Your smile, and all your showin
Lets Me know that you
Like what you see
And wanna get to know me too
This could very well, be the start of something special
Happy that I met you!
Brandy
If you haven't had the view of the Beautiful full Moon that's gracing the sky right now, you are missing an awe inspiring sight. I love the Moon. It is a love affair that has lasted. The Moon my man. This Moon being the true first of the year, has inspired me to talk about firsts. (By true first I am referring to the Vernal Equinox)
My first date ever was a comedy of errors. I was around 18 and I had spotted this adorable guy at a bar. We were always hanging in Bars, not drinking, and turning down advances from men in there 30's. I had seen him with the crew of super bougie Howard U. students I knew of. They were always looking over their shoulders and laughing in this self conscious yet showy way. Like they were having the time of their lives, but at your expense. I noticed his ass first. Although, I had no clue what I would do with that much badonkadonk!
I approached him, he was finishing up a game of darts and I asked him if I could play. I bet him a date if he lost. We went out the next night.
I drove up the steep hill that cuts through the plantational campus. My put-put of a car barely made it. I wasn't concerned, I had a car, bottom line. I wisely, parked around the back of the dorm. He walked out looking every bit of HBCU preppy and stole my heart. I was all teeth and gums. As we walked to my car, I apologized for it. I was self -conscious now. He just got in and looked around and smiled. I told him to wind down his window, because I had no A/C.
It was a warm September night. We went somewhere and did something. It was fun and we decided to walk around Dupont Circle for a while. We reached the south corner of the circle where one of the buildings cuts a sharp angle, making the shape of the structure a giant wedge of cheese. At the vertex,at street level was a Benetton store location. They had a specially angled display to catch the eye of people stuck in the infamous roundabout. Well I was intrigued by something which caused me to get a closer look. I leaned forward to see whatever it was. SMACK! There was a pane of glass, clean and clear. I had hit my head on the angled glass! My adorable date, now fell into himself with laughter. I was still stunned. It hurt.
I have recently met another adorable teddy bear of a man and we have had our first and second dates. We are at a stage in our courtship where we text 0r speak daily. I want him more and more everyday. This is new for me. I have been out of practice, but he is open and easy to communicate with.
We discovered we liked each other, one sunny day during a random text conversation. He was following up on our previous conversations about podcasting ( His podcast is an ATL fave). He mentioned something about me being gracious with my time. I let him know that he was able to access me as much as he liked. We have been happy flirting ever since. I often wonder if I approached him the night we met, would we still be this jovial. Did I achieve a little more success,by being patient. It was nearly a month after we initially met, that we confessed our interests.
I think a lot of times, I have jumped the gun, and put my agenda on the table in the honor of transparency. I now think it just makes my intentions clear for the other party to trifle with. It sounds so jaded to me. But I think I will let it play out from now on. I will exchange information and pursue a relationship based on mutual interests. I am not so sure. I guess I am asking, If you know you want it, must you always front?
AINT THAT THE TRUTH!
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Acapella
You are the drum in my heart beat
Bass and guitar lead
Stuck on the notes you play
Kelis
I have always longed for love.BIG romantic LOVE! Attention I have always had. Friends, family and lovers I have had in abundance. I guess I am insatiable because, none of it seems to compare to the feeling of a man's tenderness directed solely at me. Even if only for a moment.
I was in need of that touch, one cool fall night in Brooklyn. My phone rang and I lazily said Hello. I am at Grant Ave, do you want to see me? I looked at my phone to read the ID and there it was. Quincy. I agreed, hopped in my late 80's model Camry, and drove the three blocks to pick him up. He was smiling at me when I pulled up.
He got in and didn't look my way, and asked where I wanted to go. I decided to take him on a drive. I was tired of being in the apartment. He rolled up a blunt full of pungent blueberry and made small talk. We wound our way through Queens until I saw the east side skyline of Manhattan. He directed me to a park in the Jackson Heights neighborhood. We can smoke here. We got out and started walking along the river edge. We saw guys in the shadows, doing various freaky things. One male/female couple were clearly about to go half on a baby, on the hood of a white pimp mobile. I knew what kind of park this was, but was slightly amused he brought me there.
We had met months ago and never hung out. He was a friend of a friend. We talked fashion and music. He was from Baltimore and he had a gold crown on his tooth to prove it. I overlooked it, because everything about his style was so on point. Vintage golf caps matched to argyle socks, thrift store t-shirts and limited edition denim, all worn with a frayed denim jacket. I think he would have worn that jacket to a funeral. He never took it off. And I never saw his legs in public.
