Sunday, February 28, 2010

Survival Tactic No. 112 (Thugs on a Doorstep)


As much as I tried to remain the Switzerland of the downtown scene (as in "neutral") sometimes things cannot be avoided. I generally kept to myself to a certain extent - but it is difficult not to get noticed going and repeatedly buying dope in front of those people that have no money, those individuals that are always jonesing or those that resort to underhanded tactics at getting their own habit satiated. I have mentioned the term "jacked up". It is a broad term and it is a constant hazard and part of life down there.

There were certain loss preventative measures I took to try to minimize the damage I would suffer when this type of thing would occur. I was not a fighter though - so my methods were to only get out of the situation as quickly as possible, without getting beat up or without allowing myself to remain on someone's list as a constant and fruitful target.

There was this couple, Star and Kenny. Both total dope addicts - heroin and cocaine - they were a nightmare for me. Not so much him but her for sure. I tried to avoid Star at all costs but downtown Vancouver's red zone is a small area and paths do cross.

It was late at night and I am sure the street was Alexander...which is a street that I generally would not go down unless it could not be avoided. Daytime wasn't so bad, it was still threatening - but everything is less scary during the daylight hours. I usually never went on the other side of Oppenheimer Park..but, if that was where the dope was and since it was closer to the area where I worked, I sometimes resorted to making my purchases there. This indecent I am sharing wasn't in the safety of daylight, it was in the foreboding and witching time of darkness.

There was one of the rooming houses that had a dope selling room set up. Let me try to explain this to you, even the people that were supposed to be running the rooming house seemed to be in on it. I am talking a line up like in a grocery store, a room door open, a table and chair set up in the door, a metal box for the money and the dope inside the room. Scale, razor blade for cutting the crack rocks, etc. Like a friggen' lemonade stand. These sort of set ups were generally short lived because they would obviously get busted or they would get robbed or something like that. The benefit was that by buying your dope there you could usually get someone to let you do your dope (shoot up chill out whatever) in their room for a very small price, sometimes for nothing if they had their own dope or they didn't care, etc., so it was relatively comfortable (you could also sneak into one of the bathrooms or the stairwell and do your fix in there too). I already mentioned that another benefit was proximity to the stroll. Another reason for my patronage of such places was that it was semi private. When you buy dope out in the open there is a thousand junkies that have no money and that are hurting as hell that see you buying dope and then accost you for even a tiny bit of what you have purchased or they beg you for anything to help them out. It is easy enough to deal with but when you are someone like me that makes money continuously throughout the day it gets tiring and irritating and it is something to be avoided. Such was the reason why I was going to buy from this particular rooming house.

It was dark. It was late. I turned the corner onto Alexander St and walked right into Star and Kenny. Star was exactly what you would think about a bully from grade school. I was the geek and she was the tough girl profiled in all those teen after-school specials. Kenny was a prick too but he was like her whipping boy and never bugged me unless she was around. She was a total tomboy, she must have been about 18 years old. Looked kind of like a grubby skater chick. Definitely good looking in her own right.

So I round the corner and there they are sitting on the steps of the building right next to the building where I am going to buy my dope. At first they didn't see me and I made the mistake of assuming that they were perhaps in a docile mood and I asked if anyone (there were a couple other acquaintances on the steps as well) had any rigs for sale. Up jump Star and Kenny.

She walks right up to me and demands that I give her my money and before I had a chance to even protest or give in, Kenny had my head slammed back by pulling my ponytail and forcing me into a very unnatural and helpless angle. I said all I had was ten bucks and it was in my pocket. At this time the other people are telling them to let me go and all that good citizen crap but of course no one actually steps in. Even the guy that had been trying to hump me for months that was manning the door at the dope selling rooming house was watching what was going on and he did nothing. Not that I expected rescue but still it just goes to show what cowards people are (not that I would have jumped in).

