Monday, October 5, 2009

Ford Explorers make me want to puke


I met this guy while I was on the street, he had picked me up while I was working. He was big into crystal meth and said he just wanted to have someone to talk to. He agreed to buy me some dope first, and then to give me more money after, when he dropped me off after. But no sex, just my company. That was the first visit.

This guy started to become a very regular, regular, and he became sort of obsessed, I guess you could say. Always out looking for me, driving up and down the stroll. And as I think I have mentioned before, these men misinterpret the time we would spend with them, as time we WANT to spend with them. It is all about money for us, there is no way I would voluntarily spend time with them. Even when my Dad would come downtown to find me I made him give me money so I could buy dope, otherwise I couldn't even give him the time for a conversation. But if I had what I needed, I would hang out with anyone.

Over time I started staying at his house, which wasn't far from downtown, sort of near Boundary and Hastings. It was a great gig at first and I really thought I liked him. He had gotten an inheritance before our initial meeting, so of course I was happy to be around him. He fed my habit. I did still run away though. Sometimes I just wanted to get high and do whatever I wanted, alone. As I have said many times "it is much easier to be an asshole by yourself, than to be an asshole in front of other people". Which means that with him I had to maintain some appearance of trying to control my consumption of substances. When in actuality, rationing was not fun, and I just wanted to spend as much money as I could on getting high.

Between my heroin/crack addiction and his speed addiction, eventually his money did run out. It was an inconvenience, sure, but I could always go out and get money. I would just have to go make it, by going to "work" and he was not okay with this. Even though he picked me up on the street , he was a hypocrite and actually tried to forbid me from working the street anymore. Just like a guy that picks up a stripper in a club, and then decides that his new woman can no longer be a stripper.

I was permitted to go rip guys off or come across money some other way, but I was not allowed to have sex for money. I was never really one of those girls that could pull off scams like that. Not to say that I didn't do it, but to me it seemed easier to just do the deed and get paid for it, rather than risk getting your face kicked in because you ripped some one off. Plus, if you rip them off, chances are that they will NOT ever pick you up again. Whereas, if you just do the date, then they WILL most likely pick you up again. And dope sickness is never far off and not far enough to risk it, as far as I was concerned. I used to think to myself that one day I would be clean, and I didn't want to have my face smashed in and the battle scars to prove it. I had to pretend to him that I was going out to scam men, when actually I was just going to do what I always did. To make money the old fashioned way.

Generally I would be out all morning until early evening, working just so I could keep myself well and fine until the next day. We had a meeting place predetermined, a gas station relatively close to the stroll, and had arranged what time to meet up. He was already seriously abusive by this time in our relationship (a few months had passed had since our introduction), and I would just dread having to meet up with him. I would way rather have stayed out on the street all night and made money to get high.

When we would meet up after my day, after I had gathered all the funds I needed, I would have to have a whole speech prepared about who I had ripped off, when, how much I got, etc. It is a miracle that he bought it for as long as he did.

Then the day came where I was a little late in meeting him, and he lost it. He had lost it before, and I was already scared of him but this was the first time that he actually hit me (but this was not the first time I had been hit by a guy).

I jumped in his Explorer, and proceeded to unveil my tangled web of lies and deceit. I don't know what set him off, maybe have been that as soon as I was in the truck, I said "okay, let's go get my dope" rather than a "hello, how are you". But I really didn't care how he was, but it must have been impossible to ignore how the drugs were my utmost priority, rather than him. This must have infuriated him, because not only did he fault me with the depletion of his inheritance, but I had the balls to go out and have sex with other men, and then come back to him, and expect him to take me to meet my dope dealer. Which was in south Vancouver.

Before I knew it, we were driving down Clark Drive, and as I was telling him about my "day" and he pulled back and sucker punched me in the face so quick and so hard, he split my lip in what must have been a half a millisecond. As I caught my breath, he saw that I was bleeding, to which he said, "you better clean the f$#@ing blood of your face right now, before someone sees it". Then as I cried and tried appease him, he reached into my bag and grabbed one of my used rigs and ripped the cap off. He then grabbed me with his right arm around my neck, and held the needle to my neck, screaming how dare I try to lie to him, I had f%$#ed to get that money, and I was a whore, (of course I was, I was when you met me, idiot). Then, he began telling me that he was taking me to his friend Simon's house, who had a rubber room in his basement. This guy was hard core dope dealer and would torture people that tried to ripped him off or so I was told. This rubber room would muffle my screams as he murdered me.

You would think, why would I stay in his truck..why not get out and run, right? Well, it wasn't as simple as that. If I did run, he knew where to find me, downtown, he knew my haunts, and that was where I "worked" so there was no getting away. Whether he found me the same day or another day, he would find me, and slit my throat or something. I don't even know why he was so angry, as I said, I didn't care. Even then, I just wanted him to stop being angry so we could get on with it and go get my friggen' dope already.

That was still and had never stopped being my main objective during this whole altercation. I just needed him to take me to south Van to get my dope. I had no other way to get there, and if I could make him believe my apologies and denials, then he would take me there. I could get drugs downtown, but to get the most for your dollar and for better quality a "dial a dope" operation was the best bet. And that was my main concern, getting the goods.

I found out later, that there was no rubber room, and I still have a scar on my lip from this incident. And you would never believe that I stayed with him for 3 years and suffered his horrible abuse the entire time. I knew he went out and picked up prostitutes cause that is how we had met, plus he was out of the house all the time, especially at night, all night. And they would call his phone at all hours. One time I even checked the text messages in his phone, and there were all these gross messages between him and this Surrey working girl named Shelley. The texts were all about oral sex and how he wanted to have a threesome with her and him and I. Barf. I really didn't care too much though, if he was getting "it" somewhere else, then he wouldn't want it from me. I just didn't want him thinking I was ignorant of his escapades, or think that I was oblivious to the garbage he was up to.

The ONLY reason I got away is because I actually had a baby with this guy, and had to get my life together for my child. I used to be so thankful that I had never gotten pregnant with him, since we never used condoms at all. In the end it was that pregnancy that saved my life.











1 comment:

  1. Yet another reason why babies are awesome!!

    Glad you got out.

    xo

    ReplyDelete