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.

Shadows of a Memory

I’ve been going back and forth in my head on whether or not to wish you a “Happy Birthday”, because these days, I’m unsure of where that conversation can lead. There have been so many changes with me, with you, with us, that sometimes it’s best to just let be what they may…even though it hurts.

I’ve known you for as long as I could remember. I look in my baby book at some of my first birthday parties and there you are, standing next to me with those big, beautiful brown eyes. You would occupy the space next to me for most of our life; at times as my friend, my girlfriend, sister, an ex and then whatever we became before it all fell apart. I have no clue where we stand now, because the issues you’re dealing with make it impossible for me to have a steady role in your life.

I’ve loved you for as long as I could remember. We’ve endured what causes most friendships to disintegrate, time. We’ve grown up together, grown apart, came back to one another and faced the ugly truth of life time and time again, but nothing we learned prepared us for the last nine or ten years. The last time we attempted a relationship we were simply no good for one another; I was in the middle of another situation and you had a girlfriend, but there we were sneaking off to see one another like we met on BlackPlanet. A few months of that and we were back in the groove of being brother and sister, supportive of the moves the other was making in life.

I looked for you for as long as I could remember. Then I got a phone call that no one had seen or heard from you for days, that you had run off after acting out violently to your family, they said you appeared possessed. The search went on for weeks and ultimately led to Florida, where you had fled everyone who loved you, everyone who could possibly help. The diagnosis was bipolar disorder; the reality was everything had changed. The days, weeks, months and years that passed before you reached out to me created a distance that had never existed between the two of us. A distance we tried to diminish at first, but your episodes became more frequent and your refusal of medication or psychotherapy didn’t sit well with me.

I’ve been your friend for as long as I could remember. I tried to maintain a friendship with you from the distance we maintained, but you didn’t make it easy, lashing out at me frequently, alternately loving me and hating me in the same breath, cursing me, then praising me, wanting to marry me, but telling me you secretly aborted my child the next. Oftentimes I would cry after our interactions, appealing to God, wishing on everything that you would miraculously get better by the next time we spoke.

And then days, weeks, and months, sometimes years would go by before we spoke again. During these intermissions you would be in jail, in mental hospitals, hustling bus fare back to Jersey and then escaping once again to Florida. At times, it would be like having my old friend back, but then you were someone I didn’t know, but I talked to the two yous like I loved them both equally, yet differently. And then days, weeks, months, and sometimes years would go by before we spoke again. Next I would receive long, incoherent e-mails from you about nothing; I couldn’t decipher what you were trying to tell me. The only thing that I could grasp was that you didn’t have my phone number anymore and I had moved from where you knew me to live last.

Yes, I had moved on, convinced that I couldn’t save you or carry the burden of your pain anymore. Besides, you didn’t think you had a problem, you had weed to smoke and sunshine to live in. Remember you told me that was all you needed in life? Against my better judgment I gave you my new phone number and you would call me practically every night at 2am, some nights lucid, others off on tangents I couldn’t follow. And then days, weeks, and months, sometimes years would go by before we spoke again.

Remember we said if we weren’t married by 30, we would marry each other? Yeah, I know you do, because right around our 30th birthdays you started calling and asking when we were getting married. For the first time in a long time we had a real conversation; I told you that I couldn’t marry you because what we wanted out of life didn’t match anymore. Seven years earlier you received a M.A. degree in Psychology and I was starting my career in Higher Education, but during those conversations you were content with living off of $266 a month from Social Security. Add to that you were still going in and out of jail, in and out of the hospital and in and out of my life.

I know I didn’t say what you wanted to hear because days, weeks, and months, sometimes years went by before I heard from you again; this time, you just wanted to move in with me and when I refused, I was on the wrong end of your wrath. You couldn’t process why I couldn’t have you in my home, why your instability wasn’t welcomed at my door, why I stopped sending you money as I had done since we were in college. I could no longer enable you, I couldn’t be accessory to the crimes you committed against yourself.