Months after making acquaintance, there we were smoking a cigar full of ganja, on the side of an abandoned swimming pool overlooking the East Harlem river Skyline. Do you like me? I coquettishly asked. I am not good at noticing when guys are into me. He took a puff, inhaled, and exhaled Yea.
To say I was surprised would be the least of things, because at that very moment the cops showed up. Far flung the blunt and out came the cigarettes. He moved with the dexterity of a lifelong bad boy. I lit up and moved slowly toward him, in terror. Its fine. He cooed. My fear evaporated. The cops didn't even stop at us. But they eventually found somebody to harass. The couple on the car. Good thing to, that girl I heard say she was 14.
We got back to Fort Greene, where he lived and I dropped him at a bar. He said he was meeting friends and would call me later to see if I was up. I smiled and stonedly made my way home. Blaring my ( later stolen) copy of the instrumental version of N.E.R.D's first release. I was no longer alone in the City. I felt well pleased. I also felt,thirsty. So I stopped at the next corner market I saw and grabbed a gallon of water.
I had downed the thing in a matter of blocks. While waiting at a light on Eastern Pkwy, the urge to piss hit my loins with a BANG! I swerved out of traffic, down the access street and onto a side street. No shortage of abandoned buildings to use. I barely stopped, through on the parking brake and jumped out. I left my door open and ran three steps into a demolished tenement structure. I pissed a fury of water all over the place. I was in ecstasy.Crisis avoided, I returned to my vehicle. A stoop boy across the street said something to me. I ignored him and pulled off. I turned to get back to my route. Green light. White Van! I am about to have a head on collision with a white church van!
Then the sirens and the noise is everywhere. " Get out of your car with your hands up, NYPD" Everything else is a blur. All I remember is something about them looking for crack, and making me take off my shoes. I yelled for people to look and make sure the boys in blue did not mistake any of my movements as furtive. I survived that ordeal, only to return to my car with no rear view mirror and stuff everywhere. I decided to just deal with it later and pulled off again.
When my high rise was in full view on Linden Blvd. My phone rang. Hey chocolate, are u home? I shakily replied no. I was completely sobered up. He asked if I wanted company, I replied sure. I am at your stop. I made the right and went and scooped him up.
We came back to my place. He rolled another blunt. We smoked and we talked about designers, while he played in my hair. He kissed me on my neck. I began to cry. He didn't ask me any questions, he led me to my futon,helped me out of my clothes, and laid me down. He got undressed. He laid beside me. He rolled my large frame onto his slender one. I fell asleep. I loved Quincy that night. He came to see me every night that week. He moved back to Baltimore after that.
Until him NYC had been very lonely. Thank you Quincy.
AINT THAT THE TRUTH!
Bass and guitar lead
Stuck on the notes you play
Kelis
I have always longed for love.BIG romantic LOVE! Attention I have always had. Friends, family and lovers I have had in abundance. I guess I am insatiable because, none of it seems to compare to the feeling of a man's tenderness directed solely at me. Even if only for a moment.
I was in need of that touch, one cool fall night in Brooklyn. My phone rang and I lazily said Hello. I am at Grant Ave, do you want to see me? I looked at my phone to read the ID and there it was. Quincy. I agreed, hopped in my late 80's model Camry, and drove the three blocks to pick him up. He was smiling at me when I pulled up.
He got in and didn't look my way, and asked where I wanted to go. I decided to take him on a drive. I was tired of being in the apartment. He rolled up a blunt full of pungent blueberry and made small talk. We wound our way through Queens until I saw the east side skyline of Manhattan. He directed me to a park in the Jackson Heights neighborhood. We can smoke here. We got out and started walking along the river edge. We saw guys in the shadows, doing various freaky things. One male/female couple were clearly about to go half on a baby, on the hood of a white pimp mobile. I knew what kind of park this was, but was slightly amused he brought me there.
We had met months ago and never hung out. He was a friend of a friend. We talked fashion and music. He was from Baltimore and he had a gold crown on his tooth to prove it. I overlooked it, because everything about his style was so on point. Vintage golf caps matched to argyle socks, thrift store t-shirts and limited edition denim, all worn with a frayed denim jacket. I think he would have worn that jacket to a funeral. He never took it off. And I never saw his legs in public.
