Working Nights

20131012-024951.jpg I want to be successful.

I can’t tell you when it happened, when I started to come to work sick. When I started to work nights and weekends when I really didn’t have to. Writing articles about movies and cologne and political events just to network. At some point it clicked and I realized I like climbing to higher levels.

There’s a downside though. I wonder what’s going to happen when I get serious with someone. Is she going to accept eating dinner alone or sleeping alone or me needing to meet a writing deadline after I’ve been working all day?

Even now, I think about all the women I know. I wonder if any if them are thinking about me. If there’s someone I dated a month ago, a year ago, that masturbates to the moments we shared. If she’s leaving the club and is fighting the urge to text me. If she gets home and checks my Facebook or Instagram?

It’s important to me that I’m thought of, that I’m missed, that I’m desired. I’m at work right now not because I’m getting overtime or to impress my boss. I’m here because I want this road to look good so that I look good. I’m here to build a professional reputation that will make my “her” proud of me.

I know what it’s like to have s father I’m ashamed of. That won’t be my children, they won’t struggle or wonder about me. They won’t see me mistreat their mom or lie on the couch.

Forever Isn’t Long Enough

flowers Sitting at my desk listening to Teddy Pendergrass, drinking this last bit of rum and juice seeing my forever in front of me I can’t help but to smile. I’ve sort of gotten away from writing about love and marriage and being lonely. I’ve made an effort not to write about how much I’m looking forward to seeing you walk down the aisle.

I’ve stopped writing about how I’ve thought about everything from how I’ll propose to you to where we’ll make love for the first time as husband and wife. In the limo after the ceremony. In the hotel room on the floor. Will your dress be too fluffy for me to bring you to ecstasy while you have it on? Will it be different, will it feel different? I started pretending like my novel isn’t about marriage and commitment. I stopped being me because I was worrying about what people would think. Is he lonely, is he sad, did someone break his heart? I couldn’t be that guy you see, I didn’t want to be perceived like that. Why not though? What’s the matter with being the guy that wants a wife? What’s the matter with being the man that looks forward to watching you stress about flowers and bridesmaids and who’s going to move in with who?

Stairway to Heaven is playing as I’m typing and I can’t stop smiling, I can’t stop bouncing my leg and bobbing my head to the music. Maybe I’m drunk, I don’t think so, but maybe. I can see you standing in front of my desk, slow dancing, smiling, twirling and almost falling. I can see the happiness in your eyes, I can see your bare feet on the hardwood floors. “Put your hand in mine and come on this stairway to Heaven with me.” There’s no question mark because I’m not asking, I’m telling.

My entire life I’ve felt alone. Never really had a bestfriend, I didn’t get to know my brother until I was in my 20’s. My family is the coolest and most supportive people you’ll ever meet but even with them I’ve just always had a spot inside of me they couldn’t get to. A spot that I’ve always known is reserved for you, a spot that’s reserved for our love. My family is my family and that will never change! But my forever, my life, my heart, my bestfriend and lover and secret barer will be you. I’m 30 and I’ve never been completely honest with anyone in my life.

I can’t wait to sit up on nights when we can’t sleep and just talk. That’s all really. You’ll think I’m crazy but do you know I’ve never just sat up and talked with a woman all night. No sex, no falling asleep with her head on my lap. I’d like that, I want that. To just talk about old movies, old loves, our parents. I feel like I’m an orphan at times, not physically but mentally. A father that sees me and doesn’t know who I am, literally doesn’t know who I am because he’s so drunk. A mother that wasn’t ready to be a mom when she had me. I want to rub your stomach and tell you about how that made me fell. I need to listen to you talk about when you were at your lowest point so that I can never take you to that place. So that I can protect you and hate who you hate, love who you love, appreciate who protected you before me.

Forever isn’t long enough because I’ve already spent 30 years without you. You understand that right? I need you to understand that babe. I need you to get that I wouldn’t be ashamed to cry if I met you and lost you. I wouldn’t be afraid to show up and tell you that I waited for you so long that I can’t imagine life without you. That shit scares the hell out of me! Knowing that when that moment comes my life won’t be my life anymore. It excites me but scares me at the same damn time! I’m ready to be in love, to really be in “you love me like I love you love.”