Somehow you found your way back to Jersey and when I saw you for the first time in many years, the light was gone from your eyes, the years away had taken their toll on you and our conversation was pedestrian at best. I cried in the car, cried when I got home, cried when you call to curse me out for not taking you with me. I didn’t know what to do with you anymore and neither did your family, who were tired of dealing with your assaults, physical and verbal, so you were headed back to Florida. Once again days, weeks, and months, sometimes years passed before you called to tell me that you were pregnant by some guy you met in jail and he was back in while you were carrying his child.

I didn’t know what to think, for thirteen years all you thought of was having a child, now here was your chance. The first thing that came to my mind was that you were in no position to have a child, but you didn’t want to hear any of that and for the first time in a long time, you seemed like your old self. Right up until the end of your pregnancy when wild tales of marriage to Jay-Z, Lyfe Jennings and Lil’ Wayne began and your quest to marry me reignited; I could be your physical husband, God said it was OK, that’s what you would tell me. Your son was born and everyone seemed happy, but I was concerned, because less than two weeks later you were gone again and he was gone.

I’ve loved you as long as I’ve known you. I’ve been by your side as you faced criticism from your family and doubted yourself. I’ve dealt with your emotions far before a doctor put a name to it, I’ve even endured pain I didn’t deserve, but I can’t do this anymore. Your latest overtures to me have been troubling and I have a wife to protect now, so I can no longer be for you whatever it was I have been in your eyes. It hurts, but we let go of one another a long time ago and simply loved shadows of a memory, something I can no longer do.

I’m Not Your Daddy, I Was Your Man

Ya Pop’s owes me a favor, I basically raised ya

Our relationship was never going to work. You needed far more than I was capable of giving you at the time. I had to be your man, your friend, your mentor, your counselor and your father. The other roles I had no issue with, but your Daddy issues were beyond my scope and I disappointed you time and time again.

I’m sorry.

Once you abandoned your hope of being Daddy’s little girl, you went out into the world on your own and landed in my life, in my apartment, in my bed. I was forced to teach you things about life that he should have when you were much younger; I was helping to build your esteem while fucking other women, how twisted was that? Your dad was supposed to warn you about guys like
me, instead, a guy like me was advising you on the pitfalls of life.

Between the fighting and the fucking I taught you how to cook, about building your credit,put stamps in your passport, took you out of sneakers and kept you in matching bra and panties. I read you Shakespeare before bed and held you during thunderstorms, but I turned our dreams into nightmares… I became your beautiful boogieman.

I spent so much time being everything to you that I had nothing for myself and you couldn’t give me what I needed, so I spent more time at work, more time in the bars and more time at the Red Roof Inn. I was running from the responsibility of being your boyfriend and your father as we contemplated having children together. I was looking for the release a woman offers a man, but couldn’t trust you were able to provide that for me.

I was wrong, I know this now, knew it then.

You were much stronger than most women I knew, you had to be, you were left to fend for yourself from a young age. Not to mention, I placed a thousand pounds of stress on your shoulders with my bullshit and you carried it until it broke your back. Somehow, you’ve put the failures of your father and a man you thought you loved behind you and you’re better than ever,
blossomed into a beautiful woman despite how ugly life has been to you. I know I’ve played a part, both negatively and positively, in your development and despite all I put you through we remain friends.

It’s amazing you’ve found it in your heart to maintain a relationship with someone who’s caused so much grief in your life and left you alone in a jungle with lions like me marking you as prey; then again, you’ve managed to forgive my hurt and have grown from it. I guess you remembered more of what I taught you about life than what I lied to you about concerning love.

The Defining Date

We had been dating for a little over a year now and my expectations for our relationship had been slothfully shifting from fresh and exciting to moments of confusion, mixed with occasional scavenger hunts for clarity. As it stands (and I’m completely speaking from my perspective alone), our present, more than slightly, clips the wings of what we planned for ourselves when we first committed to this journey. It was agreed upon that our prospects for our growing relationship would have simplicity and honesty embedded within our foundation. And from those standards we would build.

