Showing posts with label sex in black relationships. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sex in black relationships. Show all posts

Wednesday, November 15, 2017

Why I Dislike Porn

Cleanliness Is Next To Godliness: I bathe before sex and expect the woman to do the same. No exceptions. To me, the smell of a woman is an important part of surrendering sexual desire. There's nothing like perspiration combined with the natural aroma of a woman. I ask: How am I supposed to plant kisses from head to toe during foreplay if I'm forced to hold my breath the entire time? Seeing as how I believe in enjoying a woman's body for hours at a time, I am quick to take a rain check at the slightest hint of odor. So, while filming, I assume the cameramen wear gas masks.

Faking The Funk: The sounds exiting the mouth of a woman completely manhandled in bed arouses me in a tremendous manner. Once my physical actions are synced with her physical reactions, and vice verse, it's only a matter of time before our bodies are locked in ecstasy. This, for the most part, is a sign of making love in climatic, gasping-for-air fashion. So, whenever I'm inside of a woman whose Moan Game is off-key, it leaves me feeling as if she's in bed with someone other than myself. 

Porn recalls this fact.

Eye Shot: Ladies: I hold sympathy for any woman trusting men involved in situations that cannot be trusted. In other words, The Eye Shot. 

Or, Superman Gone Wrong. 

Every woman knows that men are most vulnerable at their weakest points - it goes without saying. So, when feeling like the strength has been drained from his body, how does the woman expect the man to aim with precision? It's impossible and therefore explains why his load ends up missing her mouth, catching her in the eye. Which is fine, I guess, if it occurs behind closed doors and not on camera where one can hardly tell if the woman is crying or what?

Tears aren't as thick, I suppose.


Phylicia Rashad

Claire Huxtable: Yes. Claire Huxtable is one of the main reasons I'd never cared for porn. Strange, I know. But long before I lost my virginity, I wondered how sex will be. And, due to The Cosby Show, I fantasized immensely about this sweet, chocolate woman. Lord knows I did. There were no sexual thoughts aimed towards daughter Denise as one would expect, at my pre-adolescence. No, it was always Claire. 

In my mind, Mrs. Huxtable is the definition of a woman in all her magic, glory; as sexy and classy and jazzy and fierce as they come.

That said, can you possibly imagineClaire Huxtable in a porno flick? 

Me neither. 

So there is no point in watching, far as I'm concerned.


Lack of Chase: I love the chase. In my opinion, it's the most important element of seduction. The greatest love stories ever told were born through desire, being desired. It creates the foundation on which relationships are born, honored. It also teaches how to give and receive which is the core of all relationships. While removing her clothes, I do so, slowly, reminiscing upon each and every sexual thought encountered and entertained, beforehand. All of which speaks of pure bliss and enjoying the fruits of one's labor. I appreciate women who force men to work hard for them. 

Alas, Tupac Shakur said it best: I don't want it if it's that easy. 

Doesn't Stimulate My Mind: Contrary to popular belief I'm more of the Romeo & Juliet type. As far as soul-stirring goes, it's the love story which gets me every time. I'm drawn to Boy meets Girl, Boy falls in love with Girl, Boy and Girl live happily-ever-after fairy tales. Even if they are just that - tales. It's the women of substance I adore which, in a way, is comparable to home-cooked meals prepared to the delight of the man's taste buds. Due to the fact, much of a woman's ingredients or "sauce" is lost in porn. 

Insecurity:  A woman once assured me that size isn't everything; it's all about the motion of the ocean. But what can I possibly do to a woman that has slept with a baseball bat? Some, the entire bullpen. I mean, seriously. What can I do? Give her a glove? Listen, I'm not the captain of the ship, although I am on the boat. Just not the Titanic, like these porn dudes.

Everyone Had Everyone: Having sex is dangerous. Having sex with any and everyone, even more dangerous, especially unprotected sex. To the day, I'm proud of the fact I've never been to a clinic, and prefer to keep that way. Too many sexual partners and women start resembling empty buckets. 

Blame society. 

And sexually-transmitted diseases found within society. 

Some deadly. 

True enough, no one knows exactly who walks around carrying a bullet in their bloodstream, but if you've ever watched a porno flick, it's obvious those playing [the sexual version of] Russian Roulette.

Bad Acting: So bad, in fact, that during the acting parts you can mute the volume and never miss a thing which is amusing in itself once you realize the characters and script consists mainly of neighbor knocks on door, neighbor asks to borrow a cup of sugar, neighbor invites neighbor inside kitchen, neighbors begin having sex atop kitchen counter. 

The End.

Close Up Shot: The worst. As undramatic and anti-climatic as they come, similar to water doused onto flames which doesn't bode well, audience-wise, seeing as how one expects mental stimulation or emotional capture during sexual acts. With porn, the emotional becomes lost the minute; no I'm sorry, the second certain things are flashed into the viewer's face i.e. nappy, dusty-looking pubic hairs, rashes below the navel area, scars. 

Not to mention the endless amount of spider webbed tattoos along the woman's lower back, hips, thighs. 


Those are stretchmarks? Oh.

Friday, September 12, 2014

The Arms of Orion



"They could contemplate the entire Universe or just one Star." - Prince

There is much to be written about intimacy. 
unfortunately, true intimacy cannot be expressed in words. 
In order to assess such amorously deep understanding, 
one must become conscious of all that is not being heard. 
true intimacy is conceived at the soul.
from what I was told: whenever a man and woman are in love, 
they will know.
It will show.
no words need to be spoken.
similar to the manner in which you peer effortlessly inside of me, 
my entire being.
understanding the positive force requiring nurturance,
versus the negative energy in need of freeing.
seeing me, 
at my core; naked. 
the way my DNA is set up...
not too many can take it. 
I am not of this world. 

a perfect example: when we role play;  and I am the student, 
and you are the teacher.
I'd bring a juicy red apple to your classroom every morning,
but only if I'm allowed to sit and watch you eat it. 
or when I underline and you italicize.
such emphasis.
or when I write in bold letters,
and you go back and quietly place periods where I left run-on sentences. 
or when I dot the i's and you cross the t's,
or when I write between the lines...
and you edit me. 
you copy me, even. 
like, the times you furrow your brow and beam intensely into my eyes,
as if you are trying to hypnotize me.
leaving me in tears, 
laughing hysterically, 
trying to use my otherworldly gift against me.
but you are from Earth, though,  
and need oxygen to breathe.
I am sure we agree upon that. 

