marriage

Poly In The Dark

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I sped down the stairs in an effort to avoid the voicemail picking up. By the time I reached the phone, it was too late. The voicemail picked up. I immediately hit the asterisk to avoid the voice projecting over the speaker. Jerod was asleep in our bedroom and though he was snoring loud enough that trees were probably being cut down, he was also a light sleeper. I walked into the den and closed the door gently before speaking. It was Mike and he wanted to ask if I was coming to his party at the new speakeasy. I told him I was having cramps and needed to rest. He was aware of how terrible my cramps were. He asked if I needed him to bring me some Alleve. I told him, not to worry but tomorrow we’d catch up. He asked was I sure, I didn’t need him and he would be more than willing to leave his party now and come rub my back. Damn! He gave the best back and booty rubs. No, thank you! He could sense something was off. I rushed off the phone and told him I was drowsy and wanted to go back and laydown. When he realized I was not going to let up, he said, “well…let me not keep you.” In a very snarky tone. I hung up the phone and walked into the kitchen to make some tea.

Jerod was a truck driver and his job would take him all over the country. Oftentimes, he’d be away for upwards of three weeks. I never planned on entertaining Mike but we grew close once I joined my neighborhood Cross Fit gym. He was one of the owners and quickly took a liking to me. He said there was something spectacular and exotic about Jamaican women. I ignored him because I was very happy at home. However, I grew lonely as Jay was away for weeks on end. I needed companionship. I never did anything sexual with Mike, he just liked to be dominated. Jerod was the dominant one in our relationship, so playing with Mike was fun.

I remember the first time I asked Mike if he would be interested in allowing me to dominate him. He, like most men, said you can do anything to me but the booty is off limits. No worries, I promised that I’d honor his request. It was on a Friday night; he came over after his last class at the gym. I told him to come sweaty, he chuckled. He told me, when I ordered him around it made him rock hard. See, he loved being dominated but didn’t know how to ask this of his previous lovers. He walked into the house smelling like Egyptian Musk. I could taste his sweat as it dripped off his biceps and cascaded down his arms. I told him to go upstairs but being a gentleman, he told me to lead the way. I walked in front of him, seductively as a Jezebel seducing her prey. He grabbed onto my waist beads, hoisted me into his arms and carried me into the master bedroom.

He gently placed me on the edge of my bed and began to get undressed. I became mesmerized by his delicious chocolate skin. I told him to lay on the floor and to not say another word. The only word I would allow would be our safe word, “Brooklyn”. I lifted his head off the floor and strapped on my blackout blindfold. He jumped, so I bent down close to his right ear and whispered, “don’t be a bitch! Be a good boy and play nice!” A grin formed on his face, making his dimples more pronounced. I grabbed my rope and told him to take my hand and use my body for support to stand. He obeyed like a good boy. I reassured him; he’d be rewarded for such good behavior. After I finished tying him up, I sat him down onto the pleasure chair. It had many parts, as this was the same chair Jay used on me. I allowed my whip to circle his back, then his legs, all the way to his now pulsating shaft. I found pleasure in seeing it ooze. The first lash was gentle but intensified greatly.

When my hands grew tired and the sweat blinded my vision, I paused to wipe away the wetness from my eyes. I told him he could release himself now and as a willing servant, he obliged. As his juices dripped from the edge of the seat, I began to untie him. Once no longer in submission, he stood, and reached for me. I jumped backwards. Did I give you permission to touch me? I will tell you when you can touch me. Today, you are not permitted. Were you not satisfied? Yes, he replied. Okay then, go rinse off in the shower. He wobbled to the bathroom, as his legs fell asleep from the hour-long session. We went about this for a few months. He knew I was hiding a secret but never asked the question. Why tell him I’m engaged. He was only a toy; my man was who had my heart.

 

I turned on the lights and grabbed the step stool from the pantry closet. When my right foot stepped onto the top step, I felt hands from behind hoist me into midair. His hands were firm and deliberate with their intentions. Jerod placed me on the edge of the counter. With lust filled eyes, he bent down on his knees, moved my silk robe to the right, licked his lips as he surveyed his mission. I tilted my head back, in a trance, almost unable to mask the moans. I belted out a loud cry, and tried to edge away, he locked my inner thighs more firmly. I couldn’t get lose from his grasp even if I wanted. I put my right hand on his silky bald head. He pulsated his tongue so magically, it felt like he wanted to massage my clit into submission. I gushed into his mouth, not clear as to what he was doing to my body. He moaned in perfect harmony; you would have thought he was the one experiencing this orgasmic realm. Before I knew it, he stood up, with his ripeness ready to enter. I felt him flip me over, with my knees now planted on the placemat.

He entered and I lost my breath for a brief moment. I yelled, “Daddy!” He replied, “Yes, Mama!” Be gentle. Please! He told me to shut up and be a good girl! I replied, “Yes, Sir!” Each stroke felt like a new tunnel was being drilled inside of me. It was surreal how large he was. My ovaries hated me days after each session. Before he released, he asked me where I wanted it. May I have a facial, please. He cupped my chin and made me kiss and taste all my juices first. His beard was fully coated, you could see it glistening.  He pulled back from my lips, staring at me as if I was a prized possession. Then he painted my face like a masterpiece.

When he spoke, his words hit me as an unexpected jab. So, you want to tell me why you had to take the call down here instead of in the room? Before you speak, consider your words carefully. Don’t let this nice guy image fool you. Like I told you, I’m a Portsmouth dude, you can feed me your body, and food but never bullshit! You feel me?! As the last word left his lips, the doorbell rang. We locked eyes and the time stood still. Jerod narrowed his body as though he were going to make his way to the door. I put my hands up, blocked his step and hastened in front of him. As I sped towards the door, he grabbed my left arm, still sore from my tattoo the day prior. I screeched and saw white spots from the pain. All I knew was he opened the door and froze.

I made my way to the door and saw Mike standing there with a CVS bag. I stood there unable to speak, almost paralyzed in shock. Mike spoke first, “so this is why you didn’t want me to come over?!” I looked up at Jerod who was still standing there motionless. I feared what would happen next. Mike dropped the bag and stepped towards the top step. At this time, Jerod pushed me behind him and asked Mike to come in. Mike stood there in disbelief. Nah homie!! Who the hell are you? Jerod stood there in a mannequin form. I tried to speak but words seemed foreign.

Mike!!! I think its best you leave!

Mike, had rage in his eyes. Not until you give answers. At this time, I was unaware that Jerod had walked back into the house. All I know is, by the time I turned around, Jerod was running down the steps with his grey sweatpants, Lebron’s, Steelers hoodie and his pistol peeking out of his waist. Before I could close the door, Jerod gently moved me out the way and slammed the door behind him. My legs still wobbly from our session just minutes ago. Being unstable and his push was more forceful than he imagined. I got up from the floor, grabbed the door handle, and flung the door open. I saw Jerod and Mike about to square off. By this time, Ms. Roberts, the nosy neighbor from across the street was outside screaming. I leaped off the top step and fell poorly on my left ankle, which was still healing from surgery two months prior. The pain shot through my body like a bullet and I collapsed to the ground. Not again, Liz, get it together.

