Ever Changing Moods

The new math...of men

2011-01-01T16:36:00.000-08:00

It's the new year, and I am bringing no drama from the last into the new. But there are some things about men that will follow me into subsequent years because I still, at my supposedly wiser age, don't understand.
My boy has offered to hip me to some "knowledge" that I apparently don't know yet. Mkay...I'll take him up on his offer.

Scene::

I met this dude the Monday before Xmas. It was a business situation and I was NOT thinking about any shenanigans, let alone meeting anyone. I was trying to take care of business that day. So, dude, who is head of some department, comes over to offer some assistance. The assistance proves to be helpful, so okay. Somewhere in the interaction, it becomes slightly flirtatious, but not overly so. Friendly flirting, kinda.
My ride has to leave and he assures my driver that I'll get home safely if "...[he] has to drive me home or come get me to take me home..." It was raining torrents that day and I was far from home.
At the end of it all, he continues going the extra mile in this whole deal and gives me his business card. Prior to putting me in my car, he tells me to give him a call to let him know I made it safe. I told him my phone number was also on the form he had, as well. Smiles...at this point, we're both flirting outright.

It takes me 2 hours to get close to home...and I call him. We talk briefly...he asks what's a good time to call me later. I tell him...he calls. We talk that night for almost 4 hours. Nice.

We talk every night after that; every day, too, at least once during daylight hours. Night conversations are much longer than day conversations, but there are at least "...Good morning... have a good day..." day time greetings.

He lives about 50 miles from me. He works 15 minutes from where he lives. Hurdle. Not a big one, but big enough for making meeting up during the week very difficult, since he has live-in kids and so do I. He says he's coming into the area for Xmas, and maybe we could meet up, say hi again, in person. Okay...we'll see.

We talk up until that day...we talk Xmas morning, too. I call him Xmas evening when I leave my mom's house. We talk; he's got to work out logistics for the visit, but he'll call me back. I don't hear from him.
He calls me the next morning on the way to his second job. We don't talk that evening due to the nature of that job. He calls me the next morning. We talk later that evening, too.
The week before he'd brought up wanting to get together on NYE. That's high pressure, high "expectation". I didn't put any real credence into it. So now, we're talking about getting together prior to Friday just to refresh each other on one another.
I tell him that I have Wednesday free..let's do it.
So Wednesday, I don't hear from him until it's a bit late to make plans and execute.
Next morning ...we talk again. He says he's going to call me later that afternoon so we can plan something.
Nothing.
After I get off work and get settled, I give a jingle: no answer. 'k.

NYE morning, I give a jingle just to say... no answer. 'right.

I text him (we had texted but usually talked since his phone has certain texting methods blocked) and say, "I guess we had a "phone breakup". Happy New Year!"
Nothing.

So what's that about? That's the new "how you do it"??
If that's the new math, I refuse.

Happy new year to me.

Old-fashioned courting in the 2010?

2010-12-19T09:10:00.000-08:00

I had a date last night. Dates? Nothing new. The guy? Not new either. The whole date itself? Interesting as hell.
The background is that I "knew" him through my friend. He was actually my friend's friend's boyfriend when we all met. He/they came to a couple of sets at my house. They're cool, he's cool; all groovy.
Earlier this year, they apparently broke up (for the last time) and it's officially over. I guess another indicator of something being officially over is when one person buys a house and moves out of the joint apartment they shared. She invited me and my friend to the housewarming, and he was there, too. I didn't know at that time that they'd broken up. And they weren't really my friends, so why would I? That is...until he begins to inbox me occasionally.

So, inboxing, texting, a completely out of the blue phone call one night, and threats of "we need to get together..." He asks me to lunch a few months ago and we set it up. At the last minute, I had to cancel, so we reset, tentatively. Time passed, didn't do it...cut to finally getting together.
This weekend was the dinner plan. Then it rained. They say it doesn't rain here, but it's hella raining now, so we decided to stay in. I cooked.

I like to cook when I have people I know are going to eat and enjoy the meal. Lately, I've been more inspired to cook, getting recipes from other people and branching out...like I said, if somebody's gonna eat. My male friends know I cook my ass off: men can always be counted on to eat a home cooked meal.

So I decide on the menu: braised sirloin with mushroom and shallot wine reduction, garlic butter spinach, baked whole baby yams, tomato and blackberry salad and crusted garlic baguette.
Bomb-eats.com. No doubt.

We said 4 p.m. He gets here at 3:30 p.m. I have an issue with time. If I say 4, count on 4...maybe a few minutes after. I'm trying hard to be very punctual, to get punctual...but early? not so much. I'd gone to the store for some additional fixings, got home, music on, getting ready and *ding dong*
I let him in, get him settled, kinda, 'cause I was unsettled...went to get myself presentable.
We sit, we wine, we hummus and pita, and light conversation. I cook and we sip - I like a man who buys NICE wine; 2 bottles. And because he's Haitian, he brought some Haitian Rhum.

The plate was so pretty, I should have taken a picture of it. Just beauti-gorge.
We ate. He ate everything. And he should have.

After dinner, more wine. Movie. Then egg nog and rhum. and movie. And we just chilled on the couch, talking, chilling. No contact sports. Not even a hug. Oh he hugged me, tightly, when he first got here; kisses on the cheeks; hug again. But while we were maxin' on the sofa, after wine and rhum, NO action.
The thing is, normally, that would be a code 10, man down situation. But....I saw the *thing* that was telling me to let it play. And he's an older cat, ugh!, so a bit more paced with all the goings on. His ex just turned 32, so I'm going to let the age thing slide for a sec and see how it plays.

We chill, it rains, I lean my head on his arm, we movie it up, he says something about an event in the movie where the person gets lusty, "Need more willpower," and looks at me.
Mkay...gotcha. But I'm horny and tipsy. I couldn't fuck him on a first date though. Well, I could have, but I couldn't.

It's late, it's raining, we've had massive amounts of alcohol, he lives in the valley, so he says he'll spend the night. And he does...in my currently unoccupied other bedroom. No contact sports. But I knew that when he said he would "stay over and go to sleep" in his French accent. Ha.

I was so amped up, I put on some soft core porn on cable and rubbed out a good.one. Good. I will say that it was refreshing that he didn't come to my door 'cause I came hella loud...and I didn't mean to, but pressure is a muthafucka.

So he left this morning after it got light and the rain lessened. Again, BIG hugs, cheek kisses, grabby hug, another kiss on the cheek and leave.

He texted me when he got home...with a remark that "...once a year isn't enough..." because the last time he was at my home was just shy of a year when they came to the party here. I told him he could say the word when he wants to do it again. He said he would because he likes me.

Is this how a person is courted? I wouldn't know 'cause I'm not old-fashioned.

Solo

2010-12-01T21:26:00.000-08:00

I went to the funeral home to do my sister's makeup today. She wasn't a woman who wore a lot of makeup, but...when you're dead, sometimes you need a little color. Yeah, I know...that was morbid, but I've been like that dealing with this.

My sisters picked out a blue and black blouse for her, so I coordinated her eye makeup with a blended out dark blue with a natural, neutral, slight brown and a natural highlight. I put a light yellowy pink on her cheeks just enough to make her look "alive", but you couldn't really tell it was there. It just looked like she would if her face still had vascular activity. I put a reddish-brown gloss on her lips, and it settled in nicely, considering...
My niece brought a half wig from the Bay from a place that they always bought my sister's hair. My niece was wanting me to fix my sister's hair like she would do it, but I blends wigs and weaves and leave no demarcation...my sister, well, she didn't have a good blend hand. So, since I was doing this, I took my marcel irons and curled her hair to cascade around her face and blend with the wig.
I think she looked beautiful and alive, like she was napping, when we left.

I feel weird about the whole thing. Picked up a blouse today so we can all be color coordinated for the service.

I feel like I don't have my bookend mate: she was the oldest, and I am the youngest (of my father's children). Bookends. Odd-ends: she had her issues regarding the family, and I had mine. She was my BigSister and I was BabySis, *[XX]* (always said with emphasis).

What does one do with one bookend? One odd-end?

Get on it...