As time moved on, there seemed to be a shift working its way into our routine. A shift that imposed plans of unfair intentions; a personal agenda if you will. The one who I was growing to the level of Love with began to become inconsiderate, even selfish to some extent. Phone conversations embodied a dryness that only the Sahara could relate to. One word answers that could possibly equal to complete a single sentence replaced full, thought-out, verbal expressions from the heart. The change was not a welcomed one. This was not what we planned for one another. Granted, things do not always go as planned, however the committment to be willing to participate had already been establish; as well as the promise that communication would be our most resourceful tool. I made sure to separate my thoughts and abilities to perform beyond the idea of a man who does nothing more than to fit the form of the societal perception of what a man is to be. I am striving to be more than that for more than just myself. With confidence, I claim that ‘I deserve better’. And what I view as our finest hour would reveal all answers that I needed to better choose the direction that best suited the question of ‘Should I stay’ or ‘Should I go’.

Over and over, we entertained the idea of spending time with one another where it didn’t involve sharing spaces with family members or friends. Without even noticing, our time together had developed into this tolerable time that consistantly included us plus whoever else. Refrain from confusion, we Love our Loved ones and those who are dear to our hearts. We just wanted an intimate hour where our souls would be about to connect. And that time would be tonight.

For days we put thought into the idea of ‘Where do we go for quiet to ourselves?’ And not one time did we agree. I’d say, “Justin’s?” She’d say, “No.” I’d suggest, “Warm Daddy’s?” She’d reply, “No.” Then, she gasps with excitement, “How about we keep it local and go to this spot near my house? It’s nice. It’s quaint. And I really think that it would cater to the mood that we’ve been search for.” I was convinced. She had my vote. So, I responded with, “You’re elation helped me make my decision more and more as the words left your mouth. Count me in!!!!!” This was going to be great for us.

We arrive to the restaurant at about 7:00pm. There aren’t many cars in the parking lot (which is a good thing in my eyes; very little socialization with other customers). We approach the door of the restaurant, I hold it open for my lady Love, and we enter. The view of the interior completely took me by surprise. The lights were dim, the mood exuded an essence of romance that was awe so inviting. And to top it all off, after being seated, our waitor lights a small candle in the center of our table. I had only imagined sharing a space such as this with a female prospect, and tonight a dream seemed to reveal itself to be true. Yet, while all this was happening, I still had it in my mind to remain honest and focused on achieving the task of gaining answers to the questions that I had been keeping bottled up; a defense mechanism with a false purpose to shield me from hearing the truth. I was exhausting myself with harboring issues. And I vowed that I would not allow another opportunity to pass without receiving understanding of why changes have occured within our relationship.

Up to this point, we were near finishing our meals and conversing about good times that we’ve shared since being together. We laughed looking back on some situations, even expressing alternate ways that we could have handled them. We also went as far as revealing family stories about one another to add to the evening’s development. We were really having an awesome time, but I felt that if we wanted to continue moments such as this, then we would also have to be willing to tackle unstable situations such as the unspoken downward spiral that we have recently been experiencing. So here goes nothing…..(To be continued)

Birthday Texts

Only me. It could only happen in my life that a simple “Happy Birthday” text message turns into something far from the intention. It was innocent, I swear all I did was text her “Happy Birthday”, but she needed more from me. It’s a ritual I enact a few dozen times each year, at midnight I call or text a family member or friend “Happy Birthday”; I’m not big on holidays, but I believe birthdays are special and I like to ensure that someone feels that way on their day. However, I may soon be changing my practice, here’s why…

At 7:14am on a cold winter’s Saturday morning my phone went off and there was a simple “Thank You” message text, so I ignored it, a simple reply to a simple message. What came next was the inevitable birthday question, “What are you getting me?”, to which I replied, “Same thing as last year, only better”. It was my belief that I gave her nothing for her birthday and I was sure I didn’t, I don’t buy gifts for people. The toothy smiley face in my inbox told me something different, but I figured she was just excited about it being her birthday.

