Deliriously Hungry: Part I

“I’m going to fuck you until you squeal like a pig” or “Scream my name, bitch” were frequent commands during sex. It was so animalistic. So brutally carnal. When we were finished, we laid down on the bed, sprawling, naked. “Do you think anyone heard us?” I naively asked.

“All of Yankee Stadium probably heard us. You were fucking loud!” We were in an apartment building right next to a yankee stadium and there was a subway series game going on. There were tons of people right below my OPEN apartment window on the second floor.  

I felt embarrassed.

A few seconds later, my sister, Karo, who also lives in the same building entered the apartment using her spare keys. 

“I want you out of here!” She screams before exiting and slamming the door on her way back out of the apartment.

It is remarkable how brazenly audacious men are about offering things in exchange for “benefits.”

One particularly cold day in May, I didn’t have somewhere to sleep that night so I decided to just wander around lower Manhattan until sunrise to keep warm. It didn’t take too long before I was so desperately tired, cold, and hungry that I agreed to go “party”with a group of random guys I met in Times Square. I was told I could “totally crash” at their place and at that point I was so tired of walking around just to keep warm that I took the offer. They took me all the way to Harlem. I should have known I was involved with a sketchy crowd when one of the guys told me not to worry about the subway fare as he proceeded to exchange signals with a subway employee who gave all of us free entrance to the subway. Once inside, I was instructed to sit separately from the group and get off at 116th Street. Who are these people?

When I got there, we met up with a couple more guys and went inside a building in the projects to an apartment. There wasn’t anyone else in the apartment and we all went into a bedroom where there was a TV turned on with nothing playing, just a blue screen. “Harlem is hell” said the main guy who orchestrated everything and had the exchange with the subway employee that let everyone ride free.

I was taken to the bathroom and forced to engage in sexual activity that I did not want to participate in. I had no form of communication on me and couldn’t contact anyone. They all used condoms, and I wasn’t physically hurt. I dissociated from the experience and remembering it is really like I watched it happen to someone else.

I was able to get away after I started crying like a little girl, which turned everyone off. “Ok, you can go, just stop crying” I was told.

I think they were auditioning me to be a prostitute except Prostitution is the practice or occupation of engaging in sexual activity with someone for payment. I received no payment in this scenario, in fact, they took the $20 I had on me, which a bartender graciously gave me so I could get some food, and peculiarly left me $2. Were they the prostitutes? Did I unwillingly engage in a service  worth $18?

After that experience, I went to the hospital where I was looked over, told to think better about my choices and allowed to sleep before being unceremoniously kicked out.

Nothing that bad ever happened to me again, but I was shocked to find out what a rampant underground sex recruiting industry seems to exist in this city. I encountered many guys who would come up to me and exchange a place to stay for “my company”. Yeah right, I’m never falling for that again. So many men with the capacity to help would come up to me and offer me “work.” I was propositioned by this guy in broad daylight. He asked me to go to Chipotle and I thought he was asking me on an admittedly cheap date. Then he asked “Are you working?” and I was very confused until I realized what he was asking and replied “Yeah, I’m a journalist!” I held up the notepad I was writing on. “And I’m working on a story actually, could I interview you?” He quickly mumbled “I have to go” and walked away very fast. It was too bad because I totally wanted to go to Chipotle. A homeless person sitting nearby watching the whole exchange laughed.

I had men offering me a life of luxury. “Do you like this diamond ring I’m wearing baby?” One such guy asked me. “Yeah, it’s lovely” I lied because I hate diamonds. “Well, if you work for me you can have this and more.” I’m pretty anti-materialistic so this wasn’t enticing to me at all but I can see how it could be to someone else.

Art: Mark Rothko.
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2 thoughts on “Deliriously Hungry: Part I

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