Thursday, August 14, 2014

And God Created Woman

"You're a sinner I don't care." - Prince

Let a woman be a woman, man be a man.
That is the plan as much as the case.
And nowhere does it say woman more than the man's hands gripped tightly onto the woman's waist, head buried between her thighs.
Tongue flung deeply into her abyss.
Caught up in the rapture, although some might describe this feeling as bliss.
The area of both pleasure and pain, as the fruits of the man's labor produce warm juices that flow throughout his addicted, fiend-like veins.
Providing oxygen to the woman's innermost desires.
Flicking the flames, slowly igniting the fire.
Penetrating.
Stimulating.
Like, a well-written introduction.
Setting the stage for her rift to explode into volcanic eruption.
Treating the woman's clitoris as if it were a canvas. 
Peep game.
The man's tongue  substitutes as a paintbrush, yet not all portraits are the same.
Not all artists are trained, either.
Some are born with The Gift.
Somewhere on God's green earth lies a man creating an absolute masterpiece between a pair of fat and juicy pussy lips,
as if his name is Leonardo da Vinci.
Did not Mona Lisa smile? 
Does not her face glow? 
Is not there a look of satisfaction within her eyes that speaks of the curliest of toes? 
Before the gust of strong wind settles into a gentle breeze,
it sweeps in and around the forest of suspecting, unsuspecting trees.
Blowing ferociously, disturbing leaves along the way.
Bending limbs, branches intertwined.
Wrapping up and slipping safely inside is the only thing on my mind.
As a man, there is something to be said regarding the opposite sex.
Although thousands upon thousands of years have passed since Adam and Eve,
and that which transpired in the Garden of Eden,
I can't quite conjure the words yet.
But I digress.
Then wander away like the mind of a woman subjected to horrible oral sex.
A far cry from the woman whose hands are filled with her own nipples and breast.
Intensely engaged, body completely covered in lust.
"Baby please hurry, cause I'm ready to ..."
And that's when the man tightens the grip on the woman's hips and thighs, and really bears down.
Until the woman's brain spins, around and around. 
Until his mouth makes slurping, smacking sounds. 
Until her eyes roll into the back of the head. 
Until his jaws start numbing and she's seconds away from succumbing. 
Until her lips quiver and body shivers,
Until the woman places a Kung Fu grip atop the man's forehead,
and her soul had been delivered...

She had longed for this feeling for as long as she could remember.

Tuesday, October 8, 2013

Top Ten Reasons Women Know Men Are In Love

"We don't see things as they are, we see them as we are." - Anais Nin




10. He lets down the toilet seat


9. He no longer claims to had never heard his phone ringing and replies to all text messages


8. You are no longer his "good time" girl, as he now shows honorable things never witnessed beforehand


7. All he does is think of you


6. He shows you off to friends and family


5. He keeps both heads firmly in the game and never steps out of bounds onto sidelines


4. He holds the ultimate respect for you as a woman, things which mattered only to you now matters to him


3. He values companionship, spends quality time and no longer avoids you during that time of month


2. He no longer begins sentences with "I" or "You," it's "We"


...and the Number One reason that a woman will know if the man is in love: By his actions - action still speaks louder than words

Thursday, August 22, 2013

Scandalous

"All the world's a stage, all the men and women merely players." - Shakespeare


For awhile now, in nearly every direction turned, I've heard rave reviews concerning the wildly popular ABC drama series Scandal. As one who loves discreditable action as much as the next, I could hardly wait to plant my mental into the television screen and join conversations regarding the Shonda Rhimes-developed program starring Kerry Washington. The excitement of it all reminded me of ado previously reserved for HBO's The Wire, which in my humble opinion is the greatest TV drama these eyes had ever witnessed. Unlike David Simon's shakespearean-like creation, Scandal failed to keep me engaged. Unsure of whether it was the show's highly unlikely premise or just as unbelievable characters, I could never get past the first episode. Fortunately, in the process, Scandal forced me to reflect upon a real-life situation that threatens to cause public disgrace and rock the lives of those entangled to their very core.

Let me explain. My cousin Adrian and his girlfriend Leah - parents of three young children, have been involved in a supposedly committed relationship for the past decade. If I had to say whether they are madly in love with one another, I'd answer no. But truth be told, after so many years, it's mostly about the strong predilection for family anyhow. Around this point of involvement, the majority of couples hide behind the guise of relationship while experiencing beautiful bliss in the arms of others. I can certainly name a few. I've heard, witnessed, and once experienced enough to know that relationships amid respective side pieces can be accomplished, and quite well, at that. 

Adrian, Leah and I share mutual friends. Among them, a male relative on Adrian's dad side of the family as well as a homeboy from around the way.

I had known Leah, beforehand. She and a female relative of mine played basketball on the same team in college. We shared small talk, here and there, mainly about hoops as she proved to be a good conversationalist in the area of sports. Years later, upon hearing Leah and Adrian were dating, I felt the two had all the makings of a solid couple. Neither were too fast nor too slow. Each held the same medium, which is underrated in all affairs. Or so I thought, before hearing that Leah and Adrian's homeboy had recently been spotted entering a motel room while Adrian was out of town on a business trip. Shocked, I rushed over to Adrian's home, pulled Leah aside and quietly asked if the rumor was truth. To my surprise, she confirmed. I couldn't help but wonder why she admitted a secret so devastating to her boyfriend's cousin. I mean, he and I are blood. 

Is she that reckless? Does she trust me? Probably both. No other claims whatsoever can be made for it. 

Afterward, I stood in complete silence. All I could think about - beside the pathetic smirk which flashed across her face - was the hell that stood to break loose once everything came to light. Driven by one question in particular, I demanded to know how she partook in such an awful thing, considering countless numbers of women and men remain stuck inside penitentiaries and buried in graveyards as a direct result of comparable acts. Isn't there enough trouble in the world? She explained that she had known Adrian's friend long before knowing Adrian. 

Whatever that meant. 

Now that I knew the truth, Leah hoped I wouldn't repeat her words to Adrian. Really? Apparently she is naive about how men constantly brag to others after having drilled another man's woman. In order to calm fears on her behalf, I looked into her sneaky eyes and insisted that her pussy is her pussy and only she possessed the God-given right to share her womb with whomever she damn well pleased. If Leah secretly felt that she could be involved with a man, yet double as the lay of the land to others, then what could I or anyone else really do? I will not be the one to tell. Besides, I am a firm believer in the adage that everything done in the dark will eventually come to light. The light has a way of revealing inconsistencies between one's actions and one's words. It does, I assure. 

As I drove away, I looked at everything from my cousin's point of view. The mother of his children slept with his friend. Of all things. Of all people. Yet I refused to enter into his expected bitch-I-cannot-believe-you-did-this-to-me line of thought. No, I overlooked the anger and viewed from a humane standpoint. Since I had found myself in a similar position nearly 8 years ago, I knew how these type of volatile situations where emotions are running high can become inhumane in a matter of seconds. Not that I am a humanitarian, but I understand empathetic situations call for empathetic voices. So what could I possibly say to Adrian that might allow him to remain cool, calm and collected the moment visions of his baby mom completely manhandled in bed by his friend entered into the back of his mind?

