Waiting to Inhale, Exhale or Just Waiting

Just 2 days after Christmas and I was happily camping out at my Dad's house in Jersey for a much needed tune up. I was enjoying the peace and quiet of deer country when my alter ego began itching for a trip to my old stomping ground...just over the mountain and through the woods to Brooklyn. Ironically, I ran into Monica, one of my coolest and feistiest home girls from the Empire state, at the neighborhood liquor store outside of Princeton.

What's up Mo?! "What are you doing here?", I ask. "Girl, I just came out here to catch my boyfriend (now ex-boyfriend) cheating". "What?!", I whispered with a scream. I was trying not to startle the 90 yr. old cashier who probably retired from his real job 30 years ago. I was actually shocked by this news even though we've all been reminded by the behavior of Mr. Woods, cheating is a popular sport. What a shame. The last time I talked to Monica, marriage was the topic of choice.

"Yeah girl, I knew that nigga was cheatin but I just had to catch him red handed so I could put closure to this bullshit of a relationship we had". She was so calm and a bit nonchalant with her words. She was conversing like we were at a water cooler casually gossiping about the office whore. All of a sudden she stopped her rant and turned to me like she just thought of a cure for cancer. "Yo, you want to come to my "Fuck Him" party tomorrow night?!", she pretty much demanded, while grabbing a Grey Goose bottle without even looking at it.

I couldn't help but chuckle, even though the circumstance wasn't funny. Monica is a NY city cop from Jamaican decent...pretty girl but her dominant personality can be quite intimidating, even for the most aggressive man. The fact she didn't run up on this dude like G.I. Jane with her loaded gun was quite impressive. Of course I agreed to come to the party. I mean really? How could I miss the opportunity for a bitter "I don't need a man" session. If anything, it would be a good laugh. Plus, I was already a little bored with watching step mom bake brownies and re-arrange Christmas decorations.

It's party night and I'm the last one arriving at the house. There are about 12 women there...a lot more than I expected. And then there's Monica - sitting in the middle of the floor in the midst of all her cheerleaders, clearly wasted, talking shit and laughing out loud with exaggerated insults for the guilty party. But when no one was looking I saw her eyes close as she inhaled. But I don't remember seeing her let go.

I needed a drink. I looked for the wine but the only poisons on the table were Jack, Goose, Crown and E & J. Uhh ok, I guess this isn't an afternoon brunch.

So me and my Crown are flirting with each other while this cheater hater party turns into an urban Dr. Phil show knock off.

"Michelle, he will never marry you baby. You really need to just decide what you want to do. Your pussy hairs gonna be all gray before he even thinks about committing to your ass." Brooklyn bitches don't pull any punches, I swear. I didn't know who the girl was that was talking to Michelle, but I damn sure knew Michelle. Michelle's middle name should be doormat. Poor thing has been dating a guy for 5 years who doesn't even acknowledge her in public as anything other than "hey". He doesn't listen to her, know her or love her. I bet he says all the right things in bed to keep her on it but that's all he will give. He tells her he's not the marrying kind but really he's just not the faithful kind. Sad, sad, sad. Michelle reminded me of Robin from the movie Waiting to Exhale, so weak and insecure.

I looked around the room and realized that most of these women had tragic love stories...sad tales of lies, heartache and disappointment. I wasn't laughing. This wasn't fun.

But then there was Simone...the only bit of sunshine I felt in the room. Married for 2 years, happiness was seeping out of her pours. Her husband, Jeff is romantic, understanding, supportive and loving. And you experienced this just from her 2 anecdotes and 5 minute phone conversation we all overheard them have earlier that night. I call Simone and Jeff hope. They represent the hope for true and honest love. Sort of like my Dad and step mom, who have been married over a decade and treat each other like newly weds. All they do is constantly exhale...loving and appreciating each moment of their lives they share together, yet maintaining themselves as individuals.

