My experiences in the sex trade fall under what I have just learned is called “survival sex.” I never worked on the street, and money was never exchanged. However, I had a severe addiction to cocaine, and this is where “my” version of prostitution came in. I had a friend who was also my dealer. This friend always wanted me. He was always hitting on me and trying to seduce me. I never gave into him until early 2013, when I finally didn't have a boyfriend that “got” in the way of my addiction. The first time happened innocently enough. I had acquired about $100 worth of coke from my dealer earlier on. He dropped it off at my house and told me to “give him a call later.” I bought wine and smokes earlier, so now, I was ready to get high. I snorted through the $100 in no time at all, so I texted my dealer. He must have been very horny because he offered to pay for a cab so I could go to his place. I agreed and headed that way. When I arrived, I offered to buy some more coke, but he said no. I noticed that he was cooking some up on the stove, something I had seen before but had never actually done. Thus, my first experience with crack was introduced. We smoked quite a bit all the while drinking a lot of booze. By this time I was very high and extremely messed up. The crack made me just want to get higher and higher. I guess the crack made him horny because he started kissing my neck and grabbing my breasts. In spite of myself, I responded to his touch. I asked him if I could have some more drugs. He said he wanted to [have sex] first. I thought nothing of this. I performed oral sex on him, and then I allowed him to have his way. Afterwards, he gave me more crack, and he even gave me money for a cab ride home. This was not an isolated experience. This happened at least 5 more times in a 2 month period. Same scenario, same outcome.  Looking back now, hindsight is 20/20. My perception of what I was doing was very skewed. I figured I was just having fun, being adventurous. At the time, I felt sexy and beautiful. I confused the situation with all the other bullshit that was going on in my life. Long story short, I not only cheated on my boyfriend, but I basically sold my soul for a drug. I allowed all my morals and priorities to fall by the wayside so I could get high. I allowed a man to have his way with me because he knew I so desperately wanted my “fix.”
I know now he knew what he was doing, and this angers me, because he was my friend. But I think I am more angry with myself. I allowed my addiction to override any sense I had left. I hurt others around me, but, I hurt myself the most.