The story you are about to hear is true. Only the names have been changed to protect the innocent. This Valentine’s Day, if you find yourself feeling lonely, maybe just order a pizza and save yourself some heartache.
"Never marry a stripper," they say, “soldiers and strippers go together like cops and ER nurses”. Its age-old advice passed down to generations of young servicemembers, especially those in the Army and Marines. But as we all know, life has a funny way of defying expectations. This is one of those stories, a tale of a soldier, a stripper, and a marriage forged in the crucible of El Paso, Texas.
A group of soldiers found themselves letting loose on a typical Friday night, kicking back at a country bar in El Paso because irony isn’t dead. Among them was our observer, a medic recently promoted to specialist, known for his level-headedness and responsible approach to finances. He wasn't about to squander his hard-earned pay on fleeting pleasures; he was there to have a good time with his buddies and enjoy the camaraderie. As the night progressed, the group decided to venture into the alluring world of the local base strip club, because that staph infection isn’t going to catch itself. Our medic, not particularly enticed by the dancers, found himself at a table with a few of his comrades, engaged in conversation and enjoying a few drinks.
Out of the blue, odd for an establishment where women are expected to approach, a stripper approached their table. While she might not have been the most striking dancer in the establishment, she possessed a certain allure. She inquired if one of the soldiers was interested in a dance, and he, eager for some entertainment, readily accepted. They ascended to the VIP area, leaving the medic and two other soldiers at their table. More drinks were ordered, and the soldiers continued their lively banter. After some time, the soldier who had ventured upstairs with the stripper returned, a grin plastered across his face. His buddies, intrigued, pressed him for details about his experience.
"Dude," he declared, "I think I just got myself a fiancée!"
His friends were somewhat nonplussed by the statement… For a few seconds at least. "What the hell are you talking about, man?" they questioned in disbelief. “Did you get roofied or something?”
The soldier recounted how, during his time with the stripper, he had casually mentioned being single, fresh off of his first deployment (with all that tax free combat pay burning a hole in his wallet), and eager to not live in the barracks anymore. To no one’s astonishment, the stripper's eyes lit up as she told him all the details on how he could achieve his barracks-free dream faster than he could have hoped.
Our medic began to question the groom to be, first out of bewilderment of how stupid some people become when a hot goth woman is within 50 feet of them, then out of an attempt to show the young man how little he knew about his future spouse. He was beyond reason or help by this point, however; the Orion pheromones had already done their work, and the military can’t exactly forbid soldiers to marry based on stereotypes and professions or everyone in the Army would be a monk.
And so it came to pass that a mere week later, the soldier and the stripper tied the knot. The medic, who bore witness to this whirlwind romance, was utterly astounded, but agreed to be the Best Man rather than leave the young groom to pick a rando from the crowd at the courthouse. The marriage was simple and fast, to the point where filing out the paperwork in the base personnel office took longer than the service that preceded it. An apartment was rented, furniture purchased, and then things started to go downhill.
The young man and the medic went on deployment. With some additional rank came some additional privilege, so they found the experience less jarring than their previous deployment, if no less difficult. Several months went by, during which time the letters from the young man’s wife began to slow. Calls began to go unanswered, and the young man began to worry, which turned out to be the right instinct.
Deployment ended as they all inevitably must, and the unit went home. Absent from the parking lot upon their return was the young man’s dancing spouse, as well as his truck. There were a few members of law enforcement on the other hand, so at least the answers were forthcoming. As the medic later learned, the case was thus.
For the first few months, little changed in the stripper’s life. Work, home, out with the girls once or twice a week. Then she met Top. A broad shouldered, bald staff non-commissioned officer with a face like he lost a fight to a George Foreman grill, Top was on the lookout for wife number three, and for reasons unknown to man nor beast, our stripper took a liking to him. It was flirting and extra dances at first, but soon Top had our stripper at his apartment, and then became inseparable. They brought out the worst in each other as these types of unions often do, and it wasn’t long before they realized that they couldn’t have the life they wanted with the means they had, and a plan began to form.
They would become drug traffickers. Nothing sells itself quite like cocaine, and the money was good. The young man’s truck had been left in her care, so they had a delivery method, and Top’s size and rank meant few were willing to give him much scrutiny. They made a little money and thought to expand… Across state lines. When you start to believe in your own bullshit, you need to get out of the game, but sadly no one had informed either of them of this fact. It wasn’t long before they were found out, a manhunt of the most boring kind ensued, and both found themselves in lockup.
The medic claims that to this day, he’s never seen a faster divorce proceeding. The young man lost his wife, his truck impounded by police, and half of his deployment money. All told, a fairly light price for freedom and to be part of the country music tradition he so loved.