This next post is an homage to one of my old regulars, Norm. This isn't his real name, but it is not far off. I just didn't want to obviously out him,.. just maybe out him a little bit...The chance of anyone putting two and two together, and actually figuring out who he is, is less than likely. Of course, the more details I share, the higher chance of him being "recognized". Any girl that worked the area would probably be familiar with the individual I am writing about. On the off chance that he himself stumbles across this, he would know it was him, and for that, I feel sort of bad. But not bad enough.
One Friday night I was picked up an English guy, his name was Norm (you can't have any idea how badly I want to use his real name....first and last). He looked totally normal, attractive, quasi-stylish, etc. He wanted me to score some dope (crack) and then we would go get one of those $20/hr rooms they offer at various 5 star establishments in the downtown eastside. These type of dates are good. Taking your clothes off is usually part of it, but generally the guy thinks that he will be this massive stud/stallion with regards to his sexual prowess, but more often than not, it is the exact opposite.
As I said these dates were good. It would be indoors, he paid for the dope, he was attractive, nice, and seemed clean . So, we did our hour, smoked the dope, and then he gave me some money to go get more, which I promptly took and left with no intention of coming back. I had a prior "engagement" and business is business after all. I had my own best interests at heart. Served him right for trusting me, right? Well, no actually. I usually always came back when given money to go get dope, but not this time.
So, I was very surprised (well not overly surprised I was fabulous, even for a sex trade worker- get rid of the track marks and I could have passed for a really, really tired college student - ha ha) when he picked me up again the next weekend. He said he didn't care that I didn't come back the previous Friday, it wasn't much money that I had taken. This time though, we went to his house after I scored. He became one of those dates that I have mentioned in prior posts, one that thinks that maybe he is in love or something, they forget that the girl is being paid to be there, that why she is so nice and agreeable, etc. As long as I had my dope paid for I was fine, but after a time (weeks) he was getting into dope crazy, crazy like. He would drive me downtown in the morning so I could score cause I would dope sick, and I would always buy down AND up, and soon enough he was wanting to get high before he went to work. He was an ESL teacher. And as soon as he would get home from work he wanted to smoke crack right after he walked in the door (I can relate to this, but he had not been like this in the beginning of our acquaintance). Then of course he would want to get all sexual, and not be able to perform (which was fine by me). He was attractive, had the saucy accent, blah blah, but something about him just grossed me out, I didn't like doing dates with him at all. There was a couple of reasons for this. One being that I actually found it offensive that all he wanted to do when he got high was pretend to have sex (I say pretend, because we both knew it wouldn't happen) , but also because I smoked crack daily, I could remain relatively mentally "sound" and didn't get all wigged out and weird like him, and I would just want to talk. I would get pissed off that he wouldn't listen to what I was saying to him, all I he could think of was sex. Apparently crack can have this effect on the males of our species. I was a drug addicted prostitute but I wasn't blind, and he looked way better with his clothes on. It was easier to do dates with men I didn't know, than men I had gotten to know. The more you know someone, the more you are aware of them as a person, and my job wasn't to have sex with a "person". Oh and by the way, the whole "Pretty Woman" no kissing clause, is bunch of bullsh*t. I would prefer not to have to kiss, but if the price is right everything is negotiable.
The reason I am telling this story is because it still amusing some facet of my soul. Don't get me wrong I feel like a jerk because I am sort of making fun of him, and I did deplete his savings and took part in his descent into crack usage, but he had used before, so I am not totally evil. I didn't even WANT him to use, I just wanted him to get dope for me, but if I had to put up with his weird and pathetic self to get well, then I had to do what I had to do.
Some people are allright when they get high, others are so obviously under the influence that one can actually feel embarrassed for them. He used to get so paranoid. I remember one time he took me to score in the middle of the night, and there was a roadblock due to a car accident, and he actually thought that the cops had set up the entire thing to just to bust his ass. This paranoia is not out of the ordinary though, psychosis is a real side effect especially from coke. I too fell victim once in a while, but usually only if I had been awake for days. One time I was in my friend's room at a slimy hotel, and he went to score, and while he was gone I swore I could hear him through the vent in the floor taking to some guys and planning my murder. Even when he came back, I didn't believe him when he said I was nuts, and I took off. If I was outside I could at least run from these would be murderers. Norm was always paranoid, and the dope actually made him stupid-er than he already was in everyday life. He was a nice man, but a total easy mark for a girl like I me.
