1. I love a fightin' bitch
2. I am not trying to have Pookie from Cleveland knocking on my door
This is bama-ry in the first degree!
Friday, July 31, 2009
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Remembered... Pleasure?, part one
I have never written of this before because frankly it was too painful, but here goes nothing...
I met him Memorial Day Weekend 2001. I was still fresh off a weekend of whoring around and getting my life at Parliament House in Augusta, GA the previous month. He was with my friend Eric. He was wearing jeans and a sky blue jersey. He was short, brown-skinned and very very cute and he had an intensity about him that drew me in. We shook hands, the touch lingering a few seconds more than necessary for strangers meeting in a crowded room. We spoke of simple things and common interests, always managing to be near one another throughout the rest of the day.
An exhange of numbers, the promise of a date before he returned to Los Angeles...
He never called
I chalked it up to the normal flakiness of black gay men and didn't really give it any thought. Two weeks later, on a Friday, I get an IM at work: "I kicked myself every minute of the trip home for not calling you." It was him. He said he felt foolish, because he was into me from the moment I said hello. He thought it was crazy to be so into someone he had just met.
That night we talked until the battery on my cellphone died and then we talked some more until the battery on his cordless died and then, we talked some more until my cordless phone died. Somewhere during that conversation, he called me Daddy for the first time. I had always hated that word, because I felt it meant I was getting old, but falling from his lips, it was the sweetest melody I had ever heard.
For the next three weeks, we were as inseparable as two people could be (who lived on opposite coasts). We revealed everything about ourselves, the good, the bad and the ugly and still wanted to know more. Plans were made. I had to reveal to him that I planned to take a trip for the 4th of July to Tennessee to meet someone I had begun chatting with before I met him. He said that was fine, after all, we were just getting to know each other.
Well it wasn't fine.
When I got back, his attitude changed. He became defensive and argumentative. He accused my of cheating on him. In short, he became a crazy bitch. Hmmm... maybe there was a reason we lived on opposite coasts. He was dismissed.
Labor Day Weekend, 2001
The mutual friend, Eric, had a little soiree at his house and had invited both of us, unbeknownst to the other. When he saw me, I saw the shock register on his face. I had almost forgotten how beautiful he was. He came up and invited me into the hallway. The door closed behind us and there we were. I reached out to touch his face, stroking the contours of his eyebrows, his cheeks, his lips. He whispered to me, please Daddy don't, even as he moved closer to me. I could feel his heart beating. We stood in silence for what must have been seconds and felt like glorious hours. And then he crossed the final barrier. He leaned up and kissed me. I kissed him back and we kissed each other. I had to have him.
On the ride back to my hotel room, we spoke again of inconsequential things, trying to fill in the 2-month gap that we didn't speak to each other. He asked me if I had heard Erykah Badu's second CD, "Mama's Gun." I said no, and he replied that there was a track on it that reminded him of me...
I met him Memorial Day Weekend 2001. I was still fresh off a weekend of whoring around and getting my life at Parliament House in Augusta, GA the previous month. He was with my friend Eric. He was wearing jeans and a sky blue jersey. He was short, brown-skinned and very very cute and he had an intensity about him that drew me in. We shook hands, the touch lingering a few seconds more than necessary for strangers meeting in a crowded room. We spoke of simple things and common interests, always managing to be near one another throughout the rest of the day.
An exhange of numbers, the promise of a date before he returned to Los Angeles...
He never called
I chalked it up to the normal flakiness of black gay men and didn't really give it any thought. Two weeks later, on a Friday, I get an IM at work: "I kicked myself every minute of the trip home for not calling you." It was him. He said he felt foolish, because he was into me from the moment I said hello. He thought it was crazy to be so into someone he had just met.
That night we talked until the battery on my cellphone died and then we talked some more until the battery on his cordless died and then, we talked some more until my cordless phone died. Somewhere during that conversation, he called me Daddy for the first time. I had always hated that word, because I felt it meant I was getting old, but falling from his lips, it was the sweetest melody I had ever heard.