Months after making acquaintance, there we were smoking a cigar full of ganja, on the side of an abandoned swimming pool overlooking the East Harlem river Skyline. Do you like me? I coquettishly asked. I am not good at noticing when guys are into me. He took a puff, inhaled, and exhaled Yea.
To say I was surprised would be the least of things, because at that very moment the cops showed up. Far flung the blunt and out came the cigarettes. He moved with the dexterity of a lifelong bad boy. I lit up and moved slowly toward him, in terror. Its fine. He cooed. My fear evaporated. The cops didn't even stop at us. But they eventually found somebody to harass. The couple on the car. Good thing to, that girl I heard say she was 14.
We got back to Fort Greene, where he lived and I dropped him at a bar. He said he was meeting friends and would call me later to see if I was up. I smiled and stonedly made my way home. Blaring my ( later stolen) copy of the instrumental version of N.E.R.D's first release. I was no longer alone in the City. I felt well pleased. I also felt,thirsty. So I stopped at the next corner market I saw and grabbed a gallon of water.
I had downed the thing in a matter of blocks. While waiting at a light on Eastern Pkwy, the urge to piss hit my loins with a BANG! I swerved out of traffic, down the access street and onto a side street. No shortage of abandoned buildings to use. I barely stopped, through on the parking brake and jumped out. I left my door open and ran three steps into a demolished tenement structure. I pissed a fury of water all over the place. I was in ecstasy.Crisis avoided, I returned to my vehicle. A stoop boy across the street said something to me. I ignored him and pulled off. I turned to get back to my route. Green light. White Van! I am about to have a head on collision with a white church van!
Then the sirens and the noise is everywhere. " Get out of your car with your hands up, NYPD" Everything else is a blur. All I remember is something about them looking for crack, and making me take off my shoes. I yelled for people to look and make sure the boys in blue did not mistake any of my movements as furtive. I survived that ordeal, only to return to my car with no rear view mirror and stuff everywhere. I decided to just deal with it later and pulled off again.
When my high rise was in full view on Linden Blvd. My phone rang. Hey chocolate, are u home? I shakily replied no. I was completely sobered up. He asked if I wanted company, I replied sure. I am at your stop. I made the right and went and scooped him up.
We came back to my place. He rolled another blunt. We smoked and we talked about designers, while he played in my hair. He kissed me on my neck. I began to cry. He didn't ask me any questions, he led me to my futon,helped me out of my clothes, and laid me down. He got undressed. He laid beside me. He rolled my large frame onto his slender one. I fell asleep. I loved Quincy that night. He came to see me every night that week. He moved back to Baltimore after that.
Until him NYC had been very lonely. Thank you Quincy.
AINT THAT THE TRUTH!
Monday, March 29, 2010
Paper Bag
I was staring at the sky looking for a Star
To prey on
Or wish on
Or something like that...
F.Apple
I have indeed dated several other fellows where our relationship barely made it to the light of day. And not for any other reason but shame or fear. The only way I can come to terms with my ability to put up with the claustrophobia is I had accepted a policy of radical acceptance. Radical Acceptance is a phrase I picked up from perusing Buddhist philosophy. I just like the idea that two people can hold on to the core of who they are while building a third person, if you will.
I am not sure if many men understand this concept. Or at least not the ones I attract.
Enter Tyrone
Tyrone, was a second year law student at Howard Law. He swore I was smiling at him in the dark lower level of the landmark Fireplace bar, located on the edge of Dupont Circle. I noticed him staring at me and I had not been stared at in that way before. He had a wild look in his eyes and a New York bravado. He was extremely masculine and approached me aggressively. He smelled of faint musk and wore camouflage, GI Bill law student, just out of the closet DRAG. I was intrigued.
After a short sabbatical in Harlem at my friends apartment. I returned to DC ready for a cold winter. I had been very depressed and not sure of my direction. University of Maryland College Park was the antithesis of the small private New England College I previously attended. I was eager for an adventure. Tyrone and I would go to places I had never dreamed of.