A barrage of text messages came through telling me how she’d been missing me, missing the things we used to do, missing me inside of her. I was dumbfounded, unsure of where this all came from, we had “the talk” months before and I believed she understood I was moving in a different direction with my life, a direction that didn’t include her. The final text replayed what we did for her birthday last; the drinks, the vibrator, the pictures, the video, the friend, the disappearing condom…all of that!

What had I done? I’d reopened the closet where I concealed the bones and nights Rick James would blush at, I’d done so much in recent months to remove myself from that lifestyle, that when I came face-to-face with it I was embarrassed. But here she was excited, thinking that I returned to her, if only for one night.

My apologies and explanations seemed to be falling on deaf ears, she was already making plans around what she believed would be a late-night tryst, she believed she was going to get the gift that had stopped giving, me. I reminded her of our previous conversation, reminded her that she didn’t fit into my new life, reminded her why, but it didn’t matter, I had reminded her of what she loved and what she didn’t have anymore.

Here I am at 7:30 in the morning, having a conversation I’ve had to have too many times in the previous months, hoping my sincerity is felt through 160 character bursts. I really couldn’t concern myself with how she felt, I only knew what I felt and the change that was needed…so I changed my telephone number within the next five minutes!

An Adventure as Her: That Old Thing

I haven’t written like this in a long time, and you’re my inspiration. I’ve done everything that I can think of to get you off of my mind. Nothing seems to work. My body is betraying my common sense. You’re off limits. So, why is it that I seem to be craving you like I am?I can still remember how your lips feel. I can still feel your sweaty body pressed against mine. I can still feel your hands grabbing my body. I can still feel your tongue between my legs. I am with him and I love him, but my body misses you. I miss you. I want to feel you again. I want to smell you again. I want to taste you again.

We keep doing this dance, stepping carefully so as to not step on the spots where our true feelings have spilled. We speak in metaphor avoiding what we really want to say. I want you, again.

I know we’re both attached but can’t we just pretend for one night that we belong to each other? Can’t we pretend that my body is yours and yours is mine? Don’t you know that no one has ever touched me the way that you have? Don’t you know that no one has made me sing the way that you have? Don’t you?

So many nights I lay here thinking about our time together. So many nights I lay here with my fingers between my legs remembering the last time that you touched me. So many nights I wish that my legs were intertwined with yours, your breath against my neck and my nose in your hair.

I miss those nights of me sneaking in the night seeking what I’ve been missing.

I miss those nights in the tub with you washing my body, kissing my neck, making me speak my truth through moans.

I miss those nights of me running to you because you knew what I wanted and needed if I didn’t. I miss those nights of  you soothing my soul through your strokes and kisses.

I know better. I know you’re with her. I know I’m with him. My body doesn’t care. My warmth doesn’t care. I crave you.

Somethings don’t have to make sense and you between my thighs is one of them. Fuck the questions and over analyzing. Slide into me and show me what I’ve been missing and running away from. Remind me why this happened in the first place!

I lay back and exhale. You’re not here. I’m not there. I just have these memories of what was and I want it again. We know better. We’re attached. Why does what’s wrong feel so right?

