It’s funny. I always have an entry in mind for the day but of course it usually doesn’t go as planned. Due to my sporadic memory, my inability to write anything down *this is all from the top of the head people, can’t you tell by now*, random conversationss and events that changes the course of my inspiration for the day, and just plain writer’s block.
I am an ar-teest.
*Remember that Sprint commerial with the thuggish basketball players but behind the scenes they were flamboyant as hell…”I am going to my trailer” Oh that commerial used to crack me the hell up*
And it doesn’t help that I’m usually multitasking when I’m writing entries. Usually I’m on the phone or IMing someone as I type an entry, which drives FH *my best friend* crazy when we’re on the phone. She hears the click clacking of the computer keys and assume I’m talking about her *nine times out of ten* I am. I told her she’s free to read the blog but she doesn’t have the time to get to a computer.
The War of the Roses ended in a draw. Until next time…
Our blow ups always surprise me. Since we’ve been over the major hurdles our relationship has been smooth sailing. A few waves now and then but no choppy waters. For us to have two blow-ups in less than two months is pretty rare but eventually they are settled. I guess that’s his way of getting attention since he claims I dedicate too much time to my blog, IM, and friends which of course contributes to me slacking on my duties as a wonderful girlfriend. And I can’t have that now can I?
I don’t think he checks my blog anymore as he had yet to bring anything up but still wave to the boyfriend just in case he’s being nosy again to see what I had to say.
FH and I were on the phone having one off our long drawn out conversations about absolutely nothing *but something*. She’s whining *as usual* about her lack of sex life. But there’s a silver lining in the horizon. She’s due to get some booty from a fine chocolate morsal on her base. But she is beginning to have second thoughts because she is “anticipating” too much. He’s got her all geeked up *sexually frustrated, no booty is almost six months*, getting her undies all wet and while she’s anxious to clear out those coochie cobwebs but she just don’t want to set herself up for disappointment. He’s a sh*t talker. And we all know we hate the infamous sh*t talker. He sounds good on paper but can he really do it?
Put up or shut up.
Of course we’ve both been victims to the sticky thigh so she’s wary of getting too excited only to have her nipples deflate in disappointment. Just because she felt the pipe doesn’t mean the plumbing is working. And she clains she didn’t cup much because he was limp as the noodle that you throw on the kitchen wall to see if it’s done. In fact the sh*t might be overcooked. *lol* And as much as she’s eager to get some, she ain’t trying to add to the coochie mileage by wasting a f*ck on a “he whom is not named”. Because he definitely will be filed in the “he don’t count” file drawer.
I can’t, of course, feel her pain this time as I have live in booty but oh I remember all too well the “drought” periods. I went more than a year without sex before. Ok not now of course but back before my sex addiction kicked into overdrive. Damn near drained my ass when I finally did get some booty. My coochie was like Charlotte’s Web in that b*tch. I had stories f*ck words all up in the cervix. Coochie was sore for about three days because I was like the Energizer Bunny that day. I worked that cat out like a part time job…And then threw him out. Like I said, when I don’t have anyone I can’t pay for some booty. I had to damn near strong arm him for some booty. But let me have a boyfriend or a regular f*ck buddy…They be all over a sister. Like White on Rice. *LOL*
So we’re joking about this when we drift into another one of infamous conversation: Our Relationship Traits. Which is basically what type of person we are in a relationship and how the f*ck we got that way. So we started reflecting back on all the guys who have ran through our life and the ones that left a lasting impression on us. Of course mine were more the “crazy” type. We realized just how much we act like “men” in any given relationship, of course delighting us as we love to talk about the silly ass “women” whom we know or have known. FH and I are so much alike when it comes to dealing with men and relationships that it is downright scary. Thank God we never liked the same guy because I’m sure we would have rumbled quite a few times over a guy *if we did that type of thing that is*. It’s like we had all the traits of being the “woman” in the relationship until we became “Jaded” and just turned into dogs *lol*. Damn by the time we were 18 we were already living the jaded life of a 25 year old. I guess that’s what growing up in the hood do to you. Makes you mature quicker.
