...at Point-blank Range

Being one who is in constant thought, I find myself solving the problems that I feel are relevant to me, and those who confront the same issues as me. As serious as the previous statement sounds, some things aren't quite as momentous as others but still merit attention. These things we call entertainment. If you find yourselves enjoying the topics that are discussed on this blog, please participate even if only by reading. If you find yourself offended, get over it.

Wednesday, August 30, 2006

Dare to Dream

At any given time, I have so many thoughts bouncing around in my head that I need to take time each day to just space the fuck out. I feel like I've been on 'go' longer than I care to remember. That's how it is though. If you're striving to get somewhere important, do something meaningful, or be someone of any relevance, you're rarely going to have time to sit on your ass without that guilty feeling that you get when you're not doing what you should be doing. Then again, we all have to slack sometimes. Or else we'd never enjoy life. Anyway, all of that was my drawn out way of saying that I've been busy as hell....hence the lack of bloggage. The funny part about it is that I'm realizing that my next...ohhhh say three to five years are going to be AT LEAST this busy. Go go go, push push push! But enough of my rambling.

I was just thinking...what happened to dreams? Nobody dreams anymore. No, not when you're sleeping. I'm talking about dreams...like aspirations. Ask any high school kid what they want to do with their lives and I'll bet you you'll get a money related response. How many of us are actually genuinely pursuing the thing that we REALLY want(ed) to do? There are a few of us, but on a whole, most of us are just trying to survive. That is absolutely crazy to me and perfectly sane at the same time. On one hand I feel like it is nuts to deny yourself of something that you want (assuming it isn't hazardous to your health). On the other hand, in a society ruled by the dollar, it's suicide to not put ourselves in the position to maintain a steady income. We have to survive. We all have a strong need to eat and be comfortable. And in this place we call America, that comfort and eating must be funded. So we (particularly my generation) have sought to fund our lifestyles by working jobs. And that's all they are for most people...Jobs. Not careers. Not dreams. Jobs....a means of putting food on the table, a bed under your ass, and a roof over your head.

Thinking back on it, I realize what happened. I remember growing up and going through grade school. I and my peers continuously got messages (whether subliminal or outright) from people whose opinions we valued at the time. These mentors were attempting to guide our so-called aspirations onto what they called 'realistic paths'. "Learn something or study something that you can get paid doing. Choose a major that will help you get a job. No, don't be an artist, you'll starve." After all, money is what it's all about, right? Fuck whether you like what you're doing. Life sucks. You might as well be paid well for your troubles. Your troubles.... Damn, is that what should get me out of bed every morning...my troubles and getting paid for my troubles? This mentoring has (in my opinion) resulted in a bunch of 20-somethings and 30-somethings stuck in cubicles dedicating about 1/3rd (8 hours of every 24 hour day) of our lives to a job that we detest. Most people are doing something technical because 'that is where the money is/was'. I can't count the number people I know in law school or med school or engineering or computer technology or marketing because they can get good money in such fields. Half of them end up drowning in a sea of their on contempt....beating themselves up because they either can't cut it, or they can cut it and hate the realization that they might actually have to go through with it. That's not a knock on anyone in those fields. I'm in one of those fields. But I'm in one of those fields because I wanted to be, not because somebody else thought I could make money doing it. And that's really my whole point. You've GOT to want it. Trust me, when it's 5 AM and you're on your 60-somethingth straight awake hour, and you realize that you only have 4 hours left to do 24 hours worth of work, you better fuckin' want to be in that major. Because when you're stripped of your sanity (which you are after being awake that long), the only thing that's going to push you forward is your desire...your dreams.

Anyhow, people reflect on their lives and get depressed because they aren't where they want to be. To me, that's a direct result of not following your dreams. You just won't be satisfied. Even if you're making a lot of money, you won't be happy if you're not doing what you want to do. Although having enough money would free-up some time for you to pursue your dreams. But that isn't the typical situation, is it?

On a more positive note, I think the whole 'misguided guidance' thing is leading us into somewhat of a renaissance. Think about how talented we are these days (even if some of us are refusing to use our talents). How many of us on these blogs are writers AND musicians AND artists AND designers AND chefs in addition to our 9 to 5 skills/talents? Personally, I have my hands in damn near everything that I can think of that I am even remotely interested in. Part of my motivation is strictly survival. I have to be multifaceted because, lets face it, it's a real gamble to bet on one career path. But I'm also motivated by my desire to be involved in something(s) that I actually enjoy. And once I was realized that I was willing to be involved in one thing that I enjoyed, I figured I might as well get into damn near everything that I enjoy. And if I make some money doing those things, great, because you've almost got to have something on the side these days. But if I don't make any money doing my 'thang on the side', at least I'm getting some enjoyment out of my life. But hey, that's just me.

Anyway, we all have done what any other animal does to survive. We've adapted. I'm still dreaming. I've got my dreams in sight, and I'm on their heels. How close are you to yours? What happened to your dreams?

