I finally got the opportunity to stay at the beautiful Gaylord Hotel in Fort Washington, Maryland this weekend. 

A good friend and I agreed on a much-needed night away, so we grabbed our overnight bags, got a little decent for the evening and rolled on down the highway.  Our plan for the night was simple.  We said we’d hit MGM casino, have a nice dinner and enjoy the sights and sounds of the harbor.  After dinner, we made the mistake of turning on Hoarders while we enjoyed a drink, and awoke at 5am laughing our asses off about how we slept the entire night away. 

I watched him piddling around the room trying to find sweats to join me on the hotel’s pier to watch the sunrise and wanted to jump up and down on the bed. I wanted so badly to squeal out loud but figured he’d think I was crazy so I chilled. My excitement had nothing to do with him at all. 

There was no steamy night of action from the bedroom to the balcony, bouncing from the windows and all of those fancy Gaylord walls until I couldn’t find my drawls. Nope. We did not have sex. Of any kind.


There was no drunk bumping and grinding, and no sober fucking. A few tosses and turns throughout the night involved an entangled arm or two and tight embraces, but that was it. But this is where the giddiness came in.
Ladies, when have we ever?! Granted, we’ve all experienced the non-encounter overnight that just made you want to give up the skins even more, but single-man, single-woman, and 400-thread count sheets with no action?  


More importantly, no pressure and no expectation. Just two consenting adults choosing each other’s company for the night, without consenting to one gotdamn thing but a good time minus the sex.   We’re growing up, girls.


If you’ve been following my blog, it’s a bit obvious that I’ve spent a good portion of my life equating sex to acceptance. I wish that I could take this time to insert some amazing, enlightening wisdom but I don’t. I just don’t think like that anymore. And I have a sneaking suspicion that the person reading this doesn’t either.  We’re taking our time now.
I’m the former queen of mercy humps – not being sexually attracted but feeling like, well damn I may have lead him on so come on and do your business. Oh hell no. We don’t do that anymore, for sure.


Since I’m being honest, I’m not even sexually attracted to him. I just really enjoy his company.  What I know for certain though, is that our friendship is genuine, solid and respectful.  His presence is comforting and he’s really a good man but that’s it for me, for now.  This what dating is about though. 


Taking your time.  Not running into the first thing that resembles a relationship with your legs wide open. We’ll screw and call it love before even knowing his middle name.  We can’t move like that and expect the shit to flourish into something real.  Talk to me. Let me learn you first.  One of the biggest turn-ons during this stage of my life is conversation.


My current favorite, Mr. 51 is a great conversationalist.  We talk about everything and a whole bunch of nothing.  It makes him so sexy to me. Mr. 51 wasn’t my road trip companion though. If it were him, I can promise this week’s post would’ve been too hot to handle! But that’s our chemistry, and that’s our thing that we do. He satisfies me immensely and I have no interest in having more than one sexual partner right now.


I had an interesting conversation over crabs with a few of my girlfriends recently.  While we all agreed that dating multiple guys is all good when your exploring options, more than one sexual partner at a time is so last week.
It’s just messy and literally takes far too much energy to manage. I absolutely refuse.


Now, let’s keep it stack – I had three magnums in my overnight bag just in case. Better prepared than sorry and I, a grown ass woman, was spending the night with a grown ass man.  I’m not naive.



We walked out into the chilly morning on our mission to catch the sun coming up and I was paused by the funniest revelation: my pussy is so happy. 


I’m loving me so much and she’s reeping the benefits. It’s been a long time coming. We still do occasional dumb shit together but I’m learning to listen to her more. If it’s a no for her, it’s a no for me too. I’m not forcing shit.


Hello, friend.


Here I was, sitting next to this gentleman that I had dragged out of bed to join me on my zany sunrise mission, a man who has not seen me naked, or even kissed me. We’ve teased and flirted but nothing even remotely sexual had ever occured. He simply enjoys my company as much as I enjoy his and sex is not leading the way. 


It’s that former way of thinking that has us in a rush to fall in love with moments.  People make us feel good and we call it love. 


Until we grow, the love inside of us won’t.  It won’t illuminate bright and vibrant to others, letting them know that our hearts are ready for all that they’re giving. We won’t see others cleary because our pussies are crossing lines that our spirits should never.


The part of me that wants to be desired doesn’t look the same in the light.  In this space, I call them my “ping points” – the important qualities that make me glow on the inside- connecting, conversation, truth – I don’t make exceptions to that. Once you know better, you do better.


And the universe hears me too.  Interesting men interested in me, where were they twenty years ago? Hmmm. Where was I twenty years ago?  Certainly not in a space to appreciate a whole, good man.


We sat close on the pier, debating about the direction of the sunrise. I posed for a few candid shots and hit a little twerk and laughed. I said, “let me stop before I have to put a pillow between us when we go back to the room,” He said, “You don’t have to worry about that.” I gave him a playful smirk.


He decided on room service and while my greedy ass perused the menu, he continued, “You must be crazy to think that I don’t want to jump your damn bones. But I can’t do that, not like that  with you. I like doing this with you. I can do that other shit with anybody.”


I squealed out loud and did a flip on the bed. He laughed.


Well, I’ll be damned. A happy penis. Attached to a whole, happy man. Have mercy! ✊🏾

One thought on “Happy Pussy.

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