Of course my traits as a “woman” in the relationship ended in high school. I guess like men *it takes that one woman to turn you into a dog*, it took one guy. My first love *the guy whose wedding I attended* made me cold hearted. I had known this cat since we were eight years old *our mothers were really cool and they bowled in the same league together* and we were always close. We were like that brother/sister tight until our changing bodies and hormones got the better of us and we decided to “go out”. I started liking him at 12 so I was really glad that we got together due to my growing crush on him. He was always doing his own thing of course but I always felt kind of honored to be included in his “guy talk” which consisted of him telling about his latest conquest *not like I cared* but it beats the repetive conversation about boys, clothes, and TV with my female friends. At 15 *he was 16* we just went ahead and tried the relationship thing. We lived all and all about 8 months.
We did the same thing we did as before only now we were offical. We still kicked it on the block, shooting the breeze, only now I had the “title”. Of course people assumed he had long taken my virginity, but it was a no go. Sister girl was a bonafied pertried virgin. I had heard enough “testimonies” from girls about their first time to be like, “Oh hell to the naw”! I wasn’t giving up the goodies. Besides I remember how much he dogged out women who gave up the “goodies’ too quick. Sure he went on ahead and hit them but he would dog them out afterwards.
Funny, he never pressed me for the booty **little did I know he was f*cking the girl who he later married** but eventually peer pressure *Girl you need to just gone ‘head and give up the drawls* and curosity got the best of me. Besides I figured I should give it up to someone I cared about rather than f*ck around and give it up to one of the knuckleheads on the block. After five months of waiting, I handed over the coveted virginity on a silver patter.
I hated it.
It was the most uncomfortable experience outside of the doctor’s office. It took a while before I really felt comfortable with sex *you can’t tell that now of course lol*. It’s not like he was rough or anything, on the contrary he was really, really gentle, but the whole experience was uncomfortable. I think it was the pain that got me since I am a big punk when it comes to pain. I act like a paper cut is a stab wound, I dope myself up on pills every month, and I prefer to have anesthetics for everything. Call me a wimp but w/e I am a punk on pain. But of course I wasn’t immune to the whole “first” thing. You know so consumed by “love” that basically I was whipped. You couldn’t tell me sh*t about my man. Yeah Tenacious was young, dumb and in love. Never mind once we crossed that “friends to lovers” line we fought and broke up *mainly due to my prudeness* more times than anything. Never mind that eventually he dumped me for the woman he later married as it was she who he really wanted to be with. Broke my poor little heart but thanks to FH and TWIN I “manned” up.
After I glued back together my 16 year old heart enters crazy ass JDUBB. Sweet old JDUBB. My very first stalker. Yeah he set the ball rolling on the “stalking Tenacious” craze. I met him shortly after my 16th birthday. We lasted a year and a half. We broke up a week after his 18th birthday in January. I met him during my drought period. I was moping about being dumped by my ex and slowly that sexual addiction thing kicked in. Once you lose your damn virginity, you lose your damn mind. I hated sex but always had sex on the brain. I met him walking down the street to my grandmother’s house, he said something cute, I smiled and just like that I was back into a relationship. I guess I just needed to get the coochie muscles loosened because once I did, oh my god did I love sex. We were like animals those first few months. Anytime, anywhere, we were up for it. We used to do goofy sh*t like write each other letters, we met outside of each other’s schools *He was a Catholic School Boy. He went to one of the all-boy Catholic schools in Chicago. Yeah there was always a gang of ladies waiting, there were a lot of fine ass boys who went to his high school*, just little sh*t like that. The guy idolized the ground I walked on, something I needed after the sting of my ex’s words *I was just a matter of “convenience” until the girl he wanted came along, thus throwing 8 years of friendship down the drain as well*, and I let him, unaware that I was creating a monster. He was intensely jealous and young dumb me *once again*, I thought the sh*t was “cute” of course. Aww a boyfriend who’s at my every beck and call. Sure he pops up at every place I’m at never mind I never told him where I was going but um yeah he’s just concerned. So what he alienated my male friends, always coming close to blows because they were “too” friendly. He’s just being protective. Making excuses for the nut bag, ignoring the signs that he was slowly losing his mind. He would watch me while I was sleeping, I would always catch him staring at me, he was just really intense. Of course my girls saw the madness and tried to get me away from him, but I had it under control. Eventually, of course, I got tired of it and that’s when the real drama began.
My self confidence was on the rise, my curfew was raised so I was able to hang out more, my mother was slowly cutting those apron strings, preparing me for my exodus out of her damn house, and my girls and I begin to explore other neighborhoods in Chicago, which equaled more variety. And throw in that I was becoming more “aware” of myself and how I wanted to represent myself. I was hanging around more males, weaning myself from females thus refining those masculine traits that I carry. I was getting more of a male perspective of life and the more I learned, the more I loved it.
