Somewhere out there exists an oasis of men. You know a spot where all the fine ass brothers congregate. You know the ones that have jobs, no women on the side, all their teeth and no children. The brothers (I mean all men, not just black men) that look good in boxers, briefs and commando! They are all waiting for us to find them. This is the story of two women and their pilgrimage to MAN MECCA.POSITION OPEN
I was in my bedroom awaiting my midnight caller. That is what my love life has been reduced to. A man that does not have time for me but his career takes center stage and all others must fall into the shadow. I have become the cheerleader again, the uniform still fits and I know all the moves like second nature. “You can do it baby, find that job you love, get that money, go the distance. I will be here when you get home.” I have started out in this relationship tired. Weary already of all the effort it takes to smile for the player and rally the fans. I was never a really good cheerleader, I am the coach, the person that pushes from the sidelines but isn’t really a part of the game.
He made a comment yesterday about sculpting a mermaid out of watermelon. I agree this would have been more romantic if it were an ice sculpture, but you take what you can get. He continued by saying that some of his co-worker/underlings critiqued his work, by saying that his mermaid’s breasts were too large, and she was not wearing a bra, I was not surprised that my mounds had transcended to food but it was the typical direction that most men take. I know they are large, I was born this way and for 24 years (or since puberty at 9 years old) I have been very aware of their size. There are women out here that would give up their paychecks for the kind of cleavage that I am able to sport but breast size does not matter to me. I mean, once you have time they become overrated. Anyway, his sideways compliment was not what I was looking for and frankly I kind of wish did not verbalize them in the first place.
My part time lover status has me thinking that this is not the man for me and that I should move on with the other man meat and man meat bi-products that are on the market. I don’t want this gushy lovey dovey type relationship, where he does all the things that you read about in cheesy romance novels but a real person that talks and argues about stupid stuff, someone where I can reference real comments made rather than the implications of actions that I am not certain I fully comprehend.
We are not in love. Or at least I am not. There is nothing there, to speak of, that I can fall in love with. There are no meaningful conversations. He does not ask me about myself. My questions to him about himself are always avoided. I am a journalist at heart and this kind of avoidance only raises more questions.
I don’t know how I managed to welcome this kind of person into my life. I mean, a stray dog that I thought was cute I welcomed. Now the mutt won’t leave.
There are too many questions that I just have that remain unanswered. I deserve better than this guessing game. He has secrets, and it is as though every day I have to try to figure out what the code is for deciphering combination to his secret’s safe. It is too much. Why can’t he just be up front with me. I can’t deal, and there is a position open again.
I came home today and a friend who had read the rough draft of this letter thought it was funny and interesting enough for him to call up one of his “cousins” (can you see the problem here already) and try to hook us up. I don’t think I want to know the “cousin” just yet. I think it is a desperate situation when your friends have to call relatives to get you out on a date. Shameless. I wasn’t even embarrassed that he had read my thoughts. He could see where I was going and I was not surprised that he had something more to offer – to “fix my problem”. What is my problem exactly? I am in an unfulfilling relationship with a man I barely know. I would rather sit alone at home in front of the television than endure a conversation that drags on into infinity. The sex is good but is it really that good. I mean, what are we comparing it to. It is better than those before but “making love” when there is no love does not make any sense to me. It is just “slow sex”. Let’s be honest. We are to meet on Saturday, at least he has his weekends off.
But what to tell Jah?
“Sorry, we reviewed you application and have found a more suitable candidate for the position.”
He made a comment yesterday about sculpting a mermaid out of watermelon. I agree this would have been more romantic if it were an ice sculpture, but you take what you can get. He continued by saying that some of his co-worker/underlings critiqued his work, by saying that his mermaid’s breasts were too large, and she was not wearing a bra, I was not surprised that my mounds had transcended to food but it was the typical direction that most men take. I know they are large, I was born this way and for 24 years (or since puberty at 9 years old) I have been very aware of their size. There are women out here that would give up their paychecks for the kind of cleavage that I am able to sport but breast size does not matter to me. I mean, once you have time they become overrated. Anyway, his sideways compliment was not what I was looking for and frankly I kind of wish did not verbalize them in the first place.
My part time lover status has me thinking that this is not the man for me and that I should move on with the other man meat and man meat bi-products that are on the market. I don’t want this gushy lovey dovey type relationship, where he does all the things that you read about in cheesy romance novels but a real person that talks and argues about stupid stuff, someone where I can reference real comments made rather than the implications of actions that I am not certain I fully comprehend.
We are not in love. Or at least I am not. There is nothing there, to speak of, that I can fall in love with. There are no meaningful conversations. He does not ask me about myself. My questions to him about himself are always avoided. I am a journalist at heart and this kind of avoidance only raises more questions.
I don’t know how I managed to welcome this kind of person into my life. I mean, a stray dog that I thought was cute I welcomed. Now the mutt won’t leave.
There are too many questions that I just have that remain unanswered. I deserve better than this guessing game. He has secrets, and it is as though every day I have to try to figure out what the code is for deciphering combination to his secret’s safe. It is too much. Why can’t he just be up front with me. I can’t deal, and there is a position open again.
I came home today and a friend who had read the rough draft of this letter thought it was funny and interesting enough for him to call up one of his “cousins” (can you see the problem here already) and try to hook us up. I don’t think I want to know the “cousin” just yet. I think it is a desperate situation when your friends have to call relatives to get you out on a date. Shameless. I wasn’t even embarrassed that he had read my thoughts. He could see where I was going and I was not surprised that he had something more to offer – to “fix my problem”. What is my problem exactly? I am in an unfulfilling relationship with a man I barely know. I would rather sit alone at home in front of the television than endure a conversation that drags on into infinity. The sex is good but is it really that good. I mean, what are we comparing it to. It is better than those before but “making love” when there is no love does not make any sense to me. It is just “slow sex”. Let’s be honest. We are to meet on Saturday, at least he has his weekends off.
But what to tell Jah?
“Sorry, we reviewed you application and have found a more suitable candidate for the position.”
posted by Onika at 4:23 PM
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