Crank: A Sordid Drunk-A-Log Tale (Also S.A.R.D. #7

In this post, I’m going to tackle two categories in my blog: Sobriety & Sexual and Relationship Development. The reason why is because the story I have involving Crank (street name for methamphetamine, back in the 90s is when this really began to hit mainstream) is two fold – it involves a drunken sexual interlude I had with someone. She happened to be addicted to crank.

It has been a long time, since I have been to a strip joint.  In fact, I have never been the entire time I have been married and I think the last time I had been in a strip joint I was 22 or 23 years old.  After my parents had divorced, my mom was living with a guy (I couldn’t stand the slime bucket…he and my mom were probably crank heads. Shockingly, I just remembered this, as I was about to tell a different story) and I really had no where to live that I felt comfortable living.  I was on again and off again with a girl I knew from high school (I could write several posts about her in my S.A.R.D. and will at some point); well, during some time I was away from her, I lived with my mom and her skuzz-bucket boyfriend.  My mom lived about 4 blocks from a strip joint, and I made a habit of visiting quite a bit. It was within walking distance, so I could go there and have some beer and walk home just fine.

Except, I began seeing one of the strippers there. I was absolutely mesmerized by here – I mean, what young 20-something year old guy wouldn’t be attracted to a good looking woman with a nice naked body – let alone a stripper who actually wanted to talk to you, in stead of trying to get your money.  Unfortunately, I can’t remember a whole lot about this woman – I think her name was Sheila (that’s how atrociously shallow I am). What I do remember, is sitting down at the stage, ordering my beer and Blondie’s “One Way or Another” came on as Sheila began to prance down the stage. At the time, I felt like she was appreciative of my meager tips.  But that first night, she came and talked to me and I bought her a drink or two and she offered a private dance – ya know, because I’m special (Stippers are good at this as long as you keep paying).

But I didn’t stop seeing her that night. I would see her again and again, visit after visit (okay, it was like everyday for a week) and eventually I asked her if I could buy her breakfast when she got off work.  Well, we began meeting for breakfasts after she got off work.  Eventually, she began inviting me to her apartment.

I’m sure we had sex…

But I could never tell.  I was often drunk, but not so drunk I couldn’t perform down there. But at the same time I couldn’t tell. Sheila and I got together a few different times for a brief period.  I was already considering her my girlfriend and I was still going to the strip joint to see her too.  At the end of the summer, she went with me to register for school and by my books.  I attended an engineering school and I was entering my Senior year. This engineering school is full of some of the smartest people – disciplined people. And here she and I were racing through campus, giggling and having fun. And I might have been drinking too, but she was driving.  At one point, she even pulled to a stop sign when a particular group of students were crossing and she stood up and flashed her breasts at them.  Personally, I thought it was fun and free and I felt like she was fun and crazy. The kind of person I thought I enjoyed – at least at the time.

Our crazy get together continued. But I could never tell if she and I had actually had sex. I couldn’t remember, because I would be drinking at the strip club and she would accept drinks from customers (it was her job, after all) and at the end of the night we would get breakfast and head to her apartment. Kissing always occurred, clothes would come off and I do remember she and I trading oral sex during one encounter, but waking up the next day I could never tell if we went all the way.  Something always told me we did.

This is the craziness of alcohol.

She always seemed to crash at the end of the night and the next day, was miserable. Then she would go into the bathroom before work and come out refreshed and ready to go like the entire world was at her feet. She had a voracious attitude that seemed to be positive and full of energy.

Little did I know.

Eventually, the drunken excursions to her apartment were starting to bore me. I was wanting something a little more serious, something that felt like I was a boyfriend and she was my girlfriend. I decided to go see her at the strip club that night.  She wasn’t working and one of the other girls told me she had taken the night off.  I decided to go to her apartment and I knocked on the door.  She answered, practically naked, which I expected. What I didn’t expect, however, is to see another guy there in her living room.  She said to me, “Hey…wanna come in?”

I entered and the guy sat up and had a small smirk on his face and he was half-dressed. I didn’t like his scrawny looking face, but I chalked it up to jealousy and decided I wasn’t going to let it phase me. I sat down and asked Sheila, “So…what’s going on?” (I’m effing brilliant at detecting the obvious…lol). She replied, “Nothing…we’re doing some crank.  You want some?”

At the time, I felt that drugs were bad (trust me, I was so far removed from even assuming I was an alcoholic, that this didn’t feel hypocritical). I looked at what she was offering me, looked at the half-naked guy sitting on the living room floor looking like he hadn’t eaten in three days, or slept in a week and then I looked at Sheila. She lost her allure in an instant. I wanted nothing else to do with her.

I left and have never seen her since.

I am thankful, I have given up drinking. This is not one of those moments I find to be among my greatest achievements. This is the kind of thing that happens when you’re an alcoholic and/or an addict.

It’s been over 20 years, but I hope Sheila has found a better place in life.

I’m sober, thankfully.

via Daily Prompt: Crank

One thought on “Crank: A Sordid Drunk-A-Log Tale (Also S.A.R.D. #7

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