Sunday, February 13, 2011


Just hang's hard to concentrate while I wait for the liquid inspiration to kick in....ahhh, almost there - now I just need to switch off the Kardashians..and here we are.

How did I meet R? Well, he was a dope dealer. A good dope dealer - good in the sense that he sold good dope. But he wasn't a bad guy either. I have decided to share with you everything that is R. Or just how I met him, things that happened with us and yeah. We had a very volatile and tumultuous relationship.

I met R after I had been working the street for a while. When I first began working downtown I sort stayed around the center of the insanity and he worked a few blocks away, near Oppenheimer park. I guess he had spotted me walking by sometime and eventually approached me. See that is what the dope dealers do, they can just spot a girl and know that they can have sex with her. As long as they have dope that they can pay with.

He approached me and asked me if I would "like to spend some time" with him. Meaning would I be interested in doing a date with him for dope. I said yes, of course.

R in an interesting character. He is very small, in the sense that he isn't a tall guy. He is white but is from somewhere around Trinidad or St. Thomas or something so he is a white guy with a Jamaican accent. It is really quite endearing. At the time he must have been about 40-43, I am not exactly sure. At the time I was about 28 maybe. He wasn't unattractive but wasn't overly attractive. Let's say he is more attractive THAN unattractive. When I first met him he had never tried heroin before though he did sell it. He had been a crack head years before - I will touch on this a bit later on in the post.

We arranged a meeting place for a few hours later at a mutually convenient place (a seedy by the hour establishment). We did the date and he paid me EXTREMELY well. Afterwards, he asked me if i would meet him again later and would I agree to spend the night with him. Oh yes, I said, I will. He met me that night, picked me up in his White Chevette (that he had bought for an eight ball of cocaine) and we went to the Inter City Hotel in Burnaby. He told me he had enough dope for me to last about 4 days and enough money that we wouldn't have to leave before then. Since my life basically consisted of ensuring I didn't get dope sick and that was pretty much it - it was a fabulous plan.

We did the four days at the Inter City Hotel and then eventually ended back downtown - but somwhere during our days together we sort of hit it off and he invited me to stay at his house with him. He lived with another guy in a neighbouring area. He had to go downtown everyday anyways, he sold his dope daily from 10-2 so I could get a ride in with him. He wasn't like most guys - he was fine with my prostituting and never made me feel bad about it. Well, he did have a problem with me doing dates with his roommate. He knew I needed money though so just looked the other way when it happened.

So, as I am typing this I am thinking that I could probably bore you with a play by play of my entire friendship with him. But I won't do that. What I will do is touch on the highlights of our relationship.

R was the first guy to ever smack me in the face. I mean, I had been hit before but he smacked me like a girl smacks a guy when he disrespects her or something. I guess you could say that at the time R and I were considered to be an item but if you have ever been a prostitute you know that this really means nothing. You have no loyalties. The only loyalty I had for R was that he gave me a place to sleep, he would come and get me wherever I was no matter what time of day or how f*cked up I was, and he had dope. Sure, I must have TOLD him that I "liked" him and of course I did, as much as I could like anyone that offered me what he did. He made my life much easier and we WERE friends. R had issues though. It almost seemed like anyone in his life up until when I knew him had never really loved him or gave a sh*t about him. The day that he had smacked me I had been running around with this guy Greg and had been hiding it from R. He had asked me if something was going on and I had denied it. Then he happened upon us holding hands somewhere and had come right up to me on the street and smacked me HARD across the face. I totally deserved it though-at that point R had been nothing but good to me. Plus, Greg was a f*cking idiot. I mean, one time he fell asleep whilst trying to give me oral pleasure and it was so ridiculous. He was totally using me. I made money and he needed money. Needless to say, Greg and my's relationship ended right there.

R told me stories about when he was younger, when he lived in Trinidad (I'll just say Trinidad because it may be there or somewhere close by there). I can't remember too much if what he told me about when he was little but I do remember him telling me about when he was a crackhead there. He told me about being a dope addict and being a white guy there and having to hide underneath porches (from the po-po that would be screaming through the city on Jeeps with guns in hand) once the curfew that had been put it place had passed each day. He told me about one time that a young girl had asked her voodoo-ey grandparent (he had heard the exchange) about why this man was hiding under their porch. The elderly woman had explained that he was being haunted by demons. Which he was, I guess.

I remember when R decided to enlist me as his partner in crime in regards to the dope selling and I would hold the dope while he sold it then he would call me on his cell (that I had) and I would meet up with him to replenish his supply (what does REplenish even mean?? You would think to have to REplenish something it would have to be plenished in the first place). This plan of his only lasted one day. He did one round of dope selling and then we met up and he gave me the $$ and I gave him more up and down and then I took off with the money and the dope and disappeared for like 3 days. And when I saw him again he wasn't even mad. He said "you are a dope addict, I sort of expected this" and asked me if I was sick and threw me 2 papers of down.

I remember him telling me about how he was in love with a girl that was HIV positive. Then I remember when she died.

I remember him begging me to let him go down on me and me agreeing to only after he had given me a huge wack of coke to do. I kept my eyes squeezed shut the whole time. I remember him having issues with premature ejaculation.

I remember the first time he shot up. I remember that I was the one that did it. I remember that it was at that point that his life changed. I know that he still battles with it, even now. I remember when he told me he was hep c positive and he didn't even blame me (of course, he could have given it to me but it was probably the other way around).

I remember Christmas day being so dope sick and he was on day 2 of kicking it (yet again) and he wouldn't give me anything, told me to f*ck off and to go find dope somewhere else. I mean, he was kicking heroin but had heroin on him to sell and wasn't doing it. Who does that?? R did.

This is probably one of my less interesting posts but I thought it was necessary, since he is using again and it makes me sad. It depresses me to think that someone like him is still battling with it. Especially because he has no one that cares about him, no one to give him support. There is more I could write and if I think of anything to add I will include next time.

Anyways, I'll wrap it up now. Maybe next time I will write a post with more vulgar details and more degradation to make sure your sick appetite is satiated.