That even Jesus wept? 

As men, we might could "man up" or overcome base emotions to a scarring situation if afforded the opportunity. Meaning, Leah and only Leah must sit down and come clean to Adrian. Telling the honest to God truth assures that one is willing to end deception, put it all behind and move forward. Lies offer the complete opposite while leading to more lies, contempt. Scandal. If I have learned but two things in life: Honesty goes a long ways. Tact, even farther. Of course Adrian cheated on Leah numerous times, so although he believes she is faithful - perception isn't always reality. Reality is always reality. It happened, and the truth of the matter is that he can either end the relationship or stay. Neither of which is easy by any pull of the imagination. Maybe it's karma? Perhaps an act so incredibly daft was so richly deserved? I cannot say. My lone concern is that Adrian doesn't allow heartache to disable and paralyze and throw him completely off his square. 

Interestingly enough, I stopped by a local recording studio to listen to Adrian's cousin lay a couple of tracks for an upcoming mixtape. He asked me to hold his cell phone as he prepared to go inside the vocal booth. Suddenly remembering that he had returned days before from a family trip to Disney World, I asked the lock code in order to browse photos. While browsing, I somehow stumbled across a couple of nude pics of a woman and her private parts. Amazingly, the sista in the pictures was no other than Leah...

Just scandalous


Thursday, August 8, 2013

When You Think You Are In Love, You Only See What You Want To See

"And all I see is me for you and you for me." - Mary J. Blige

  • Can we get much higher? There is an ascending space which she and I unconsciously enter, at our own pace, quite often, that I cannot place my finger in an exact manner. Within that expanse lies two imperfect souls, perfectly intertwined, assuming the like-minded presence of each other to the point where we embody each other's spirit in a way that speaks of unspoken bond. I'm asking - this must be what Heaven feels like? If only we could occupy said interval 24 hours a day, seven days a week, three hundred sixty five days a year for the rest of our lives. Hopefully. Our fingers are crossed. 

  • There was a point in time in my life where, upon request of my opinion of "love," I'd fit all I learned along the journey within a nice and neat window of six months. Reason being, I figured 180 days to be roughly the amount of time it took before the magic spell had become worn and all involved to learn whatever tricks, however clever. Nowadays, I no longer subscribe to such premature philosophy. I now view love as either feelings anew, the awakening or re-awakening of past production. If asking, love, true love, of the I-cannot-get-enough-of-you variety hardly transpires until long after "love" has passed. Think about it. 

  • Two childhood friends of mine, male and female, are dating and have been connected since I reluctantly introduced them a couple of years ago. Often times, or whenever their planets are mis-aligned, one or both will beat on my door in search of opinion toward a matter of the heart. Like, I am supposed to know something neither of them do. Since I am the link who saw pieces of their respective puzzles that might possibly fit, I am required to wholeheartedly lend an ear. No problem. I do much of the same whenever my relations leaves me feeling as if there is a part of the game I am unaware of. Lately, I have dodged said conversations. Why? From what I was told - if the first few talks yield similar results, then it's no longer considered as a heart-to-heart talk; it's a wrap.

  • Something I noticed among quite a few friends and family alike these past few years that now has me thinking more than ever. Is it me or has anyone else noticed how many people negatively complain about their significant other - even insisting to be permanently finished, only to remain proudly in the relationship while enduring much of the same? And by much of the same, I reference uncertainty, financial strain, cheating, STDs, children born outside of the relationship, public humiliation, intimidation, fear, verbal and sometimes physical abuse. Then, interestingly enough, they are somehow appalled once you lose respect for them and their misguided view of a relationship. For real though.

  • You know what I love? Being actively good to a woman actively good to me. Personally speaking, this is pretty much the bottom line surrounding the romanticism of the Male/Female perspective. Whether single, courting, dating, engaged, happily or unhappily unmarried, divorced, widowed, celibate or participating within one or more sexual relationships, at the end of the day, I believe the common denominator among each equation is that everyone walking this Earth simply wants someone to whom they can positively respond. Theoretically, all every human really wants in this cold world is to be happy. Word to Mary.

  • As a man, there is something worthy of note, regarding a woman's body in the sense of one who looks at fine works of art hanging in a good gallery. Whereupon I constantly find myself wondering why the crown jewels of a woman aren't listed as one of The Seven Wonders of the World. From the firm softness of a woman's legs, hips and ass cheeks to the sweet intimacy of her breasts, neck and shoulder area, eyes, smile. If the woman comes equipped with a walk that enhances her physical features, then you just know the angels cried joyous tears at God's final and perhaps greatest creation. Besides water, I honestly cannot think of anything God placed on Earth more satisfying to men than women.

  • Lastly, I endured a man-to-man exchange with my younger brother recently concerning a woman that has him "caught up." Based on previous discussions, this woman had sex with a man on the first night and continued to sleep with him during and after her previous relationship. Not only that, but she brags to girlfriends about sleeping with a porn star-dick friend from college (among others), yet assuring my brother that he experiences trust issues. Lately, one of the dudes referred to him as a "clown." I agreed. Truth be told, it's no longer on the woman. She understands her slutty role matter-of-factly with men in general. So it's  all on my sibling, as it appears her sweetest of lies led him to go against better judgment which, I learned firsthand, disrupts one's spirit. I gave my blood the real in hopes that he wakes up, open his eyes and walks away. On principle alone, it defies logic for any man to attempt to turn a ho into a housewife. The other hard dicks in the transparent woman's life discerned the fact, so why doesn't my brother?

Monday, June 17, 2013

Let a Woman be a Woman and a Man be a Man

"And they listen to me when I talk, cause I ain't pretending." - Beyonce



Love how we discuss everything under the Sun. I am an avid listener, allowing me to appreciate the subtle presence of another one. I enjoy the intimacy that open and honest communication brings; the understanding, the chemistry, the combination of which leads to other things. Like impromptu duets in the shower, knowing damn well that neither one of us can sing. Yet, absolutely adoring the endless amount of laughter it brings. Organic energy, a language of our very own. Not to mention being stuck at work as the radio plays your lover's favorite song. Suddenly able to smell her natural scent, mixed with naughtiness, and a slight touch of after-shower evening body mist. I close my eyes and quietly reminisce...