So, as I looked around the room at all those women...some inhaling, exhaling and even waiting to exhale, I asked myself, "Where do I fit in this picture frame?"What kind of woman am I in my relationship? Still figuring that out, but I am certain of one thing. That party reminded me of just how many fucked up women are out here looking for love in fucked up places. So, I need to stop waiting...waiting for Heaven or Hell to come. I'm going to breathe in and out nice and easy and try not to be that bitch in the middle of the floor.

-C

Lost

Deep in the forest with no light from the Sun
I question the absence of fear
The cold wet mud molests my toes

And makes me feel so queer

I look up above and see no clouds
Just God dancing around the trees
Where is he now, has he left me
As I drop down to my knees

Should I take a chance on that broken road
And follow my writing hand
Or embrace the blind walking
And skip to the song of that distant band

My delirious laughter is not so funny

Simply a blanket for my panic
Body stuck deep in the mud

Oh so scary in this dark green Titanic

-C

Greed

What if I just want it all? What if I want to have my cake, ice cream and whipped cream on the side? Life is all about compromises, they say. But why does it have to be? As long as I am clear in my communication, honest in my needs and desires, and sensitive in my approach, can't I have it my way and take the whole pot of gold?

We all know about the 7 deadly sins: Lust, Gluttony, Greed, Sloth, Wrath, Envy and Pride. My knees are already bloody raw from praying for forgiveness on Lust and Wrath...but what about Greed? Am I going to Hell 3 times?

The truth is, I want everything. That's right, I said it. I want absolutely everything.

My boss came into my office yesterday and told me he wanted me, and ONLY me, to handle this potentially large account...an account that has my name and co-worker's name all over it. Knowing the answer already, I asked him if she was coming to the meeting. "No", he said. "I just want you". I'm already drowning in social and corporate events for the month totaling about $100,000, so I am definitely not playing with my pussy under the desk. I almost felt bad for her but then quickly stopped bullshitting myself. I want to say I didn't stand up for her because I know if it were reverse, she wouldn't fight for me, as I've watched her take from me not so long ago. No, No. That wasn't the reason. I didn't fight for her because I want that reward all to myself and will take all the shit that comes with it, especially if it means helping me get to the next level. You see, I demand more...and dammit, I deserve it. My boss didn't GIVE me that opportunity, I busted my ass for it and I'm not compromising anything.
Am I a bitch? Yes. But like Laurence Fishburne's character told Ellen Barkin's character in Bad Company regarding the mentally challenged kids - - "I think of them as much as they think of me". We are not friends, so it is what it is. I don't smile, rub your back and take from your pocket. I smile, rub your back while I take from the vault that you missed while running your mouth. Yes, life is about being loving, kind, warm and friendly. But it's also about taking yours, because no one is going to GIVE you shit.

Now professional greed is easy...very straight forward. Love, on the other hand is complicated, sticky and messy. I crave them all...even the ones I'm not fucking or don't even know yet. If my ex-therapist was reading this, she'd book me a session quick. But the bitch was way too much money when in the end I knew I was going to be a bad girl anyway.
So, I take the man who wants to love me, even if I don't love him. Give me time though, it may happen. Is that selfish? More selfish of him since he knows I love someone else, don't you think? But I guess he's greedy too. Well, good for him.
I also take the man who takes care of me, massages my heart, mind and body. He knows how to keep me wanting more and more, and so much more. I lie about wanting all of him in any way, shape or form.
I mean really, I capture them all...trap all my love. I take all the hot flirts, suave players, nervous geeks, creative musicians, mama's boys, loners, mysterious romantics...all of them. And when I say take them, I mean take their admiration, their desire, their curiosity and wrap it around me like an electric blanket. Yes. Love me. Want me. I am greedy and won't apologize for it.

In the attempt of being a good girl, I researched the opposite of greed. Come to find out the flip side of greed is charity. Hmm, charity. I think I've given more than my share. No thanks.