2010-11-23T20:12:00.001-08:00

So... everyone needs a routine. They are predictable for the follower, give the adherent something to work with should they get off track and set a precedent for future action.
The same parameters apply with relationships. And not just "relationship" relationships, but all relationships and interpersonal relations.
There have even been songs made about some folks' programs. Back in the 80's, the late Gwen Guthrie made a song about her program, "Nothin' Going On but the Rent".

I'm putting everyone I deal with in an intimate manner on my program. If you don't know how to "handle" me, I can't deal with you. They'll be given notice and after that, if you can't adhere, then buh-bye.

The Competition

2010-10-01T19:00:00.001-07:00

Funny is...the urge that we all have to compare ourselves with others, especially as it relates to relationships and break ups. We wonder what was it the other person had, has, does, is, can/will/has done to lure or catch our exes.
Usually, the answer is simple and clear. Not a gatdamn thing.

I had an occasion to view my "competition" last night. She's the chick that my ex got with after we broke up. She's actually also a former "sorta friend" from currently and a friend from back in high school days. When exactly she took up with him, in terms of communication and whatnot, is unclear. What is clear is that they took things a lot further than rebound 4 months after we broke up, when they got married. Married.
They don't live together (still, yet), but they got married. Okay.
That shit hurt then. It was also very incredible. Now...it's still incredible, but only that.
But...since I have common friends with them/her, I'd been hearing things about her. Her appearance specifically.

Now I will say that she was not ugly back then, but she was not cute. After high school, with some exposure to life and such, she matured and became a bit more attractive. That era is apparently over. WAY over.

My competition...isn't.

I'm a chunky chic. Chunky, but shapely. I want to lose a few pounds, tone up, but I've got a shape if I never do that. It's not all about the aesthetic...but sometimes it IS. In this case, it is! Especially when mutual friends are describing her in less than flattering terms; not just women but men. I could think that they were doing that only for my benefit...and I tend to give folks the benefit of the doubt because every one's taste isn't the same.

Um...there is no benefit to be given. I really wish that overweight chicks would stop using the term "curvy". Yes, I'm overweight, yes I'm shapely...I'm truly curvy. That broad is LUMPY and not to mention FRUMPY.
I asked my boy to pull up her Facebook page yesterday because I had to see for myself. WoW! She's gained weight since the last time I saw her -less than a year ago- and she carries it very poorly. She dresses it even worse.
When I saw her, she was in sweats and a jacket. It was late fall/early winter...me giving the bennies of doubt, right.

Yeah, well, not anymore. I saw the pics last night and thought, "Ewwww, for real? You go from me to her? Yeah, playa, you need to keep that."
She has Monique's (old, bigger Monique) old chin and gut tucked up under hers and had on some body's Grandma's old sweater on over it. And these weren't candid, not expecting the picture shots, but she was apparently dressed to be 'out'.

Yeah, no...aesthetics are not everything, but looking put together doesn't hurt. And for her to call herself curvy?? More like blocky as a cinder block wall.

I can't say why, but it gave me even more peace to know that he didn't upgrade but rather downgraded. My girl friend, who was a very close friend of his, told me long ago that he wasn't able to handle my 'glow'. She didn't say that to gas me up, but she was evaluating what she knew of him. It jibed completely with what I'd come to know about him. From what I'm seeing he went to...yeah, he chose a pile of wax rather than the illuminated, long burning, fragrant, elegant tapered candle that he had in me. And that's completely fine because I have need for someone whose spirit is lit by LED and isn't threatened by a bit of extra light in the room.

You down with OPB?? Yeah you know me!!

2010-09-26T18:41:00.000-07:00

I have been busy doing everything and nothing. I don't know if this is even read by anyone or has been read lately...
but I have been busy reading Other Peoples Blogs, OPB. It even has its own tune, sung to the familiar tune of Naughty by Nature's song OPP, 'cause...yeah.

I think I'll go back to blogging. I might even get bold and post it so that other folks can see it.

There's a LOT to write about...much more to be learned from fleshing it all out.

Quest for balance...

2010-01-06T11:44:00.000-08:00

Flesh it all out because there is NO rush. Let it play.

Reminder to myself.

Ready to do you.com.net.gov.edu

2009-11-25T11:50:00.000-08:00

This broad here!! Read the following. I LOVE this chick:

"I had been single for 9 years since my last relationship (some cut buddies and losers in between but single nonetheless). And in those nine years, I would say that in the last 5 years, I really thought I KNEW myself and what I wanted and didn't want and needed and so on.

I had met tons of "potentials" but nobody that really hit the mark. It's partially being "ready" and partially "being ready to be single for the rest of your life."

I know it sounds crazy but when [her current dude] and I were EXTRA platonic friend we were talking about love and relationships and he said to me, "you know ... you really aren't ready to be in a relationship until you're ready to be single for the rest of your life."

I thought about it and it made sense. When you're ready to REALLY say "fuck it, I don't care" is when things aren't as desperate. A lot of women don't really believe they are being desperate but there are things that we do that are desperate acts like PAYING FOR SHIT because they don't have it or ACCEPTING SHIT that you KNOW you shouldn't because you are little worried that you're getting old and that there's a chance that you might miss the boat.

You ACT different when you are REALLY ready to be single for your whole entire life. I know I did. At 29 years old, I arrived. Fuck it. Fuck you. I'm not breaking my neck just to say I got a nigga.com.net.edu.org.biz ... you know the rest. I always say that [her dude] attempted to "break up" with me a few weeks after I visited ATL.

I told him that I completely understood (even though I didn't because I never was WITH you so why are you breaking up??) and that I thought he was a great man and that I wished him all the best. He didn't know what to do with himself.

You see, the old me would have tried to help him understand why I thought he was the one for me.
The new me don't really give a fuck.

After I sent him his well wishes he bought a plane ticket the NEXT MORNING to fly out here and confess his undying love for me.

And if it don't work out ... I'm still READY."

And so...if you stay ready...ready to do you, be you, love you...you ain't got to get ready 'cause you're already there.

{and now...I'm so here...which is why you and he, and him, and they and them and whomever need to read this}

Measuring love...

2009-11-22T12:32:00.001-08:00

I saw him last night.

I went to our mutual friend's little game night social gathering for drinks and food and games...it was fun. He had his son and had plans to go to something else (he went to a h.s. production of 'The Wiz') at a theatre that was in my neck of the woods.
After, he called our friend. She'd previously invited him in the same email she'd invited me.

I'd been there for a little while before he got there. I was already tipsy and having fun. There was a man there that I would "have" just on principle 'cause he moved me like that. Woooo. But he's a friend of the hostess and he's doing "something" with another of her friends, even though everyone is single.

So, in he walks. I don't meet his eyes. We're already doing Taboo and well into it. Hostess introduces everyone around and he says "Hey...." I said "Hi." I still don't look up, though he's standing right next to me now.

He's got his son with him, too, so my wee one and his son go off to play in the Hostess' room. They're fine.

I guess he eats and gets some wine and joins us in the fun. So, he does his Taboo turn and is a hit and gives some really funny clues. Really.
And we just coexist in the same room, not relating.

Something happens with the kids, and that's when he comes to me, calls my name (which I didn't realize at first) and says wee one is doing something. I looked up and looked him directly in the eye...for the first time that night. I go...do.

And we all do our thing. So my turn comes up again and The Man is up there with me. I'm touchy feely, Hostess is now taking pictures, so he catches one of us. For one of them, he grabs me and we embrace, she takes a pic. He's about 6 feet even, maybe 6'1". I was barefoot, as we all were. He's thick, but in no way fat. Like a dude who used to work out a lot, but has gained a little weight. It felt good underhand.
So we're up there and I'm just vibing off the energy...needed a bit of testosterone in my atmosphere. This was safe because, though I have to admit I wanted 'some' (of him specifically: gat damn), he's off limits. At least...yeah, off limits.

So, we play a little more and eventually the fellas win at Taboo. Xlove's kid gets a bit sleepy, so he starts getting him ready to go.
But he sits down in a chair for a few. I took him aside, in the Hostess' bedroom.