So then, the sexting begins. Somewhat conservative, at first. Then liberal, and then downright politically-incorrect. Impatience. Becoming more aggressive within each text. Same window, exact same agenda. Taking a wild guess, I'd say she encourages such illicitness, based on how well it translates in bed. She isn't looking for a politician though. She insisted their kind told lies and only came around in search of votes. Instead, she seeks a man to implement his policy up close and personal on a daily basis. She abhors actors, recalling how often they forgot their lines. Either that, or flipped the script altogether and she simply doesn't have time. The Art of Imply, thoroughly mastered. For instance, sly remarks about how she was unable to sleep the night before due to constant tossing and turning, and what sounded like a woman moaning amid the smell of condoms burning. Using my words against me. Apparently, she majored in reverse psychology...

She begins by sending a flirtatious text commenting on how she's wearing a sundress and wanting me to guess if she's without bra or underwear. A thought tossed willingly in the air, out of nowhere. Followed by a winking emoticon that flashes a smile which causes me to take a deep breath and stare into the immediate distance. Apparently, she's proud of her God-given ability to get me aroused, while turning around and calmly settling me all the way down. Claiming she cannot believe she texted that question  in the first place. Asking if I needed a towel or something to wash these thoughts off my face. Teasing me. Just like a woman. All of which adds even more passion to my touch, a quickly shifting force to my thrusts. Like the cue ball staring the 8 from the back, sizing it up mentally, anxiously awaiting its physical contact. A game of inches, for all intended purposes. The anticipation of it all forces the beat of my heart to race into a thousand different places. Including spaces I never knew existed. Penetrating, resonating long after her panties are conclusively torn away...

Similar to skillfully planted kisses, there is no doubt she majored in Psychology as she comes with zero apologies. Sounds like a grown woman to me. One that's not afraid. One that learned quite well, page by page. Whenever a woman is able to carefully maneuver a man's imagination, to the point where he pays full attention to every word she is saying, where he knows she is not playing. There is something to be said. I must say. She knows the exact words and, most importantly, how to properly convey. In a way where she creates mood, sets the stage. Not only do we complete each other's sentences, we encourage each other's thoughts. A superb narrative that leaves our conscience simultaneously lost, wrapped within intense layers of unapologetic lust. The bed's set afire seconds after the lights are turned off. I reflect upon thy countless ways I cannot resist. Moments revealed, enforced, sealed with a kiss. Pure bliss. Sweetest of ecstasy. Awakening in the middle of the night to her drained body cuddled next to me. No other place I'd rather be. A desire which, as it turns out, summons a second wind... 

Clearly, I cannot wait until the work day ends. 

Thursday, May 30, 2013

If I Have Never Told You Before

"Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don't know how to replenish its source." - Anais Nin



You are so strikingly beautiful,
utmost pleasure to one's eyes,
after all of these years, I take one look at you and remain hypnotized.
a natural born goddess; dare I say the earth is your turf,
stars perfectly aligned the moment birthed.

I wonder if you still feel the softness of my eyes, roaming your entire presence, 
expanded lungs, inhaling your terribly sweet essence.
exhale is met with tense desire; so hard to ignore,
butterflies swarming nervously inside of my stomach,
I am passionately yours.

If I have never told you before, 
I adore our emotional connection; the reasons why, 
intimacy defines the core of you and I. 
the invaluable manner in which all thoughts are heard,
how we've communicated, despite not having uttered a single word. 

Perhaps this is the reason you remain constantly in mind, 
a certain vibe survives us,
a commanding understanding describes us.
no pretense, no deceit, 
we give each other exactly what we need; no make-believe, 
we thoroughly add up.

If I have never told you, allow me to apologetically begin,
long before we ever spent one second together, 
I always knew we'd become lovers, friends.
our paralleled pasts led me to wholeheartedly believe,
two souls powerfully connected,
based upon the simplest of need.

Love; pure and unconditional, eternally,
exactly how love is meant to be.
carefree, conduit, built upon humility,
full immunity; not prosecuted into futility. 
our bond developed an encouraged confidence.
true happiness, indispensable bliss.

where I am perfectly free to be my imperfect self, 
regardless of any, everything else.
with you, I can be open and honest; never taken for granted,
compassion nurtures the seeds that we've faithfully planted, 
as our growth continues on and on,
standing upright, strong,

They say, if you look deeply into a person's eyes,
you can peer into their soul,
and discern between emptiness and a spirit that overflows.
I've done as much, while holding you in warm embrace,
causing my heart to skip a beat;
momentarily taking my breath away.

Tuesday, October 2, 2012

Poetry: There's A Man In My Dreams by Guest Blogger Kari Campbell



There's a man in my dreams,
stealing my sleep,
sprinkling my covers with sensuality,
moans of pleasure caress my pillowcase.

There's a dark-skinned man in my dreams,
disturbing my doze,
chiseled from the mold of David,
glistening from moisture dripping sweat over my body.

There's a tall dark-skinned man in my dreams,
troubling my waters,
twisting and turning and dipping his back,
the faint moonlight highlighting every muscle in his chest.

There's a tall, dark handsome man in my dreams,
rocking my boat,
gazing into my eyes then whispering in my ear,
"I wanna make your dreams come true."

There's a tall, dark-skinned man in my dreams,
savoring my climax,
licking his lips and placing his head between my hips,
arms wrapped around my thighs.

There's a dark skinned man in my dreams,
holding my heart,
laying his head between my breasts,
melting away into a dream of me.

There's a woman in his dreams,
stealing his sleep,
sprinkling his covers with seduction,
cascading moans of pleasure through an empty room.

There's a brown skinned woman in his dreams.



To view more of Kari Campbell PhD, feel free to check her site: DrKariCampbell.com and follow on Twitter:  @dr_kari

Monday, June 25, 2012

I Have Yet To Meet A Man Who Can Stand Up To It

"Man down." - Rihanna


By now, I'm sure everyone has read or overheard conversation regarding the recent public altercation between Chris Brown and Drake which, allegedly, centered around Rihanna.

Two men fighting over a woman? Nothing new. Men have brawled over such divine passion since the beginning of time. God knew exactly what He did when He created woman. As most men will attest, there is something so matter-of-fact about a woman's touch which completely snatches the soul of man.

Men love women, we lust them.

Had God created two Adams both would've eventually come to blows over Eve, as men everywhere have conducted themselves in aggressive manner, attributable to the affection of women. As often as it comes up in the bible, you'd think mankind would just take it as a given by now.

Rihanna, though, isn't the only girl in the world, despite appearing as such to Brown and Drake. Platinum-selling recording artists, rich and popular enough to enjoy a significant portion of women in the world. Assuming, of course, they haven't already. Which begs the question of what makes Rihanna so different? What exactly does she possess those other women didn't? I'm not sure. But whatever it is, one man clearly doesn't want the other to have.

