the precipice

I guess I should start at the beginning of how it all fell apart. I am going to try to keep this condensed into one post but it is a lot of information so it may have to be broken down into a series. Keep in mind that this will in no way be filtered - I need to be totally honest and get it out there - it isn't nice and it isn't pretty and it isn't going to make you laugh - or it might, who knows. If anything - it will probably just confirm a thought that I am sure most individuals have when knowing me "wow, I am so glad I am not her".

It all began in January. I had been seeing this guy, I had known him years ago and we were basically communicating through emails. It was slow at first but then eventually I was all in, on paper - he was so fantastic. Now, talking about him isn't really that relevant to the events but I feel like talking about it, so I will. If you know me at all (which you really don't but let's pretend that you do) you'll know that i have a certain criteria when dating. It really isn't an insane, crazy list of things that must be checked off..just some things I prefer. Vocabulary is one, spelling and grammar/punctuation is another. I am not perfect by any means, but I feel like when one is a poor speller etc, they are just being lazy and I don't like it. Anyways, I was seriously invested in this guy - he wasn't super hot or anything - not at all actually. But he was thin (which I like) he had tattoos, which isn't a deal breaker but I sure like it and he was funny as f*ck. Which is key. Oh and yes, he was extremely intelligent.

So we were communicating back and forth for quite a while before we actually hooked up. He lives about 45 mins from me. Apparently we had made out in the past - I have no recollection of this. But he wouldn't be the first guy that I can't remember making out with. Anyways, we only ended up hanging out about 5 times. The first tine I drank like 2 bottles of wine, made a complete ass of myself I am sure. It was doomed from the start though - as soon as I saw him it wasn't flowing like it should be. In emails we got along great but in person not so much to talk about. Which is why I dipped into the wine so heavily the first time. I was nervous.

The NEXT time we hung out, about 2 weeks later wasn't good. He was "depressed" (he had mentioned that he had always had an obsession with suicide - which I sort of ignored but now in retrospect I realize that something like that is pretty major). Anyways, as soon as he came in I felt his energy and how off it was. DOWNER. It was during this visit that he showed me his arms. And they had track marks on them. Not huge - but if you know what to look for - seeing them can be quite jarring. He had had a spell with heroin in the past as well, like me, but hadn't been nearly as f*cked up as I was. He told me that he and his friend had been doing coke on the weekends sometimes...and that the past weekend they had decided to whack it. I was shocked, really I was. I mean, first off, the guy had a son that lives with him - a 4 year old, just like me and I thought it was pretty lame of him to be doing that. At this point I already knew he wasn't the ONE for me but had liked him so much in the beginning that my 'vision" was clouded, sort of.

Now don't be freaking out and thinking that I started shooting coke with him. As if, coke sucks. BUT I will say that having him tell me that he had used for some reason, somewhere in the back of my stupid mind sort of opened a door that had been shut for a very long time. Like 5 years that door was shut. It wasn't immediately opened but the demon behind it was lurking and was waiting for his chance to make an appearance.

It is so f*cked how humans operate, I knew he wasn't for me - but had so counted on him being so that when he just stopped talking to me - I was devastated. I mean, I wasn't going to hang myself or anything (can't imagine liking anyone THAT much) but still, I was rejected - therefore I was heartbroken - his rejecting made me want him more.

I will just tell you about the last time we saw each other because I am sure it will be amusing for you. He had come over with his son and we going to take our boys to this indoor amusement center. I mean, I not big on family dates..because I would rather us still get to know each other without bringing the kids into the mix. It just throws things off..I was nervous, what if his kid doesnt like me (which is ridiculous because kids love me and I love them, but you know, its only natural to be nervous) and other sort of anxious thoughts.

So they came over, played upstairs for a bit..he and I were as usual, a little bit ill at ease..we both already knew I am sure that "we" weren't really going to go anywhere in terms of a relationship. Holy shit, I forgot to tell you something else about him. Are you familiar with the term ED? Erectile dysfunction? Well, he had that. the few times we made out he could hardly keep it up. I mean, I thought we were going to "go to town" since I was so mentally into him. It is easy to have sex, but when you are actually into it in your head, it is that much better - which is odd for me because honestly, I could take it or leave it most of the time. Sad, I know - but I am fine with it -so get over it. So anyways, no, it was difficult..for him - which was pretty bad for my self esteem, I must tell you. I used to be a prostitute - so having a guy not get off was totally something that I am not familiar with. I know that sounds terrible but it's true. Anyways, he did get me off..(or so he thought..haha). Yes, I faked it, don't be shocked - girls do it all the time. To any guys that are reading this - if she has had 2 bottles of wine..don't even bother. She is going to fake it. I would anyways. Me telling you this is my little f*ck you to him. He isn't a terrible person or anything, so don't think that. But f*ck him anyways.

Right, the last time we hung out we went to the indoor play center. On the way home, in his car, his son says "Dad, there is bird poop on the car window" (our children were in the back seats in their car seats). And he says "that's fine, we can clean it off later". So then I turn around to look at what his son was talking about and immediately I break into a sweat. It wasn't bird poop. My son had picked his nose and wiped on the window of his car. I couldn't just ignore it - I HAD to say something -I mean, he would figure it out anyways. So yeah, that was the last time we hung out.

Okay, I'm tired. That is enough for now. This should satiate your appetite for a while. This is only the beginning anyways - I need to rest up before I tell you more.

No Pictures Please

Yes, I know it's been a while.

But I've been busy....sort of.

I decided that today would be the day that I write a new post, lucky for you. See, as I was typing into Google "I hate my child's father"..it sort of inspired me - I could just write about some of the crazy shit that he did whilst we were together. People love reading about other people misery.

Oh, another piece of news, I just found out that I passed my occupational licensing exam. That's good I guess. I mean, I can hear it now..."way to go!!" and "you must be so proud" and "you have done so well". Blah blah blah. I mean, don't get me wrong, it's all nice to hear. But I am more like "okay, get over it..it'd been 4 years..it's about time I did something". I mean, isn't there some statute of limitations on getting your shit in order?? I'm over it, let's move on.

I get though, from an outside perspective - I am pretty much a living breathing miracle. But miracles are just miracles - they just are and it's isn't a big deal. The true miracle in ALL of this is that I am not HIV positive. I am still astounded by that.

So anyways, I rule.

------

You must have heard or read stories about abusive relationships and also about the paranoia associated with using crystal meth (hereafter to be referred to as speed. I hate the word "meth". Speed is so much dirtier and awesome and I just feel like that word sums "it" up so much more. Gibb is a good word too. of course, maybe it is spelled with a J but for some reason I always think of it with a G and a double B). This afternoon, as I was watching my son's Dad put him in the car seat to take him overnight (relax people, he has been clean for years too - otherwise I would not allow my son to be anywhere near him) I realized how f*cking crazy it is that I had a kid with this guy. This nightmare of an individual. I mean, who knew?

I am sure I told you all about how we met. It was a blistery and cold November night..he pulled up in his Ford Explorer (still hate those trucks to this day) and asked me if I wanted to hang out. Really, that's what he said. Like, he doesn't want ME, a prostitute, thinking he picks up prostitutes. And actually we didn't have sex that night. It was an okay time, he gave me money for dope - that was all I needed. Took me to his house - so I wasn't cold. But what is it with guys, they always want to save you. I mean, sure, I lived a miserable life but it was mine and I was only unhappy when I was dope sick. Which was only every single f*cking morning, not too often.

Anyways, if I had known then what I know now...the thing is, is that I couldn't get away from him. I would have been perfectly happy living with him and being "allowed" to go make money. But nooooo - that wasn't okay with him. Initially it was, but eventually no. Of course, when he had no money the cash I brought in was good enough to feed him and his habit.

I've already told you all this, you know, when he physically attacked me, etc. It is in previous posts. I wanted to get away from him. I ran away but I knew eventually he would find me. All he had to do was look - I was going to be downtown - I was terrified that he would find me at 3am in some dark alley and slit my throat. No joke, I really thought that. He was crazy - and the speed didn't help. He was convinced that the driving school that always took student drivers on a route that led past his house was not a driving school at all-it was a secret society of people watching him. He made lists of license plate numbers constantly, convinced that they were repeated hovering around him.

He was always so paranoid. He HATED any honking sound around him. Was sure it was a conspiracy of individuals that were communicating with each other via honking their vehicle horns. One time I was on the phone with him and a car honked in the background of wherever I was and he freaked. These are mild examples.