I say to him something like (I was drunk, can't remember exactly) like ...I can't remember, but my point was that he'd cut me off, figuratively speaking and won't talk to me, but we can show that we can be in the same room together. He says, "I don't hate you." So I say, "Then what is it?"
He said he's been in a funk the last weeks and just needs to sort some things out. He said this hasn't been easy for him. I asked how so, it appears that way (that it's easy)... He says he just needs some time.
It's funny, he's visibly uncomfortable. I was leaning back against a wall, just looking up at him. I wanted to embrace him, to kiss him. Again...I was drunk. I saw him look at me and his eyes watered a bit (he wasn't drunk) and he looked away, at the TV, blinking. I have to admit that delighted me a bit.
I'm still in his heart.
It made me feel good that I'm not hurt by myself. Although...the pain is much less.
I was so horny though.

So, later, I sent him a text that I wanted him. BADLY. Gawd, I was so horny. I had help in remaining chaste though. #1, I was so drunk that I couldn't drive to go any.where. (Dammit) The former who has a crush on me again...he was out of the area, bowling. The last ex/booty call was in San Diego. He's eager though...so I'm SO GLAD that he wasn't around. And, of course, Xlove didn't answer me.

I just wanted his arms.

So, I wound up sticking around, 'cause I was DRUNK!! and couldn't even get clear enough to drive home. Woooooo.
We (another friend who came with a dude she's seeing who's friends with Hostess), that other dude, The Man, Hostess' friend who's "something"-ing with The Man, Hostess and Host Hubby sat around listening to music, drinking tea and playing Uno. Hostess' friend had to lay it down, so that left the rest of us playing...the Hostess and our friend went to lay down, too. So now I'm at a table with Host Hubby, The Man and other dude.

It's all cool and groovy and my fade gradually fades...but I'm still flirting with The Man. He lives in my city, too.
Another circumstance...he would get it. And like Meshell said, "Mad sex and when we're through, I really have no problem actin' like I don't know you..."

I fall into the house closing in on 5 a.m. this morning. Happy, having had fun, having let out the leash a little further.
Hostess gave me a book, "The Language of Letting Go."
mkay. This night helped, too.

Over it

2009-11-21T16:24:00.000-08:00

Okay, so this is a big ass relationship blog? No. But that's what I've felt like writing about.

So, yesterday's done, and I think I'm over it. I sat and blubbered and snotted and cried until I had a headache. I heaved and became hoarse from crying. My eyes were irritatted and my nose stuffy from accumulation of mucus.
There is something to be said for release.
*wooooooo saaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhh* never felt so good.

I am so much lighter and feeling of "me" that, were it not for the thoughts that drift to him, I'd be completely "better".

Over it doesn't mean I don't think of him, want to check on him, still love him. Over it means the acute bleeding has stopped and thrombin has begin to seal off the blood flow. Soon a scab will form. Really hope, if he decides to make contact, that he doesn't do it in that time: I know how I am and that won't be a good look for him.
Afterward, the scab falls off and there is new skin. I don't want my skin thick, just new again.

Heart Burn

2009-11-20T10:41:00.000-08:00

This hurts so bad.
How do people do this over and over and over.
Maybe I've never actually been here before.
It doesn't feel like I have.

I can't remember this pain before X.

I remember sadness, dejection.
I remember lonliness.
Never this.
now
I remember love

I don't remember this grief
I don't remember not feeling happiness thinking of him
I don't remember not wanting to hate
I don't remember not wanting his arms
I don't remember bone-quaking
teeth-chattering crying, sobbing
I don't remember this pain

I don't remember having my sex
masturbation
becoming an emotional minefield
I don't remember
I don't remember my heart before

I don't remember thinking
without him
I don't remember loving anyone else
I don't remember love
before I saw his words
I don't remember before I saw his face
I don't remember love before that first embrace
I don't remember home without him in it

I don't remember how I feel
I don't remember how to do
I don't remember not thinking
feeling of him
I
I remember the scent,
him alone, us together
I remember his face
smiling, frowning, twisted with expression
I remember his eyes
he loved me with them
I remember his hands
I held them, he supported me with them
I remember his lips
his voice as it passed through them
I remember his feet
on my side

I remember not wanting to reach
but I reached
I remember not having time
but I gave it
willingly
I remember not wanting to hear
but I listened
I remember wanting to listen
but he wouldn't talk
I remember not wanting to touch
and he held me

I remember open
and glad and honest
I remember happy
the heat of my skin
when he touched me, when he was near
when he loved me
when I heard him
I remember when he told me
not the same words
that I'd used
I remember he explained his depth
I remember my heart exploded
at his in-loveness
I remember me in love
with him.

(c) 2009 JRC

"Fool of Me" - Meshell Ndegeocello

I remember when you filled my heart with joy
Was I blind to the truth just there to fill the space
?Cause now you have no interest in anything I have to say
And I have allowed you to make me feel dumb
What kind of fool am I that you so easily set me aside

You made a fool of me
Tell me why
You say that you don?t care but we made love
Tell me why
You made a fool of me you made a fool of me

I want to kiss you
Does she want you with the pain that I do
I smell you in my dreams
But now when we?re face to face you won?t look me in the eye
No time no friendship no love
Don?t say don?t touch you I can?t touch you no more
Can?t touch you any more any more
I don?t touch you anymore

You made a fool of me
Tell me why
You say that you don?t care but we made love
Tell me why
You made a fool of me you made a fool of me

I was gonna blog

2009-11-08T09:39:00.001-08:00

but I've decided to right a book instead...

More to come though...

Been so long

2009-11-05T14:08:00.000-08:00

since I've written. I've written in other places...then stopped that too.

Do I only blog when I'm having issues with the fellas in my life? Do I only blog to release from that shit? Maybe.

I'm in love right now...and it's causing me emotional and physical pain right now. I need to exercise this. NEED to.

I will be attempting to not contact him...until. When that "until" is, I don't know. He's on some "power trip" about the party who cares the least wins. If that's the game he's playing, then it's clear that it IS a game and I want no parts of it. I just need to let this feeling, this tie, this thing dissipate and move on.

I still have some of his stuff here. It's actually a good amount of stuff. He doesn't have a lot in the way of clothing, so a pair of jeans, a couple of work shirts, some undies and undershirts (I bought a few of those undershirts *sigh*) and socks (he has the ones I bought...and the mofo never even said thank you!) is a lot...

Wait. That helped. Yes, I bought them and put them in the drawer like nothing...but you know damn well what you brought here from your house and you know what you had. And those extra things...nope, you didn't have those. You never even intimated, subtly acknowledged them...just took it for granted.

back on track...I have some things at his place, a robe, travel kit toothbrush, phone charger, Carmex (a must no matter where I lay my head). It's nothing too major though my phone charger is a PITA to acquire again and my robe in my good, cold weather and travel robe (it has a hood).

This 'break-up' was honestly brewing and would have come anyway. I'd changed since he'd had a temper tantrum a few weeks ago. And every.week.it.was.something. That was old.

The problem is...the problem is with him. That is to say, one doesn't know there's a problem until suddenly he's exploding about some minor shit. THEN...he pulls out and enumerates about a buncha shit that either has nothing to do with you or was inconsequential at the time so he decided to save it up and make it something.

Oh...and is it my baggage that you equate chivalry/politeness with blows against your purported manhood? Is it my baggage that you feel some kind of way about opening a door for me because then, according to your experience, if you open/hold the door, you think that'll mean I expect you to pay my bills? WTF? That's called damage, man. Damage.
Shit, for me, that makes me feel like, "What the hell do I need you for?" I want to feel protected and feminine. And yes, wrong or right as it may be, my femininity is tied up in some of society's ancient mores of superficial social roles for men and women. If I'm carrying three bags and your hands are empty, it's not chauvanistic to think, expect, that you should help...hell, just offer. If I decline, then oh well. But it's the thought that goes forever, if you're not even asking? Nah. Hell, I'll get my carpentry, plumbing, electrician or auto mechanic skills on if I wanna, but then, I'd still like you to open my car or building door, hold out my chair and see me seated first.
Thank you for rubbing my feet though (even though your class counselor had to tell you to do it and it's a good thing!).

But then...I also have my need to "take care of"...it's a fuckin' weakness that can be my undoing...if I were to let it.