Sunday, August 13, 2006

You Gotta Love Me, or Leave Me Alone

I'm sitting here wondering if there is anything more evil and twisted in a relationship than being strung along by someone who isn't really feeling you. Well actually there are worse things, but for the purpose of this blog, let's pretend like that's the worst thing somebody can do to you in a relationship. Isn't that some straight up horse pucky? You meet someone, you start feeling them, and you just KNOW they are feeling you too. Y'all decide to make it official, and all of a sudden you realize everything is going one way. YOU are doing all the giving. YOU are making all the sacrifices. YOU are making sure that THEY are happy, and it's not being returned. YOU are the one left wondering what the hell happened when the rug gets pulled from under you (that's damn sure what it feels like).

If you're lucky, things don't get that far before you realize what's happening. You smarten up and let that person go. But the cold hard truth is that you can't recognize that you're being strung along unless you've been strung along by someone before. We've all been through it at least once. It's kind of a 'hot stove' thing. Somebody can tell you the stove is hot (and you might believe them), but until you touch it yourself, you can't really understand what 'hot' means. It's the veritable view of the vast vista that vouchsafes the verification we so desperately venture for to give us vindication. Oops, sorry about all the 'V' words...I watched 'V for Vendetta' earlier today, and it has yet to wear off. To translate: It's the truthful perspective of the big picture that gives us the validation that we often seek. Human nature wants us to seek the truth. So when we feel like there is an opportunity to get a more 'real' truth, we go for it. Oddly, truth (as in reality) and 'pain' are often linked. I think that's how a lot of us define reality...it's how we learn our most important lessons...if it hurts, it's real. Think you're dreaming? Pinch yourself, right? It's odd but true. Oh, now look at me...I've gone on another tangent.

Back to the subject, being strung along sucks. It really boils down to deception. You're making decisions based on what you believe to be the truth. But in actuality, somebody has so cruelly hidden the truth from you. Maybe they are only interested in you because they are bored, maybe they want your money, maybe they want sex, and maybe you're just a 'rebound'. All those sayings that you hear: "Nothing gets you over an old lover like getting under a new one" and "If you can't be with the one you love, love the one you're with." They are all quick ways of explaining how we deal with the pain of reality. That's how it goes down sometimes. Hell, it's possible that the person may really love you...or at least they did at some point...or they thought they did. A person can have good intentions and still not make the right call. Have you ever tried to make yourself love/keep loving someone? I know I have. You realize that you're not really feeling them anymore, but you don't wanna hurt them and/or you're not quite sure how to tell them how you really feel. On occasion, deception is not intentional. But that doesn't excuse it.

Whether it's intentional or not, it hurts. And we all deal with the pain in different ways. I'm willing to bet that most so called playas that you know today didn't start out that way. Man or woman, it doesn't matter, somewhere along the line they were deceived and it affected them. They don't ever want to be hurt like that again, so they refuse to let anyone get too close. BUT they still need to feel loved (because we all need to feel loved). That grey area between 'needing to be loved' and 'not wanting to be hurt' sometimes takes a form that resembles what you might see from a playa...various semi-intimate relationships with people that they have no intentions of letting get too close. Because the playa is too afraid of the pain that they might experience if they let themselves be vulnerable. I've been there too.

No matter what side of the 'string-along' you're on, somebody gets hurt. So, today I'm going to forgive the girl(s) who I felt strung me along, in hopes that somewhere, the girl(s) that I strung along are forgiving me. So, my apologies to [Insert females' names]. I'm sorry that I couldn't love you the way you needed me to. And I'm sorry that I didn't let you go when I had the chance....even while knowing how much it would hurt you. Maybe I was selfish, or maybe I was scared. Maybe it was intentional. Maybe it wasn't. Maybe I just didn't care. But regardless of my intentions, you didn't deserve to be hurt by me. I hope that what I did to you didn't leave you too scarred or scared to be loved by another man. But your anger and displeasure should be directed towards me, not the men that are to follow. It's a cruel world sometimes, 'the game' gets ugly. But don't let it keep you from being happy. I promise to do the same.

Whew!! That felt good. And to the bitch that strung me along, I might forgive you one of these days. Yeah, I know, it's hypocritical of me to ask for forgiveness yet refuse myself to forgive (even if only temporarily). But I'm a work in progress...whaddaya gonna do. But for my present and future potential better halves, you gotta love me or leave me alone. It's only fair. And sorry about the 'bitch'. Wooosaaaa.

Anyway readers, the 'string-along'...have you been on one side or the other? Care to share how you feel about it?

Tuesday, July 18, 2006

My Love is Blind

That night, Boo and I fell asleep entangled in one another on her couch. It was the last time we had the opportunity to share each other. It was the last time we had the pleasure of enjoying each other’s flesh. We were kidding ourselves by holding on. And at an air-hockey date not a week after that night, we both mutually decided that that lustful night would be the perfect ending to the story that we were trying to write in each other’s lives. After our last game (I kicked her ass...I have no mercy when it comes to competition) we wished each other the best in life and said goodbye forever.

