The Blog Propellant · writing

TBP Redux 8- Danseur


TBP

 

My mother was a single mom. She was always disappointed in me. I was the firstborn, the only born, and I wasn’t a girl. She wanted a girl. I’ll bet you can see where this is going, huh?

I got dolls and dollhouses as birthday presents. A pink bicycle with a white banana seat, a woven basket, and training wheels is one of the first Christmas presents, I can remember.  When I turned six, my mom enrolled me at ‘Angel Feet Ballet Academy’ in downtown Franklin. She also presented me with three sets of tights; one set a pastel blue, one was seafoam green, and the third was a bright yellow (the colour of Big Bird).

Fast forward about ten years, and I had become a pretty good dancer. While the other boys were trying out for football and lifting weights in the gym; I was trying out for parts in ‘Don Quixote’ and ‘La Bayader’ and lifting girls overhead.

When I was seventeen, I graduated from high school and got hired on as an ensemble dancer with the state corps de ballet. It came with a forty-week contract and was my first real job. It was pretty easy for me to get too. There are usually more women ensemble dancers required meaning more women get hired. There are not many men in that line of work, either. We toured back and forth across the state. We spent no more than one or two nights in any given city. I lived with and worked with women and girls. I lost my virginity after three days on the job.

I worked for the state ballet for three years. I was a corps dancer. I slept with scores of women, some young, some older, all with a similar body type. It was a great job with benefits that any young man would enjoy, but there’s not much room for advancement. An ensemble dancer, in those days, could make twenty to thirty thousand dollars a year. It was a respectable income, but for me, the lure was the girls, the women. I was one of only a few males in the business. I could talk to the girls about what they loved, dance. I got a lot of attention. Ah, but that was a long time ago.

In the hope of advancing my career, I danced in theatre, film and television. I was never well known. I chased skirts more than I worked, and I got old. Nothing lasts forever, eh?

These days I still dance. I make instructional videos that I sell online. I run an Arthur Murray Studio in the evenings. I continue to meet a lot of women. I still sleep with a lot of women, but these days they are mostly bored housewives. Women who are looking for someone to spend time with while their husbands travel for business. They press themselves up against me and grope my crotch. It’s just not the same.

Not the same at all.



This week’s prompts were:

  • What was the impact of the first job held?
  • What was it about the best job held that makes it stand out from the others?
  • What about a job that fell short of hopes, dreams or expectations?
  • The job lost: What was going on that lead to a dismissal, or what happened as a result?
  • The boss, colleagues, co-workers, business partners, customers, clients, guests…What about them?

10 thoughts on “TBP Redux 8- Danseur

  1. Very interesting… and very believable.

    It is a kind of a tragedy though when we know our parents think of us as a disappointment….
    Lack of encouragement can created a kind of independence that can leave one lacking full confidence.

    Liked by 1 person

      1. Even with minor successes – to be left as just a ‘toy’ instead of a treasure. But then I’ve been told I have a sensitive soul. Which I’m not sure all writers do. Some (perhaps like the big money makers or those that just pop out what people want to read) are more into the profession for fame or even just to feed themselves and their family.

        I think most of the writers I’ve met on the web net are sensitive folk. 🙂

        Liked by 1 person

  2. First, a WordPress glitch (?) FYI: The pingback came through, but the post itself did not show up in the Reader, at least, not in mine, which is where I go to find blogs I follow. If it seems this post is a little ignored, that might be the reason.
    I also got the sadness of his life. Not just at the end, but throughout his retrospection. Makes me wonder what his life would have been like if he had pushed back and set out to discover his person beyond his mother’s expectation, which is to say, it was well written because I thought about the character. I know a little of the ballet world, as a profession, and so the story also struck a few cords in that context as well.
    Happy post-Turkey!

    Liked by 1 person

      1. I thought it might be a crude form of censorship. People are sleeping together in this story. Might be just a glitch though. Hope your turkey was good.

        Liked by 1 person

      2. Hmmm. Possible, but WordPress is given to glitchiness from time to time. Like, this comment didn’t come through. My cornish game hen was very good! People popped in and out of the Zoom thing all afternoon, which was a pretty darn good approximation of a dinner party.

        Liked by 1 person

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