If I had to say - whenever men result to physical confrontation over women it's usually a case of being weakened by the power of a woman's pussy. Which isn't to suggest there is anything wrong with being pussywhooped. So, no need to be ashamed. Some women just know how to crack their whip appeal in a way that slowly removes a man's willpower and transforms him into a slave.

As witnessed.

I imagine there are many who, to the day, continue to ridicule Chris Brown for allowing Rihanna to control his life in godawful fashion. However, unlike slavery, tragedy doesn't lie in the whipped man. No, real sorrow lies within the hearts of men who haven't experienced as much.

Think about it. At some point in our respective lives, we, as men, all lay it down for women.

I believe the correct term is marriage?

Wednesday, May 30, 2012

Ten Reasons I Dislike Porn

Cleanliness Is Next To Godliness: I always bathe before sex and expect the woman to do the same. No exceptions. For myself, the smell of a woman is an important part of surrendering unto sexual desire. There's nothing like perspiration combined with clean, natural aroma of a woman. I ask - how am I supposed to plant kisses from head to toe during foreplay if I'm forced to hold my breath the entire time? Seeing as how I also believe in enjoying her body for hours at a time I am quick to take a rain check, at the slightest hint of odor. While filming, I assume the cameramen wear gas masks.

Faking The Funk: The sound exiting the mouth of a woman completely manhandled in bed, arouses me in a tremendous manner. Once my physical actions are synced with her physical reactions - and vice verse, it's only a matter of time before our bodies are locked in total ecstasy. This, for the most part, a sign of making love in climatic, gasping-for-air fashion. Whenever I'm inside of a woman whose Moan Game is so off key that it leaves me feeling as if she's in bed with someone other than myself ... all bets are off. Porn recalls this fact.

Eye Shot: Ladies, I hold sympathy for any woman trusting a man involved in a situation that simply cannot be trusted. In other words, The Eye Shot. Or, Superman Gone Wrong. Or, give it to me baby like, "Boom. boom. boom." Forgive me, the visual makes me laugh. Every woman knows that a man is most vulnerable at his weakest point - goes without saying. So, how does the woman expect the man to aim with precision? It's impossible, and explains why the load ends up missing the mouth and catching her in the eye. Which is fine, I guess, if it occurs behind closed doors and not on camera where one can hardly tell if the woman is crying or what. Tears aren't as thick.

Phylicia Rashad
Claire Huxtable: Yes. Claire Huxtable is one of the main reasons I've never cared for porn. Strange, I know. But long before I lost my virginity, I often wondered how sex will be. And, due to The Cosby Show, I fantasized immensely about that sweet, chocolate woman. Lord knows I did. There were no sexual thoughts aimed towards daughter Denise, as one would expect - it was always Claire. In my mind, Mrs. Huxtable was the definition of a woman. In all her magic. As sexy and classy and jazzy and fierce as they come. Insatiable, even. Now, can you imagine seeing Claire Huxtable in a porno flick? Me neither. So there is no point in watching, far as I'm concerned.


Lack of Chase: I love the chase. In my opinion, it's the most important element of seduction. The greatest love stories ever told are born through desire, being desired. It creates the foundation on which relationships are born, and honored. I believe it also teaches how to give and receive, the core of relationship. While finally removing her clothes, I do so, slowly, as I reminisce upon each and every sexual thought encountered, beforehand. All of which speaks of pure bliss and enjoying the fruits of one's labor. Alas, I appreciate women who force men to work hard for 'em.

Doesn't Stimulate My Mind: Contrary to popular belief I'm more of a Romeo & Juliet type of guy. Far as soul-stirring goes, it's the love story which gets me, every time. I am thoroughly drawn to the Boy meets Girl, Boy falls in love with Girl, Boy and Girl live happily-ever-after fairy tale. Even if they are just that - tales. I absolutely adore women of substance. Which, in a way, is comparable to a home-cooked meal prepared to the delight of one's taste buds. I fully understand acquired taste. So therefore a simple piece of meat never compares. Due to the fact, much of a woman's ingredients are lost in pornography.

Insecurity:  A woman once assured me that size isn't everything. It's all about the motion of the ocean. But what can I possibly do to a woman that has slept with a baseball bat? The entire bullpen, at that. I mean, seriously. What can I do? Give her a glove? Listen, I'm not the captain of the ship, although I am on the boat. Just not the Titanic, like these porn dudes.

Everyone Had Everyone: Having sex is dangerous. Having sex with any and everyone - even more dangerous. Especially unprotected sex. Til the day I'm proud of the fact that I've never been to a clinic, and prefer to keep that way. Too many sexual partners, and women start resembling pieces of meat. Blame society. And sexually-transmitted diseases found within society. Some, deadly. True enough, no one knows who walks around carrying a bullet in their bloodstream. But if you've ever watched a porno flick, it's quite obvious the ones playing the sex version of Russian Roulette.

Bad Acting: So bad, in fact, that during the acting parts you can remove the volume and never miss a thing. Which is amusing in itself once you realize the characters and script consists mainly of neighbor knocks on door, neighbor asks to borrow a cup of sugar, neighbor invites neighbor inside kitchen, neighbors begin having sex atop kitchen counter. The End.

Close Up Shot: The worst. As undramatic and anti-climatic as they come, similar to water doused onto fiery flames. Which doesn't fare well, audience-wise, seeing as how there is a certain intensity surrounding sexual acts. One involving mental stimulation, just as much as emotional capture. The emotional becomes lost the minute - no I'm sorry, the second certain things are flashed into the viewer's face i.e. nappy, dusty-looking pubic hairs, rashes below the navel area, scars. Not to mention the endless amount of spider web tattoos along the woman's lower back, hips, thighs. Those are stretchmarks? Oh.

Tuesday, May 8, 2012

Don't Forget About Tomorrow

If you hold genuine affection for a certain person in your life, allow me to give a little unsolicited advice as it pertains to matters of the heart.

The same sincere advice I wished I'd been given, oh, once upon a time...

Stop the bullshit. Seriously. Stop allowing complete insignificance; things which hold little or no importance whatsoever, to play such a major role.

Regardless of whatever it is.

Stop sabotaging the wanted relationship, and enjoy that person with every fiber of your being. All the back and forth action ever does is waste precious time better spent showing affection towards one another, instead of standing on the sidelines wishing you were in the game.

Unless you've never heard of death you should have already realized, by now, life isn't promised. One day we are here the next day, gone! As the case it's safe to assume our time on Earth is limited, although actions often suggest otherwise. However, do not be the one to reflect upon how more time was spent apart than together, for whatever reasons.

Moreover, stop hurting the one you love.

