memory lane

Laying in bed unable to sleep, I tried to remember every boy I ever flirted with or had sex with. (not professionally) The list was extensive. Some of the guys I hadn’t thought about in 30 years or close to it. Some I didn’t even want to fuck; I just allowed it. Some seemed hot and sexy... until we kissed. I can’t remember one kiss that felt like those you read about in novels where every inch of their being is melting and quivering from the currants of fierce desire and passion. I feel cerebral and visual turn-ons, but they don’t travel below my brain. I remembered clothes I wore in those scenarios which I used to think were beautiful. They seem ugly in retrospect. I remember things men said in other languages (French, Spanish, Portuguese) that still hold a good memory. I remember weird ones. I was always fascinated by weird people. Not scary weird people and I believe I could discern this in my gut because I never felt threatened or was victim of violent treatment. When someone acted weird, instead of wanting to get away from them, I couldn’t wait to see what they might say next. I remembered K... at (name of college). He was strange. He called me Miss ...... and told me he was accepted to the University by sending an application full of scribble. I think we had sex once and his dick was small. After he came, he disengaged quickly and exclaimed, “That was horrible!” I knew it was no reflection on me. What fascinated me was how he either couldn’t hold in such a mean comment or why he would choose to insult me?

My next memory game was to walk down the streets of East Village of the early 80’s in my mind, recalling block by block the stores and restaurants that marked my walk from the R train to my apartment. The beggar at the corner of 2nd and St. Marks who hovered around the newsstand showed up as well as Magazine man, hiding behind his upside down magazine, taking peeps every so often at the passersby.

My wakefulness was proving amusing, so I went back in memories to when I lived with my parents. Twice when I was a minor, I got propositioned by older men to sell sexual services to them and twice I did. Suddenly I wanted to remember all the details, but sadly they are fuzzy. There were push and pull factors. I needed money to pay a parking ticket from a time I had driven my mother’s car without permission in the middle of the night. What a ridiculous time to get a parking ticket! Apparently parking at the Art Museum at that 4 a.m. was not allowed. The ticket was $25. What did the man offer me for a handjob? That exact amount. Here is the part I can’t remember. Where was I? The answer I come up with is F......... Park. Why? A sporting event that I was participating in or watching? Did my mom drop me off, but I got the time wrong? Was I waiting for friends to show up? The accuracy is questionable, but he was blond and older which could of been 40-50 by my standards of old back then. Did I do it in his car and was it a black Volkswagon? Where else could I have done it? What did I do after that? How long did it take? Was there mess on my hand? Did I get caught anyway from the parking ticket being sent to my house? Yes, that I remember.

Then I remember a tad more clearly being 16 and I was wearing this grey casual suit skirt and jacket. The skirt has pleats and the jacket was like a woven version of a hoodie. The school I attended was downtown and I was at a city park, near the school, on a lunch break or something, probably smoking a cigarette. The older guy, dark haired and business dressed came up to me and asked me if I would like to go for a drink with him. I thought that would be very cool (even though I was underage) to go to a bar, so I agreed. On the way, he made up some reason he had to stop at his apartment first to get something and invited me up. Now I thought he was going to try to have sex with me and I was prepared to refuse, yet I was curious as to how it would all play out. Once inside he offered me $60. to have sex with him. At the time I was seeing a shrink who got $60 an hour and here I was, not even a high school graduate going to make the same kind of rate. I thought that was impressive and I agreed. I don’t remember if we got naked. It sticks in my mind that I pulled out a tampon prior to the event, but it was toward the end of the cycle and not really bloody. Of this I am sure: I felt nothing except boredom and I wanted him to know how bored I was. I kept my eyes open and looked at the ceiling, while he pumped on top of me. My attitude was: you can pay me for sex, but not for me to enjoy it. It was over quickly and we were back in the elevator to go downstairs. He started trying to bargain me down to a lower payment. I did not think that was impressive or fair and I said as much. Suddenly I saw him getting nervous as a woman approached the opening elevator. I made up the story that she was his wife. He quickly gave me my cash and I walked out of the lobby onto the street.

I was flabbergasted. I had made $60 in 15 minutes. I was impressed by the ease and rapidness of being that rich. I did not think to make a career out of it. (I wonder why not) I was so excited I couldn’t wait to tell my boyfriend who berated me with insulting names like Whore and Skank. I truly did not understand or expect his attitude. I was hurt. I wanted someone to share my pride and excitement in me. Beliefs like ‘Sexuality is the sacred union between 2 people in love’ are nice and I hope true for those who believe it. I would prefer the more inclusive: Sexuality can be used to express feelings and union between 2 people in love and mystical, ritual, and fantasy can all be included. It can also be recreational, a means of exploring self and others and a lens into oneself. There is no definition for “correct” sexual expression (except adult consent). I think it is cool that the young girl in me was so unafraid, so unabashed, so gutsy and ballsy that she made a spontaneous and authentic decision and profited monetarily and otherwise (I learned). She leapt outside the box of societal expectations. If I was the parent of me, I would see all those positive attributes and yet worry about her naivete, risk, danger, and question what made her willing to respond to a strange man’s interest.