Once we had moved away from my red zone his behavior continued and escalated. And once he had me isolated it was even more alarming. By this point I was on methadone maintenance and was only using speed with him. Well, not WITH him. He would just give me some before he went out for days at a time. Or he would share with me and force me to go and help him "make money" in various shifty and sketchy ways. These times were the worst. I mean, ladies that have been in abusive relationships can relate. ANYTHING AND EVERYTHING you do is wrong.

We did the typical things..and this is humiliating to admit but we used to do that scrap metal thing. You know, go in to abandoned houses late at night and raid it for copper, aluminum..anything of value. Initially this was sort of fun, using speed sort of added to the effect of this..it was like being super f*cking excited about going on a treasure hunt. But, after a bit, his paranoia got worse and I wasn't ever allowed out of his sight or allowed in a different room as he was convinced that there was another guy in there and for sure I was blowing him. He would run into the room and be so sure that he was going to bust me on my knees in front of some street urchin, but it never happened. As if I would do that - do that and risk death upon discovery??

I wouldn't even make eye contact with men, and I would pray that no one would speak to me ever because that would get me in big trouble. It sounds so insane when I say this but it's true. He was totally text book. One time he accused me of having an affair with the guy at a pizza place because i took too long getting our food. He even told me he was sure that "our" son wasn't his at all, that he had been sired by my sister's husband.

One time, we were living in this basement suite (I always insisted on basement suites because I knew there was people upstairs so they would hear me scream if he was trying to murder me) and he had come home from a few days out and he asked me how I was. Or something like that, he would never say that exactly, more like "what the f*ck have you been doing for the last 2 days?" and I had been watching alot of CSI. I was bored, all I could do was watch TV and I proceeded to tell him about how Gary Sinise from one of the CSIs did a cameo on another CSI (I know, very engaging conversation - but I had to say something or he would accuse me of sh*t and I was just trying to make small talk) and wow, he totally lost it.

See, stupid me, I wasn't even thinking. Just by coincidence the family that lived upstairs from us had a 16 year old son named Gary. No big deal right? WRONG. He, in his twisted mind, thought I was telling him about Gary Sinise verbally but mentally I was making love to the 16 year old boy that lived upstairs and actually been doing that in real life for some time. It was this night that he actually told me he WAS going to kill me. In fact, he just leaned in real close and said "you're dead" and when I said "I'm sorry, ****, I am so sorry, I didn't mean anything by it" he said "oh, you are gonna say my name huh?? Say my name so they know it's me??!!". Like, who else would it be? Retard.

He ended up taking off and I just went to bed. See, I was on methadone, like I said, and could pretty much fall asleep at anytime if I stayed still long enough. Anyways, I went to bed. And he came back like 4 times that night. And every single time he would just walk in the house, rip off my blankets to see if I was in street clothes and not in my pajamas. He was sure he had seen me in a few cars passing by him while he was driving. Was sooo sure he would come home to bust me. But no.....spazz, I was in bed not out prowling the streets like him.

It's amazing that I had a baby with this guy. My son came home from a visit with his Dad a couple of weeks ago and said "Mummy, Daddy had a sleep over" and as I questioned him (my son) it all came out. He has a girlfriend. Great, soo glad, finally. Of course, I do feel sorry for her. Even though he isn't using anymore - he is still an idiot. But I asked him about it, I just wanted to make sure she wasn't a nutcase or a dope addict if she is going to be around my son. But then he proceeds to tell me he isn't really into her anyways and it's sort of weird, etc. Like as if I care. I am just glad he has moved on, it's been forever.

But then, the next day I get an email from him and it was all "Oh, I want to ask you some questions but I get all nervous and filled with butterflies...did you ever love me?" (NO) and then goes on to say "You are such a good mother to our son" (I know that, and don't need or want to hear that from you) and "I am so proud of how far you have come" (BARF, seriously, that makes me want to vomit - I am not kidding, my mouth is watering right now just thinking about it. Proud of ME? Again, don't want or need to hear that from you) and then, and I get this quite often "You looked so beautiful when I picked up **** the other night..." UGH. Beautiful? How so? Was it the fact that I was geeking out in my broken glasses that are being held together with electrical tape or the mustard stain on my t shirt?? I usually don't look my best when he comes by.

Anyways, surrender the fantasy, buddy. I can honestly say, that even if he was the last man on Earth would I NEVER. EVER. People always say that the day their child was born was the best day of their life..not so with me. The best day was the day I left my son's Dad. And it was 4 years ago on June 3rd.

More than 10 and Less Than 1000

In the beginning, as in one of my first posts, I wrote about the first time I "prostituted" myself. Remember, it was by accident?? Anyways, it was with an Italian man named Alex. Well, his and my relationship wasn't just a one time thing - we actually saw each other throughout the first year of my selling myself. One time he had a proposition for me and it wasn't for sex. He wanted me to marry his friend so his friend could be a citizen, and I almost did it. Why? Because I had nothing better to do. It wasn't the first time I was offered something like this. One time I was offered like 20 grand to marry this Irish guy I met at a downtown hostel. He was on the run from the IRA or something - I am not big on international politics but I am pretty sure that is what he told me. But this is neither here nor there. I said no to this Irish guy - he showed me the money though - he had it strapped to his belly and it was the most money I had ever seen in one place at one time.

Anyways, yeah, Alex asked me to marry his friend. This has no real significance except I remember the night BEFORE I was supposed to meet him (and the guy he wanted me to marry). I had been picked up by this hot little skinny Asian guy. He was sooo cute and he asked me if I wanted to come sleep over at his house and I hadn't slept for a few days and also needed a shower so I said yes. We went to his house and it was pretty messy - reminiscent of the A & E show Hoarders but the bathroom - it was the worst bathroom I had ever seen. The shower was brutally disgusting, even for me. Not that I was disgusting in any way (not that I had ever had 3 sexually transmitted infections at the same time, now THAT would be disgusting right?? It wasn't my vagina that shrank to about one/25th it's actual size during that dark time?)- but I had been in some pretty harsh places by that point (not a reference to my vagina) and this one was in the top ten most grotesque.

You know when you go to someone's house and on the outside they seem totally normal but then the toilet at their house it black on the inside and super sick and all you can think is "all they need to do is use a friggen' toilet brush and the thing would be clean", well THIS guy's bathroom pales in comparison. It was his shower, it was terrible. I didn't even want to get in it but I sort of had to. I was afraid of slipping and falling on the black sliminess that was the shower floor. I stood on my tip toes and tried to not touch anything. You know your bathroom is bad when a prostitute is afraid of it. It was with this guy that I spent the night with before I met Alex and his friend.

We met (Alex and friend) at the Greyhound Station, outside, at the park. I was looking rough, I'd imagine. His friend must have been really desperate to agree to anything with me. I remember Alex being mad at me for looking so shitty.

So, we met and then Alex and I left to go downtown to get the paperwork. First, I had no ID. So, getting me my ID was the first order of business. We went to the Vital Statistics office to get my birth certificate. And we got it. Alex probably has it still. Who knows what he can do with it. We never did take this whole marrying thing any farther. So there is no second part to this story.

So somewhere out there there is a birth certificate for yours truly in the possession of a shady and fat Italian man. And he knows my mother's maiden name.

----

Did I ever tell you guys about Mike? He was the first man that picked me up when I actually stood on the street corner looking for a "date". He was very nice. Just an older man wanting some female attention. He took me shopping and bought me a bunch of clothes and shoes and since I was still living with my bf at the time, when I decided to go home, I had to secure all the stuff in a locker at the bus station. My bf ended up finding the key and going down there and getting the stuff. Can't imagine what he thought when he saw it all.

And actually, the time I was picked up by Mike, the first time (because there is usually is always a second time) we drove right by my crying bf who was walking the streets looking for me. And we just drove right by. I didn't take a second glance. Heartless person I am. Was. But still when I finally had to put out for Mike, he being the first guy that I actually had SEX with for money - I did tear up a bit. The usual thought "how the f*ck did I get here?" came to mind.

Well, he DID buy me boots.

R

Just hang on..it'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.

Waking Up with C*ck in Mouth

So, if you are following me on Twitter you know what the rest of the world knows: somewhere between now and my last post I seemed to have misplaced my notebook. THE NOTEBOOK. The one that has random ideas, happenings and other tantalizing anecdotes that I use solely for the purpose of amusing you, my internet legion. Now, I have nothing more to rely on then my cell phone, sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and type a note into it. Or, I will be having a conversation with someone and it will remind me of that time I was ****ing Jimmy behind the Circle K and I may act like I am checking my text messages but I am not. I am making an note. Now you know.