I told Jinx the news. We were both anxious to see how well we would work together, but the timing just wasn’t right yet. I had just ended a 2 year relationship, and Jinx respected my need to recover from that situation. Then again, maybe I just didn’t want to commit to anyone yet. Nonetheless, Jinx and I were finally able to hang out. We started kicking it....dinner, movies, dancing, chillin’....the typical stuff. Much fun was had. I had never clicked with somebody like that before. We genuinely got a chance to know each other. For some reason, we put the sex thing off for a while. I won’t go as far as saying that it helped us get to know each other better. But diving into sex wasn’t on either of our agendas. There was potential for something great between us....something better than just being ‘buck fuddies’. Don’t get me wrong, sex was always an underlying thought. It would sneak its way into most of our conversations, but rarely was it the main topic of discussion since Boo and I broke up. We just wanted to take things slow.

One afternoon, Jinx and I were on the phone and she was complaining of back stiffness and soreness from helping her younger sister move into her dorm (fellas, y’all know that is the Q). Naturally, I invited Jinx over for one of Pimp Hand’s Patanted Massages. Now, I have to confess to y’all. My massages tend to get me in trouble. Of all the massages that I’ve given to women that I wasn’t related to, I can only remember giving one that didn’t turn into something....risqué. But I wasn’t gonna let THAT stop me. I invited Jinx over to my place for dinner (because ol’ Pimp Hand gets down on the stove), a movie, and of course, a massage. I immediately got off of the phone, and took stock of my refrigerator and pantry. I stay stocked for moments like this. Hmmm, boneless skinless chicken breasts....thin sliced smoked ham....mozzarella.....basil leaves.....italian sausage.....ah yes, stuffed chicken bundles. I also had some fixings for a nice salad, steamed broccoli, and rice pilaf. I washed and seasoned the chicken, cut a 4 inch deep pocket into the meaty part of the breast (to later be stuffed). I cooked the sausage and drained it. I finely shredded the cheese and basil and mixed them with the dry cooked sausage meet. I stuffed the breasts, wrapped them in the smoked ham, and used wet tooth-picks to hold the bundles together. I washed my hands then proceeded to wash and cut the stems off of the broccoli, and cut up the lettuce. I squeezed a little lemon juice in the bowls with the veggies before I covered everything and sat everything back in the refrigerator (aside: lemon juice keeps veggies from turning brown...works the same way with fruit...apple slices and such). I still had a few hours before she would arrive, so I did the “man check”. Fellas, y’all know about the “man check”...you stroll through the apartment, take stock of how many gold wrappers are left from your last purchase of condoms, make sure the bathroom is clean, change the sheets on your bed to the ‘she’s seeing my apartment for the first time’ set of linens, make sure there are some candles available, take stock of your massage oils and Altoids (BlogFather, you know what I’m talking about with the Altoids). That, ladies, is the “man check”.

Since my apartment stayed fairly clean, there wasn’t much work to be done. I kicked back for an hour or so, then I jumped in the shower about an hour before she was supposed to arrive. (Side-note: Y’all know how you have a date and you try to avoid taking your shower too early? You know, ‘cause you don’t want your balls to end up sweaty too early, and you DEFINITELY don’t wanna end up having to take a shit AFTER you’ve already taken your shower. Disaster, homie). Ok, my bad, back to the story. I got out of the shower and put on one of my flyest pairs of boxers, a light splash of Nautica Competition, and some Palmers (cocoa butter for all you slow folks). There was no need to get too fly since we’d just be chillin’ at my spot, so I put on some comfortable (but crisp) jeans, a nice T-shirt, and brushed the waves. I went to the kitchen and started our meal. Not long after that, my doorbell rang. I love it when ‘perfect timing’ happens. I opened the door to this gorgeous golden-brown glowing young woman. Her hair had that kinky-curly still-wet look that the ladies wear sometimes. She had on this lime green, fitting sleeveless shirt that had 1 of the 3 buttons fastened, a white flowery knee-length summer skirt that damn near blew in the breeze, and some lime green sandals/flip-flops. She was absolutely stunning. “Heyyy! Look at you!” I flirted as I invited her in with my hand on her waist and a kiss on the cheek. “Hey, Pimp Hand.” she replied. “You look delicious.” I said (always compliment ;-) ). She giggled, “Thank you. And you look handsome yourself. Something smells yummy.”

