think I should be doing something more worthwhile with my time than hanging out with strippers.

Me: It sounds like she doesn’t really see strippers as human.

Him: Maybe you’re right.

Me: The funny thing is that it doesn’t seem like you come here for what most men do. If she knew what you came for--

Him: She wouldn’t understand.

Me: How did you start coming here?