To All The Girls I Loved Before…

Five abortions, three miscarriages, a few broken hearts and countless women whose names are unaccounted for I watched walk to their cars under the cover of night was the sum of my manhood…until I decided to change. Folks who knew me as a monster can’t understand how I’ve become the man I am today. The truth is, I’ve always been who I was, and I just had a healthy appetite for women simultaneously. There are folks that will point to my wife as the reason for my change; that’s partly true, but I also had grown tired of my lifestyle.

For most of my adult life I’ve kept women filed away in separate categories in my head, separated by what they did, how well they did it, what days they could do it, if they had boyfriends, kids, jobs, lived alone, lived with him, bi-curious, proximity to me and most important, if they had ever mentioned wanting to be in a relationship with me. It didn’t matter if I was single or attached, living with my girlfriend or a bachelor, all of this was locked away in my mind, ready for use at any time of the day.

My neighbor Mike lived vicariously through me, he would sit on his porch at the height of summer or dead of winter as women would come and go (literally & figuratively) from the afternoon to the middle of the night and on the rare occasion, the next morning. I couldn’t see a consequence to the way I was living, if you’d ask me, I was doing them a service. When I look back at it, I caused far more hurt than any thrill gained after a few drinks and couple orgasms, but that didn’t matter at the time.

We were all consenting adults and each of us knew what we were getting into at the time and the expectations were minimal. Well…except for those I called my girlfriend and pledged to love. I lied, cheated, hurt and loved them at the same time, but I wasn’t ready to be in a relationship, though I was. There was vulnerability in me that certain women were able to reach and for their accomplishment, I sentenced them to be my woman. Had they known the pain to come from that distinction, I’m sure they would’ve ran, but they, like the others, were blinded by my charm, my smile and ultimately, the way I touched them in places they didn’t know existed.

I learned a long time ago that I had a gift; people gravitated to me, there was something about my personality that drew people, men and women to me. For the fellas it was good look to be my homie, for women, the same, not to mention rumors spread in high school and college that I was a little guy, but a big guy at the same time. At some point or another, I would somehow talk nearly all of my female friends naked, 90% of the time against my best efforts, but it was a pattern that continued for a long time.

After a while, I had enough friends and just collected women’s panties (figuratively), I’m not sure what they wanted from me, I wasn’t taking the time to ask. Hopes, dreams, aspirations and that other shit didn’t matter, I just cared if you were sucking and fucking, within a two-week window. Unlike many men, there was no one woman that turned me into what I was; I did it because I could. I would always tell women that I could only do what you allow and many of them would allow me to keep extending the boundaries until there were no limits.

I’m still amazed at how quickly a woman erases her line in the sand once you make her cum a few times in a night. I’ve known women to lie to their husbands, leave their kids at the sitter, have threesomes with their best friends, my best friends, people they didn’t know, perform for my cameras, cross state lines, journey to the edge of night and never ask for so much as a promise that I would never hurt them. Maybe I just have a trusting face…

These women would compromise the standards they set for themselves during our first conversations. I heard over and over again how this one was ready for a real relationship or that one needed someone that gave as much as she did. They would say these things, but I never gave much more than a few inches of dick and a nap on my couch, here and there good liquor and buffalo wings were consumed, but for the most part the most emotion they felt from me was watching them walk to the car from my porch.

In between I spent a few thousand dollars on abortions, caught tears after miscarriages and endured being called a “motherfucker” repeatedly. I made plenty of mistakes, especially after a half bottle of Level and running out of condoms, so I took it all as one to grow on. However, I wasn’t showing my growth and duplicated my mistakes, to the point where I thought I had a problem and sought help. That shit didn’t work! I had sex immediately after my first session and settled back into the life I chose.

I rotated women in and out of my crib, in and out of my life, and in and out of bars and motels until I said enough is enough. It sounds like a scene out of a movie, but I truly woke up one day and said I didn’t want to live this way anymore. My pledge for change happened to coincide with a woman who fit none of the paragraphs above walking back into my life. I was seeing up to six women a week when I first began talking with the woman who would become my wife and thisfast they were out of my life.

