shade: the truth about Q

don't YOU wanna stay negative?

2009-09-21T08:50:00.004-05:00

& no, it's not a trick question.

I recently got into a heated debate with a very good friend of mine (we'll call him "Boogie") & now I just have to ask, exactly whose responsibility is your HIV status?

You see in Boogie's opinion, not only is it not right & downright "mean" for the positive to still have sexual contact with the negative but, it's not even "safe" for the positive to freak with other positives.

Boogie fears that these actions only magnify the epidemic, with the latter leading to superinfection among those already living with the disease. His conclusion (or proposal) being that the positive should no longer engage in sexual activity with others PERIOD; & be limited to "jacking off...for the rest of their lives."

Boogie's opinion deeply disturbed me.

The truth is (& by truth we're talking about Q's) that your HIV status is your responsibility & your responsibility ONLY.

To anyone reading that is currently negative, I want you to take this moment to stop...& thank Jesus. Because you have made it this far in a world of "false negative" test results & the denialists whose online profiles proudly read "negative, as of month/day/year," & I know you see them. & yes sometimes you know, of your own accord, that said individual is lying but honey despite what most state laws say, he can't ever truly be held liable for infecting you.

Safe sex, is just that. & as hard as it may be for some to comprehend, it means not letting ANYONE insert ANYTHING into ANY ONE of YOUR holes UNLESS it is wrapped up in plastic. & the moment you fail to execute this standard practice then, guess what sweetie? It's no longer safe sex. It is unsafe & risky behavior, & if you're old enough to be reading my blog then you're old enough to know this.

The old (new age) adage "treat EVERYONE you meet as if they are infected," is the realest shit I ever heard. But ain't it funny that after 11 years of fuckin, I am just NOW understanding this? The crutch typically used is that if you love & trust or know for a fact that your partner is negative then, it's ok not to be concerned with safety. & often times though you may not let anyone penetrate you without a rubber, you are usually quick to suck that dick without one. Is safe oral sex honestly as ENJOYABLE for either party involved? Hell no. But is it SAFE? Yes...yes it is.

I'll even take Boogie for example. He has been with his lover for 3 years. They stopped using rubbers after the 1st. Yes, they do love each other very much & they do still try to get tested regularly but, their lives; their safety is being placed in one another's hands. & if/when an STD ever pops up (& ya'll I pray it don't) then they will simply play the blame game over something that was always in their OWN power to prevent. The idea of safe sex can be compared to the state department doing a safety inspection of a business. There is a checklist of items to be crossed off in order for you not to be deemed a safety hazard. If you miss just 1 of those items...you are in violation & as a result, deemed un-SAFE &/or HAZARDOUS.

Contamination, anyone?

Sometimes I can't help but admire my BFF Dee, for truly treating his body like the temple it is. He will not let a man take away his...negativity. He actually takes the time to THINK long & hard before ever becoming intimate with a man. Dee understands his own power. He knows what he has overcome. He is true to himself & his body as a whole but most importantly, he has no problem telling a man "NO."

Hell naw you can't come to my house this time of night.
Nah, I don't wanna fuck.
Naw baby, you ain't bout to give me what you got.
No...because I want to STAY negative.

As for Q, I've always had a little problem saying no; having gone to bed with many men when I really didn't even want to. Few will come out "after the storm" (you know, of life) unscathed & still negative. But truthfully, many will fall victim to that majority...who don't look at it as NOT wanting to stay UN-infected, but rather just WANTING to be touched by a man. & sometimes we lose sight of the consequences and repercussions: "Because his swag is mean," & "he bow-legged," & "girl, his dick is SO pretty," & sometimes even JUST BECAUSE...

But no one infects us...we infect ourselves. We were never a safe zone to begin with.

"Shit, I ain't tryna preach. I ain't even teachin[1]." I am just a short, chubby young man in Dallas who occasionally has a story or an opinion to share & today I am saying that YOU are in control...you always were. & if you are still lucky enough to be negative in 2009 then please remember, that only "you are the master of your fate...you are the captain of your soul[2]."

REFERENCES

1. "Ryde Away" (Eve featuring Anthony Hamilton) - Eve-Olution; 2002
2. William Ernest Hensley - Invictus (1875)

the definition...YEAAAA BRANDY!

2009-08-29T06:07:00.001-05:00

“I believe in love at first sight.”

My co-worker “Hannah” looked at me like I had just said I believed in Santa Claus. “Q,” she said, “the only thing you can feel at first sight is LUST.” But truthfully, love does not have a specific definition for everyone. Though it is generally recognized as intense and/or passionate fondness for some person, place, or thing...it’s really just not that simple. Case in point: Hannah’s new boy toy, Jabari (yes ma'am, miss vanilla only eats chocolate) is head-over-heels in love with her...after day 2. This frightens Hannah very much as she does not comprehend a (hu)man being capable of love so soon.