Since it has been a good month (meaning at least a month, not in the sense that it has been a GOOD month - though it hasn't been especially painful) I have decided just to write about my last "note"that I put in my phone. The note merely says "waking up with cock in mouth". So, here we go:

It was a Friday night (seems it is always a Friday, doesn't it?) and I was on Dunlevy, in the side doorway of the Patricia Hotel. I had had a good evening so far that night. I specifically remember having a nice spot o' the crack cocaine in my pocket and at least 5 bucks in the other pocket. No immediate down sickness in sight.

Now, if caught in the right frame of mind and with a nice amount of dope, I could be relied on for being up to pretty much anything. Of course, if I was f*cking desperate I could be up for anything as well but on this night, I wasn't desperate. I remeber this one desperate Sunday morning I accepted an offer to go to Squamish with this intense dude with nothing more than a promise of a healthy amount of cocaine as payment. How will I get back? I asked and he said, "Don't worry about it!". So I didn't. And then ended up by some shady railroad tracks hitchhiking a ride back to Vancouver. I was sick as f*ck and the old man that gave me a ride kept asking me if I needed to go to the hospital. Bless him, he drove me almost the whole way.

ANYWAYS,

So, it was Friday, I was working and this youngish guy came up to myself and another female and initially he just wanted to score some dope (crack). Then somehow between the score and him going home he had asked me to go with him and I had agreed. When I think back I think I may have been short of a couple nights sleep - not realizing how perilously close to unconsciousness I really was.

We went to his house. It wasn't too far from the hood. I mean, it was still in Vancouver anyways. We went to his house and he was just like any other crack smoking guy. He wanted to do dope and to get a bl*wjob. Fine, I did that all the time. BUT, usually me and the "guy" would at least hang out and do our dope. There was some sense of comraderie usually but not with him. I don't know how long I managed to stay awake for but all I can remember is waking up periodically with his c*ck in my mouth. Like, I would come to and he was forcing me to give him oral sex. I mean, how can that even be satisfying? I was so out of it.

The next moring I was sooo dope sick, I knew I hadn't smoked all my dope because I had been asleep but the crack (his and mine) was gone and so was my 5 bucks. What a jerk off.

Anyways, he was pissing and whining that he didn't want to give me a ride back downtown. But since he lived a basement suite I threatened to scream bloody murder so the upstairs folks would hear me and I told him I knew where he lived so he had to driveme downtown or I would come back with my gang of thugs (what thugs?).

He took me as far at the Greyhound Bus station at Main and Terminal. I was crying that I was so sick and couldn't possibly walk the rest of the way and you know what he did? He punched me in the face and told me to get the f*ck out of his truck. Nice.

It is so weird for me to think that this was actually my life. Things like this happen all the time. It's awful and true.

That is basically the end of this story. You want to know what happened next? Well, let's just say that it involved heroin, cocaine, money, prostitution and a needle exchange. Oh and some major bouts of dope sickness in between.

-----------

Right here I would like to mention that my friend from down there, whom I refer to as R has recently informed me that he is using again. I am sorry R, and I love you.

4 Years

Okay so, do you ever have those moments, those defining moments when you are pretty sure you are going to hell?? What I mean is, have you done things that you know might make your entrance into heaven (which I do believe exists in some context) a little dicey? Regardless of your beliefs you must know what I am talking about.

Most of the occurrences that I am referring to happened during my drug abuse. People do stupid sh*t when they are on drugs. Given, people do stupid sh*t all the time but I find that anything "bad" I may do now is definitely forgivable. But some stuff, when I think back..it makes me cringe. I am not going to go into to detail naming off the horrible things I have done just so you can feel better about yourself ("at least I was never as bad as HER, at least I never contracted hep C blah blah blah, at least I never had sex for money" - you probably DID have sex for money at some point you just didn't realize it) - I am just going to tell you about one time. And it isn't even a long story but I still feel bad about. I know my stepmum will probably read this and I just want to tell her that I am sorry..but she knows what I was going through at the time so hopefully P, you will understand. You were there when it happened and you were so nice to me and I totally was sh*tty and I am sorry.

Okay, to put it bluntly.. I smoked crack in the bathroom at a Christian bookstore. There it is, that is it. I have other sorts of regrets from way back when like missing my Grandmother's funeral - that was bad. I wasn't even a prostitute then but unless I could have taken my dope dealer to the island with me there was no way I could go. I still feel sad when I think about it. Grandma, I love you and I am sorry I missed your funeral. I think she heard me.

Back on topic.

This bookstore situation occurred during a brief stint when my loving Father and Stepmother were keeping me/allowing me to stay at their house in an (unwanted by me) attempt at getting it together. Anyone that has ever been addicted to a substance knows that ANYTHING and ANYTIME is an opportunity. Now, it just so happens that my parents' house was not too far from a house that I had "lived" at for a while, when I was staying with my friend R (I have mentioned him before). I had left clothes and things there and called R and asked him if he could put my stuff in a bag and I would come to get them since I had no clothes at my parents' place. He said he would but I wasn't able to go and just pick them up from the house we had been sharing. The other guy that lived there was super paranoid and thought that my stepmother would plant microphones in his house or something so we had to find a different place to do the hand off. This guy, the paranoid one, was always like this. He honestly thought that there was bugs in his car because the gov't wanted to keep an eye on him. Him, a forty something guy with a factory job that did a paper of heroin every six months or so. As if, but besides this he was a really nice guy just very misunderstood.

Anyways, the other issue was that my stepmum would not let me see or be in the same room as R because she thought maybe he would be able to sneak me a piece, as in he might slip me something dope-ish and, well, that would be bad. But see, I was crafty and had spoken basically in code to R when I had called about my stuff and got him to put a huge rock (of crack) in the garbage bag of clothes for me. My stepmum and I drove to a neighbor's house (R had an acquaintance that was in no way dope affiliated) and we picked up the bag of clothes there. As you can well imagine I was almost pissing myself in anticipation.

Now understand this, it wasn't like I was going cold turkey at my parent's house. I mean, they were giving anything a go in order to keep me safe. I was on methadone and my Dad had bought me a certain amout of crack that was supposed to last me a week. I was allowed one ten dollar rock per night and I had to wait until he got home from work before I could get it. It was TORTURE. I mean, seriously, I am sure it would have been easier to go completely without than to have to wait all f*cking day to get ONE CRACK ROCK. Retarded, but of course this was way cool of him and he didn't have to do this. Needless to say they wised up pretty fast and stopped buying me crack since I was stealing it from them anyways and pinching money from their piggy banks, etc. But they were willing to try anything. So when the opportunity came up for me to sneak in an extra bit of dope I could not pass it up.

We went and picked up the bag of clothes. Then my stepmum decides she needs to go to the bookstore. Fine, I said, I will wait in the truck but as soon as she was out I was rifling though that bag fast as anything to find the rock. And I did find it and it was big. Man, I loved R. He always came though for me. He was a total prick and we abused each other left and right but thats what codependancy IS...so whatever.

I find the rock and couldn't even wait the 15 minutes or however long it would have been until we would have been on the way back to the house to smoke it. I had to smoke it ASAP. So I went in the bookstore and asked if I could use the bathroom (because of course, I had my pipe on me..rolled up in paper towel in my sock like I always did-duh). And I smoked it, right there, in the Christian Bookstore. I have smoked/done dope in a lot of places - even in the hospital bathroom when I went I checked myself in when I thought I was pregnant, which I was (yes, I DID - yes, I am terrible and I am sorry it happened. It was the last time I did it and this Dec 24th it will be 4 years since I last used heroin or cocaine- FYI.I am not proud of it but this blog is about truth and things like this do occur so f*ck you if you want to shake your head and judge me). And this time at the Christian bookstore, well I just hate that I did it there. Especially because my step mum is so sweet and I totally used and abused her and my father the whole time I was there. I remember that I smoked that rock so fast..the rest of it, once we got back to the house, and then just jonesed like hell until my Dad got home anyways. This is just such an ugly memory for me for some reason and it stresses me out to write about it.

Anyways, I want to wish everyone a Merry Christmas. Be safe and be happy.

S.

