Officer Goodbody


I am sitting here drinking vanilla coconut milk (so delicious but still thrown off by the no dairy statement) and eating fresh strawberries, wallowing in a funk of sorts. I have been wracking my brain trying to figure out the last time I kissed a man, the last time I touched a man or was touched by one. The last time I had random, interesting conversation with a man while naked and sated. The arrangements don’t count as they are all but ended and honestly…the sex was not that great. There were a couple of standouts, but for the most part it was either all about them (understandable) or if they did give me an orgasm, I was not allowed to enjoy it because then it was their turn and apparently men think women are as selfish as they are in bed.

So, I am not going to spend the entire post lamenting to you readers about the lack of intimacy in my life, but it is trains of thought such as this one which leads me to think back on the various men I have shared pieces of my emotional being with versus just exchanging bodily fluids. Which leads me to Officer Goodbody…the man is my what if, believe it or not. No one knows about Officer Goodbody except Baby Mama…he was a part of the person I was before..the girl with no job, no Panel and an addiction from Hell. I first met OGB when I was young(er), skinny (I was on a steady diet of oodles & noodles, hotdogs, Doublemint gum and crack rocks) and was just starting to lose control of my addiction. And the funny part is..I did not even like him when I met him.

I know when I talk about the men I met in addiction, I tend to make them all negative users but there are exceptions: the man who nursed me back to health for a week (I repaid him by stealing his money and car, then locking him in his own house) and the guy who saw me stumbling/sleepwalking down the avenue after I had been up 12 days straight with no food. He took me to a motel, let me sleep for 3 days, fed me and gave me money without asking for anything in return other than to be careful. Officer Goodbody does not fall into this category: when I first met him, I punched him in his face in an attempt to avoid being arrested for just purchasing a $20 crack rock…the man called me a Big Bird Bitch and took great delight in informing I was going to jail on not one, but two charges. Actually, it should have been three charges (possession, assaulting an officer and fleeing arrest as I took off running after punching him…no way was I going to jail sober, not to mention waste my hard earned $20), but I did not correct him.

Fast forward 90 days (I did go to jail) and I saw him one night while I was out on the stroll trying to get my fix on. He stopped me, but did not harass me. Asked me how I had been, was I staying on the straight and narrow (seriously, it is 4am and I am showing cleavage and ass crack…you really want to ask that?) and told me to behave myself….and that started a pattern. Whenever Officer Goodbody saw me, he would stop me and do the chit chat thing. I learned his real name, his age, that he was in college to further his career , a homeowner (which was a lie…he was renting a room) and that he was single. He learned my name, my age and I told him that I was trying to earn a living until I could get my housing and job situation together. So already, we are both lying trying to make ourselves better than what we were…but he found me cute and sexy and I found him HOT. He was short, but very well muscled (he was big into fitness) with green eyes and caramel colored skin, clean shaven and wavy black hair. And then came the night we began our relationship.

I was hanging out with Baby Daddy (Baby Mama’s husband at the time) on the Avenue, scheming hard to get another fix and enjoying the sights and sounds of the Avenue on a Friday night when Officer Goodbody pulled up in his police car, told me to get in and off we sped to the park. He wanted me, I wanted him and even though I knew I could not openly solicit him for dollars, he knew my situation and offered up $40. It was…different. I had never had rough, raw sex…the kind that is almost animalistic in nature (and would not have it again until AFO)…the kind where grunting and groaning were the norm. He did not suck and lick…he nibbled and chewed. I tossed my legs straight out and cut on the spotlight that sat on the outside of the car and told him to leave it on as the risk got me hotter. He told me how good it was, how pretty I was and that he could be falling in love with me AND my sex…and just like that, I had a boyfriend.

Needless to say, this relationship was challenging to say the least. We were starting out with lies on both sides, we were on opposite sides of the law, he would definitely be a cramp in my lifestyle and I brought absolutely nothing to the table other than a habit and a cover story. Even though we spent oodles of time together, talked on the phone everyday and I managed to get my addiction under control somewhat to spend evenings and nights with him (he was on foot patrol and he and his partner would crash at Baby Mama’s house with me)…we were doomed to fail. When I asked him why he wanted a relationship with me, he told me that besides the obvious, my intelligence was a huge turn-on and I did not know that would be a huge part of the foundation of the relationship we embarked on as he used me to do his college level homework. I was the one doing the studying and research, I was the one writing papers and thesis for classes. Yes, he was using me but I did not mind as I was the one absorbing the knowledge and expanding my horizons….and also because I was using him in return.

He was the one who protected me when I beat the living shit out of a chick and left her unconscious in the middle of the street; he was the one let me know when the busts and stings were going down so I could warn my friends; he was the one who unknowingly supplied my habit when he gave me crack found during busts and arrests so I could sell that instead of selling myself. He was the one who took care of things when I got my jaw broken in two places for smoking up an ounce of crack and no money to give the dealer for doing so. Having OGB as a boyfriend did not cramp my lifestyle as much as I thought it would and in exchange for giving the dealers the info OGB gave me….they still sold to me. Win-win.

Our relationship was passionate: it was intensely sexual and our fights were legend on the Avenue. Baby Mama was there for the one fight that to this day stands out as a hall of famer: it started out as a romantic evening….I bought him flowers, he cooked dinner and I had squeezed a fresh lemon “down there” to both tighten and freshen me up. He told me how citrusy I tasted and I told him I was that good…and then we both laughed when he sucked out a lemon seed. Afterwards, as we lay in bed together, he made the statement that he never knew how a woman such as me could be so smart and ambitious on one hand and so dumb and lazy on the other. And it was on! I cursed, I yelled, I screamed….I threw grease on him and went after OGB with a frying pan…and slipped and fell in the grease I just threw everywhere.

We did not last much longer after that fight…he got transferred, I spiraled further down into addiction and of course, we lost touch. I ran across him when I was early in recovery and had just gotten my apartment. He came over for dinner and told me I was still an OCD housekeeper and raved over my cooking wondering how it could have gotten better. We caught up on each other’s lives (he was still single, I was seeing Married Man) and after that…he became a memory. I wonder sometimes what would have happened had I not been an addict when we met or if I were not all tangled up with Married Man when we ran across each other all those years later. I wonder if he ever married, if he still thinks of me and what could have been. See, there I go idealizing again…knowing us, after multiple trips to the ER (both of us) and nights in jail (me), we would be bitterly divorced and calling each other four and five letter words every time we heard the other one’s name.

Hopefully you enjoyed the tale of Officer Goodbody (and it wasn’t too long of a read)…working now a post where I am going to find one positive thing I have gotten from certain men. Artsy Craftsy is laughing over that one and Morning Person is breaking out her therapist cap as I type. As always…thanks for stopping past and reading and as usual…enjoy your day!

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