When I first fell in love, I was 17. & after only the first WEEK of going with "Tremaine," I was ready to move with him to Atlanta after graduation. He was the first guy I'd ever met that could handle me & my smart mouth. Tall, overweight, & bad-built...he was perfect (for me). Did he feel the same about Q? Probably not. But my point is, no one then nor now can tell me that what I felt in my mind & in my heart was not love. For me it was true & to this day, whenever Tremaine & I cross paths, I still get butterflies in my stomach. He's even more overweight & even more badly built now but when I look at him, all I see is the same strong willed & intelligent man that I fell in love with Summer 2002...& I'll always love him.

Truthfully speaking, I was in love from the moment my ex-best friend introduced us. I felt it from the moment we locked eyes. & what I felt for Tremaine, I can never demean by classifying as LUST. His body wasn't even what got my attention & even for the short time we dated, the most I ever did was give him head. The emotion & passion I harbored for him never revolved around sex or his body but everything else about him. Even the lies he told (that I later caught him in) only made him more human & real to me.

The truth is (& by truth we're talking about MY truth here) love is universal:

It's my obsession with words; my best friends infatuation with dancing or my ex-boyfriends pre-occupation with designer labels; it's the raw emotion of an 18-year old girl & her first.

It's you & thy neighbour; it's the flowers & the trees, the birds & the bees; a basic instinct instilled from the womb, shared by mother & unborn child before even being understood; it's Paris & Rome, Texas & Georgia. Love is as basic as hunger, thirst or sleep. Love is me...& you.

the cougar...fox-y like vivica

2009-08-01T05:01:00.000-05:00

SO...for as far back as I can REMEMBER, I have preferred the company of older men. I mean the younger girls just never knew how to act but, now even the old ladies have begin to turn me off.

Remember "Eddie ?" Well, one reason I never even attempted to pursue anything with him is because his standards are, well...unattainable: you know the type whose "I am looking for..." (on his BGC profile) lists abou 88 of the things he doesn't like in a man? Besides, we're better off as friends anyway. But he is still by FAR one of the prettiest 40-something year old men I've laid eyes on in the DFW.

My point is for a while, I could only even SEE myself being serious with someone older than me.

"And the only way you know you're older is that you (once loved by older men) now find yourself loving boys younger than you...[1]"

That guy from my last post: 20 years old. The infamous Bruce: 21. My baby Shane (sighs, I just don't even have the strength to go into his story right now): but he is 20...are you noticing a pattern? I turned 25 less than 2 weeks ago.

Once upon a time, I couldn't even fathom dating a guy younger than me...now, I find myself ONLY dating the new generation.

& it's not intentional...I didn't even notice until someone else pointed it out.

Am I slowly becoming that old girl at the club...the one who still tucks her shirt in (to mom jeans) & wears white tennis shoes?

"CALL SOMEBODY PLEASE!

GIMME SOMETHIN, PLEASE!!![2]"

I just don't know how this happened. I am listening to an Xscape cd as I type this...the last little boy I brought home didn't even know who Xscape WAS!

I feel so disgusting.

But this is the circle of life, right?

When I was 17 & in the 12th grade, my treasure chest was being dug in by a pirate named Oscar; who just so happened to be 25 & MARRIED with children. & though I don't see myself going to the extreme of adultery & contributing to the delinquency of a juvenile...I am now at that point...wher the young boys ARE the beautiful ones...

REFERENCES

1. Andrew Holleran - Dancer From The Dance; 1978
2. Diamond (Lisa Raye) - The Player's Club; 1998

this is NOT a test

2009-07-18T06:49:00.002-05:00

I thought that if I for ONCE was faithful to a man...he would appreciate it

If I did not tell one lie...he would only tell me the truth

I handled this one WAYYYY differently than the rest. We had a special connection, belonged to the same "secret society" & from him, I hid NOTHING.

I was seriously even considering letting him top me (5 inches, no tea). HELL, I even swallowed.

He told me that I gave the best head he ever had. That he "loved me" & that I "could COMPLETE him."

I believed it...

*sighs*

for 2 WHOLE weeks (i know right) we were a match set.

& not only, was he jobLESS, carLESS, & apartment/houseLESS but, I was puttin my honda on the road AT LEAST 3 nights out the week; drivin from my crib in Ft. Worth to his daddy & dem house in South Arlington; bringing him BACK to my place to lay up & THEN takin him back home every mornin.

My weakness is a nice ass...& his booty sat up on his BACK

I was in love

& then, he just STOPPED:

calling
returning calls
texting
returning texts
giving me ANY life

but, he still found time to login to his online profile EVERY day & even sent me a couple generic ass, la la ass messages: "hey, how's it going?"

the TRUTH:

i've been dating for one decade

4/5 men I've ever loved in my life...threw me away

Every man whose ever shown ME love...I walked out on

Now, take out a pencil, paper & divide the # of old, single gay men you know by the # in loving, committed relationships & what do you get? (check all that apply)

a. to one day find HIM & live happily ever after
b. to die still young & beautiful from HIV-related complications
c. to grow old...ALONE

Now, how many of you answered "a" ONLY?

retrospect

2009-06-25T22:16:00.002-05:00

Sometimes it's hard NOT to look back. No matter how much heartache & pain someone made you feel...there HAD to have been some love & joy in the mix. I was once told that you have to take the bad with the good, sometimes. & forgetting someone you loved is like remembering someone you've never met so, it's hard to just forget some people; especially when they brought you supreme pleasure...& considering how easily I am pleased; that's a lotta muthafuckas still crossin my mind.