Sketches of Vancouver

I have decided to BEGIN with the asides this time and tell the main story after that. Okay so, this post is mainly about when I was having obvious mental delusions about what was reality and what was not. This isn't the only time I have "freaked" out, though it hasn't happened often. Just quickly I want to say that you may read this and think "wow, this totally isn't a harsh freak out" but it actually was. Enough so that it stayed with me. The other times that I lost my grip was when one time I had been up for days on speed and were convinced that my friends in the other room were planning a birthday party and were not going to invite me because I was too sketchy (which I wasn't but sleep deprivation plays tricks with your mind man...). Another time I remember (and I may have mentioned this in a previous post) was a time when I swore I could hear my "boyfriend" (a guy that I had been seeing on and off, he was date and wouldn't leave me alone) through a vent in my friend's hotel room talking and plotting how they were going to lure me into another room and murder me. Lastly, I will mention that I have not done much grammar or spell checking here - no time, I am a very important person you know....

Where was I??? Oh right, I was going to talk about a night way back that took place around Cambie and 41st. It starts the same as most of the other posts: I was on the stroll, it seems to me that it was a Friday or Saturday night (it's always easier to make money on weekends!! Yay!) - and I was in need of dope. I usually worked all the time, regardless if I had any dope or not already, if I was downtown, I was for sale.

I was in the hood, walking like I would, and a truck pulled up. Unassuming,

casual, smallish truck, no extended cab just room for the driver and one other person, and this night it was me that was the other person.

Immediately after getting in I could see this guy was wasted. He was very drunk. Was this a deterrent for me? No. His drinking and driving was not a problem for me. I wasn't worried about my own mortality, I faced it everyday, nor was I even the slightest concerned for the safety of the public. Sorry, but I just wasn't. I had been with drunk guys before, it happens. Most of the time it just makes them unable to "finish" or they are mildly unreasonable, big deal. And actually I did see this one girl get into this drunk guy's car one time..it was a red convertible and the guy picked up the girl and then took a corner real fast. Moments later I rounded the same bend and saw that right after they had sped around the turn the idiot drunk driver had put his shiny new car around a telephone pole. Awwww, poor him. No one was inured but I bet she was pissed off. Now she had to go find a new date. He would be good for no money.

So random guy picks me up in his truck and asks me if I know where he can get late night off sales. No, i told him except I sort of knew about this guy that ran one of the shady downtown bars that sort of sells (booze) from the hotel lobby. We drive down there and he bought some whiskey or something else equally disgusting. After this we were trying to think where we can go and he decides on Queen Elizabeth park. Now, since having sex in public places was my business I would normally have vetoed this suggestion but it was very late when this guy had picked me up, it was close to dawn and I figured by the time we drove there the sun would be pretty much up. Public parks like this one have hours usually ranging from 6 or 7 am until 10 at night but there is really no enforcing of these daytime hours. Police do cruise however but at least if it is light outside a car is not so obvious, unlike at night when headlights and the cover of darkness can give off a suspicious vibe to any officers or dogooder civilians that happen go by. So we get to the park, I think we did..I mean, I have been there lots of times but it seemed to me we were on the outskirts of it. We were within distance of residential homes so yeah. Anyways, moving on.

I had dope on me, it was crack cocaine and he was not keen on the idea of me smoking it in his new truck. He could be pissed drunk on stinky wild turkey but the scent of crack cocaine (which is really isn't a bad smell, it is sort of sweet if I am to be honest and it is definitely not a smell that sticks around) in his truck was not going to happen. I had to get out of the truck, do my toke and then get back in for whatever sexual favour he had requested, I have no idea what that was when I think back and it isn't even important.

He was sort of a sketchy guy. He was average, fairly attractive, nondescript really. He was sort of unstable - being that he was drunk and I guess that's what caused him to freak when he saw me doing a toke.... I did my toke and by the time I had started to exhale he had thrown my bag out of the driver's side door and squealed away. I was like "whaaaa???". I had been up for a few days and having just exhaled a major crack hoot in combination with his unexpected bail on me I started tripping. Hard. Usually, I could be counted on for not losing my sh*t in most situation but on this occasion I lost it. I assumed he was going to hunt me down and try to kill me since I had his money and hadn't performed any sexual act with/to him. I suddenly found myself running for my life. Don't ask me why I came to the conclusion because I can't tell you. All I know is I was terrified and was running.

He had driven off but then after I had grabbed my bag he had come to screeching halt and violently turned his truck around and came speeding back in my direction. Naturally I thought he was trying to run me over. I was having serious mental delusions. I ended up running into some one's open backyard and hid behind their garbage cans. And as I watched him cruising and trying to find me I ran from one backyard to the next hiding and hoping no one would call the police because I was lurking on their property. Eventually he gave up and took off and I was alone, it was early A.M and I was very far from downtown.

I have always said that no matter where you are, a girl can get a date, and usually this is true. But Cambie St on a busy morning is not a breeding ground for men cruising to pick up a prostitute. Mostly people were on their way to work and pulling over on a busy street like that is not something done casually. So I was left to hitchhike. I had the money he had given me but I had no change for the bus and there was no stores (to get change) open at that time. It was humiliating, I HATED being out when people were going to work plus I had anxiety at whether or not this crazy man was going to come back to murder me - thought it was fabulous of him to chuck my bag out his truck before he took off though, I will give him that.

Hitchhiking was never something I have liked to do (except for on Kingsway in the middle of the night, it is EASY to get a ride on that road). I felt like I was so obviously a drug addicted prostitute so who in their right mind would stop to give ME a ride? Well, the only person that did was a cab driver. Sweet and nice cab driver. He was headed in my direction anyways and my obvious look of distress and fear must have been what made him stop for me. And no, he wasn't like other cab drivers I knew, he didn't expect a hummer for a ride.

This was just another tale of why drugs are bad and why you should never get in a car with a drunk driver.

The Raven:

I am running out of stories maybe. I find myself wanting to share other tales of yore..tales that go all the way back to before prostitution and occurred in the medieval days of ravers and good ecstasy.

A while back, quite a while back, I may have touched on something called psychosis and/or hallucinations, whether they be auditory or visual. Now, most people (including myself), have found it amusing or just wondrous at least when they come into contact with or hear about a person that was so wasted that they are obviously totally out of touch with reality. It can be a laugh and scary. I feel like I may have mentioned this in regards to myself..and my own experiences but I can't totally remember everything I have written about in this blog. But hey, it can happen to the best of us. No one likes to admit that they have lost their sh*t at any time. BUT being that this is so many years after the fact I am able to look back now and laugh, as well as shake my head. In fact the other day I was at school telling a couple of my fellow students about the first time I had done ecstasy. It was ugly. I had put like a half gram of coke up my nose and was on my way to a New Year's Eve "rave" (we used the term "party") called "Life Force". First off, let me mention that this is an aside, this isn't even the intended subject of this post but just something I felt like sharing in this minute.

Anyways, we are at the party and I am there, out of my mind gassed on up and I am introduced to someone that is selling Es. Now, this isn't your average, modern, run of the mill E that is made of some unknown substances be they acid, PCP, etc. This was like, pure, split it between two people gel cap E, worth every cent of the forty dollars (yes, that's right, forty dollars - the cheaper the E is, the sh*ttier it is..so forty is not unreasonable). Within an hour and from a combination between the cocaine and the E I was hallucinating madly. That can happen if you do too much E, I really should have split it with someone but I didn't. So yes, mad hallucinations. I actually didn't have that good of a time that night as I was overly wrecked. But when I got home and went into the bathroom to brush my teeth did I get the real shock, the heart stopper, the "oh my G8d I should not have done that, what if I stay like this forever" moment. As I was brushing my teeth and I looked up and saw my eye.

My eye. My right eye has been weaker than the left for my whole life. I wore glasses as a child, contacts as a teenager but as an adult I never have. I mean, I do now so I can see better while driving and all that but my eyes both stare in the same direction, behaving like normal eyes nothing creepy. When I was young though, I had what one might call a lazy eye. Meaning one eye is normal and the other goes in, towards my nose.

It had been YEARS since I had even thought about my eye..and it was this night, this night doing too much E too soon that made it come and rear its head. I saw in the mirror that my eye was moving around in my eye socket with no rhyme or reason. It was terrifying. I was THAT GIRL. I was her, the girl that was pointed at and you may have said " look at her EYE" and "SHE must be so wasted", etc. I could control it if I tried hard enough but if I didn't it was bouncing around like that DVD graphic that is on your TV when you don't have a DVD in the player but the TV is set to DVD. You know?

