In Conclusion

Dating the drug dealer was exactly like his product, it was fun at first, exciting even.

You had a good time. You do some more.

After a while you realize the scooped out feeling of your nostril, the subtle withdrawal leaving you angry with no appetite, the crash, the inevitable crash isn’t worth it. It’s actually draining and cuts into time better spent. You are the company you keep, but more importantly the things you do. And boy was this man the living embodiment of that.

Overall I enjoyed the experience until I didn’t. I do wish we had more sex, but everything happens for a reason. Plus he’s the type to kill me in a rage, like the movie Carmen. If he can’t have me nobody can.

Dating a Coke Dealer (5/5)

“So you like what you see?”

He asked, one hand pressed against his lips as he sucks on his cigarette. The other brandishing his physique from head to toe. Still wearing that custom pink hat. Jeepers Creepers was right.

Insecurity is a dangerous trait, it belongs to people who don’t love themselves. Someone who doesn’t find themselves worthy, will do anything to be validated, even if it means hurting others.

He shared a story once about his ex fiancĂ©. She was a nurse back home in West Virginia. He flew her out, took her on shopping excursions at the best stores. Showboating, showing her the life he would provide. Once home she called the whole thing off. His profession didn’t help people, it was vacuous. He got angry at her (“I was like fuck you bitch”), because she rejected a future with him.

I had no intentions of seeing him that night, but he rearranged his schedule to do so. He irritated my soul. A few days prior I’d been complaining about a pair of boots I’d ordered. They were delayed on delivery. By the time they reached I’d be at a different location. I tried to change the address with FedEx as the sender told me, but they refused. Brazenly informing me that it would be left outside, since it didn’t require a signature (whatever other solutions you’ve just come up with, trust me I offered).

“You have white girl problems.”

He said that via text and again that night in the bar. I ripped him apart. Excuse me. You just said being black means I’m not afforded the privilege of first world problems. He was determined to break me, since I didn’t want a future with him. He continued to berate me. I continued to stand up for myself. When he went to smoke a cigarette the bartender asked me if I was okay. There was a look in his eye, like he was possessed. He started accusing me of things that were spot on from his relationship. Like legit things that happened between them.

“What are you talking about? Dude you’re being crazy, that wasn’t me, that happened with you and Helen.” This man was never not on cocaine and the quantities he consumed made him rage. He tried to start a fight with some kid earlier, claiming he was running his mouth. I reminded him that he was in no way implicated in the boys going ons, leave him alone. By the nights end he would shove me into a hallway wall. Out of his mind. I left him standing at the top of the stairs, where he was gesturing his foot towards me. I told him what he was on my way out, a loser and a drug addict. This man thought we would be a hood couple, that fought and made up. Disregarding my upbringing, stereotyping me. He messaged me trying to apologize. I sent him an online therapy screenshot.

Dating A Coke Dealer (4/5)

I was tipsy and determined to get it in.

The last time I saw him we ended that night at a 24/7 diner, eating brunch at 2 a.m. Ravenous we had everything from steak and eggs, sides of bacon, pancakes, disco fries, beef skitters…I switched between martini’s and mimosas, interrogating our waiter.

“Sir, sir, do you think my eyes are wide set or average? Because look…” Moving my fingers across my face to demonstrate measurements. This man had no idea what I was talking about.
“See I think they are wide set by a smidge, but I really just can’t tell.”
At this point we both started laughing so hard. Poor man with a smile plastered on his face, nodding along. I don’t think he spoke that much english and I was clearly drunk and stoned. It truly was a pleasant evening, filled with laughter, the kind that makes your stomach hurt, leaving you with an everlasting joy that rolls into the next day. Proclamations were made:

“Fuck Soul Plane and fuck Kevin Hart for that. Aerodynamically that plane would never take off, it makes no sense,” I said vehemently. “Look at the front of that plane! It’s too big. I felt like that when the movie came out, I feel like that now.”
“I wish I knew you as a kid, you just never know what you’re gonna say next. I can only imagine when you had no filter.”

As a healer, I believed god put me in this mans path to do just that. To help him transition to a more positive space. When my friend sent congrats gifs on getting it, I told her it ended up being a therapy session. So I was determined on this night.

Don’t get me wrong this man wasn’t about shit, he lied, he omitted, he was a felon and a plethora of other things. However, he was also chiseled, hot and looked damn good in boxer briefs. I wanted to be ravished and dominated, not get married.

He sensed this, so he tried to make me jealous by saying he’d been with other women since his break up. “You’re not my boyfriend, I don’t care, take your clothes off.” He was so insecure, berating himself about his imaginary small penis, saying he had a complex. Just so much talking and not enough action. His penis wasn’t small and if this was him out of shape…I mean he must have had body dysmorphia.

I wanted to keep going after round one, but he was determined to make these drugs deals, asking if I wanted to come. He made more than enough to transition into a different line of work. He loved the lifestyle, he loved chaos and above all else he loved drama.

I saw all the red flags…this man was off… this became very apparent on our last date.

Dating A Coke Dealer (3/5)

He was quick to the draw, but I was quicker.
I knew what I wanted from this.
I’m a woman not a girl.
I never told him Denise saw a text from his GF fly across the screen: Got you another one huh. A statement, not even a question, after legit 14 ignored calls in a row.
This man is a liar, a cheater and a hot ass mess. Which is all fine for a fling.

He sent an Uber.
I decided on Thai food.

When I got there he was, five empty vials deep with more lines on his dresser top, in. Once upon a time this was heaven, but I had no desire.