I used to find myself reaching out, from time to time, to certain long lost loves; the ones you just lost touch with...right. Maybe, it was something I did? Maybe, I coulda prevented the discension? Maybe, I am the reason? MAYBE? But since when have the girls EVER needed a reason to drop a decent (I use that term loosely) dude like a bad habit? The truth is, I actually know HOW to treat a man. & typically, that is not what the kind of man I'm attracted to is interested in. The type of guy I usually find myself going out with, is turned ON by drama. Unimpressed by me drawing him a hot bath & rubbing his feet...the type of guy I like would feel love if I was thug tea silly; trade DOWN: Walked in the house, went off & popped his ass in the mouth. O yea, my kinda guy pops pills, might even do a little coke; drinks heavy, parties hard all night & sleeps in most of the day. In his mind, he IS a celebrity & for the short while he chooses to entertain me, I am his "captain:" His sponsor; his shelter; his transportation. It never even use to bother me, really. At that time, I accepted my place amongst the kids.

I didn't exactly look like them, or act like them but, still a part of the community (I use that term loosely), nonetheless. & since I felt as though I lacked in so many other departments then, I did what was needed for the company of a man. It didn't even seem senseless to me I mean, if a man is making me feel good the way I needed to feel good then, WHY NOT make him feel beat? It ain't trickin if u got it..." right? RIGHT???

WRONG!

It is STILL trickin...even if u do got it.

In a few weeks, I turn 25. Looking back, though my taste in men has evolved a bit, it's still basically the same (so sad). & there are still memories of men from my past that sometimes make me wonder...

all u single ladies...IF he liked it

2009-05-20T03:42:00.004-05:00

I REALLY hate dating. I mean not just the meeting new people (I low key hate that too) but the redundancy of it all. The same movies; the same restuarants; telling the same stories & jokes; laughing the same ol' laugh...with a different face, & a different name. But I'd be lying if I said that I genuinely enjoyed being alone ALL THE DAMN TIME. I strongly believe that human beings were built for companionship; for friendships, fellowships...for relationships. No man should have to walk to the ends of this earth for all of his years, ALONE.

Being an only child, I've always been a loner naturally. Independent & self-sufficient from an early age but, my grandmother made sure I understood that "everybody needs somebody, SOME of the time..." however my increasing collection of cocodorm & 1 liter jugs of silicone lube have only aided in the ease of going without the touch of another man's hand for extended periods of time.

& honestly it's not just the IDEA of dating that sickens me, it's the agendas & the trust issues, & TRUST...they all have one:

-I'm only lookin for a NSA hookup
-At this point in my life, I'm really just too busy for a relationship
-My last boyfriend just hurt me so bad, & now I have to be careful with my heart

NOW, even the most close-minded, bitter, jaded queen could argue in defense of these busy, heartbroken men just being unable to commit at this point in their lives...until you find out that since only fucking the shit outta YOU just weeks ago, that man is now in a serious, long-term, committed relationship...with ANOTHER muthafucka.

The true tea...he just wasn't that into you. & I mean, can you blame him? OF COURSE but, how can you seriously be angered that YOU weren't his "type?" I mean the fact that you were at least good enough to fuck (ya'll did fuck right?) should say a lot so, why even be upset? Because he didn't stay the night? YOU DAMN MUTHAFUCKIN RIGHT!!! Ciara got us all brain-washed...everybody "want the TITLE[1]." & 10 times outta 10, even the most content bachelor will throw in his playa card for that ONE hot piece: the one "who can suck his dick AND make biscuits from scratch[2]." But honey that leaves only you, your microwave cooking, & your dirty, numb ass pussy to blame for not being THAT girl.

Get up on yo gangsta...your next date might just put this ring on it.

REFERENCES

1. "The Title" (Ciara) - Goodies; 2004
2. Bad Mouf Bessie (Sheryl Underwood) - I Got The Hook Up; 1998

give NO life

2009-04-17T03:08:00.000-05:00

As we sat in the booth at Cheddar's & I sipped my THIRD texas frozen strawberry margarita bowl (with SUGAR around the rim of the glass) me & my BFF Dee stumbled onto the topic of kids:

Why they're a nice idea
Why we don't NEED them
Why I WOULD help a friend terminate a pregnancy
& why he is so ANTI-abortion

His main argument being, "they had no business layin up & makin the baby...our mother's didn't get rid of us...i can understand rape victims, they had no choice...every human being conceived, deserves a chance..."

I am 24 going on 25, "& I still look good[1]," & I spent AT LEAST 10 YEARS of my young adulthood resenting my father. I blamed him for everything I thought was wrong with me: my femininity because he wasn't around to masculinate me; my homosexuality because he was a former bisexual, so he must have passed me the gay gene..."I cursed the day he was born[2]!"