I jumped on Mike’s back and began clawing at his eyes. He pushed me off like a tick on a dog. I fell this time onto Jerod’s mustang. The alarm went off as soon as the thud of my body hit his hood. The alarm sound rang out like a smoke alarm to cooked bacon. It must have been 11:30pm by now, or so it seemed. Ms. Roberts ran over to my aid and asked if I was okay. I thanked her as she helped peel me off the hood like a wet leaf. I looked over and saw Jerod mounted on top of Mike and filling his body with blows. It looked like a Mortal Kombat scene; his hands were moving so fast. I swore I heard him say, “Hulk Smash” or maybe I was hearing things.  I tried to pull Jerod off of Mike but as he planted each blow, blood flew in synchronized form. You could smell the blood, it was horrific. The final blow was so hard, his gun fell from his waist. Immediately, Ms. Roberts, screamed; “Duck! He has a Gun!!” I quickly retrieved the gun and made my way towards the steps. By the time I made it to the threshold, I heard the sirens. I ran up the steps, made it to my guest bedroom, squatted to the ground and found my safe. I punched in the code, placed the gun in the safe, locked it and ran back downstairs.

I walked out of the door and saw them restraining Jerod. Mike was apparently unconscious at this time. The paramedics were stabilizing Mike’s neck and asking Ms. Roberts if she knew his name. When she saw me, she pointed and said, ask her. One officer approached me, as the other officer put handcuffs on Jerod. I ignored what the officer said and made my way over to the other officer. Might I ask why you’ve placed handcuffs on my fiancee? Ma’am, your neighbor told me that this man beat up your significant other. Excuse me! Officer Alexander, is it? The man on the stretcher is the man who came to my home uninvited and threatened to shoot me. My fiancée is only doing what he felt would be best for our safety. All he knows is to protect those he loves. The same way he protected this county as a Marine for more than fifteen years. Please…PLEASE take off his handcuffs!

Ma’am, please step over here. Listen, the officer stated, “your neighbor said your fiancée had a gun and it went off and the bullet almost hit her. Now, from surveying the premises, I don’t see any evidence of this. Do you know why she would have reason to make such a bold accusation?” Though we have the right to bear arms in Virginia, they don’t condone reckless usage. I told him that Ms. Roberts has felt threatened by my fiancée as he is a black man who has an intimidating stature. She’s a Caucasian woman who is not fond of black people in particular. His eyes lit up, as if I touched a nerve. Listen, I know how to play the game and I was not going to let my man be subjected to the system. He served his country for more than 15 years; this is not how we repay him. Besides, it was my fault why all this bullshit was happening, I had to fix it. The officer told me to give him a few minutes so he could talk things over with his partner.

I stood there uncertain of the next step. I stared in the direction of Jerod and we locked eyes. He looked at me with such pain and regret. I motioned my lips, “baby, I am so sorry!” He shook his head as if he understood but it wasn’t enough to take away the embarrassment of having our neighbors peering their judgmental eyes at him. He had prided himself on never being arrested, considering how and where he grew up. It was my fault. Tears filled my eyes as they removed the cuffs from his hands. They talked to him for a while and before they got into their car, the officer looked at me then to Jerod. He said, loud enough for Ms. Roberts to hear, “thank you for your service.” Coincidently, tomorrow was Veteran’s Day. Jerod walked pass me, my hand slipped off his arm, as I tried to touch him. I looked at him walk into the house and into the kitchen. I turned around only to see Ms. Roberts closing her front door. I stood in the cold, feeling the brisk wind from the night graze my cheeks. It was then that I realized, all this time, my robe was open and my nipples were hardened by the cold of night. I walked begrudgingly up the steps, unable to fathom what awaited me behind those doors. I locked the front door and as I turned around my lips found his chest. I looked up at his massive 6’4 stature and felt the tears drop onto my forehead.

Before I could say a word, he grabbed my right arm and led me into the living room. I tried to flip the light switch on but his long legs were rushing me into the pitch-black room, at the same time my right knee hit the edge of my wooden coffee table. He sat me across from him on my vintage plush purple accent chair. In an effort to divert his attention, I rubbed my knees aggressively. The whole time trying to avoid making eye contact. It was dark but I could see right into his soul. He got up in such haste, I jumped as if I thought he would hit me. He went to turn on the lamp closest to the love seat. He walked over and sat between my legs. He angled the chair so my face could be within direct light.

We stared into each other’s eyes for a while. He put his head in his hands and began to rock back and forth. I pushed my chair slowly away from him but the legs made a loud screech as it rubbed against the hardwood. He flung his head up now with a devious stare. Are you shitting me? You’re seriously trying to edge away from me. He stood up and began pacing the room. The next thing I knew, the vase with roses he bought me last night was being smashed onto the glass coffee table. The water hit the side of my face, and shards of glass coated my left leg like stabbing needles. He stormed out of the room and walked out of the front door. I heard his engine rev and his tires howl out the driveway. I tip-toed over the glass on the floor and walked as fast as I could to the window. I could only see the tail of his vehicle as it turned onto Jefferson Avenue. I stood at the window until I heard his ringtone playing in the foyer. I made my way to my bag to retrieve my phone. I saw the caller id read, “Beloved”, I answered and heard heavy breathing. He yelled, “I’m not coming home tonight! Matter Fact, “THE WEDDING IS OFF!”. Before I could say a word, he hung up. I called him back to back, eight times in total. The final call I received the message of death, “Message 2391, the Verizon subscriber you are trying to reach is not receiving calls.” I was blocked!

 

Stay tuned for Part II

 

While You Were Away Part IV

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I got on my knees as I was accustomed to doing. I loved being in the submissive position whenever I pleasured him. I admired his cock as an artist does his muse. He was my piece of art and with each stroke I made magic. I took my time, pulling back the skin as he was uncircumcised. I began licking him allowing my taste buds to build with excitement. I began kissing it slowly, building up the intensity, never giving him the same routine. Each time was a new experience. The head received slow and steady kisses. The shaft was territory for my tongue to lick and saturate with my saliva. I felt my nipples getting stiffer by the second. I noticed my legs sticking together, clearly my clit was throbbing with secretion of pure wetness.

He grew more fuller in my tight mouth. Soon enough the five inches grew to 8.5 inches. I slowly opened my eyes and met his gaze. He thoroughly enjoyed watching me as I took all of him in my mouth. I kept my eyes connected to his as he grasped the back of my head and forced my mouth deeper into his fullness. I gaged and shifted in and out of being able to breathe. Tears streamed down my face but I wanted to make sure he released in my mouth and I was never comfortable with wasting a drop. He tilted his head back and then it happened, as it always did, he belted out a moan that was synchronized with body jerks and leg tremors. I’m sure the neighbors heard but we could care less. I got off my knees and swallowed it in one gulp. He grabbed my waist and pulled me close, to the point our pelvic bones connected. He kissed me as if he needed my lips to survive. Within seconds, I was hoisted in the air and raised to his shoulders. My lower lips were being feasted on again, with the cream from the last session coating his face. I shook violently as my body reminded me how much I needed this orgasm.

He flipped me over into doggie style and wasted no time to give me what I longed for. We made sweet music with our bodies, never coming up for air, nor breaking the rhythmic grinding and stroking movements. An hour had passed before he couldn’t deprive himself any longer from releasing what he held for too long. I begged him to feed me his protein and he obliged. Something about him watching me receive his nut makes me feel content. Once we were done, I recall him kissing my forehead and then I watched him as he walked into the restroom. Moments later the warm rag caressed my sensitive lips and then he blew gently on my privates to dry the wet spots. He pulled the heated blanket over my chilled body and turned the lights.

