The Physicality of it all

The physicality of it all. Words are for the weak. Words are so limited. Let me love on you. Be who you are outside of me. Support me. I got you. Do you got me? I shouldn’t be asking. I shouldn’t have to ask. I’d rather lay down than stand up and fight. Let’s be in silence. Follow my lead. You can trust me. Sometimes things don’t come like they should. Sometimes they come too fast.

The kisses. The abandonment. The love. The inconsistencies of a partnership. The affection is gone. The conversation is limited. She had bad nerves while I slept. I slept hard. She couldn’t sleep at all. I didn’t notice until the morning came. I didn’t feel her energy so I apologized. She didn’t accept.

I lost her. Even though she still cums, I lost her. Good intentions dissolve in physicality like sugar dissolves into water. A chemical change. She stops returning my text messages. She misses all of my calls. When I inbox her she doesn’t inbox me back. She must have not gotten that email. Unwanted silence. Distance. Disconnect.

I see her at the Lake. Everyone is always at the Lake. She smiled a painful smile. It wasn’t fake; it felt removed. It wasn’t painful for her; it only hurt me. I know what a genuine smile from her feels like. That wasn’t it. No small talk. No hugs. She’s just a pleasant stranger. She walks her way. I run in mine. Finality can be overwhelming. The lack of hope. The confirmation of failure. The reassurance of loneliness. I kissed her too soon. I had a dream and when I woke up she was gone.


Growing as a Parent

Sometimes thoughts explode in my head like firecrackers packed with blinding light and other times they wash over me very slowly. This one took about three years to finally reach the shores of my conscious mind but in order for you to fully understand its significance then you must know a little bit about me.  I’ve been a parent nearly my whole adult life, and for most of those years I have been single. Therefore I have been on several dates with a car seat in the back, and I’ve invited a few women over the house on Saturday nights after my daughter has gone to sleep. Over the years I’ve hung out with women and gave them a lot of my time but almost none of them have ever met my little girl. I’ve kept the two entities separate for multiple reasons. The most important by far being that I never feel like the woman that I am dating is worthy enough to meet my daughter. I don’t look at her and see the lady that I want my daughter to be. And this is what brings me to my point.

The concept that I have just recently grasped is this: If the women who I date are not worthy of meeting my daughter then I should not be dating them.

Strong Enough to be Vulnerable



There are few things in this world that I find to be more endearing than a vulnerable woman. Perhaps this is because I have been socialized to ignore all of my weaknesses; therefore I have grown to be easily enticed by a creature that is conditioned to embrace such feelings. I hear a lot of men speak of wanting a strong black woman and I know a lot of women who go out of their way to be viewed as such but I think that’s a problem.


Why can’t a black woman be a lady first? I have been through enough to be strong for both of us. I am drawn to women who are unafraid to be beautiful and who dare to be feminine in a culture where everyone wants to be a man. I suppose there should be some amount of shame associated with my wanting a woman who will cry the tears that I have unlearned how to let go. However, if my views are a little outdated then so be it. I’m a man who knows what he wants and I love a woman who knows what she is.




Is there such a thing as respecting a woman too much? In my life I have known a few women who I have been afraid to touch. I have known women who I have placed way above sex. It wasn’t until I was very set in my manhood that I was able to accept the fact that sometimes conversation is enough. Sometimes a look can be enough, or a smile, or a walk, or a drop of her own perspiration beading up in the middle of her dark cleavage.


It doesn’t happen very often but every now and again I can find contentment in restraint. Sometimes it feels good to be chosen and I cherish the fact that I know I can so I never do. I hope she understands.


Ms. High Sadity


December 20, 2011

I was sitting there in my favorite Chinese food restaurant being judged every second. Snide comments were made on my choice of entrée, my sense of humor, and how loud I blew my food. It got so bad that I lost my appetite. I was so annoyed by the woman who sat across from me that I honestly considered throwing my won ton soup in her face. It had the potential to end up like a bad episode of the show Blind Date but I kept my composure. I made solid conversation with her until it was time for me to go. I walked her to her car and told her to take it easy and wished her good luck in life. After that first date I never returned her texts or called her again.


It’s fascinating because I spent a whole portion of my adult life thinking I deserved to marry some high-class chick who went to private school her whole life and never lived in the ghetto. I used to think that’s what I was striving for. In retrospect I have never been more wrong in my life. I have always had serious problems with people who are condescending in nature. It doesn’t matter how pretty or accomplished a woman is, if she has a nasty attitude I don’t want to be around her.

I still can’t believe that woman. As educated and successful as she was in the end she was socially retarded. She has no idea how to treat a human-being. And though I haven’t kept in touch with her I can bet that she is still very lonely. It’s ironic that a person could put all of their energy into establishing a career and lose their ability to have positive interactions with everyday people. If that’s the price that one has to pay to make it to the top then I am completely ok with struggling down here in the hood. I guess it could be a lot worse.