My mother, I couldn't STAND for close to 15 years: for conceiving me at the age of 14 & being too spoiled & immature to woMAN up; for leaving the burden of rearing me to my grandmother...for not being able to accept me coming out of the closet at the age of 13.

It took close to 20 years of life, just to begin to accept my fucked up ass issues (regardless of my parents') as MY fucked up issues. But it only took me to the FIRST quarter to get in the game...do you have any idea how many muthafuckas don't get off the bench until halftime? How many human beings are SO FUCKED UP in the head because they're parents & grandparents were REALLY FUCKED UP in the head & they don't even begin to UNDERSTAND, until their life is half over? Not even counting the ones who die STILL not realizing the damn point...

Now I'm not knockin Dee for his opinion & he wasn't knockin me for mine. But everytime I stop & look around to analyze & process headline news, sometimes it seems like just the thought of bringing kids into this world...they never even HAVE a chance.

REFERENCES

Savannah(Whitney Houston)-Waiting to Exhale; 1995
Charlotte(Kristin Davis)-Sex in the City - The Movie; 2008

but being "gay" IS a choice...freedom, part II: the truth about circumstances

2009-04-02T23:13:00.000-05:00

Now wait a minute muthafuckas:

You CAN'T help what you like.
You CAN'T help who you love.
& you DEFINITELY can't help what gets your dick hard (or your pussy wet, for my full bottom boys).

But, you CAN help how you identify.

Case in point, I used to mess with this dude name "Reynaldo." & Reynaldo was clearly a black, african-american, just as myself. Now, my ENTIRE lineage & ancestry may be a bit vague, but, I know what I identify as culturally & ethnically just based on my immediate family. Looking at Reynaldo's immediate family, I could see no cultural or ethnic differences that would lead me to believe he was anything other than a black, african-american, like myself. Yet, on his BGC, A4A, & Men4Now he made it a point for anyone who clicked on his profile to know that he was "a mixed male black mexican & indian but look ALL BLACK..." & yes, these are his exact words.

Now, I ain't tryin to hate on Senor Reynaldo Blackfoot but, I just don't think you can pick & choose your racial identity like this...I mean, has anybody noticed the # of non-spanish speaking "Blatinos" on BGC? Senorita PLEASE! Not when the closest you came to latin cuisine growing up was either Taco Bueno or Beef Taco Hamburger Helper.

But I digress.

Taking the first step out of the closet to identify as Gay (or Lesbian, Bisexual, Transgender, etc.) is in fact, a choice. It's more mental than physical or circumstantial because if you are not mentally in a place to handle such a POWVERFUL (does anybody else's grandmama pronounce her "w's" like "v's?") term being applied to describe yourself, it'll only lead to shame & guilt which is going to lead to risky behavior patterns, lies, & other foolish & avoidable choices. But without choosing a title then, what are you? Maybe a man who is attracted to both sexes...a man attracted to the same sex...a man who feels he is a woman trapped in a man's body...a man who isn't even having sex (God forbid). All I know is that the question of sexual orientation is not typically on a job, mortgage, or college application. But whatever the label, whenever YOU choose to identify, it should be on your own terms for the sake of your own sanity. No one should be able to take that power away from you when deciding how you should "live ya life, (eh ay eh ay eh ay) [1]."

Truth be told, "if tomorrow is judgement day; and I'm standin' on the front line; and the Lord ask me what I did with my life...[2]" I will say I loved my neighbors. I will say I embraced all mankind & treated others as I wanted to be treated. Hell, I'll even say I honored my mother & occasionally my father. But I can't say my gayness will be apart of my account. & certainly not because I view it as a "sin;" I honestly don't. But because I simply have so many other points to prove. My gayness (like my blackness, my citizenship, & my manhood) is firm enough to not be challenged...so there's really no need for defense.

Prosecution rests.

REFERENCES

1. "Live Your Life" (T.I. featuring Rihanna) - Paper Trail; 2008

2. "My Love is Your Love" (Whitney Houston) - My Love is Your Love; 1998

*SIDEBAR*

This is nothing more than a play on words. An exercise to show that views on any situation, or idea may change just by the verbage of the speech. & that human & spiritual laws, like the ones enforced by government are FREE for interpretation. This is how the validity of a point is determined by a judge or a jury of one's peers...it's all in the delivery

freedom: the truth about CHOICES

2009-03-16T15:50:00.007-05:00

God, grant me the serenity
to accept the things I can NOT change;
courage to change the things I CAN;
& wisdom, to KNOW THE DIFFERENCE - Reinhold Niebuhr

In 1984 I was born without a doubt, a male. Over these 25 years, I have grown from a boy into a man. & just as our animal kingdom counterparts (birds, dogs, cats, fish, etc), instinctually, I KNOW the distinct characteristics defining masculine & feminine. From appearance & overall demeanor, to mind state & gender roles. & no matter how much I did not agree with being called "womanly" as I struggled through puberty & adolescence...in retrospect, I can clearly identify all things feminine about my disposition.

