My husband and i were the best
"night club security couple"
In Toronto, Canada.
Working as a bouncer with my husband
at Big Bob’s night club.
Winter came and left, and we were still scrounging trying to pay our bills. Andraggon had not stopped looking for a place for both he and I to work together as bouncers. Chris, the Caucasian bouncer who had a thing for the “sisters”, came to our rescue. He had been working as a bouncer at a nightclub called Big Bob’s, which was located at the corner of Bathurst Avenue and Queen Street. This was one main intersection where I had worked with my husband, and Chris (along with other bouncers) doing Scott’s parties, and another main street down from Stardust’s bar.
Both my husband and I had passed Big Bob’s many times, therefore, on our way to Andy’s place, but we had never set foot inside it. But many nights when we had rode past that venue on the Queen street car, we often saw people lined up outside stretching around the block on the sidewalk of Bathurst Street, and we often smiled at how this place must be doing something right to have those kinds of long line so many different nights. We never thought, however, that we would end up looking for work there, or even find ourselves working there. Chris was having problems working at this club after a number of months of being there.
He had recently started a full time job working as a telephone operator for a large company, and he was also working the afternoon shift, which often meant that he would have to either miss some shifts at Big Bob’s or leave his regular job a few hours earlier. He chose to leave his job at the club. And when he did, he arranged for my husband, and I, to go down to see the owner of the club, and speak to him about the possibility of us both working there. He also told my husband that he would put in a good word for him.
Though I could not stand Chris, because of how he acted like a dog in heat, and had even tried to go after me, at different times, I realized that he and my husband were simply going through the process of paying and repaying karmic debts that they owed to each other.
Chris had helped my husband to get a job at the Chinese Karaoke bar, Sweet Dreams, a few years earlier. Then my husband had helped him to get a job working for him at Scott’s parties, and also working for him at Andy’s bar. Chris later helped Andraggon to get a job working at this other bar where most college students went, and he was assisting my husband to help him to get work at Big Bob’s.
Life often works in circles of favors like that for most people. When they reach out to help another that person in turn often turns around in the future and returns the favor. The same hand that turns around and thanks you for scratching its back today is often the same one that will come up behind you and scratch your back tomorrow at a time when you most need it. My husband and I joined Big Bob’s security staff in the summer of 1999.
We were now working together again, and this time, we intended to make sure that we were not separated as a team by anyone, whether it was for work, or while we were at work. This was going to be a new challenge for us, and one that would test our strength and endurance and loyalty and patience as bouncers, and especially as a husband and wife team in an environment that did not take took kindly about having a married couple working as door security partners.
There were no other husband and wife team that we knew of who were working as bouncers together in any of the nightclubs downtown. Most bouncers were usually young men with big egos, and big muscles, who had a habit of using their brawn more often than they used their brain, or even their heart, while they are working in the entertainment district.
Most bouncers were also working mostly in these entertainment districts on the weekends to earn some extra money doing a part-time job, and they generally chose this line of work in order to show off their muscles to impress other guys, and especially to entice every female they can, with the hope of sleeping with her in the near future. That was the image my husband had of them, and he had been around other bouncers for many years; and he had also been that same kind of meat hunting bouncer for female flesh for most of those years.
Though I had only been a bouncer for less than two years myself, I had also met enough of these male bouncers on the job; and I had to agree with my husband that he was right about his view of the image that he had formed of most of his fellow bouncers, including himself.
I had also seen bouncers since the 1970’s, at different events that Andraggon and I had gone to, especially to go dancing, where they were used at the door and inside different nightclubs. And most of the time when you saw one bouncer in action, you have seen them all. They were like carbon copies of each other as they went about flexing their bodies, and throwing their weight around, thinking that they were intimidating the guys and impressing the girlfriends of these guys.
When I started working at Big Bob’s, I knew that it was not going to be a picnic or a walk in the park. My husband knew it just as much as I did, and he was as worried about working in that environment with me as I was disturbed about us having to work anymore as bouncers.
Neither of us wanted to work in that meat market environment any longer, and we both felt that way for different reasons. Andraggon did not want to do or say anything, especially to any female working there, or even those coming there to party, that would cause me to feel anymore emotional pain or mental anguish than he had already spent most of our lives together putting me through.
He was scared, and it was not the patrons or the staff members that he was really fearful of. He was terrified of himself, of the abusive person that he had been to me all these years, and still continued to be, though he was no longer as abusive as he use to be. But he knew painfully well that he had really injured me, even though he never left any physical marks or bruises on me, because the injuries he inflicted on me were internal, and hidden beneath the clothes of my skin.
