A Celebration of Decline

This time I will be changing a name. Not out of kindness (as if) but just because. I get a thrill when I tell a story about "John" that drove the silver SUV or whatever...because if by some odd chance John ever came across this - he would probably pee his pants thinking that he is outed. When in reality he isn't the only John driving that type vehicle and certainly not the only one with that name/car cruising for girls on the stroll. But I am not going to leave out ANY details besides his real name. It isn't a very common name and for some reason my insides are telling me to leave that much out. Who knows why - but I can't argue with nature.

Okay so there was this guy, doesn't matter what his name is..I will call him D. Klein (ha ha "decline" - but that is his first initial and half of his last name though. Remember!! No one is completely safe). I was out one night working - it was early..and this creme coloured 70's Monte Carlo was cruising. Hard. (Oh, typing "hard" made me think about one sleazy thing some guys used to do. They would cruise for chicks and then pull up to talk to you and actually just be driving around with their c*cks out, masturbating. They would get all thrilled when we would spot their "pieces" through the open window. Like as if we were supposed to be impressed. As if I am going to be sooo into doing a date with him because of what his junk looks like. Idiots.)

So D was cruising and I think I winked at him or something or did something to get his attention, who knows what it was. See most girls would just run after the cars (yes, they did that) so anyone cruising always had to make sure that their doors were locked because girls would jump right in and not get out unless they got some money. I preferred a different approach. If you seem like real person then chances are you would make money faster. Plus, I had lots of confidence, which came hand in hand with being lit up most of the time. So, of course, he parked and came over for a chat. A deal was struck and I agreed to accompany him to his house which was very close by.

He was nice, not bad looking, totally normal and we did what we did and that was it. When he dropped me off I said "see you tomorrow" because I knew he would be back. He was too, the next day, which was sooner than I thought, but money is money.

We ended up spending quite a bit of time together...he grew a particularly obsessive yet totally not unexpected fondness for me. It happens out there, as I have mentioned before. They think they love you, want to save you and all that crap. He was like that but sort of different. Maybe in real life we would have hit it off. Probably not though, doesn't matter really.

He knew I worked the streets and never tried to get me to stop...outright. I would spend the night at his house sometimes and he would leave me some money on the table so I could get well in the morning. Then of course... the inevitable...these guys always want to save you and make you better and then the girl is supposed to be all grateful and he owns her and all that other vomitus stuff. When this would happen with guys one would have to buy into it to a certain extent. What I mean is, is that if they want you to get clean then you tell them you will get clean. Then they give you money, thinking they are investing in the future maybe and everything is fine. They are so oblivious to the fact that you have no intentions of following through but if you tell them that then is no more money. I mean, if I was wasted enough I could say anything and mean it. A few times I probably said I would go to detox and believed it when I said it.

Anyways, we were chilling..time was passing. I think he even gave me a key to his house once....he took me to his work (a bakery that he owned and operated, he supplied most of the baked goods for the airport, etc) and he would feed me...wash my clothes..he even met my parents when I was at their place for a couple of weeks when my Dad had decided to rescue me. D came out there and got me and brought my parent's all this bakery stuff. Of course I told my Dad he was a friend of mine from "recovery" not that he was a "date" and then when he was gone, me and my Dad would laugh (not at him, really) because he wasn't the only one that was trying to get a hold of me at my parent's. We laughed because I was the worst possible candidate for a romance but yet they persisted. (The time at my parent's only lasted about 2 weeks - read back posts if you don't know this.)

So, eventually it came the time that I had to put out or get out as they say. I had put myself into a bit of a corner and I had even made a detox appointment (to get a bed) and everything. It was agreed that I would go make as much money as possible - buy as much dope as I could and then be back at a reasonable hour and have my last hurrah, so to speak. Then go to detox the next afternoon.

That night was a particularly prosperous one for me. My first date took a measly 15 mins and I made about $120 bucks. I called him, stoked, to tell him what happened and I remember he made me so mad. He didn't believe that I had done some simple sexual favour and gotten paid that much. He thought for sure that I must have been anally raped by five guys or something. Like as if he didn't think my time was worth that amount of money. Cheap bastard - just because HE didn't think it was worth that much, that didn't mean every one didn't. Whatever, I made money, went back to his house and the next day came. He had to work that day so he didn't take me to detox, my (previously mentioned) friend Richard did.

I sneaked in some crack with me and made it through the first night. I think I was on methadone at that time so I wasn't overly concerned with being dope sick but jonesing is just as bad. Crack is also a terrifying and intimidating habit to kick, despite it not being "physically addictive (so some say).

The first FULL day I had at detox I had had it arranged that the individual that had dropped me off the day before was to come visit me and then drop a rock in my hand on the way out. BUT, D happened to decide to visit me the same day and ran into Richard at the door. One visitor per person, I guess, and D (having a major hate on for my "friend" Richard) made sure to stay the whole hour so I wasn't able to see the other guy and so I didn't get my rock. Needless to say, I left detox about 15 minutes after visiting time ended. I used to think about that and think what if I HAD gotten that rock, I would have at least made it through detox another day. Maybe.

Oh, and just to be super nice and win over all of the ladies that worked the detox D.Klein even brought me flowers when he came to visit. Later on he told me that when he went back the next day to visit again and found that I was gone....all the ladies told him how sweet he was and that no one ever brought flowers two days in a row. Was I a jerk for leaving? Maybe, I never said I was a princess, he picked me up on the street for f*ck sakes.

D and I had minor dealings after that. Immediately after the whole detox fiasco he made a habit of picking up other girls and driving by me, like as if I cared. I just wanted to do my job and get high, the end. He even chased some cars I got into, screaming that I was his girlfriend. Me and my cohort would just laugh. But of course, D came back, eventually. I had a gift and he wanted it. It was never like it was in the beginning, though. He ended up finding out that I had been raiding his house for hidden money (raiding that took place during our "romance" - I don't know what to call it- but he didn't realize it until months after I did it) and as a payback he acted all nice to me, bought me dope and let me sleep at his house one night. When I woke up and he was gone to work - I saw he left me no money to get well and so I was sick and had to make my way downtown on my own. No money for even bus fare.

That was his best revenge, I guess. It sucked but it wasn't overly harsh. I woke up sick everyday anyways and most of the time I didn't have any money to get better, I had to go and make it first. The only thing that was a bit of a screw over was that if I had known I was going to be broke when I woke up, then I wouldn't have even gone to sleep.

It was just business between us in the end. I never went to his house again though or anything like that. He treated me just as a prostitute after that. He paid me money to do things, and I did them. I know he got sublime satisfaction though on the super cold, winter early mornings that he would see me out there, knowing I was most likely sick as f*ck. He worked really early in the morning and the stroll was actually on the way to his shop.

Four times I was put into detox by "dates" that were having crazy fantasies of our future lives together..and this time was the longest I stayed. 26 hours.