It would appear that I am of African descent. I now identify myself as a black American, & though I may be able to expand or enhance my cultural beliefs...I can NOT change my race, nor my ethnicity. Being from Louisiana, I remember being conditioned by my elders to ACCEPT racism & prejudice at a very early age. I did not blatantly encounter an instance until 5th grade (Mrs. Williams was harder on her male students than her females, & favored whites over blacks). That school year was very life-changing for me. But with thick skin I completed my secondary education & since moving to Texas (hey, it is at least ONE step ahead), I have not looked back. These days I find a certain comfort in my racial identity.

I am a U.S. citizen...in fact, I was born into it. & unless some unforeseen circumstance occurs (yea, like my big permanent move to France), I will die an American. Because although it CAN be changed, it is something that will require a WHOLE bunch of paperwork & red tape to amend.

Being born an American, my civil liberties are outlined in the U.S. Constitution's Bill of Rights. This document, is the quintessential blueprint of every move I am allowed to make for as long as I shall reside in this country. What I am allowed to say; the firearms I can pack; whether my privacy can be invaded; if I am allowed to be enslaved or practice a religion & the qualifications to vote in all elections. Basically, the extent of all my freedom. But this is not a comprehensive report, in fact limited to my use of medicinal marijuana which may even be taxed; days/times I can legally beat my wife; & specifically who (or what) I am allowed to marry, will vary between state to state constitutions...confused yet? But wait, there's more (& I hope no one reading this is wearing open-toed shoes):

I was not born a Christian (nor Buddhist or Muslim for that matter). Therefore, my faith CAN be subject to change at any given moment. In fact, my religious belief & or affiliation can be switched up quicker than a politician's word. After being coersed into baptism at the age of 8, it wasn't until the age of 18 that I realized how unsure I was about what I'd agreed to a decade ago & began to learn of all the other options on the menu. As of today, I claim NO SPECIFIC religion or denomination (& I'll leave that there). But to be dictated to and or governed by a holy book (whichever testament/version you prefer), is a CHOICE. As for being a black American man, born free to BE...those are circumstances beyond my control.

DiLLusions

2009-02-16T22:51:00.000-06:00

That night I finally called. "Tim" had given me his phone number some time before on A4A but, I was just getting around to hittin him up. At first, he seemed like ALL the rest (DallAssholes) but, THREE hours later (yep, boo had some good conversation on him) still on that same phone call I was CONVINCED he was something special. We were into a LOT of the same things (Poetic Justice is his favorite movie & TLC is his favorite girl group) & he seemed so not typical & highly unusual. He kept hinting at me coming over to his place & after 3 hours of deep, entertaining dialogue, I happily accepted the invite.

I hadn't done anything to work up a sweat but, I still jumped in the shower & 15 minutes later I was on I-30 headed WEST. 40 minutes later I was convinced that my MapQuest mobile had failed me so I was forced to call for direction, which I really HATE doing (hey I'm a man, ain't I?). After laughing like a hyena in heat when I told him my location, I finally reached a point on the freeway to get off & turn around. 5 minutes later I arrived to a nice looking house in an even nicer looking neighborhood. I directed him to not have on any clothing when he greeted me at the door & to my surprise, he obliged. Tim opened the door wearing nothing but a du-rag & a smile & I was...speechless: about 5'9, maybe 165. Nicely built with pretty feet & a face that didn't look a day over 25 (he was 34). I walked in & he closed the door behind me & followed, closely.

"This house is HUGE," I thought to myself as I passed through the living room & into the dining room. & he lives alone, aside from his teenage son who he gets on weekends. We stepped into the light shining brightly from the kitchen. He was checkin me out from head to toe but, I was checkin out this beautiful home (a guy this fine KNOWS he's fine so, I opted not to look at him too long or too hard). I handed him one of the two bottles of beer I brought in, he took a swig & asked me to undress as I sipped mine. I got down to my boxers & then began to act shy but, he had no problem helping me out of them. He then dropped down to his knees & went to work on my cock.

I leaned slightly against the edge of the dinette table, tilted my head back & took a deep breath as I thought to myself, "I wanna marry him." After about 5 minutes he stopped, abruptly, & walked around the corner into his bedroom. I followed moments later to find him laying on his stomach. I reached around his waist, tooted his ass up & ate that bitch like he was food. He was begging me to "stop...DON'T STOP...stop...DON'T STOP!" I rolled him over onto his back, legs up & my face still buried in dat muff. Still moaning, he grabbed my head & snatched away. Smiling, he pushed me back onto the bed & straddled me as he reached into the nightstand & came out with lube & a rubber. I lay there watching him do all the prep & thought, "God, this man is BEAUTIFUL..."

It took him a minute to take even half of me in that position. Seeing the discomfort in his face I wrapped my arms tightly around his waist & rolled us over onto his back (I hate pulling out while I'm fuckin). His grip around my dick immediately relaxed & his eyes widened...he was enjoying it now. I kissed his lips as I stroked in & out of his body & I began to lose myself inside of him. I did not want to "beat" it...I wanted to make love to it. As I kissed & grinded he heavily breathed & moaned & without warning he spit me out (of his ass) & came all over his stomach. He then apologized for not giving me time to bust mine but, I wasn't even angry. I felt almost satisfied, having given him the pleasure he needed that night. We didn't lay there for much longer before heading to the bathroom together to clean up & I continued to sneak peeks at his beautiful body. I was in awe of his physical exhibit...I wanted him.

