Pursuing Your Addiction is a Surefire Way to Meet People

I thought I was lonely and friendless bc of some internal flaw. Maybe. But maybe not. My research shows that in today’s world we spend our time in meaningless sub-social (my word) interactions mediated by a screen. Texting instead of calling. Facebooking people we will never see again or never meet in the first place, instead of putting in face to face time with a reach-out-and-touch human. Time wasted in meaningless chatter bc our souls feel lonely without constant contact with someone or someones. You can have a close relationship if you talk on the phone, and don’t see the person, but that is the maximum distance between two people if they are to be considered in a relationship. Take the voice out of an interaction that is not face to face and what we have is a bunch of pen pals.

Addiction’s Plus Side
If you want to get high you have to interact with people. If you are not independently wealthy you will need a hustle. Theft. Prostitution. Drug dealing. There are sub categories. You could be a shoplifter (colloquially called “booster”). Or an identity thief. Under prostitution you could work the streets or make it your mission to be the dealer’s girlfriend. Drug dealing could be as big time as you see in the movies or as small time as running the $10 baggie to the new customer so if it’s really an undercover cop the low level person will catch the 10 year case for actually handing the stuff to the officer.

Once your financing is in order, you either have to go to the dealer or find the person who knows the person. From what I have seen from my personal level heroin use in Hawaii, the bigger the dealer, the less likely he is to use the drug himself (though he might pull temporary sex partners from the drug using population.) All the books on making friends suggest shared hobbies as a springboard into relationships. Up the ante to shared obsession, and you’ve got instant companionship and association. Not friendship, of course, bc addiction brings out the cold hearted snake within the soul of every human. That primal, limbic brain is activated and addicts will do whatever is necessary, making it is best not to let the necessary occur.

But hey, we’ve got each other–ain’t we got fun? This fun is something I seldom hear spoken about when there’s talk about sobriety. What will I do with my time if I’m sober and who will I do it with. If people can’t get drugs or sex out of me, will anyone want me at all? Will I want anyone if interactions aren’t about using others? I get using and being used. That’s safe as a known phenomenon. Relationships based on…whatever they’re based on between people who love each other, I’ve never had that and wouldn’t know how to begin. I’m lonely and don’t know how to fix it bc my caustic wit isn’t reeling ’em in. I don’t know how to conclude this piece. I’ll just stop writing now


I Knew I Was A Shallow Hooker for Caring, but Being Chosen Became Important to Me

No matter what a person’s opinion about prostitution, few would deny the desire to be desired. Certainly it’s nice to imagine that someone would take one look at your beauty and start thrusting high denomination bills your way, if only for the privilege of gazing upon your loveliness. I have enjoyed this very treatment. A half hour after leaving a man who gave me $300 just to look at me, I met another client who pulled up in a limo. He was a black man who did not smile when he saw me. He gave me $2 and instructed me to go you the 7-11 where we met and get him a soda. When I walked away from the limo, the driver peeled out of the parking lot, tires squealing. I called the would-be client and said if he was any kind of man he’d tell me why he dismissed me. After a brief hesitation he said “Frankly, I was expecting more,” and hung up. I had $302 so I headed for the apartment of one of the five men who gave me a place to stay in exchange for drug money and reflected on the lesson learned. Beauty is indeed in the eye of the beholder–I tried not to don’t take anyone’s disdain of my appearance affect me personally. After all, maybe in his subconscious he is looking for his grandmother, I told myself at the time of any rejection. But I was an accomplished narcissist and everything was about me, including being chosen or passed over by would be dates slowly cruising the mixed residential and lightly industrial Kukui Street. I liked the overt admiration,and had never been so lavishly praised by so many different people. I always wished I had been admired for my looks so in a bizaar but real way, one aspect of prostitution became a dream come true. I started to feel incomplete unless someone commented on my looks. I did not know then that a woman in her early 20’s is just about always pretty, even when she isn’t. I traded more on my youth than my good looks but I believed I made $300-$500 a day in downtown Honolulu because I was special and pretty. Only later did I discover that men looking for sex are not picky. The #1 most important asset a woman has going for her in this arena is simply being present and immediately available. The lure of having to look no further was powerful enough to cause men to screech to a halt within one minute after I stepped onto Kukui Street. I could have been anyone. Maybe the subconscious needed to turn the humiliation of doing…no, I cannot discuss it in detail…doing things…into an ego booster. What would have happened to my heart if I was standing on the street and felt the shame of what I had become instead of feeling I was on a model’s catwalk instead of the ho stroll, the track?