Perhaps an argument took place which left you feeling somewhat slighted and feelings bruised? So what. After enough time has passed, I am willing to bet the two of you hardly remembered why the verbal disagreement began. A conclusion which thoroughly suggests the emotional rift never concerned too much of anything significant in the first place.

Yet, foolish pride prevented you from being true to the complete satisfaction felt beforehand. Had you been, it wouldn't have been anything for you to pick up the phone and mend reconcilable differences. Better yet, accept such heartfelt apology as they proved to be the bigger person.

Instead, and due to bouts of loneliness, the object of your desire became involved with someone  and never wanting to appear outdone, you went and did the same. Well, at least you tried to do the same. But soon found rebounded love isn't so kind. Incredibly, you now take more off the latter than the former. A truth which leads you to reminisce all the warm and inspiring qualities regarding your ex.

Especially when their favorite song seems to stay on the radio, almost if a conspiracy of some sort.

After eventually deciding to dial their number, hoping to rekindle the flame ... you find yourself surprisingly out in the cold. Not only do you hear the happiness found within their voice, loud and clear. But any chance of reconciliation is thrown out the window, along with your bleeding heart, once informed that saying how you feel is no longer allowed. And it's best that you lose the phone number.

So, listen, if there's a special person in your life who you truly love with all your heart I suggest you do just that - remain fully invested through each and every breath. If not, then you will only have yourself to blame once you've awakened one morning, yawned, noticed the time and realized, yes, a new day has come.

Wake up!

Tuesday, February 21, 2012

Letter To The Black Woman: Apology To My True Sistas



note: repost


While living in this white man's world, I admit, there are many obstacles which myself and other black men are faced with, daily. Some which knowingly exist, yet we foolishly continue to travel along the path for reasons both known and unknown. Others, we individually bring upon ourselves. All this, and it has been this way for years. Centuries, even. As long as I've walked this Earth, for sure. A fact that has led many black men to believe the world itself is evil and confused.

I personally cannot think of but one other faction whom experiences a similar hardship - the black woman.

As a black man, constantly rewinding and trying to find myself, intent in my own individual struggles, at times I fail to realize how it's not exactly paradise for black women either. All things considered, I could never walk in the shoes of a black woman. Especially once she has reached the point where she realizes she's given all she has to give. And then what?

Not only do black women have to raise our children, alone at times, but in many instances they are forced to raise a full grown man and nurture his naughty natures as well. Day in and out I witness black women who, by any means necessary, struggle to maintain their pride and dignity while cultivating little black boys and girls into strong black men and women. Unsure if the ends will justify the means or if they will succeed or not.

Still, the black woman arises to the occasion.

Many black women cope with racism, split personalities, incarceration, emotional separation, street life, untimely death, infidelity, disease, outside children, babymamadrama, young black males themselves raised within dysfunctional families with no principles of what family consist of. Uneducated brothers. Hardworking brothers who make less than herself and cannot fathom not being the man of the house. Made men who make big dollars, yet little sense.

Unemployment. Brothers who, inevitably, are but seconds away from going back to corner slanging crack. Alcohol and drug abuse. Trust issues. Paranoia. Pipe dreams. Domestic violence and countless other mental, emotional and physical epidemics. It's almost as if black men ourselves are lost and evil.

Black women suffer our problems then still have to turn around and attend their own personal business. Remember they have lives, too, consisting of their own hopes and dreams. This is the reality of the situation. In my humble opinion, this revelation is what has led to black women dating and marrying outside their race. It has also led sistas to lower their self-esteem, no longer knowing or understanding their true worth, having their brain tampered with, and in many cases, date other women.

For the less than empowering role in which I've played I would like to take the time to respectfully apologize to black women, those true sistas who strive hard to uplift and inspire our people. And not only become, but, also remain part of the solution to the ongoing problems which threaten to destroy our race.


***


Yesterday I held the door for a black woman, a complete stranger, thinking I'd performed a good deed. Sadly, the words which exited her mouth left me stunned for a moment. "I don't need you to hold the door for me," she snapped.

I paused for a second before replying, "Sorry I didn't know it was a crime."

"It isn't, I just don't have time for the bullshit."

Now, I didn't discover electricity or invent the telephone, but I have enough sense to know from her tone of voice that she was referring to the often Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde behavior so often displayed by brothers. One in which women are baited through respectful manners, only to have the man become aggressive then act disrespectful once women show how they are simply not interested in anything other than being thankful for the respect given.

Which leads me to believe that, nowadays, black men and black women have become skeptical of one another when it comes to just about everything. There is no unity. We've arrived at the point where our feelings extend far beyond the loss of words. Either that, or there aren't any feelings left.

So, this is my Letter To The Black Woman. An immediate apology to the true sistas - those of you who are far from bitches.

Saturday, January 14, 2012

Closure: You Said You'd Be The One To Set Me Free




her

if this must end,
then, i am most thankful to The Most High above,
for never in my life had i felt such a God-given love.
one born of need, raised in deep desire,
a single spark became a raging fire.

if this must end; i understand,
how can a love like ours stand a chance?
from fizzle to flame,
from worry to blame,
desperate souls seeking the same.

i guess there is more i could have done.
should have known without a doubt ...
you were the one.

if this must end, if i must go,
there is but one thing i want you to know.
i will never be too far away to hear your cries.
i will always be near; standing by.

silently applauding when it's all said and done,
the man you are, the man you've become.


him

if this must end,
then, it must end.
but know in your heart that you have earned a friend.
as your lover, hopefully, i was like no other.

apologies due for whatever pain caused,
i am not perfect; we all have flaws.
i offer no rebuttal,
only wonder if you find within your heart to forgive me for all the trouble.

i never expected us to fall in love as deeply as we did,
guess our inner beings could no longer remain hidden.
i appreciated everything you meant to me,
for one moment in time it felt like we were meant to be.

i am thankful more than i could ever show,
but if it must end,
if i must go,
there is but one thing i want you to know.

you are the definition of a woman, as intended
and never allow any man to tell you differently.



note: penned by myself and author Diane Dorce

Friday, December 30, 2011

The Thing About The Old Days: They Are The OLD Days



A strange feeling, it is, to gaze into the eyes of an ex-girlfriend - the best you've ever had, and hear the words I'm engaged fall slowly from her lips. And somehow manage anything other than a blank stare, as she extended her fingers directly in front of my face and flashed a shiny engagement ring.

I smiled, somewhat forced, due to not wanting to appear less than happy for a woman who is arguably my soulmate. I needed to gather my thoughts, momentarily. I understood how much this moment meant to Kinski, and knew she wanted me to be as happy for her as she were for herself.

