I discovered at an early age how much women love diamonds and gold. The first piece of jewelry I ever bought for a female was a promise ring. The dia­mond was so tiny you could hardly even see it or tell it was there. Nonetheless, my 9th grade girlfriend adored it and promptly gave me a kiss. My first wife loved jewelry. But she didn’t get any diamonds and gold. A Choctaw Indian, I bought her rings, bracelets and necklaces made of sterling silver and turquoise. It wasn’t that I didn’t love her. At the time, I just couldn’t afford the good stuff being diamonds and gold. And even if I had been able to afford it, she probably would have got mad at me and hocked it or threw it in my face. All the fine diamonds at Tiffany’s couldn’t please that woman. (See previous blog “The Wrath ofPocahontas”) The Wrath Of Pocahontas

My girlfriend Tina liked diamonds and gold. I bought her some pretty nice rings back in 1983. Blonde and blue, she looked stunning wearing all her expen­sive jewelry. The first one carat cluster I ever bought a woman I bought for Tina. Young at the time, I bought it at Service Merchandise instead of Zales or Kay Jewelers. When Tina ran off with my best friend, she took the ring with her. I sure miss my friend. Just kidding! But she did leave me for another man. Think he bought her any rings? I seriously doubt it. Then there was my girl­friend of 1984. She too got diamonds and gold, but after three years(yes 3) pleasuring her and not getting any pussy? I still had to go. (See previous blog “How ‘Bout a Blowjob”)

How About A Blow Job Yes, there’s been lots of women in my life. And they all got their fair share of jewelry.

My third wife Melinda Ann? Now there was a girl who was spoiled rotten with diamonds and gold. She had rings on every finger, bracelets, necklaces and a gold Seiko watch to boot. There are pictures of her in “Tattoos For Women 21″. You see, she not only got diamonds and gold. She got five grand’s worth of profession­ally done tattoos too. When buying Melinda Ann jewelry, I chose a lot of Black Hill’s gold. I even updated her stuff. When I bought something bigger and better, her old diamonds and gold either got traded in on the purchase or placed in a scrap bag for melting or trading later on. This girl was decked out ladies! I enjoyed buying for her mainly because she was appreciative. Plus, I was high rolling at the time and had all the money in the world. You should have seen the cute little look she got on her face and the way she crinkled her nose. She loved it when I bought her diamonds and gold. And she loved old Tripper as well.

I remember the first one carat solitaire I ever purchased. It was a marquis cut. The guy at Andy’s Gun and Pawn beat me out of that one. Then there were the begets and pear shaped diamonds I’d bought and traded for. And the many rings made out of 18 and 24 karat gold. For a while there, I was dismantling stolen rings placing each individual diamond in small ziplock bags according to weight. Taking my melted down gold, I had custom rings and bracelets made for my girl­friends. All of which they thoroughly enjoyed. And how about this? Anyone ever heard of a mossenite? A mossenite looks like a diamond, will pass for a diamond and even test positive as a diamond on a jewelry store grade diamond tester. But they’re fake! Beware of ads in the newspaper that say, “One carat solitaire $800″. Noting that they never said “diamond” at all. Been there/done that. Lesson learned. Just so you know, you can’t always trust a diamond tester.

The guy who snitched me out on this bit? (See previous blog “The Rat”)THE RAT He use to bring me lots of diamonds and gold. Traded jewelry to me for speed all the time. Sometimes deals a man just couldn’t turn down. My lady friend Jo-Ann told me not to trust Tonmy. Said she felt he was no fucking good. Ignoring her woman’s intuition, I dealt with him anyway. And here I sit today. Doing an ass-load of time because I was greedy and wouldn’t listen when I should have. I got a diamond tennis bracelet from another rat. Twenty-two quarter carat stones set in 14 karat gold. Jackie Butler the stripper got that one. Along with a couple of grams of snow. Of course she was worth it. In reality, she was literally worth her weight in gold. A fun little chick. The kind of girl that caused me to trade dope for diamonds and gold. Man what a hotty! Not just any girl could have got five and a half total carats of stones.