Hours had pass before my phone stirred me from my slumber. Initially I thought I was dreaming of my phone ringing but the noise wouldn’t break. I slowly opened my eyes and saw my phone in a distance vibrating. I didn’t realize how long I was knocked out. The blinds were closed and room dark. I stretched my hand over to the nightstand and touched in search of my phone. I wanted to answer the phone before it woke Blake, as I assumed he was fast asleep next to me. Little did I know he was already up.

My fingers felt the edge of the sleek of my phone but before I could grasp it, it was snatched from my fingertips.

 

Blake: Hello!

Shawn: My bad, this must be the wrong number.

Blake: Who are you looking for?!

Shawn: Nah B…I’m sure this is the wrong number.

Blake: Are you sure?

Shawn: Yes, you’re not my fiancée…matter of fact…have a good day.

Blake: You looking for Jen?!

Shawn: YOoooO…Son! Why you answering my girl phone? Who dis?!

Blake: (Silence) your girl?

Blake threw the phone at me, barely missing my face. I picked up the phone and feared what I would hear on the other end. When I spoke, I heard heavy breathing. In the next breath, he spoke venomous words. Words that were and still too painful to repeat. My heart betrayed me and suddenly I felt the tears escape my eyelids. I felt cold but my tears were warm, as if a volcano had erupted within me. I hung up the phone in the middle of his tirade about how much of a trifling bitch I was. He made threats of calling my mother and telling her how I cheated on him. He screamed, “I can’t believe I loved you. You nasty bitch! The wedding is off. I hate you…I hate you Jen!” When I rolled onto my side to console myself, the door flew open. I almost forgot I wasn’t home.

He stood there with rage in his eyes. I sat up in the bed and turned on the lamp. We locked eyes for a moment. I watched his chest heave high and low as though he were gasping for air to fill his lungs. When he spoke, the pain stifled his words. I couldn’t bear to hear him say those words. I interrupted him mid-sentence and said whatever it would take to make him stop speaking. “Baby, he means nothing to me. I promise you, it’s over. I came here because this is where I want to be. I choose you. He’s mad and said I was his girl in order to hurt you. Believe me. I love you Blake!”

When he walked over to the bed, I was still nervous because I was unsure if he would hit or hug me. He knelt next to me and I touched the top of his head. He laid on my right thigh and then the unexpected happen. I felt wetness fill my lap, to the point I thought I was still wet from earlier. I cupped his chin with my right hand and turned his face towards me. He pulled his face away and quickly jumped up and left the room. I followed him in haste to the study.

I waited a few minutes by the door, totally unsure of what to do next. What’s wrong my love? “Jen, I think its best we break things off. You will never be ready for what I’m ready to offer. I’m not every going to be the other guy. It’s clear you have some unfinished business. I won’t be number #2. Just leave me alone!” I’m not sure if I was still feeling defeated from the phone call or was it the thought of losing the both of them. I ran over to him and threw my arms around him. I reminded him that I loved him and needed him to not give up on our love. Honestly, I didn’t think he’d fall for my act but he did.

We decided to make plans to go to Suya Spot a Nigerian restaurant in Baltimore County for dinner. I told him I would meet him there but needed to get home to shower and change my clothes. He decided he wanted to be with me and was not going to let me go home alone. I didn’t protest, so we took my car back to my place. On the ride home, he was very silent; uncomfortably silent. He spent majority of the trip staring out the window. I pulled into my driveway and noticed my kitchen light was on. I didn’t pay much attention to it as I figured I may have left it on the night prior. I asked Blake to retrieve my bag out of the trunk. He slammed the trunk shut and I gave him the ‘Imma slap the shit out of you stare.’ I hate how he slams everything. Geesh

I decided to pick my battles and just keep my trap shut. When we got to the top of the steps, I went to disarm the house but noticed the alarm was already off. At this time, I told Blake, someone is inside my home. He quickly ran back down to my car and yelled for me to unlock the doors. He got his 9-millimeter from under the passenger seat and ran back up the steps. When I opened the front door, Blake walked in front of me. When I began to survey the living room, I noticed Shawn’s suitcase in the middle of the living room floor. As we began to walk towards the staircase, I heard someone coming down the steps. Whomever it was didn’t’ realize we were in the house as they appeared nonchalant. Blake stood in front of me and as they locked eyes, it happened. Blake ran towards Shawn with his gun drawn. I went to leap towards Blake to grab the hem of his shirt but it was too late. All I saw was Shawn fall to the grown. I screamed, “Noooo!!!!” Blake Shot again, then he…

 

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While You Were Away, Part III

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He grabbed my arm tightly, it felt like blood vessels were bursting all at once under my skin.

Let go!!!!

He released my arm and as he did, my right hook connected with his jaw. He pushed me up against my car and held me there as I tried to headbutt him. I squirmed around trying to free myself. Finally, able to break free, once I stomped on his pinky toe with my 4” stiletto boots. OUCH!!!!! He screamed, and at the same time, one of his neighbors exited the front door and ran over to my aid.

“Hey guy, get the hell off her!”

Shawn, still in shock from the pain shooting through his body and this now, “Captain Save-A-Hoe” guy that appeared. Before he could say a word, the guy did some Bruce Lee move on his ass. All I saw was Shawn pinned up against the ground, with his left cheek in a urine stained chunk of snow, by my foot, on the sidewalk.

“Miss, get out of here. I got it!”

Within seconds, I heard the sirens, yes, the boys in blue pulled up. Now, let me paint this picture. Woman, clothes looking disheveled, due to man trying to prevent her from punching him again in the face. My appearance would leave anyone to believe that I was the one that was in danger. Then, you have a barely dressed black male; in gray sweatpants, no shirt, and barefoot. To make matters worse, you have a Caucasian male, restraining this black man, and a woman crying uncontrollably. What they don’t realize is that I am not crying because he physically hurt me, no, it’s the emotional pain that has me in this current fragile state.  If you were the cops, arriving to this scene, it is quite obvious whom you would assume was the culprit in this matter. As you can see, this has escalated rather quickly.

One cop rushed over to assist the neighbor whom still had Shawn pinned on the ground. The other officer walked up to me to ask how I was doing. I told him that I was okay and was only having an argument with my boyfriend. He looked at me, if I were lying and merely covering up for Shawn, as if he were an abusive douche bag. I reassured him that I was leaving in the heat of an argument and my guy was simply trying to prevent me from leaving without talking. During our disagreement, the guy from the building came on the scene. My boyfriend was trying to prevent my attempt to repeat something I had done to him. I tried to avoid disclosing the fact that I physically assaulted Shawn.

By the time, the officer walked away to go and talk to Shawn, I leaned up against my car for support. My toes were numb, and my thighs felt as if I had hundreds of needles sticking me. Obviously, I was having the early onset of frost bites. Officer Wright, from the 79th Precinct, came back and told me that Shawn was not going to press charges. This son of a bitch! I can’t believe he told them that I sucker-punched him in the face. Well, he deserved it for cheating on me. I should have kicked him in the throat with my boots. Better yet, I wish his neighbor gave him a Karate chop to the throat.

I sat in the car waiting for the police to drive off. I had my head down browsing my Instagram page and watching a video, all while the car heat up. The tap on the window, broke my attention from the video I was watching on ‘Callhimrenny’ page.  I looked up and it was Officer Wright.