He had a procedure today. I was supposed to be with him for it and helping him after. We broke up on Sunday...or rather, I was un-girlfriended (via facebook, no less). I still would have taken him and seen him through it. Hell, maturity is...some things are beyond your personal shit.
Hell, I saw Robert through his knee surgery thing in '06, and at the time we weren't really together.

(continued...)

On Today's Menu...

2007-02-07T21:38:00.000-08:00

Jan 26, 2007 9:44 pmMood: restless, 14 Views

Today, I'm in the mood for a relationship. Not just any ol' relationship ('cause that's easily accessible), but one designed by both parties to be fulfilling and pleasing. Something effortless but emotionful, loving, sensual, humorous, thought provoking, warm, inviting, even spiritual, passionate. The bond must be real. Intimate.What I had was done. Over. The intimacy was gone. Without that...without me looking into your eyes and wanting you...not just wanting you on a physical level, but wanting YOU...there's nothing.He'd asked me to be with him, but I couldn't bring myself to. I understand how people feel when they just go through the motions. I require that passion or I just can't get it going.That's something more than one man (including him) has said about me: I'm very passionate. If it's directed at you, in whatever manner, how very lucky that man is. If it's gone...it's quite sad.I need that to thrive. I could use a little right now.

I couldn't do it.

2007-02-07T21:37:00.000-08:00

Jan 15, 2007 9:57 pmMood: melancholy, 34 Views

The absolute yearning of one human body for another particular one and its indifference to substitutes is one of life's major mysteries. --Iris Murdoch

I stole this quote from another person's blog.I responded to her use of the quote. However, I found myself in this position just this weekend.Simply because one presents himself before me does not mean that I can partake with the same vigor and enthusiasm...that I may have had before.I think, "His kiss does not compare..." or "This doesn't feel like..."A switch is thrown and I'm not on anymore. Lights out, good night, thanks for coming. Maybe he realizes. The coward in me hopes he does.The selfish bitch in me hopes he doesn't. Either way the situation takes care of itself: nothing changes or everything/nothing changes.I craved him. But not who was in front of me, who wanted me to want him. He wanted me to feel for him what he's building for me. I can't. Not now. I did. He told me then that he didn't want me. He did not want to give me what I needed of him.Fine. I put my feelings away and moved on. It was easy. Necessary. It was done. Now he returns and requests (out of the blue) that I resurrect what he killed. Easter's not here yet.What happened? Nothing. He kissed me, I withdrew. I couldn't respond like I do with him. I don't feel that welling passion. My mind drifts to a different encounter, different face, different sensations. I rip him apart (in my head) for being everything he's always been. It's not his fault. But it is.He's just a fling right now...but I like it.He's supposed to be something more, but I'm unsure

New Year, New Dick??

2007-02-07T21:33:00.000-08:00

I haven't blogged in a while.

It's not that nothing's been happening but simply that I haven't wanted to put it out there like that. I realize that while my face is out here, (my tits as well), and that this is a completely public site (though many would be hard pressed to state, "Hey! Didn't I see you on ***** ****** ******" in mixed company), I won't make my entire life public.

However, there are, of course, those juicy little tidbits which can be mentioned without great recourse. This may be one of those times. Maybe, because I don't know where this little rendevous is going. Maybe, because I'm not really taking it seriously. Maybe, because I have never actually entertained, let alone gotten physical with, someone younger than myself. Maybe, for some other factors.Right now, though, we'll go as far as it goes, even if tomorrow is the last time.

There's nothing too racy or out there (yet)...just a little something that's making me say, "Oooooh." And, well shit, that's the most important thing if nothing else.He's just a couple of years younger, so nothing too drastic. He's a tradesman and has been in his line of work for at least 8 years. We met because he was doing some work for me. Now being the nosey sort that I am, I was present while the work was being done. I also contributed my two cents while he was working. He's very personable, so we took to each other and did a little lightweight flirting. As the day wore on, he continued working, our flirting grew outright. As I am who I am and the way I am, I thought nothing of it. When around someone I find attractive, I seem to be in a constant state of harmless flirt.
As work was concluding, we'd gotten past the formalities and become comfortable flirting...I still gave it no thought. He'd leave and that would be that. Instead, he gave me his number. I returned mine.We talk on the phone sometime.
BFD.HEAVY PETTING

Turns out he has to return to tweak something. He does. After he's done, he asks to stay to talk. He does; we talk. We've got fire jumping from one and other. It's palpable and it's lighthearted and fun. I let him touch me (just my hand and arm) and he knows how to modulate his touch: very sensual, non offensive. That's an art. It's inviting. It's arousing.I touch him and I see his dick rise through his trousers. He covers it modestly and discreetly {points for that}. I'm hot and bothered, but I can disguise that more than he can. We continue talking.

I want him...I want to at least kiss him, so I put myself closer to him. The conversation turns only slightly sexual and we use innuendo {more points: I love a bit of sex talk, but I've got to be feelin' you first, otherwise I'm turned off!}Given his position now, he has the opportunity to kiss my neck...and he does, ever so softly and gently. The kinda thing that makes my pussy spasm and flush with warmth.
So I had to turn to kiss him. That was some of the best kissing I've had in a while. Urgent, but sensual. Can I use the word 'succulent' in regard to kissing?? 'Cause it was. HOT! SEX!! on a PLATTER!!I wanted to fuck him. I was trying to be restrained though. You know, New Year and all!!He took off my bra and gave his complete attention to my nipples. My gawd! So to divert his attention, I began, in earnest, to carress his dick. I sprang it loose from his straining boxers and trousers and into my hand. He's not enormous, but enough to work with.
Between my breasts I placed him and began to 'titty-fuck' him. He almost lost his mind.

So he pulled me back up to kiss him. He worked his way into my sweat pants and pants to my wetness. He dipped a finger, then two, into me and curved them. It was all I could do not to become a blithering idiot with my orgasm. The insistent, yet gently firm probing fingers, his mouth on my neck and breath next to my ear and his other hand on my back holding me to him...I wanted to make him come. I wriggled away from him and down to his dick agan. I watched his face when I took it in my mouth. His eyes widened with delightful surprise and that look of lust that had been in his eyes all evening grew brighter than I'd seen previously. I know what I'm doing with a dick, so it didn't take long before he began to gasp and tense.
I love to hear a man say he's going to cum...and he did cum all over my hands, his pants, a little in my hair.

Realizing what time it was, how long he'd been here and that we both had to work in the morning (and we'd both likely sleep very well), I bid him adeiu...with promises of calls and to do it again.

We did do it again. Some it it...today; this morning. Still didn't fuck him though: the bitch with the red suitcase is visiting. And that was okay. Hell, I'm having fun just "making out" like in the good old days. And it builds anticipation like nothing else.

Those Random Snippets Again...

2007-02-07T21:30:00.000-08:00

Nov 27, 2006 10:29 pmMood: cynical, 73 Views

oh gawd, he could get FUCKED!!
i can't put a finger on what it is...but damn!!! Out of state, be damned. Don't let me make my way there, or vice versa. All bets are off and I'm on it!!Is this what it feels like to have a grown crush?

I was tired, but I needed that rest. Don't ya know, don't ya know: why is it when you want to, need to just SLEEP, everybody and anybody is calling?
Him, HIM, him, too! It's nice to be remembered, but I had a date with a pillow.

He allows me to treat him so poorly. I think that's why I continue to mess with him. Either he's a glutton for punishment, or he doesn't think about it. But he must, because he's asked me why. I was honest. He said he'll let me dictate contact. I didn't want contact, so I didn't reinitiate it after the call.
That's not rude...that's exactly what we said.

I'm friendly. I need a guy buddy. Not necessarily one to fuck either. I've got that. Won't rule it out, but don't count on getting near the cookies: it might not happen. I need a buddy to hit the movies with, see some shows, concerts...chill stuff. We can fuck other people, and just come together to do the friend and hangout things.
Maybe, if the chemistry's right, we could lay on each other. No strings, no guarantees or promises about the future.I'm busy and I might not always want to see you.But if you can make me smile incessantly, laugh, and be comfortable, you're mint like flint.

If this is you, apply within.