She pulls the ten bucks out of my pocket and screams that she knows I have more money and where is it???!!! At this point I am almost out of breath because of how Kenny has me by my ponytail and I manage to get out that there is another ten bucks in my underwear. Of course, she is not deterred by this and sticks her dirty hand down the front of my underwear and finds the ten dollar bill. Kenny then lets me go and I run into the dope selling rooming house. The idiot that was watching the door says "oh - I didn't even know it was you". As if. The thing is-on rare occasion I did have a select few people stick up for me during my time down there. They stuck up for me because I was nice and I did help people out and I wasn't a total selfish bitch and generally there was no need to manhandle me - I had good victim mentality. I will do what you say - just don't hurt me kind of thing. If Kenny and Star had just demanded my money I probably would have handed it over without too much struggle. Plus, there was always more money to be made for me, unless I was super dope sick, then it sucked to get jacked up (well, getting jacked up always sucked, don't get me wrong) but generally I could go make more $$ anyways. This time though, like other times I was way ahead of these wanna be thugs that thought they were getting me good. They didn't get all my money because I NEVER kept all off my money in the same place.

Sure, Star got her hands on twenty bucks - which isn't even that much when is had to be split between her and her boyfriend. I still had another sixty bucks on me. I had twenty in each of my socks..but underneath my heels and I had another twenty somewhere else some ripped open secret pocket of my bag I think.

This is what I am have to plan ahead. I had certain things I did to survive...even as a dope addict you have to be prepared for things like that. If they had gotten all my money then I basically had just ******** some loser guy for free, and that so wasn't cool. So I won, Star and Kenny. I won. Sure I lost twenty but it wasn't twenty that I couldn't afford to lose at that moment.

Star still f*cked me over a couple times after that though. She caught me doing a toke in a doorway one time and I had a huge rock at my feet. She took it but didn't take the whole thing - she just broke it in half (that BITCH!) and gave me back the other half. That happened to me every so often, and not just by her. Sometimes it is unavoidable and you get busted by an jerk off w/ your dope in your hands and are forced to share because they muscle you, no matter how small the amount and that totally sucks.

The last time I saw Star she came up to me and asked me politely for a toke (I hate that word - but it is what it is called). I was in a fine mood and I agreed. I never made like I was totally frightened by her even though I was. I acted like I was just doing doing her a favor. During our mutual cocaine consumption she told me that she was leaving town in a few hours, that her family was coming for her and that she was going to get clean. She was totally freaking out about it, it was obvious by her demeanor. Getting clean is scary, I will give her that - and she had reason to be nervous. Then she actually apologized for being such a c*** to me over the past few years and that was that.

I have no idea what happened to her but I know what happened to me. I won. And continue to win.

Tuesday, February 23, 2010

Blow J*b Bob

This begins with my very first experience with a detox facility..(awww, cute - you always remember the first one) and coincidentally it was also my best experience at a detox facility. Not that this has anything to do with the story I will be telling here but I thought I would throw it out there. If you ever have to go to detox in Vancouver BC, Vancouver Detox is the best. Most likely you will get sent to Cordova Detox (lame)..even Maple Cottage sucks (so I thought at the time- but in the moment all detoxes suck, especially now that you can't smoke. When I think back now though - time in a detox facility seems like it would be very relaxing..minus the whole kicking heroin/withdrawal aspect).

During my first stint in detox...I was at a NA meeting that was taking place there and there was a big scandal unfolding amongst the "detoxers". One of the females that was in the detox at the same time as me was having a fit because on of the speakers at the meeting had been one of her old "dates". She referred to him as Blow J*b Bob.

Not just anyone can attend a meeting at a detox. You have to be approved and "they" have to be sure about who everyone is etc, because they don't want anyone coming in that is going to speak and trigger anyone or let someone in that will bring drugs in for the patients/inmates. (Oh, btw-it is fairly easy to get drugs into a is harder to find someone with such low moral virtue that they would agree to do it. But they are out there - there is always dirt bags willing to help you bury yourself.)