“Ma’am, we’re going to need you to leave the premises. Your boyfriend said he feels            unsafe with you being in front of his home. He is fearful of what you may do once we        leave. He’s considering filing a restraining order against you. However, until he                  decides what he will do, please avoid any contact with him.”

I told the officer that I would comply with the request. I pulled off and drove to the corner store on Lewis and Jefferson Avenue. I bought a dutch and a ‘torch’ lighter. When I walked back to my car, I noticed that the back-left tire was a little low and in need of air. Before I pulled out of my parking space, I turned on the radio and DJ Dahved Levy was playing, “Hills and Valleys” by Buju Banton. The perfect song to get me in the right vibe before I smoke this spliff.

I began singing aloud to the verses and then my phone interrupted the song, over Bluetooth. I looked on my console and saw Satan’s name pop up. I let it ring out because I wanted his dumbass to know I was avoiding his call. I’m sure he thought I was driving back to DC now, with tear-filled eyes. It’s all good. I had already text Blake and told him that I was on my way to his house. He told me that the keys would be left in his mailbox, so I could let myself in. I was halfway home jamming out to some culture music. I was high as a kite. I made it from Brooklyn to Maryland in two hours, with only an hour more to spare. It was almost six thirty when my phone began ringing again. This time, the trifling demon called ten times back to back.  I decided to find out what he wanted.

What the hell do you want?!

“Cut the crap Jen! You wanted this to end. You came fishing and you found what you were looking for. I want you to ship my stuff to me. And while you’re at it, send back the engagement ring. You don’t deserve to keep that ring.”

You are as small as your manhood. Only a useless person would say what you just said to me. You know what?!!

“What?!”

I am happy that I lost our baby. I wouldn’t want to bring a child into this world with your dumbass!

“Jennifer Madison Beckford!! Lose my F#$%*! $ number.”

Babe…I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it…

I heard the phone go dead on his end. He hung up. It was at this very moment that I came to the conclusion that there was no coming back from what I had just said. I crossed a line that no woman should cross. What we lived through was no joking matter to make light of. Nor should I have thrown it down his throat in a vindictive way. I’m an a@#hole.

I pulled into the driveway and bawled. It felt as if the life was escaping me, like a balloon losing all its air. I was unaware that I was holding my breath, thankfully my brain reminded me that it needed oxygen. I gasped and swallowed a gulp of air. I cried the same way I did the day we lost our son that was born stillbirth. The same heartache, this time worst!

It was our 8-month check-up with my OB GYN. I always enjoyed our visits, especially when I was further along and could hear the baby’s heartbeat on the fetal doppler. Today was the day I would show Dr. Liz my engagement ring, as she kept teasing Shawn on putting a ring on it. She’s a huge fan of ‘Queen Bey’ and loved bringing up any Beyoncé song at the drop of a dime. She even went as far as singing one of her hit songs on our last visit,

“If you liked it, then you should have put a ring on it.

“Don’t be mad once you see that he want it…” We shared a laugh.

I went ahead and changed into the scrubs prior to her entrance. I laid on the examination table, with Shawn to the right of me holding my hand. Dr. Liz walked in and greeted us with the same usual perky attitude. She would always remind me to eat, as my pregnancy caused me to experience rapid weight loss. My morning sickness was horrendous. I hated the mere sight of food. I had 24-hour nausea. We small talked to pass time, as she reviewed my chart. My blood pressure was normal, weight was the same as the month prior. She put the lubricating gel on my stomach, we talked about the trip she was going on with her husband to Dubai. She put the device on my stomach and started making circular motions. The next thing I knew the conversation came to a halt.

She asked if I felt any kicking or ‘flutters’ today. I told her that the baby wasn’t as active today. Not realizing until that moment that there was a problem. She told her medical assistant, Kem, to run into the other examination room and grab her the prob. I asked if everything was okay. She didn’t want to look at me.

Dr. Bryan!!!

Dr. Bryan, please speak to me!! Is everything okay with my baby?!

At this time, Shawn stood up and walked to the counter. I guess he needed to lean against something because now, I had released his hand. He slowly put his hands to his head, then his mouth. I’m guessing he was battling something internally. My baby was doing his darnedest to hold it together.

“I’m sorry but I’m not hearing a heartbeat. Please wait until Kem returns. I need to             confirm with the Probe.”

Dr. Liz…No, No, Nooooo! This can’t be happening.

What do you mean you don’t hear a heartbeat?!!

Kem entered the room, sweat beads had formed on her eyebrows. She looked confused and concerned at the same time. I looked at Shawn, he was off to the corner of the room now, rocking back and forth but still on his feet. He walked back to the counter, directly facing me but his eyes were looking pass me. He clearly was in a trance, somewhere mentally far, far away. The agony in his face, of the unknown; was grueling.

Dr. Liz inserted the probe inside me and asked that we all remain silent as she listened for a heartbeat. I laid there stock-still with tears streaming down my face. When she spoke, a part of my heart shut down. Sometimes, the simplest words carry more weight than you can manage.

“Jennifer and Shawn, I am terribly sorry.”

As she said those words, I realized my plans to bring home our baby boy were over. The nursery that we had spent months decorating, in anticipation for the day we brought home Shawn Anthony, were gone. I don’t think we really recovered from that. We simply have been in autopilot for the past few years. How does one recover from the loss of a child. The day after the visit, they scheduled the procedure for me to deliver my deceased son. I wanted to hold him, and feel him in my arms. I always wanted to be a mother. I wouldn’t let this unfortunate outcome rob me from hugging and holding my baby. When Shawn held him, he finally released that pain in a deafening scream. He sobbed as he held him for more than twenty minutes. The nurse had to convince him to give her our son. The way Shawn looked at me, caused me to feel as if I was partially to blame. Not sure why I felt that way.

Shawn and I began seeing a Bereavement Counselor for a year. We went twice a month as a couple and the other times by ourselves. Within the year, instead of healing and growing closer, we grew a part. We realized there was a major strain on our relationship. Shortly after, my friend Nanna, introduced me to smoking weed. Marijuana became my outlet with coping with my emotional pain. I hated the smell but grew addicted to the way it made me feel. I was obsessed with not wanting to feel anything and weed was successful in allowing me to achieve that.

I walked up the steps and grabbed the keys out the mailbox. I stopped and sent him a quick text, letting him know that I was about to enter the house. I wasn’t sure if he deactivated the security system. When I walked inside, I smelled bacon and eggs. I made a pit stop to the bathroom, all that water had my bladder extended. I dried my hands and walked past the kitchen into the bedroom. He didn’t realize that I was in the house, as he had “Shake Body” by Skales blasting. I glanced him in the kitchen but decided to continue to the bedroom.

I walked into the bathroom, now filled with candles and the smell of Strawberry Butter incense burning, making love to my nostrils. I undressed and retrieved the towel and rag he left on the chaise, at the foot of his bed. I kept the lights off in the bathroom and allowed the natural light to fill the space. I turned on the water to achieve the desired temperature. I then pinned my hair and put on his skull cap to prevent my hair from getting wet. When the water was to my liking, I stepped into the steamy shower. I washed and scrubbed my body as if I were washing away the pain. I spent more than 20 minutes just letting the water flow off every inch of my body. When I felt a freeing sense of calmness, I turned off the water and stepped out of the shower unto the memory foam bath mat. I began drying off but his bathroom is narrow, so I decided to finish drying off in his bedroom space. When I reached for the handle of the door, at the same time, Blake swung open the door. He looked at me, as if I were a precious prize. He stood there with my breakfast on a Sterling Silver tray. I was surprised to see that he had coffee and freshly squeezed orange juice as well. He was as thoughtful as he was sexy.