An Ode to the THIGHS

2007-02-07T21:27:00.000-08:00

(moving my blogs from another site)
Nov 19, 2006 12:18 pmMood: excited, 82 Views

I have a lust for men. I have a similar attraction for women. I think that's just an admiration, though. I've never taken it there with a woman.

Yet? Even if I did, might, could, my overwhelming draw is and will always be to men.

Why? Everything. Their scent: the natural scent that you smell even through all the cologne. Their voices: I'm a sucker for a deep voice and I get all worked up over the natural bass in a man's voice.

Their bodies: they were made to fit me.

This leads me to the thighs. I generally like a certain build of guy, though I have dated all kinds from short and "petite" to tall and skinny or tall and fat. The overriding trend is that most of them had a "football players" body. At least that's what it's described as by those folks who are supposed to be authorities on categorizing everything.

I like a man who's broad shouldered, broad chest which still tapers into narrower but squarish hips. This leads me to the thighs. Usually men with this build tend to have thick, muscular thighs.
It doesn't matter to me whether the muscles are ripped like a body builder or just there, under the surface, providing that strong, powerful understructure. I love the feel of the hamstrings under my fingertips when I am gripping the back of his thighs when he's in my mouth. The power that the thighs generate when he's coming at me, entering me in whatever position, be it just him bracing himself or actively fucking me.

Let's not forget the look of a pair of strong, muscular thighs striding across a room: the way they frame the package. The way the suppleness can contrast with his hard-on when he's ready for me. I could even go so far as the mention the tingle I get when watching a nice pair of thighs shower: the way the water glides over the skin, drops clinging to the light covering of hair now slicked down by the water.

The thighs...second only to a charming, bright smile. But I can't grip a smile can I?

2006-10-23T22:41:00.000-07:00

(an excerpt from a song soon to be released by a major, known, singing group)

Baby...I just wanna be all boo'd up with you...

Whereever we are,
I just wanna be
all boo'd up with you...

the attention that you show me now
is enough to hold me down
whenever you're not around...

baby
I just wanna, I just wanna be
all boo'd up with you

yeah...
_____________

Do you have your boo for the winter?

Cold weather is coming and you need to be fully stocked in the mate department for the next few months.
First, the holidays. Gotta have that person to watch the ball games, parades, and winter specials with. Gotta have that person who'll do the dishes after Thanksgiving for you.

The trading of sentimental trinkets on Christmas (or Channukah or Kwanzaa) and the tender gazes of love and lust over glasses of spiked nog.

Then there's the celebrated kiss when the old year gives way to the New Year.

You got your boo?

Your boo's gotta be able to hang for at least the coldest months of the coming seasons. They've gotta be someone you can stand at least until the groundhog emerges. You've got to be able to cope with their voice, their scents, their habits. Being able to spend extended periods of time with them in confined spaces is a plus. You should be able to blend with your boo: sense of humor, outlook on world events, activity planning. Even if you don't match perfectly, please make sure you and your winter boo don't clash too much. If you clash too much and too often, one person will want to leave the other and you can't be a boo without having a co-boo.

Now's the time to find your boo!!

This month is almost over and time is running short.
Remember, your winter boo does not have to become a year round boo. It's common for boos to become less interactive as the weather warms. Although, having spent all the winter with each other, some winter boos do turn into lasting boos. Nothing wrong with that either.

Oh, and boo sex! It can be some of the best there is. Coming in from the cold rain or snow, getting warm together and then making it HOT!!... it's the stuff of legend and memories. What else have you got to do during the winter besides thinking of and finding new ways to make your boo cum?

sigh.

I'm single and looking to get boo'd up.

2006-10-01T21:36:00.000-07:00

Wow....I feel so lost.

and so free.

All at the same time.

I haven't diary-ed or blogged or released in written form in some time.

I've got all this S.H.I.T. bottled up. Here's one thing. Fifty-leben dozen more.

Time to regain my even keel.

___________________

I'm with R. Right now R is not floating my boat. R's babymomma moved in with him. Why? She's the equivalent of a deadbeat: professional slacker who doesn't provide for the kid. R handles that.

So why not have the KID move in?...Not them both. She's grown. She needs to learn to fend for self. Others do. The old adage, "You don't eat if you don't work," applies here: she needs to learn it.
I'm not jealous. Not afraid they'll rekindle. Shit, if they do, they do. I don't think it's likely though. Not deluding myself, but I feel pretty secure in that. However, the willingness to be a receptacle for other's discarded mess (she was dumped by her fiance) that he exhibits bothers me. Sigh.

And so...As I'm prone to do when I'm feeling dejected and despondent, I turn elsewhere looking for a temporary boat-float. Found one. Kinda. It's not even that serious though. It does, however, give me something to think about other than R. That's just it though: I'm thinking about it too damned much.

Met online (what's new? seems like I only meet flakes and deadasses in person). I was busy being elated about R a few weeks ago, so we didn't really connect until recently. Connect? Did we. Could be onesided, but I felt a *click* that I'm missing right now. I've been missing it for a while, apparently. Funny what introspection reveals.
It felt good to feel "felt", understood, affirmed. Laughing at common ironic views on things, similar sentiments. Damn. Cool.

I needed some simple conversation and listening and I got that. I needed some common appreciation of subjects and I got that. Then I wanted attentive, intuitive sensuality combined with sexuality, verbalized desire, fervor, heat. Boy did I get that.

I feel like a fuckin' crack addict.

He probably didn't mean to, but this man blew me the fuck away. Don't get me wrong, I'm not downing his skills, 'cause he gots S.K.I.L.L.S.!! but it was more what I was needing that made it so spectacular. He filled that need and now I'm fiending like, "Please sir: I want some more!"

I think I simply want escape in that feeling...and I want to revisit it over and over and over. Some people take long baths to wash away the b.s. of life; I'm using the high I got that night.
It's only that particular high that I crave at this moment.

Sad to say...don't think I've ever done this before: while I was with R the other day I was fantasizing about [we'll call him] Z. I've never before had an issue with R's fucking/lovemaking/sexing. I felt so unabashedly entitled to have this other man's face and lips and tongue and hands and dick and body and voice in my thoughts. I couldn't push the thoughts away hard as I tried.

I went to sleep with this man on my mind and awoke fearing I'd given voice to my thoughts and fantasy. He was not a fantasy though: he is a reality that I've experienced. I want and need more of it.

Fickle as I am though, this craving, this desire, the yearning may vanish as quickly as it began. It could all be an exaggeration of something nice, but less than what I've mocked it up to in my head. NAW! I was there and it was what it was.

I don't feel guilty about cheating. I do feel, know, that something is missing. How to fix that is the bigger problem.

Of course, my mind changes direction as the fish in my astrological indicator, so tomorrow may bring another sun.

Big sigh.

Fuckin' in a parking lot!!

2006-01-13T14:34:00.000-08:00

Ahhh...vehicular sex...

Haven't done that in a long while. Extra-vehicular sex? Haven't done that in, um, 11 or 12 years.

Why do it, you ask?? Because it's fun. I'm a to-the-soul exhibitionist (to an extent) and there's nothing like the thrill of getting caught/someone seeing you like fuckin' outdoors. Well, there is the fleeting thought of "Is this how hookers do it?" or "I surely hope the police don't roll up right now!" But those thoughts are interspersed between the "uuuuhhhgg!" and the "ooooooooohhhh" and the 'splacking' sound of him smacking my ass---so I don't focus too long on the negatives.

Who was the lucky fellow?? A guy I'd met and been flirting around with for a while. There was SOOOO much sexual tension between us that just had to be eliminated. And I just couldn't wait any longer. Besides, I never miss the opportunity to completely fluster someone...this was one of those occasions. I ALWAYS carry condoms with me so I was prepared. He had been working me over on the nipple tip so I was wet and rarin' to go. Then he put his hand in my crotch and it was all I could do to not cum before I got the chance to fuck him.

After a few internal debates and second thoughts, I reached into my purse and got the condom. I opened it, rolled it on him and turned around to drop my pants. Yes. Pants. Not even a skirt to make this simple. He, who'd been a bit skeptical, now helped me disrobe my bottom half, bend me over and mount me. I'm actually glad he's not as tall as those I usually date: I wore flat shoes and still had to toot my ass up in the air for the proper angle. Had he been taller, I'd have been tossed over onto my head.

