Last week, I got an unexpected knock at my door around 11pm. 11pm? If that isn’t “pre-booty call hours” I don’t know what is. I haven’t seen “The One Who Left During Sex” in about 3 years. Yes, you read correctly; He left during sex. (Some may remember him from this post.)
I met Left at a laundry mat. He was a soft-spoken, tall, and dark chocolate specimen from Senegal. (You know how I love indigenous men!) He helped me fold my clothes and asked me out. We scheduled a movie and dinner date a few days later.
Dinner was delicious but it felt rushed. After the movies, he wanted to have sex in the back of his Impala in the movie parking lot. Are you serious?! I was appalled. I firmly declined. It seemed ultra sleazy and the sexual chemistry wasn’t there for me just yet. And in a parking lot? Dude, I don’t want to be the next viral sensation on worldstarhiphop.com and/or arrested! But I did touch it out of curiosity. (I do have a little sleaze in me people.) I guess he wanted me to repay my dinner and movie with my wet wet. That notion really turned me off. My plan was to never see him again.
A couple of weeks later, I was horny as hell! (Translation: I was maniac and felt oh so hypersexual.) I pitched the pussy and someone needed to catch it. I called him up and invited him over. We were having sex and I got very excited. All of a sudden, he pulled out, and rushed out of my apartment barely saying a word. Who leaves in the middle of sex? I’m pretty sure he dashed like the Roadrunner with the condom still on. I was flabbergasted and embarrassed dot com. Did I do something wrong? Was the va jay jay wasn’t so fresh and so clean as I initially thought? Did I let out a room clearing fart? Was I acting like that chick having sex with Loc Dog from the “Don’t Be a Menace…” movie?
I heard from him days later and he explained why he left. He said that my loud moaning scared him and he thought that he was hurting me. WTF?! How could my porno star moan be mistaken for an agonizing groan? I could have sworn that I was feeling pleasured—not pluverized. Nonetheless, that situation turned me off even further and I avoided his calls indefinitely. He showed up at my apartment a month later and I told him that I was involved with someone else.
What in the hell does he want 3 years later? Does he suddenly have the courage of a lion now? Sorry boo, I don’t want to hear you roar. I told him (from inside my door) that he had the wrong apartment. He didn’t find my response credible and hesitantly departed after a couple of minutes. Wow. He can slowly walk away from my door but somehow bolted (like Usain Bolt) when he was inside of me. Hmm! Ain’t that some bullshiggidy?
It kind of scared me. I am a single woman living alone and it was dark. Who’s to say that he wasn’t alone or had ulterior motives? Besides, unexpected visitors are one of my pet peeves anyway. At least visit me at a decent hour!
Question of the day:
Why would someone leave in the middle of having sex? (Once you stop laughing, please leave a response.)