The best part of this was that he was standing there in his birthday suit. He obviously was happy to see me and his body confirmed that visually. I love getting his attention in that way. I walked past him, holding my towel closed, as it was small and was not easy to keep fastened. I sat on the chaise and began eating. At that time, he got on his knees and put my right foot in his hands. I was unaware of his intentions with my feet at this moment. I figured he would give me a massage. Yes, a massage. I sure as heck needed one after the frost bites my toes experienced. I finished the bacon and eggs, now I tackled the pancakes. OMG…this food is so damn good. Wait a minute! The blood from my stomach went to the lower region of my body. I opened my eyes, unaware that I closed them from the sensual bliss I just experienced. He had my toes in his mouth, in an apparent attempt to feast on them, as I was with his delectable, mouthwatering meal. I quickly put the plate down on the chaise. No longer able to concentrate on eating. I leaned back on the arm of the chaise and allowed my body to respond to this surreal moment. I told him to stand up because he needed to be rewarded for making me feel so good. Now that he was standing directly in front of me, I tied my hair back in a bun and began to… <>

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While You Were Away, Part II

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We Need to Talk…

I walked to my car, afraid to look back to see if he were watching. I couldn’t find my car keys at first so I turned on the flashlight app on my phone, great; found it. I sat in my car and waited for the engine to warm up, as the weather outside was frigid. I watched the cold escape my mouth as little mini clouds filled my car and fogged my windows. I shivered uncontrollably until the lever went past C. I could have taken him up on his offer to spend the night but I wanted to speak to Shawn before I went to bed. I have no desire to catch feelings for Blake. He knows what this is. It is and will remain a booty call.

Relieved that the car was finally warm enough to drive, I turned on the heat at full blast. As I put the gear into drive, I heard tapping on my window. I almost jumped out of my skin, because he scared the crap out of me. I unlocked the door, afraid to wind down the windows and risk letting in too much cold air. He sat down in the passenger seat and remained silent. After a minute, he broke his silence,  “are you sure you want to leave without finishing our conversation?” What is wrong with this dude?! We were in bed after our session and he wanted to cuddle and talk about our future. I told him, it would be awkward to do cuddle and do things that are symbolic to what couples do, as we are far from ever being that. I also stated that, it makes no sense to try to put a label on what we were doing because I am not leaving my fiancée.  As soon as I brought Shawn into the discussion he shut down. I wasn’t going to negotiate my comfortability with this man. I told him that I really enjoy what we’ve been doing for the past month. However, I would really like to keep [emotions] out of our situation. Before he could respond, I jumped out of bed, threw on my clothes, and walked out. I felt like he wanted me to make a decision and I already made my choice.

He called my behavior childish and rudely insensitive. I chuckled. He stopped talking for a second and lowered the volume of the radio. I guess the volume was too loud or maybe, he didn’t like the Drake song playing over the speakers, “O to 100.” I guess that was making him feel uncomfortable. All I know is, this is not a conversation that is worth having. Nonetheless, I sat there and listened to him bitch and moan. I immediately felt like the dude in this sit-uation-ship.  I softened up and interrupted by expressing how much I cared about him. As a matter of fact, I think because I care so much, it is best that we cut back on our frequency. I think, quite possibly, seeing each other three times a week is showing itself to be a bit much. He looked at me, pulled my face to his pillow soft lips and smiled. He kissed my forehead, the way I grew accustomed, and shook his head. As he reached for the handle to open the door, I stopped him.

“Wait!”

What’s up?

“Blake. I think you should know something. I’ve been keeping a secret from you but I don’t think it’s fair for you to not know.”

Ok. What’s going on? Is there something troubling you?

“Yes. Shawn and I have decided to get married in two weeks. We are going to use our planned vacation to Jamaica, as a destination wedding. I just purchased the tickets for our parents today. Our two best friends will be the witnesses. I thought you should know that once I am married, we can no longer see each other.”

Are you kidding me?! Why would you marry him, if you and I both know that you are not happy?! If you were happy with dude, you wouldn’t be here with me.

“Yes, there are some things about him that I am disgusted by but the pros outweigh the cons. I am not satisfied with him in the bedroom but that’s mainly because once he turned 40, his man parts have a hard time staying stimulated. He has been taking the pills the doctor prescribed and they have been helping for the most part.”

LOL. So, you rather marry a dude that can’t keep it up?! I don’t need pills to keep it stimulated for you. I’m a year older than him and don’t have this issue. EVER! You are MORE than enough, to keep any REAL man stimulated. Why are you marrying him? Is it the money?

“Blake. Though I have financial stability with Shawn, we were never together for the money. I make my own damn money and don’t need him or any man to hold me down. Heck, I hardly need a man to satisfy me. I have toys that do a better job and cause less stress. So, if you really think, I’m with Shawn for the money, you are bugging!”

So, why the hell are you with me? You pull me into your world, only to dump me so easily. Do you even realize that I broke up with my girlfriend because I’m in love with you. I broke up with a damn good woman, that I was with for two years, to be with your crazy ass! And this is how you repay me?! You’re going to marry a dude that’s cheating on you with his former colleague.

“What did you just say?”

You heard me. Did I stutter?! Your fiancée is banging Emily. You know Emily, don’t you? I believe he mentioned that a year ago, you grew suspicious of their interactions. He said one night while he and Emily were away on business, you were blowing up his phone and he didn’t answer for an hour. When he finally called you back, he gave you some bogus excuse that the two of them were entertaining clients.

Just know that, he wasn’t with clients, he was with Emily. To ensure that you stopped pressing him for information. About two weeks later, he told you that she no longer worked for his firm. Something to the effect that she moved away to Chicago for a new role. Do you want to know why she moved? Hmm…

She moved because his assistant caught them making out in one of the conference rooms. When Shawn was confronted, by another senior executive, he told them whatever it took to save his ass. He threw Emily under the bus and she was laid off. They didn’t tell her why they were letting her go, they made it about performance. The assistant was debrief by Human Resources and warned that if she spread any rumors, she would be fired and sued .

Shawn felt guilt for being responsible for her termination. He decided to take matters into his own hands and reach out to one of our college buddies. He’s a Managing Director at Goldman Sachs and owed Shawn a solid. By the time, he convinced her to move to New York, he fed her the dream that he would eventually leave you and they would be together. Some riding off into sunset fallacy. She bit the bait and moved there. However, New York, isn’t quite Chi-town.

Now, let me get this straight. You paid for an apartment for him to move into, and live with, his side piece. Ha-ha. That’s some funny stuff.

Let me ask you a question, why haven’t you visited him at his place in New York?

When I spoke, it was to let him know that I needed to head home. He let himself out of the car and I watched him as he climbed the stairs and entered his home. He moved into his house a few weeks after the dinner at my place. Once he walked in and closed the door, I jumped on 95 North. I had a few things I needed to find out from Shawn.