The girl that was having the fit was a total head case but in her defense she had every right to freak out. If this guy "Blow J*b Bob" was who she said he was, then his being at a NA meeting at a detox was so wrong in a million ways. Regardless if he was in recovery or not, if he was purchasing blow j*bs from a girl that was selling herself on the street then he was knowingly taking advantage of her in her drug addicted situation. Well, even saying it that way doesn't get my message across because most men KNOW they are preying on unstable/vulnerable women but someone in recovery - especially someone that goes to meetings to act as a support system for these type of females/people was committing even more of a social injustice than the ordinary predator.

Ironic twist that isn't so ironic: I knew this guy, "Blow J*b Bob" (now referred to as Bob) - he was actually a daily customer at the coffee shop I worked at. He had full on grey (more salt than pepper) hair, wore the typical flannel work jacket and had a beer belly. At this time when I was in detox for the very first time I had just stopped working there (coffee shop) and had yet to really commit myself to a life a prostitution and all the other bells and whistles that go along with that. So I knew this Bob guy, not by name, but I knew his face and I didn't believe this girl at the detox that was saying he was a purchaser of hummers from ladies of the night. I mentioned she was a head case and she did appear very flaky so I took nothing of what she said for truth or fact.

Bob recognized me at the meeting and came up to me and said some encouraging yet lovingly meaningless words after the meeting had ended. I ended up leaving the facility a few days later. I ran into Bob at the Safeway on Commercial and Broadway a month or so later. He said he was on his way to a meeting and asked if I wanted to come. I was totally gassed on crystal meth at the time and thought there was nothing I would like to do more than go to an NA meeting. So we went, we even had coffee after - I never mentioned the incident about the girl from detox. He gave me his number in case I ever wanted to do another meeting and that was that.

Next time I saw him (which may not be the same as the next time he saw me) he pulled over to the side of the road when I was (not so) inconspicuously working Cordova and Dunlevy. He pulled up in his pimp'n' silver Aerostar (gives me a rush when I give extra details - thinking that these people may get outed). He pulled up and as he had a girl already in the front seat, I jumped in the back. (I will not use her name because she was a nice girl and it is never our fault is it??)

I jumped in and he pretended think that I was just waiting for the bus, listened to my bullsh*t sob story and then gave me twenty bucks. Somewhere during the conversation between the 3 of us he told me that "she" (the girl in the front) was his "blow j*b buddy". BARF - ugh. I was thinking that I was glad I wasn't her - glad that he and I knew each other from real life otherwise he may think about doing that with me. (It was always creepier to be doing dates with someone that I knew from "real life" - unless they were hot/super awesome/super cool/hip etc., of course - then it would feel powerful knowing that they were paying ME for sex and the rest of the world saw them in a different way...) When I think about it now - he obviously gave me that twenty bucks as sort of a layaway type thing. I would know that he had money and he knew that I needed that money. And now, since he had told me - I was aware that he had "blow j*b buddies" (his phrase).

So the flaky weirdo from Vancouver detox hadn't been that flaky after all.

Obviously one doesn't have to be a genius to figure out that eventually I was one of the girls on Bob's roster of hummer giving females but I can't even express to you how different one guy can be from the next. Bob was low down on the decency scale when it comes to men that buy sex from sick females. He enjoyed taking forever to finish - he KNEW that we (the girls) hated what was going on but he didn't even care - he had total power and he knew it. He especially knew because he was in recovery. He told me all sorts of stories about when he was a crack head and how he used to sell dope and get people/girls/crack heads to do such degrading things for even a little bit of dope. At the time the stories made me laugh because he was such a prick back in his day but he played the role of converted drug addicted in the "program" (NA/AA) so well that I sort of forgave him. Except when it came to doing dates with him. He was awful to do dates with. I am talking like hour long hummers here...awful awful awful. He was totally aware that he was torturing you - but didn't give a sh*t.

He would always come around when you were super hurting or (rarely) he would come and get you and treat you really nice. I even spent one New Year's Eve with him - he bought me a bunch of heroin and cocaine and just hung out with me while I did it. Of course the next day when I was all f*cking sick I had to give him the damn blow j*b.

