Thanks to all those who submitted suggestions for today's blog. The suggestions were:
Serendipity
Tomatoes
Beets
Red Lobster
Spiders
"Ted Kennedy is not like the other Kennedys. Look at him, he's different!"
My god, what a wealth and diversity of input--this is what life's supposed to be like in a post-racial America, people. Good work!!!
So, I write to you now from the 96th Street Public Library, using your words as my muse. Here goes. Although I don't have a good personal story, I think I am finally ready to write the next installment of my Twilight parody. Take in the latest bit of.....
Beaut woke up, groggy as usual. After her fight with Gregory, Beaut was unable to sleep, unable to do anything to calm her nerves. She tried masturbating, which often relaxed her, but even in her liquid dreams, Gregory's amber eyes glowed with anger. She pulled on a t-shirt and jeans, and pulled her hair back, too lazy to brush it. She put on some chapstick, but that was about all she could handle before heading down to breakfast.
Surprisingly, her dad was already at the table, eating a lobster tail. He wasn't wearing any pants.
"Dad, what are you doing?" Beaut asked as she reached in the cupboard for cereal.
"Aw, you know I'm not much of a cook, Beaut," he said sheepishly, wiping the melted butter from his chin. "Plus, I woke up early and this thing just tangled itself up in my net. I had to eat it while it was fresh."
Fresh.
Fresh and untouched like Beaut's womanly body, which hungered for wholeness, for fullness, for Gregory. She thought about last night, before things went sour. She was sure he felt what she felt, and he'd give in to her wishes in time. Maybe he doubted her sincerity, she wondered as she poured milk into her bowl. She sat across from her dad, hoping he hadn't suddenly developed Gregory's ability to read minds. She chewed slowly, thinking of what she could say to make Gregory understand how deep and true her love ran.
"....We should just get away for a couple weeks, for Spring Break, what do you say, Beaut?"
Beaut snapped to attention, and realized her father was talking about taking a trip. For two weeks. There was no way Beaut could be away from Gregory that long. Of course, he'd be able to find her no matter where she was. Whether they went by plane, train, or automobile, he could effortlessly catch up with them. But how to explain to her father her need to go to bed early, her muffled moans, her secrecy?
"That sounds cool, dad, but I was planning on hanging out with friends here."
Matt suddenly became grim, getting the same look on his face that he had when he had a case at the station that he couldn't crack--or when he really had to go to the bathroom.
"You want to hang out with that Gregory Sullen," he said, sighing, and pushing his plate away from the table.
Beaut said nothing. She couldn't bear to lie to her father, so she preferred to say nothing at all.
"Beaut, I've tried to be a cool dad about all this, not butting in, giving you two personal time, keeping my drinking to a minimum in his presence," he began. Beaut took her cereal bowl to the sink to avoid her father's gaze as he went on. "But I just don't like the idea of you getting so serious with this Sullen boy. He's not like the other boys your age. He's like....like Ted Kennedy, the way he's different from the other Kennedys. There's just something off about him--and I don't like his attitude towards the school's hot lunch program."
"Just because he doesn't eat, dad, doesn't mean there's something wrong with him!" Beaut slammed her bowl down, showing an uncharacteristic anger. She hated when her father started in on Gregory, and when he dragged the Kennedy family into this conversation. He never even knew them, just like he didn't know Gregory.
Know Gregory.
That's all Beaut wanted, was to know him--in the biblical way. To feel his cold skin against her heat, to wax his marble skin with her...whatever part of her was analogous. She wasn't really sure, she'd had so little experience. But she knew she'd figure it out if she was only given the chance.
Beaut didn't say all this to her dad, though. She just let him finish.
"But he doesn't eat anything, Beaut. I've never seem him touch meat, which at first I thought was a bit queer, but I've heard of vegetarians, so I let it go," he said, standing and raising his voice. "But when I didn't even see him eat produce--beets, tomatoes, spinach, he just glances right over 'em!-- I know something's not right. Don't talk to me like a fool."
"Fine, dad," she said, averting her eyes so as not to see his dangling junk through his thin boxer shorts. If she didn't want him to talk to him like he was a fool, she wouldn't say anything at all. "I'm gonna be late for school."
