My Mmph-mmmph-mmmmmph. My sweet, sweet blackberry covered in brown sugar. My baby. I’m going to enjoy writing this. This is probably one of the first pieces that I’ve shared that has me smiling in between keystrokes and pausing to reflect on some good damn lovin’ while writing this.
Let me start by saying he’s a gorgeous man. Sexy. Regal. I’m talking Barack Obama swag with a little extra edge to him. How corny am I?? But guess what, I’m not being extra in the slightest way. He’s a beautiful man. It’s the inside that makes his outside so damn fine.
Just so y’all know, I think I’m all that and a bag of chips. I feel confident enough to pull any man I set my sights on; the days of ducking and hiding are long gone. I seek, find and launch my flirtatious missle in any direction I chose. But this one right here, I didn’t see him coming.
When he walked into my friend’s front yard and sat down, I paid him no mind. I didn’t even consider the notion of him paying me any mind either. While he was familiar from around the way, I didn’t know much more than his name. He knew one of my girlfriends and sat down to catch up and chat with her. He spoke, we spoke back and me and another girlfriend resumed our conversation while he continued catching up with our friend.
Then he asked me a question about dating a mutual friend. Who is this nosey nigga? I thought. When I cocked my head and turned to give a smart aleck reply, we made eye contact and I paused to take him in for a minute. Gotdamn, I thought. Dude is fine. Handsome. Put a little pause in me.
But I continued with my smart ass response and noticed that he was taking me in. Well, alright then. He looked me up and down, slowly. The shit was methodical and it made my palms sweat. I’m a self-titled pimp, my palms don’t do no sweating! I looked away.
He said something else that I don’t quite recall because I picked up my phone to see a text from my girlfriend whose yard we were sitting in. “Bitch! Stop acting dumb, he is on you!”
I laughed out loud. My conversation with him continued but I wasn’t really looking at him. Those eyes. Gotdamn it those eyes melt the chocolate from your bones honey. Wheeeeeeew! Let me get myself together and finish this story.
He asked if I like crabs. I looked up from my phone to reply and knew right then that I was about to get myself all up into him.
“I do.” I replied. I put my phone down. “So when are you taking me out for some?”
We exchanged numbers and he insisted on taking a picture of me to store as a contact. I showed off in true Janell fashion, a lil sexy and a lotta funny. I asked to see the pictures and spent more taking him in than looking at the photos. He was doing the same. What was this that we were about to do? I didn’t want to put too much thought into it, but I was suddenly interested in getting to know him better. I blamed it on curiosity.
A few weeks passed before we actually connected. I almost deleted his number. I prefer being pursued. Especially when there’s definitely an obvious mutual attraction. I need your attraction to me to be a little bit thicker mine to you. He wasn’t pursuing. Call it ego, call it fear of rejection but I need that.
My girlfriend and I were talking about the connection between he and I in her yard and I said, “I don’t know but I haven’t really heard from him and you know I’m not about to waste my time.” She said, “Text him and tell him that. Ask him if you’re wasting your time.”
I took her advice. He responded with a quick, cool “No.” Blamed it on his work schedule and life happenings. I wasn’t sure if I believed him at first. He said it again though, “You’re not wasting your time. I want what I want.” Gotdamn. And guess what? He told the truth.
We have a thing between us. This thing, is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. This shit is deep. I can’t call it love because maybe I don’t want to admit that if this is love, then I’ve never really experienced love before. All I know is that it’s different. I don’t know what to call it, but it feels like Sunday morning.
Expected. Beautiful. Warm. Peaceful. Easy.
No orgasm in the world could knock my socks off quicker than his smile. His embrace makes me feel adored. Missed. Thought of. I love when someone feels familiar, like home. I think I’ve shared that before. Every time he walks through my door, his embrace feels like home. He feels like home. He makes me feel beautiful. He’s always genuinely happy to be in my company. There are no distractions. No other world but ours when we’re together. I can’t recall the last time I entered a room and had anyone other than my grandchildren make me feel that way.
I’ve never felt more desired by a man. Never. He’s the only man that makes me want to focus on satisfying him. I normally leave the responsibility of pleasure in the hands of the man, I like following the lead. But not with him. His sighs and reactions are like a lovemaking compass to me, the sounds he makes and his facial expressions tell me exactly what he wants and how. I love submitting to him.
Remember when Shug Avery rain through the field with her arms raised, eyes closed and declared, “I feels like saaaaangin’!”? Yeah. That.
Would you believe me if I told you that to date, he and I have had less than dozen intimate encounters? I don’t see him often. But when he calls, my world stops just for him because he’s my escape from it.
We could never be together though. Not in the way of committing to each other. Our spirits are connected but entirely too free. You can’t ever attempt to tame your escape. A relationship would ruin it.
What I also know for certain is that he and I won’t ever fall out. That energy doesn’t exist between us. There won’t ever be an argument or hurt that would close memories of him behind a door. I’ll never think of him and not smile. I could go on into the next chapter of my life and experience my greatest love, and it would not extinguish the candle that I’ll always have lit for him.
He’s just different. He’s a good man. A really, really good man.
I feel deep for him one late night listening to Marvin Gaye. We were listening to Distant Lover, the live version. He talked about him being his favorite artist. Prince is his second. I talked about Donny Hathaway. We went on and on, discussing lyrics, arrangements and samples. Music was our thing. Our connection. It was in his spirit, just like mine. What type of game was the universe playing with me?
We listened to I Want You by Marvin Gaye in silence. He rubbed and massaged the middle of my back and rubbed his chest and kissed around his navel. He played in my hair. We kissed for so long, my lips were tender the next day. We didn’t say one word. I was gone. Right then and there.
So while I date and have lovers, he has responsibilities too. I don’t mind because our worlds are too far removed to ever generate static.
I last saw him a few weeks ago. It had been awhile. I missed him so much. When he texted to let me know that he was at the door, I could not get to it fast enough. I felt like a super pressed, giddy ass teenager. So much so that I had to laugh at myself. I skipped and danced all the way to the door. I paused for a second to calm down, I couldn’t let him see me this damn pressed, I thought to myself.
All of my coolness went right out the door and straight past him when I saw that beautiful damn smile beaming back at me. I said, “Heeeeeeeey…” and he walked right into my arms. We hugged each other so tight. Even did the little old lady church hug rock. We held on for a good minute too. My friend felt good.
I said, “Mmmmmm, it is soooo good to see you.” He said, “It’s so good to see you, too.” and flashed that magnetic smile, looking at me with those sincere damn eyes.
He makes me feel brand new. Each and every time. Welcoming me into that favorite familiar space.
His. Easy and free, and lovely (I think Jill said it first!).
Like Sunday morning.