On the Steps on Sunday

It was a Sunday morning. Early, early morning, and I think I was sitting on some steps in front of a house on Cordova St. Now, early Sunday morning is not really the best time to try to make money. Don't get me wrong, there is always guys cruising for women, but early morning with the sun shining, they cannot really remain inconspicuous while rounding the blocks. At the same time, the guys that usually cruise on Sundays, always cruise on Sundays. Maybe they go after they finish church:)

So, it was Sunday as I said and early and sunny, and very cold. It must have been about 6 or 7 am, and I was on the prowl. I don't remember being dope sick, but still, all I ever did was try to make money (with more of a sense of urgency when I was sick). And since there were so few cars out looking and lots of girls needing a date, it was definitely awesome and relieving to be the one chosen for a date. But I really expected that alot of the time. Though I had my terribly ugly moments on the street, I like to think that most of the time I looked pretty good. Normal, not obviously a drug addicted, undernourished prostitute that had been awake for 4 days and had only eaten a stick of gum in the same amount of time. Or so I thought, but I was strung out on heroin and cocaine, so when I thought I was looking alright, in actuality I could have looked like garbage. Who knows. Doesn't matter.

I saw this truck circling around and around. It was one of those big rigs trucks with a bed built into the cab behind the seats. A Mack truck, I guess it was. I had no idea who was driving it, I had never seen it before. I didn't really think anything of it, except that whoever did the date with him would be lucky because they could just do it in the back of the truck, without having to go somewhere and worry about getting caught, etc. Also, I had encountered more than one truck driver that was into crack, and would be looking for a girl to help him score. Either way, it seemed like it would be a win/win.

So, there I was sitting and waiting for the inevitable. A date of some kind. I looked up the sidewalk and there was this skinny, little Asian man walking down the block towards me. He sort of had a limp like one of his legs was longer than the other, and you could see that something was weird with his neck. I was surprised when he stopped to talk to me, as I thought he was just going home or something because we were so close to Chinatown.

He approached me, asked was I working, I said yes, I was. Then he asked me how much and I noticed how nervous he was. I told him a price, and it was higher than the norm I guess. It's weird but sometimes you can just tell what guys are going to pay well and which ones aren't. And he said, "okay, let's go". So we walked.

I made small talk, asking his name, I told him mine, etc. I generally tried to make these guys feel comfortable, to make them feel safe, like I am not gonna f@#$ing freak out and cause a scene. This is what is called good business sense. I was trying to ensure repeat customers by being nice and personable. And obviously delivering the service with a smile and hassle free. Yes, I know how retarded that sounds.

As we walk and talk, we round the corner where his vehicle was parked. And if you hadn't guessed yet, his vehicle was the big rig that I had seen cruising.

You have to understand, even I was bigger than this guy. He was tiny. And he was so nice. Excruciatingly nice. He asked if he could hug me first before we got busy, and I said sure, and we just lied there, obviously he just wanted the physical contact. Maybe the hugging made it less ugly and offensive to him to be buying sex and affection. Besides that, the transaction was completed without issue, and he paid me very well.

During my time with him, I could see that he was unable to turn his head left or right. He would actually have to turn his body to look either way. I couldn't see what was up with his legs, why one appeared to be shorter than the other. I never asked him about his neck, or his legs. I purposely did that knowing that people probably asked him all the time about that. And I just wanted him to feel like I didn't notice. I wasn't a prostitute and he wasn't paying for sex. I was just a woman, and he was just a man.

The point of this whole post is that I know I go off about how these guys are all scum and are predators. But there are exceptions to every rule, and this guy was one of them. I saw a truck just like his the other day, which is why I thought of him, and it made me so sad. It made me sad that he probably didn't go out on dates (real dates, not my kind of date) much.He was such a nice person, but because of circumstances, appearance or whatever, he was alone. I could just feel his loneliness, and it is crazy that I still think about it. Everyone needs love and affection, even if you have to buy it. Or you'll end up like one of those Romanian orphans that were kept in cages.

His name was Ty and he was the same age as me, 27.

I guess you could say I worked for SHAW

One of the reasons I made reference to Mr. Z in my previous post is because besides Mr.Y, Mr. Z is someone that I had known in real life as well. Again from the coffee shop.

The thing about Mr. Z is that he was actually my boss from the coffee shop's best friend's boyfriend. Does that makes sense? There is no other way to put it. This guy was a scumbag, they all are, but I never really hated having dates with him. Some dates are better than others, just like anything in life. Lots of times he would be driving by and just give me $20 now and then. I never actually KNEW him at the coffee shop, I SAW him there but we never spoke. I really didn't like my boss, and so obviously I didn't make it a habit of chatting up her best friend,

or her best friend's beau.

I remember the day he picked me up the first time. See it is funny because I would see him cruising the stroll for a girl - I will call her "K"(he was usually always looking for her). And as an aside I will mention that he was actually going to leave his 5 year relationship for K. Ha. See these guys get confused and forget that the ONLY reason we spend time with them is for money,it is not because we want to hang out with them. Idiots. Don't get me wrong, some dates were nice, but it never takes long for them to want to take you out for food and other B.S. but pay you the same money they would for the usual duties performed. Oh yeah, while I am thinking of it, I remember at one point K was pregnant while we both were working the street. She went and had her baby at Royal Columbian Hospital, and within hours of giving birth she called a dope dealer friend of mine (whom I happened to be with when the call came through). We drove there and sold her some down/up. After all, there nothing better than a good old fashion speed ball to celebrate the birth of your child. We picked her up at emergency and drove her around while she fixed in the backseat. Then we took her right back. She cleaned up after that though, then relapsed and the baby's father got custody. I actually ran into her in Surrey, and she told me. The had been an addict too. He used to wait for her while she would go do dates, sometimes he would even keep watch for 5-O for her. He lived off of his girlfriend getting screwed by other guys. But he got clean, and is married.