Commence fucking we did. Like two half crazed animals in heat. He's a loud feller too! Because of my doubled over position, I was concealed between our two vehicles. However, he was fully visible to be seen in the throes of something breathtaking - with his shirt tail gripped between his teeth. Having looked back at him and seeing his expression, I was fully convinced that my goal of flustering was done.
And when he came and let loose a hearty groan, I surely knew.

Will I make vehicular and extra-vehicular/wildlife sex a regular thing?? Nah... I'm not homeless and I don't live with my momma, and I'm not a cheap date. But! for that extra spice and to reminisce and re-enact....oh YEAH!!

GAME OVER.

2005-06-05T20:06:00.000-07:00

Suicide is painless?? No...probably not.

but it is NOT an option once you have children. At least that's what they say. And that's why I'm still here. Funny though, I'm depressed because of the disposition of one of my children.

That's okay though: you come into this world alone and you leave (usually) alone. So I'll be leaving HER alone.

Who is HER?? Mother. That's how she will be referred to from now on, if there's reference at all. Try to drive a wedge and do it your way?? I told them you would do this, and they didn't believe me. That's okay, you made your play: game over.

GAME OVER. I'm grown and I don't have to deal with the bullshit. GAME OVER. Independent since 1995. Funny though...now you wanna act like you were always around...like I couldn't have done it without you. But I IDID do it without you. I couldn't have made it through without D.G.

And you want to talk about things I "borrowed" and didn't return. How the fuck you gonna say I "borrowed" the bike pump and didn't return it. I've moved 4 times with it in my possession...the first time was when I was moving from your house. Duh! And that's not the first time you've made that comment about borrowing shit.

Okay: tit for tat?? You want it; got it. You borrowed money off my Discover card and didn't put it all back, leaving BIG balances because you didn't have the money to pay the rent. Same with Visa Gold. You paid for your wedding dress and acoutrement with my Robinsons-May card...never fully paid that back (and that balance was ZERO when you used it!!) My American Express? You paid it (over time) but got it cancelled because you charged what you couldn't afford to pay off in full. I think you're into me for a good $7000, if you wanna tit for tat. And you'll say that I owe you $750 from moving into this house. True. But recently when going through my old check registers I see checks with your name on them labeled "help". Hmmm...I think we're even on the $750.

That's okay though because GAME OVER. I've done fine on my own. You get an attitude when you can't get in my business as you like to be. Well, I'm not one of your sad sorry sack friends who you gripe about to me....but smile at and visit with. You told me before that I hurt your feelings about some bullshit a while back. Oh well. That was how I really felt, and as I crest and cross over 30, I have no desire to stifle my true feelings. That was the past, for the birds. You liked to say how I was just like my father in that respect. The tradition of the genes continues.
I get more grown everyday, and have learned to deal with and speak the truth. Whatever that may be. I will not be like you and make it more palatable to myself by twisting it. I'll deal with this situation, but when it is done, GAME OVER. Have your fun because it's all over.

Derelict Daughter??

2005-05-02T09:26:00.000-07:00

I haven't made any reservations or plans for my mother's Mother's Day "event".

I'm an only child.

I'm going to admit it: I'm a little confused.

I AM A MOTHER, twice over, to my little ones. So MY Mother's Day plans have revolved around what I'm going to do with my little ones. Not that my mom is not involved, or appreciated, but I have omitted her as my focus.

Heck....Since no one has access to my home to do it...I'm hoping BigSon can make me some boiled eggs and toast for breakfast. Maybe even some Hot Dogs (he can make some mean kosher franks) Anyway, I want to have a day about ME, since I'm worn out and I feel I deserve some recognition.

I'm buying myself some tix to see Mint Condition and maybe even Rahsaan Patterson at a couple of venues this month. I might even splurge and get tix to Kenny Lattimore too! It's all about me.

I saw a beautiful gift on TV which I'd ordered...and had it not been broken when it arrived, I'd have had it engraved with a thoughtful phrase and the kids give it to her for Mother's Day. I had to send it back though...and I haven't thought about it since.

I will have the kids do something for her in recognition of her grandmothership...but I'm the MOMMY right now. I guess this post is driven because there are times when I feel like she's competing for MOMMY-DOM with my own kids. I had to set her straight recently about coming into MY house and setting "rules" for when my BigSon was supposed to do 'A-B-C'. I had to tell her that that was my domain and the rules that I've already set are what he follows.

Maybe I'm just being Vain and Self-Centered??

We had a good talk on the phone yesterday, but I do tire of talking to her sometimes, especially if the conversation is not directed toward some particular topic. I love her, but once we've exhausted the topic, we can hang up. Besides, not prolonging B.S. conversing will keep it fresh for next time.

Eh...maybe I'm hormonal. Or maybe, it's like I've been saying all along: My tolerance for B.S. is growing shorter by the year. I do know there are two people that I've met in the last 8 years that I can vibe with on the level that I vibe with only 1 other person, T & F. Both of those chicks live outta state though. F was only here temporarily on an assignment and T moved a couple of years after we got out of college. She's coming for the summer, a couple of weeks.
I'll be very happy.

For now, I guess I'm just remiss or something. Oh well. At least I know it.

Irony Is....

2005-04-23T23:00:00.000-07:00

the white woman standing in front of me with the last name "Coon". She looked like an old southern broad who would have used that name in it's racist sense, or have known someone who did.

Sterotype?? So.

The clerk at the checkout line put her last name to my first name when giving me my forms. When I called his attention to it, he became flustered and went out of his way to prove to me that it was an 'honest' mistake.

Yeah.

That's just nassssstay!!!

2005-04-02T21:01:00.000-08:00

Let me first start by saying that I don't care if a dude/chick wants to be gay. I might have some gay tendencies myself. I can appreciate the hell out of a nice looking chick. I might be given to staring at certain body parts...even her face. But that might make me covetous, not gay. Don't matter. I've appreciated a woman, but I've never taken it to that level: a sexual level. Heck, I even dig SOME woman/woman porn, but who doesn't.
Whatever. If one day I become gay, I will most def be on the up and up and OUT about it.
Which brings me to this---->

WHY, oh why oh why??? did my girl/my best friend/my kids' Godmother tell me what she heard about my son's sperm donor??
And this is how it went down. {fuck punctuation and proper sentence/paragraph structure...I'm telling a story: don't edit, read.}
My girl, call her E...her husband bowls at the same spot the sperm donor does. It goes back a while and I don't feel like typing the whole story out right now, but that mufucker is on the DL, but not really. He's on the DL because he hasn't come out, but I guess he's coming more and more out of the closet.
Here's a smidge back story:
Long after we broke up, I still had some old shit on my 'puter that he'd put there. He had the stuff password protected. So I'd called him one day when he was acting like an adult and asked him for the password. He gave me two. Tried one, didn't work; the other did. So I deleted the stuff off my puter.
I got curious and nosey and felt like doing it...so I typed up his email addy, just to see if it would work. It did. Why were my suspicions 'bout dat mufucka confirmed?? This nigga had all kinds of correspondence from women (random chicks he'd meet and fuck), but I already knew he was unfaithful...that's one of many reasons we broke up. But not just women, MEN TOO!!!!!!!!!!!!

AND, it get's better. That day, he hadn't checked his email for a few days...so I scroll down the list of legit stuff, junk, and ass mails...and see a birthday notice from a GAY site. I click that mufucka. It's telling him happy birthday...and reminds him of his password and user name. I go to the site...log in...and check his profile: why is this nigga's name "Bigdicklover"???? Any of yall know him??
It goes on to list out his vital stats...so the question of "it's a mistake" is a nogo. And it lists what he's looking for in a man, one qual. is "...a big dick to suck and get fucked by..." I'm so shocked. and yet I'm rollin' on da mufuckin' flo' at the same time. WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO....

and I'm glad that when I ended that relationship, I pronto had myself tested for everything under the mufuckin sinful sun...and I came up NEGATIVE on all.