I heard** that he ended up getting messed up on crack again but I never believed it (maybe I should have - I had been wrong about him initially). It was probably true - I don't know how that could have happened though. He never asked me for any dope or made like he was even interested in it. I wasn't about to share either.

There really was a guy that went by the name "Blow Job Bob" and he was a total scum bag. One of the worst and a disgrace to the NA panel.

**You must know by now that when I use the word "heard" as in I "heard" what had happened to such and such individual- that I am not claiming that there is any truth to this that I had "heard"...I am relaying a rumor - fact or fiction, who cares? Not me.

Saturday, February 13, 2010

"The Demon Lucy", "I thought you had to be human to drive a taxi" and other charming, rainy Saturday stories.

I am sure to the average person that thinks of the dangers and risks of being a street prostitute include disease, being beaten up and stuff like that. Those are definite issues of the job but one of my own personal and most terrifying incidents was neither one of those things.

I as usual, am using real names because anyone that knows anything about the dope scene downtown will immediately know who I am writing about when I say the name "Ronnie" (and as I have mentioned before I have loyalties to no one on the street - and if on rare occasion I do choose to preserve identity, then lucky them). Ronnie lived in a big house on Marine Drive. This house was sort of famous to the girls of the hood and to certain other individuals.

The first time I met this guy was through another date of mine, Willy...he came around one day telling me that Ronnie had a room at the Regent (I think) and wanted some new girls with which to get naked and wasted. Ronnie was big into buying and selling real estate or companies or something, total business man - he was from a family of money (I am not going to use the J word). He was a total dope fiend. He was around 35-40 ish plus at the time (? maybe?) and was like 5 ft tall. I went with Willy when he asked me to and I guess it was odd to him that I had never had dealings with Ronnie - girls on the street jumped on Ronnie, they loved him. When they had nothing going on they would call him at his house and ask to come over. He always had dope and money and he had a pool and it was total debauchery apparently.

As an aside I will mention that Willy and I had had many successful dealings in the past. He was a total weekend crack head - he had a job and appeared normal but on the weekend he would get super crazy on crack. He would only smoke crack in his bathroom with the tap on - in case his neighbors could hear his lighter when he went to do his tokes (as if). He would give his cat to his downstairs neighbor -which is nice- and would set his apartment alarm from the inside in case anyone tried to get in or get out. He would cease to speak after the first ten minutes of getting high or so and would develop major trust issues. He picked up girls for sex and company but also was always on the search for the perfect girl that wouldn't make him sketchy when he was high and could keep him from getting all paranoid. Our first "date" was great but almost every one after that was messy. Messy but I always got paid and he always came back. I remember him silently crying one time and using begging body language to keep me from leaving when I was tripped out by his creepiness. He did NOT under any circumstances want to turn off that apartment alarm but I told him I was going to scream and so he eventually had to let me out. The thing is, is that Willy not on crack was a total dude. Normal as can be. We hung out other times and did E and sometimes he would come find me when a friend of his needed a girl - and AHEM, I was on the top of his list. It was good to not be a weirdo because a lot of repeat business in this "profession" (har har) is by word of mouth. Which is what led him to find me that particular day and bring me to Ronnie. If it matters, Willy was not getting high that day - he was in no way a social user. He needed his controlled environment and all that.

There was a few girls there, in Ronnie's room at the hotel...your typical idiots..the usual. We ended up going back to his "mansion" and continued to get high and hang out, etc. He actually had a girlfriend at the time, her name was "Lucy" and she was not a downtown girl but she was a dope fiend all the same. She hated when girls were at the house and wouldn't hang out with us - she would just come in the room once in a while and be intimidating and stuff. I didn't like her. She was hot though and very tall.

At the end of it all I was the girl he wanted to have stay but Lucy was seriously giving me bad vibes and since I wanted to go back downtown he took me to a swanky hotel on Davie, rented me a room so I could sleep if I wanted to and left me a bunch of cash and dope to stay and wait for him to come back. He never came back and I didn't care.