I was an accidental mistress and a blessing. He and his girlfriend fought all the time, for sure verbally and although he never said it, I felt physically. Denise concluded she was crazy, based on his story that she cheated on him first. I didn’t believe him.

This man was on a bender and losing his mind, snorting snow every thirty seconds. His pain was visible, permeating the room. It was hard to witness. I couldn’t in good consciousness try to hook up. Eyes rimmed with tears, he could barely speak without choking up. After probing for the truth, eureka. He did in fact initiate the cheating aspect of their relationship. A house call that turned out to be his ex girlfriend, he ended up double dipping. To cover his tracks he tried to turn it into a threesome. Jealous of how open his gf was to it, he changed his mind. The two women ended up becoming great friends, with his ex never revealing their betrayal. In a fit of paranoia he exposed himself. The trust never returned.

“Sooooo you let her become friends with someone you cheated on her with? Like an idiot. That’s seriously fucked up. You deserve this. Learn from this, be a better human and everything will be okay.”

He hugged me, the scruff of his beard smelling like… a woman. Disgusting. Eventually we found our way out of his Essex street, exposed brick apartment. We went to Drop Off Service for a drink and a deal. He was mad, due to all the moving expenses he couldn’t send his driver out to do his runs. If so he’d take a 30% cut.

“I just made $400.”
He wanted me to be impressed, he paid for his girlfriends entire lifestyle with his seedy profession. Bringing me to the apartment, talking money, he thought he could buy me.

That night he told me he loved me. I sat silent, so he said it again. This was my third time meeting him…

Dating A Coke Dealer (2/5)

There was nothing serious for me about this relationship. Hello, he’s a drug dealer, I mean…duh. As a writer and a YOLO advocate I love experiencing as much as possible. My friend wanted me to keep seeing him for the free party favors. I’d been there done that, but all of this was new for her. When I found out I did E (which I hadn’t done since 18) on top of everything else, I was impressed. I still got it. Cara would have had a heart attack, but I was a connoisseur and a rockstar.

We were suppose to go to lunch on Monday when he vanished. It was abrupt. I was convinced my ex boss got rid of him, as he had countless others. Cara decided to use a text free number, she wanted to hang on Halloween. Indifferent, I didn’t mind not seeing him again.

“Meet me at Verlaine 8pm sharp.”
“Who the hell is this?” He replied.
“Sir, we have business to attend to, just meet me there.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about and I don’t have messages from you prior. Fuck Outta here.”

He started messaging me again saying my former boss had nothing to do with his disappearance, he was just self-absorbed. Cara took it upon herself to message him using her real identity, without my permission, asking him about it. We met up for my friend Denise’s birthday. Boy did things take a turn. I won’t go into the full details of that epic night. The one where I was reborn, but it ended with Denise discovering he had a girlfriend of five years that he lived with. This is what she told me as he sat between us, at some private party at the Soho Grand.

“Yeah I live with my girlfriend, but I’m courting your friend.”
A cheater AND a liar. I informed him I don’t hook up with taken men.

“By the way that was me and Cara messaging you about Verlaine,” I too had secrets.
“That was you?”
“Now I know why you were ignoring me.”
He just gawked astonished.

The next day he messaged me he left her and moved out.

I was irritated beyond belief. I called Denise, cursing her for not keeping the information until after I boned him. Now he was changing his life with the delusion of a happy ending that would never come. He messaged me everyday multiple times a day. He was obsessed.

“Let’s meet up for dinner, or you can come to my place and we can order in?”


Dating A Coke Dealer (1/5)

We just came from brunch. The last thing I remember is sitting on the church steps with my friend, in the sunshine, next thing I knew it was night. An hour and half completely erased from my memory. We don’t know where he came from, but he appeared behind us in a pink, wide brimmed hat that reminded me of the monster in Jeepers Creepers. We were standing on a street corner somewhere on the Lower East Side, deciding which direction to head in.

“Should we go in this bar?” Cara asked.
“You don’t wanna go in there,” he said out of nowhere.
“You got weed,” I asked.
“I got more than that.” He replied.

Suddenly we were following behind this brolic man, in a sleeveless shirt. It was uncharacteristically warm for October, but not warm enough for him to be wearing that and long shorts. He mentioned something about my old boss, the one I thought was my twinflame, but it was the way he said it. If you didn’t know who I was why would you segue into a story, about this man without explaining who he is?

That night became a blur, we went into all these bars and paid for nothing. Anything Cara and I wanted he got for us. At one point I told him I didn’t have my second cup of coffee that day and needed one, or I would fall asleep. He proffered a vial of cocaine. I reiterated that I had a caffeine addiction. I didn’t know until Cara told me, but he walked blocks just to get it for me.

He had a chiseled face, with large turquoise eyes, surrounded by thick long black lashes. He was extremely attractive for his age, which is probably why I made out with him after he gave me E. I had no recollection of doing so until Cara reminded me. She said I was normal than she come out of the bathroom and I was standing above the crowd dancing. We were smoking weed inside of establishments that anyone else would have gotten kicked out of. Too many people from my former bosses life started to appear, including this sketchy black man who’d been arrested for drug trafficking. I looked him in the eye and saw a level of insanity that made me uncomfortable. I tried to get out of there instantly, but he cornered me, forcing me to shake his hand. My former boss is a young, good-looking, multi-millionaire who women throw themselves at. The fact that I was the one who got away is a huge deal to those who know him.

The night ended at a studio apartment, with us surrounded by strangers. At 5:30 a.m we called it a wrap and he gladly paid for our transportation home. He got my number and messaged me everyday for a week. Then disappeared.