He taught me things about my body. The first time we hooked up at his apartment. I was so nervous. Every touch he landed on me sent me into quivers. He growled and tugged on my clothes. He snarled and smacked my thighs. He appreciated the things on me that I always disliked. My love handles, man boobs, and flat awkward feet. He caressed, massaged, and nibbled every bit. He found a spot on my lower abdomen that sent me into convulsions, of laughter. I was playfully rejecting him, pushing is head away. He pinned me down. looked me dead in the eye. " Laughter is resistance, don't you feel good when you laugh. Relax and laugh."And did I, it was the most innocuous tickling I ever experienced. Thats coming from a former child tickle addict. I would almost pay people when I was a kid to get tickled. I am not ticklish anymore.
Wait I have to back up!
Before Tyrone there was Kindle. This was all around the turn of the millennium. It was the shedding of my need to be pursued and the beginning of my season of love lessons. Kindle was Tyrone's developmental course.
I was a waiter at a conspicuous Dupont Circle restaurant. I was stationed on the sidewalk table section and the late spring winds were picking up. I saw a massive figure moving slowly my way from across the lanes of traffic on the always snarled roundabout. I felt as if I willed him to walk over. Although I was closing the patio, I ran in and begged to take one more table, at the guests request. I have never wanted to feed a man more.
Back To Tyrone
I am in tears. We are standing on the East facing terrace of the National Capital Building. I am filled with a trembling I had not experienced. " I love you" had regressed me to an age before words. I was at once angered and in disbelief, thus producing confusion. I have always liked to be disoriented. The feeling of dizziness comforts me and always has. But this was more. It was too perfect. Cecil Beaton could not have set it better. I was on the set of An American in Paris. He was Gene Kelly and I was whoever she was. I needed an emotion and tears were picture perfect. The mist, the overly productive fountain, the night air, all of this was set into motion just to give me a reason to "ugly" cry.
I'm not sure where my next " I love you" will come from, but the first one was too much. Next time, I would like a faint stench of some sort and the plain setting of a chain restaurant. A laughing " I love you" over Ihop! That's what I want.
I will tell you what became of Tyrone on another post
AINT THAT THE TRUTH!
To prey on
Or wish on
Or something like that...
F.Apple
I have indeed dated several other fellows where our relationship barely made it to the light of day. And not for any other reason but shame or fear. The only way I can come to terms with my ability to put up with the claustrophobia is I had accepted a policy of radical acceptance. Radical Acceptance is a phrase I picked up from perusing Buddhist philosophy. I just like the idea that two people can hold on to the core of who they are while building a third person, if you will.
I am not sure if many men understand this concept. Or at least not the ones I attract.
Enter Tyrone
Tyrone, was a second year law student at Howard Law. He swore I was smiling at him in the dark lower level of the landmark Fireplace bar, located on the edge of Dupont Circle. I noticed him staring at me and I had not been stared at in that way before. He had a wild look in his eyes and a New York bravado. He was extremely masculine and approached me aggressively. He smelled of faint musk and wore camouflage, GI Bill law student, just out of the closet DRAG. I was intrigued.
After a short sabbatical in Harlem at my friends apartment. I returned to DC ready for a cold winter. I had been very depressed and not sure of my direction. University of Maryland College Park was the antithesis of the small private New England College I previously attended. I was eager for an adventure. Tyrone and I would go to places I had never dreamed of.
He taught me things about my body. The first time we hooked up at his apartment. I was so nervous. Every touch he landed on me sent me into quivers. He growled and tugged on my clothes. He snarled and smacked my thighs. He appreciated the things on me that I always disliked. My love handles, man boobs, and flat awkward feet. He caressed, massaged, and nibbled every bit. He found a spot on my lower abdomen that sent me into convulsions, of laughter. I was playfully rejecting him, pushing is head away. He pinned me down. looked me dead in the eye. " Laughter is resistance, don't you feel good when you laugh. Relax and laugh."And did I, it was the most innocuous tickling I ever experienced. Thats coming from a former child tickle addict. I would almost pay people when I was a kid to get tickled. I am not ticklish anymore.
Wait I have to back up!
Before Tyrone there was Kindle. This was all around the turn of the millennium. It was the shedding of my need to be pursued and the beginning of my season of love lessons. Kindle was Tyrone's developmental course.
I was a waiter at a conspicuous Dupont Circle restaurant. I was stationed on the sidewalk table section and the late spring winds were picking up. I saw a massive figure moving slowly my way from across the lanes of traffic on the always snarled roundabout. I felt as if I willed him to walk over. Although I was closing the patio, I ran in and begged to take one more table, at the guests request. I have never wanted to feed a man more.