One unassuming afternoon a fellow "co-worker" Elise and I were both working Campbell Ave and there was nothing happening and Elise said she was gonna go call Ronnie. She called him and me thinking that he won't even remember me anyways - I said fine I will go for a little while and then we can come back downtown. Ronnie agreed to pay for our taxi and so we went. AT the time I think I had been awake for about 2 and a half days. I had been staying with this guy Carl who was a dope fiend as well so he never really expected me back at his house...he just knew that I would show up eventually.

So Elise and I go to Ronnie's. It is just the three of us at the time but after a bit Lucy shows up. During her absence Ronnie had told us that he was so sick of her but she would not leave and she was using all his dope and making him spend his money on clothes for her all the time and that she was very jealous of other women that were around him.

Anyways, no need to draw it out ...we got high, smoked crack, did down...blah blah blah. We did - not Lucy. We ended up downstairs and from what I was TOLD Lucy had passed out in the main bedroom upstairs. Elise was wanting to leave after a few hours but Ronnie did not want me to go. I really didn't want to stay especially since Elise had told me about the last girl that Ronnie had kept there while Lucy was in the house. She told me Lucy had came up behind this female and bashed her in the back of the head with a baseball bat. Being the pussy I was and being so afraid of physical threat I was really not wanting to stay. But Ronnie kept saying it was fine that I should just stay, that Lucy was sleeping, that he would take me to a taxi if I changed my mind etc. So fine, I said I would stay and Elise left.

He had been pumping us with dope the whole time we were there, obviously. He would cook his own dope from powdered cocaine, lots of people do. You can buy it pre-made or make it your self. He would just dump a bunch of coke into this metal measuring cup then add some baking soda (in case you were wondering how it was made, kids) and then apply gradual heat...etc. It was gluttonous really but he could afford it.

As I mentioned I had been awake for days. I was really good at handling my dope but on rare occasion I would freak out a little. On top of the sleep deprivation and the copious amounts of cocaine and heroin I had been doing in such a short amount of time, compounded with the ever present threat of the wrath of Lucy..I guess it all created this chasm of destruction inside my brain.

What happened still gives me chills when I think about it and it scared me to the most inner core of my being.

Ronnie left the room for one reason for another and I was left alone with the TV on, sitting on a bed for quite a few minutes. All I know is that one minute I was looking for my lighter so I could smoke my dope and then I realized something: I didn't know who the f*ck I was.

I knew that I was going to tell Ronnie that I wanted to leave as soon as he was back in the room but when I was thinking about where I wanted to go when I left his house...I had no idea. Of course my destination was Carl's apartment on Nanaimo but I didn't know that at the time. I mean, that knowledge was gone. It was at THAT point that I came to the realization that I didn't know where I was, where I was going, I had no idea who I was, what was my name or anything. Maybe that doesn't seem scary to you but I assure you it was truly horrifying. Not knowing who you are is not a fun experience. I can't even stress to you how helpless a feeling it is. I mean, it isn't like you sort know what is going on, it is like in the movies where a person gets amnesia and is at the mercy of those around them. I mean, you know you are a person - but what person are you?

It isn't even that I was just void of thought and rational information. I was totally aware of what was happening but in regards to the core things one knows about themselves, I had nothing. It was literally black, empty.

Ronnie came back in the room and I didn't tell him what was going on other than that I had to go. HAD TO. He drove me to the 7-11, gave me $40 for a taxi (he had already had given me tonnes of dope) and dropped me off after he told a taxi driver to take me downtown.

I had started to come to in regards to certain information..I remembered my name slowly..then eventually the knowledge of Carl's apartment came to me, etc. I had no idea how much the taxi would cost and I needed to go get a lighter (I hadn't found mine at Ronnie's) and my plan was to just buy one with some of the dope that I had. Crack is like money. Of course, Carl would have a lighter I knew that - but he was a crazy drug addict too and there was no guarantee that he would even be at home to let me in when I got there. I needed to make sure I could still smoke while I waited for him, if I waited.

The driver took me to Hastings where I got a lighter (he knew what I was doing, the cabbies down there are very in the know about what goes on) and then took me in the direction of Carl's house.