Beaut grabbed her jacket and headed out to her car, an old jalopy that was once used to transport geriatric patients to and from the hospital. It couldn't go more than 40 miles an hour, but she loved it. As the car hummed along the road to school, Beaut began to relax. She was excited to see Gregory, and hoped he wouldn't still be angry. She'd already had enough arguing for the day, and wanted nothing more than to know she was loved.
She looked for a parking spot, and instantly saw Gregory. He was leaning against his car, a shiny black Escalade, that he'd gotten from rapper Tupac Shakur as a gift after helping him in a gang fight. He'd offered to change Tupac to one of his own, but the rapper refused, seeking an end to the thug life. Every time she saw his car, or got a glimpse of the spider tattoo on Gregory's shoulder blade, her desire was reignited. It was all she could not to jump on him right there in the lot, rip off his Miu Miu jeans, and have her way with him.
He walked to her door and held it open for her, ever the gentleman. She smiled and he kissed her gently on the lips.
"Gregory, about last night, I--"
Just then the first bell rang. She groaned and Gregory laughed, the haughty laugh of someone who no longer had to even pay attention in class, let alone be on time. But he trotted along quickly, dragging Beaut with him.
"We'll talk about it later," he said.
Who wants more sexual tension?????? I know I do!
Showing posts with label Uncomfortable sexual interactions. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Uncomfortable sexual interactions. Show all posts
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
If You Like Twilight, You'll Love DUSK
Since I’ve given up on men, I’ve started reading the Twilight books to get my fix of the good stuff-- I am all about the sexual tension and abstinence message. In fact, Twilight has inspired me to write a book of my own. I want to share a draft of the first chapter with you now, if you don't mind.
Here’s a bit of a backstory: It’s about a girl—stay with me—and she’s in love with this boy, but he’s not a boy, he’s a vampire. And he’s actually obsessed with the scent of her blood, and it drives him into a sexual frenzy, but he can’t have it or she’ll die. It’s a huge metaphor for blue balls. This is called…
Beaut walked into her house in Spoons, Alaska, and the slamming of the door behind her was almost too much too bear. Although Gregory had just dropped her off 10 minutes ago, it felt like an eternity had already gone by.
Eternity.
That’s all Beaut was asking for. She couldn’t understand why Gregory wouldn’t justbone bite her just once, so she could become like him.
“Beaut, you okay?” Beaut realized she had been standing in front of the door with her eyes closed, lightly swaying, and almost touching her budding breasts. Her father Matt’s gruff, depression-tinged voice snapped her out of her thoughts of Gregory. Matt was a security guard at the local iHop, but everyone in the town came to enforce the law. At the moment he was holding a machete, which he’d been sharpening in the garage before he heard Beaut come in.
“Yeah, Dad, sorry.” She walked into the kitchen and set her bag on the table, turning immediately to the refrigerator. Hopefully he couldn’t see her bright red face.
Her red face.
Embarrassment was the only time Beaut’s pale skin got any color. Well, unless she was with Gregory. One look into his liquid topaz eyes and her face instantly flushed like a toilet—a toilet full of emotion. All of her lips swelled, and she wanted nothing more than to be close to him. But she knew her greatest desire—and Gregory’s, too—could be the very end of them.
You see, Gregory was a vampire. A 347-year-old vampire who didn’t look a day over 18. In fact, he was gorgeous in every sense of the word. His smooth Caucasian skin was colder than the Alaskan winter, but when he stepped into the sunlight, he shone like an Atlantic City stripper dipped in body glitter. Beaut could recall the first day she met Gregory. They were sitting in biology, studying human reproduction, and he refused to look at her. He was shaking slightly, and Beaut thought that maybe the diagrams had him aroused. She tried to ignore it, and smiled, but he just looked away. When class ended, he stormed out—but she could still see the protrusion through his denim cutoffs.
Just then, the phone rang, calling Beaut back to reality. She sprang up to answer it, hoping it was Gregory.
“Hello?” she panted desperately, like a crack addict hoping her dealer had the goods….of sex.
“Hey, Beaut, what’s up?” It was Noah, Beaut’s friend who lived in the trailer park a few miles down. Noah was Beaut’s only friend, and her heart welled up when she heard his voice. She could almost feel his burning hot satiny copper skin and his liquid onyx eyes on her as he spoke.
She walked into the living room, trying to avoid her dad’s gaze. It made him too happy when he knew Noah and Beaut were hanging out, and Beaut couldn’t explain why it was never going to happen.