Unlike exes who crossed paths where one can no longer stand the sight of the other, and loved nothing more than to parlay the encounter, Kinski showed no intentions. She had good reason. But the windows to her soul assured me that she was sincere. After sharing over 3 years of intimacy with such a beautiful woman and spirit, I should have known her to be whom she'd always claimed to be.

We hugged. Holding one another a few seconds longer than usual.

A funny thing, it is, God's sense of humor, bringing us face to face with each other, at this point in time, before the wedding, where innocence is revisited and "happily ever after" pictured within one's mind. However I doubt very seriously if I'd cared had it been another ex, and not Kinski, a woman whose mother I told I'd marry her daughter one day. This, before her mom even knew who I were. Or, before she and I had officially met.

Not even the mother of my own child garnered such compliment, actually. When Christina's mom married there were no second thoughts on my behalf. No reflections. To be honest I hardly recall the wedding day. But there was a difference with Kinski and, as usual, it could never be hidden.

A difference which forced me to recall how we once stood in front of our closest friends and family members, everyone smiling, seconds after I had proposed. It proved to be the first and only time, ever, I'd done such a thing. A crowning moment, it was. However dethroned less than a year later when I reneged on the promise to exchange vows.

Deciding to finish what I'd birthed elsewhere, instead.

An honorable deed, it is, for a man to kneel to the love of his life, asking if she'd be his wife and have him as her husband. Confessing true love to a woman who, chances are, long awaited to surrender her heart to an honest man. More than likely since the day she first experienced love. A good woman deserves such honor and respect.

Marriage - the key to a woman's heart. If not, doubt tiptoes into the back of her mind. Always the bridesmaid and never the bride, they whisper. Eventually she wonders if she's wasting precious time or, even worse, being used for sex. To the point where she now questions, what, if anything, does love have to do with it?

Everything. Yet, absolutely nothing. Especially when the man isn't or, I should say, wasn't man enough to establish the relationship in the eyes of God.

Finally, I gathered my thoughts. Took a deep breath, exhaled and released a good amount of regret. Then met her smile with a smile. Our signature piece, still. After all these years. And, to the day, proof that it's better to have loved and lost than to never had loved at all.

Congratulations, Kinski.

Tuesday, December 6, 2011

Hurt People Hurt People: It Will Only Get Worse




Thanks to A Young Woman's Expressions for guest blog.



Today, I take the first step in admitting I was mentally, emotionally, verbally abused. I always stated how women are stupid for tolerating abuse, but, here I am, a victim of abuse, although not physically. I never wanted to talk to anyone concerning what I was going through. I was in denial and felt as if I didn't have anyone to talk or listen.

During the relationship with my ex, I felt like a child. I know it sounds crazy, but I did. I was always disciplined if I did something he disliked. He'd call me stupid for not thinking the way he did, and suggest I was incapable of thinking for myself. He used non-verbal communication to punish me, instead of just talking to me about things.

He tried to train me to behave in ways in which he wanted me to behave. He gradually made me feel differently about myself - diminished my confidence. When we'd hang out or go dancing at a lounge or club or just anywhere, it was like he was my bodyguard. I couldn't dare look at anyone without him making a comment. If a guy even said hello to me in passing, he would give him an evil look. I hated going out with him, I felt smothered. I was at a point in my life where, before I made a decision, I'd worry about him getting mad at me if I didn't make the decision he thought was best.

In essence, I could no longer think for myself.

I shared every single detail about my life, and I mean EVERY detail, because he made me think if I didn't, I'd be a liar. He tested me months later to see if I purposely lied about something in the past. He never told me everything about his life, yet he knew everything about mines. There were times when we broke up, but I still never felt single.

He was in my head, literally.

I was unable to love nor care for anyone else because he made me feel guilty for not wanting to be with him. Whenever I wanted to call it quits, he made me feel like crap for doing so. Like most women, we hardly want to hurt a man's feelings, so we go crawling back. Along the way, he caused me to lose friends as well.

After a crazy episode of verbal and emotional abuse, he expressed how much he loved me and would be very loving, the next day. It was the man I wanted him to be all the time. But he wasn't. I loved when he was nice and encouraging, but, in due time, he reverted back to being the controlling, abusive man. He made me feel like no other man would love me the way he did, and that all previous relationships of mines were fake and nobody ever really loved me.

The sad thing - I actually believed him.

I became a different person.. I became verbally abusive towards him. I was angry inside and hated myself for being in the situation in the first place. I hated him for making me feel trapped. I put him down, hoping he'd just go away. Instead, he would stay even after I said mean things to him. Our back and forth's had gone on for years, even when we were friends. It became worse as time progressed and we became a couple.

I once expressed my feelings to his own mother and she told me I made him this way. Which basically made things worse, because she pretty much gave her son a pass for how he treated me. She made excuses for his behavior and advised, "Hurt people hurt people."

I am sorry, but there is no excuse for a man abusing a woman.

Although we are no longer together, he continues to put me down and deliberately wishes me harm. It's unfortunate, due to our sharing a baby. Sometimes I still feel trapped because I am forced to communicate with him on behalf of our child, and he knows this. However, NOW, now I am able to really see this man for who he is. He's out of my system and I know everything he says are merely words and have no impact on who I am.

This man has everyone fooled in thinking he's the nice guy - normally, abusers hold the ability to make others think you are crazy for telling people they are abusive. He does not respect women at all. In fact, it's so true when they say how a man treats his mother is how he will treat you. I'm living proof of this statement being truth.

Moreover, I believe alot of women stay in these type of relationships because they are looking for love. They may not have felt loved within their household growing up so they look for that man for comfort. I think that was my situation, but that's the old me. I deserve happiness and I deserve to be respected. Sometimes I sit back and think about all the wonderful men I met while I was with him, and now that the good guys are either married or in a relationship.

At times I feel a little sad, but, it’s okay, I would rather feel sad than continue to be abused. For the women out here who may be in a similar situation, it will only get worse.

Get out of the relationship if you are being abused.

Wednesday, November 23, 2011

Destiny Fulfilled?



note: repost



I imagine once he arrives home,
the very first thing he does is hug, rub you.
probably waited the entire day,
for the moment he wraps his arms around you.

always thankful for the day he found you,
no matter how your day has been, the moment when
you are within his warm embrace,
it places a soft smile upon your face.

