Foxy: My Life in Three Acts by Pam Grier

Author:Pam Grier [Grier, Pam]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Biography & Autobiography, Personal Memoirs
ISBN: 9780446564700
Google: oYg1AQAAQBAJ
Amazon: B00FOUPQKA
Publisher: Hachette UK
Published: 2010-04-27T12:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 20

Fame and Relationships

Freddie and I were getting amazingly close, and I considered marrying him—not that he had asked. We had become inseparable when we were in the same city, and he had gained enough trust to really confide in me. He was truthful to a fault, he was punctual, and we shared a professional work ethic. When either of us was working, we supported each other by refusing to be an impediment to the other’s dream. Freddie was never jealous of my success, and I was not jealous of his, one of the overwhelming issues present in almost any romantic relationship. We both enjoyed fast cars, great movies, and watching other stand-ups work.

As much as we cared about each other, however, there were some serious obstacles that emerged the longer we dated. No matter how much I was growing to love Freddie, in the back of my mind I couldn’t help but wonder about fame and relationships. How could two people stay connected and raise children when we were both so goal and career oriented? We were often on different sides of the country. When you have children, someone needs to be home to see them off to school each day and put them to bed at night. Would one of us have to give up our dreams to raise a family?

The drug culture was another major obstacle. It was on the rise, and many comedians (along with a whole lot of other people) were doing a lot of cocaine as well as LSD and other hallucinogens. Coke was becoming a daily thing for Freddie and the rest of his friends, but I couldn’t accept it. The more coke Freddie did, the more he dropped his inhibitions, suddenly acting rude and unrestrained, with no filters to his language. He became less prudent when he was high, speaking in stream of consciousness and losing all track of time. His trustworthiness disappeared, and he became capricious and undependable. And he wanted me to indulge, too. But if I did what he did, how would we ever get home without a designated driver? Would we be photographed by the paparazzi, sitting at a bus stop together, all high and raggedy, waiting for a ride home?

When I continued to refuse to do drugs with Freddie, he became paranoid. “Why won’t you play with me?” he asked. He jumped into his Groucho persona to lighten up the mood.

“This isn’t about you,” I told him. “I have to keep my mind clear.”

As if he hadn’t heard me, he said, “You should go to New York and do Broadway.”

I appreciated his confidence in me. He really seemed to have faith in me, and when he was sober, we got along great. But one night, as we got into bed at his place, I asked Freddie, “Where are the condoms?”

“I forgot them,” he said.

“C’mon, where are they?” I asked again. I knew there was a drawer full of them. I also knew how much Freddie disliked condoms. Was he being lazy, or was he trying to get me pregnant?

“Don’t worry,” he said.

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