Oh man. The thousands and thousands and thousands of dollars that I wasted…..*sigh* I could go down a deep rabbit hole of regret and torture but I choose not to. What good does it do? Those days are over, the crash of ’08 done already wiped out my bank accounts….my ex husband done already spent all the money….
Let’s back up.
My first night of dancing, I hadn’t yet quit my farming job. I had put in my two weeks, but I was still doing double duty, and let me tell you- that was two weeks of torture. I would work from 7-4 at the club, then go right from there, grab some fast food, and head straight to the farm, which was forty minutes away. Do the morning chores until about 10, then head home and crash until 3. What a life.
Dancing was such a new strange world which was sucking me in pretty fast, that it felt like I was going to a party every night. Which it was, really. And when you’re a new girl, and you’ve got that girl next door vibe….the money flows. My innocent ass didn’t know shit about being a dancer, so I barely had enough lingerie to throw together an outfit, and I didn’t even have a purse to carry when I was on the floor. My husband at the time hung out for a few hours the first couple of nights, and I would just run over to him and give him the money I had accumulated. I remember I had a jean skirt that I wore, which was just above the knees, and a checkered button up shirt. One bra. One pair of panties. It was a sad state of affairs, BUT the guys ate up my innocent ass. (Not really, I mean figuratively.)
Anyways, the first six months I made so much fucking money, I had never seen that kind of money. And I didn’t know what to do with it, so I just handed it over to my husband. Not that he didn’t know what to do with it, except spend it. He had a deep distrust of banks, and didn’t believe in saving. And did I mention he had restitution to pay, and would get a goddamned traffic ticket every fucking week. Thousands of dollars went to the Court and traffic system. Oh, and let’s not forget the custom NSX he drove to California to pick up.
See, now I’m mad. This is why I try not to go down this path. Okay, deep breath. When I get mad, I’m not mad at him. I’m mad at myself for going along with it, and how I didn’t stand up to the threat of violence behind everything. I wish I had had the strength to leave him sooner, but having gone through that, it gave me insight and understanding that I am actually grateful to have.
Anyways, long abusive relationship short, he basically become my pimp and I had to sneak money away. I get so mad when I think about how much I submitted to him. I hated that he didn’t want to save money, and he let bills go to right before they got sent to collections, which drove me nuts.
When I left him, I started saving and being much more financially responsible. But by then, the ’08 crash had happened, and the city I danced in had lost so many businesses, and business travel through. I was barely making enough to pay rent. Too bad I hadn’t stocked up on the good money before it ran dry.
When I stopped dancing, I had very little savings. My one blessing was that my credit hadn’t been fucked up, it just wasn’t very high.
Sometimes I wonder how much money I could have accumulated if I had been a single dancer, with a single clue. *sigh* Don’t go down that road, Amelia….
So if you’re deep in the game, don’t fuck up your money game like I did. If you’re partner is controlling your money against your will, you need to handle that situation. If you need help, please reach out and I’ll help you find your local hotline.