For the next three weeks, we were as inseparable as two people could be (who lived on opposite coasts). We revealed everything about ourselves, the good, the bad and the ugly and still wanted to know more. Plans were made. I had to reveal to him that I planned to take a trip for the 4th of July to Tennessee to meet someone I had begun chatting with before I met him. He said that was fine, after all, we were just getting to know each other.
Well it wasn't fine.
When I got back, his attitude changed. He became defensive and argumentative. He accused my of cheating on him. In short, he became a crazy bitch. Hmmm... maybe there was a reason we lived on opposite coasts. He was dismissed.
Labor Day Weekend, 2001
The mutual friend, Eric, had a little soiree at his house and had invited both of us, unbeknownst to the other. When he saw me, I saw the shock register on his face. I had almost forgotten how beautiful he was. He came up and invited me into the hallway. The door closed behind us and there we were. I reached out to touch his face, stroking the contours of his eyebrows, his cheeks, his lips. He whispered to me, please Daddy don't, even as he moved closer to me. I could feel his heart beating. We stood in silence for what must have been seconds and felt like glorious hours. And then he crossed the final barrier. He leaned up and kissed me. I kissed him back and we kissed each other. I had to have him.
On the ride back to my hotel room, we spoke again of inconsequential things, trying to fill in the 2-month gap that we didn't speak to each other. He asked me if I had heard Erykah Badu's second CD, "Mama's Gun." I said no, and he replied that there was a track on it that reminded him of me...
Many nights he was alone
Many, many many nights
His light was too bright
So they turned away
And he stood alone
Every night and every day
Then he turned to me
He saw his reflection in me
Then he smiled at me
When he turned to me
And he said to me
How Good It Is!
I'm an Orange Moon
I'm brighter than before
Brighter than ever before
I'm an Orange Moon
And I shine so bright
'Cuz I reflect the light
Of my Sun
Ohhhhhhhh
I praise the day
He turned my way
And smiled at me
He gets to smile and I
I get to be Orange
Like I like to be
How Good It Is!
You're the bright light Daddy and most people don't get you, but I'm your Orange Moon and I get you.
I literally had to pull the car over for a second to catch my breath. Was I dreaming? Did I finally meet someone who actually GOT me? I looked at him and he looked at me and there was no one else in the world. He interlocked him hand with mine and kissed it. He held it tight all the way back to the hotel.
Eddie Murphy makes a joke about fucking versus making love. Now, I had fucked many men, but that night was the first night I had ever made love to someone. It was beautiful and highly erotic, intimate, passionate, wild and freaky.
The next day, on the way back into the city, he said I turned him on because I knew all the words to Jay-Z's Hey Papi. He said he liked that thuggishness. Then the DJ switched it up a little bit...
I literally had to pull the car over for a second to catch my breath. Was I dreaming? Did I finally meet someone who actually GOT me? I looked at him and he looked at me and there was no one else in the world. He interlocked him hand with mine and kissed it. He held it tight all the way back to the hotel.
Eddie Murphy makes a joke about fucking versus making love. Now, I had fucked many men, but that night was the first night I had ever made love to someone. It was beautiful and highly erotic, intimate, passionate, wild and freaky.
The next day, on the way back into the city, he said I turned him on because I knew all the words to Jay-Z's Hey Papi. He said he liked that thuggishness. Then the DJ switched it up a little bit...
And I can't believe it's realCan't believe it's youCan't believe it's happeningCan't believe it's youAnd I can't believe that you are here with meAnd I am here with youKissing you
He kissed me again right before getting out of the car and heading back to Eric's apartment. I went right out and bought Mama's Gun.
(to be continued)
(to be continued)
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Her Pussy Will be Missed
Mr. Peacock, Mrs. Slocombe is free. Molly Sudgen died today at the age of 86. She was the star of the hilarious British comedy Are You Being Served.
She will be missed, and I am unanimous in that!
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