Now see, the funny thing is that when we broke up, I thought about posting the naked pics I took of him on a gay site. Why? Because in those pics, that nigga looked fruitier than a box of loops, and there was nothing erotic or arousing (for me) in them. It was as if I was a professional photog that he was posing for...for homoerotic literature. I couldn't get wet off those pics if I was hip deep in the Pacific Ocean. Alas, I didn't have to send them in: the nigga sought out gay sites for himself.

Of course, E, being my girl...I told her all about my discoveryl. And I lamented that DAMN, I even had a child with this fucka.

Now...back to today..and the convo my girl tells me about. Sperm donor's phone is d/c. This has happened many times due to his triflingness...but he's gotten it reconnected. Now, however, it's not. So I was gon' go up to the bowling center and ask him, Nigga where the child support? {the fucka is also a deadbeat...won't even keep a steady, permanent gig so the county can garnish his wages}. But I had way betta shit to do last night, and I'm sick, so I didn't. He bowled as usual last night...and E's husband was there.

Now E has shared this DL info with her husband...who's shared it with his boy who plays b-ball on the same team as sperm donor. E's hub just told his boy, basically, watch out. Here's the shit that had all the boys like, Fuck dis nigga, last night. Mind you, all the friends that sperm donor had and made while I was with him are gone because he showed his bullshit on everything from money (borrowing and never repaying or leaving bad debts) to whatever (letting folks down on all kinds of misc. shit) at one point or another with those friends. I still see some of those folks, and they're like, "Fuck that nigga...." Not for my benefit, but he burned his bridges.

okay---->

Last night the fellas are drinking and bowling, and between turns to bowl, they're playing tackle football in the cleared out areas. E's hubby's boy tackles sperm donor. While they're still laying on the floor after the tackle sperm donor says, loud enough for most of the fellas to hear, "Aaw naw, you gon' have to fuck me tonight!"
E's hubby said they looked at sperm donor, and he was serious. Hubby said they all broke out, away from that nigga. She said her hubby came home puzzled , like "Did this nigga really say that?"

Get this: sperm donor got MARRIED, and has ANOTHER child on the way. But he talking 'bout fuckin' men, too??

Ahhhhhhhhhhh....the joy I feel about having removed myself from that situation. But I'm still rolling....

A Wasted Day??

2005-03-27T20:24:00.000-08:00

Okay well damn. I have been in front of this fuckin' computer all damn day.
Well, I did go away for a little while when I got on my skates with BigSon, tryna teach him how to roller skate.My momma bought him some skates for his bday in January.
I had actually planned to go roller skating this evening, since it's usually family skate night..but since it's a holiday they're not open for the earlier hours.
I haven't been on skates in 3 years, and before that, in 6 years, and before that, 10 years +. I broke my ankle roller skating on the sidewalk when I was 12 years old. For many moons after that I was scared to skate.
6-7 years ago, I bought some more skates...and just hadn't gotten up the courage to go...
My ex went skating religiously every week.And I found out why: it's like the club up in the roller rink. Niggas hooking up and 'causing scandals and shit.
It's more than just family leisure and entertainment.
Back when I went skating with him, I was pregnant, so I was scared of busting my ass on my embryo/fetus.
Today, was cool, no fear, and I was actually steady. I'm going to need to practice to get back to being fluid, but I skated around the yard pretty well. BigSon has some learning to do, but he was a'ight.

Anyway...I guess I'm going to work an extra few hours in the next pay cycle so I don't disrupt my budget, so I can get my Ipod.
I seriously need one. I have completely filled up that memory card I bought (for my palm) with today's downloads. And it was empty before.
Best buy has a 30 gig Ipod for $349...and the F.M. transmitter (so I can listen to my music in my car) for $39.

Ah, here I come to join the ranks of the consumer gadget addicts. I already have this and that, now I'll be adding another. They serve a purpose I suppose.

Off now to cook dinner...for tomorrow. No cooking after coming in from work tomorrow, so I'll cook tonight. What was TONIGHT'S dinner??: Healthy Choice instant entrees.

It's Easter but and....I don't do bunnies and celebrate some commercial shit like that. Only for Christmas.

How trifling can you be?

2005-03-26T16:29:00.000-08:00

To be a "baby's daddy" in the true sense of the word.

I looked up this word in the "Ghetto Dicshunnary"

Baby's (Baby) Daddy--n.--[ba be' dad' e]--one who contributes to a region's birth rate while depleting the region's capital resources due to non-support of resulting offspring.
synonym--deadbeat.

Why do I have any involvement with a baby daddy? My son's sperm donor is a deadbeat.
Pissed off because his checking account had been garnished, he called me a few weeks ago. He asked if I had an address for him to send some money to.
Yeah nigga, my P.O. Box hasn't changed. You know that. I'M the stable one.

I need to call my girl's man and initiate a search on his so they can pull any and all monies he owes. Fess up and pay up nigga.

Sometimes it snows in April

2005-03-25T22:35:00.000-08:00

sometimes I feel so bad...sometimes I wish that life was neverending, but all good things they say never last...love isn't love until it's past.

I'm really depressed, I really premenstrual...they tried to kill me today at work.

Train this new person: we won't pay you extra, we won't give you any incentive (educational), but we'll sap you 'til you're dry and tired and can't think for yourself anymore. Oh, and here's MORE work.

I'm love-less, sex-less, money-less and tired. That makes me equal to 3/4 of the population of the US. Well, 3/4 of the declared population. All the illegal immigrants don't count. Really, they don't count them, can't count them. They don't want to be seen, until they need jobs, healthcare, or to sue you because their "rights" were somehow violated.

I work to pay bills....and I can't even get all those paid. We're just ordinary....*insert piano riff here*

Maybe it'll get better...maybe I'll just sleep...

"Ain't we never gonna see the light?? Ain't we got no shame?? Naw, we ain't got no shame??"

But you better act like you got some sense.

I like it, I REALLY like it

2005-03-14T11:18:00.000-08:00

I used to keep a diary but I fell off long ago.

I used to write poetry, but my inspiration was sapped from me.

I used to have a vivid imagination for stories, though the mood had not struck me in long whiles.

Through his eyes, in his face, in my life, I've found the space to write again.

Again, I look within them, him, her, me, watching, interpreting, balancing out thoughts, wishing for in silence.

oooooooh, I'm going like it here.

My Birthday

2005-03-14T07:58:00.000-08:00

Today I am one year older. In the tradition of many women, I may begin to turn back the clock; or at least freeze it. It's not a bad age but since 40 is the new 30, turning 31 means I'm going to have to really kick my own ass...because I'm supposed to only look 21? I'll settle for looking the way I looked at 25. I was pretty hot!!

Beyonce did NOT coin the phrase "bootylicious", I did. I will meet her in court to support and back it up. Bootylicious was the word that I'd coined to describe myself. Titty-plenty and bootylicious: me. Funny thing is that I first used the word on the internet, talking to a guy in Texas. Beyonce's from Texas: was she online reading my post? Or was I talking to her daddy??

When I was 19, I was even hotter: coke bottle shape, Serena had nothing on my thick, tight thighs, my ass was taut and round, boobs big and full. That led me to meet a man, well one of many, who LOVED my shape...he changed my shape by putting a bun in my oven.

When I was 25, I embodied the confidence of a woman who has borne a child, had regained my shape, and was on the grind, graduating college. I had two or three lovers at the same time. Scheduling was a bitch.

After college, I was working and traveling across this great country of ours, this U.S. of A. I traveled to the East Coast and I was embraced with open arms for my body. California is about Barbie sized broads. The East Coast/South East recognizes the beauty in ample hips, defined waist and full busom. I was a star! Got me into a little trouble, but fuck it, I wasn't married.

For a few years it was my season...until I met them. Two men: both with traits that I love in a man, even the same last name. One was no competition for the other, he was the total package. The other needed tweaking...and oh how I love to fix things and see the results of my work. I chose him, the fixer-upper. FUCK!! I should have heard the sound that they use on gameshows to indicate wrong answer; BUZZZZ!!!
He changed my shape, again. The result of that is snoring on the couch embodied in a big head, small body, expressive-eyed joy, who's only care in the world is Sesame Street and Barney...and his big brother.