The biggest and best diamond ring I ever traded for was one where I got a very good deal. Sight unseen, I bought a pawn ticket from a friend. I picked up the ring at Paul’s. It had three stones only. A one carat solitaire set in the center of the ring and two three-quarter carat stones on either side. Melinda wanted that ring. And wanted it bad. Begged me for it. But that was one ring I just couldn’t let her have. I bought it as an investment. And in the end, I made money which was a rare thing for me to do. That was one ring she never got to wear on her finger. A friend of mine’s father owns it now. He was smart enough to know what it was and bought it from me when I was down and out and needed the dough. In a way, I wish I would have kept that particular ring. Rings like that are few and far between.

Some of my customers use to think I was a pawn broker. Bringing jewelry as collateral to hold. One girl brought me a ring asking me to keep it until she could pay me for some speed. Said she’d be back in a week. I told her I didn’t want to take her ring but if I did, and she didn’t return, I’d sell it for the cost of the dope. An entire month later she came back asking me if I still had her one carat diamond ring. Didn’t have the money to pick it up, but she still wanted to know. When I told her I no longer had it, that a deal was a deal. She got all sad eyed and upset wishing she hadn’t given it to me at all. That’s when I took it out of my safe and tossed it back to her saying, “This one’s on me. Clean up and don’t hock your jewelry for any more dope.” I just couldn’t bring myself to keep that poor little girl’s ring. But still, I wanted to teach her a lesson letting her sweat.

Never bought any rocks for myself. But I did buy myself some gold. All the diamonds I bought or traded for went to my girls. I gave Kim a nice ring and matching earrings. She probably traded them off the minute I got put in jail. Some women are like that. And others appreciate what they are given. I’m the kind of guy that would rather buy something and give it to a girlfriend than buy something for myself. Especially when it comes to diamonds and gold. From that very first promise ring to the last ring I gave to Jo-Ann, I still remember them all. Being retired, I’ll probably never get to trade for any more. They say diamonds are a girl’s best friend. And you know what? I believe that, they sure got me a lot of preferential treatment over the years. And if I had it to do all over again? I’d still buy and trade for diamonds and gold! I am Tripper! Better diamonds and gold days!

Anyone still enjoy good old snail mail? I was just thinking about that today. In today’s computer age, despite e-mail, text messaging and all the other cool ways of communicating with others, there’s still no greater way to say I love you than in a letter. All women like receiving love letters. Or at least I think they do anyway. There’s just something about the written word. Passion and intimacy can be related via paper and pen like nothing else in the world. Personally, I enjoy writing letters. To me whether sending or receiving, a love letter says it all!

       Tenderness, charm and character. Happiness fulfilled! One’s feelings ex-pressed on stationary from the depth of the human heart—insight into the writer’s mind and soul. Personal, confidential, revealing, romantic thoughts. Undying devotion to the one love. It all comes together at the stroke of a pen. Over the years, I’ve composed hundreds of love letters to my lady of the day. A million times your faithful Tripper, oh how I love and adore thee like no other woman alive. Do any of you ladies out there enjoy love letters as much as me?

Just the right touch, passionate feelings, carefully chosen words immersed in intimacy. Yours eternal and better days ahead, my angel, my everything, I dream of you day and night. Not a moment goes by that you’re not on my mind and in my heart. Oh what immeasureable joy is is for me to be able to write this love letter to you and … receive one ever so worthy in return. I confess my love to thee this dark lonely night sitting here in prison. You are the sole light that brings me love, warmth and happiness.

     Struck my Cupid’s arrow of love,  I long for the day I can touch your sweet face, stroke your long, beautiful hair and kiss your soft, moist lips! Please love me forever and always as I love you. Though I can’t be with you now, know in your heart I see you when I close my eyes at night and hope to meet you some­where on the airwaves. Hopelessly devoted,  smitten and intrigued; you are the one and only love of my life and I shall remain your servant and lover until the day when darkness finally overcomes me. Please, accept these words as true.

My private pleasure is to write to you. I’ll never let you go. Although miles between us, rain, sleet, hail or snow, I cannot live without your love and this love letter I know will somehow make it to you. I miss your smile and your eyes that mesmerize. So very fine,  the only woman for me is you. One day soon I’ll be able to show you the true way I feel. But until that time, these special words on paper are all I have to offer. Yet, in them, are my utmost secrets, dreams, desires—written in a whisper to my goddess so beautiful and rare.