After I dressed he walked me to the door, still butt naked. We talked as he explained all the photos on the wall, the one of his son was his spitting image. We smiled, embraced, kissed, & I left...if only it ended there...

I thought about Tim the whole ride home. His face, his body, his smell, his taste...he was intoxicating (or maybe it was the 6-pack I drank earlier that night). By the time I made it home it was about 5 a.m. & I had made it up in my mind to pursue. I mean, why not? The typical jump-off does not, CAN NOT, carry an in-depth & meaningful conversation for as long as we had been on the phone so, he had already impressed me. I got online & sent him red (for passion) roses. He had to know I was seriously interested. I had to make him know. & then, he'd be swept off his feet & fall head over heels for me. I scheduled them to arrive the next day & after confirmation of delivery I waited patiently by the phone...he never called that night.

I lay in bed thinking about my actions. Maybe he was offended I only sent 6 instead of a dozen. Maybe he was allergic. Maybe he not into that faggoty bullshit & don't like flowers. Maybe he's just not that into you...I fell asleep sad.

He called the next day to thank me. He wasn't home when they were delivered so they were left with his neighbor & he didn't get them until that morning. I felt joy & hopefulness. I told him how much I enjoyed our conversation. How much I enjoyed being with him that night & how I'd like to get to know him even more. He then basically told me that I wasn't exactly his "type" but, he'd be open to being just friends.

We still text & call one another ever so often just to say "hello" but, the truth is he rejected me so, we'll probably never truly be friends.

To this day sometimes I wonder to myself, "Is love really just an illusion?"

concrete clear

2008-12-19T19:34:00.000-06:00

Why is your "position" field BLANK? I mean I been doing this for a while so, when it's left blank on the profile I already KNOW that you's a bottom...& the same goes for you girls who say "I DO NOT KNOW YET." You are a bottom who doesn't want to be looked at as emasculate & that's cool. It's ok because the last thing Q wants to do is judge you for your insecurities baby. But cool believe, as long as you can CLEARLY see "Top" on my profile then there's really no room for miscommunications when I strap on the rubber...right? That being said, let's go back in time for a moment to the night I met "Reggie" (remember when I said I was "a little bit tied up" when Oscar AKA "Dirty Booty" first tried to get at me?).

Now, from the moment I laid eyes on Reggie's profile on BGC I knew I would like him. 5'10, kinda chubby, with a kool-aid smile; he was my kinda guy! His "position" field was blank (as was his weight), which wasn't an issue. & even though his status which was a diss to his ex & the new guy, woulda probably sent anybody with SOME sense in the opposite direction, it intrigued me (this is a hint as to how much sense Q has). So I of course sent him a message & after some brief small talk we exchanged numbers & I was headed to his crib.

He stayed close, like 5 minutes away (I didn't even have to get on the freeway). I arrived to a very familiar apartment complex (Bruce used to live here) & I quickly found his place with no help. When he opened the door I was...pleased. He actually looked LIKE his pics & the apartment was LAID: I'm talking FULLY furnished (with nice shit), which is a rarity for the punks our age (he's 24). So I was impressed, to say the least.

We sat on the sofa & talked, REALLY TALKED, for hours. He was funny, country, & came off very genuine. After a few beers & squares we were both relaxed enough to venture off into more PERSONAL conversation. "So you top or bottom?" he asked. "Oh, you ain read my profile?" I snapped. "Nah man, dat don't be important when you first tryna get to know somebody." COOKED ME, I couldn't even argue with that...not without sounding like a sex-crazed freak. The truth (& by that I mean MY truth) is that I don't go online looking for friends or homeboys. I'm all stocked up with people to drink, smoke, & big kick it with. I'm online looking for a date; a fuck-buddy; or even just a jump-off. But to Reggie's last statement I simply replied, "yea you right, you need to get to know a person before worryin abou if ya'll gon be just friends or something more." MM-HMM! He replied, "exactly." So without the slightest bit of hesitation I boldly declared, "I'm a top." He reached out his hand to shake mine & greeted me, "hello FRIEND." WTF? & ya'll know I was bout ready to go on that note. But little did I know, the night was only beginning.

We talked more, laughing & feeling a lot more at ease since that chunk of ice had been broken. We had almost demolished his case of beer & out of nowhere he asked, "lemme see it." I asked, surprised, "let you see wha?" He smiled, "your piece." I was a little tipsy & feelin real good so I stood up & pulled it out. He grabbed it & began to blow me. The boy had a nice little head game on him & I wondered to myself where this was going...he then stopped abruptly, stood up, took my shirt off, pulled down my panties & bent me over. I thought to myself, "WTF?" He proceeded to eat me. Now, me being the STRICT top that I am, I've never really gotten into ANYTHING (tongues, fingers, penises, bottles, gerbils, vacum cleaner hoses, etc) being inserted into my shit-hole. But baby, that boy was COLD-BLOODED, & I was moanin like a lil BITCH. I dropped to my knees as they had begun to get weak & he followed me with his face still inbetween my cakes. He rolled me onto my back (dat muthafucka was kinda STRONG) & continued, alternating between eating me & sucking my dick...I was in complete ecstasy. He finally started to take off some of his clothing & then he lay in between my thighs & began to kiss me. I then realized that he was attempting to stick a finger in my butt & that's when I let out a small scream. He laughed, resumed kissing me & trying to finger me. & it was then that I noticed this big muthafucka had both my wrists over my head with one hand & had my body pinned underneath the weight of his...I began to get REALLY nervous.

