His side:
My blue Lebaron was a welcome sight at the nearby park where I picked up male prostitutes. They knew they'd be safe, respected and paid. But I was a recovering addict and knew that the guys were using the money for drugs. Guilt and the fading need for sex without love eventually ended my visits to the park. For the next month my intercom buzzed at all hours of the night. I'd blast "WHO IS IT?" knowing it was one of the guys from the park. The speaker's response was always the same, "Blue car!". They didn't even know my name.
My side:
Rob's blue car was always a welcomed sight on the block where I hustled. Other guys tried flagging him down, but I was the one he wanted. Unlike most of the men who were looking for a "quickie", Rob would take me to his place and let me take a shower or a bath if I asked. The sex was so good I felt like I should have been paying him; and when we were finished he'd say "You don't have to do this, you deserve better." After he stopped coming around I went into rehab.
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