It’s 1am, who’s up reading at 1am? Maybe you are, hopefully you are. Maybe you aren’t but who cares right. I’m speaking it into existence. People like my writing, people really read it and enjoy it, I take pride in that. I want you to be proud of me, I want you to motivate and inspire me. I want your naked body to be my muse. I need your skin to be my canvas, I need my tongue to be a paint brush. I like giving oral, I haven’t written that before, not as me. But I really like knowing the woman I’m with is pleased. I haven’t done it in awhile, do you know why? I realized I don’t want to be the guy that’s fucking and licking on someone that isn’t you. It’s you I want on the tip of my tongue, it’s you I want naked sitting on my desk when you’re horny. I want to put a son into you!

I’ll chill now before I say too much, before too much of who I am comes out in these words.

I Love You Until Forever Isn’t Forever…

Lust vs. Love and Everything In-Between

a untitled nyeMy deepest fear isn’t that I’m not good enough for the world, it isn’t that my words won’t touch a million people. I believe in my craft, I have faith in my talent. I have no fear in disappointing them out there, they’ll love one story I write and hate the next book. My deepest fear is not knowing whether or not you’re proud of me.

Haunting my dreams.

Stalking my thoughts.

My words are motivated by the orgasms we’ve shared. The strokes on the keypad can never compare to the strokes across your skin. I hurt you, I broke your heart. No matter my intentions, that’s what happened and I want to love you but I know I can’t.

Loving you is poison baked in a perfectly baked cookie. Sweet, moist, tasty, perfect… but once it’s inside of me it destroys me. How can you love what destroys you? How can you need what has the potential to break you?

I’ve been traveling more lately, spending more nights in hotel rooms. Talking to strangers at restaurant bars, finding solace in my thoughts. Finding prison in my thoughts.

Don’t you ever tell me you don’t love me, I can see it in your eyes. Don’t you ever tell me you don’t need me, I can feel it between your thighs. Your mouth tells me no, your words say stop, but your body trembles. No lace, no cotton, no silk can hide the way your nipples respond to my voice. No door, no screen, no wall can stop me from hearing the emotion in your words.

Lust is such an interesting word. Need, desire, want, hunger… Lust is the word that comes to mind when I can’t sleep and I see your naked body with my eyes wide open. Lust is the word that comes to mind when your moans are ghost under the steam of the shower. Don’t tell me you don’t love me because watching you look back at me, caramel skin on white sheets. Sweat and intensity on a perfect face, if that’s not love… If that’s not love it’s lust and accepting that isn’t something my love can handle.

Goodnight.

 

Finding A Better You…

imagesCAWYOAZSIt’s not a weak trait to admit you miss someone.

It’s not unmanly to say that you’re afraid you’ll never find someone to replace what she did for you mentally. To replace the inspiration, the encouragement she gave you.

Going crazy thinking about the if’s, buts’ and why’s… That’s natural, it’s a part of life, a part of what makes us human. It’s so easy to focus on the bad times, to focus on what makes you hate someone that you forget what they added to your life.

I’ll stop talking in second person now.

I changed my number last year, the number I’ve had for 10 years because it was easier to change a number than it was to not talk to her. It was easier to take off days from work and write, drink, clear my mind than it was to think about her and still try and focus. I have no desire to talk to her again but that doesn’t mean I don’t lose sleep over losing the best friend I’ve had in awhile.

See, being single is sort of like playing Russian Roulette. You have to pull the trigger and hope it doesn’t kill you. Single is something I don’t do well, I mean, I do it very well on a social level but on a mental level…

Whoever reads this, I want you to read what I’m about to write very carefully.