It is funny when I think about it now but at the time it was crazy. And as I progressed through my drug using, and actually it was only in my crystal meth/E/MDMA/PCP/LSD phase (which lasted a few years), that I had to purchase an eye patch at a drug store just so I could go into day two or three of sleep deprivation without worrying that my eye was going to "go"....only the closest of friends where ever allowed to see me like that. And, since I am on the subject, my personal recommendation to anyone that does make a habit of consuming copious amounts of whatever substance (especially those that have a hallucinatory effect) and like to stay awake for days at a time, I would suggest that when you are in that very vulnerable and unguarded state, keep only your best friends around you. I found that it helped to reduce any unnecessary paranoid episodes as well.

See, at parties or raves I would actually enjoy singling out those that did appear to be losing their grip and would say things to them that would exacerbate their situation. For example, I recall one individual, he was a person that I knew and I had sold him some acid and could tell the he was trippin' HARD and I went up to him and asked him if he was aware that he was convulsing. He wasn't convulsing but it amused me when I saw that he panicked for a minute. I told him I was kidding so his initial shock became relief ( I probably helped him if anything). Another time I went up to this girl at a party and she was obviously too high, so I told her that her mum was at the door of the facility and that she was asking for her. I had no idea who this girl was so of course there was no way I could know her mother, but the girl freaked like I knew she would. One's mother may not be the best prescription for a youngster in the depths of an ecstasy high.

As a last thought I will mention that often a person in recovery will question themselves this: "will I ever have as much fun as I did while I was getting high?". I mean, that was the problem right, it was too much fun? (I am not referring to my heroin/prostitution days - that was in a way enjoyable but mostly miserable, I am talking about the getting high...getting really, really high. On e's, acid, mushrooms, MDA, crystal meth, etc..you know, the raver "party" drugs that I mentioned a few paragraphs back). Well, I still ask myself that same question because I find that a lot of life still pales in comparison to dancing your f*cking brains out in the middle of the forest ( I went to a lot of outdoor parties) as the sun comes up with a bunch of your friends that are going off as hard as you are.

This isn't to say that I don't get my kicks these days...but it's just something something about those nights. But it does/did get ugly AFTER the party - I will give you that. That sounds so cliche, there must be an after school special out there with that title, "After the Party". Maybe an A & E Special Presentation about the dangers of ecstasy and raving and how there is a direct link between raving and eventual turning "out" to work the streets....(there is no link that I am aware of, I am just an anomaly, soon to be martyr.)

This wasn't even what I was going to write about today, I was GOING to write about a time when I tripped out mega hard and badly, psychosis style when I was with a date out by Cambie and 41St....I guess I will just have to write about that next time.

Yay and oh yeah that's awesome but still.

I saw my infectious disease doctor on Thursday. Needless to say I didn't get much sleep the night before. It had been so nice to not have to think about hepatitis c for so long....since I had completed treatment I just stopped thinking of myself as someone with hep c. Not that a person with hep c is different from any other person but I had sort of convinced myself that my having it may hold the key to my ever finding happiness. I know that sounds ridiculous but still, this is how I felt. Like, why would anyone love me when they could find a girl that had never BEEN a prostitute or a girl that didn't have hep c?? This is poisonous thinking, I realize that, but this is what went through my mind on more than one occasion. Hep C isn't even a big deal but I secretly felt like it was. I play tough like I have come out of "it" all unscathed but I haven't. I still feel like I am constantly trying to make up for lost time, time lost out there....

Anyways, so I saw my doctor. I had told very few people about my appointment. I had to leave school early and just said I had a specialist appointment, told only one person that it was relating to my liver. I just said I had been getting check ups ever since my liver enzymes had shown that I was in stage two cirrhosis of the liver, forever blaming it on my past drug use. It made me feel incredibly lonely to not be able to share this with anyone really, no one really understood how nervous I was about this appointment. It had been postponed once already and I was hoping it would be again. I told maybe 1 friend and then some family members..only people that had already known that I had had hep c in the first place. But as I said only one person from school new that I was seriously concerned...

Speaking of this person I had told, something funny occurred between us the other morning when we had met before school for coffee.

To make a long story short we were discussing something about the internet and I mentioned I had a website. What was the website?? Well, I just came out and told her that I used to be a prostitute (she already knew about the addiction). THEN, after I swore her to secrecy, she then made me vow secrecy in return and told me she actually does that NOW, to supplement her student loan. The work not the drugs. Work in the sense not like I "worked", she isn't working the street she just knows this guy, and he has money - he just shares it with her... She ***** him *** and he ***** *** ***** etc, blah blah blah, whatever they do together is their own business. I don't care what anyone says but it IS work. Another interesting detail is that she is a lesbian which I think makes the story even juicier. Hah, awesome. Like what are the chances?? She had me believing that she just had a very well paying catering job. I mean, she made mad cash at the job and I always wondered how she was able to pay for all her expenses on a part timer's salary. It was funny though, she referred to it as "coming out" to each other, her and I's sharing, which is a great way to put it and I am smiling as I type this. I love her and I am not going to even think about the ethics of anything. I accept her as she accepts me. We did both admit to each other that we may have some faint issues with sex as a result of these experiences but we had to get to school and had no real chance to get any deeper about it.

Back to my hep c story. Did I mention THAT THE HEPATITIS IS STILL NOT THERE?????? Yes, it's true. My doc asked me how I felt and I said great. He said "you should, because you are cured". He actually used that term. Cured? I didn't realize one could be cured but he said he would be very surprised if it ever came back. That it had a less than one percent chance of ever showing it's hideous face again. For now he ( Dr. F) will see me in 6 months then eventually it will be annually. Now I just need to worry about getting my son tested.....

One step closer to personal forgiveness, I hope.

The Boner

Okay, so there I was...f*cking this guy and......noooo, no, no, I would never start out like that. I would never use the f word so early on.

Okay, so there I was, sitting on these steps in front of some unfortunate person's house that lives on Cordova St. Unfortunate in the sense that as a drug user I often sat on their steps (as did many other drug users) and got high. The steps were high up and around a corner so in theory one would think that if a police cruiser had been driving by I might see them before they saw me....

There I was, smoking crack while also looking for a date, and this seedy looking individual approaches and begins a conversation with me. He lives very close, he says, and wants to know if I will accompany him back to his lair and provide oral companionship to his member while he smokes copious amounts on cocaine (paying me in money and dope-duh). "Yes!", I tell him and we skip away.

As an aside I would just like to mention that the downtown Eastside seems to house a lot of people that are business during the week and party on the weekend. Almost as if they are susceptible to the drugs sold on the street there and have to use purely due to geographical convenience. I am sure there are thousands that don't use but still, there are lots that do. I am just saying, I wasn't really going to go anywhere with this paragraph but I just thought I would mention it. This guy was one of those people.

I say he was seedy because he was scrawny and was out hunting for a prostitute. That is seedy...he wasn't someone that I had seen before though, as I mentioned he was a weekend user.

We get to his apartment after a few short minutes and when we get inside I am surprised to find that he already has a person there. His roommate? No, that would be too easy, it was his male lover. Yep, this guy was bisexual, but his boyfriend, not at all. His bf was fully gay. I was fine with this, as long as he doesn't expect me to have sex with an animal or something, I am fine.

His boyfriend just watches and gets high as I get busy doing what I was being paid to do and before long the proceedings are halted. Scrawny decides that he is no longer interested and wants to see if I can get his boyfriend excited, turned on, erect, etc.

This wasn't the first time I had been been asked to do something like this. I already wrote about the girl/guy couple that had picked me up. I had also been picked up by one of my regulars and brought back to his apartment at like 6 in the morning one day, paid to start bl*wing him in his living room. And paid also, to make enough noise doing so that I would wake up his roommate and then surprise his roommate by switching my focus to him. I think it was his (roommate's) birthday or something...

But never had I had a sexual encounter with a homosexual male. It was a challenge and it was fun, if I am to be honest. I gave it a try. At first he had his eyes open but nothing happened. Then I suggested he close his eyes and so we tried that but to no avail. Sadly, I was only to rewarded for my efforts by bringing him to half mast.

So basically, I blew a gay guy. I think that is pretty cool. I think if a woman ever does this, maybe it is with her bf or husband that hasn't openly come out that he is gay yet..so in THAT sense yes, I will give it to them, they have bl*wn a homosexual man...but not like this......ooohhh yeahh and snap and you've been served (and whatever other cliche, quasi hip statements I can make)....I own that ****.

