He said he was a professional gambler....

Does it get redundant when you tune in to the new post and it starts out "it was late on a Friday night..."? Because honestly, unless otherwise specified, my memory makes me FEEL like most of the stories I tell have taken place on Friday (or weekend nights). But not this one....this one tells of a night..and it was late..but I am almost positive it was a Wednesday. Or maybe a Thursday.

For some weird reason I can even remember what I was wearing that night. No, not your usual street sex attire....(I used to see girls in bikini tops in the winter...when I asked one girl about it, she said she just got used to the cold. In the winter I was dressed complete in: winter coat, scarf, toque, mitts - NOT GLOVES - I am not a glove person, never have been. I remember this girl, Tamara used to wear this bunny outfit that looked like a costume from"The Shining". I may have mentioned her before. I am almost positive she must be dead now. Poor Tamara, she was so awesome in her dedicated creepiness. Who knows though - maybe she got out, like me...but I doubt it.)

ANYWAYS, I remember that I was wearing a long sleeved t-shirt under a short sleeved t-shirt, jeans and sneakers. I remember this because earlier that night I had been "hired" (I need to check my thesaurus for a different word) by this Chinese guy Mike. Mike was very tiny and nice, but super perverse and wouldn't even look at me during the act. I remember him asking me shyly one day if it bothered me if he looked at Internet porn of ethnic women w/ huge boobs taking it in the "second vagina" (that is the anus, in case you hadn't figured it out). Like as if I cared what the hell he looked at as long as it got him finished sooner. It was still funny that he asked my permission. I had been at Mike's house that afternoon and I guess I had fallen asleep after our rendezvous and he had washed and dried my clothes for me before I woke up. It is this memory that had provided me with all these unnecessary details like what I was wearing this particular evening. These unnecessary details I am now sharing with you.

Like I said it was late, like maybe 3 am at least. I had just gotten ripped off by this guy Spider. I had like $100 and gave him $40 for dope, $30 for me - $10 for him. He gave me something but it wasn't heroin. Wasn't a big deal though - he was shifty, I should have known better and I had lots more money. He ended up getting me back though, one welfare day - and again our "friendship" was harmoniously balanced.

I was walking back up Hastings with some REAL dope in my pocket and this snazzy, black car pulled over. Bold a sh*t right on Hastings, right by the Police station...the passenger window came down and there was a very handsome Black man asking me to join him in his car. I got in and immediately his main concern was that I was underage. HA, as if - I must have been 26, but I was super skinny and since pig tails was my usual hairstyle..I guess I can understand it??. I found I made more money with pigtails. Men are so easy...sigh. Beyond that, he just wanted me to go with me to his house - as his wife and children were out of town (bit of a scum bag) - and do...what we do. Fine- verbal agreement made- and travelling to his pad ensues. On the way to his house is when he told me he was a professional gambler. Whatever that is..I mean, I KNOW what that is but I had never met a professional gambler before. Like a successful, professional gambler. Gambling addicts sure, but not anyone that was providing a life for themselves and their families through playing poker (which was his game). He had a wickedly nice car, a super nice condo...expensive furniture...and all that.

When we got to his place, the first order of business was that I had to have a shower. He was very concerned about my cleanliness....and being safe. Which seems totally ridiculous for someone that just brought me to his HOUSE..(one of the top five things to never do with a prostitute)..but whatever. The transaction was completed in the physical sense..but at the end, catastrophe. The condom had broken. He spazzed, obviously. Me? Not so much.

He was very upset, asking me over and over if I was clean, if I had AIDS or any other STD's. I told him the truth, I told him no, I didn't have anything. As far as I knew I didn't have anything. Of course I hadn't been tested in at least 2 years...so as far as the most recent information that I had been made aware of..I was clean. My telling him this was no comfort to him.

Right before he placed me in a cab headed back towards downtown he asked me if I would go and get an HIV test done. I said sure but told him that it was going to take at least 2 weeks for the results to come back and he was fine with that. He said if I went and did the test and called him after, he would give me a hundred bucks. Like I said he was very, very worried. He told me that until he heard from me and I told/showed him proof (photocopy of lab results, I guess) that I was HIV negative, he would be stressing big time. He also said that if he didn't hear from me that he would assume the worst.

So, he wrote his info on a piece of paper : Ray Allen, 604-WHT-EVER (obviously the number escapes me. I am sharing his name because that name isn't a particularly memorable one and even if he DID somehow get connected by the details I have included here, then so be it. I have come clean on my side and now it is your turn to be a man, Ray). But I never called him...nope, didn't.

The reason I still remember this and feel bad about it is because I DO know how stressful and all consuming it can be when you realize that you have put yourself at risk for contracting the HIV virus (I mean how concerning it is for the average citizen. Obviously, I put myself at risk continuously while on the street - but just didn't think about it). It isn't cool...it is ALL you can think about and it sucks. No sleeping, no eating, lots of bitterness, you already have plans about how you would tell your family, etc.

I never called him even knowing that he would most likely be vomiting with worry because of it. My complete lack of caring, plus my tendency to be totally unreliable and trustworthy, oh and don't forget my laziness and overwhelming urge to get high, led me to not call him. I knew I wasn't going to call him right when I was telling him I would call him. He wasn't going to get to get his answer in a "quick" ten or so days...he would have to wait the entire "gestation" period (or whatever it is called)...6 months (plus?) was the usual.....enough time to give him an ulcer.

But now you know, Ray Allen, the professional gambler. I am HIV negative....sorry it took so long....we good now?

Say hi to our wife and tell her she has a lovely home.