Somehow, I knew I had to ask him out. I put on a bravado, I don't really have to this day. But he was down with getting to know more about me. I went home and called all my friends for a conference. We decided I was ready. I was only 20 but I never got carded. I got a fake ID just in case.
We dated our way around the world; Ethiopian restaurants in the bustling Adams Morgan neighborhood, Brazilian themed lounges in Dupont Circle south, Sexy Uptown Jazz clubs on the Historic U street. We were a handsome pair of chocolate men. We flirted with each other in a simple and boyish manner. Backhanded quick slaps to the torso, accented with a sly grin. The brush of the thigh when rising from the bar, always accompanied by mumbled excuse me. I couldn't wait to go to bed with him.
I never did get him in the bed. One night hanging out in the tony remote neighborhood of Friendship Heights, we were on the side of his car playing brotherly love. I was getting frustrated. I excused my self for the night. Moved in for a hug and he picked me up! While I had those luscious lips in reach, I went in for a peck. I promptly found myself on the ground. ( Stumped ) Me too!
As he pulled off in his family style car, I slowly hung my head and walked away. I waved behind myself as he honked to acknowledge his departure. I felt a sick feeling. Rejection is such a bitch. I was forced to acknowledge that Kindle was simply not into me. It took 2 weeks of phone calls to get him out of my system. We bump into each other every now and again. I swoon every time.
Back To Tyrone
I am in tears. We are standing on the East facing terrace of the National Capital Building. I am filled with a trembling I had not experienced. " I love you" had regressed me to an age before words. I was at once angered and in disbelief, thus producing confusion. I have always liked to be disoriented. The feeling of dizziness comforts me and always has. But this was more. It was too perfect. Cecil Beaton could not have set it better. I was on the set of An American in Paris. He was Gene Kelly and I was whoever she was. I needed an emotion and tears were picture perfect. The mist, the overly productive fountain, the night air, all of this was set into motion just to give me a reason to "ugly" cry.
I'm not sure where my next " I love you" will come from, but the first one was too much. Next time, I would like a faint stench of some sort and the plain setting of a chain restaurant. A laughing " I love you" over Ihop! That's what I want.
I will tell you what became of Tyrone on another post
AINT THAT THE TRUTH!
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Window Seat
I need for you to want me
I was thinking and discussing my past relationships with my SistaGurl Destine. I am often the one giving her the advice, so I rarely flip the script. Besides the fact she has the attention span of a gnat. But since I rarely enter into courtship, I needed someone to let me vent. She obliged and I had an epiphany,I am terrible at dating!
I thought I was a perfect date. I am full of wit and energy. The conversation will ebb and flow with hints of devilish flirtation. I think of a date with me like having a never-ending supply of your favorite bubbly refreshment. Its after that, its the third and fourth dates where I stumble.
It may be because I am often in very clandestine affairs.
Enter the Nigerian
He is a Napoleon sized charmer with a thick west African accent. He tends to giggle with a sense of aloofness, especially when discussing politics. He is a Republican. This is not going to work. However, on the third date,he says" You are my boyfriend, I don't care what you say!" I thought it was cute. I agreed and we stayed together for nearly a year.
I lived in a rooming house in D.C's Columbia Hgts neighborhood. I had the top floor street facing room. I pretended that it was a Parisian apartment. I hung posters and had tons of junk everywhere. And this is where we had our relationship.
He had children and lived in the suburbs with them. He divorced the mother a year earlier and he had just started to venture into the World of Men. He would always say "I don't see very many happy men that are Gay" I understood what he was saying. He meant he wanted to be happy and felt a great fear that he wouldn't experience the joys that he had with his heterosexual relationships. Milestones like Engagement,Marriage, and children all seemed like purely Male/Female relationship practices. he had not been exposed to HomoMatrimony or SGL Partners as Family heads. I decided I would love him enough to change his mind.
He did real estate work. appraisals and property inspection. We would go on long road trips to rural areas in Maryland, West Virginia, and Virginia. We listened to talk radio and country music ( his favorite). The only exception was Robin Thicke's " Lost Without You". Lawst Weeeth-ouT U. He would hold my hand and say in his curt little accent. I loved him.
He was obsessed with getting us a condo in the city. But I refused to give up my neighborhood. He accused me of not trying to compromise. I reminded him we were fine in my little room. I understood he wanted a new level to our relationship. So I focused on his other obsession. My becoming a property investigator. I had just bought a used cargo van from a family friend and started doing courier work. He paid for my gas and helped me a lot. I promised I would eventually take on Properties, but I was just getting used to driving again. I hated IT! But I loved the freedom.