When the driver had taken me to get the lighter I had given him $20 to wait for me before I jumped out so he knew I was coming back once I got it. I was still very shaken up - don't be thinking I was all back to normal. A person doesn't just forget everything and then bounce back from that with out a second thought. I was still reeling from it all and was vulnerable maybe...

When we got in front of Carl's apartment and I went to give the taxi driver the other twenty bucks, I couldn't find it (the drive from R's to get lighter then to C's was like $35 altogether). I was frantic. I looked all over the cab - then I thought I must have dropped it on the street when I was getting the lighter on Hastings. I started crying and telling the guy I had no more money and that I wasn't trying to scam him and that I just had NO MORE MONEY. He then told me to give him my dope. AS IF - I had like a friggen' eight ball and I was in no hurry to give him any of it. So then he decides that there is another way I can pay him. With a f*cking bl*wjob. Of course, I have no choice but to agree.

There I am, not in my right mind....totally crying and he has his hand on the back of my head ferociously making me go down on him ("making me" in the sense that it wasn't for fun - he wanted something for the ride he had given me in his cab).

Afterwards, when I got out and he drove away I realized that I had given him both bills and not just one when we had arrived to pick up my lighter. He knew I had given all that money to him and he still totally took advantage of the situation.

Carl WAS home when I got there - I told him everything and I was crying and he hugged me (we were sort of like that) went got me some super good heroin and then we smoked all of my crack. The end.

Ronnie doesn't live in that house anymore. I heard that he moved onto some farm and had these delusional fantasies about having a n animal rescue thing going on, so I heard.

Saturday, February 6, 2010

Jason, of the Balmoral Jason's

I have no picture of him, so I thought a picture of Jason Vorhees (Friday the 13th) would suffice.

There was this dope addict Jason. He wasn't one that was around constantly. In fact, my very first run in with him was as I crossed the street at Hastings and Main. He ran up beside me and asked me if I wanted to do a date. Of course I did..and he told me he had a room at the Balmoral. That was fine...the Balmoral was scary but in comparison to the other sleazy and roach infested hotels, the Balmoral was tolerable. It was late was dark..that is about all I can remember about the specifics in regards to the outdoor setting.

We went to his room and I asked him what he wanted me to do. He was sort of sketchy..well, "sort of sketchy" is an understatement. He was "wired for sound" (whatever that Mum used to say that when I was a kid when I was all overly hyper)...he was very much overly hyper. Uber sketchy.

He told me all he wanted was for me to bang some cocaine with him (at the time I wasn't much of a coke slammer...but of course I still did it) and to just hang out and help him not freak out...THEN if he decided I wasn't Satan incarnate he wanted me to give him a ******* while he did another whack. He had tons of cash and said he would give me a hundred bucks.

We go to the room...we both do our hits...and his was obviously like 4 times the size of mine.....then he sits on the bed and unzips his pants and leans back for the obvious..I finished my whack and before I even had a chance to get more than 1 minute into what he was paying me for he was almost on the f*cking ceiling. He was on his feet...and even just looking at him I could tell that he was totally hallucinating. He kept asking me if I saw "this" or saw "that" and I would say "no..." I would remain calm though for his sake. I have done huge whacks before and if you have a crappy person with you they can scare you pretty badly. I saw that he was wigging out huge so I just sort of humored him, tried to be calm and didn't want to make him feel like he was a nut case, which he obviously was.

Eventually he was in the corner of the room with a chair in front of him staring at the ceiling telling me that he is seeing demons and they are gonna get him and that I CANNOT leave him. At this point all I want to DO is leave him. I was afraid he was going to turn on me..and don't forget that I was totally wasted too at this point. I went through phases of whacking coke during my addiction..and this was one of my off season's, so my tolerance was low. He was freaking out..okay fine, I could see that...but he was also totally scaring me. Not to mention this is all happening inside one of the most evil places on earth..a low income hotel on the downtown east side.