Well, maybe not that fast, but I started to ease them out of the way as she and I grew closer. I think my body sent me the first message, I felt like I was breaking down and it was directly from the way I was living. I was consuming liquor like women, sleeping less than four hours a night, working hard, playing harder and I just couldn’t keep it up any longer. The pain I felt, the fatigue I lived was more than enough to for me to cease the bullshit. But she, she would’ve made me stop traffic so she could tie her shoe on the sidewalk, she was reason enough for me to say goodbye to a life I don’t remember saying hello to.

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Tale of the Tuesday Nothing

Dreamed of you this morning,
Then came the dawn and ,
I thought that you were here with me

Marvin never lied! I tossed and turned through the night, most likely because you were featured in my dreams. I hadn’t thought about you in months, but there you were, begging me to do all of the freaky things I taught you to love. Over the course of five years I imagine I taught you a little about pain, while you learned so little about me. Regardless of what you expected of me, I was only willing to give you what I thought you deserved.

In those five years that alternated between good sex, a sounding board, a movie date, a few drinks, more sex and ultimately an abortion. How the moments we had amounted to years I’ll never understand, especially since initially I had not a thought about you, but you pushed your way into my life and I pushed myself deeper inside of you. It was all simple when we started; I was new in town, you lived close enough to my job, favorite watering hole and the highway, so that was more than enough to take your number and an invitation to drop by.

The vodka I’d been drinking most of that day cut the small talk in half and led directly to your bedroom. When we emerged a couple hours later I’m not sure you knew what you had gotten yourself into. It seems that somewhere between your stoop and those three flights up to your apartment you had gotten into your mind that I was the ideal guy for you to be in a relationship with, despite numerous admissions that I could never be in a relationship with a woman with a child. I’m far too selfish to have time I want restricted to weekends with her dad, summers Down South or creeping over when she’s asleep, so I wanted to keep up casual.

You had other plans and somehow we had plans every Sunday and Tuesday night, plus we spent Saturday texting when you were at your part-time job and I guess it seemed like a relationship to you. I guess you ignored the fact that I pretty much had two girlfriends at the time or it simply didn’t matter. Many things didn’t matter, especially after Happy Hour one night when you told me that you really needed to see me and I was so drunk that I disregarded the fact that your daughter was home and dropped by for a quickie while she was in the tub. I was so wasted and you were moving so quickly that we didn’t use a condom and the results were positive two months later. Well, negative, but positive on a pregnancy test. You didn’t want another child and I don’t want kids at all, so I delivered $465 to your place and we decided that we should stop seeing one another.

In the next six months I broke up with one girlfriend, moved in with the other and you started seeing someone that seemingly wanted the same things you did. You seemed happy and I dodged a bullet, so all’s well that ends well, or so we thought. Those Saturdays at work got lonely for you and the texts restarted and for the next year we communicated as friends, as I gave you advice on everything from school to ironically, your relationship. It was all good until you started showing up at the bar where I hung on Tuesday and we started catching a movie afterwards or watching football on Sunday while eating pizza and wings or catching a matinee.

Funny, we were buddies and it seemed like nothing more. You broke up with one guy, starting seeing another, my girl thought the rainbow was enough and moved out, leaving me back in those streets. And still, we hung out twice a week, sometimes more because your little girl started playing softball at the park down the street from my place. It was still all good between us…until November 4, 2008. Somewhere between the excitement of history being made and a bottle of vodka, you ended up being late for your date with your man and naked on my couch. You broke up with him within days and wanted nothing more from me than to continue hanging on Tuesday and Sunday and maybe a few other days when she was at softball practice or with her dad.

Here we were again, drinking and having sex, acting like we’re “just friends” and every two weeks I had to remind you that I was never going to be in a relationship with you. You claimed to understand, but with each drink or each orgasm, you felt the need to ask me again. It seemed like we were living the same Tuesday each week, a few glasses of wine, a movie, a kiss, a whatever, and then a question. Then Sundays would yield the same thing, so I busied myself to avoid the conversation. But just as sure as Tuesday was on the calendar every week, there you were and I couldn’t rid myself of you, maybe it was the guilt of the abortion, maybe the sex was too good, nah it was the guilt.