He did not know how badly he had mangled my heart, or how severely he had ruptured and destroyed my peace of mind. But my soul mate had come to realize that the damage he had done to my very being had caused my body to give up the ghost, and died many times, including the few times I had died in his arms, and he did not even know it intellectually though he sensed it intuitively.
The memories of what he had done to me – of how he had used the bodies, and the very presence of other women, and other females to attack my mind, and traumatized my own body – were now haunting him like demons from his past, who had finally come home to roost with him.
And it not only scared him, but it also was starting to damage his own peace of mind, and attack his own health, very much like the way he had caused mine to be. I sympathized with my husband, but I did not feel sorry for him. I was not the one who created those problems for him – he did that all by himself for years with the help of a whole Society, that kept telling him that what he was doing to me was something that he had a right to do to me, as a man, and as my husband. His mother, and other family members had also encouraged him to harm me, even coaxed him to try to get him to beat me up physically, and some of them had called themselves born again Christians.
They were born again all right. But it was not the kind of rebirth that they had in mind. For any of them to have any chance of righting the nasty wrongs they had committed against me, and pressured my soul mate to do to me, they would have to be born again, in new bodies as mortal beings, time and time again until they had paid for their crimes, and learned the wisdom not to do it again to any other mortal being in the future. And that was not just my law as a God. It was one of the laws of the Cosmos, and those ancient laws are eternal as time itself.
At the same time that my husband was traumatized by the memories of all the cruel things he had done to me, over the years, I was even more devastated than he could ever be by what he had done to me. I did not know if I would able to cope with having to work with him in a place like Big Bob’s, with all those females throwing themselves at any man that they could find. Male bouncers were special targets for them, especially when they were of African Canadian ancestry, particularly for females of European heritage.
Or as my husband use to say: “White women have a thing for big black male bouncers, like we were some kind of exotic pet whose loins and ego they can play with anytime that they want to.” I knew exactly what he meant even though I would never use color to describe or define any person or any race of people.
Mortal beings can never be defined by the color of the skin of their bodies, nor can they be truly defined by any of the physical qualities that help to form anything about the mortal lives they live, or even anything about the physical world that they live in. Those physical qualities are just structures in which they live, and experience mortal lives, and have nothing to do with the true spiritual qualities of the beings that they really are behind all those physical forms and shapes.
The only “white” people I have ever seen in my life, on this Earth, are those persons who are called Albinos, because their skin color is so drained of dark pigment that they are practically white. And these people are found in all races, not just the European or African ones.
The only other “white people” that I have heard of, who have been spotted in this world are not even considered people who are any longer members of this world because they are ghosts. And they are former members of every race on Earth. So I do not identify, or even define European people by their skin color as being white people. Nor do I do that for people of any of the other races on Earth. That’s because there are no mortal beings whose skin color is really black, or red, or yellow, or brown as people have a habit of calling the different races of people of color living on this planet.
That is the reason why I do not speak of any human being as being a black person or a white person or a yellow man or a red woman or a brown child, and so on. Beings come in different shapes of different colors when they come to live in mortal bodies on Earth, or in any other planet or dimension in the Cosmos. They are beings, who are made of pure and living and radiant light, and they dress themselves in different clothes of flesh and bones as members of different races and genders and species.
As I God, what I see when I look at any being are the qualities of the radiance of their own spirit, and how much or little it is covered with different layers and blotches of deformed patterns of thinking and twisted forms of behavior. But I do not ignore the fact that I am among a race of human beings who have been led to define themselves by the color of their skins instead of by the quality of their character as my brother Martin Luther King Jr. so eloquently put it.
And I was not going to ignore the truth about what my husband had said about male bouncers of African descent being a special source of interest for women and girls of European ancestry, when they went to nightclubs to party, for instance. I really did not know if I was going to be able to tolerate having other females coming onto my husband, while I was right there next to him, as we both were working as club security staff for Big Bob’s.
But I knew that I had to be there with him. We needed the money to help to keep our family alive, and to keep us from being thrown out of our rented home and onto the streets to live again. I did not mind doing exactly that, as I have already made clear to my family. But I knew that it was the last thing that they wanted for us to be forced to do again, and I respected their feelings about that, even though I did not agree with my husband’s lack of vision, for wanting to keep us from going through that revolving door of eviction and homelessness and starting over again.
I also knew that I would go crazy with worry and fear if I stayed at home, and allowed my husband to work alone, with all these promiscuous females throwing themselves at him, and any bouncer they could entice, and with him lapping up that attention, and having other bouncers who was just as promiscuous, coaxing him to play even more.