Back to the story. I would see My.Z cruising and he would see me on the street working. It was humiliating for both of us. Humiliating for me because I knew he recognized ME from real life, and it was humiliating for HIM because I could see that he paid for sex. And I knew he had that girlfriend. Which doesn't really matter, they usually do.

One day he got the balls enough to pick me up. We exchanges services for money. And that was it. Many times over.Through out the time I knew him we would have conversations, you know before and after the date. And he actually told me that he worked for a cable company (SHAW) and drove a company vehicle, which had the company logo on the side. I guess during work he would cruise for K in this van. He told me one time that he was doing a date with this girl, in the van, and he forgot to remove the stencil from the side, and someone reported him. He almost got fired. It happens all the time. "They" always come around in work vehicles. He wasn't even the only guy I did dates with that worked for SHAW. Mr.Z also told me that he pissed in K's mouth. I mean, he paid her, and she let him urinate in her mouth. I have never let anyone urinate in my mouth. But maybe I would have if the price was right. Nah, I am just kidding. I was messed up, but I would like to think I wasn't that messed up. But if someone wanted to pay me to do that to them....seems like easy money to me. Or should I say it was easy money?

Second to last I will note that he also told me he had seen my old boss' husband cruising and that some working girls had said was looking for a hand job for ten bucks. This is just what Mr.Z told me, I never actually saw him cruising. He cruised a different area, closer to Commercial and Hastings.

Lastly, I also wanted to mention something, in regards to doing dates with people I knew in real life. One date that I saw regularly, is someone I knew from high school. He actually used to date one of my best friends. Who would have known? I didn't care who the f#@& he was. I saw him only as a way to make money.

If you have paid me for sex, beware. No one's anonymity is guaranteed.

Friend or Predator?

For 4 years I worked at a coffee shop. At the start of my employment there, I was only smoking weed and doing crystal meth 1 or 2 times a week. But by the end, I was a full on heroin user. Working in a coffee shop is very much a social situation and it is hard not to become friends with customers, since you see them all the time. Which brings me to the topic at hand.

Despite the fact that I was living in Vancouver for years, as a prostitute I only crossed paths with a few people that I had known prior. There was 2 men I am thinking about in particular, Mr. Y and Mr. Z. I will start with Mr. Y.

Mr.Y and I had been "friends" for alot of the time I worked at the coffee shop. He was more than a couple of years older than me, but that didn't bother me. He was married I knew, but I always felt that given the opportunity he would totally get busy with me, wife or no wife.

In the very beginning I used to stay in a hostel, which costs money. One Friday night (why do I remember the day of the week? I have no idea), I was at the Main Street skytrain station, but below on the street. Wrapped up in my own mind, I suppose I had the appearance of someone waiting for a bus. I felt a tap on my shoulder and it was Mr.Y. I was glad to see him cause I knew that I could probably get the money I needed for my room from him, plus we were "friends". I knew he would buy my B.S. story that I had run away and had no where to go...so sad, so sad. So we went to have a coffee.

He starts telling me about how he is in recovery, used to be a heroin addict, that he goes to meetings (AA/NA) etc. After the coffee, he did offer to pay for my room. I had tried to give him the impression that I was helpless female at the mercy of East Vancouver's downtown streets. I began seeing him more often. I would call him late at night if I needed money or food or whatever cause I knew he would be around (he worked by himself at night at a company that did screen printing of T-shirts). We would go to his work and hang out, I would get high, and it was fun. We had an understanding, I thought. But I totally knew that he wanted to have sex with me. And eventually it happened. No money exchanged hands, but it happened. Maybe I felt like I owed him, I don't know. He actually had only gotten married a year earlier, and I STILL feel bad about that. As a prostitute you deal with married men all the time, but this was different because I KNEW Mr.Y and had seen his wife at the coffee shop, and I just felt bad about it. Like his infidelity was my fault. And it wasn't. Obviously. I was never in desperate need for sex, I would have much rather NOT have had sex.

Anyways, over time we saw each other less and I was on the streets more. When I DID see him, it didn't take long for him to become what I will fondly (ha) refer to as a "predator".

When we first began spending time together he would just give me money. Like $50 here, $20 there. Regardless if we had made out or not. But sadly, of course sometimes he would come and find me in the middle of the night. When I was junk sick as hell, freezing cold and needing money.

To get to the point of the story is that by the end of my "relationship" (I don't even know what to call it) with Mr.Y he was just like any man on the street. Offering me an absurdly small amount of money for dope and the refuge of his truck for warmth. Promising that we would just talk, about recovery, meetings or whatever I felt like talking about. And I always hoped that's how it would go. He would make it seem all innocent when more often than not, he would make me feel like I had to give him sexual satisfaction in some way. I mean, I WAS a prostitute and I was in his truck anyways...

And you know what? Friends don't make friends give them a -------. I still think about him. It still disappoints me for some reason that he ended up being such a shitty individual. Cause despite my using etc, I did trust him and stupidly thought that he cared about me since we had known each other in "real life" (the coffee shop).

I will get back to you about Mr.Z. More of the same. Just a word of warning, the men that pick up and prey on prostitutes are just regular men. You would never know by looking at them that this is something they do. It is a common misconception that only really gross, hurting men actually pay for sex. And that really is the farthest thing from the truth.