You see, Noah was a werewolf. And there existed a decades-old feud between the werewolves and vampires—you know, like in the movie “Underworld.” Although it was scary, to her he was the same old tall, lanky, russet-colored Noah, and she loved him.
But not as much as she loved Gregory. Of this she was certain. After their chat Beaut got to work making dinner for her father, who was now sitting on a bearskin rug in the living room, wearing a loincloth. As she gutted the fish he’d caught the day before, the soft, wet insides of the fish mimicked her own softness and wetness, and her thoughts floated again to Gregory.
It was almost 6pm, and she knew Gregory would come to her room after she went to bed. Until then, she would have to keep her mind occupied with dinner, homework, and re-caulking the windows.
Beaut went to bed a little after 10. She was tired, but unable to close her eyes. She changed into the pink nightie she’d purchased at Victoria’s Secret a few weeks before, but hid under the covers. She wanted to tempt Gregory, but not too much. She closed her eyes and found herself drifting off to dreamland despite herself.
That night Beaut dreamed she was in the forest with Gregory. They’d gotten there quickly, her riding on his back. As they came to a clearing he slowed and lowered her to the ground. As she climbed down, they both noticed a wet spot on his back, where hervagina legs had been wrapped around him.
“Sorry,” she said sheepishly.
Gregory grinned, the crooked smile Beaut loved. The fire from his liquid topaz eyes smoldered, lighting the embers that, before him, had died in the campfire of her heart. Even though she knew it would be trouble, she couldn’t help but want s’more.
“It’s okay,” he said.
He put his arms around her waist, and Beaut felt agiant throbbing surge of emotions. In one swift, confident movement, he lowered her to the ground and before she could catch her breath, her top was off, revealing her My Little Pony bra.
Gregory lowered his face to her neck, and Beaut instinctively lifted her hips. She could feel his breath on her neck as he took in her scent. He continued to move southward, and Beaut didn’t stop him. He reached hercrotchal region love garden, and suddenly, Gregory turned angry. He looked up at her, his eyes turning red with fury.
“Beaut, why didn’t you tell me?!” He jumped up and walked away.
“I’m…I’m sorry…I forgot. I thought I was just spotting.”
Beaut had forgotten she had her period, and didn’t warn Gregory. It was always hard for him to be around her during her time of the month. As if the cramps, bloating, and fatigue in those 5 days weren’t enough for Beaut to deal with, she had to be separated from the only thing that mattered to her.
“Gregory, come back!!” Beaut yelled as she scrambled to get dressed. She couldn’t see him anywhere. She began to panic, and being the helpless twit she was, sat and sobbed, praying that Gregory would return.
Just then, Beaut woke up to feel an icy hand on her neck.
“Beaut, wake up,” Gregory said softly. She was shaking in bed, and he was worried. She opened her eyes slowly, making sure she was no longer dreaming. She smiled weakly. “Are you okay?” Gregory asked, concerned. Beaut sighed.
“I can’t even have all of you in my dreams,” Beaut answered, sitting upright.
Gregory saw her pink nightie and looked away, shyly. Beaut also became sheepish.
“You know if there was any way, I would—“ Gregory began.
“There is a way!” Beaut interrupted him.
“I can’t do that to you,” Gregory’s voice, which normally sounded like hot butter melting on a stack of iHop pancakes, became hard. “I want you to live. To have a soul. To not look like you’re going to a boy band concert every time you step out into the sunlight.”
Just then, Beaut kissed him, hoping her lips could change his mind.
They couldn’t.
So that's what happening folks. What do you think? It's currently slated for a Winter 2009 release.
AUTHOR'S NOTE, 10/19/09: Here's chapter 2!
Here’s a bit of a backstory: It’s about a girl—stay with me—and she’s in love with this boy, but he’s not a boy, he’s a vampire. And he’s actually obsessed with the scent of her blood, and it drives him into a sexual frenzy, but he can’t have it or she’ll die. It’s a huge metaphor for blue balls. This is called…
DUSK
Beaut walked into her house in Spoons, Alaska, and the slamming of the door behind her was almost too much too bear. Although Gregory had just dropped her off 10 minutes ago, it felt like an eternity had already gone by.
Eternity.