She came in and strolled into the kitchen behind me. “There is something sexy about a man knowing what he’s doing in the kitchen.” she said. “Well I guess I’mma sexy motha-fuckaaaaa {said like Prince}.” I boasted. After I finished preparing the food, we sat down, blessed the table, and enjoyed a wonderful meal together. I hate to brag, but the food tasted almost as good a she looked. I thought she was going to have a food-gasm. We ate, talked, and listed to Pimp Hand’s infamous 5 disk set that was playing in the background. After we ate, I served dessert...a homemade mint chocolate chip cheesecake w/ a mint glaze. It was pimpin’, for real. We ate the dessert, put the dishes in the sink, and nestled up on the couch. I loved being close to her...touching her...feeling her (Not feeling ON her...get your minds out of the gutter). I can’t describe the feeling. It’s one of those things that you experience and appreciate, but you don’t really expect it to keep happening. But it did keep happening. Every time Jinx and I were within speaking distance, that shock wave would run through my body. And every time we’d touch, I just felt.....alive. We were perfectly entertained just sitting there, listening to music, and talking to each other. We had a brief silence between us, but it was in no way uncomfortable. “Oh shit, this is my song!” she squealed excitedly as -Ready for the World’s- “Gently” came on. “You’ve got to dance with me.” She demanded. I, of course, obliged her request. We rose from the couch, and tightly embraced in a slow groove. We stepped and turned and rubbed throughout the song. Somehow, I made my way behind her. She leaned her head back, and looked up at me with those deep brown eyes, as if she wanted to be kissed. I turned her around, kissed her forehead (fuck Harper Stewart’s character in The Best Man. I was doing that shit waaay before the movie came out), then I gently kissed her soft lips. We looked at one another at point-blank range, then engaged in the most passionate of kisses.

I could feel her heart racing through our connected bodies...or was that my heart? My hands tend to drift during moments like this. Fortunately, they tend to drift to all of the right places ;-). She had her arms around my neck, and her hands were caressing the back of my head. My hands were on her lower back and her soft ass. She started putting her hands under my T-shirt in the front, and I was rubbing my index finger in between the waistband of her skirt and her skin on each of her sides, and I rotated them both until they met at her front, under her belly botton. I guess she felt things were about to get out of hand (or she was just playing hard to get), because she stepped back. “Rmmrmmrm.” she cleared her throat. I thought I had crossed the line. “Stupid stupid, Pimp Hand” I fussed in my mind, “You just blew it.” “So, how about that massage you promised me?” she interrupted my thought. “Hell yeah, I’m back in the game!” I thought in relief. “What kind of massage were you talking about giving me?” she asked. “Full body.” I responded in my smoothest ‘Denzel’ voice, “Is there any other?” “I guess there is no other.” she smiled. I lead her by the hand to the bedroom, sat her on the bed, and lit the candles that I had slyly set up prior to her arrival. I selected the mango massage oil (calm down Chicki) from my ‘goodie-drawer’, went to the kitchen, filled a cup with scolding hot water. I placed the massage oil bottle in the water to warm it up. I sat the cup and bottle on the night stand and grabbed two big-ass bath towels from my linen closet. “What do you want me to do?” she asked. “Get naked.” I responded in the Denzel voice, with a mischievous smile on my face.

to be continued...

Friday, July 14, 2006

...Burned By the Fire.

Now where was I? Right, Best Buy.

So, we stood there entangled, lost in a stare. It was kinda surreal because I half-way didn’t believe that I had literally bumped into her in such a manner. Nonetheless, I wasn’t about to let time slip away before I could get my words out again. It took less than a blink for me to think up something semi-smooth to say to her. “I knew I’d find something I wanted here today.” I cleverly joked. “Boy, are you stalking me or something?! I know you just had to see me again, but damn.” she responded. I could do nothing but grin my cocky-ass grin. I absolutely loved it! She was fly AND witty, responding to me just as quick and clever as I had previously done with her. “You aight?” I asked. “I’m fine, thank you. You should really watch where you’re going.” she said. I started to say, “My bad. I was walking and I had ...” – “Mmmm hmmm, whatever.” she cut me off as I explained. “Whatever. I guess I should get my hands off of you then, huh?” I said as I released her. A slight look of disappointment cloaked her eyes. “Well, I’m glad you kept me from falling. It’s good, you know....to be caught when you’re falling.” she told me. “Well, if we’re going to keep running into each other like this, I really should know your name, Ms. I.H.O.P.” I joked again. “Shut up! My name is not I.H.O.P. It’s Jinx.” she snapped back at me. “Nice to meet you, Jinx.” I extended my hand to shake hers, “I’m Pimp Hand. Now you don’t have to sneak up on me. You can just call me by my name to get my attention instead of throwing yourself into me.” She extended her soft, warm hand to meet mine as she responded, “Oh, you’re funny.”

We began an actual conversation as we moved out of the center of the isle, towards the registers. It was the typical type of talk that you have with someone when you first meet them. The “what” and the “where” and the “how” stuff. Jinx was a junior Poli-Sci major at one of the local colleges. She was actually from the same city that we were in. It’s a wonder I hadn’t seen her before. It’s a small world when it comes to the college scene in this city. Somebody always knows somebody who knows somebody. Against my better judgment (because, as I said, I had a girlfriend at the time) I asked Jinx for her phone number. I don’t know why. Maybe I did it because me and my girl were on the “outs” at the time. Maybe I just wanted to see if I still had it. Or maybe I just couldn’t find logic in letting the opportunity to make a new friend slip by. But I asked for it, and she gave it to me. We left the store together, said our good byes, she threatened to make sure that my trip would actually lead to a fall if she hadn’t heard from me by the next Tuesday if she was to see me in Best Buy again. I promised to call, and we went our separate ways.