I arrived at Shawn’s place about thirty past one. I had my girlfriend meet me at the building so she could let me into the premises. As she no longer had keys to the apartment, I needed to have someone let me in. I wanted to catch Shawn, if he were up to no good. Ringing his bell at one in the morning, was not going to be the wisest. I hugged her and told her that I was good and would call her once I was headed home. I walked up two flights of stairs and once I got to his apartment door, I put my ears to the door to listen. I heard nothing but the music blasting from the apartment three doors down. I forgot I was in New York, the city that never sleeps. I took out my phone and dialed his number. After three rings, he answered and sounded very groggy.

“Hey. What’s up babe?!”

Where are you?

“What do you mean?”

I said, where are you?

“I’m where I’m supposed to be, in my bed.”

Ok. Open the door.

“What?! Are you joking?!”

Nope. Not at all.

I heard footsteps on the other side of the door. I stepped to the side, so he couldn’t see me from the peep hole.

“Why are you playing with me? I am home babe, wish you were here.”

That’s sweet. Funny thing is, I am here. Come back to the door.

On his end, he grew silent.

“Oh okay babe. I am in the bathroom now. Let me take a whiz and I will be right there.”

I hung up and leaned against the wall in the hallway. I counted down how long it took him to come back to the door; five minutes. I heard a door close and then lots of movement but couldn’t decipher what caused his delay. I used this time to unbuckle the straps on my shoes.

When he opened the door, he looked visibly uncomfortable. I took off my pumps by the door and noticed a pair of black shoes, too small to belong to him. I shifted my eyes to the living room, he still had the television on. Nothing out of the ordinary, just Sports Center. I walked to the kitchen and saw two plates, one wine glass, and a scotch glass. I kept quiet because he was a wine drinker, why assume he had company. I walked to the closet door and he grabbed me from behind and pulled me into his arms for a warm embrace.

“Baby. I’ve missed you so much. What do I owe this surprise?”

Why are you trying to stop me from going into the closet door?

“Babe. Please, don’t start. You can go anywhere you like.”

I opened the closet door and found only containers and a few jackets. I closed it and walked over to the couch. I told him to join me so we could talk. It was then, I heard a noise coming from the bedroom. I jumped up and ran to the door. Once I got to the door, I put my hand on the handle and turned the knob. It was locked. I turned around only to find him by the main door.

Shawn. Come and open this door, RIGHT NOW!!!

He began walking towards me with fear in his eyes.

“Babe. I must have accidentally done that. Let me go and get a dinner knife. Maybe I can pry the door open.”

I noticed that he elevated his voice, when he said, “Maybe I can pry the door open.”

I heard wind blowing on the other side of the door. By the time he came back with the dinner knife, I had used force to push open the door. I walked in and saw an opened Magnum wrapper, next to his very messy bed. I noticed that the window was open and it was obvious that whomever was here, had escaped down the fire escape. I smelled the same perfume that was on one of his business jackets a year prior; Jadore. I walked into his walk-in closet and found two women suits, coats, and two shoe boxes. None of these items belonged to me.

“Babe. It isn’t what it appears to be. I let my boy use my apartment earlier. I came in from work and passed out.”

So, you mean to tell me that you jumped right into your bed, knowing that your boy had had sex in it earlier? Then you decide to leave the open condom wrapper on your night stand. Not to mention, you allowed him to let his female friend leave clothing here? Okay, if these items mean nothing, then you won’t mind me throwing them away?

“I snatched the clothing off the hangers and threw them on the ground. I stomped the shoe boxes and threw the shoes at him, in a fit of rage. Within seconds, I collapsed to the floor in emotional pain. I screamed at the top of my lungs and sobbed. I was certain his neighbors would call the police. I didn’t realize that he had his arms around me until I came to my senses. I threw his arms off of me and stormed out, but not before leaving my engagement ring on the kitchen counter.

By the time I reached my car, he was within inches away, still in boxers and barefoot.

“Babe. Wait!”

<To be continued>

Double Standards

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June 20th was a warm day in Brooklyn, when I woke I found myself in a pool of sweat. The room was humid, you almost felt as though you could slice the air like pie. I was rudely awaken from my dream by my obnoxiously loud ringer. I wanted desperately to go back to my dream that involved me marrying Idris Elba. We were about to consummate our union, when the phone disturbed me. Oh well, it was a dream, so nothing to get excited about, thought it felt so real. When I moved my mask from my eyes and grabbed my phone resting on the nightstand, I saw the name and sent the call to voicemail. I know that’s a douche bag move but he wasn’t deserving of an answer.

He called about ten times back to back before I put my phone on silent. I stumbled out of the bed and realized my legs and arms were sore. I don’t recall the woman getting that many swings in but hey, such is life. I walked over to the window in a snail like motion. My head hurt from being hungover and my body ached from fighting. Sadly enough, I had no idea who this woman was, all I knew was she was booed up in a corner with Robert when we walked into Brooklyn Moon. I opened the window and heard the ice cream truck making its way down my block. I was tempted to run down the stairs and get me a cone but was too achy. I felt dehydrated, so I made my way to my kitchen.

When I walked into the kitchen, it was obvious that I brought some of that anger home with me. It looked like I had a fight with my kitchen. The week old bouquet of roses, which was his attempt to get back in my good graces, after I caught him with a woman, two weeks prior, were now on the floor, with the broken vase in a puddle of water. The roses lay on the floor, as dead as our relationship. I looked at my window and beneath the windowsill, laid my once mounted wine rack, and the wine bottles were at the base of the stove, thankfully unbroken. I had way too much Tequila last night. What was I thinking?! Ugh…I should had never let my boy Starrtender convince me to try his new concoction, when I stopped by Milk River. He sure knows how to make a drink. He is so darn heavy handed with his drinks though. Sigh! I surveyed my kitchen and was in shock as to the condition. I began cleaning up but was stopped suddenly by a glass that suddenly pierced my foot. Now I have to deal with a cut under my feet and blood staining my floor.

After I cleaned up the kitchen, I hobbled my now bandage foot into my living room. When I walked into my living room, I saw my home girl Naadira, passed out on my carpet, fully dressed and her “ruby woo” lips, nicely smeared on my cream color carpet. I yelled in the highest octave “Naadira, Get UP!!!” She did not budge. I walked over and nudged her with my feet. “Naadira. Get up babe!” She opened her eyes, like this was the first time she saw the light of day. I was a prick, so I walked over to my drapes and pulled them back, letting in all the BRIGHT sunlight. She sucked her teeth, like a true Trini-woman and cussed me in under her breath, in her Trinidadian jargon.

“Michelle, where’s Paula?” I told her that last I remember, her man escorted her out of the lounge. She told me to check on her to make sure. When I called Paula, she seemed pissed. She began by scolding me about her disappointment in my actions last night. I tried to interrupt and defend myself but she shut me down each time. “Michelle, you are too grown for this kind of behavior. What were you thinking?! We are in our 40’s, you looked like an immature child unable to control herself. Fighting over a man that can’t keep his ding-a-ling in his pants. Stop making excuses for his actions and own the fact that you are taking crumbs from someone unable to give you more.” I was silent and took it all in because everything she said was true. I played myself and made a fool out of myself.