That’s all Beaut was asking for. She couldn’t understand why Gregory wouldn’t just
“Beaut, you okay?” Beaut realized she had been standing in front of the door with her eyes closed, lightly swaying, and almost touching her budding breasts. Her father Matt’s gruff, depression-tinged voice snapped her out of her thoughts of Gregory. Matt was a security guard at the local iHop, but everyone in the town came to enforce the law. At the moment he was holding a machete, which he’d been sharpening in the garage before he heard Beaut come in.
“Yeah, Dad, sorry.” She walked into the kitchen and set her bag on the table, turning immediately to the refrigerator. Hopefully he couldn’t see her bright red face.
Her red face.
Embarrassment was the only time Beaut’s pale skin got any color. Well, unless she was with Gregory. One look into his liquid topaz eyes and her face instantly flushed like a toilet—a toilet full of emotion. All of her lips swelled, and she wanted nothing more than to be close to him. But she knew her greatest desire—and Gregory’s, too—could be the very end of them.
You see, Gregory was a vampire. A 347-year-old vampire who didn’t look a day over 18. In fact, he was gorgeous in every sense of the word. His smooth Caucasian skin was colder than the Alaskan winter, but when he stepped into the sunlight, he shone like an Atlantic City stripper dipped in body glitter. Beaut could recall the first day she met Gregory. They were sitting in biology, studying human reproduction, and he refused to look at her. He was shaking slightly, and Beaut thought that maybe the diagrams had him aroused. She tried to ignore it, and smiled, but he just looked away. When class ended, he stormed out—but she could still see the protrusion through his denim cutoffs.
Just then, the phone rang, calling Beaut back to reality. She sprang up to answer it, hoping it was Gregory.
“Hello?” she panted desperately, like a crack addict hoping her dealer had the goods….of sex.
“Hey, Beaut, what’s up?” It was Noah, Beaut’s friend who lived in the trailer park a few miles down. Noah was Beaut’s only friend, and her heart welled up when she heard his voice. She could almost feel his burning hot satiny copper skin and his liquid onyx eyes on her as he spoke.
She walked into the living room, trying to avoid her dad’s gaze. It made him too happy when he knew Noah and Beaut were hanging out, and Beaut couldn’t explain why it was never going to happen.
You see, Noah was a werewolf. And there existed a decades-old feud between the werewolves and vampires—
But not as much as she loved Gregory. Of this she was certain. After their chat Beaut got to work making dinner for her father, who was now sitting on a bearskin rug in the living room, wearing a loincloth. As she gutted the fish he’d caught the day before, the soft, wet insides of the fish mimicked her own softness and wetness, and her thoughts floated again to Gregory.
It was almost 6pm, and she knew Gregory would come to her room after she went to bed. Until then, she would have to keep her mind occupied with dinner, homework, and re-caulking the windows.
Beaut went to bed a little after 10. She was tired, but unable to close her eyes. She changed into the pink nightie she’d purchased at Victoria’s Secret a few weeks before, but hid under the covers. She wanted to tempt Gregory, but not too much. She closed her eyes and found herself drifting off to dreamland despite herself.
That night Beaut dreamed she was in the forest with Gregory. They’d gotten there quickly, her riding on his back. As they came to a clearing he slowed and lowered her to the ground. As she climbed down, they both noticed a wet spot on his back, where her
“Sorry,” she said sheepishly.
Gregory grinned, the crooked smile Beaut loved. The fire from his liquid topaz eyes smoldered, lighting the embers that, before him, had died in the campfire of her heart. Even though she knew it would be trouble, she couldn’t help but want s’more.
“It’s okay,” he said.
He put his arms around her waist, and Beaut felt a
Gregory lowered his face to her neck, and Beaut instinctively lifted her hips. She could feel his breath on her neck as he took in her scent. He continued to move southward, and Beaut didn’t stop him. He reached her
“Beaut, why didn’t you tell me?!” He jumped up and walked away.
“I’m…I’m sorry…I forgot. I thought I was just spotting.”
Beaut had forgotten she had her period, and didn’t warn Gregory. It was always hard for him to be around her during her time of the month. As if the cramps, bloating, and fatigue in those 5 days weren’t enough for Beaut to deal with, she had to be separated from the only thing that mattered to her.
“Gregory, come back!!” Beaut yelled as she scrambled to get dressed. She couldn’t see him anywhere. She began to panic, and being the helpless twit she was, sat and sobbed, praying that Gregory would return.
