Don’t Make Me Pay For His Mistakes

black woman crying There is nothing the matter with wanting love, there’s nothing the matter with looking forward to cooking dinner for someone or going to wine fest and iFest and Jazzfest drinking wine and holding hands. I’ve written this before and I’ll write it again, men and women are created for each other. Our bodies fit like puzzle pieces, our hormones match and make perfect DNA resemblances of us. That’s worth fighting for.

Just because he screwed up doesn’t mean I will. Just because he lied about where he was when you called or cancelled one too many date nights doesn’t mean that’s in me. I don’t have to add your friends on Facebook because they’re cute, I don’t need your cousins phone number because you’re cool with her. This may not be the modest thing to say but, “I’m a better man than him so don’t compare us, don’t hold me accountable for his mistakes.” Making me pay for his faults will only push me away, it will only hurt both of us. Me, because I have to live with not making you happy and you… because you deserve to be happy. Life moves on, move on from what he did and take my hand into a new world.

All men aren’t created equal, maybe he was hurt by another woman, maybe he has mother issues but that’s not your fault. You can’t teach a man how to be a man. You can’t let him go from his mother’s house to your house and expect that he’s going to grow up. Dealing with that selfishness, dealing with that insecurity, that’s going to make it hell for the next man but if he loves you he’ll deal with that hell to get to heaven. It’s not just on him though, you have to do your part and open up your heart and get past that hurt.

It stormed and flooded on Saturday, in less than four hours people were stranded in parking lots and stuck in water. Plans were cancelled and power was out. Less than 12 hours later the sun was shining, not a cloud in the sky, and it was just a picture perfect day. You know what that tells me, it tells me life goes on and no matter how nasty the storm and how long it lasts, there will always be a sunny day coming.

Don’t spend so much energy focusing on your storm that you have no energy left to enjoy the sunny day.

Demez

Capture the Mind; the Heart and Body Will Follow…

521747_661840235885_118401058_31768289_1343921451_nHave you ever had a really good conversation with someone? They call you at 8pm and the next thing you know you yawn and it’s 11pm on a Monday night. You’re looking at that phone thinking, “How in the world did we just talk for 3 hours?” That’s chemistry, that’s a connection, that’s the knock on the door to something so much more. It all starts with the mind, with that mental ability to connect. Next comes the heart, that feeling of fear when it’s raining and you don’t know if she’s made it home okay. That pause before you comment on a Facebook picture of the girl with the big ass knowing she may see it and it may hurt her feelings. That’s you worrying about her heart. And last comes the body, that moment when you touch her and there’s no guilt, no wondering if it’s okay that your hand slides up her thigh. You know because you have her mind and heart and she wants to give you her body just as much as you want to take it.

Most of my writing is based on the premise that when you find someone worth giving up everyone else for you don’t have to think about it. There’s no long days at work wondering if you should go out with Kim or Stacy; there’s no getting good news and scrolling thru your phone wondering who you should share it with. Her name pops up in your brain like a new casino on the Vegas Strip. The great women get in your head and they camp there until you don’t care that she’s complaining or cramping or hates Kobe. When you fall in love with God they say you love the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. Well, when you fall in love with a woman, you love the mind, the heart and the body.

I’m just a guy that knows what I want is more than a check list of qualities, it’s a feeling that I’m going to get when I’m around her. There are plenty of really great women that just aren’t for me and I’m sure there’s plenty of guys that are cool as hell that some women just don’t get that “quiver” for. It’s a three step process, you can’t control it, you just have to brace for it when it comes. I write about desire, lust, passion and love because that makes life go.

A woman post a status on Facebook or a Tweet or an Instagram about not wanting to eat dinner alone and she gets several messages or texts from men asking, “What about me?” A man says that he’s lonely or wants a wife; needs someone to talk to or share good news with. There’s several women saying, “Why not me?” What we all have to understand is that we may meet the qualifications that someone says they want, but that doesn’t mean they want us. Sometimes eating alone, having a drink at the bar, cooking a great meal that no one else will taste is better company than having someone there who you just aren’t that into.

I Need You…

dress naked“Can you unzip my dress?”