We would check in on the road and see if we were near each other. And one day we were. We had never met for lunch ( We have several times since). I sat in my van waiting for him to arrive. When I saw his Sedan pull in I smiled at him, he nodded coldly at me. I jumped out my vehicle and sauntered over to his. He got out very briskly and walked right past me. When we sat down I asked if he was having a bad day. "No, In fact i am having a very productive day." We ordered our lunches and ate them silently. He whipped out his Gold Am ex and paid the bill. Then shot a look at me. "You could have paid for this if you began doing like I said and added some properties to your daily runs." I smiled and said Thank You, for Lunch.
I began to slowly withdraw from our relationship. One early summer night we sat down for an impromptu dinner on the banks of the C&O Canal. It was a full moon and we were particularly chatty. He asked me what I wanted to do for our anniversary. I said Montreal. He looked at me very sternly and said he wasn't ready for international travel. I didn't consider him having children as a part of this decision. I believed he was more afraid of taking our relationship out of my room. I felt it and I said so. He admitted that beyond having never done such an extravagant thing with any of his past lovers, he thought the idea was silly.He suggested for me to pick a nice hotel and we would just fuck and order room service. I mentioned that was basically what we did already.I called him a week later and broke it off. I could hear his sadness. I could hear him acknowledge his inability to be free. He said he would still buy me that condo, if he found a foreclosure in my neighborhood. I went to Montreal anyways. By Myself.
,AINT THAT THE TRUTH!
I was thinking and discussing my past relationships with my SistaGurl Destine. I am often the one giving her the advice, so I rarely flip the script. Besides the fact she has the attention span of a gnat. But since I rarely enter into courtship, I needed someone to let me vent. She obliged and I had an epiphany,I am terrible at dating!
I thought I was a perfect date. I am full of wit and energy. The conversation will ebb and flow with hints of devilish flirtation. I think of a date with me like having a never-ending supply of your favorite bubbly refreshment. Its after that, its the third and fourth dates where I stumble.
It may be because I am often in very clandestine affairs.
Enter the Nigerian
He is a Napoleon sized charmer with a thick west African accent. He tends to giggle with a sense of aloofness, especially when discussing politics. He is a Republican. This is not going to work. However, on the third date,he says" You are my boyfriend, I don't care what you say!" I thought it was cute. I agreed and we stayed together for nearly a year.
I lived in a rooming house in D.C's Columbia Hgts neighborhood. I had the top floor street facing room. I pretended that it was a Parisian apartment. I hung posters and had tons of junk everywhere. And this is where we had our relationship.
He had children and lived in the suburbs with them. He divorced the mother a year earlier and he had just started to venture into the World of Men. He would always say "I don't see very many happy men that are Gay" I understood what he was saying. He meant he wanted to be happy and felt a great fear that he wouldn't experience the joys that he had with his heterosexual relationships. Milestones like Engagement,Marriage, and children all seemed like purely Male/Female relationship practices. he had not been exposed to HomoMatrimony or SGL Partners as Family heads. I decided I would love him enough to change his mind.
He did real estate work. appraisals and property inspection. We would go on long road trips to rural areas in Maryland, West Virginia, and Virginia. We listened to talk radio and country music ( his favorite). The only exception was Robin Thicke's " Lost Without You". Lawst Weeeth-ouT U. He would hold my hand and say in his curt little accent. I loved him.
He was obsessed with getting us a condo in the city. But I refused to give up my neighborhood. He accused me of not trying to compromise. I reminded him we were fine in my little room. I understood he wanted a new level to our relationship. So I focused on his other obsession. My becoming a property investigator. I had just bought a used cargo van from a family friend and started doing courier work. He paid for my gas and helped me a lot. I promised I would eventually take on Properties, but I was just getting used to driving again. I hated IT! But I loved the freedom.
We would check in on the road and see if we were near each other. And one day we were. We had never met for lunch ( We have several times since). I sat in my van waiting for him to arrive. When I saw his Sedan pull in I smiled at him, he nodded coldly at me. I jumped out my vehicle and sauntered over to his. He got out very briskly and walked right past me. When we sat down I asked if he was having a bad day. "No, In fact i am having a very productive day." We ordered our lunches and ate them silently. He whipped out his Gold Am ex and paid the bill. Then shot a look at me. "You could have paid for this if you began doing like I said and added some properties to your daily runs." I smiled and said Thank You, for Lunch.
