THE THREE JULIES

There was another girlfriend I didn't mention- Julie number one. We never lived together and it only lasted a few months. In fact she wouldn't even warrent mention if her name hadn't been Julie. J#1 was a radio stringer and law student from LA. She was tall, skinny, and had a big mop of soft curly hair. We were a mismatch from the start. I would tell her of my work and plans to go to seminary and she would either glaze over or go into lawyer mode and cross examine me until I cried. We eventually broke up with no hard feelings. I heard she was a big shot DA in California.
Julie #2 (Cookie) you already know about and Julie #3 (Big Nose Julie) lived over the gallery in NY. It was lust at first sight with BNJulie. I'd never heard of pheromones at the time, but that's what must have been happening. From the first time we swapped spit we couldn't take our hands off each other. She worked for a design firm in Soho, dabbled with the camera and modeled once in a while. I had a girlfriend in Brooklyn. She had a boyfriend in Rochester. A tall, lithe Polish/Mexican mix, she wore her hair close cropped and favored wife beater T-shirts with black bras and of course that beautiful big nose. She'd come down to the gallery around closing, her bra strap would fall off her shoulder and I'd make some excuse about going to an opening, leaving Cookie watching TV in Brooklyn.
I can't say I never cheated before. I'd had one night stand strays before, even as far back as Sweets. But this was my first "affair". Two women. Two birthday cakes. Two Xmas presents. Two storys to keep straight. Same name. At first it was a blast. The EV was wide open. Afterhours clubs, gallery openings, the odd rich person party, drugs and booze everywhere. You almost needed two girlfriends just to keep up. I stopped doing coke and switched to meth. One tiny line of speed did more than a gram of coke. I had to save my penneys. Speed was much more economical. At 32 I was so full of myself I felt I was indestructable.
Then, as anyone whose ever seen Behind the Music knows, the good times never last. Show after show at the gallery flatlined. I'd get a little press, maybe sell one or two pieces, but never made enough to get out of the red. Being a dealer in NYC was a bit different than my let's pretend world of SF. The "real" artworld was a scary place. I showed good artists, some who are very successful today, but back then i couldn't give it away. I hired an assistant- Mr. B. Nickass, who I thought could help with my presentation, and I went back to working carpentry to pay for him. He had his own agenda AND he wouldn't sweep the floor. He's a prof. at Columbia today. Cookie and I broke up after i fell asleep over at BNJ's place and came home at dawn. The cracks were becoming visable.