Tuesday, August 18, 2015

Who is in Control? Promoters Bring Girls Into NYC Nightlife

I have been alive half a century, decades of living, making choices day by day.

I understand certainly that we all individually determine how we will live. I have made my choice. My children, friends, and relatives are making theirs.

But I am always learning something new and sometimes it is not a topic I want to know about. Like everyone else, I am being exposed to culture, or lack thereof.

So, until this past Sunday, I had never heard of a person being able to work for a promoter to hang out in NYC VIP clubs in so that men will pay $350 simply to enter these clubs. They do this because they hope to get a chance to “hook-up” with “beautiful” women. The females who work for promoters get money, free drinks, free food and to enjoy the night. The promoters get paid per female they bring into the club.

It breaks my heart that a young lady would willingly work in this NYC nightlife. So often we hear of people forcefully pimping other people into services like sex slaves, prostitutes or escort, but to know that a person has a choice, and chooses to live this way of life is beyond my comprehension. Yet, it is a lifestyle choice some people willingly make. 



Writing is the way I process, thoughts come to me and my fingers begin to move either along the keys or moving the pen. This is what I composed thinking about women who choose to party as a promoter girl:


Curves of metal pressed by machines stand as a guard to protect massive amounts of metallic moving vehicles from dropping off the mountain cliff. In life, where are our human guardrails? God places them all around, giving us proper boundaries but we push against them or even leap over to revel in what we imagine is more—more freedom—more living—more excitement. We are “spiritual” but choose not to believe in God, Satan, heaven or hell. Our definition of life is void of such archaic things. And by declaration, we make it so.

We don’t want anything pleasurable to be withheld, so we jump down into the pits, celebrating that we are among the few who are brave enough to live life to its fullest, not realizing we have sunken into miry decadence. And awakening from the parties, booze and hook-ups we wonder –why is life so empty? Why can’t we stay full? Our own voice echoes off the walls of the world we have chosen, not fathoming that we are imprisoned in a place we cannot easily escape.

Each step, each night, each dance, we proclaim its our freewill choice, not recognizing we are being used, exploited, exposed for others gain. And it feels good to be wanted, adored, and selected as a "very important person". We think we are in control but we are being played. Decorations in the flashy nightlife scene, pretending to be available, a possibility, or a potential date.

We don’t need it, we have our own means, but in a twisted way the power of our allure, the glamor of being promoted, we convince ourselves that we are the ones fulfilling own desires, being paid to get everything free. What a life! What a death to one’s soul! Expensive trinket we are roleplaying the fancy clothes, purses and stiletto heals were have adorn all our young lives. And like the latest fashion accessories we will eventually succumb to being tossed aside for next years trend. Yet while we can, while we are still hot, we tell ourselves that we are having the time of our lives.


Metal bars erect themselves in our psyche; they keep us in place, girls on display served up at tables like delectable selections upon sterling platters to the men with deep pockets and bankrupt souls. An image to keep--we all pretend that this sexual fantasy scene is real. A mirage no less visible than an oasis to the thirsting desert crawler hoping for a sip of real satisfying water to quench his greatest need: love, acceptance, and a stroke of self-esteem.

In this fast-moving world we agree to participate because nothing else can make us feel, left numb by a life we once tried to live but found too painful. No more being ripped apart in the heart, we delight to do the ripping, living out our wildest dreams among the world’s biggest players. We are kings and queens being moved about as pawns –willingly—all for the owner’s greed. In the end we make him rich in the commodity of human souls.