Side Chick Approved?

Disclaimer: I may sound petty and whiny but it’ my blog. I can be petty and whiny if I want to.

For the past couple of years I have noticed that the men I was involved with sexually or otherwise are now in stable relationships with other women. At first I did not give a damn but lately, it has been doing something to my spirit y’all. The One Who Loves To Text, The One Who Was My Lawyer, The One Who Is Special, and The One Who Was Too Young are now parading their relationships for all of Facebook to see.  I find this peculiar because half of these guys claimed that they didn’t want Facebook in their business when we were involved. Things that make you go hmm.

Anywho…a particular incident had an effect on me and it came from somewhere I least expected. For the past year or so, Young and I have been constant contact. He claimed that he was single and that he wanted me to be his boo. Of course I did not take him too seriously. I won’t fake the funk; a part of me liked the attention. After our horrible sexual encounter, I did not feel the need the have sex with him again. That sure didn’t stop him from trying though! A part of me found his persistence somewhat endearing. It made me feel desired.

To make a long story short, I saw that he recently got engaged to his girlfriend on Facebook. Yep. Girlfriend. It turned out he had one the entire time.  There he was on bended knee proposing to a dainty petite woman as their closest friends look on.  Soon to follow were pics of her showing off her ring which was pretty damn gorgeous by the way.

Jealousy started to set in. Why was she the type of chick that a man wanted to marry? Furthermore, why was I the type of chick that guys wanted to fool around with secretly?  Was I not pretty enough? Was I too fat? Too mousy? Just a wet hole and nothing more? All of these self-defeating thoughts and more swam in my head. Why was this affecting me so much?! I don’t even like this dude romantically. I’m still gaga over The One Who Is a Silver Fox!

A few days later, Young had the nerve to contact me via text message.

 

Young: I want to take you out to breakfast.

Me: I’m pretty sure your fiancée wouldn’t like that. You’ve been acting like you didn’t have someone the whole time.

Young:
sideeye

 

Young: Lol you can be my side boo if you like. I’ll pay you.

Me: I’ll pass. I don’t want to be someone’s dirty little secret. I don’t want to be a side boo, chick, bitch, pussy, etc. Call me silly but I’d like to think that I deserve more than that.

Young: You do tho.

Young: I’ll still buy you breakfast lol.

Me: Thanks but no thanks.

I don’t know why I even replied to his text anyway. Perhaps I was looking for a “I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you about my fiancee” apology.  I definitely wasn’t looking for a “You can be my side chick and I’ll pay you like a hooker” type of ish.

It is not the fact that he got engaged per se. It’s a combination of things. It seems like dudes are by passing me like I have Ebola when it comes to relationships. I’m 35, childless, and sleep alone every damn night. Am I not a fucking catch? A sista can not live on dick alone.

I’m either faced with unrequited love or attract dudes who want a side chick. Do I have “Side Chick Approved” stamped on my forehead? I can not say that I’m completely faultless though; I let men treat me this way for far too long. Perhaps I didn’t think I was worthy to receive more. Sigh. At this point, I’m just done. So done.

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.
you-filthy-whore_o_843139

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!!!

katt-williams-dafuq

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.