She was acting like he hadn’t been calling her for the past two days. Like she hadn’t been ignoring his calls and texts. Like he hadn’t seen her on FB and twitter posting pictures and statuses and tweeting like she was having the time of her life.

But how could he expect her to know how pissed off he was if she was standing in his living room with her back turned to him. Her dress sitting slightly below her ass, her shoulders bare, her coat sitting on the arm of his chair.

“Where have you been Kortney?”

He already knew the answer to her question. He’d been losing his mind waiting on her to call, waiting on her to text, waiting on her to understand he was a better option than any man out there. He already knew she wanted to run wild and he was trying to tame her. But how do you tame a woman that’s in heat? How do you look past all her beauty and sex appeal and feminine wiles to tell her you need her for more than what she has between her legs? He stood up, unzipped her dress and realized he couldn’t because she was everything he ever wanted.

“I’ve been busy baby, I’m sorry for not being around. I missed you, why do you think I’m here. I love you.”

He had no idea whether or not she meant it but what he did know is that he needed to believe it. He wanted to believe it.

Unzipping her dress, pulling it down, her lace panties fitting her body like a glove he kissed her lower back and held her. She turned around and fell to her knees between her legs. “I love you,” she said. “I need you,” she said. “Don’t give up on me baby,” she said as she unzipped his pants and looked up at him.

He needed to hear the words, he needed to feel her warmth on him. He needed to not think about what life was like without her.

Men Cry In the Dark…

228263_581014860585_118401058_31484293_5420516_nWhen you’re a man you have to wait until the doors are locked and the lights are off and your emotions and feelings don’t affect those around you.

For as long as I could remember my grandfather has been one of the strongest men I’ve known. He’s been the rock of not just my family but for so many people and to see him in such a vulnerable state breaks my heart.

I watched my grandmother cry tonight for maybe the second time in my life. She sat with her head in my lap and cried really hard because we found out some bad news about my grandfather. It took everything in me not to cry with her, not to break down with her. But I couldn’t, I wouldn’t because I have to be strong for my family.

 

It breaks my heart because I know how prideful he is, I know how much he loves being outside and working on cars and lawnmowers and generators. And now it will be a struggle for him to do those things and I’m afraid. I can’t admit this to my family, there’s no friends or woman to admit it to…

But I’m afraid that he’s going to give up, that this is going to break him and I know I can handle it. I know I’ll be alright if God calls him home but what I also know is that my family isn’t ready. My grandmother loves that man on a level that I don’t think a woman will ever love me. My mother and aunts have been protected by him their entire lives.

My ex girlfriend told me awhile back that I didn’t do bad well, she told me that people didn’t like telling me bad news because I became withdrawn and distant. I thought about that these past couple of weeks when I’ve been anything but distant.

It’s not when I’m around people that I worry about myself, it’s times like this when all I have is my writing and my words and the thoughts and fears start to taunt me and sleep becomes harder and harder without a pill or bottle of something.

In six hours my grandfather has surgery and in six hours I’ll have to put back on this mask. I’ll have to be the strong one and the one that makes them laugh and smile and be encouraged that everything will be alright. But tonight, right now… I don’t have to wear that mask.

Right now all I want to do is lie on her lap and feel the warmth of someone that knows the pain I’m feeling. Right now I just want to take a hot shower and lose myself in the steam. Right now I just want to fuck away my frustrations. Those aren’t options so I’ll listen to this music and drink this drink and watch this Christmas tree.

Pray for my family and good night.

Street Life…

“Do you think God forgives us for our sins? Not the shit we confess to when guilt overcomes us but the shit that we’re so ashamed of that we’ll never tell another soul?”  

“This life we live… I can’t answer that question homie. Sometimes I feel like we soldiers out here just doing what we need to do to live dog. But I just don’t know, it’s only so much shit you can repent for before your seat in hell is already reserved.”

The sky was clear, it wasn’t like it was in the city. We were sitting in my garage, passing a blunt and sipping on some Johnny Walker. Anybody that would have driven by would have thought we were two executives or business men just unwinding after a rough day. We’d just heard that one of our boys got lit up coming out the strip club. I took it as being part of the game, my partner was taking it way harder than that, I could see it in his face.