You tried to insinuate yourself into different aspects of my life and that’s when I knew you went too far, so I started finding ways to occupy my Tuesdays until you go the message. I had gotten the hint when I realized you were closing in on 30 and although I had started to slow down, I was not going to creep to a crawl with you. No pain, no tears, no returned texts or calls, not even a kiss goodbye, I simply told you that this Tuesday thing was nothing. I hadn’t had a thought of you until you texted me three nights ago and showed up in my dream this morning, but there’s no room in my schedule for you anymore…

In Time You Won’t Remember Me…

In time you won’t remember me, I’ll be an afterthought, a what’s his name, the guy you used to be with. I won’t even be the sorry muthafucka who did you wrong anymore. I’ll be a figment of your imagination, a déjà vu when you go to our favorite restaurant or watch a movie we loved. I won’t be the guy who stole so many moments out of your life and exchanged them for pain. I won’t be who I’ve come to be in your eyes anymore. My face won’t register; my name won’t ring a bell. You’ll forget the lies, you’ll get past the hurt, you’ll move out of that apartment I rented for you in hell.

Those tears will dry, your strength will return. You’ll forget the nights you screamed in ecstasy, you’ll forget the nights you screamed in anger. All of those lonely nights will seem a lifetime away, as you live your life today. And those scattered pictures I found of the smiles we left behind showing the way we were on those six days we were in love will be ripped, burned or discarded. As are the memories of the days we made love and the nights I left you brokenhearted. Your womb will heal, your heart will mend and in time you won’t remember me, but I won’t forget you…

Monologue of a Messed-Up Man

I can’t say sorry enough for what I’ve done and I’ve changed too many times to count…without changing at all, but just give me a minute to explain and I’ll be out of your life for good. You see, I was trying to be the man you needed me to be, but couldn’t be the man I wanted to be at the same time. So, the times I had to choose between your needs and my wants, I chose me every time. Because that’s the type of selfish son-of-a-bitch I am.

Yeah you felt bad and I felt nothing and we felt like it would all correct itself in due time or I would say sorry and change (again) for more than a few days this time and really care for your heart like I promised to on that night we held hands and I looked into your eyes and lied to you. Yes, I admit it, I lied. Not about loving you or protecting your heart. But I lied about putting you first always, because I didn’t realize at the time it would be so much work. Damn, was it my job to carry a list of your insecurities in my wallet at all times?

Managing your esteem issues became more work than my job and our relationship became less fun than it already was. So I spent more time running the streets than walking towards forever with you. You were suspicious from the first time I was out of your sight, but you probably pushed me into the beds of other women or a three-hour short stay, because I needed an escape for you, without breaking up with you. At least that’s what I convinced myself.

Years later you’re still trying to find who these women are or the reasons they were, steady picking through my faults and still neglecting your issues. See how I make this your fault? Just like the many fights that gave me an opening to spend hundreds of dollars at the strip club before spending $45  at the first place that looked like it had clean sheets so I could spend time with the first woman that answered my “Are you sleep?” text. But I refused to spend time or a dime on you, because I was unhappy, but not unhappy enough to leave. I wanted you to do the dirty work for me, but you believed in me when I didn’t give a damn about us and forgot that I actually loved you.

Sure, I loved you. I don’t know how or why. The reasons I loved you weren’t tangible, they had to be unearthed and I didn’t possess the tools to dig them up at the time. Wait, maybe I did, but didn’t feel like you were worth it. At least not to me. So after years of the lies and broken promises of change, I moved on and left you standing still picking up the pieces and wiping away tears to become a bitter version of the sweet you I used to know.

I caused that and now I’m saying sorry one more time, but we stopped counting those years ago, long after we stopped trying to determine why we were still together. There was no answer then and no answer now, just the memories of the lies and the broken promises and a shadow of what used to be you and me better known as us to those who didn’t know any better. I’m not trying to peel away your scabs, I just wanted to finally close the door on what was our relationship and finally tell you the truth…I’m sorry.