Which brings me to my birthday. I'm two years out of that relationship, and thanking all that is holy that I did not marry that man. He would have been the male version of Lacey Peterson, only the pregnant woman would be killing the man.
I need to seriously rebuild myself from that relationship. My waist needs tucking, belly needs crunching, thighs need biking and walking. I can't be lazy anymore, and god am I lazy. But I'm no spring chicken anymore. Lord knows I don't want to look like some of these 25 year olds I see today: pot bellies, love handles, back/bra fat, jiggling things, in tight clothing. And some of those oafs have never given birth. There is no excuse for that shit.

I've never been tiny, though I've fantasized about it, only because I wished to be a ballet dancer. I've had that fantasy since I saw The Red Shoes when I was a little girl. I bought that on DVD the other day. I've always been shapely, thick, since I began puberty in my preteens: there went dreams of ballet. But now, I've gone overboard, I sympathize with Kirstie Alley; I know her pain. My excuse is two years old and he's actually my inspiration. He's lanky and fluid and lightly toned.

I'm 31 today. I can't be a wanna-be; I'm a need to be, gonna-be.

Break me off tonight...please

2005-03-14T00:15:00.000-08:00

Here's the "other story" of "that's another story"....

Friday nite, I go on a meet and greet. This is a guy I've been corresponding with via email and some phone conversation since about October. We've kinda tried to get together before, but it just hadn't panned out: he wasn't available when I was, I wasn't when we was. Sometimes, I must admit, I didn't feel like being available.

So Friday, I did. I was scared. He'd seen me and I, him, in photos. Flesh and blood is an entirely different issue. I'm gorgeous, beautiful, pretty, cute, delicious (lol), depending on who's doing the description, but it's still all up to personal interpretation. He could have interpreted me as ugly [the horror!!].

I even went out shopping for something new, different to wear. Nothing fancy, just something new. Who am I kidding?? I wanted to shop anyway.

That night, he's running late and I'm running late. I get there before he does; he calls and says this L.A. traffic has got him, but he's coming. Since we're meeting near businesses, I take my liberty and stroll through my local record/video store. I buy a three DVDs, one of which is The Red Shoes.

He calls and says he's made it to the area, so I go meet him and we drive over to a walking spot. Here is where we actually see each other in person, outside vehicles. We hug, say our compulsory greetings and begin to walk. Casual conversation is had, and we gaze at the ocean and homes we aspire to one day attain. We sit on benches a couple of times and talk. Once we cuddled up, that is, he sat in front of me, leaning against me to brace me from the chilled breeze. It was nice and warm, nothing lewd or inappropriate. Good, neutral conversation.

We walk back. Mind you, while we've talked a lot, it's been nothing too personal. So there's a vibe that a connection is there, we just haven't crossed it yet. He even smacked me on my ass as I was ascending some stairs. Awkward is the exchange before a kiss, even if it's perfunctory. We arrive back at our cars and sort of stand there. We hug goodbye, but we're still both standing, waiting. I feel a kiss in the air, but it's not come down and grabbed either of us. So he walks me to my car, sees me inside, and kisses me on the lips. Nice lips. Then he closes the car door, but it bounces open: HE CLOSED THE DOOR ON HIS THUMB!!! We chuckle (he's not seriously hurt) and he closes the door again, with all body parts clear of the door. We've said we'll see each other again.

BUT I'M HORNY. I was horny when I met up with him. I wouldn't have had sex with him on that first date: it wasn't that kind of date. But we could have done some really wet, deep kissing. It wasn't that kind of date either.

Needing the release, I call my friend. This man is married. I've known he was married all along since we met, BUT the attraction overrode my sense. My friend and his buddy were trying to get together at one point. They never did: we did. The passion when we get together is...well, it's just lust. Lust is good, lust feels good.
My friend is doing his regular Friday night activity and I ask if he's willing and able tonight. He is. I go to meet him.
We hang out at the bar, among friends, one of which he'd brought with him. He asks his other buddy if he could give his "carpooler" a ride home. So he's all set to leave with me.
Not wanting to alert private eyes, watching him, he leaves ahead of me. Ah...the M-E-T-H-O-D of modern love, er, lust.

I waited 10 minutes and left after him. A man who's got it bad for me follows and tries to convince me to give him some time. He looks dejected that I don't, but I've got to go get mine!!
My friend and I had agreed that we're meeting at my place. I race home. He's not there. I call and the call goes straight to voice mail. Call again: voice mail.

I'm PISSED and HORNY. Fuck him!! No, really, I wanted to FUCK HIM!!
So I work one off for myself and go to sleep.

Today

I call him and ask, rather demand, to know what happened. I emphasize that I'm pissed. He says he's equally pissed: his buddy ("carpooler") ratted him out. Apparently carpooler called his own wife to pick him up even though the good buddy was going to give him a ride home. So Friend's wife calls him questioning his whereabouts. Since she's up and waiting, he's got to go home.

I remind him that it's my birthday today. He asks what I want and I tell him I want an MP3 player. However, he, personally, could substitute and will he be able to see me tonight? He says yes and we'll talk later. This conversation leads to the title of this entry.

My walls are throbbing so hard at the mere thought of his thickness, hardness, thrusting against me.

Call me wrong, call me a whore. Right now, I'm horny.

His asshole.

2005-03-13T22:52:00.000-08:00

I'll ponder it. I've seen many things on the internet, but I've never, EVER had a man willingly show me his asshole. He was under the fantasy that I'd lick it, if ever either of us were to traverse 3000 miles and enter the other's real life consciousness.
He saw my picture on a dating site (yes, I internet date, not internet lick assholes) and was intrigued. He showed me his photo and he was gorgeous. So we began to talk, rather type. The conversation quickly turned to sexual matters. He called me delicious; said I looked so. He began to talk of the things he imagined he could do to me. I began to fantasize.
And why not? I'm not fucking anyone currently...I could have the other night, but that's another story.

So as he ran down the things he would do for me, and I gazed at one of his photos, I imagined what I could do to him. My words on the screen turned to what I would do if he were in front of me, and he asked if I wanted to see what I'd be working on. YES.
Oh, did I mention that he was on cam by this time? He tried to get me on cam but, though I am beautiful, I was not camera ready then. So he cam'd, I watched. He was every bit of what his photos looked like: Tall, athletic body type, Italian, dark haired, intriguing smile. Today, he hadn't shaved and looked really rugged and sexy.
Okay...so he stands up, his hairy chest, and hairy belly lead to a less hairy pubic patch. Then the undies come down over his tool. Impressive. yes. I'm no good with TV measurements, but he had to be 7 inches, SOFT and dangling! I gave him kudos on it: cut, no curve, ample to work with. He began to stroke himself standing in front of the camera and he got hard. He pressed it to his belly to show me his erect length: It made it to his navel with no problem. Then he turned sideways; approx 9 inches long. Are all Italian men like this? It wasn't exceedingly thick, but it could be a mouthful.
I so love to see a man stroke himself that I attempted to inspire him to continue pleasuring his tool. My words spoke of my mouth on his body and my hot breath engulfing him, licking and sliding over him. But he had plans for my imaginary mouth. He asked the question: Do You Lick Your Man's Ass?? Not wanting to stop the mood, I answered yes.
Well, I wasn't lying because I have licked my man's ass. My man's ass not some random man's ass. On seeing me type "yes", he was almost ecstatic. And he did it. He did the thing that I would not expect any straight man to do: he bent over and exposed his asshole to me. He didn't just bend over, he pulled his ass cheeks apart.
My mood was immediately lost.

We dallied on for a while longer, but by then, I was no longer enthralled by the prospect of this Italian Stallion (did I just say that?).

I can not get this man's pink asshole out of my head. And it wasn't puckered either, and that just leads to a few more questions.

I don't know. Maybe I just expected things be a little bit more traditonal, especially on a first- type-cam date. Heck, now there's nothing to save for the second-cam date.

Well, he hasn't seen me. He may get to see me, but he surely won't see my asshole.

If this is what internet dating is going to do for me...I think I'll be Lesbian.

But then again, that would mean I couldn't absolutely drool at another man I saw.

Nevermind.