I'm Just Pretending to Drive a Minivan

So, there I was, sick as f*ck, working....waiting for something, anything, anyone to happen. None of my regulars were out and I was desperate. This minivan pulls up (why is it that most guys that cruise for chicks drive minivans?? Interesting....) and the window rolls down and Joe Averagemiddleageguy asks me a few questions. He is into weird shit he says and asks me how I feel about degradation (not a fan of it but if I am sick and the price is right, I can be anyone and do anything. Excusing, of course, being sh*t on or gang banged anally by a bunch of guys, etc.).

He says he has tried lots of girls and none of them can give him what he needs, that most of "us" have hang ups, despite the fact that we talk a good game. I am very curious as to what he is talking about but if he just wants to tell me I am scum and sh*t then I can deal with that. See, I have been called scum before and it was awful BUT in this case I would be going into it KNOWING that it was going to happen. Big difference. He and I come to a mutual understanding that we will give this a trial run, he will just drive around and say/ask me various things and depending on my responses - he will decide whether or not I may be a fit candidate for him and his desires.

Now, degradation is one thing, I mean, prostitution (at the level I was at) was pretty much degrading in itself and is mostly about play acting anyways so that did not concern me. When a guy says that he is into weird sh*t that can be anything. I did post a long time ago about a date that got me to wear his daughter's pyjamas and "walk in" on him watching a porno - and I did it. I one time watched this documentary about somewhere in the states and the prostitutes that work the streets there, in it this girl was talking about how one of her dates that she had known for a while decided he wanted her to go to the zoo with him after hours, break into the monkey cage and have sex with them. Personally, I was told about this one guy that used to pick up girls in Vancouver and would hire two to have sex with each other while he watched and jerked his dog off at the same time. I know it sounds retarded but I knew I guy that sold dope to a girl that did it...

Anyways, you can never know what they mean by weird, weird is defined differently by different people. Like how six inches to me may not be the same as six inches to you. This guy and I weren't going to get a chance to step to far into the "weird" part of his fantasy but just deal with the immediate degradation part of things. His main concern and instruction for me was that no matter what he asks me to do, I have to do it. Fine. I have to do exactly what he says, no questions.

I jumped in the van and am told to get on my hands and knees on the floor in front of the passenger seat. Fine, no problem. Then he is telling me I am scum and all that and that I deserve nothing and that he is lucky that he let me into his van. I am lower than a dog...blahblahblah. I am trying to respond appropriately but since I have no idea what he wants me to say, I was finding it hard to play along. "Yes, master?" Is that appropriate??

I am not allowed to look at him, only at the floor. He is driving around and the eventually he pulls over to the side of the road but leaves the van running. I have no idea where we are, we could have been anywhere. He tells me to get on the seat, after I pull my pants down and shove my ass in the air so anyone that walks by can see me. This is where my problem begins...I would take my gear off all the time for "work" but exposing myself like that is not something I was ever comfortable with. But I am not allowed to ask questions, remember? I just have to do it. Reluctantly, I do what he asks.

He is having me wave my ass around and then unrolls the passenger window. He tells me to stay exactly where I am and not to move. He says "Oh, there is 2 young guys about to walk by on your side, I am going to talk to them". Me? I am mortified. I mean, what a position to be in. I know it seems that I could just sit up and get the hell out of there and I can't even explain to you why I didn't do that..but I just didn't.

He says loudly "Hey guys come over here...come on, look at her, do you want to stick your fingers inside her?" I'm like "WHATTTT???" and he just rolls with it demanding me to stay where I am and proceeds to offer these guy ten bucks to do as he asks. It was at this point I had had enough. I sit up and there is no one there. No guys, no fingers, no one. He was just testing me and I failed.

It was really humiliating, he was right. I laughed (with sincerity and with relief) when I realized that there was in fact, no guys there. I just find this story amusing.

No moral, no life lesson, nothing overly heart wrenching here. Just rather humiliating to recant but here it is...because I'm sharing. I am sure this is something for dinner time conversation.

"Can you believe she did that??" "No, I can't. I would NEVER..."

Tobias' Secret

Despite what the average person might think, it is not only unattractive, hurtin', greasy, slimy, dirty, perverted degenerates who are undeserving of sex from a "real" woman (that last bit was for you, Anonymous) that pay for the service of a prostitute. Hot guys pick them up too. Well, they picked me up anyways. From my perspective they may not even go into it looking for a prostitute and the first time it happens they may just drive by and see something they like and bang - their prostitution virginity is surrendered. And once it happens once...well.....most likely there will not be a first and only time. A first time, yes. An only time, not so much. Not that this is an absolute rule, nothing is absolute.

So, it was into my trap that a young, very attractive male flew unsuspectingly into my evil web one sunny summer day...mwah-ha-ha-ha!!! Actually, I was just on my usual corner when Toby had driven by in his work truck like he probably did all the time, making deliveries or whatever it was that he did with his vehicle. But this particular day was his lucky day.

He was a first timer, I could just tell. He drove by me and immediately pulled over to the side of the road just a bit past where I was. It was very obvious that it was a spontaneous decision. Guys that cruise for girls usually make the rounds....and then are all paranoid and go into the alley and wait for the girl there or something like that. But Toby just pulled right over and I ran to the truck and jumped right in.

His truck was one of those company vehicles with the big cube box on the back. Like I said, a delivery truck of some sort. Anyways, he drove to the end of the block pulled over and we just climbed right into the box from the front seat. Easy, peasy. He was very excited, he told me. I was attractive, I managed to maintain myself most of the time and had more of a regular girl vibe and less of a strung out on heroin/crack one. Of course, everyone has their good and bad days - and this was one of my good days. A tan always helps - it takes the sting out of the track marks perhaps.

We jumped into the back, I gave him a hummer AFTER he paid me and that was that. I got out, we said our farewells and went our separate ways. I was almost positive that I would see him again. I mentioned that he was attractive, hip, hot body and all that. He was the type of guy that I may have actually been intimate with in "real life" had I not been heroin/cocaine dependent, homeless, a prostitute and all other charming attributes that accompany life as I was living it. Toby would have had no problems getting girls but he would be back to see me, they usually do, accidentally or on purpose.

Weeks, maybe months passed. Toby had slipped into the recesses of my drug addled mind and the whole experience had been forgotten. I did end up seeing him again but it wasn't until after I had had my abscessed tooth.

Now, if you have ever had an infected tooth/severe tooth ache, you know how painful it is. Times that by one hundred due to the inconvenience that is added on top by severe drug addiction and malnutrition.

I can't even remember when the whole issue of tooth pain had reared it's ugly head, all I can recall right now is that suddenly it was there with a vengeance. One thing about drug addicts, anything can cause a hiccup in our daily routine but usually never is it worth actual attention, including any physical pain (other than the usual dope sickness pain). I would have to have been pretty near death in order to be forced to seek medical attention.

So, here I am a busy little working prostitute and I get a toothache. Big deal. But then it went beyond that once the swelling started...and grew and grew and make it literally impossible for me to even open my mouth. So how, may I ask, is a girl whose "bread and butter" depends on being able to perform magic whilst a penis is in her mouth supposed to make any money when she can hardly even open it enough accept even the ever necessary crack pipe? It was bad but at first I just adapted. Initially the swelling was just on the inside and I just had to explain to my dates that I wasn't able to give any hummers due to my toothache and most were understanding and accommodating. But eventually, as the days wore on, the swelling became so intense that half of my jaw was twice or three times the size of the other half. Horrible and ugly and made bl*w jobs impossible. (You would think that it would have been a turn off to pick up a girl that is so obviously in the midst of some sort of infection has obvious signs of physical "distress", but in situations like this there are always one's die hard regular dates that can be depended on. They are so in "love" with you or obsessed that even when I had been punched in the face and had my eye swelled shut it was no deterrent. It was business as usual for them). When it got to the point where I could not even stand it (the pain from my tooth) anymore and I HAD to get it taken care of, I called an ambulance for myself. I called 911 right from Carnegie. (I wrote a bit about this experience in my post entitled "Scammin' Round Two" - see it for a description on the way I was treated as a a patient who was also an addict.)