Now, I fought the urge to call her for 3 or 4 days before I broke down and called (stupid unspoken rule about calling too early when you get a number so as to not give the wrong impression). We, of course, hit it off on the phone. We talked and talked and talked for hours. I was talking to Jinx more than I was talking to my girl. I know y’all are shaking your heads at me. Fuck y’all. That was her (my girl’s) fault. But this story isn’t about her so I won’t get into that. A month had passed. Jinx and I had “accidentally” met at Best Buy 2 more Tuesdays over that period of time. And my girl and I continued to drift apart. Actually, now that I think about it, we had kinda broken up and made up and gotten mad at each other again. Jinx and my conversations had gone where any conversation between a man and a woman eventually goes. Sex. She told me some of the things that she liked to have done to her. I returned the favor. We talked in detail...step by step story swapping. What’s the wildest thing you’ve ever...Who was the last person you....How long have you.... I would get off of the phone with her, and my dick would be hard enough to cut diamonds. Surely, she was just as aroused.

This one time in particular, Jinx and I talked about sex to a point where I was so turned on, I had to find my girl or else there was going to be a BAD situation. It was about 1 AM, I called Boo up and told her that I needed to see her right then. We were pretty bored with one another at that point in the relationship, and late night booty calls were few and far between. She hesitantly told me to come over, and I was on my way. I didn’t really want her, honestly. But my blood was boiling, and I didn’t want to cheat on her. The hand just wasn’t gonna get it done that night...I needed the late night quickie. No love making. No gentle cuddling. No oral sex or foreplay. I needed to fuck.

I brushed my teeth, threw some b-ball shorts on over my boxers, and blitzed out of the door. I got there and she answered the door in this bogus-ass flannel button-down shirt with a T-shirt underneath it and some panties. I didn’t give a fuck WHAT she had on. She barely got the word “Hey” out of her mouth before I closed the door behind me and pushed her up against the wall, diving into a passionate kiss. She seemed to look a bit taken aback by my approach. Maybe she was. I didn’t know. I didn’t care. I needed it right then and right there. She obviously was game because she grabbed onto the back of my head with one hand, and grabbed the big hard bulge in the front of my white mesh shorts with the other hand. I ripped the front of that ugly flannel shirt open. She released her hands from me long enough to get her arms out of the sleeves. I pulled her T-shirt over her head. Then she removed mine. I grabbed for the 2 condoms I had in my pocket just in time enough to get them out before she ripped my shorts and boxers down to the floor. She jumped up onto me with her legs wrapped around my waist. I carried her over to her dining room table as we continued kissing and caressing. I sat her down on the table, her legs still straddling me, ripped the condom wrapper open with my teeth and one hand while I grabbed at the crotch of her panties with the other hand. I didn’t pull any hairs in the process because I got it like that ;-) I pulled her underwear off. I put the condom on and painted her pussy lips with the head of my dick, circling atop the tip of her clit, then down the left side, back up the right side to the clit again, then right down the center to the front door. She was hot and wet and damn near foaming at the mouth. I eased the head in, then sunk the first half of my dick into her. She moaned in pleasurous pain, then bit down on my right shoulder like a vampire. I pulled my dick out slightly and pushed back in a few times before stuffing as much of my dick as I could fit into her. She shrieked and dug her fingernails into my back. I gripped her ass cheeks firmly where her ass met the table. I thrusted in and out, pulling everything out except the head, then I pushed it in again, and out again, and in again. I could feel her squeezing my dick as I pulled away, and I could feel her throwing her pelvis into me when I pushed forward. She used her lower legs on the back of my thighs as leverage. We went at it for a good ten minutes before we were both cuming. I pulled out and staggered a little. She leaned back and rested her palms on the back of the table, panting to catch her breath. I pulled the condom off and headed for the bathroom to clean up so I could make the switch. On the way there, I noticed that I was ass-naked with my Nike’s still on my feet (a funny picture...you shoulda been there), but that’s neither here nor there.

I came back to the front of her apartment, ready to go again. She was laid out with her back on the table. Her breasts were rising and falling in unison with her deep breathing. She was floating away into la-la land. I stepped out of my shoes in the hallway, walked over to her, and rubbed her breasts, bringing my fingers together at the nipple. She put her hands on my shoulders and pulled herself up. I helped her off of the table hugged her naked body from behind. She laid her head back onto my chest as we walked step for step towards the couch. I walked her right up to the back of the couch so that her knees and thighs were touching the backing. She leaned over with her stomach on the head cushions and her hands placed firmly on the seat cushions. I kissed down her spine as I entered her from behind. She moaned again, and she was even wetter than before. I got a good grip on her womanly hips and began thrusting. I slammed into her from behind. Her ass clapped against my pelvis. She grabbed the seat cushions and screamed in ecstasy with every thrust. She started with her feet on the ground, then she was up on her toe tips. She came again at least once. By the time I was about to cum again, I was holding her by her thighs and her feet were in the air behind me wheel-barrow style.

