We're all whores to somebody.
Introduction
Let me just get this out of the way as fast and as immediately as possible. I have never paid for sexual intercourse with any kind of sex worker in any way, shape or form.
I HAVE, however, LIVED with two of them... in two different moments in my life. These were vastly different roommates who occupied two very opposite ends of the sex industry spectrum. I'm pretty sure neither of them would mind the attention, but I enjoy random acts of frivolous anonymity. Let's call them "Jake" and "Isabel".
The Legend of Tracy Lynette Castle: Stoner Gangsta Kung Fu Hooker
For those of you who have known me a long time, you've probably seen my earlier writings about Isabel, and have thusly recognized her by her "real" moniker. I lived with her from an idiotic 19 to a less idiotic 21.
In The Beginning of 2002, three of us then-stoners managed to catch three floating light bulbs in our noggins and turn them on all at once: Me, Ryan, and Chris. Hey, we thought, what if we could pay rent in our own apartment to get stoned and drunk ALL THE TIME, instead of sitting in Ryan's shitty 1978 Suburban 4 nights a week in a derelict high school parking lot at 11:30 at night??? Why, it'd be like that one island in Pinocchio where all the boys get to go screw around forever, except none of us would ever turn into jackasses!
The landlord handed us the keys around Valentine's. By Spring, Ryan had gone completely insane because he had decided to stop taking his antidepressants. Chris jumped ship soon after. Looking back, Chris was the smart one in the group... at least at that very moment.
About 3 Calendar days later (or about 20,000 Craigslist replies), enter Tracy, or Lynette as she called herself. She seemed chill enough. According to her reply sheet, she was 34. Back in the Bay after 5 years in China studying martial arts, she had a brand-new gray area medical marijuana license, "worked in the adult entertainment industry" and could pay first and last in cash. Quite honestly, she sounded like a walking party. DONE.
What ensued was the fucking strangest time of my life. I witnessed a lot of really gross shit, as she was an in-call kinda gal. But on the flip side, time spent living with Lynette also boasts the most authentic and heartfelt moments I have had to this day.
Brad Tanzman: Hebrew National Ass Pirate
Brad the Jewish Gay Porn Star. When I first met him, he was probably one of the warmest, nicest guys I'd ever met. My best friend in college had given him the master bedroom out on his converted military barrack on Treasure Island, and when I decided to leave my place out on Fulton & Arguello (whyyyyyyyy, 25 year old Jon, whyyyyyy did you do that).... The guys out on T.I. took me in, after a solid pros-and-cons assessment.
Side note for all you youngsters out there who are moving out/in with your really good friends/BFFs for the first time: YOUR FRIENDSHIP WILL CHANGE PERMANENTLY FOR BETTER OR WORSE.
Brad had the distinction of being basically the last "Top" in Gay SF. I'm exaggerating a bit, but not by a whole lot according to what I had seen and heard vicariously. It came through in his personality. Being roommates with Brad marked the first time in my entire life that I interacted with a gay man on a regular/civil basis, and not just in some random setting out in the world for 5-10 minutes at Peet's Coffee or some shit. I found it pretty hilarious that he was arguably an even bigger horndog than all three of the rest of us straight roommates combined. It certainly took a few days to get used to him chatting casually about bangin' dudes in the way that some dudes (ok, MOST dudes) love to brag to each other bout their sexual conquests. God, whenever it was Fleet Week we basically had to cover our ears, and it wasn't for those fucking stunt jets.
“Marine boys are by far the sluttiest bottoms. Ankles on my neck, first to know and last to go!”
He was certainly the one pulling the weight in front of the cameras at his porn production house. He would regale us with funny stories sometimes from things that happened on the set. I think my favorite one is the hot sauce blow job mishap.
But like anybody with an alpha mindset, it spread across all aspects of his life. He certainly wanted control of the house. He wanted the place cleaner than Jesus Christ's prom night, he wanted a tight ship. Nay, he demanded it. All the friggin' time. It was insufferable. He cooked meals for us all the time, he bought groceries for us all the time, and he paid for pretty much every utility and accessory we wanted. But we paid for it in passive aggressive texts at 90 minute intervals, and random temper tantrums over empty glasses in the sink or a splash of dirty shower water left on the common area bathroom floor.
Despite all the nitpickyness, he was also one of the most generous and compassionate guys I'd ever met. He once bailed my buddy out financially with a sum that neither party should have agreed to lend/borrow, because it was way too much goddamn money. He always cooked us gourmet meals that he learned on his own, and he even lent me his BMW a couple times when my car wasn't in fighting shape. He was a den mother, a rich uncle and a bitchy sorority sister all rolled into one.
Life Lesson #838
There Is No Reason To Be Ashamed Of Your Body.
I was raised Christian. Prior to Lynette, I had never met anybody who so openly opted to be naked and at ease with herself. That was the thing, too. I know everyone has their preferences, but I will say this in the most respectful way possible: she was not the most attractive woman in the world. She clearly had seen a lot of action all across the board, so she looked haggard. She insisted she was 34 at the time of her cashing in for the first month, but she looked just shy of 50. Underneath all that grit and grime was a beautiful woman once who made one too many a bad decision and ended up a street hooker in Oakland right out of Sacramento State University. Just imagine a melted Sarah Jessica Parker who had done too much speed in her heyday and then tapered off into an 8th of pot every other day. Now imagine Saggy Jessica Parker NAKED.
The first time I ever saw her naked, she had just finished off a used car salesman (one of many, MANY used car salesmen who would come through subsequently). She nonchalantly wandered into the kitchen, took a giant swig from her jar of bee pollen out of the fridge, tits a reddish glow with her mangy pubic triangle still glistening from getting sportfucked by Slims McChevrolet.
I was sitting in the living room playing Halo, stoned out of my mind, and looked over, eye level with her puss. I couldn't help but stare in mesmerized curiosity. She eventually looks over and sees that I am at some level of discomfort. I was half expecting her to apologize for being nude (how rude of me, right?)
“Yeah it looks fucking gross but Bee Pollen is REALLY GOOD FOR YOU, dawg.”
Thanks for reading guys! There will be more of these for sure in the future.