Cocainedick

11:57 PM

(pic source: kaboodle.com)
This past week has been nothing short of an emotional roller-coaster, in my own private amusement park. Now how's that for an oxymoron: amusement! There sure as heck isn't anything remotely funny in my world at the present time. In fact I've spent half of today crying, and the other half in a haze of confusion. How is it that the week begins in a satisfactory state of euphoria, where I was getting my physical needs met (getting high off dick), and the week concludes with me losing the supply and the supplier? It's like learning that your unemployment benefits are being terminated for no "real" reason, and with no warning. I am officially going through withdrawals.

All I know is that last Monday night began when my job ended at 11:00. I rushed home to jump in the shower, lathering, shaving carefully and applying the Brown Sugar/Honey scrub all over. I was growing more tired than horny but he and I already promised each other that we would hook up for the night since I had Tuesday off (and could sleep in most of the day). His house was less than ten minutes away and I knew once I got back outside the fall air would wake me back up, and knock me back into my senses. My drug of choice was waiting...

About three months ago I met the parking lot kissin' dude. He stood at 6'2, caramel complexion, and kissed me in front of his Benz for what seemed like forever. I forgot we were in broad daylight for a moment. I knew then that nothing more substantial would become of the two of us, and I was okay with that. I'd continue to meet other men and soon I would meet the other Mr. Caramel (who turned out to be the biggest jerk by the way). Then I saw kissin' dude online on ___.com, typed a "hello" and we engaged in an exchange of sarcasm and jokes for about ten minutes. Eventually I would agree to a visit for drinks. "Oh...you mean TONIGHT?" Of course he did, he was never one for bullshytting. He has a fabulous bar built next to the living room anyway, so an hour later, off I went. True to form his lips met mine for the most dramatic kiss when I had arrived. He made the best apple martinis and although I was feeling the drinks I wasn't too tipsy. This means I was well aware of what was to come. What I wasn't aware of, however, was that I would come hard on his dick with my brown cheeks in the air as he hit it from the back. Damn I was missing out on the goodness; I swore I wouldn't deprive myself of any future dick-o-tunities. I was falling into an abyss of pleasure that I hadn't felt in a while, (in years...even with the ex) and on the days to follow, I would live life as a functioning addict. So damned sprung.

I knew what was in store and there was no need in the formalities at this point. Instead of going for glam with a cute pair of lingerie, I reached for some black leggings a tank top and the Ravens hoodie. Nope, no undies. It was almost midnight...what was the point? Patrice Rushen and I are beaming down empty streets of East Charlotte. She sang Settle For My Love while I noticed how the dark sky seemed so bright for midnight. The car was also filled with the hints of brown sugar from the scrub and filled with my thoughts, my anticipation. Minutes later I pull into his garage and no sooner than I unzip my boots we're talking, or rather, he's talking... a LOT. He loves to talk. He is so damned country as well, but his looks made up for it.

He's trying to hold pointless convos and because I was tired from working I was about two minutes from sleeping on the couch. He was excited about re-installing DirecTV, in the living room and four other rooms. I was supposed to have noticed the monumental change of entertainment equipment, as we had watched football and Boardwalk Empire via cable during our last encounter. *insert sarcastic chuckle here*

Sorry but do I look like I care about any of this after midnight?

In the bedroom he finds other shyt to talk about, but by this time I'm halfway naked, wearing my ex's wife-beater. Yes! Call it twisted but it's my way of saying eff you to dude. This was a triple X tank which showed my breasts on the sides. I have about three of those shirts but I doubt if he's missing them: the weekend before moving out of B'more I was doing laundry, washing and folding the whites and packed all the clothes I wouldn't be wearing in the two days to come. Those shirts accidentally fell in line with my own tees and tanks.

Still he talked as I stood there with my legs glistening and looking more defined than usual from the oils in the scrub. This time, we're discussing ___.com. He starts bitching about a member, another chick (smh) and how she confronted him about an arrest she found. His arrest. I believe in second chances and although he didn't give a full explanation, I was okay with the arrest and blew off the announcement on some "everyone has a past". We jumped in the bed and before I fell asleep his lips followed the trail from my navel to my thighs. Okay, I'm so awake now!

The next day we laid there and listened to one of his two dogs snoring. He has two pits, male and female. The male was super friendly, always greeting me when he saw me, while the female didn't give a fuck at all. Typical! Since we were awake again (the first time he woke me up for morning sex) I checked my phone for messages. There was one from one of our sponsors, Voices of Urban, reminding me to submit the weekly column. Dude wanted to talk about stuff so while he found shyt to ramble about I commenced to typing my article. It was about casual sex and how, as a single woman, I'm all for it. Well...at least I was all for it...

Who knew that when I left his house, my dick supply would be terminated?

I wasn't going to confirm old girl's findings but the following days after we met up, he grew reclusive as hell. We always talked and texted when we didn't see each other. That's when I had to know if he was still in the game. Again, I can do "pasts", but don't eff with my present and future!
Come to find this was a July arrest...this is NOT a past. He was charged with cocaine dealing, selling, possessing, and anything else that Mecklenburg County could conjure up for an arrest.

The following morning I called him and after listening for five minutes to him joking around (I didn't hear a word he said...I didn't call him to laugh) I blurted, "are you still selling?" He paused, then said he never was selling and that the case was dismissed. Then said we can't kick it anymore and hung up. Told me not to contact him anymore. Yes, we were just f-buddies but I looked at my phone, stunned at his response.
Damn...it's like THAT now?

For the next two days I found myself debating where I shouldn't be debating: should I have given him a chance to come around to tell me? Perhaps he didn't feel comfortable telling me just yet. I need these thoughts to pour out of me and into the garbage. It's ridiculous. Unheard of. It caused me to sit up on the corner of my bed, hugging myself. I am mourning the loss of my supply.

I dunno why it's still hurting. Why it's hurting at all?

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4 comments

  1. Girl, I am so glad you kicked him all the way to the curb. He wasn't man enough to tell you the full story.

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  2. Thanks but I am still second-guessing my decision.

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  3. Needless to say, welcome to a (certain) man's world...

    Either way, it's sad and discomforting...

    You'll be ok...

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  4. Thanks anon. Today is a new day and I feel better about my choice to speak to him about this. No man is good enough to put my life in jeopardy. In doing research for the column it appears that I'd experience a severe case of being soul tied. Look for the column coming soon, at www.voicesofurban.org .

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