He withdrew the finger, as he had only been able to get in almost to the knuckle. I sighed relief as he continued kissing me. Now as he had my wrists by both of his hands, still laying in between my thighs, he began to press against my hole with his piece. My eyes got big & I started breathing erratically. I began to wriggle & squirm until I got loose of his tight grip. I rolled over onto my knees & tried to crawl away but then he grabbed me by my waist & buried his face into my ass again. This nigga was CLEARLY no rookie. He then snatched me up (I'm tellin ya'll, this big nigga was STRONG) & walked me into the bedroom. He pushed me onto his bed & started giving me head, still fingering me. Between his hot mouth & his finger in my rectum I couldn't take no more...I came everywhere, some even went in his mouth. I lay there in the middle of his big bed basking. I finally pulled myself up & into the bathroom to clean up.

"WHOOOO!" I thought to myself as I looked into the mirror trying to catch the cum running dowm my piece & stomach with the warm towel. I felt my energy & strength begin to return to my just lifeless body. That boy was good, & a true top to even attempt climbing my back. When I re-entered his bedroom he was laying on his back on his cell phone. As I pulled on my t-shirt I realized that he hadn't even bust one. He hung up the phone as he stood up & I grabbed him by the shoulder & kissed him. I dropped down to my knees, opened my mouth wide & inhaled. I was tasting more pubic hair than I was flesh & I thought to myself, "shiiit I probably coulda took dis lil thang," (the piece had to be like only 4 or 5 inches). I pulled my t-shirt just over my head, grabbed his hips & let him fuck my face. I swear, I didn't even gag, his dick was so petite. His breathing got louder, his thrusts sped up & he whispered, "i'm finsta cum." We both threw our heads back, I grabbed his piece & jerked until he shot all over my chest. "Damn, I gotta go clean up again," I thought. As we went into the bathroom together I finally got a good look at his body in the light & thought, "he needs to update his damn profile."

As I drove home I could only reflect on Reggie's profile...it was about as clear as concrete, & I'm not only speaking of his role in the bedroom. Though his pics were true, even his height stated 5'10 & he was shorter than me (I'm barely 5'8). & I won't blame him for this I mean, maybe he REALLY doesn't know his height. But if he's just scared that saying he's 5'6 will turn off potential suitors then, he should know there's NO BIGGER turn-off when it comes to online dating than being MIS-LED. Because honey, those white lies, fibs, & half truths only become all out deceit & perjury (ask Lil' Kim bout it). & though you may "fake your way to the TOP, round & round [1]" dem other bitches...PLEEZBALEEV, it's gon take a BAD ASS (not even Boosie) to TOP this one.

REFERENCES

1. "Fake Your Way To The Top" (Eddie Murphy as Jimmy Early) - Dreamgirls Soundtrack; 2006

u got me FUCKED UP!

2008-12-11T19:41:00.002-06:00

To keep down confusion I must REITERATE that a lot of the events I post are not current. Though some take place in the present day, the others occured in my past. But I blog about those events which can teach me (or anyone reading)a lesson...whether I/we choose to learn or not

It has always been my firm belief that "I can't be that other woman...[1]"

I have never been that girl, to compare myself to the likes of Kimberly Jones, Monica Lewinsky, & definitely not Karrine Stephans. I am a man who deserves love & respect from any & all who I grant the pleasure of my presence. NOT some cum bucket to be taken off the shelf & skeeted in when you need to drop a load, then put back up after my purpose has been served...so why am I continuing this secret affair with Bruce?

I mean because, we NOT fucking (sucking, eating, or jacking) so, he's not using me just to blow his load. & he is NOT promising to leave his lover, who they call "T" by the way, for me. We just enjoy each other's company. We share a chemistry. He makes me feel so warm & GOOD inside when he's around...& as far as I can tell, the feeling's mutual. But an emotional affair can be just as low-down & dirty as a physical one. In fact, I KNOW that if not for the lack of either one of us being a receiver that day at his house, I would have BEEN his "Lil' Kim..." his "Supahead."

But Bruce is not a bad guy in my eyes. He's a 19 year old boy who's dating a 24 year old man (T) & he's entertaining another 22 year old man (me) on the side. I mean hell, he IS the american way...ask about him. But I'm an adult compared to this child. & I should NOT be "involved in this talk show shit[2]." Not only because he has made his choice (he's still with his lover) but specifically because even if he were to just up & stop talking to his lover FOR ME...I would never be able to fully trust him not up & leaving me for the next dude that tickles his fancy. So, why am I STILL continuing this secret affair with Bruce? Shit, because I'm Q... & "if it ain't LIVE, it ain't ME[3]!" But honey the shade is, his lover Miss T, was bout as LIVE as me...