Love…..In Spectrums

It seems as if I have bad timing :: When it comes to Love :: Finally :: I’ve found someone :: Who would fit like a glove :: But circumstances :: Were naturally mismanaged :: Leaving probable prospects stranded :: It took a long time for me to :: Commit to being ready :: My hands were finally steady :: No hesitation Befuddled word placement :: Sweat running down the face I was ready :: But time wasn’t :: I’ve been Observing :: Rewording :: Searching :: And learning :: The language of Love :: Just so that :: When it’s my turn I would somewhat understand :: All of the above I thought I was :: Interested between distances :: Clamorous silence offsets listening :: So close :: Yet so far It was like sending signals :: Into the oblivion :: So hard to pay attention :: Extra!!!!! Extra!!!!! Read all about it :: At last The word is out :: And they’re really about it :: But timing :: They’re without it :: No where near soon :: So close to too late :: On paths to the same goal :: Two routes on a one way

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…

As We Lay

It’s been over a year and a half since I last tasted his lips or felt his strong hands all over my body. Once in a while memories of our adventures seep into my consciousness and paralyze me with arousal. You’d think we just had each other yesterday. I can close my eyes and still see his deep chocolate skin glistening with sweat. I can still feel his plump lips all over my neck. I can still feel the warmth of his hands. I can still smell him. If you have never had that sexual partner who you could do any and everything with, with no hesitation, you haven’t really lived. I wish for all of you to have that at least once.

I’ve known him since I was a little girl. He’s a few years older than me. I always wanted him. As a young girl, in no other way than just to say he was mine. As I got older, the fantasies surrounding him matured too. When we ran into each other that day, all of those feelings, the crush, the fantasies, they all came rushing back. We stayed in touch. I was involved with someone, he wasn’t. It was innocent for a while. When my situation became toxic, he was still there. He didn’t encourage me to cheat, he didn’t lure me away. He simply posed a better option. I fought it for a while, and then one day I let myself just imagine it. That was my mistake. The moment that I allowed those thoughts to develop and become vivid, there was no turning back.

He didn’t disappoint.

Each time that we experienced each other we were doing something wrong, something that we weren’t supposed to be doing. I was cheating, and he was an accomplice. I knew each time I lied and escaped for a weekend to be with him that I was wrong. I was so far gone in my relationship and what he and I created was so amazing, I didn’t even care. I was a cheater, but I was also satisfied. I was also happy in those moments. Way happier than I had been at home with Him (my then boyfriend) for months. What we had was so complicated; it’s been difficult to explain since its inception.

We talked, but it was mostly about my terrible situation and making plans to see each other. We wouldn’t talk much when we were together. Clothes were being ripped off within the first five minutes. Words weren’t really exchanged after. I rolled over one way and he rolled over the other. We didn’t hold each other. I’d get up, get dressed and head home the next day. No hard feelings, in fact, no feelings. I think that was the strangest part. I’m more than capable of just having a physical relationship. I just wanted him so badly for so long, I just knew that I would eventually catch feelings. But I didn’t. I tried to force myself. But I couldn’t. I didn’t spend too much time dwelling on this. He served his purpose. After all, I was still in my situation. 80% of the time I was with Him, although my heart was in limbo. The other 20% of the time I was in someone else’s bed, tangled in someone else’s lust, in someone else’s arm, I was someone else’s fantasy. And I loved it.

I don’t think a man has ever craved my body the way that he did. I have never been praised and pampered, the way that he praised and pampered me. He loved every inch of me, every ounce of me. He loved my body in ways that you only read about in books and see in movies. It was surreal, it’s still surreal for me. He wasn’t afraid to tell me how badly he wanted me. He wasn’t afraid to take control of me. He picked me up and held me down, he pulled my hair, he bit my neck, and he sucked all ten of my toes and licked crevices on my body that have never been touched by another person.

I was drowning in my relationship; I was dying as each day passed. When I was with him, he breathed life into me. He reminded me that I’m beautiful. He reminded me that I’m sexy. He showed me that there was more out there than the situation that I chose to remain in. Opposites truly attract. He was something that I wasn’t used to. He was attentive. He was vocal. He was strong and masculine, yet gentle. He wanted to play music and light candles. He wanted to run me a bath and join me. He wanted to massage me and arouse me. He wanted me to climax as many times and in as many ways as my body could stand. And then there’s me. The stuff he was into was just something for the movies; I liked real, raw sex. Ravage my body. Take me here and now. Pull my hair and restrain me. He forced me to explore the other side. He taught me to slow it down and appreciate the small moments. We attacked all of the usual positions and scenarios and then ventured to discover new ways to have each other.