I’ve been with Rob for two years, and caught him cheating four times. The first time was with his second child’s mother. The times after were with women he met at the lounge he owns in BedStuy. I resented him for opening the business. I wanted to partner with him and he told me, that privilege was reserved for his wife. Those words pierced like a knife but I had no fight in me at the time. Although it was my $40,000, he needed in order to get his business up and running. His credit was so crappy so I did like what any good woman would do and gave him the money. I thought I was being a good woman but in actuality, I was foolish for prematurely giving money to someone not willing to give me his last name.

The times I caught Rob fooling around, was not by chance, I had help. One of the security guards that likes me would always send me pics of Rob in action with the caption, “Boys will be boys. When are you going to get with a real man?!” Whenever he sent me these text, I would rush to the lounge but as I got to the door, the other security guard would act like he forgot who I was. I learned that he did that in order to give Rob a heads up that I was there. He would have me wait at the door and go inside and obviously warn my man. By the time I walked in, most of the time, in sneakers, spandex, and a t-shirt, he would have cleaned up his act. I didn’t realize then how crazy I looked walking in there looking crazy, sometimes with my hair pulled back, only thing missing is vaseline on my face.

On May 25th, the disloyal guard wasn’t at the door. My insider was working the door that night and let me in with no issues. I walked in like a hound dog, searching every corner for my cheating behind man. Finally I spotted him, caught in the darkest part of the lounge, kissing on this female I knew from the beauty salon in Clinton Hills. She knew he had a girl but could care less. It turns out that I use to date her baby father, who I wound up cutting off. The vicious cycle is a bit more complex than you’d imagine. I broke up with her baby father to be with Rob, and he broke up with her to be with me. YES, karma is a biatch!!

That night I ran up on them, she saw me coming ahead of time. She got up and positioned herself ready to defend herself. Something within me told me to rush them, so I began running towards them. As I got within arms reach, she swung at me. I ducked, caught her with a right hook to the jaw. Her cheap, .99 cent gold hoop earrings, flew across the room and her head cocked to the right. I went to hit her again but she caught me in the stomach, guess I have to pay better attention in boxing class with my trainer Nay-Shaun. He always tells me that I have a strong jab but I am poor with blocking hits. Well, when I went to kick her, Rob grabbed me by the waist, threw me on his shoulder and hauled me towards the door. I kicked and fought, calling out all kinds of obscene words to her. She stood on the platform of the seated area, smirking at me and blowing kisses. I was so heated but there was nothing I could do as the six security guards held my arms and legs until I was outside of the lounge.

When we got outside, Rob hailed a taxi, gave the driver $30, and told me he’d see me in the morning.  When I got in, I sent him a text so he knew I was safe. It was so odd but he was extremely calm. Not once did he look me in the eye, I could feel his embarrassment, shock, and anger. He arrived at 5 am, slammed the door and walked into the room, seemingly ready to argue. What happened next was something he had never done before. He dragged me out of the bed and pulled me into the living room. The living room was facing the back of the building and no one could hear my screams if he did anything to me there. It’s apparent that he was drunk and was not in his right mind. I screamed as loud as I could but no one came to my rescue. For the next ten times, though it felt like an hour; he beat me. I don’t mean the kind of beating that your parents give you. No, this beating was violent, it was laced with venom and his target was me.

After he grew tired of pounding my face and body with hits, he walked into the bathroom. As I laid on the floor, bleeding from my nose and mouth, all I could do was pray that he would not come back to beat on me some more. Moments later, I heard the shower running. I cried, screamed, but no one was there to hear my plea. At this point, my vision was blurry. I could not see through my black eye. Once he was done with his shower, he went in the room and began watching TV. Not once did he come back to check on me. He left me there on the floor, like a piece of garbage. I must have dozed off for three hours because once I awoke the clock, which was now on the floor, said 8am. The phone ringing was what stirred my slumber. I was sore, weak, and therefore; could not move. I listened for the caller-id to indicate who was calling me this early. I heard it blurt out, “Angela Bryan”, my mother was calling. I tried desperately to crawl as quick as possible to my desk. However, before I could answer, I heard Rob answer the phone in the bedroom, “Good morning! Hi Ms. Bryan! Yes, she’s good. No, she’s in the shower. I will have her call you as soon as she gets out. No problem. Have a great day beautiful!”. He hung up the phone, walked in the living room and said, “…”

Stayed tuned to Part II. Please follow this page for immediate updates on posts.

Let’s not get complicated

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He told me that he wanted to be friends, nothing too serious, just kick it for a bit. I gladly obliged because I told myself that I wasn’t ready to be in anything complicated. We decided to meet up at Red Rooster in Harlem for some drinks. We met up and talked and shortly after decided to head downstairs to Ms. Ginny’s Supper Club. This man is the type of guy that can charm the panties off of you. He oozed sex appeal from his well groomed face, his built body, his tailored suit, and intoxicating fragrance. I was being bewitched by his swag with no protest. I played it cool, not giving him any indication that he had me. Sporadically he would check his phone and excuse himself to take phone calls. In fact, at one point, he left me for more than thirty minutes. If he weren’t so fine, I would have left his rude behind at the restaurant but I overlooked his un-gentleman like behavior. When he returned to the table, he ordered another round of cocktails before we agreed to head back to his loft in Tribeca. The angel on my left shoulder said, “Take your behind home. You know this is going to result in you having regrets in the morning.” On the other hand, the devil on my right shoulder said, “Girl you deserve to get your needs met, look at his lips, they look like they can work magic.”

We jumped in his Benz, parked outside of the restaurant and drove to his sanctuary. When I walked into his place, I took off my shoes and suddenly my body was lifted in mid-air. He hoisted me upon his shoulders and began to inhale my scent, as though he were sniffing a freshly picked rose. My head tilted back in gratification as I waited for his next move. When he carried me into his room, the candles and music took my mind and body to a far away enchantment. I was held captive until he had his way with every inch of my pulsating body. We made music with our bodies until my pelvic bone ached. His lips searched my body, until he discovered the way to make my vocals tremble. I closed my eyes when he went deep into my sea and dived slow and steady. This moment lasted as long as my climax would allow. When it was over, we spooned and dozed off in each others arms.

The morning after

I awoke to a sexy man in his birthday suit with his legs wrapped around me. I snuck out of the bed, as quiet as possible. I decided it wasn’t necessary to awake him and opt for leaving a note on his nightstand. In my mind, I had to leave quickly, last night was too good and I did not want to start catching feelings. Besides, men do it to woman all the time. They are the ones that can have sex and refrain from getting emotionally attached. I felt guilty for leaving that way but shrugged it off immediately. I reminded myself that I didn’t owe him an explanation, this is not meant to be complicated; it’s meant to be casual sex. He called me and was obviously very upset. Thought he did not ask why I left without saying goodbye, I knew he was angry. I ignored his little attitude and offered to take him to dinner the following day.

As the months went on, we became inseparable. The closer we became, the more I saw a future for us. I found myself falling deeply for him and wanted to spend as much time with him as possible. However, after six months of dating, I ended it. I realized that I had not fully healed from my last relationship. It was unfair to string him along and act as though I were ready for this committed relationship. When he was ready, mentally I was not. It was so hard for me to escape the unhealthy thoughts that constantly plagued my mind. The hardest part was letting him go. Frankly speaking, he wasn’t the issue, my broken heart was. I allowed myself to be courted and pursued, even though, I knew I was not ready. I was selfish because although I was not ready for a relationship, I feared another woman having him. I had allowed things to get complicated.