The Man Seat

I’m willing to wager a dollar to a dime that 50% of all relationships inched thisclose towards dissolving over the past three days. No, they aren’t breaking up because he went out with his friends while she entertained the family or she invited her stealing ass cousin Michael after he told her not to and now her tennis bracelet is missing. Nope, they are on the verge of breaking up because she absolutely lost her mind the moment everything within a 75 mile radius went on sale!

That’s right, Black Friday and the subsequent days do as much damage as the low standard having chick he meets in a bar or the brother that listens and talks to her, but it’s been unchecked for years now. Well I’m pulling the covers back on that lie, because we need to discuss this plague in our relationships. Fellas all over the country were subjected to the torture of dragging through the mall as she whizzes through store after store leaving you in her dust, exchanging looks of pity from the other unfortunate men on the way to their own execution.

I don’t understand why women take so long to shop. Seriously, do you have to look at every rack in the store…twice? Leaving us poor saps staring into space, wondering around a store that offers not a thing for us. I can understand spending 25 minutes in Victoria’s Secret, we’re both making use of anything purchased in there, but Forever 21? It’s torture, pure hell! Especially when we’re carrying bags and can’t even find a man seat.

Yes, the man seat, the answer to every man’s shopping experience. I truly believe stores should add seating for the guys who have the misfortune of spending quality time in the mall. Each of these bug stores should offer 5-7 seats in a designated area for the fellas, fully equipped with comfy seats and a flat screen TV. I’m not asking for a 50’, but a little 27” will do. Hell, throw in those massage chairs they have placed all over the mall, I’d pay a few bucks to get the kinks worked out while she spends an arm and a leg to barely keep her arms and legs covered.

I looked in the eyes of dozens of men over the weekend and they all had the same look…”Help me!” as they sat on mannequin stands, window ledges, played musical chairs for the limited seats in certain stores and impatiently looked at their watches, Facebook, Twitter, let the kids run wild and their significant others smiled and patiently looked for the perfect shirt to match two pairs of new shoes they have yet to purchase. Ladies, you’re really oblivious to our discomfort while shopping, until we say something like, “The game is on” and that’s when you know it’s time to bust a move.

I’m not even gonna talk about shoe shopping, that’s a whole other adventure, something much darker. So for everyone out this holiday season spending, I’ll be the guy walking around with the folding chair, tweeting my shopping adventures with her…

About Last Night

 

Last night I touched a dream wide awake and it shook me to my core

Unexpected but unmatched in my memory, an indelible smile left on my visage

Last night felt like the night I’ve waited my entire life for

Knowing we needed to stop, but in my mind, we’ve gotten started…finish

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Last night I tasted heaven and thanked God for every ounce of your being

Then I prayed for your return with an unbound heart

Last night, you were the only star worth seeing

Even if the moon was just right or the heavens decided to part

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Last night I was hardened by the softness of your skin

But my hardness dulled by your softness within

Last night is something I want to do every now and again

You know, like right now and again and again and again

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Last night I wished forever and saw it in your eyes

Felt it in your kiss and in your heart saw the reason

Last night I wanted to spend a lifetime between your thighs

Because no one dreams of making it to heaven and leaving 

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Last night my dream left me with a warning

And thinking about the wrongs that feel so right

Last night had me writing poetry at 5:30 in the morning

About last night…

As Seen on TV

Everything you see on TV is not for you to try...

Some people should not be allowed to watch television. Seriously. Many of you are too easily consumed by what you see on the idiot box and I’m the wrong person to leave responsible with certain information. For instance, a few years back there was a young lady that after watching an episode of “Sex and the City” thought it was a good idea to call me to ask to cum on her face because it was good for the skin.

Once upon a time Sunday was reserved for the strip club. I would eat buffalo wings, drink vodka and then meet the rest of my crew and hold court in our private booth. However, on this particular Sunday we decided not to roll, so I was available when she called. After laughing hysterically for a few minutes, the vodka kicked in and I agreed to participate in her little experiment. Within five minutes my doorbell was ringing and thirty seconds later she was on her knees working to get the moisturizing cream to exfoliate.