I got a few more strokes in before it was all over. No more screaming, no more ass-clapping, no more moans or grunts from either of us. It was over, and not a single word had been spoken other than the “hey” that she tried to spit out when I first arrived. We had fucked like we didn’t even know each other. And it was quite possibly the most satisfactory late night snack either of us ever had. She pulled the rest of her body over the back of the couch and laid her beautiful naked body across the cushions. She was spent and so was I. I walked around to the front of the couch, lifted her legs up, and sat down with her legs across my thighs. She was so picturesque laying there with the dim moonlight shining through the window onto her body. For a minute, I thought maybe we had a chance to be happy again. But I knew that was bullshit. Because the incredible sex that we had just shared with one another was fake. Why? Because that whole time, I was picturing Jinx instead of seeing the woman that I was actually there with. I felt guilty as shit, almost as if I had cheated on her. She had officially lost my attention, and Jinx had gained it. But I’ll tell y’all about that later.

to be continued

Thursday, July 13, 2006

Like a Moth to a Flame....

Sorry I haven’t dropped y’all a blog in a while. I’ve got an ass-load of work to do, and I haven’t really had enough time to sit down and think. I’ve barely had time to comment on some of my favorite blogger’s blogs. Anyway, since I’m stressed the hell out about my work, I’ve decided to completely fuckin’ blow it off for the rest of today. Gonna sit down, put my feet up, and let my wheels spin while my fingers are on the keyboard.

I’ve been wanting to write about something for the past week. Sadly, nothing came to mind that really struck me as interesting enough to bother you guys with. I wanted to write about something that was people related....something personal, something....internal. After a couple of sessions that left me staring at a blank-ass Microsoft Word page, I came up with nothing. So I wrote nothing. I try not to force these kinds of things. You see, that’s how my mind works. It’s strange really....kinda like the opposing sides of a coin. In my field/business, you force things. You have an objective, you take inventory of your resources, and you make it happen. If it won’t happen, you “force it” to happen. But my creative mind doesn’t work that way. Things have to flow. They have to fall into place on their own. Timing, balance, harmony, passion...these things are important with creativity.

Ok, enough about that. Sorry.

Anyway, what was I about to talk about? Oh yeah, the connection. I guess me just saying “the connection” is kinda vague, huh? Well, what I’m talking about is that bond that you have with a certain person(s)....that spark, that electricity that you share with someone. Not the friendly ‘we’re always thinking the same thing and finishing each other’s sentences’ type of stuff. I mean that natural chemistry that happens between two people. It’s flammable. Y’all set one another on fire. When you’re around each other, anything within a 20 foot radius might catch burn or melt away. Shit, it’s damn near dangerous at times.

Every now and then, you run into someone that just totally ignites you. If you’re lucky, you’ve run into 2 or 3 of these people by now. And if you’re really lucky, you and one of these people are actually good for one another. Myself, well, I’ve been lucky a time or two. But this one time in particular, I was really lucky....or was I unlucky?

Allow me to tell you a story

Once upon a time, in what seems like a lifetime ago, there was this girl who I’ll refer to as “Jinx”. Man, even saying her name now after all this time still gives me an interesting feeling. Jinx and I had this....thing...between us. I’ll never forget how we met. I had just finished cosmic bowling with some friends, and we were on our way into the nearest I.H.O.P. I.H.O.P. was packed because it was the Friday night before exam week, and every college student in the city (there are about 6 colleges in the city) was out and about. As me and 5 other friends were approaching the crowded restaurant, a group of 4...maybe 5 girls (don’t really know how many there were because I really only saw one of them) had decided that they weren’t going to wait for a table. As they were leaving, my crew walked past their crew, and I....felt something. It was strange, I can’t really explain it. It was like....you know how you wave a really strong magnet over something metal and you can feel them trying to connect, almost as if they are reaching out for one another? Well, it was kinda like that except I also felt heat. It was as if I was walking too close to a fire. It almost stopped me dead in my tracks. I turned around as I slowed my walk, and my boys edged closer to the door. I looked back and she stood there, maybe 10 feet away from me. She, also being left behind by her crew of accomplices, and also stopping dead in her tracks, looking back at me with an astonished yet ruffled look on her face. A look as if to say, “My God, what was that feeling that just caused a cosmic jolt to my balance?” We stood there for only a second or two, but it felt like minutes...staring at one another with a million thing running through our minds, yet none of those thing ever made it to our mouths. She was a cute lil’ thang....about 5’-3”, with a golden-brown-pie-crust complexion. She had neck length dark brown hair (that I thought was black at the time....it was dark out), a nice curvaceous frame and the most lickable looking lips I had ever seen at the time. Maybe it was a word, maybe it was a sentence that was finally forming in my brain and making it’s way to my lips when -- “C’mon girl, you gon’ unlock the door or what?” One of her impatient, hungry, cock-blockin’-ass girls was in a rush to get wherever they were going. “Is you gon’ holla at him or what, girl? He cute.” Surely embarrassed by now, Jinx washed her shocked look away with the most beautiful smile and turned back around. I smiled back just before she began to look away, then I headed back towards the door.