He had paid me the hundred bucks when we had arrived in the room but since I didn't even have to give him the bl*w*** I felt bad about taking that much money. This is when my humane side/moral virtue reared it's head. Yes, I was a crack/heroin abusing, homeless, sex selling, street urchin..but I had a conscience AND a heart. (Even now I remember times when I was down there..times when I had the opportunity to steal a bunch of dope or totally screw someone over..and I never did it. I mean if given the opportunity I would take advantage of certain situations for sure but...for example, I had this "date" that became a dope delivery driver..he was totally into me..he told me he loved me and stuff. He worked pretty much 24 hours a day and whenever we were together and we were parked hanging out..I was getting high or whatever, he would pass out from exhaustion. He always hid his dope in his steering wheel. The center horn part could be popped out and inside was a hollow space for his wares. The only time I ever stole from him while he was sleeping was ONE TIME and I didn't even take all of it. I took a quarter gram of down and a big rock of crack. At the time I didn't want him to realize afterward that I had pinched from him...and if he DID it was a small enough amount where I could pay him back - plus I didn't want him getting in trouble with his bosses. But he never even mentioned it! He didn't even KNOW that I had ripped him off. Sigh...I coulda taken a bunch more. Why do I still think about these things? I have no idea. It is scammer's remorse maybe.)

Back to Jason: He was freaking and I told him that I needed to go get my jacket, that I had left it outside. As I was trying to retreat and get the hell out of there..I put half of the money that he had given me ($50) on the bed..I said that I was leaving it there so he would know I was coming back after I got my jacket. I had no plans of coming back...but I needed to give him some of that cash back..he was wasted and I could have taken ALL of his money had I wanted to. I didn't want to though. I gave him the money back because he had already given me dope, I hadn't even had to do anything to him (sexually) and I was bailing on him in his time of need. That sounds stupid probably, but it is true.

When I was backing out of the door assuring him I WAS coming back..he was almost in tears in the corner of the room...chair still in front of him...almost screaming at me telling me he will give me more money and to please not leave. I left. I had no jacket that I had to retrieve and I did not return.

The second time I saw this individual it the same time of night on some random side street off of the stroll..he recognized me and I him..and he wanted to give me $35 for a hummer in a close by parking lot. Again he seems super amped..but he tells me he remembers how I didn't f*ck with him the last time he saw me when he was wasted beyond comprehension. Again he wants me to wait until he does his whack of up...and recalling what happened last time..I accepted his proposition knowing I most likely wouldn't have to do anything to him (hum-wise) at all. This time I refused his offer of giving me a fix though. He did his hit...unzipped...freaked out..and then stood up and told me to forget about it. I offered him his money back and he said no. This whole interaction took about 4 minutes.

The third time I saw Jason it was daytime...he wanted to get a room and get high and blah blah blah. Same story...same things happened. I did get high this time...nothing too exciting about this incident. We just did dope...he kept wanting me to service him..but wouldn't sit still. I walked out of there with twenty bucks (from him) that time. He had no money when the hour was up...I already HAD money before even meeting up with him...and since all I did was his dope and didn't even even have to touch him..I gave him some of his money back again.

The last time I saw him it was in an alley right by Oppenheimer Park. It was rainy and the alley was muddy and it was just all around a miserable night for all junkies/street urchins/prostitutes etc. This time he had $20 and some coke and wanted to give me ten bucks and a bunch of coke to go down on him. I said "no". He was very sketchy and as I walked away he was bending down sucking puddle water into his rig cause he had no sterile water to mix his coke with.

He was a dope addict but not one that I saw very often on a street level..he obviously had another life - or he did when I initially met him...but then over time his using got progressively worse.

The first time he ran up beside me and asked me for a date he was about the same age as me or maybe a few years older..his clothes were clean..his hands were clean...and he was hot. I mean it, he was a total babe. He was one of those slightly framed males that were obviously very much a man but had a distinctly feminine look to him. He was pretty. When I last saw him he was none of those things. He looked about twenty years older, he was dirty, pathetic and using muddy water from an alley to slam his coke.

Do you even care?