Just then, Beaut woke up to feel an icy hand on her neck.
“Beaut, wake up,” Gregory said softly. She was shaking in bed, and he was worried. She opened her eyes slowly, making sure she was no longer dreaming. She smiled weakly. “Are you okay?” Gregory asked, concerned. Beaut sighed.
“I can’t even have all of you in my dreams,” Beaut answered, sitting upright.
Gregory saw her pink nightie and looked away, shyly. Beaut also became sheepish.
“You know if there was any way, I would—“ Gregory began.
“There is a way!” Beaut interrupted him.
“I can’t do that to you,” Gregory’s voice, which normally sounded like hot butter melting on a stack of iHop pancakes, became hard. “I want you to live. To have a soul. To not look like you’re going to a boy band concert every time you step out into the sunlight.”
Just then, Beaut kissed him, hoping her lips could change his mind.
They couldn’t.
So that's what happening folks. What do you think? It's currently slated for a Winter 2009 release.
AUTHOR'S NOTE, 10/19/09: Here's chapter 2!
Friday, July 11, 2008
To Catch a Predator
I think I may have to leave the hemisphere simply because I’ve gone out with too many guys in New York. For serious.
Last night, I joined White strong black woman Katie Walsh at a networking event for those in the publishing industry. I normally shrink in fear at the idea of swirling my wine glass and explaining my worth to strangers, but if I want to take the blacktress global, I’ve gotta be BLACKtive and show the world what they’re missing. Armed with my biznass cards (holla at a vistaprint.com!), I made my way down to Nolita hotspot Sweet & Vicious.
Once inside, I was greeted with a scent that can only be described as a combination of wheat beer, overpriced margaritas, sweat, and the desire for validation from others. By the time I made my way through the multitude and found my crew, I was sweating like a ho in church—how could I network when I was a hot sweaty mess?
I walked to the back of the bar, in hopes of making it to the outdoor garden for a spot of cool air. Before I could get outside, I was stopped in my tracks by a sight so heinous, my feet when numb.
Mike the Predator.
Mike and I went on a date in the early summer of 2006, shortly after I was emancipated from the shackles of the Deaf. He was probably my fourth “real” date outside of college, and when he ducked out of the bar at 2 am and returned with a bouquet of flowers from a bodega (I kid you not), I thought I’d found a future baby daddy. From Saturday morning until our date on Tuesday, he was all up in my George Foreman (grill) sending texts, leaving messages, and asking me if I “was as excited for the date as he was!”
I was young. I was naïve. I had been weakened by the Deaf. And for some crazy reason, I thought he was seriously just that sprung over the blacktress.
I was wrong.
When we finally went out on our date
He showed up for our date 15 minutes late (-10)
He said he’d have something planned, and then just took me to a nearby bar so he could grab a burger (-5)
He asked me to come over his house and said he’d get a car service to drop me off at home. (ew. -5)
Being the fool I was, I still proceeded to make out with him in a private area of the bar, and after a few minutes, he UNZIPPED HIS PANTS AND PULLED OUT HIS FLACID MEMBER.
I.
KID.
YOU.
NOT.
AAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!
Needless to say, that was our last date.
I remember going home in tears, wondering why in god’s name I was releasing some sort of asshole-attracting pheromone (little did I know this was only the beginning of my dating joys in NYC). Soon after I ended up with the polar opposite of Pervy Mike—the Israeli, vegan, investment banker who did a semester at a black college, and would NEVER pull out his member out of turn.
When I saw Mike networking at Sweet & Vicious, with his slicked back hair and tan suit, he looked like a pimp who worked the docks of Miami, just waiting for an unsuspecting ‘fugee to be taken into his grasp. Or, as Katie put it, “he totally looks like he’d be a sexual predator!”
How right she was.
Being so cramped it was impossible to network or look attractive, I left the bar shortly after arriving. Even Saturday morning, the idea that Mike was still alive, single, and able to stalk new victims still baffled me.
That is, until I met MIKE NUMBER 2!!!!
I was invited to a friend’s engagement party in midtown, where I partook of an open bar and yummy apps. Out of nowhere, I was approached by a clean-looking gentleman with spectacles and well-maintained facial hair. He introduced himself as Mike, and we proceeded to talk for most of the evening.
He was 33, lived in Greenwich, CT, and worked at a hedge fund.