This was not the first time she had found herself in this position, as the previous two years held plenty of late-night encounters between the two of us when horniness took over the night. However she was on a mission this time, I doubt she stopped at the two stop signs that separated our homes and seemed intent on getting my man milk out of me even faster. There was no hello, no small talk, just her working me out of my underwear and into her mouth as she rooted for a premature ejaculation.

Well…five hours of vodka prevented that and for the next 35 minutes she used her hands, tried relaxing her jaws, sat in a chair, used my hand and finally it came, well I came. She was creeped out by the prospect, but took it in the face like a champ. Right on her cheek! I’m not sure if I was a little backed up or just a little excited, but it was a helluva load that she was able to rub in and work around most of her face.

The entire time I’m asking myself, “Does she know she has to have this done every day to actually work?” I’m not sure she really understood that it was a process that would take multiple applications to gauge if it was working or if she thought I had super sperm and would clear her skin magically overnight. Either way, the next night when I texted for her nightly facial (pun intended), she mentioned something about Proactiv and I mentioned something about her being stupid and we never saw each other again. She didn’t act too crazy when I told her that I wasn’t kicking it with her anymore, because of the matter of a photo or two of her little experiment…wonder if she’ll read this and notice the picture?

Two if by Sea

This is my communiqué to the blushing bride-to-be…

Dear Ms. Lady-Girl,

First, I’d like to congratulate you on your recent engagement and wish you luck with your marriage. I am pleased that you have found someone with whom you’re willing to spend the rest of forever and desire that you guys make it that long. However, there are a few things that I wanted to share with you that you wouldn’t allow me to say when we spoke.

When I saw the pictures of your fiancé proposing to you on Facebook I was genuinely excited for you and loved the expressions on your face as the pictures provided a replay of his asking of your hand in marriage. When you decided to e-mail me the entire assortment of pictures from that evening, I was still cool, because I figured you just wanted to share. Then you called to share the news with me and though I thought that was a bit much, I understood that you’re extremely happy at this time and you just wanted folks to share in your joy.

But the contents of that call left a sour taste in my tummy and really changed my opinion about you. Once the small talk subsided, you dove right in and your exuberance was apparent, also were the intentions of your call. You didn’t call to share; you called to gloat, which I found to be funny and disturbing. The call you made should’ve been reserved for those bitter chicks you associate with or someone who actually gives a @#$%, not the one they refer to as Teef. Even when you said that you had found your happiness and I was still on my way to being a lonely old man I let you get your rocks off, because I’m a nice guy like that.

No more Mr. Nice Guy…

The truth is, the three weeks we were kicking it were cool and in fact, I had a good time reconnecting with you and getting to know you better. But like I told you in our third conversation, we were two ships sailing in opposite directions, you were looking to fall in love and marry, I was reconfiguring the concept of a relationship and emotionally unavailable at the time to provide whatever it was you were looking for. But, we enjoyed each other’s company and spent a significant amount of time together.

I admit we fell victim to horny once or twice; vodka, circumstance and opportunity tends to make that happen occasionally, but even when I said we’d gone too far, you kept pushing for me to make you the lady in my life. I actually considered it during timeout of a Lakers game, but then Kobe hit a jump shot and the fleeting thought became “what was I thinking about again”?

The reality of the matter was and maybe is I could never be the man for you, because the man you need in your life needs prescription writing capabilities, because I believe you’re mentally unstable. During those three weeks, I started to notice erratic behavior and observe your actions to be beyond eccentric and bordering on psychosis. So I decided to step off before your still waters got too deep and wished you nothing but the best and hoped that in your journey you would discover what was happening in your head and seek the answers that would help you.

Our ships had set sail and my compass navigated me towards self-actualization, while yours led you into the arms of a man that has decided to love you for who you are forever and a day. I applaud the two of you, but calling me a year after we shared 19 days to put your engagement ring in my face, is not cool and pretty much confirms my thoughts of the delusional waters you tend to cruise in from time to time. To answer your supposition, yes I’m still alone, but far from lonely, but I know my ship is coming in one day. So, the next time you decide you have something you would like to say to me, put a message in a bottle baby…

I Wish I Never Met Her at All

It was the eyes. No, it was the circumstance. Nah, it was those damn eyes. That’s all I heard about until I met you. They told me the new girl was pretty, but they all spoke of her were her eyes. So when we were finally introduced, all I could do is stare into those green eyes. Yeah, I was caught up in your eyes as well, but pretty soon became totally consumed by you, until you dropped the bomb on me and told me that you were damn near married with a kid. I stepped off, all interest left my body, and every thought of you left my mind.