    Oh the enthusiastic affection I send to you using paper and pen. In love and enamored, using the minutest detail, I appeal to you in written word—senti­mental feelings, wanton of your heart, mind, body and soul! A craftsman filled with sexual desire, I hope my letters make you blush and cause you to feel the warm attachment that comes with them. As,  in the end,  I hope our game of love is to be won without the loss of a single point. Yes, my love, my darling, my dear. No woman alive holds a candle to you!

Your closeness I live for, to hear your heart beat and to enjoy the perfume from your neck and between your breasts. To watch you sleep and smother you with passionate kisses. Oh how I want thee. Please wait for me my darling dearest, as one day I’ll fly home with a dozen red roses in my hand. I’ll never love another. Your name above my heart, no man alive could ever love you the way I do. Please love me forever as I will always love you, and  …  constantly check your mailbox for more love letters from the pen!

 I’m Tripper! Better Days!

The Red Rose
Category: Life

Among the best loved and most well known flowers in the world is the red rose. Its deep crimson color, often rich in fragrance, and the beauty of its form, have made the red rose the ultimate symbol of love since ancient times. Personally, I’ve loved red roses ever since I was a little boy. My grandmother use to have rose bushes in her yard and I’d sometimes pick red roses and take them to my mother. My mother loved roses. And so does about every woman I know. Some roses are so breathtakingly beautiful that they command intense intimate interest and bring out the best in the recipients of their love. Out of all the women I’ve ever dated, I’ve bought every single one of them either bouquets of red roses or a single, long stemmed red rose. And for the guys who are reading this blog, you should try it. Because red roses got me laid many, many times.

Females are well known for being creatures of emotion. I once saw legitimate emotion in the eyes of my lover when I gave her a dozen red roses complete with baby’s breath in a fine crystal vase of colorless, transparent glass. She was so beautiful, glowing and attractive the moment I handed her the long stemmed roses. With charm, grace and dignity she happily accepted my amorous offering of devotion, endearment and tenderness. I loved the way she smiled and the innocent way she blushed and crinkled her nose - the look of which said a thousand words. And you know what? I enjoyed making her feel good that day. The vision of which is permanently imbedded in my heart and mind to this day. Such a lovely, pleasurable, elegant woman she was. Sitting here in prison, I wonder if she still remembers those red roses and the unconditional love given to her that day.

One of my favorite things to do is to leave a single, long stemmed, red rose under the wiper blade of a love interest’s car. However, that did get me in trouble one time when the husband of the woman I was having an affair with came to his wife’s work place and found the red rose. Then there was the time I ran into an old girlfriend in a bar. She said she was single, still worked at the same place and gave me her phone number on a card. So, I sent a dozen red roses to Furr’s Cafeteria where she worked as a hostess. Only later to call and hear her say, “My boyfriend got mad when he found out you sent me roses. He’s looking for you and pissed off like hell.” But … this chick had just told me she wasn’t seeing anyone! And even gave me her number and told me to call! What a wasted fifty spot that was. For the life of me, I’ve still yet to figure out why she lied.

I once left a red rose in the office of a hotel where I was staying with instructions to the desk clerk to give it and a note to a lady friend I was expecting to call. The note which read, “For a good time, see the guy in room 222.” Needless to say, I had a great time that night. Such a simple yet erotically stimulating flower the red rose. Did you know the attar of rose, a rich fragrant essential oil, is sometimes used in making perfume? And come to think about it, I think I read somewhere that rosehips are used in certain Wiccan love spells and other culture’s rituals and potions. Can a rose be considered voluptuous? As in suggesting sensual pleasure by fullness and beauty of form? All I know is, roses are startlingly beautiful and every woman I’ve ever given them to fell head over heels in love. They just fell and fell and fell!

After having spent numerous years behind bars and growing increasingly old, I often wonder if I can still get anywhere by giving a woman a dozen red roses. Surely they’re still considered elegant, vivid, colorful and the ultimate symbol of love. Tenacious of life and erotically stimulating, if I can’t do it on my own any more, maybe I can be assisted with the delicate intimacy projected by the rose. And believe it or not everyone, I’m still a romantic at heart. On Valentine’s Day I give red roses to the one I love and adore. And on her birthday she always receives the same. In closing, just want to let all my female readers know … I’ll love pretty women and red roses until the day I die! The red rose - the ultimate symbol of love! I’m Tripper. Better days full of love!