-C

Free Milk

I'm weary of being an emotional whore...a soft squishy sponge. I find myself taking in all the goodness that looks and feels like love, soaking it up and then watching it seep through my pores. Wet and warm it is, but in reality, not so bueno. You see, when I ring out...there's nothing. Nothing left but a little moistness, which eventually becomes a stale mildewy scent in my mind. I'm quite exhausted of loving and obsessing over the fantasy. The craving of it is getting old, when deep down in my soul, I know that shit isn't happening. If it was going to happen, it would've played out already. So many reasons for it not to, but not one reason why it could. So enough is enough.

Love doesn't mean a damn thing when not watered or fed, stroked, appreciated or reciprocated.

So why put it first? Don't get me wrong...I love love. It's soft, sweet and so optimistic...even without the dangle of marriage. Because let's be real. Love, within itself, is truly a commitment anyway. Do I really need to promise God in front of all my family and friends that I'm going to never leave - when quite frankly, I'm not really sure? Well, that's another thought for another day.

The point is, I've decided to STOP being that squishy sponge... a seduced victim of the "yummy" these men call love, care, desire, need, lust...whatever sounds good to them.

"I care about you, baby".

No, you care about yourself and consistently display that lie into the mirror to make you feel better about drinking my milk for free. Well, no more free milk. You have to pay for it. And I don't necessarily mean with money, although I will take that. You have to give me the best of you. I need your top shelf self if you even want the opportunity to experience my love, care, desire, need or lust.

It's funny to me how some men think they are better than the others because their frosting is sweet, chocolate and smooth like I like it. While the competition may be coated with an old and hard sugar crusted frosting. Well, let me just tell you...A donut is a fucking donut. And it doesn't really matter which kind you are in the big scheme of things. If the end result is the same (which is me leaving the scene unfulfilled), then it's like a group of toy soldiers standing in front of me - not one distinction among any of them.

My new focus is simple. I am done with the lie...moving forward and seeking new opportunities to experience what I deserve...which is the best of the best. No more appeasing emotional strokes with whispers of, "You like that, baby. How's this? Is that enough?" No, it's not enough anymore.

I once told someone my pussy is priceless. The question is how much am I willing to accept to allow the right man to enjoy it. I was joking (well kinda). But, that is definitely true in regards to me as a lover and friend, the value of my time and how I'm going to treasure myself.

I'm going to miss the cookies I've been eating...so comforting and tasty at that moment. And I know my milk will be missed. But it's time to shelf it now and wait it out for a little bit of pay back.

-C

My Brit Ramble

The only thing predictable about him is his nightly phone call around the 10 o'clock hour. It's 9:36 PM now and I can guarantee I have about 20 minutes to finish this thought. His smooth baritone voice relaxes my mind...actually lulls me to sleep sometimes. He doesn't speak in sentences, but in poem sonnets....seductive, tantalizing, but not too naughty...only a step over traditional charming. And when he gets excited to express a feeling or tell a tale, he picks up the pace, his British accent and London lingo working overtime, forcing giggles out of me. It's like he's spinning me around with nothing but a a silk scarf ...a crazy powerful whirlwind I can't spin out of. But it's light, soft and sassy.

I'm not even going to lie...I'm smitten. When we met on the vineyard, I thought he needed directions or something. Hey, I hardly discriminate. I'm all about the tall, vanilla tan, blonde and blue eyed stallions, but they are not the gems I usually attract. He's different and that's what drew me in. I was curious to get the answer to why me? And answer he did. I talk back and speak my mind. I'm uninhibited without showing any skin. He sees what's in the glass jar, but is patiently waiting for me to tap the lid from the inside first - to let him open easy. OK, so the gifts don't hurt but it's not even all about the money. It's the freedom it allows him to have; it's his attention to detail, the lack of laziness and intoxicating confidence. That's what gets me. He listens to every word and then acts accordingly. How refreshing to talk to a man who is clear and focused and so sure of what he wants. And right now, he wants me. No excuses, no reasons to duck and dodge, no bullshit.