But it’s funny what time and space does to a man, each time I saw you that interest meter climbed a little and the flirting started, a little on my end, a lot on yours. More from me, those eyes from you and then the texting started. Turns out your happily ever after had become a daily disaster and I represented an escape for a few moments a day to clear your mind. Yeah, we flirted despite the danger and got closer in spite of the restrictions, but thought we were playing it cool. Everyone around us could see what was going to happen even though we denied there was anything between us, I guess they saw the truth between the lies we told ourselves, because a trip to the movies and a few shots of vodka led to us rolling around on the floor naked.

Damn, maybe I skipped a few months…

I was a cheater, turns out that you were too and your man wasn’t handling his business at home, nor in your bedroom, so you sought me for counsel. He had already moved out and you moved on, while my girlfriend held on and I just played it loose. Being six inches from your eyes after six shots of vodka made me wonder what your lips would feel like against mine, so I tested them and tasted you. Your daily disasters became my news feed and I became more than your escape, I started to appear to be your destination. But, someone had planted their flag for me already and you had baggage that I wasn’t equipped to deal live with, but that didn’t stop Friday afternoons from being the perfect opportunities to catch matinees, have drinks or see each other naked.

Those eyes…

They told me then that you wanted more and would get it by any means, but calling to tell me you were pregnant two weeks later wasn’t what I anticipated, just wasn’t what I expected you to say two days after Christmas. Before my mind could even journey to the natural thoughts of a man when he receives this call, you had volunteered an abortion and I didn’t object, just continued with my day. So, I took a few step back from your eyes, maybe because I thought they lied to me or maybe because I felt you wanted more than I would ever give you. However, we were back at our favorite seats in the theater, back on those bar stools, you were back in my bed, I was back in your life and we were back at square one. Except it was different this time, I was single, you were single, but you wanted it all. Nah, I wasn’t trying to give anyone that much of me, but we kept flirting with that danger. We pushed and pulled, bumped and grind, butted heads until you drew your line in the sand after another pregnancy scare.

Turns out that you were looking to be loved all of the time, that you wanted to be married, you wanted more kids. I suppose that wasn’t high on our list of topics during our coversations or I simply ignored your overtures. Because you found love in Jamaica and gave me an opportunity to tell you that I loved you and wanted you to be mine, but I didn’t. Wait, I did. I wanted you, I didn’t want you as a mother and attached to your baby father, I wanted what we had all of the time, so I had no problem telling you to follow what made you happy. Turns out what made you happy one last time was frolicking through my apartment hours before the flight that carried you to your waiting husband.

And now you’re his misses with a son that has no resemblance to me at all, regardless of what people thought and a time frame that certainly fit. I don’t think about you much anymore, but when I hear from you, the thoughts of your eyes reappear and I wish I never met you at all…

My Adventures with Her: I Got a Story to Tell

Women, can’t live with ‘em, can’t do the alternative, so we deal with them and all of their crazy habits, wants, needs, desires, obsessions, jealousies, insecurities and foolishness. Day in and day out men are subjected to the whims of women without hesitation in many cases, but with frustration in most. Lord knows I’ve had my share of adventures, good, bad, and X-rated, but I’ve lived to tell the stories and that’s what I plan to do. My Adventures with Her” was created for man to tell his side of the story, for every night that we said nothing was on our minds or we had no opinion about that dress you wore when we introduced you to our moms, this is where our voices will be heard.

We’ve assembled a diverse team of writers to share their experiences and create a forum for adult discussion about relationships with an edge of testosterone and a touch of estrogen (you’ll see soon). Our aim is not to be disrespectful, but be real and no we’re not here to dump on Black women or any other type of women, we just want to relate some of the things we’ve been through on our quests for love, happiness and all that other shit. So sit back, strap on your seat belt, because this promises to be a wild ride. I present, My Adventures with Her…