My hungry ass boys didn’t even know I was gone (y’all know “we” don’t notice shit when we’re hungry). Now you might be thinking, “Damn, Pimp Hand didn’t even try to holla at her.” Well, you’re right. I didn’t. At least, not right then. Why? Because for some reason, it wasn’t necessary. You see, somehow I knew I’d run into this mystery girl again. Like I said, I felt it. It was brief, but powerful....like getting shocked. It doesn’t take long for it to happen, but when it happens, you know it. I stood in line at the door, watching her watching me watch her pull out of the parking lot. Same smile. Same shocked look. And I swear the air got a little bit colder as she drove away.

A couple of weeks later, I was in Best Buy (because it was Tuesday) perusing the new release section when I felt that same jolt that I felt that night at I.H.O.P. It was the same magnetic pull....the same heat. I’m thinking, “WTF!?! Is something wrong with me? Am I about to pass the hell out?” I almost stagger, and half-way tripped over my big floppy feet when I was trying to regain equilibrium. I played it off and did a brief scan to make sure no one saw me, when - BAMM! - I collided with someone who was rounding the end of the next isle over. The body felt soft (breast slammed into my stomach) so I knew it was a woman. I held onto her so as to keep her from falling. “Oops, I’m sorry, Miss....” I said as I swivel my head back to facing front. “YOU again!!” she said excitedly. “What the....I.H.O.P.?” I said aloud. It was my mystery girl from the other night, looking just as awkward as she did then. We stared speechlessly into each other’s eyes again. This time with me holding her, and the brief shock, magnetic pull, and warmth had amplified into full electricity, inseparable connection, and burning fire. I knew right then that I was in trouble.

Oh yeah, did I mention that I already had a girlfriend at the time?......

to be continued

Wednesday, July 05, 2006

I Do....I Think????

I’m in my mid 20’s. Most of my friends are also in their mid 20’s. One of the things that I’ve noticed about people my age is that a lot of them eventually want to get married and have kids. I know, I know, that is not true of everyone. But most people do eventually want one or the other. Several of my friends and relatives who are now in their early 30’s shared a similar desire when they were my age. They wanted to be married by the time they hit the big 3 - 0, possibly already have a child, or at least be in the position to start thinking about having a child. But now they’ve reached that age (30), and they aren’t in the position that they had once hoped to be in.

I’m sure there are several various reasons for perfectly attractive, capable adults (whose goal was to get married) not being married. But if they did what a lot of people my age are doing now, I think I have an idea why they fell short of their goal. I think that it’s really easy to SAY that you want to be married by the time that you’re 30, but being in the position to do so is a lot harder. I know you’re thinking “no shit, Pimp Hand”, but hear me out. Think about it. Let’s say I want to get married when I’m 28 years old (I shaved off 2 years because these things NEVER go as planned). That means I should probably be in a serious relationship with that person for a couple of years. Boom! – That puts me starting a serious relationship no later than age 26. Now, if I want to be in a serious relationship at 26, I have to be what I like to call “relationship-ready” by the time I’m 25 – 25 ½. When I say I should be “Relationship-ready” (think “cable-ready”) I mean I should be done playing around, I should WANT to be faithful (not just “willing to try” to be faithful), I should have cut off all ex-girlfriends (maybe not completely, but enough for them to not cause any problems), I should have broken ties with all booty-calls, shaken off any stalkers, squared all sexual debts (don’t ask), and most importantly, I should have been tested....maybe even a couple of times. Realistically, that’s probably what needs to be done.

So, here’s the thing. A lot of the people who are my age that claim to want to get married by the time they are 30, are not on the “married by 30” path (as I suspect was the case for my friends who are 30-something and not married...again, I’m talking about the ones that wanted to be married by 30). The achievement of any goal requires planning and sacrifice. Saying that you plan on being married by 30 but not making a plan to do so is like claiming to want to own your own business but not doing anything towards that goal. It’s not likely to fall in your lap. Don’t get me wrong, there is luck and faith and maybe even fate involved in these types of things, but you have to be mentally, physically, and spiritually prepared to notice and pursue your opportunity when it is presented to you. You could run into your soul mate (if there is such a thing) at a barbecue and totally miss your opportunity with them if you are not prepared for that moment. If I’m on some playa-playa shit, hopping from female to female, not really caring about any woman in my life with the potential to be something special to me, I’m going to give off that vibe, and when I do run into “soul mate”, she’s likely to read that vibe I’m giving off and not be interested in me. And even if she is interested, I could totally blow the opportunity because my mind isn’t right at the moment. The opposite is also true, if I AM prepared for that moment, I’ll give off the vibe that I want to give off and good things will happen.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying getting married by 30 is a simple task (again, if that’s your goal). I know there is more to it than just “being ready”, because another person is involved in the situation. And there are a lot of other factors. But you can’t expect things to work out if you aren’t doing what you need to do. My point is, if you want something (in this case, to be married at 30), act like it. Do what you need to do to put yourself in that position. It’s just like anything else you might want. You have to prepare.

