I wanted to finish the 2nd part to the Under His Covers Blues post but was too embarrassed to write it. It was also too painful. To make a long story short, Soothed wanted to continue our sexual relationship but did not want to pursue anything romantic with me. When I asked him why he chose his ex instead of me—yeah, bad move—he told me something that twisted the knife further inside my heart.
He told me ever so delicately that he always had a particular image of a mate and that I did not fit into it. In other words, his vision didn’t contain a Black woman. He didn’t say that but I knew that’s what he meant. I was good enough to roll around naked with but not good enough for a relationship. He could put his hands all over my body but would never hold my hand it public. He also told me that he loved me, I was a great person—his efforts to pacify me I suppose—and that some people are just meant to be friends. I then told him that we shouldn’t hang out anymore.
After the times we shared, sexual and non-sexual, it all boiled down to the color of my skin. The feelings of rejection and yes, even inferiority set in. The situation reminded me of the fallout between me and The Lawyer. If you recall, he was a Black man that I was spending time with who told me that he didn’t want to be in a relationship with Black women and that they were only good for sex. Hearing that from a Black man was horrible but to hear them from a White man added different layers of emotions for me. I felt like I’ve been sleeping with the enemy all this time. How could I be so blind to his prejudice?
After that conversation, I avoided Soothed like the plague. I suppose he did the same. He began to date again and brought over the type of women he “had a particular image of” back to his place. Living a few feet away from him grew more awkward and frustrating. Things were so uncomfortable that I wanted to move but couldn’t afford to. When we did see each other, he would initiate small talk but I was usually curt and distant in my responses. Things weren’t the same anymore and I didn’t feel like pretending.
That was 3 months ago.
Lately, he has been texting me more than usual. He even texted me after his overnight guest left. The texts went from seeing how I was doing to he was thinking about me. Something was definitely up. Why contact me now? Isn’t he supposed to be dating the women of his dreams? They sauntered by my window almost every weekend. What was his deal?
As time progressed, he began to say more. He told me that he has been dating other women but they couldn’t fulfill him sexually like I did. He said that they were too sexually repressed, didn’t reciprocate and acted as if his penis was “icky”. I couldn’t help but to laugh. Karma is such a b-word.
I won’t lie. It was definitely an ego boost. This chocolate got him all shook up! Ha! Too bad he won’t be sampling it anymore. What did he expect me to do? Drop my panties and bust my crevices wide open? I don’t think so. The cycle is just going to repeat itself. We’re going to have all this amazing sex until he finds the next non-Black woman of his dreams and kicks me to the curb. In the wise words of Sweet Brown, “Ain’t nobody got time for that!”