I was a poor excuse for a pimp

I tried my hand at pimping but my pesky human feelings messed it up for me.

I knew I was not supposed to take relationships with men seriously on a personal level. It was supposed to be all about making money. When I saw a man I was supposed to replace his face with a dollar sign. That’s what working girls said when I spent a little bit of time with them, maybe standing in line at Zippys, the slow fast food restaurant chain in Hawaii that had a location right on Kukui Street downtown.

I wanted to be a truly indifferent professional so I started making  referrals. I don’t know if people would call it pimping or promoting prostitution or sex trafficking. To me, I was simply bringing two well suited acquaintances together for a fee. I couldn’t expect a trick to only want me. The desire for sexual variety is one of the top motivations of tricks, I believed. He didn’t only want his significant other, though he loved her.  Naturally he didn’t only want me. If he felt like a white girl, or an Asian girl, an older woman or someone younger ..I knew people who could fulfill his desire. There are no friends in the dope world bit there are always connections because you can’t get high without knowing people. I knew people, and I put this knowledge to good use when guys asked me for recommendations.  I also initiated the suggestion of introducing someone to him because not everyone felt comfortable asking me to bring a woman who was different from me. I reassured them that I understood they did not mean to offend and I could create an all around beneficial situation. I wanted to make money even when I wasn’t the object of lust. Truly, the sex was the thing I liked the very least about my job.  I never got into having sex with strangers unless I had done some good ice. No, I enjoyed the companionship the escorting part of being an escort. The conversations, finding out how different guys lived, it was a way to experience the world through the diversity of my clients. Not having sex and still making money was right up my alley.

  I was good at what I did. I have always been an expediter. I never set women up with men who were total douche bags, like guys who played games with the money, or who were verbally abusive.  I didn’t set guys up with women who were over-the-top scandalous. Thieving tendencies couldn’t be entirely avoided amongst addicted streetwalkers but some women were a lot better than others. Both men and women were pleased to meet someone new through a referral so it was a lot less likely that the person wasn’t law enforcement, (but still you could never be certain).

  Imagine my surprise at my feelings of jealousy when I made successful matches.  There were times men ultimately preferred the woman I sent to them over me. I was hurt!  Why couldn’t I set aside my lifelong tendency to want all of a person’s time and attention for myself?  I had always hated to sharing friends. I hated to share my dates too, but not bc I was a hardened street tough upset that money was rerouted away from me, but bc of my own personality glitch. He didn’t call me first!

 I always thought that as long as I had all the dope I wanted I would never want anything else.  I had managed to let dope overtake my desires for human interaction, mostly. But over time, the dope stopped working well as an emotional suppressant. I never went without dope, a state of being I had desired but never thought attainable. I was living my dream and unhsppy. What a malcontent I was.

   I pretty much stopped pimping. Besides the human feelings it was hard to get my percentage out of the fee from women after I had gotten the man’s contribution. The women thought I should be happy that the guy had paid me when it was none of their business what deal I had going. They only had to concern themselves with keeping their word to me but gratitude toward me did not sway the women. Yet another good deed ending in punishment. Talk about adding insult to injury!

2 responses to “I was a poor excuse for a pimp”

  1. Anonymous says:

    The hard part of separating business professional and business personal then straight personal is all in ones character and the all mighty Benji. Money the root of all evils, what makes the world go around, political unrest or domination. In the end, business is business and a thief will be a thief no matter what business we all might be partaking. I can speak from experience, but most times not openly even a few of the street deals ventures that taught me open trust and the ghostly dagger in the backside.


    • Harvard Grad elite meets Honolulu backstreets says:

      It’s not money that’s the root of all evil but the love of money. I don’t want to seem nitpicky but I think having the correct quote empowers us so we needn’t fear having money bc we are bigger than any thing


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