I just got off the phone with him. "I want to court you, have fun with you and see what happens. No pressure or stress, no rules or regulations", he says. Just asked if he could be fortunate enough to be close to me for as long as I enjoy his company. Ahhh, poetry, I tell you.

He wants to continue with Halloween weekend in NY. There's a costume party that he's been invited to and knows I will love his friends. I can't remember the last time I was in NY for trick or treat. And I guess that should be the title of the weekend. Am I being tricked or treated? My grandma always said, nothing is ever perfectly polished...there gotta be some bumps, scuffs and dings in his whip. But you know what, I have my seat belt on, so I'm just going to enjoy the ride and see where I get off.

-c

Killing Me

Your mouth captures mine

As the dagger grinds my heart

Not softly but with swift thrusts you take my last breath

Over and over again


Intoxication of your touch numbs the truth from my mind

But not the torture of my body

Forcing the bottle down my throat

You don't want me sober



You peak at the pain I feel with each strike

Naked and hanging on with raw fingertips

You grin at my weakness

Licking the tears and the sweat from my frame


Thick rope choking my breasts and neck

I pretend it doesn't burn when you know I can't breathe

Don't you know what you do?

You are killing me

Pit Stop

The sweat on my spine starts to dry as the fan air cools the bed. My arms as my chin rest, I'm just now noticing the cartoons on T.V...this ridiculously big plasma T.V. Jeez, this thing is huge. For all I know, there could be several little white bald men with glasses and white lab coats behind the screen diligently taking notes. Subject: Bad Girl.
I actually think about getting up for a quick peak but laugh at myself at the crazy thought. So instead I enjoy my intoxicated state, sigh in contentment of the stress relief, and run my fingers through my hair like a wide tooth comb. I'm happy my ends are still dry and curls are in place..despite the moistness at the roots. I chuckle again. This time reflecting on my co-worker after the meeting just an hour ago. "See you at the office". "Yup, in just a bit. Gotta make a pit stop", I mumble.

As I flip over on my back, greedy for that cool wind on my breasts, I focus on his footsteps upstairs in the bathroom. Visions of him naked, wiping me off his abs, penis and thighs slightly excites me, but no time for that now. I look on the floor beside the bed. Damn, I wish there was time for him to fix my Love necklace. I can't believe it got caught in his gold Jesus piece. Ironic? Hmmm. Of course mine is the one to break. Dammit. I love this necklace. It's not that it's expensive, I just love wearing it. It represents something about me. As I told a close friend once, "I love love". Wearing the love necklace makes me feel happy and hopeful in the discovery of it...simply the love of it.

I hear him in the kitchen now, ice machine going off like an alarm for me to get my ass up. I walk over to the bedroom door. Damn, how my panties get so wet? I mean, ok, nevermind :) My dress isn't transparent, so I'm gonna have to put these panties in my purse. Only 5 minutes past my estimated departure time...I'm doing pretty good.
Look at him...coming down the stairs wearing nothing but 2 glasses of ice water.
Shit, he is beautiful.
As I grab his arm for support and dig my foot into my sandal heal, I'm thankful the dress I chose today is wrinkle free and shows off my legs. He loves my legs. He kisses my shoulder as I inhale the water."How does my hair look? Do I look crazy?" "Crazy beautiful", he says. Uhh huh. Smooth like butter, I tell ya. But that's ok, I'll l take that....pretty much the reason for my visit.

I tell him he doesn't have to walk me out, as I practically Flo Jo my ass up the stairs. His house is very similar to my mom's...newly created master bedroom decked out in the furnished basement, while the top two floors occupy guest bedrooms, office, family, living room, etc. etc.
I pause to do an inventory of my belongings and feel satisfied as I open the iron gate.
DOOR OPEN!