I had gone through years of that kind of torture, of having to stay at home while he was out at work in those nightclubs playing with every female he could get his unfaithful hands on. And it had killed me over and over and over. I was not going to go through that nightmare again. And at this point in my mangled life, I did not feel that I would be able to survive any more of these kinds of emotional attacks and mental injuries from my disloyal, and still somewhat promiscuous husband.
When we started working at this busy nightclub, near the edge of the heart of the entertainment district in downtown Toronto that was the emotional and mental state that both my husband and I were in. We were both stressed to the point of being traumatized.
He was, for the immoral crimes he had committed against my heart and my very being with the help of other females that he used to cheat on me with. And which were haunting him, as he strives to recover from being a passive abuser, and a married bachelor, so that he could rehabilitate his twisted way of thinking, and his perverted (or macho) way of living. And i was, because of how damaged and injured I was from all the wrongs that he had done to me, and from being a victim who was still living with her abuser, and whom I had still given my heart and soul to.
True, I was a God, and I was suppose to be above being touched in that way by any mortal being, because the love I have is also one of a higher kind. But I was also a God who was living life as a woman in a mortal body, and who was sharing her life with her soul mate, as his wife and the mother of his children.
So I was now like any woman who loved her man, and who was determined to be there for him, until he is able to recover from the life of being a human being, whose mind has been stolen from him by people in his world; and whose body has been taught to control him through his loins, by the beliefs and practices of the dominant Male Culture, that has imprisoned the race of humanity that he had been living as a member of, since he was born on the island of Jamaica, in the Caribbean.
And whether I liked it or not, I had to live with the reality that though I was God, I was also subjected to the turmoil and tribulations that came with living the life of an African Canadian woman, who was married to a man that she no longer could trust as far as she could throw him, which was not very far; and also a man she loved more now than when she first met him decades ago.
Our move to “Soul On Spadina” night club
Soul On Spadina night club went under fast, after Carl was removed as a partner by his two partners. And the behavior of a number of the staff towards myself, and Andraggon also deteriorated rapidly. The main source of this problem came about because I had refused to play games with any of the security staff, or with any of the club staff. All of the bouncers were men, and most of the bartenders were women.
These people did not like the idea that I shared the job as head of security with my husband, because I was a woman. In the nightclub scene in Toronto, female bouncers were not expected to be head of security, nor were we allowed to be. In fact, I think I was the only one in all of Toronto, and if it was not for my husband insisting that both he and I shared the post as head of security for this club, when we first spoke to Carl about working there, I would not have been allowed to hold that post with him.
That was something which my husband did intentionally, as a strategy for us to be able to work together as equal partners, so that I would command the respect and the authority that I needed, to be able to keep other staff members from trying to treat me as his assistant, and as a mere woman. Working as a bouncer was a very macho thing to do, in an entertainment environment, where security often had to flex their muscles to keep patrons in nightclubs and bars from causing a commotion, especially starting fights with others.
This was a man’s job, to control young men especially, who had too much to drink, or who became to heated in their lions, in this party atmosphere, with a lot of females who also spent a lot of time competing for the attention of other men in that nightspot. Women were used as security mainly for large events, especially as door security who did most of the searching of the bodies of men, and also of women, coming into these places.
They served two purposes that male bouncers could not. Male patrons preferred being searched, or patted down, by female bouncers, and many of them even look forward to have a woman run her hands all over their bodies. And a female bouncer could also search the body of females coming into that night club, whereas male bouncers were not allowed to search them, except for having them open their coats, or take it off, and except for checking inside the purses or handbags females often carried to these places.
But at S.O.S., my husband and I were the ones who did the body searches of people who came into the club, and he never searched the females nor did I searched the males. Actually, most of the couples who came there liked the idea, after they discovered that was how we ran the door security there.
The females liked the idea of not having another woman running her hands all over the body of her man, and even checking close up near their crotch, even if there horny boyfriend, or husband, felt differently about it. I would not like it either if that was being done to my husband.
The males also liked the idea of not having my husband deal with their girlfriends, or wives, even to card them to check their ages, because they know that most bouncers use that opportunity to flirt with their girl, to show the male patrons that they were ‘the man.’
As one of the head of security for this club, I did not looked anything like a bouncer was expected to look, nor did I dress like one. I wore some of my beautiful clothes that I designed and made, to work each time, even while I still made sure that I wore footwear that was sturdy, which in this case was my black pair of boots that came above my knees, and which also had a high pair of soles under it. I also wore a pair of one of my black pants that fitted inside my tall boots. But I was a bouncer who looked like she was dressed for a high-class affair.