Within an hour, he was asking me if I’d like to come to Connecticut with him.
WTF?!
Honestly, men have lost their minds. His readiness to bed me can only be defined as gall. No—hubris. Yes, hubris and over-weening pride!!!
After taking my number and accepting that I wouldn’t go home with him, I left and headed to another party with a new homegirl who is quickly rising in the ranks, where the theme was ‘bananas’—and it was indeed b-a-n-a-n-a-s, like Gwen Stefani says. There, I danced to Justin Timberlake with a man who can only be described as a walking orgasm.
Seriously, he was hotter than anything I’d ever seen. Even hotter than the crazy Greek.
After three JT jams in a row, we sealed our attraction with a smooch, and I walked off chat with my friend—CAUSE WE DON'T LOVE THEM HOS.
Somehow, me and the “walking O” started to talking again (after my gal pal pointed out that he was “eye-fucking the shit out of me”), and the fact that he HAS A GIRLFRIEND slipped out.
“Oh god, I feel like such a terrible person,” I said. Because, seriously, nothing’s more awkward than feeling like you’ve forced your lips onto someone who didn’t want them.
But I was wrong.
“No, you shouldn’t. I wanted to do it, too.”
OH SNAP!!!
Turned out hottie’s gf not only lived in Brooklyn, she was asleep, at home SICK, as he was flirting with me!!
Now, this is a hot ass mess. A woman can’t even sleep in peace when she’s got a boyfriend—dude will use any sort of excuse to misbehave.
“Oh, well, babe, you were in the middle of your REM sleep, and so I figured it was fair game….”
HUBRIS, OVER-WEENING PRIDE!!!
If I wasn’t certain men were dirty dogs, I then get a call from the bride-to-be from the engagement party and the following rings in my ears at 11am.
“Naomi, I am so glad you didn’t go home with Mike—he has herpes!!”
I KID YOU NOT, Y’ALL!!!
That fool was going to try to get me to cross state lines with him to Connecticut so he could give me herpes—the gift that keeps on giving!!!
Look, I know STD talk isn’t sexy, and is often quite difficult, but you better disclose that info ASAP—I’m not trying to be one of those couples in a kayak (“he has it. I don’t.”)!!!!
So, over the weekend, from Thursday to Sunday, I learned the following:
1. A man who pulled his P out in a bar WILL live to the tell the tale—even if you’d hoped he was dead in a ditch.
2. People in Greenwich have herpes—STDs aren’t just for the lower class!
3. A man who is hotter than Ethan Hawke making out with Angelina Jolie while James McAvoy watches DOES have a girlfriend, and WILL still make out with you.
4. "To Catch a Predator" needs to extend its search to working young men in NYC.
5. HUBRIS IS EVERYWHERE!!!!
Last night, I joined White strong black woman Katie Walsh at a networking event for those in the publishing industry. I normally shrink in fear at the idea of swirling my wine glass and explaining my worth to strangers, but if I want to take the blacktress global, I’ve gotta be BLACKtive and show the world what they’re missing. Armed with my biznass cards (holla at a vistaprint.com!), I made my way down to Nolita hotspot Sweet & Vicious.
Once inside, I was greeted with a scent that can only be described as a combination of wheat beer, overpriced margaritas, sweat, and the desire for validation from others. By the time I made my way through the multitude and found my crew, I was sweating like a ho in church—how could I network when I was a hot sweaty mess?
I walked to the back of the bar, in hopes of making it to the outdoor garden for a spot of cool air. Before I could get outside, I was stopped in my tracks by a sight so heinous, my feet when numb.
Mike the Predator.
Mike and I went on a date in the early summer of 2006, shortly after I was emancipated from the shackles of the Deaf. He was probably my fourth “real” date outside of college, and when he ducked out of the bar at 2 am and returned with a bouquet of flowers from a bodega (I kid you not), I thought I’d found a future baby daddy. From Saturday morning until our date on Tuesday, he was all up in my George Foreman (grill) sending texts, leaving messages, and asking me if I “was as excited for the date as he was!”
I was young. I was naïve. I had been weakened by the Deaf. And for some crazy reason, I thought he was seriously just that sprung over the blacktress.
I was wrong.