I tense up as this automated security bitch pretty much tells the whole block I'm resurfacing from the love dungeon. I quickly stride to my car which is way down the street. Damn DC parking. I'm feeling pretty paranoid as the two women across the street stare at me with their " ain't you supposed to be at work" eyes. Whatever! Why am I trippin? I am a grown ass woman and I am second highest in sales this month...as usual, so I deserve a pit stop.

In the car now and he's calling me. "I've fixed your love necklace, come back." "Naw, babe, I'm too far away. Just hold on to it and I will get it next time". Long Pause. "OK, well just remember I got your love".
Final Chuckle. "Yeah baby, how could I forget".

Why Do you Love Me?

~The Boyfriend ~

He made me wait to have sex with him because he really wanted it to work this time. His previous women gave it up too quick, I guess. Made it hard for him to determine whether the attraction came from their personalities or from the love juice between their thighs. I was flattered to have met a man who craved the exploration of my mind and heart first - before my tits and ass. Mental and emotional intimacy (without the physical) scared the shit out of me though. But I grabbed tight to the rope and hung on...eventually easing up and letting him catch me. It was difficult to be vulnerable, but so rewarding. Subconsciously, my motto had been: Make it about sex so he can't get too close to you. He doesn't really know you, just knows how soft you are. But without the physical, there's no barrier...that's when you're truly naked in the rawest sense. Well, we found each other and discovered we are a sweet match. Despite his conservative ways and social awkwardness, he balances me. And even though I'm a feisty firecracker who loves a thrill, he enjoys the ride, and now has permission to be a bad boy, taking control and demanding what he wants and needs. This one is stable ~ has a flourishing business, home and promising future. For the first time in a long time, I can see myself as the good girl ~ taking a step back, letting him wife me, allowing him to take care of me.

I love you baby.

I love you too.

But does he really love me? Do I really love him? Or does he just love how I make him feel and I the same? Hell, is that the same thing as loving someone ~ loving how they make you feel about yourself?

You are just so nice
You make me feel young.
You support my ideas.
I've never felt this good with anyone.
You are the best I've ever had.

All I needed was a melody and Drake could have been singing to me. I felt his sincerity, truly I did. I know he believes he loves me, but I can't help but wonder if he feels that way because I'm better than his rest. I've helped him feel confident and sexy. But I have grown to believe that love is sacrifice. Love is selflessness. Would he turn off the talk radio for me? Move to the other side of town with the white folks? Tone down the sarcasm that hides his insecurity? Jump out of his comfort zone? The question is am I ready to find out.

~ The Trainer ~

I'm coming over tonight.

No.

I will be there at 11.

No.

See you tonight.

No.

Don't you love me?

I wanted to tell him yes...I love the way you fuck me. But instead I pleaded for him to stop pushing that love shit in my face. I mean really?? This is the man I had to stop training with because it was just too much...

Too much sex and not enough training.

What's interesting is, he's not the typical beefcake. He is quite intelligent, incredibly witty but dangerously cocky and bossy...which excites me like no other. At the same time, it infuriates me that I refuse to tell him to go to hell and not call anymore. I don't know if it's because his body is beautiful and just the thought of his sex makes me want to touch myself, OR if I love the urgency in the attention he gives ~ regardless if I submit or not.

Anyone who knows my name, knows that it's attention I seek, but still quick to drop a man off my boat without a blink.

I once asked why he keeps pushing me.

Because I love you.

You know what..maybe he does. In 9th grade, when we met, he was no different...following me around the locker room trying to get me to kiss him. At senior prom, he asked me to drop my man and go with him for a late night picnic. I never let him love me because my best friend did. How could he love me now? He doesn't even truly know me anymore, right? He could be crazy or running game . But how unnecessary. He never needed to say those 3 words to get me in bed...he had me at hello (ha ha). Whose to say that love has to be marriage, babies and commitment. Maybe he loves that I resist. A friend once said, " He loves that Spicy juice. He just can't get enough."

