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2005-06-24 - 10:08 a.m. The Policemen and The Pimp This is the third in my Bad Citigrrrl entries. Disclaimer: these things happened like 25 years ago. I am, and am not, the same person. Before I moved to New York I lived in Queens. At one point I was dating - all at the same time - two white married NYC police officers and one Puerto Rican drug dealer, Sal. He was a dog trainer I found through a Vill@ge Voice listing. As soon as he pulled up in a cab to our apartment, I looked out and said to my sister, this is the one I am going to lose my virginity to: I was 25 and had waited long enough. He was one skinny Johnny-Depp-type, but then, I was a skinny thing too - I only weighed 98 lbs. Sal, turned out, was also a pimp for his woman, Jennie, who lived with him up in Harlem. Jennie was fine with me seeing Sal; we'd all hang out in the apartment and do whatever drugs we had, and then she'd go off somewhere to work, and I'd stay the night. One of the cops became jealous that I had each of the three guys set up for seeing on different days of the week. Although he did like the inside information about where to purchase weed in which storefronts uptown, and was all excited that I take him there for the "real good stuff". He and his partners would pilfer confiscated drugs from the evidence room at his precinct. Or they would do a bust, pocket whatever drugs they found in dresser drawers and on tables, and declare just enough to make the charge stick and make them look good...Serpico stuff - all true, guys! I tired of his whiney jealousy - after all, he WAS married, and I was not - I could do as I pleased - plus he was forever boasting what a great lover he was, yet he did nothing for me. So, I cut him off. The other cop was seeing more of my girlfriend than I; eventually he went back to concentrating on his marriage. One night after doing tabs of acid and smoking opium at the pimp's apartment, he offered me a job - Jennie couldn't make an appointment with one of her customers, so I could do the outcall if I wanted. I said no. When I left the next morning, driving my little VW, I was still quite impaired - a city bus hit my car, but I just ignored it and drove home with the fender rattling. I can't believe I survived through all the crazed situations I let myself get into back then! I did learn guard-dog training from the Dog Trainer guy, and went on to do training demos at schools and banks, etc. His large waterbed in his flat uptown in Harlem was my first sexual experience: a little stone Buddha statue staring at me from alongside the bed. Later I questioned his dog-training competance when he crossed a busy uptown street with his two dobermans and neglected to give his female dog a command to 'stay' - she was immediately killed by an automobile. He moved to California soon after and wrote to say he'd signed on as a mercenary to some oblique government operating on some ship offshore, and was welcoming dying for their cause - and he then disappeared off the face of the earth. The police officer contacted me years later and took me out to dinner on Valentines Day at some restaurant on Long Island and gave me a rose, saying his wife was annoyed at him and refused to go out with him that night. As usual he boasted about his prowess as an officer, blah, blah, b-o-r-i-n-g. I wondered what made me meet with him again - probably the flattery he piled on - Oh, you were the best! I always worshipped you! - Last I heard from him, maybe 20 years ago, he called to say he'd been airlifted by an emergency heliocopter to a hospital for a triple bypass. The gist of the call was, now he couldn't tear up the white rhododendrums his wife had planted years ago, that he hated, because the doctors told him he shouldn't do yardwork. He was crushed. Oh, the inhumanity! White rhododendrums! Horrid! He was sobbing as he hung up the phone. One of my favorite quotes from Collette: I've had such an interesting life. I only wished I'd realized it sooner.