It Wasn’t My Race???

Sorry for not posting regularly. This is my last semester in grad school. I’ve also been putting the final touches on my poetry and prose collection, the chaos of longing. It’s frustrating but exciting becoming an indie author. Buy my book when it comes out. I need light bill money. Ha! The poetry is relatable, lusty, heartbreaking, and honest. It’s kinda like this blog but with metaphors and not as wordy. 

Anywho. Back to the subject at hand.

About 3 months ago I was lonely and feeling a bit ravenous. I hopped in the shower, shaved (everywhere), and oiled my body until I was glistening like Lupita Nyong’o! I asked Soothed if I could come over. It was quite late and I figured I didn’t have to spell out my intentions.

I sat on the couch as he played Dungeon and Dragons on his PC. After a few excruciating minutes he started up the Netflix. I just knew that the “Chill” part was right around the corner. Yes! Do me baby! (RIP to Prince though.) Usually around the 10 or 20-minute mark he’s discovering my right nipple.  I’ve relied on this fact for years.

THE CHILL NEVER CAME!  THE NIPPLE WAS NEVER FREED!

I gave him the light touches he couldn’t resist. I made sexual innuendos. I gave him the come hither stare. The cleavage was sitting high and looking ripe. Nothing worked. I even said that I was horny as a last ditch effort.

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Come on! It’s right there! Touch it. Touch it.

He was not catching what I was pitching. Awkward.

Towards the end of the movie, he received a text message and replied. By the next alert he’s lighting up like a Christmas tree. Awkwardness filled the room. He must have felt it too. He put his phone away and rejoined me on the couch.

I got up to use his bathroom. When I returned, he was back on his phone! He came back to the couch and claimed he was sleepy. I knew that was a lie. He made a production of it too. He yawned and laid his head on my shoulder. I told him I would go and let him get some rest. He told me to stay. He put on a new movie but continued to work on his craft. This Oscar unworthy performance was getting ridiculous. I took the hint and my ass back upstairs!

I remembered this behavior. When he met his ex, he became very distant. I decided to never speak to him again after that night. We crossed paths a couple of times but I pretended not to see him.

I couldn’t pretend that he didn’t exist yesterday.

My car stalled at an intersection during rush hour. I felt emotional, alone, and sweating like a pig in the Texas heat. A tow truck was being dispatched within the hour. Soothed saw me and pulled over. He got in my car and sat on the passenger side. I began to cry. He was the only person to stop. He told me that he didn’t know much about cars but would sit with me for a while.

He apologized for his behavior a few months ago and gave me an explanation that I already knew. He has a new girlfriend. He met her online and it was getting serious. So serious that he’s moving in with her. He asked if I wanted to see a picture of her. Of out curiosity I said yes. The pic took me by complete surprise.

She was black.

All this time I thought that he didn’t want to purse a relationship with me because I was black. I never threw the race card in his face but I took what he told me as prejudicial. Now I’m aware that it wasn’t my race; it was just me as a person. There was some relief but I also wondered why I wasn’t good enough. I guess he saw something in her in these past few months that he never saw in me for 5+ years.

Story of my life. Go figure.

I didn’t reveal those feelings though. I was just grateful that he was there for me in a moment when I felt so completely alone. Fridays is Dungeon and Dragons game night and he was running late. We shared a few gut busting laughs. He gushed about her  in between. Before leaving he said, “I love you sweetie. Text me to let me know you made it home safe.” At that moment I recalled what he told me a few years ago—some people are just meant to be friends.

Baby Got Fat!

I started things back up with The One Who Sets Me on Fire a couple of months ago. He’s been trying to see me since our last tryst in January but I always made excuses not to see him. And then my vagina got lonely.

Fire is one of the best lovers I’ve ever had. I swear he got his Ph.d at the Pussy Whisperer Institute. He has the stamina of a teenager and he’s awakened something inside of me that I didn’t know existed. I’m even writing poetry again. I’m way too shy to share it here though. I’m sensitive about my shit! I never knew that I would enjoy lovemaking. I’m so used to getting pounded like a dirty whore during detached yet highly orgasmic sex.
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He has shown me the beauty of taking my time and the power of touch. When he partakes in my body, it feels like an “experiencia religosa” (in my Enrique Iglesias voice). It’s like taking the scenic route. I’m no longer spiraling through ecstasy but falling into the grooves of it. A man has never look so deeply into my eyes during lovemaking. There are times I want to look away but something about our oneness redirects me.

Of course this sounds oh so lovely but there is one little issue. I think he may have a fat fetish. I have dealt with enough fetishes to know when I see one. When we make love, things occur. Initially, he would tell me how sexy I am and then it progressed to:

“I like a thick juicy woman!”
“All of this thickness turns me on!”
“I love your big ass titties. Slap and smother me with them.”
“Whose thick body this is?”
“Can’t you tell by the way I make love to that juicy body that you’re so fucking sexy?!”

I could go on and on but you get the picture. The mere talk of my fat seems to rev his engine more. It’s as if he becomes another person literally. That green eyed hippie turns into a soul brotha #9 when he’s inside of me. The loving is so good I tune him out most of the time. He definitely likes more cushion for the pushing. That’s fine. But our last time together, he did something weird. When I was riding him, he grabbed my belly, flapped it up and down profusely and talked dirty to me!!!

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There are two things that you just don’t do with fat girls. First, you don’t mess with our food. Secondly, you don’t gather up our belly, love handles, etc like you’re about to throw it over your shoulder! Seriously?! It was bad enough that I hated being on top because I sweat like a  Shaquille O’Neal pig. I felt like the fattest chick alive. I wanted to twitch my nose and bewitch my ass out of that situation!  Heck, I even briefly considered reactivating my gym membership! After several seconds, the loud flapping stopped. I was so relieved!

I must bring out the weird in people. Next time I wouldn’t be surprised if he fed me or rubbed lotion all over my skin before he stuck his hose in again.