I am sure he misses you in the worst way,
there are some things that only his desired touch can say.
I am sure he asks how your day has been,
as he patiently listens, your best friend.

once you arrived home,
you rushed to cook dinner.
during your rush to prepare something delicious to eat,
you suddenly remembered you are all out of ground beef.

as you heard him turning the key,
you are fully prepared with an excuse.
but little do you know that man has rushed home,
to prepare dinner, cater to you.

upon finish, he runs your bath water,
mildly hot, just the way you like it.
perhaps you want to be bathed, intimately,
what are you waiting for, invite him.

to wash your body in the most calm and soothing way,
only his smooth touch can provide closure to a long hard day.
would you like to watch a DVD while you enjoy your meal,
cuddle up next to him on the couch as you enjoy his feel.

you are a woman who deserves a man's complete attention,
a man willing to do everything he can to insure that love is found.
a man willing to hold you down,
great conversation, as he massages everywhere your body aches.

a man willing to do the little things which matter the most,
make you feel like a natural woman, the way a man's supposed to.
a man who washes the dishes while you prepare the kids for sleep,
helps you get ready for the next day, whatever you need.

a man willing to kneel and dedicate his life to you,
for he knows in his heart that he has found a wife in you.
I am sure your man no longer chases skirts,
he doesn't want anything to hurt what he has in you.

you are his vision of love as far as his eyes can see,
he considers you to be his gift from above, his destiny.
I am sure your man attends church and faithfully prays with you,
as he listens to his heart, it says it's you.

you are the one he cannot live without,
destiny fulfilled,
or are you still having doubts?

Monday, November 7, 2011

What's Good For The Goose Isn't Always Good For The Gander

Yesterday, the girlfriend of an ex-homeboy of mines confided she isn't faithful to her boyfriend. She admitted she cheats and will continue to do so, due to the excitement of it all.

I must say, her words didn't surprise me the least. During the past few years, other women involved in structural relationships had revealed similar testimony.

If nothing else, I'd always known she was an undercover freak. This, concluded by the porn star look written all over her face.

An expression which appeared to suggest how much she loved her some dick and, judging by the way her ass looked in a pair of nice-fitting jeans, I'd imagine dick couldn't get enough of her, either.

Knowing her boyfriend as I do, there was no doubt in my mind that her behavior was fueled and driven by his well-known reputation.

A habitual offender - I honestly cannot recall a period where he wasn't either sleeping around with an ex, one of his baby moms or mother of one of his little leaguers football team.

And the girlfriend knew, too. First-hand. Many times she'd answer his phone as these women called. Arguments ensued, for days.

So I asked, "Why do you put up with such blatant disrespect?"

"I prefer to keep my family together." She answered, intentionally avoiding eye contact.

It certainly made sense. Once upon a time I found myself in a similar position of no longer being about the relationship, as much as everything it meant on a whole.

Therefore I believed she listened as I assured that, kids or no kids, it's only so long that relationships void of emotional connections can pretend.

Soon, the newfound connection begins to feel like your significant other. While the significant other resembles a complete stranger who, somehow, shares a bed with yourself.

Even worse - the girlfriend becomes the exact same woman in life who sneaks around with men, already involved. The woman she once despised, otherwise known as The Other Woman.

A woman used basically for rough, hair-pulling, bang-your-head-into-the-headboard, hot, sweaty, brag-to-your-homeboys, sex.

All of which is unfortunate, cause it was the boyfriend who left the gate open, and allowed the emotional aspect of their relationship to leave in the first place.

Then, if that isn't enough, he himself walks away the moment he catches his girlfriend cheating. "I wish he would leave me after all of the times I've stayed and put up with his cheating ass." She stated, rather defiantly.

"He will." I assured, before ending the conversation.

Double standard, I suppose.


Monday, October 31, 2011

The Issue of Abortion: Two Different Outcomes, Two Different Emotions


Yesterday, I admitted to my days-away-from-being-18 year old daughter that I once pressured her mother into aborting the pregnancy back in the Spring of 1993.

This, after her mom passed along those past demands of mines to Christina for some strange reason, earlier in the week. Confused, I nonetheless sat and offered my perspective on the situation. And even shed insight towards my other experience on the subject of abortion, which occurred six years later.

Two different outcomes. Two different emotions.

I explained, we were young and bore zero intentions on being in a relationship nor did we need a child to confuse the fact. To put it bluntly, her mom and I basically had unprotected sex.

Judging from the look on Christina's face I could see she was saddened to hear me admit that, yes, if I had my way back then, her mom would've never given birth on the 5th day of November. A damning revelation which not only bothered Christina but myself as well. Yet, I'd hope she wouldn't take as personal as it appeared. Not then. Not now. Not ever.

Christina assured me that she understood, although I wasn't so sure. A fellow Scorpio I knew of her burning passion beneath the surface and the manner it brewed. Hopefully - on a thankful, non-rebellious level. So, in an effort to prove remorse and lesson learned, I confided how in 1999 I had impregnated another woman who wasn't exactly browsing baby names, either.

The only names expressed were the names of abortion clinics. Not to mention the countless number of times she called my name demanding I pay for said procedure.

To which I reluctantly did.

At the time I cannot say whether I wanted the child or not. I believed so. Though certainly not enough to raise all by my lonesome. Which the woman promised up until the unforgettable morning I drove to the New Orleans clinic, five and a half months later.

Yes. I already know. The fetus was pretty much developed. Christina repeated the same haunting fact. Afterwards, complete silence filled the room. There was no need for conversation. The collective looks of our face said it all.

Today, I'm fortunate to enjoy the invaluable presence that my daughter has always served in my life. Only months away from high school graduation and Navy training, I love her with all my heart. I imagine the feeling is mutual.

And there aren't too many days where I don't think about the other child as well. The one who regrettably never received the chance to live its life.

God forgive me.

Wednesday, October 5, 2011

Love/Hate

• I love those who believe in love, fall into the possibility of endless romance. I hate when that hope doesn't suffice and resulting heartbreak leaves both disenchanted, no longer able to foster such sacred belief.

• I love those who believe in love, fall into the possibility, and it proves an unbreakable bond. I hate when nearly everyone within eyesight attempts to tear it apart.

• I love whenever family and friends gather and thoroughly enjoy one another's company. I hate when, no sooner than one has left the other's presence, they're talking ish.

• I love laying besides a woman in bed; she and I cuddling, massaging; mentally, physically, emotionally relaxed, as our fave Anita Baker album plays in the background. I hate leaving my comforting position, cause the CD turned out to be scratched.

• I love whenever someone insists I cannot do something. Then, lo' and behold, I do. I hate that I am not the type of person to rub it all in their face, although I am wanting.

• I love people who completely believe in themselves. Period.

• Some women are as beautiful on the inside as they are on the outside. And, speaking of one woman in particular, I loved entering into her full complexity. I hate that I was unable to lose myself in her virtuous being.

• I love that long-time sex partner and I reached the point in our "relationship" where we abandoned lust, yet, somehow remained friends. She always claimed one day she would. In all honesty, I couldn't hate, even if I wanted.

• I love love. I hate hate.

• What do you fortunately love? What do you unfortunately hate?