I wore beautiful long sleeve tops, and I draped it with along flowing gown that was opened in the front like a cape. I looked as classy and as elegant as the beautiful and upscale place I was working in; and I looked as if I was more like one of the hosts for the night than I did as a bouncer.
In fact, as my husband told me on a number of nights at work, I “looked like a warrior-queen from one of the ancient kingdoms on Earth”. I knew it, and I felt like one.
Some of the bouncers, however, did not treat me as if I was someone they should take orders from. There were two men in particular, who spent their time making sure that they intentionally did not follow any instruction that I gave them, as one of their supervisors. Both of them were men from my own culture, and men who had also come from the Caribbean Islands, as my husband and I did. Both of them were also married, with children, and both of them were behaving like male chauvinist in a market looking for female flesh.
Even worse, both of them were married bachelors who spent most their time salivating at work, checking out females, and coming on to whichever ones they managed to entice. One was a guy named Angus, who happened to be married to one of the sisters of Carl, who was no longer involved in the club. The other guy was named Wesley, and he was a man who was married to a Caucasian woman, and they had children together.
Both of these guys were two legged dogs, and both of them even brought their wives to work, on different occasions, while they spend their time flirting with other females. I was very unhappy about what these two married men were doing at work, and also about the fact that they even behaved like overheated dogs while their wives were there.
These two men reminded me too much of what my husband had done to me all those years, and also what he still continued to do to me sometimes. After months of seeing these two men behave like whores, with me as their supervisor, I could not contain my disgust anymore with them, especially after Carl had been pushed out.
So I decided to speak to both their wives about their behavior. If they were bold enough to disrespect and hurt their wives while they were working, and working under me, and my husband, then I would make sure that I was bold enough to inform their wives about the sleazy behavior that their husbands were carrying on with at work. If these guys felt that they had a right to cheat on their wives while working with me, then I had just as much a right to let their wives know that they were coming onto other women at work.
Too many women take the view that what they do not know will not hurt them, and too many men go about trying to convince themselves that it is okay to cheat on their wives, or girlfriends, as long as she does not find out. That is a bunch of crock; and also an excuse that is used by women to try to show a brave face to others, even when they are hurting like hell inside.
It’s also an excuse that men use to lie to themselves, and justify their piggish and sluttish behavior. And since women, and girls, are now cheating on their spouse, or their boyfriends, more than they did in past generations, they are now falling in the same shameful category as men on this issue.
It’s what you do not know that will not only hurt you, and hurt you deeply – but it could end up costing you your mortal life. And for couples who are married, or who are living with each other in today’s A.I.D’s, infected world, what you don’t know about your partner will probably end up killing you, or destroying your immune system. You may even end up dying a slow and painful death.
Anyone who knows that a married man or a married woman is having an affair, or is even trying to sleep with another person, and meets that person’s spouse, has an obligation to find a way to let that spouse know what their cheating or promiscuous partner is doing, or trying to do.
They may decide not to tell that spouse to their face, and may decide to call them, or even write to them instead. They may even do what some spouses, or people who are living together are now doing, and have a private investigator take pictures or films of that cheating spouse, especially when they are in the act of cheating with someone else.
For those of you who do not think that it is not your business to become a morality cop, who police the behavior of people you know, who are cheating on their spouse, or the person they are living with – you better think, and think again.
And while you are doing so, imagine that the same thing could be happening to you, and you may not even know about it, even if you have some disturbing feelings that your spouse might be cheating on you. It is your right to know, especially if you spouse has the nerve to disrespect you, and degrade your relationship in such a piggish manner. And the people who are aware that this is being done to you also have a right to let you know. Humans have a saying that it takes an entire village to raise a child.
And that is true. What is also true, however, it that it takes an entire community of people who care about the quality of the lives of each other, to nurture and protect each other’s marriage, and each other’s relationships with the person that they have taken a sacred vow, in the presence of their God, and many of their friends and relatives, to be loyal and true and faithful to, for as long as they both shall live.
Once morality becomes the bottom line in the lives of all of humanity, and once the higher spiritual laws become more important than the laws of the land – in the lives of humanity – each community on Earth will be able to protect and promote and preserve the quality of the relationships that a husband and a wife, have entered into. Each community will truly then be able to keep each marriages alive, and sacred, by making sure that those people who are disloyal or unfaithful or cheat in their marriage, or even in their relationship with the person who they are living with – are made to know that it will not be tolerated, encouraged, or accepted.