I began to slowly withdraw from our relationship. One early summer night we sat down for an impromptu dinner on the banks of the C&O Canal. It was a full moon and we were particularly chatty. He asked me what I wanted to do for our anniversary. I said Montreal. He looked at me very sternly and said he wasn't ready for international travel. I didn't consider him having children as a part of this decision. I believed he was more afraid of taking our relationship out of my room. I felt it and I said so. He admitted that beyond having never done such an extravagant thing with any of his past lovers, he thought the idea was silly.He suggested for me to pick a nice hotel and we would just fuck and order room service. I mentioned that was basically what we did already.I called him a week later and broke it off. I could hear his sadness. I could hear him acknowledge his inability to be free. He said he would still buy me that condo, if he found a foreclosure in my neighborhood. I went to Montreal anyways. By Myself.
,AINT THAT THE TRUTH!
Friday, March 26, 2010
This Aint HBO!
I have had an interesting romantic life. I have decided to share my stories of love and lust with the world. My failures and triumphs will hopefully pass the torch of romantic love to another SGL brother or sister. My first post in this series will deal with the present. I will try and cobble my wake to it through my forthcoming posts.
So I recently decided to stop being a wallflower and jump back in the game. A game, thats right there are objectives, rules, and winners. Therefore, there are losers. The great thing about it is you start a new game with every person that danes to join you. One of my first new game tactics was to post an ad on a dating site that made me more marketable. I had dealt with the more popular sites for Black men in search of other men ( for whatever interval of time they required). I often found that the list of suitors grew short fast.More often, they just weren't suitable game partners.
On this new site I was not an anomaly for my size and appearance but because of my sheer Blackness. It is interesting to note, that although my new site of choice is international, I rarely got a mention of my Blackness. Although, on the prior sites that were mostly aimed at Black American homos, I was constantly reminded of my Blackness (esp. my Darkness). It became so disenchanting. The complexion of a Black man to me is not a deterrent or an attraction! I have never understood the fascination. I look for bone structure, teeth, grooming, stuff that makes a person them not a category.
Anyways, I have been happily clicking and chatting meeting men from all over the world! I have a particularly strong following in Pacific Mexico. I have to note that I have always been fascinated with this region. I plan to have a house full of houseboys in Cabo some day!I, however, met my most consistent suitors in the Atlanta Metro area. I guess Internet dating be damned ppl still aren't romantic enough for an international fling.
I have always dreamed of having a romantic partner on the other side of the globe. Rendezvous in Marseilles and Amsterdam, planned twice a year or more if possible. I guess royalty really don't see love in the same way as sheeple!
Concurrently I have been trying to meet men the old fashioned way! In person! Its so much easier when you are affable and well mannered. My protocol coach when I was a child (aka Grandma) would always tell me "People are funny baby, just deal with them as much as you can. And say No thank you, when you have had enough" (RIP GMa)
I must say, I am very taken by a young man right now. He is tall, dark, and handsome. And he is very clear about his royal status. Mainly, he seems to hold the same tenet I have for possible suitors: Keep it Positive! We are always wishing each other the best and hoping for great things!It is the manifesting of positive energy that balances the negativity in our daily lives. Never choose a lover that takes more of you than they want to replace. Like Lauryn said " Who I got to be to get some Reciprocity" Up in this MuthafuckA! It is so far so good, Stay Tuned!
AIN'T THAT THE TRUTH!
So I recently decided to stop being a wallflower and jump back in the game. A game, thats right there are objectives, rules, and winners. Therefore, there are losers. The great thing about it is you start a new game with every person that danes to join you. One of my first new game tactics was to post an ad on a dating site that made me more marketable. I had dealt with the more popular sites for Black men in search of other men ( for whatever interval of time they required). I often found that the list of suitors grew short fast.More often, they just weren't suitable game partners.
On this new site I was not an anomaly for my size and appearance but because of my sheer Blackness. It is interesting to note, that although my new site of choice is international, I rarely got a mention of my Blackness. Although, on the prior sites that were mostly aimed at Black American homos, I was constantly reminded of my Blackness (esp. my Darkness). It became so disenchanting. The complexion of a Black man to me is not a deterrent or an attraction! I have never understood the fascination. I look for bone structure, teeth, grooming, stuff that makes a person them not a category.