We lasted from my Junior Year until January of my Senior Year in High School. By then we were one of those couple who fought and broke up more times than we were together. Why did I take hin back? Hell I don’t know. Comfort maybe. I was going out with other guys, doing my own thing now of course, and I do admit I did cheat on him two times. I messed around with this guy on my block **which was a big eww** and then I was talking to this football player from Harper. We kissed a few times but that was it *hey kissing is cheating too*. I guess I was doing everything to get him to break up with me, with no success. He would get really angry *screaming, yelling, punching walls* because I would throw it in his face to make him mad, and sometimes he would even cry *back when tears swayed me* and he’ll forgive me but by then I figured I could run his ass over because I mean he let me cheat so hell why not milk it in the ground?
We broke up when he tried to impregnate me. Who does that at the age of 17 and a male? He figured a “baby” would “settle” me down and of course he would always play a role in “our” child’s life. In fact, that meant marriage because he did not intend on making me a baby’s mother. I was going to be his child bride and love it.
It was our worst fight of course. I think my mind snapped when I discovered he poked holes in all the condoms *actually he has been doing it for months prior to my knowledge he admitted it later during the argument* and was actually upset that I kept getting my period every month. I remembered he would always seem really intent on knowing whether or not I got my period but I assumed it was because he wanted me to get my period. Ladies you know how paranoid men can be about that. Little did I know he was deceiving me. I found out because we got into it because I had some condoms in my purse and I think I threw a few in his “condom” drawer and he spazzed out on me. Like he got really really mad that I mixed my condoms in with his. I think I made a crack about poling holes in the condoms but he didn’t laugh. Face was like a stone wall. Did not crack not a smile. So I get kind of hysterical because he’s looking at me all crazy and I ask him have he ever done that and he better stop playing with me. So he broke down his diabolical plan, just rambling his ass off about how we were meant for each other, and how our unborn baby would look but I was f*cking up the plan because I kept getting my period every month and how I should go get myself checked out. I think I told him there was no way in hell I was having a child by him and I would go get the little f*cker cut out of me and I would throw that b*tch against the wall. I think I was a little more graphic than that and like the madwoman that I am, I started cackling really loudly because I could not believe this nigga. He called me a “cold blooded bitch” and I slapped him. He slammed into the wall *scaring the living hell of me* and told me we were meant for each other and he would rape me, lock me away until I was past my first trimester and I would have his child…And love it. *There was actually a really good movie that was similar to this, GOD I wish I remembered the name*
Then he threw me out of his house. I went home scared and jumpy. Crying my ass off. Sobbing on the phone to my girls. Maybe I pushed him too far. I told no one by FH and TWIN and they strongly urged me to get a restraining order but I didn’t want anyone in my business *especially my parents* and I was kind of embarrassed about the entire situation. I just wanted it to be over. So we broke up that cold January day with me avoiding him like the plague and him stalking like Jack the Ripper. Of course he stepped up his stalking a notch and it got to the point where I would leave school every day at about 5 pm because he would hang outside the building roughly until it was time for hm to go to work. He even broke into my house and was waiting in my room when I came it, talking about he was ‘concerned” about me because I didn’t answer the door. I started getting rides to school by my Harper friend never mind our schools were no where near one another. I had escorts to the bus stop and home. I was always looking over my shoulder. He took to popping up every where I went. The mall, church, movies and he even showed up at the shop where I was getting my Prom Dress made. Eventually I got used to him stalking me. He wasn’t harmless. He would just trail behind me a few paces and just watch me. He knew if he came near me I would show my black ass so he just kept to watching me. Some days he would call me and just curse into the phone until I hung up. As long as he didn’t make a scene he was welcome to watch me do normal things. He did get pissed off because I took my gay pal G to Prom but he really must have lost the left and right side of his mind if he thought I was taking him on Prom.
After graduation, eventually he ran out of steam and I would just get the random “You ruined my life” phone call, which to this day five years later I still get from time to time. Sophomore year of college when I was going through a cleansing period I wrote him a letter apologizing for the way I ultimately treated him, hoping that the letter gave him the closure he needed to move on, He sent it back ripped in pieces.
Oh well. I tried.
To Be Continued....
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