My girlfriend picked me up from the airport, in Oklahoma City, after I flew in from Newport Beach. I was wasted on 8 vodkas...my dealer was not returning my texts and I needed to get a couple of 8 balls. “Where the heck is he?!?!?!?!?!”
Nothing made me more angry than not being able to score when I wanted to. My hormones were raging but nothing like I would feel when I got the 3rd line of cocaine in my system.
“Where is he? Where the f is he!?!?!?”
I was so preoccupied with trying to score coke, I barely paid attention to my girlfriend. We went to our regular spot, a bar in North Oklahoma City, to drink fireball, play ping pong, and of course to look for blow.
We always had fun at the Sip, the bar I drank at in high school. The Sip is where I used to go in my youth when I ventured out of the south side of Oklahoma City, sneaking up to hang out with the northsiders. Now that I lived in the area, as an adult, I went there 4 days a week. It did not matter if I was in mountain biking gear, a custom suit, workout clothes, or whatever; all were welcome in that bar. It is like they say in church, “come as you are” but this was a bar, and the patrons took that invitation literally.
The fact that there was a ping pong table in the middle of the bar was one thing but bathrooms that allowed multiple people to enter a single toilet room were another. If you wanted to do drugs in a bar, this was the safest place on earth to do it. It had always been the easiest place to score, but this night was different.
We never ended up getting cocaine that night. I was so drunk at that point, and I just wanted to go home because throwing up again was not the look I was going for. Doing cocaine just then would have been the last thing I could have mustered as my stomach felt like rotten root beer.
In my drunken stupor, I was still daydreaming about the fun I had had while I was away. The thought occurred to me that I should tell my girlfriend about the bathhouse in LA, the orgy in Newport Beach and that I wanted her to try tina... but I got scared; I did not want to ruin a good thing. In case she got mad at me, I chose to hide this part of my truth.
Instead, I told her how much I missed her, how much I loved her, and how much I masturbated thinking about her and all the fun we had together with other guys. That was my way of showing her I loved her. She was always good about sending me pictures expressing how much she missed me being between her legs. I also had hundreds of pictures and videos of her with me, and/or other guys. Images I used as bait on sex apps to attract the newest sex toy in human form.
When we got home, I tried to convince her that we needed a boyfriend. That might have been the drug residue talking, but I was not really sure. I was not attracted to men in a romantic way, but the sex was fun. When I was high, I became obsessed with anal play, with penis, and with having men come over to pleasure us, or me.
We argued a lot about who we brought into the bedroom. My preferred method was finding guys online or through sex apps. She wanted to meet someone more organically. She cared what they looked like and if they had a good personality. I just cared about what they looked like from the waist down…well, maybe from the chest down. It was when she made her argument that we should find one or two guys that we could see regularly that I came up with the idea that maybe we should just have a boyfriend. In all reality though, I liked the chase and random sex more.
Sex with random partners was playing Russian Roulette for sure, but it was also more exciting...to me.
Once she did enough cocaine and drank enough alcohol, she would relax her resolve and I would end up getting my way; I always got my way. On occasion, we would meet a really cool guy that I wouldn’t have minded having as a regular play toy but it would never last long. I think they would either get freaked out about the amount of drugs we were doing or they would figure out that we had enjoyed other men either before or after they had been with us and they wouldn't come back. Sometimes they were secretly married but that was never fun to find out.
Look at me, with morals, ha!
For whatever reason, the ones we hit it off with the most never came back.
Honestly, that was ok with me. I never wanted anyone getting too close to me where they could potentially blow our cover or try to blackmail us.
She started to work for me, and it was her job to hold things down while I was away. I went away on business trips building our skincare business and I was cheating on her. Technically, it was “cheating”, but I never saw it that way. It was just sex with guys, lots of guys. It wasn’t like I was letting them have a piece of my heart or anything. It was just sex; at least that’s what I convinced myself.
I kept hearing the word “West” echo in my ears that night.
Before I passed out drunk, only hours after getting home from being gone for 2 weeks, I said to her, “I have to get the F out of here.”
“Where are you going?” she asked.
“West! I think I will go to Denver and decide from there. I feel like I just need to go so I can think of a way we can grow our company and it will be good for me to drive for a while.”
The next morning, I packed my brand new $105,000 BMW X5 M ultra-souped-up automobile with custom suits and workout clothes. I kissed her and my English Bulldog goodbye and headed ‘West’.
The drive was beautiful and peaceful, although the one thing I was not prepared for was a Spring blizzard. As I arrived in Denver, a blizzard had shut down most of the main roads, however, I still managed to make it to dinner with my friend and his wife who had started distributing our skincare line in Nicaragua and Colorado. The next day the blizzard became more intense, so I decided to head to Las Vegas to see my friends, who sold their pizza dough distributorship for a billion dollars and stay at their home for a few days.
Getting to Las Vegas was a shock to my system going from a blizzard to over 90 degrees. By the time I showed up at my friends’ insanely beautiful home, I had it all to myself. I went out to their pool to get some sun and smoke; the new Sativa I picked up on the drive.
I am not sure if it was the incredible high or if it was the power of the sunshine, but I started to see flashes of the life I had been living. Money was escaping me like I had a plague and I envisioned my future reality. Not liking what I saw, I walked back into the house, grabbed a bottle of Tequila, a cup of ice, then went back to where I was sitting at the pool. I could not drink away the concern fast enough.
The next morning, I woke up with a weighted blanket of guilt and shame. What am I doing? I have to stop this. I need to leave here. I am alone and all I want to do is fill this void with my normal prescription of coke, meth, and sex. I could not do that there though, they had cameras everywhere. I could, however, take an Uber to a bathhouse, I thought to myself.
No, I have to stop this!
No more, I told myself, as I had so many times before, but I meant it that time.
I sent my girlfriend a message to tell her I missed her and that I planned to leave for LA in a few days. I also shared with her my conviction about taking a break from drinking and partying. I told her; it was time. I was exhausted and I knew that I could not make enough money to keep up with that lifestyle. I had no idea how she felt about all of that, but I knew keeping up with the double life was hard enough. In order to have the life I wanted, I needed to stop partying and get my mind right.
My obsession with sex and drugs consumed me all day, every day, up to that point. Even when I was not partying, I was plotting the next sexual adventure with men from sex apps and kinky online sites.
I spent the next week detoxing; white-knuckling life as I did everything I could to stop compulsively thinking about drugs, sex, and the freaking financial mess I was in.
I started to feel flaming good, again.
Not good like I felt when I was high, but I began feeling normal and started paying attention to the Charles Stanley devotionals my mom sent me nearly every day. I never really understood Pastor Charles Stanley’s messages until I began to actually read them sober.
I started to feel lighter, not so weighted down by my life, and I began to believe that maybe I was not bisexual. Maybe I could be normal after all. I felt inspired to turn my company around and become who I was created to be. I knew I had a hot-selling skincare product, and I was determined to make some killer deals happen in LA... determined to make my dreams come true in the process. I packed up my car again and headed west to the City of Angels.
LA here I come, baby!