Nawl, this ain't got a thang to do with Mike Jack. This is the Part 2 to my first adventure with Miss Pokey - the part you freaks (and I say that with true love) have been waiting for: The Dirty Details.
I guess I should start where we did:
When the movie was over, I gave Dubs the bruh hug, she and Pokey said their goodbyes to each other, and she left.
Alone at last.
Monday, October 18, 2010
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Back On the Scene
Dating here sucks.
There are plenty of people, but everybody either knows everybody else or has fucked 'em before you did. And we all know how small the circle of black lesbians who date other black lesbians is in any city, regardless of size.
Then you've got to do some subtraction: Take out the studs, the stems who only date fems, the fems who only date fems, the fems who are too aggressive for my liking, the fems are too submissive and/or prissy (not to be confused with being feminine) for my liking, the fems I don't find attractive, the fems who don't find me attractive, the fems I'm incompatible with, and the fems I've already been involved with, and who's left?
There are plenty of people, but everybody either knows everybody else or has fucked 'em before you did. And we all know how small the circle of black lesbians who date other black lesbians is in any city, regardless of size.
Then you've got to do some subtraction: Take out the studs, the stems who only date fems, the fems who only date fems, the fems who are too aggressive for my liking, the fems are too submissive and/or prissy (not to be confused with being feminine) for my liking, the fems I don't find attractive, the fems who don't find me attractive, the fems I'm incompatible with, and the fems I've already been involved with, and who's left?
Sunday, October 3, 2010
I Only Have Myself to Blame
I'm sure those of you that follow me on Twitter are wondering what happened to me and Coco. We seemed to be doing so well on our road to working things out again.
Yeah, well....I thought so, too. But one day, Coco hits me with "We can't do this again."
I, totally bewildered, of course, ask what it is that we can't do.
"This," she says. "I don't want us to be two people stringing together as many good days as we can. I want to be with you, but that's not going to work for me. I need more than that."
Well, that sucks, because I can't give her more than that right now. And I only have myself to blame because she broke up with me because she was taking my advice.
Coco was my lil' parrot. She isn't much for the innanets, but she'd literally read over my shoulder and comment as I typed and responded, as she was doing when I basically responded to Laconic Icon's situation with C by saying it's the closed mouth's own fault if it doesn't get fed. And Coco, as you all know, is hungry for a ring and a family, and that's a meal that's not on my menu.
I'm not, in truth, not terribly surprised. I mean, this is why I broke up with her initially. We wanted - and, apparently, still want - two different things, and I'd never want to keep her from being truly happy and fulfilled. "You were right," Coco told me. "That first time. You were right." Never thought being right would suck so much.
I'm just a little sad and numb, right now. I miss her so much. My heart hurts. My arms are empty.
I know that this is it. Her mind is made up, and we both know it's for the best. I don't think we can be friends. That only leads to us fucking, which only leads to us getting back together, which only leads to...this. So the cycle breaks here.
I'm coping like I always do. Doing a lot of flirting, burying my pain between the thighs of the girl I call in times of sorrow. That only happened once, though. The sex is great, but it doesn't help. The old me would have kept fucking her 'til it did help, but I guess I've grown up.
All I need now is for the scent of Dolce & Gabbana to fade from my pillow and favorite sweater.
Yeah, well....I thought so, too. But one day, Coco hits me with "We can't do this again."
I, totally bewildered, of course, ask what it is that we can't do.
"This," she says. "I don't want us to be two people stringing together as many good days as we can. I want to be with you, but that's not going to work for me. I need more than that."
Well, that sucks, because I can't give her more than that right now. And I only have myself to blame because she broke up with me because she was taking my advice.
Coco was my lil' parrot. She isn't much for the innanets, but she'd literally read over my shoulder and comment as I typed and responded, as she was doing when I basically responded to Laconic Icon's situation with C by saying it's the closed mouth's own fault if it doesn't get fed. And Coco, as you all know, is hungry for a ring and a family, and that's a meal that's not on my menu.
I'm not, in truth, not terribly surprised. I mean, this is why I broke up with her initially. We wanted - and, apparently, still want - two different things, and I'd never want to keep her from being truly happy and fulfilled. "You were right," Coco told me. "That first time. You were right." Never thought being right would suck so much.
I'm just a little sad and numb, right now. I miss her so much. My heart hurts. My arms are empty.
I know that this is it. Her mind is made up, and we both know it's for the best. I don't think we can be friends. That only leads to us fucking, which only leads to us getting back together, which only leads to...this. So the cycle breaks here.
I'm coping like I always do. Doing a lot of flirting, burying my pain between the thighs of the girl I call in times of sorrow. That only happened once, though. The sex is great, but it doesn't help. The old me would have kept fucking her 'til it did help, but I guess I've grown up.
All I need now is for the scent of Dolce & Gabbana to fade from my pillow and favorite sweater.
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