I loved each and every moment of our time together. I fell in love with his sex. I just couldn’t see myself falling in love with him. That’s what tripped me out. We were so incredibly compatible; we were so amazingly in tune. Yet, the moment we were standing up, clothed, and with the lights on- everything that we built laying down just seemed to crumble. We were two strangers in the light, but our bodies were soul mates in the dark. How is that possible? I wracked my brain trying to make sense of it. I tried to force feelings, I tried to force more, but it just didn’t click. We just didn’t click. I wanted more than orgasms and moans, and that was all he could give me. I was able to appreciate our moments but I knew I wanted more. He’s smart. Has a job. Two degrees. Tall, chocolate and muscular. Funny. Sweet. Caring. Considerate. Firm. All of the things I love in men and would look for in a partner. Our spirits just weren’t for each other.

I was confused for a long time, but then I just learned to accept it. What we had was all it was meant to be. A stich in time. Memories that will never be forgotten. A story to tell. The reason why I sometimes clinch my thighs and close my eyes. I see him smiling in pictures with her and I feel no ill feelings. I’m in my (new)relationship, I am  happy and satisfied.  He appears to be happy. She appears to be happy. All is well. I’m glad that I had him in that space and time. He made me feel ways that some women will never experience. For that, I’m lucky and I’m grateful. I’ve learned to accept that our paths no longer coincide. So, I’m left with flashbacks and memories… and I’m okay with that.

To Her Heart…..

 

To Her Heart,

 I am so in Love with you that I can only display my affection for you emotionally. I want to do so much for you that it would take further than forever for me to fulfill those obligations to you. I want to be that fourth inspiration within your life (with the exception of God, and your two beautiful children) that you can depend on for Love, happiness, security, and inspiration. Although our first attempt at a relationship was not suitable to your life at the time, I strongly believe that it was a wonderful introduction to something that is able to shine brighter than one’s eye could see…if given the chance.  

Recently, you’ve allowed an addiction to play a role in your life, and I know that you know that death by carelessness will not help you to become all that you aspire to be in life. Baby, allow me to be your addiction! I want you to be so addicted to me, that you decrease your chances of damaging that beautiful body, and increase your possibilities of becoming more than a successful example for your children to idolize. Please understand, I am not asking for you to become solely reliant on me. No! I am asking you to step outside of your hindering ways and allow me to be the provider for you that will never, ever let you down; the provider that will openly and honestly supply you with everything that you may be in need of outside of your own independence.

I am willing to take any amount of baggage from your situation that may be weighing on you, place it on my back, and carry it so far away from you; causing you never having to use your past as an excuse as to why you “can’t”, when you know in your heart that “you can”. I know that you still Love me. You’ve expressed that! However, I truly would like you to profess those words, if in fact you accept those words in your heart to be true. Since your departure from me some time ago, I have devoted myself to a mission to find Love and submit to its embrace. I refuse to settle for anyone who isn’t willing to give their all. Now, I am more mature. I am more aware. And I am more deserving of the things that I felt that wasn’t worth in the past.

These words don’t explain all of how I feel about you; I’ve shown you. My word is my bond; I’ve proved that to you. I could care less about what you think others think about you, my foremost concern is what I can do for you. I’ve acknowledged that! Ultimately, my motives, in which I write these words to you are, one, to tell you what exactly has been going through my mind since connecting with you again. And, two, to find out if a second opportunity awaits us to be together again. If there is a second chance at a you and I, give pleasure to my expectations. If you feel that your life is able to thrive comfortably without my involvement, please allow me that clarity. As always, the decision that you choose will not take away from the Love that my heart holds for you…..I Love You.

 ~ From His Heart