LIVE YOUR LIFE FOR YOUR CAREER, YOUR FAMILY AND YOUR PASSIONS… IF YOU’RE GOING TO BE SINGLE, BE SINGLE ALL THE WAY! IF YOU WANT SOMEONE IN YOUR LIFE, FIGHT FOR IT ALL THE WAY! THERE IS NO INBETWEEN…

I’ve been single for a long time; I’ve dated and I’ve had these semi “situations” but I haven’t a girlfriend or woman to call my own in some time. I’m starting to forget what that’s like and I think that’s why I get so hopeful when a situation comes along.

I speak about sex a lot, I love sensuality, sex, freaky women and things but more than all that. I miss having that friendship that comes with mutual chemistry, that comes with being comfortable with someone.

Friendships mean the world to me, I can be a very engaging man but I’m also difficult so when I meet people that can click with me… I try so hard and maybe I push them away.

I’ll write I’m having a bad day on FB and she would call just to see what was the matter.

I would write a note and she would text me to tell me what I could have done better.

I could be sitting in a bar looking a drink I know I didn’t need and she would just have perfect timing, saving me from myself.

Loving women hard and fast comes so natural to me that one becoming my best friend is just going to happen, it’s like a force of nature.

There were dozens of reasons why she was not what I needed but she was what I needed in that moment in time. And I know now that there will be someone like her, someone better than her and that ties in to my marriage note from last night.

When you go thru a bad situation or not even a bad situation… But a situation that just doesn’t work out you tend to think the worse but it’s the opposite for me. I look forward to these moments because I know they are preparing me for something better.

My life is on an upward swing right now, I’m writing and my birthday will be in a couple of weeks. I have two novels I’m co-writing and Conversations Between Adults is still going strong; I even have a web series coming out. I’m blessed and more than a woman, more than sexual congratulations, I just look forward to someone like her but that’s meant for me to share this with.

People will read this and think it’s about a certain woman and a part of it is but it’s more than that. It’s about all the women I’ve met over these past couple years. Each one came into my life and I wanted the next one to be someone better than her, someone like her but with more patience or better lips.

They say you find what you’re looking for when you stop looking; I think that’s bullshit. When you’re hungry you never stop looking for food.

I’m not the type of man to run away from responsibility; most of the women I’ve lost… I’ve lost because of my shortcomings, mistakes, insecurities I’ve had. I can accept that but I can accept that I know I’m destined to find someone that’s not only like those women but that’s better than those women.

Not better as a woman or better as a person but better for me.

It’s Sunday morning and I’m Demez F. White, author of Walking Down the Aisle and a future great husband and father. Time flies, spend it loving your life and loving people that will love you back.

I promise you that your time will come like I know my time will come. The glass is always half full, not half empty.

Love is War Passion Pleasure Pain and Fear…

Couple holding handsLove is War

Love is war because love is fighting for what you want. Fighting for what you believe will make you happy. Fighting for that woman that will change your life for the better. War isn’t sexy or romantic or sweet. War leaves wounds and scratches and causes nightmares and there’s no graceful defeat if you lose because to lose means to have your heart ripped out. Love is war and love is worth the price of war!

Love is Passion

Love is cold wine and hot sex. Love is arguments that seem some intense and serious but only lead to sex on the couch and pallets on the living room floor. Love is jealousy and insecurity because you don’t think it’s possible for someone to be as passionate about you as you are about them. Love is watching her cry and wanting to absorb that pain so that she never feels it again. Love is passion and passion is violent and sexy and gives us life!

Love is Pleasure

Love is the feeling of her legs wrapped around your legs on a rainy Saturday morning. Love is that sensation you feel before you place yourself inside of her. Love is her skin moist from just getting out of the shower. Love is her heart racing because your tongue is racing. Love is hard nipples and goosebumps. Love is wet lips and wet spots. Love is explicit good morning text and panties in her purse. Love is pleasure and pleasure is addictive.

Love is Pain

Love is not being able to eat when she doesn’t answer your phone calls. Love is a pounding headache when she’s mad at you for not bringing her something to eat because she’s cramping. Love is that moment of emptiness when you’re inches away from her but she doesn’t want you to kiss her. Love is pain because true love affects not just our heart but our physical being.