“About a week ago, me and Harold went to ride on these dudes that owed B some money. We pull on the street, hit the lights, put the masks on and the dudes weren’t older than thirteen or fourteen. I couldn’t do shit but just sit there, Harold got out the car… Walked up and put two in both their heads before they even knew what hit them. I know the rules to the game so I got out and put one a piece in their chest. We get back to the spot, I ask B if he knew were just boys. You know what he said? “They shouldn’t have been playing a grown man’s game.””

He stood up and started pacing, I just sat back and watched the stress and pain take over. People think about thugs and think about animals and fake ass rappers. It ain’t really like that, growing up what the hell else you go do when your mama can’t pay the bills but she’s working two jobs. When your daddy ain’t never been around and ain’t shit to eat but the little to keep us going. You do whatever and you grow up getting used to that money. Next thing you know you twenty nine and lucky to be alive but living with demons and memories you can’t shake.

“Look at us man! LOOK AT US! Wearing slacks and suits, married with kids. Wives with degrees from the suburbs pretending like we not street niggas! You know I go home to Kim, kiss my kids, fuck my wife and then spend the whole night just lying there. Scared to sleep because if the nightmares don’t get me some nigga from outchea might run in my spot looking for me and get my family! Them lil niggas was babies man and we just hit em before they even fucking lived. How you live with some shit like that? I tried to remember last night how many bodies I got on me and I couldn’t. These dudes in the street respect my name and my murder game but I don’t even want to live no more. If it wouldn’t for my kids, I’d eat this fucking nine Jake.”

B tried to tell me he was weak, that the game wasn’t in him no more but I told him if he touched my boy then that meant beef with me. But hearing him talk, hearing the sadness and pain in his voice, the regret for the shit he’d done, the shit we’d done. I knew we couldn’t trust him. When a man starts to talk about killing himself he’s lost his will. That’s how niggas end up snitchin, end up feeling like they need to right their wrongs. I hit the button and the garage door started to let down. I wouldn’t let a stranger do what I needed to do.

“We started young man. We done went to jail together, fucked our first bitches together, robbed our first spot together. You my brother man, you always been my brother. We went from standing in lines for Jordan’s to sitting front row at Rockets games. We could have left this bullshit street shit to the young guns years ago but you know why you still do it? Because it’s who we are, it don’t matter what we tell ourselves it feels good to have that gun in your hand and a niggas life in your hands. I’m not scared to die man, my family good if I go out tomorrow. I can’t live my life like B, sitting in an office pretending that I’m not what I am. I’m a goon! A fucking soldier! And I’m a live and die like one! Fuck a conscience. I love you bro.”

He just smiled and turned his back to me, looking at a picture of us from the Miami a couple years back.

I took the knife out my pocket and clicked it open, before he could react I grabbed his head, snapped his neck back and swiped the blade across his throat. He couldn’t talk, he just looked at me as the life drained from him, I held him in my arms and cried for my friend. Maybe he could find the peace in death that he couldn’t find in life.

Better that he go out a real nigga than a snitch.  

Another Man’s Child…

I’ll be 30 in a couple of months and the older I get the more women I meet with children. I work with a lot of guys that are older than me and that have had a lot more experience in the world than me and they all have one mutual piece of advice.

“Do not talk to women with children.”

But this is the thing, why not? When you really think about it the only thing that separates most of us none virgins from having children is a sperm here or there. I’ve had enough unprotected sex in my life to have 40 kids but I’ve been blessed because I’ve pulled out or she’s had protection. So who am I to judge or cut out an entire class of women because I sperm slipped through?

I know a lot of great women that thought they were dealing with some real men and once those pregnancy test came back positive, they realized those guys weren’t real at all. Does that take away from the woman she is? She’s still smart and cool and sexy and confident, now she just as a little more baggage. And as a man I can choose to look past that and see where it goes or I can turn my back and talk to the woman who’s man had weak sperm. I’m not a quitter, if she’s a good woman, a child isn’t going to change that, it’s only going to enhance it.

I get what my boys and co-workers are saying. They’ve dealt with the drama and issues and complications that come with being with a woman with a child but all woman aren’t created equal.