For example, we had scored a bunch of coke one night, and ended up going to sleep with some left un-smoked, and so the next day he gave me some for me to have and then hid the rest in his room for when he got home from work. He actually left me $20 too, so I could get my methadone (which I wasn't on, but he didn't know that- I had him believing this because I was having to make false promises that I would get off of heroin). When he hid his portion of dope I had every intention of respecting his wishes and just smoking my dope, and then taking off for downtown to get well. But of course, that isn't what happened. I did what dope I had, then about ten seconds after that, I had found his hiding spot and proceeded to blow through his as well. I just wanted a bit, but I smoked it all. I actually felt bad, and wanted to cover my tracks in case he found out. My plan was to put bunk dope in his hiding place (I actually used pieces of white hand soap) and was just going to go downtown, make money and buy more crack and be back before he got home from work. But, he had gotten off work early that day (probably because he knew he could get high once he got home). I wasn't overly worried about what would happened if he did discover my attempt at covering my tracks, he was sort of a wimp, and he needed me to score dope for him. It wasn't like he couldn't get too mad. I worry though, that I am making myself seem like a total b***h here, by taking his money, dissing him, etc. Realistically though, he would have been getting high with another female, if I wasn't there. Better me than her.
By the time I got myself back his place in Kits, he was already there. I was waiting for him to give me a hard time about doing his dope, but he said nothing. I had purposely took all the smoking utensils (pipes, etc.) with me when I left, in case he did return before me. But there he was, not letting on that he knew I was guilty, and he just says to me, "oh, we have that dope, do you want to smoke it", and I said sure....then I notice that there was a tiny piece of a broken pipe on the kitchen table. He must have fished it out of somewhere. In this glassware was a horrible, black, burnt toke sized nugget of the soap. He had tried to smoke it when he got home, but when it burned black the way it did, I guess he assumed that he was doing it incorrectly and just waited for me to get there. I used to give him shit all the time about burning the dope anyways, so I guess in his mind it made sense that he must have lit his pipe incorrectly. I mean, smoking crack IS a skill after all (laugh). I couldn't believe it though, he really had no idea that I had done the swapped his crack for hand soap. Wow. Come ON.
His dad actually died after some time (months), and I guess it snapped him out of the mind space he was in, and he moved in with his mom to take care of her, and so he could clear his head. I was fine with that, it was getting harder to get cash out of him anyways, plus eventually even I started to feel bad taking his money. I knew how broke he was, plus, it wasn't even like I was earning it, cause I never did dates with him when I saw him. I was just bleeding him financially.
I would see him once in a while though, he eventually moved back to Van from White Rock, and still wanted to get high once in a while, but I wasn't the only girl he would pick up.
One of the last times we did see each other, I had asked him about the other girls he spent time with and if they were weird or freaky, who were they, etc. He proceeded to tell me that the girl from his last bender had taken him to her place in a hotel and as soon as he was high he had taken his clothes off and asked her to do the same. He always did that. It's like they "assume" that we too, want to have sex as soon as we get high, when in reality, we would rather do anything but. So there he was, naked, high, waiting for this girl to tend to his "needs" when there was a loud banging on the door. He guessed that when the girl had gone to score she had set up a scam with the dope dealer. The dealer banged on the door, making threats thug style. She opens the door and then the dealer says that she is his woman and accuses Norm of molesting her. Norm, being the champ that he is when under the influence, was relieved of his clothing, dope and his wallet, and was made to fend for himself once he was evicted from the room...(naked).
This makes me feel kind of sorry for him, so much so that I had to use a fake name. It wasn't his fault that he was so ridiculous.
Maybe I was the villain in this story. Or maybe some people just weren't born to do drugs, it isn't in their DNA. (laugh)
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