Turns out it was an abscessed tooth but it was not worth lancing (gross) so I was given a round of intravenous antibiotics and then eventually some pills to take orally. I got the pills only after the doctors there realized that the chance I was going to be able to show up daily for my IV antibiotics was slim to none...I mean, what junkie can be depended on to be anywhere at a certain time daily? Unless it relates to dope, getting dope, making money to get dope, etc.

As a result of my dental issues the swelling in my face took a while to go down. My pain was relieved after a few days on the meds but I still wasn't able to open my mouth properly for weeks. I just suffered through the discomfort. I was able to force my mouth open when necessary without telling my dates - very painful but doable.

When I again saw Mr. Toby it was a short time after the swelling had reduced but in the midst of my having to pry my mouth open for any required oral pleasure that my heroin addiction demanded that I perform.

Again, it was split second decision on his part, he happened to be driving by on Main street when he saw me and pulled over, right across the street from the Police station. He was in his car this time and he just drove to some random alley and we did our date there. Again, I was having to swallow (har har) my pain and make like everything was fine. We were not using a condom just like we hadn't the first time. I wish I could tell you we did, but we didn't.

I did what he paid me to do and when I removed him from my mouth there was blood all over him. I guess I had pushed my healing gums to the max that time or it had just ruptured after repeated abuse by my incessant ignorance of it needing to heal. He panicked. I didn't. I understand why he did though. Here was him, average guy that happens to decide to spontaneously pick up this good looking semi strung out appearing girl for a bl*w job and with this decision, and about 4 minutes, had changed his whole "life" or so he thought. Maybe. That was the question, wasn't it?

I tried to assure him that I was fine ( I mean, I could honestly tell him that I was not HIV positive or that I had anything - well, at the time I had no clue as to my being positive OR negative (I had never been clinically diagnosed with anything - not that I had even been to a doctor..), it is only after the fact that I can say it with conviction that I was HIV neg, but the hep c may well have been there then, there no way to know for sure). It must have been very scary for him.

But I bet you he didn't pick up any more prostitutes after that (I never saw him again) and I probably saved him lots of money too. He really should have thanked me because of it, which sort of cancels out any mistake he may or may not have made by picking me up in the first place or any wrong doing on my part by intentionally going ahead with "it" despite my healing medical condition. For the record, I had no idea that I was going to bleed on him and had I known I would have at least used a condom. Probably.

I am making light of a bad situation, I know that and I get no pleasure out of recanting this for you. I bet he never told anyone about this, it is the sort of thing one keeps to themselves and now the world knows his secret (or has access to it anyways).

Hieroglyphics

I signed up for this new thing that allows me to see my lab results before I go to the doctor to have him tell me what the results are. Big mistake. Now I am all stressing until my appointment with my specialist next Thursday. Sigh. I have no idea how to read blood test results, it isn't in casual "is it there or not" format. I see the results but what do all those abbreviations and numbers mean?

I shouldn't have registered for it. Since I have completed my treatment for the hep c I haven't really thought about it. I think of myself as not having hep c anymore. A close family member of mine had it and the treatment worked for him and it is ten years later and his doctor told him he is "cleared". It is gone, that is that. I hope and FEEL like it worked but I never really felt like I had it anyways. I mean, in the sense that I never felt sick.

I don't want to go back to before. It must have worked. I don't really drink and I am generally a healthy individual but I can't stop thinking about it. Hep C be gone.

Pray for me.

She Thinks She's So Fisticated

I am here sitting here trying to figure out what to write about. I feel like writing something but what?..So, I look in my books of tricks (haha, but really, I do have a book that I write things down in, in abbreviated form...random one liners that remind me of certain things...) and nothing jumps out at me. Mainly because what I have written lately has been pretty "adult" and I don't feel like making that a constant theme. Because it wasn't all like that. A lot of what I have written in my "book" are just one sentence experiences that for some reason have stayed with me and for whatever other reason I feel they might be of interest to someone else.

As I am writing this I have come to the decision that rather than try to tell a story this time, I will just quote myself from the book of tricks and then explain what each one means. There will be no special order, no theme per se, just random happenings that I feel like recognizing in the public forum that is the world wide web. Notes that I will highlight in bold and I will type them up exactly how they appear in my book. I may only get to mention a few of 'em, but if I/we enjoy ourselves here, now, then I may do a post like this again.

He has "no one to care about, which is what makes a good con man" from One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest by Ken Kesey, in reference to McMurphy (said/thought by Chief, from whose point of view the book was written). - I have had that book on my book shelf forever, got it at Value Village I think, and since I know the book is always better than the movie, I wanted to read it. Eventually I got around to it about 5 months ago and when I read the above phrase I was like "YEAH, EXACTLY". Total description of the mentality of an addict, a guiltless con man.

picture of me holding $20 - It may not seem like a big deal to anyone else but one time, when I was super ill (as in dope sick) I was approached by this young-ish guy that asked me if he paid me 20 bucks could he take some pictures of me. I have done this before, it is easy money, they usually want to be quick, they don't want me to touch them and don't need to touch me, they just want to see my boobs or whatever. (Of course there WAS that one guy that wanted pics of me and an English cucumber......-am I joking? Maybe? Maybe not? Let's say yes, for dignity's sake)

Anyways, this guy approached me, wanted some pics. No problem, I said. We went into some random alley and he asked me if I would pull down my pants and lift up my shirt. I said "yes", of course. Is this a big deal? It wasn't to me. It isn't like I had any plans to be a politician or anything, so the picture leaking out was not a huge concern. Plus, try to understand, I was at the point where I couldn't even visualize myself ever getting "out" of the life I was living. So contemplating the repercussions or consequences of anything was null and void. I put myself in danger daily, multiple times a day, so no big deal. You may think "why is she writing about a f*cking picture, who cares?". I get that, the thing IS, com-padres, is that he had me pull down my pants, pull up my shirt and HOLD THE 4 FIVE DOLLAR BILLS THAT HE PAID ME TO DO IT. Basically just showing that all it took was a measly $20 for me to show him and his camera, myself..face, nakedness, nothingness and all. I don't know know why I mention it, all I know is, when I think back, I feel pretty stupid about it. Yeah, it was cheap.

still looking in windows - All this means is that for a looong time after I had quit working the street I would catch myself looking to see who was driving vehicles. When you work the street seeing and making eye contact with the driver of any particular vehicle was very important because anyone/everyone was an opportunity to make money. Plus, you could never know if it was the last "cruise" around the block that a guy was making. It was a hard habit to break, in fact my ex used to bitch me out for the longest time whenever I would do it. But I got so used to doing it that it was normal for me. I don't do it anymore.

Franco stroke - beating/deaf, Chrissy stroke - shooting meth - this refers to this guy Franco that I used to know. He was your average junkie, nice guy just f*cked up and addicted to crack. I guess he ripped off the wrong guy or something and ended up getting seriously sh*t kicked by someone and had a stroke as a result. The stroke left him like 90% deaf and brain damaged. He went from the hospital back to Main and Hastings and was a different person after it. He was still using but he was like a child after the whole ordeal. Didn't really ever really understand what was going on...he was a shell of what he once was. Chrissy was this girl I knew that was so beautiful even though she was using and she banged some super strong gibb one time and had a stroke. She was was 26 at the time. Scary. She was basically fine after but still...

David and dry humping - I had this date named David. He paid really sh*tty but all he ever wanted was to rent a room and would lie on top of me with his clothes on and dry hump me so hard that it was almost painful. He always had razor stubble and it burned my face. He would do this for a good 20 minutes then put on a condom and give one good push into me and would finish. He always talked about how he was planning on giving me more money but for some reason never got the promotion he kept telling me about...

I will share more another day, this is enough for now. And if anyone is wondering, these days I am doing great. In fact I just received word last week that I've been chosen as a recipient of a small scholarship that is rewarded to women that have triumphed through adversity. I had to write a personal essay and all this other stuff, so it was quite the process to even apply, but they have decided to give it to ME. ME. I have worked my ass of to try to make up for lost time and it feels really good to have this happen. Really good. So yeah, I am almost happy?? Yes, I am.

onway iatushay

Okay, so here's the situation......

my parent's went away on a week's vacation and...

Here IS the situation. I am not really sure where I want to take "this" now that I am in school. I am super busy now and what with school and my son, I don't really have time to do a post every week. AND to be fair, I must be honest, the last 2 posts that I wrote, well, my heart just wasn't in 'em. It was more just relating facts not actually telling the story in my usual way. So, I just wanted to acknowledge that I take pride in what I do on this site and it bums me out that I can't put the time in right now that I did for the last year.