And the higher spiritual laws that many civilizations of beings have been practicing for ages throughout different parts of the Cosmos, will serve as the impeccable guide for humanity to be able to achieve this state of being, in their own lives, and especially in the quality and the sacredness and the purity of the marriages they enter into, or the personal, as well as the public lives that they live. It can be done. And is has to be done. And it will be achieved, once people on Earth learn the art of living as higher beings, through the Sacred Blueprint of Ancient Knowledge that lie asleep inside the souls of all beings.
Once human beings learn to practice the skills, and the apply the process of reclaiming their spiritual identities, and also reclaiming their minds from the authorities and systems, which have enslaved and paralyzed and deform their view of who they really are, (so that they can become pawns of the world in which they live their mortal lives). Then they will develop the confidence, own the knowledge, and gain the freedom to truly live as the sacred and developed and impeccable spiritual beings that they each are intended and expected to become in all their personal and public relationships.
These two married bachelors at work were not developing into anything of quality. They were decaying and rotting as spiritual beings, by what they were doing to their wives. When I finally spoke to each of their wives about what they were doing, I got the reaction that I expected to get from them.
They both told me that their husbands love them very much, and that they would not cheat on them in anyway. I did not argue with them. I had done my job. It was now up to these two women to do with my information what they chose to. If they wanted to lie to themselves that their husbands were not playing around at work, or wherever else they chose to, it was their right to do so. It was their lives, and their relationships, and they had a right to live it as they chose.
I did not need to be a God, however, to see that both of these women were lying to themselves, and that both of them were hurt when I informed them about how their husbands were coming on to not only me, but other females at work, or who came to the club to party. I had no interest in either of their husband, except as two men who worked under me, and also as two mortal beings who were doing wrong to their wives, and indirectly to the children they had together, and also to their marriage.
My relationship at work was already strained with these two married bouncers. After I spoke to their wives about what they were doing, they became openly hostile and insubordinate towards me, and they both refuse to take any instruction from me about anything I asked them to do at work.
They even started to ignore what my husband asked them to do, after he sided with me, and agreed that they were playing at work with females more than they were working. Things became so bad at work that my husband and I ended up working with these two guys, without saying even hello to either of them. The owners of the club, Roland and Paul, had to intervene to try to keep the peace, and Angus and Wesley started taking their work instructions from the owners.
The dream job that we had found about six months earlier, had now become a nightmare for Andraggon and myself. Coming to work was no longer fun, or something to look forward to. We were still officially head of security but these two bouncers had undermined our authority, and our ability to do our job.
The owners did not know what to do. They were faced with a dilemma where their security staff was now operating as a dysfunctional team. The people they hired to provide security for the club now looked like they needed extra security just to keep them from turning on each other.
My husband and I had no intention of getting into a physical confrontation with members of our own security staff. That was not our style, or even our way of dealing with conflicts. For both of us, violence is never the way to solve a conflict, or to even deal with one. We both were prepared to use physical force if we needed to, in order to protect our bodies from being injured by others, trying to attack us.
We had spent a lot of hours training together in the use of different self-defense skills, and moves, that we could use to take others down, and even to neutralize someone if we had to, since we started working in nightclubs together a few years earlier. And we both felt fairly confident in our abilities to use these self-defense skills successfully. But that was something that we kept hidden, and only intended to use as a last resort to protect ourselves.
Those two bouncers started to become openly abusive, and began to curse Andraggon and myself with profanities, at work, and they joined with the rest of the staff that they could win over, to bad mouth us. One night after work, when we were all waiting to be paid for the night Carl’s brother in law, Angus, showed us a side of himself that we had no idea that he possessed. It was not only disgusting and filthy and vulgar but it was embarrassing to watch. This man, who appeared to be a gentleman, to most people who saw him, or who worked with him, turned his mouth into a toilet that night, that spat out a load of profanity that would make even a street prostitute blush.
Andraggon and I just stood there in shock, as we listened to one of our security staff members poured out that filth from his disgusting mouth. We also stood there as he grabbed his crotch, and lifted one of his hind legs, as the dog he was, and telling my husband “to come and screw him.”
When he was finished no one said a word, not even the owner Roland, who stood there watching helplessness as one of his employees verbally attacked two of his other employees, and also disrespect the owner, and others watching, in the process. And he said nothing to this man who just behave like a gutter hog, nor did he even do any thing later to discipline this employee.
That was the final cue that my husband and I needed, which told us that it was time to move on. And we did. The club was also on its last leg. When we left Soul On Spadina, the owners owed us about $1,500 in back wages, which did not included the $500 we waived when Carl was in charge. The beautiful club with the world-class stage turned out to be the ugly place, where Andraggon and I had the misfortune of working in the entertainment district in Toronto. I will never forget that place, or even the people I met there.
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