Wait...what the hell am I talking about? Married by 30?? Wha...what the f*. I shouldn’t even be thinking about this right now. I’m Pimp Hand Strong, dammit! I’m young, single, and successful. I don’t need to be preparing myself for marriage now....do I? Wait, don’t answer that....Uhhh....I gotta go.

Tuesday, June 27, 2006

You're Disappointed? What More Do Y'all Want?!

Can I be honest with y’all? I can? Cool, because I’ve got something on my mind.

Surprise, surprise, I’ve been reading a lot of good sex related blogs lately (3 of them, to be exact). They all brought up some interesting issues. Although these 3 blogs had totally different topics, I noticed a reoccurring theme in the commentary section of each blog. A theme that I felt was worth talking about in its very own blog.

“Seems like what-ev-er I do
is not enough FOR you
I paid the cost and gave you my all and you still want more...”
-Little Brother-


Everybody seems to think that the opposite sex has unrealistic expectations when it comes to sex. As a result of this perception of high expectations, we are all under this immense pressure to perform in the bedroom. Pressure to live up to something....to meet some...outlandish requirements...to score at least a 9 out of 10 on some imaginary checklist that exists solely in the minds of our partners.

But where does this pressure come from? I think all of it is based on some preconceived notion or idea that we got from somewhere. A lot of females would say that men watch too much porn. And as a result of watching too much porn, every man thinks his sex life is lacking. Some women are under the impression that their man thinks that if she isn’t movin’ it and groovin’ it like a BET Uncut dancer, or if she doesn’t “perform” like Superhead in the bed, he won’t be satisfied. She thinks that he sees her and thinks to himself, “Look at her. Can she make it clap? What it do? Can she squeeze it? I bet she can ride it like Jada Pinkett did in “Jason’s Lyric.” I bet she bites the pillow, like Monica Calhoun in “The Best Man.”” She thinks he’ll want a threesome. She thinks he’ll expect her to deep-throat it, to ride it hard all night, to be able to take whatever he is capable of giving her while she screams and orgasms over and over again. I won’t pretend that there aren’t men that have these expectations. The truth is, some of us do expect this fantastic mind-blowing “performance” from our woman. But how many women can live up to those expectations? Maybe some.

But we men aren’t the only ones with high expectations, are we fellas? That’s right, women watch porn to. But that’s irrelevant. Because you don’t have to watch pornography to get an obscured opinion of what you think your sex life should be like. I’ve spoken to women who seem to encounter one disappointing sexual experience after another. If you spoke with them, they would lead you to believe that their disappointment is due to some lacking on the man’s part. Either a lack of skill, a lack of size, or a lack of....some “thing” that they can’t even put into words. “How long did y’all have sex? An hour. Was he too small? No. Was he just not skilled at all? He was straight. Then what’s the problem? I don’t know, he just didn’t “do it” for me.” As abstract as that discussion is to read, I guess I can still understand. Maybe dude just didn’t get the job done. Or maybe she’s disappointed because she expects her every sexual experience to mimic a scene from a Zane novel...some mind blowing experience that would inspire her to write poetry or at least get on the phone with her girlfriends to brag about how she’s never “had it” like that before. And again, I ask you, how many men can live up to those expectations? Maybe some. Maybe Pimp Hand ;-P

But the truth is, neither men nor women have to look very far to find the source of their “Great Sexpectations”. There is no need to explore pornography or sex novels, because the things that are influencing our views of acceptable sexuality slap us in the face everyday. All one has to do is turn on the television, listen to the radio, watch the news, or listen to the true lies of their friends as they exaggerate about last night’s sexcapades. The very moment we witness something different (not even better) than what our normal experiences have been, we immediately feel like we’re missing something. That’s just human nature.

Where does that leave us? We have men looking for women who are down for whatever, who have complete sexual control over their bodies, and an insatiable appetite for sex, regardless of how skilled and equip we are. And we have women looking for men who are more than capable of completely satisfying them the very first time they have sex, even if they (the women) aren’t fully in tune with themselves. All of which is “suppose” to be done while in a completely confident mental state AND while both genders are under this bullshit pressure. And that is a genuine, no-win situation. We’ve gotta be realistic about this thing. But more importantly, we’ve got to be more patient.

Peace,

PHS

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