What I have decided to do is to just write when I am inspired. Not to say that I wasn't always inspired when I wrote all my previous posts but I before, I was emotionally able to take the necessary energy needed to recall, recreate and publish these memories from the past.

My counsellor (Hi, A, I know you are reading this) and I were discussing the blog and I am really not interested in turning this into a that was me then, this is me now sort of thing. I have convinced myself that people read this solely because of the rawness of it and plus, does anyone even really CARE about NOW? I mean, it is the dirty stuff, the morbidly satisfying and shocking things that keep them coming back, is it not?

Anyways, maybe I am wrong. Feel free to email me and tell me what you think I should do. Or simply post a comment. Or let it be. I am not going anywhere, let that be clear. This is my site, I just paid to renewed my domain name and I WILL be getting my ten dollars worth.

*********

And that was a direct reference to the Fresh Prince's "Parents Just Don't Understand" at the top.

So You Say You Want to Have a Threesome....

I promised a long time ago that I would write a post about one of the "couple" dates that I did. Couple as in more than one person yes, but more importantly, couple, as in girlfriend/boyfriend. It happens out there, rather than put an ad on craigslist or whatever they decide to go straight to the professionals. Because that is exactly what we were....

Actually, here is a tip...girls on the street that are selling sex on the low track usually have drug problems so if you are looking for a female that is going to get into what you are proposing, this is the WRONG type of girl for the job. "We" want to get in and get out, asap. No, we aren't enjoying ourselves..mentally we will not be "present", so give it up. We want the money not your feeble attempts at casual experimentation. Don't get me wrong, I can act like whoever you want just don't ask me to have an orgasm..because I won't, can't, and will fake badly at the best of times. I mean, I HAVE had orgasms on rare occasions but never (or almost never) when it is required. And if you must get one of these type girls for your escapade at least have her get drugs for herself first. Then and only then will she (I) participate more than marginally and even then there is no guarantee.

In my own person experience I found that one of the 2 persons in a bf/gf combination is usually more into it than the other, so from the outset the whole idea of a threesome is sort of unfair. And it is usually him that is more into than her. That is just from my point of view.

Setting: Nighttime, Hastings and Gore.

A motorcycle pulls up along side of the street where I am about to score my dope. On the motorcycle is two leather clad individuals, one male one female. They are of average age, average appearance. She approaches me and asks me if I will accompany her to their apartment which is in the big apt building right at Main and Hastings (which is perfect because it is local, very local). "They" (HIM) want to have a threesome and want my services in completing their sexual ring of desire.

ME: Fine, but I was just about to score, can I do that first?

HER: No, we are both in recovery, so no drugs.

ME: (heavily disappointed but somewhat consoled by the fact that we are near the red zone anyways, so within minutes of finishing my "work" with them, I will be inhaling/injecting the necessary intoxicants) Sigh, F I N E.

It is common knowledge that anytime there is more than one person present during the date or if more than one person wants servicing it can be dangerous. You can be occupied doing something and then the other "party" can attack you when you are least expecting it and or you can be easily overpowered... But to counter that thought, more than one means double the money. It is like the whole 2 birds with one stone scenario. The risk is worth the payoff.

He takes off on the bike to park it and she and I walk the one block to their building and we all go inside together. If it wasn't already obvious to me, it was more so obvious that he was more into it than her as soon as we got there. He wanted to waste no time, wanted to jump in, pronto, stat.

I only wanted to know what exactly I was being paid for. I understood that I was to be a third to their usual twosome but I needed to be clear on how they wanted me to behave. See, as I mentioned above...a person could hire me for whatever but it has to be understood that I am merely playing a role. I can ACT like I am a willing participant but things can get tricky. Like this situation..he tells me to "get into it, have fun...." and all this other crap. I am like "um, no, I can't do that" since I was there for THEM not for me. It is as people don't understand this part of the "date dynamic". I would not be there if it wasn't for the money so it goes against the whole concept of a threesome. I cannot make out with your girlfriend and seriously enjoy myself. I can't even have sex with her boyfriend and seriously enjoy myself. It is not what Shirley wants, it is what THEY want. A person doesn't hire a maid and expect them (the maid) to thoroughly get off on making some stranger's house clean. The house cleaner most likely does not clean for fun..she is being paid to clean the house and she would not be there otherwise.

Moving on: I said I would give it a try (the 3 way) and make like I was enjoying myself during it especially when they handed me a bunch of money. A bunch. Of money. Once I have that money, I am keeping it. Especially in places like apartment buildings, sure, I can be overpowered by another human being, BUT I can also scream like hell and fight back as loud as I can. I can guarantee that the neighbors will hear me. I had done it before and no one ever wants anyone else to know that "they" utilize the services of a street girl. Once I already HAVE the money, if things don't go their way, what can they do?

Immediately he wants to get busy. So, he requests that I start going d*wn on him and that she watch. I still feel bad about this because I KNOW she probably wasn't getting all riled up like he was. Poor girl. So I oblige and do what he asks and then he says he wants to be in me from behind (not anally, in case you wondered, you pervert) and watch me go down on her. A sexual sandwich with me in the middle. I reluctantly agreed..I mean, I have no problems doing one date after another, but at the same time, no matter who you are, IS quite intense, and I have never been a fan in my personal or professional life, which isn't to say I haven't done it. The girlfriend prepares to enter the scenario.

One thing I can tell you is that in my life, then and now, I believe that being prepared for a sexual encounter is key. What I mean is..being clean, hygienically most importantly (I am not addressing the whole STI thing, just cleanliness of oneself). I am not going to really talk about MY life NOW but I will tell you that while I was working the street and certain things were asked of me I always made sure I was clean. Even as a homeless drug addict I made sure of it. I was a junkie so I always water on me and even a splash can help a particularly intimate situation.

As I have said in previous posts, often I was asked to shower before we did the "date" and always did if it was possible, and more often that not the other party does as well or is already respectably clean. Now, you might think that most individuals would NOT care to be clean since prostitutes are considered the scum of the Earth according to the majority but that is not the case. There are the filthy guys/dates and they have to be reckoned with, etc but most aren't overly scummy. I would expect this from another female for sure, being clean, I mean.

I would have thought that she would have made sure of this cleanliness before our rendezvous or even after we got to the apartment when it was clear we going to go ahead with it. But no, I guess riding on the back of her boyfriend's motorcycle in full leather bike gear was not something that she considered a threat to her "presentation". Don't get me wrong, she wasn't overly foul or anything..she was just the average woman, and like any woman she could have had a quick wipe down before hand. I know this sounds gross but I am not sure how to describe it other wise.

Long story short, she got in front of me and after about a minute and a half I was just like "no, I can't do this". I mean, I MAY have been able to had she been squeaky clean because hey, it just skin, right? But no, I was very aware that she was female and with buddy in the back of me trying to destroy me from the inside, it just wasn't going to happen. It is one thing to shut your eyes and just let them to things to you (intercourse) but it is a whole new game when you have to actually participate actively when in reality you cannot possible displace yourself mentally from the situation. I can't make you understand. It may sound crazy because I had to provide bl*w jobs all the time and that's me doing all the work, bl*wing vile men daily. But one bl*wjob is like any other and really, that was always easy.

SO, I just told them, I said I couldn't do it. I did not clarify why exactly but just said I wasn't into it or told them I was dope sick or something. And being the nice street girl that I was, I actually gave them a whole $10 dollars back. Which was a teensy percentage of the grand total but I felt they deserved that much back. They still had the visual of the few minutes I HAD taken part, so whatever. Plus, I found her lack of courtesy off putting as well.

That is it, that is my story for this week. Nice and humiliating and embarrassing and all the people that I know from my real life will read this and shake their heads and talk amongst themselves about how they cannot believe I used to do things like this and how disgusting, blahblahblah. But remember, you didn't live my life, you have no idea how it was. You have no clue that once you get to a certain point (and that point is very early on once you sell yourself just one time) you will do pretty much anything (pain excluded or hopefully avoided) and it is all work. Just work, just a job, one day no different than any other..the only thing that sets the days apart is the amount of dates you can fit into one day and of course the people change.. But then again, they sort of ARE all the same people that just want a variation of the same thing.

And the posts, well, they all end the same way too. Without a life lesson, you don't leave having learned something new. Just another tale about a day in my life that I wish had never happened but am not ashamed that it did all the same.