Anyways, I have been happily clicking and chatting meeting men from all over the world! I have a particularly strong following in Pacific Mexico. I have to note that I have always been fascinated with this region. I plan to have a house full of houseboys in Cabo some day!I, however, met my most consistent suitors in the Atlanta Metro area. I guess Internet dating be damned ppl still aren't romantic enough for an international fling.
I have always dreamed of having a romantic partner on the other side of the globe. Rendezvous in Marseilles and Amsterdam, planned twice a year or more if possible. I guess royalty really don't see love in the same way as sheeple!
Concurrently I have been trying to meet men the old fashioned way! In person! Its so much easier when you are affable and well mannered. My protocol coach when I was a child (aka Grandma) would always tell me "People are funny baby, just deal with them as much as you can. And say No thank you, when you have had enough" (RIP GMa)
I must say, I am very taken by a young man right now. He is tall, dark, and handsome. And he is very clear about his royal status. Mainly, he seems to hold the same tenet I have for possible suitors: Keep it Positive! We are always wishing each other the best and hoping for great things!It is the manifesting of positive energy that balances the negativity in our daily lives. Never choose a lover that takes more of you than they want to replace. Like Lauryn said " Who I got to be to get some Reciprocity" Up in this MuthafuckA! It is so far so good, Stay Tuned!
AIN'T THAT THE TRUTH!
Monday, March 22, 2010
ATL is the Armegeddon
I have been in ATL for over six months. This town is so many things... Old and historical, New and Shiny, Artsy and Non Conformist, and Stepford Wifeish. The games these people play are old ones covered in politically correct jargon. Needless to say the Prince had his armor tested.
I worked for the majority of my time here as a Host at an upscale casual sports themed restaurant. Hosting is a suitable position for royalty. Hospitality is the base of a proper kingdom. Atlanta is currently trying to change its image of Sodom and Gomorraha into a Babylon of sorts. Hospitality being the base of the economic engine of this Temple of Titans. They tower over the skyline like giant Cyclops.
The Cyclops is a greek mytholigical figure that were the builders of the weapons of the Gods. They were known for their skill and abruptness of emotion. Sounds like a Corporation to me. Well they live here! CNN, Coca Cola, and TBS are the Cyclops of our American Pantheon. If you doubt their skill and their abruptness of emotion as an entity look that up for yourself!
I digress. At this den of temperance in an otherwise prohibitionless town I greeted and escorted guests to their seats. My main job was to create the first impression of the establishment. The human interaction with an otherwise inhumane business that glasses bottled concoctions and serves roast beasts. Oh the trials of being a Who in Whoville with a weighty crown in my sack.
A few months ago we switched management. I knew I was in for trouble. However, my early education in survivalism, defenses against wizardry, and pro active communications, prepared me for the battles I knew were ahead. I must admit, these guys are good!
Needless to say.I will be keeping you abreast on my trevails as I pursue my first council with the federal anti-discriminatory legal world! EEOC here I come!
I worked for the majority of my time here as a Host at an upscale casual sports themed restaurant. Hosting is a suitable position for royalty. Hospitality is the base of a proper kingdom. Atlanta is currently trying to change its image of Sodom and Gomorraha into a Babylon of sorts. Hospitality being the base of the economic engine of this Temple of Titans. They tower over the skyline like giant Cyclops.
The Cyclops is a greek mytholigical figure that were the builders of the weapons of the Gods. They were known for their skill and abruptness of emotion. Sounds like a Corporation to me. Well they live here! CNN, Coca Cola, and TBS are the Cyclops of our American Pantheon. If you doubt their skill and their abruptness of emotion as an entity look that up for yourself!
I digress. At this den of temperance in an otherwise prohibitionless town I greeted and escorted guests to their seats. My main job was to create the first impression of the establishment. The human interaction with an otherwise inhumane business that glasses bottled concoctions and serves roast beasts. Oh the trials of being a Who in Whoville with a weighty crown in my sack.
A few months ago we switched management. I knew I was in for trouble. However, my early education in survivalism, defenses against wizardry, and pro active communications, prepared me for the battles I knew were ahead. I must admit, these guys are good!
Needless to say.I will be keeping you abreast on my trevails as I pursue my first council with the federal anti-discriminatory legal world! EEOC here I come!
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