Is it just the sex we had?

Maybe.

Maybe he just loves the lustful dance, or still has high school fantasies. It makes him feel good to hear me fight it. Isn't it all about feeling good? Maybe people fall in love with the lust. Loving the lust. Hmm, I like that. So, for someone where commitment is a world away, the chase could be the romance....it could be the love.

But what happens if I get caught?

~ The Friend ~

He lives in my comfort zone. I can ask or tell him anything and know that his honesty is unwavering. His humor is my therapy and his stories are my hobby. I've known him for what seems like forever yet we talk like we just met. I guess you could say it's a politically incorrect friendship..breaking all the rules, but it works for us. I will never give him up....not for man or woman. He's beautiful, both inside and out. And no matter how much time passes, I still get excited when he enters the room.

How come we never got it together?

I don't know. You could say we were always traveling on different roads that never connected. Timing, is what he says. But is it really about that? Or is it that we are too close ~ know too much about each other to create the mystery of romantically dating. How could we enjoy the exploration stage? He knows all about my sex, lies and videotapes, the men in my life...how I react to them and to him.

All the crazies and stalkers he's gotten me through...the last minute airport pick ups, last minute party escorts and quick stops for liquid therapy sessions are all on his resume.

We can sit at a bar and talk for hours about politics, careers, babies and family. Listens to me when I have nothing to say. Exciting to see how we are both on the verge of blowing this town up, smacking it around with our success ~ doing what we came here to do. So much in common.

And then I've also known him to forget I'm just his friend and make love to me like he loves me...like he needs me. I can't even talk about that...it wouldn't be enough.

Is it too late for us?

Yes, I believe it is. For as long as I can remember.

But that's alright, because the truest love is friendship. We will always have each other's back and best interest at heart.

Sacrifice.

Selflessness.

At least I know why he loves me.

-C

Letter to A Soldier

Dear Brian,

There is something I never took the time to say to you.

Thank you.

Thank you for risking your life to protect mine. Iraq x 2, Afghanistan x 2, Africa, and so many other places you've traveled to serve our country. Your strength is undeniable and courage unwavering. To put yourself in the line of fire, the special operations and secret missions you've accepted when you could have chosen another path is uncanny. I am so sorry for the pain you've witnessed and experienced - the horrible tales you could tell and the death of your fellow soldiers. I can only imagine the long walk to his parent's door that day, to tell them how you watched their son die.

I remember the nights you woke me with the tossing and turning, cold sweats and mumbled conversation of tragic memories. Yes, the time you were crawling in your sleep, frightened me. But how can I complain? You are the one who lives with all the wars still in your mind. You are the one who has sacrificed so much to protect me...to protect all of us.

My thoughts and prayers are with you, especially on this day. May God Bless you and all your fellow soldiers both alive and deceased.

-C



For each soldier that has fallen so that many may stand
We honor their spirit as they pass to God's hand
For without their sacrifice we would live forever in fear
We pray for their loved ones and provide a salute and a tear
God help us heal the wounds of hate and the misery of war
That is our gift to our fallen heroes that are amongst us no more.

~ Charlie Gragg

Fallen

So happy my eyes opened before yours
Easy to absorb without witness

As I lay here beside you
Attempting to feel my limbs

I can’t move

Captured by the warmth of your soul
I groove to the rhythm of your breath, your heartbeat

The sun slowly pushes through the room
Gently caressing your face

I’m mesmerized

Unable to rise from this tease of Heaven
You are so beautiful with the love you spill

Lips stained with desire
I taste your shoulder blade

I’m full of wonder

What fear wouldn’t let me voice with the moon
I must scream from the roof with the sun

Tripped and landed deep in the well
But only light in here now

It’s so right

Blessed by just the thought of you
As you dream so soundly

I wonder if you feel my thoughts
If you know I’m yours

I love you


- C