Love is Fear

Love is wanting her so much that you’re afraid everytime you talk to her will be the last time. Love is seeing her talk to another man, smile at another man, laugh with another man and wanting to destroy him! To make his life a living hell just because he’s getting some of her. Love is her telling you she needs space and you fearing the worst. Love is crying in the dark because you know she doesn’t love you like you love her and that fear is tearing at your essence. Love is being scared that you can’t please her, that can’t give her what she had before you or what she desires. Love is fear and fear makes us work that much harder for the love we crave.

Love is a lot of things but most importantly love is worth all those things because to be single, to be without that feeling of love…. It allows you to appreciate everything that comes with it, all the emotions, all the passions, all the fears and tears.

I love the idea of love because I’ve loved and lost and realize how much better than made me.

 

 

I’ve Been Thinking About Forever…

Dear You,

I haven’t been feeling well these past couple days, I didn’t even get out the bed until noon today. I’m about to go outside and do some yard work to try and shake off this cold or flu or just loneliness. But before I did that I wanted to write to you and just let you know I miss you.

I went and saw Twilight and the new James Bond over the weekend, I couldn’t help but think how much cooler it would have been with you. I actually wore sweat pants and Jordans, can you believe that? I was getting clothes ready and then it hit me… I’m going to the movies alone at 11am on a Saturday, there’s no need to get extra fly. I was sitting outside the theatre waiting for the movie the start and I could see you sitting across from me, smiling, sneaking candy out of your purse. Talking about people walking by but not being too mean about it.

Sitting in the movies, seeing other couples, it hurt.

If I could go back and do it again God knows I would do it over, I would do it differently. You’d be proud to know I’m not drinking as much anymore and I’m back to writing every day. I’ve started back cooking too, I sort of gave it up for awhile.

You could never really understand how much I miss you because I don’t think you were ever really for me. I think you were God’s way of giving me a preview of what I wanted, of what I needed. I just hope you’re happy.

Honestly, I can spend the rest of my life in the state of mind I’m in if it means you’re smiling. That’s the sacrifice I’m willing to make. I wouldn’t call it a deal with the devil but I would call it my way of repenting for hurting you.

Out of all the women I’ve known in my these 29.8 years of my life I can honestly say you’re the only one that has ever moved me without a kiss, a touch, any of that. It was never about that. It was about your passion for doing what you loved, it was about how you were the most beautiful woman in the room and never used it to your advantage. It was about how your faith and morals were more important than commercial success. I don’t know the guy and I’ll probably never get to know him but I just hope to God he knows what he has in you.

I go days, weeks, months without looking at your picture.

I haven’t thought about texting you or calling you for even longer stretches of time.

But just know you’re never too far from my thoughts. I’m far too prideful to make a fool of myself but just know I miss you. The little time I had with you impacted me and for that I’m grateful.

 

Sincerely Yours,

Demez

Poisoned Love…

I’ve never seen a train wreck or accident in real life.

I’ve never seen dog get hit by a car or a bird fly into a window.

Her scream, her pain, her sorrow were enough to last me for a lifetime. I would go the rest of my life trying to get the look on her face and the sound of her scream out of my head. I hated him but I loved him, I wanted him but she needed him. The knife came out of her jacket pocket so fast and seeing the blood on her hands, watching him fall to his knees and press his hand on her bulging stomach our love affair seemed so insignificant.

The music seemed to stop playing, people stopped laughing and talking and the world became black.

I wanted to go fall by his side and hold him while he held her, I wanted to cover his bloody hand with mine to let him know everything would be okay. But that was their space, her blood, his child’s blood, there was no room for me. My friends were grabbing me, trying to get me to leave. You don’t need to see this they said, this isn’t your fault they said. She’ll be alright they said… But there was too much blood and this was my fault. I should have never called him.

How do you live with some shit like this?

Was it selfish that all I could think about was how that child no longer made things complicated? I’d closed off my heart after him and once I heard his voice the ice broke with a quickness. Now… His world was broken.