Relationships are not for the faint of heart. To take on the responsibility of someone else heart and emotions is a HUGE responsibility. You have to put in what you want to get out. Before you say you want to be someone’s WOMAN or MAN. You first need to do an assessment of your heart and mind. Personally, when it was time for me to walk away from that relationship, it was the best decision I could have made. It felt great to be brutally honest with myself and stop people pleasing. It is unacceptable to toy with people’s emotions. It took me breaking someone’s heart to learn about my immaturity. Now that I am in a committed relationship, it feels completely different. This time around, I was ready for my man because I gave myself time to heal and work on me. He is now able to get 100% of me, not a fraction. Individuals have to give their hearts time to heal before bringing people into your life. If your wounds from a past relationship are still fresh, don’t get caught up in a relationship.

It would be unfair for your mate to feel as if, they have to constantly be compared to your ex. In fact, if you are still constantly bringing up your ex, maybe, just maybe, you are not completely over them. Never run into a new relationship before you are fully over the previous one. No one deserves to be a REBOUND. Ask yourself this question, how would you feel if you knew someone was using you as a rebound? Would that make you feel secure? Would you feel special? Exactly, you would feel used and hurt. My partner had his share of heartache but he does not crucify me for his former mate transgressions. We are building and forging a healthy and meaningful relationship. The bond that we are creating, nothing and no one can and will come between us; unless we allow them to.

So, when you look at the woman in the picture above, think of strength, endurance, maturity, determination, and contentment. It takes a strong woman to admit her faults and a stronger man to get her to follow his lead.

Can a Man Recover from his Woman Cheating on Him?- Part I “The Love is Gone and our relationship is dead”

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As I sat in the therapist office, my eyes were fixed on the wallpaper. Julia went on and on about what led her to cheat on me. I decided to break my stare from the wallpaper and look in the direction of the therapist. I could not stare at Julia because I was utterly disgusted by her. Dr. Gyepi, sat in his chair jotting down notes, as if whatever he was writing was the antidote to repair our relationship. I only agreed to this therapy session because my mother convinced me to give it a try. Julia is lucky my mother likes her, most mothers would not encourage their sons to reconcile with a cheating fiancee. When it was my turn to speak, I took a deep breath but nothing came out. As I sat there, now looking at Julia, all I could see was Vince kissing on her neck and caressing her thighs. All my emotions resurfaced. I immediately stood up, thanked the doctor for his time and walked out. Before I could reach the elevator, the doctor was behind me. He escorted me to the lobby and asked for a few minutes of my time. He told me that he understood my frustration and disappointment in Julia. However, walking out at this stage, would not bring any resolution to our problem.

As we stood in the lobby and talked, I began to calm down. Shockingly, as I stood there, tightly clutching my fist, a stream of blood flowed onto my jeans. It wasn’t until he pointed it out, that I felt the immediate shock of pain shoot through my arm. The same pain that my body felt, when I caught my fiancee having sex with my cousin. I agreed to go back upstairs, as long as she did not interrupt me when I spoke. He promised me that he would “Manage” the appointment accordingly. We walked back into the room and found her on the phone. As she saw us, she told the caller that she’d call them back and whispered, “I love you too” to whomever was on the receiving end. Immediately, I thought she was on the phone with Vince. I brushed it off and sat down next to her. She scooted over, so she could be next to me but I told her that wasn’t necessary. I gathered my thoughts and asked if I could speak now? He informed Julia that she was not allowed to speak until I was finished. She obliged. I started off by sharing the day leading up to the event.

On the first Saturday in the month of July, I made arrangements to fly back early from a teaching conference in Texas. Delta was able to accommodate me and also waived my ticket change fee. Originally, I was suppose to land at Ronald Reagan International Airport at 1am. Luckily, I was successful in getting on a flight landing by 2pm. Since this was a surprise, I couldn’t have her pick me up, so I made arrangements to have a friend meet me. Everything worked out perfectly because I was able to get her the handbag, shoes, watch, and perfume she wanted. Now, all that was left was to pick up the bouquet of flowers from the florist. As I was on my way home, I sent her a text that read, “Hey babe, so sorry that I won’t be home to ring in your birthday with you. I know you must be disappointed but tomorrow I will make it up to you.” At this point, she still thinks that I am arriving at the usual time.

To my surprise, she did not text me back, which was really odd. Normally, when I send her a text, or vice versa, within minutes their is a response. I chalked it up to her sleeping, since she just did a 12 hour shift at the hospital. As a nurse, she does 12 hours straight for three days in a row. Lucky for me, the next four days she would be off, so we could spend some time planning our upcoming nuptials. I confess, I have not been as involved in the planning process but since we have only three months left, it’s crunch time. My cousin Vince has been very generous with funding the venue (including the food & liquor), paying for the entire bridal party tailored attire, as well as paying for our honeymoon. Vince is a businessman from Ghana, with a net worth of 12 million (USD). Whenever he is in town, he treats us to dinner and on occasion; he takes us shopping. Though I am not comfortable with this treatment, I never want to turn him down, it is perceived as being rude in my culture.

Vince and I grew up as best friends until I was 12 years old and my family decided to move to the United States. We grew apart and developed a competitive streak amongst each other. He started his own Investment Banking firm in Ghana and I became a Professor at a prestigious college. All in all, we are equally proud of each others success. His wife is a doctor and an amazing mother as well. No one could have suspected what was brewing between he and Julia. The betrayal by both of them is beyond words. I mean, he knows all about the “Guy Code”, you never break it! I could never bring myself to tell his wife that whenever he’s in town, he has a hooker to warm his bed every night. Or, that he impregnated one of the nurses at Julia’s job. Sadly, she miscarried at eight weeks into her pregnancy. No, I would never violate, loyalty is what I stand by.

I had Jason drop me off at the end of the block. I did not want to ruin the surprise by getting out in front of the house. I struggled up the block with my luggage, her gifts, and this gargantuan floral arrangement. I kept telling myself, it would be all worth it once her sweet luscious lips kiss me. So I pushed forward towards my home, until stopped by my nosy neighbor. Marsha was sitting in front of her home, smoking a Virginia Slim. I tried to walk faster because she is quite chatty. “Good Evening Jay! How was your trip? You look like you are struggling hunny?” All I could think about was, getting inside and seeing my woman. Hello Marsha! Good to see you. My trip was lovely. Yes, struggling a bit but I will be find, thank you! “So, why didn’t you have the guy in the black Lexus drop you off in front of your house? It seems very odd…but then again, I found it odd when your cousin went to your house today and you weren’t home.” Excuse me! What did you just say?

She pulled her nightgown tightly around her neck, in an effort not show the lack of clothing underneath. Not sure, why a grown woman would be outside with just a robe on. I digress! She asked me to walk closer, stating, “I don’t want no one to hear your business.” I quickly obliged, as I wondered what she meant by my cousin visiting my home. Marsha looked me in the eyes and said that Vince went to the house around 10 this morning and have not left since. She even pointed to his silver S-class Benz parked at the end of the next block. I did an about face and ran to my house. As I got through the front door, I dropped my things at the base of the stairs. I climbed the steps in an antelope kind of stride. Before I opened the door, I put my ear to it and listened. Through the music playing in the backdrop, I heard her moan in sexual bliss. I reached for the door handle and turned slowly.

Thank you for reading Part I of the III Part Series of Jay and Julia. Please stay tuned for Part II

Sincerely,

Khemeka B