The same way I can get into a situation with a woman that has no children and a crazy ex is the same way I can get into a situation with a woman that has a child and a crazy child’s father. If a woman is addictive, she’s going to be addictive with or without a child coming with that package.  Am I currently dating a woman with children, no. But if I was to meet one that has a child and she was everything I wanted. That risk is well worth the reward.

I’m Demez and I’m drunk and rambling on a Friday night. I need a baby mama.

 

Love/Hate Situations…

“Make me a believer.”

“Why are you doing this?! You either believe me or you don’t!”

For two months I didn’t get so much as a phone call, a text message, a damn letter! And now she was standing in front of me telling me that it was mines. Telling me her heart was in my hands. I knew the truth, we both knew the truth but the truth was always relative when it came to her.

“How do I make you a believer!!!? I’m here aren’t I!? I’m right fucking here!!!” She started to take off her clothes, there was nothing sexy about it. Nothing passionate about her motions. She was doing what I needed her to do. What I wanted her to do.

“Don’t do that?! DON’T DO THAT!!!! Put the fucking clothes back on!” I turned my back and took the glass of cognac to the head. I didn’t want her but I wanted her and she knew that. I couldn’t look at her, if I looked into her eyes I would be done.

“DON’T YELL AT ME! DON’T FUCKING YELL AT ME! YOU WANT ME HERE AND YOU KNOW YOU DO! STOP LYING TO YOURSELF…. Stop lying to yourself… I could feel her nipples on my back through my shirt, her breath on my neck. Her hands on my stomach.

“Don’t yell at me… Don’t act like you don’t miss me, like you didn’t miss me. Please.”

My hands were on the bar, squeezing the bottles in front of me. My knuckled bruised and swollen from the fight I lost against the drywall. She was no good for me, this relationship was no good for me but she was everything to me.

How was that possible? How was it possible that she was my everything and my nothing at the same damn time!? I turned around and my body was betraying me, my eyes, my hands, my dick. Everything in me wanted her, needed her. How do you fuck a woman into staying home? How do you suck her into not wanting more? How do you lick her into wearing your ring and loving you at all cost?

“I can’t keep doing this Crissy! I’ll kill you, I’ll kill him! Do you understand that?! DO YOU!?”

Whether or not I meant to the words I didn’t know. It was impossible to know, I wasn’t a fool I knew where she was. And why she couldn’t decide between either of us was something that drove me mad. My hands were wrapped around her neck, she was naked and it would take so little to choke the life out of her. The tears were falling but I had no way to know if they were real or if she was just in my head like she always was.

“If you don’t believe me…. If you don’t love me… Do it! DO IT! DO IT YOU FUCKING COWARD! CHOKE ME NOW IF YOU DON’T BELIEVE ME!?”

My grip tightened and I could see her losing breath but she wasn’t fighting me, she wasn’t struggling. I hated her.

“I hate you so fucking much! I hate you bitch!” Her naked body went limp in my arms and I let go, my hand prints around her neck, she fell to the ground struggling for air and I fell to the ground with her.

“I hate you but I love you… but I love you.”

Her coughing was uncontrollable but that didn’t stop me from kissing her, from her kissing me back! She was getting her breath back and taking me inside of her mouth, trying to suck me into loving her, into forgiving her! Trying to suck the soul out of me!

“This doesn’t change anything! It can’t!”

“Nothing’s changed, I’m yours and you’re mine! You taste so good baby! You taste so good, choke me! Make me love you! Fuck me until I love you! Until I forget about him! Make me forget about him!”

Pushing her to the ground and pushing myself inside of her, her legs wrapped around my back. The glasses from the bar crashing down and hitting the hardwood floors behind us I needed her to feel me! To know how much I needed her! To know how much better than him I was!

“Make me forget! MAKE ME LOVE YOU!”

I closed my eyes and tried to block out the image of her being with anyone else. The other women I called her name, the times at the gym when I hit the punching bag with bad intentions trying to kill her memory! I needed to forget her!

“I hate you! I HATE YOU!”

“You love me… You love me… You looooooooove me! Oh my God! OOOHHHHH MYYYY GOOOD!”

She was screaming for God and creaming for me but in my heart I knew she was thinking about him.