When we finally went out on our date
He showed up for our date 15 minutes late (-10)
He said he’d have something planned, and then just took me to a nearby bar so he could grab a burger (-5)
He asked me to come over his house and said he’d get a car service to drop me off at home. (ew. -5)
Being the fool I was, I still proceeded to make out with him in a private area of the bar, and after a few minutes, he UNZIPPED HIS PANTS AND PULLED OUT HIS FLACID MEMBER.
I.
KID.
YOU.
NOT.
AAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!
Needless to say, that was our last date.
I remember going home in tears, wondering why in god’s name I was releasing some sort of asshole-attracting pheromone (little did I know this was only the beginning of my dating joys in NYC). Soon after I ended up with the polar opposite of Pervy Mike—the Israeli, vegan, investment banker who did a semester at a black college, and would NEVER pull out his member out of turn.
When I saw Mike networking at Sweet & Vicious, with his slicked back hair and tan suit, he looked like a pimp who worked the docks of Miami, just waiting for an unsuspecting ‘fugee to be taken into his grasp. Or, as Katie put it, “he totally looks like he’d be a sexual predator!”
How right she was.
Being so cramped it was impossible to network or look attractive, I left the bar shortly after arriving. Even Saturday morning, the idea that Mike was still alive, single, and able to stalk new victims still baffled me.
That is, until I met MIKE NUMBER 2!!!!
I was invited to a friend’s engagement party in midtown, where I partook of an open bar and yummy apps. Out of nowhere, I was approached by a clean-looking gentleman with spectacles and well-maintained facial hair. He introduced himself as Mike, and we proceeded to talk for most of the evening.
He was 33, lived in Greenwich, CT, and worked at a hedge fund.
Within an hour, he was asking me if I’d like to come to Connecticut with him.
WTF?!
Honestly, men have lost their minds. His readiness to bed me can only be defined as gall. No—hubris. Yes, hubris and over-weening pride!!!
After taking my number and accepting that I wouldn’t go home with him, I left and headed to another party with a new homegirl who is quickly rising in the ranks, where the theme was ‘bananas’—and it was indeed b-a-n-a-n-a-s, like Gwen Stefani says. There, I danced to Justin Timberlake with a man who can only be described as a walking orgasm.
Seriously, he was hotter than anything I’d ever seen. Even hotter than the crazy Greek.
After three JT jams in a row, we sealed our attraction with a smooch, and I walked off chat with my friend—CAUSE WE DON'T LOVE THEM HOS.
Somehow, me and the “walking O” started to talking again (after my gal pal pointed out that he was “eye-fucking the shit out of me”), and the fact that he HAS A GIRLFRIEND slipped out.
“Oh god, I feel like such a terrible person,” I said. Because, seriously, nothing’s more awkward than feeling like you’ve forced your lips onto someone who didn’t want them.
But I was wrong.
“No, you shouldn’t. I wanted to do it, too.”
OH SNAP!!!
Turned out hottie’s gf not only lived in Brooklyn, she was asleep, at home SICK, as he was flirting with me!!
Now, this is a hot ass mess. A woman can’t even sleep in peace when she’s got a boyfriend—dude will use any sort of excuse to misbehave.
“Oh, well, babe, you were in the middle of your REM sleep, and so I figured it was fair game….”
HUBRIS, OVER-WEENING PRIDE!!!
If I wasn’t certain men were dirty dogs, I then get a call from the bride-to-be from the engagement party and the following rings in my ears at 11am.
“Naomi, I am so glad you didn’t go home with Mike—he has herpes!!”
I KID YOU NOT, Y’ALL!!!
That fool was going to try to get me to cross state lines with him to Connecticut so he could give me herpes—the gift that keeps on giving!!!
Look, I know STD talk isn’t sexy, and is often quite difficult, but you better disclose that info ASAP—I’m not trying to be one of those couples in a kayak (“he has it. I don’t.”)!!!!
So, over the weekend, from Thursday to Sunday, I learned the following:
1. A man who pulled his P out in a bar WILL live to the tell the tale—even if you’d hoped he was dead in a ditch.
2. People in Greenwich have herpes—STDs aren’t just for the lower class!
3. A man who is hotter than Ethan Hawke making out with Angelina Jolie while James McAvoy watches DOES have a girlfriend, and WILL still make out with you.
4. "To Catch a Predator" needs to extend its search to working young men in NYC.
5. HUBRIS IS EVERYWHERE!!!!
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