Me and Bruce working together, in the same department, was the basis. Seeing each other everyday, it encouraged us to continue. So we did, but especially via text message:

-I miss u
-I miss u 2
-U look SO cute 2day
-Thank u baby
-U takin yo break wit me?
-Yea
-U gon stop by on yo way home 2nite?
-4sho babe

Now to me, these are all just innocent text messages between two people who share a special connection with one another. But to another bitch, that other bitch, these text messages would be a reason to set it the fuck OFF...

So uh, ya'll know T called my phone after he went thru all of Bruce text messages one night right? Of course he did the ladylike thing & confronted his man FIRST; so I couldn't be too mad at him, he went to his man first. But Bruce, being the 19 year old little boy he is, was not prepared for this day to come. He was speechless; he had no words. So when T asked, "what the fuck is this?" Bruce responded, "oh uh, I don't know." Now ya'll know, this is what I get for messin with this little boy. Why in the fuck are you not deleting my messages as they come? I don't even have a man, but you best believe I delete incriminating messages as they come & only archive the shit that may come up later. But this nigga, didn't even clean up his shit so now, it's bout to go DOWN:

T: "What the fuck you mean, you don't know? You replied to all his text messages didn't you? Who the FUCK is Q?

Bruce: "Baby, that's just my co-worker. We real good friends."

T: "You got me FUCKED UP! Do you not know i am CRAZY? Your co-worker? nah-uh, I'm goin to your muthafuckin job!"

Bruce: "Baby, why you trippin?"

T: "You betta call & tell him not to call yo muthafuckin phone no more!"

Bruce: "Baby, calm down. Let's just talk about it."

T: "OH, you ain gon call him? don't worry bout it den...I'LL call him!"

Meanwhile I am at work, OBLIVIOUS to the shit going down over in North Arlington between Bruce & T. It's Sunday (my Friday) & I'm actually having a good day, thus far. So when my phone suddenly rings, & I see "BRUCE" flash across my i.d...I just know my night is ONLY about to get better.

Me: "Wzup?"
T: "Who is dis?"

Me (recognizing this is NOT Bruce's voice): "Baby, you called MY phone. Who the fuck is dis?"

T: "This, is T."

Me: "OHHH...hi, how you doing?"

T: "NAH, ain't no 'hi how you doings?' So you know who I am?"

Me: "Ye-a, I done heard about you."

T: "Oh okay, well HEAR THIS: u bet not call or text Bruce phone NO MO!"

Me: "Hold up now Miss T, do you pay Bruce phone bill now?"

T: "Who the fuck you callin 'Miss?' I don't give a damn if I DON'T pay his bill, muthafucka!"

Me: "& ain't BRUCE the one paying BOTH ya'll phone bills since you STILL ain't got no job?"

SILENCE

T: "You know what? it really doesn't matter WHO pays the phone bill. You just betta not call his phone no more or else I will be down there to ya'll job. Ok?"

Me: "No tea baby. I'll lose Bruce number when BRUCE tell me to lose his number."

T: "He don't have to tell you to; I'M tellin you to! So PLEASE don't make me come to ya'll job."

T HANGS UP

& bitch, I'm just LOOKING. All I can do at that point is smile, still staring down at my phone; still sitting at my desk. But low-key, I am HEATED. I'm ready to fight. That bitch got me FUCKED up. & where the fuck is Bruce while all this shit is transpiring? So uh, ya'll know I called his muthafuckin phone right back to see what the fuck was up...no answer; & I was not about to leave a voicemail, NOT NOW. Since I was off the next two days, I decided to just go home & relax because I SWEAR that muthafucka had done ran my blood pressure UP.

Bruce never called back that night...or the next. I figured it was his way of politely respecting his lover, while letting me down easily...punk-built ass. I don't even know WHY I'm mad. I knew from the jump that T was the first lady in his life. I couldn't be angered or upset; hell, I couldn't even be disappointed..."I know what this is; I knew what it was.[4]" I was just bitter. I had finally been confronted with the truth. & the truth was, I was just Bruce's "sideline."

As could be expected, I drowned my sorrow in junk food while I wallowed in my despair. I lay waiting for my pizza from Joe's to be delivered, contemplating WHY exactly I allowed myself to carry on with Bruce for as long as I did. Truthfully: I was having too much fun. I mean even after the revelation of our sexual roles being mis-matched WEEKS AGO, we continued. There was an undeniable chemistry; a physical attraction & a genuine enjoyment of one another's company and since there was no presence of sex in the equation then...who were we hurting? (This was before I was old enough to know that "cheating" can go above & beyond sex)

...I didn't even realize I'd dozed off until the knock at the door awakened me. I grabbed the money off the table to tip the delivery guy before I unlocked the deadbolt, not even looking thru the peephole & there I was, greeted by the smirk of Bruce holding my pizza with his hand stuck out. Oh yea, I DEFINITELY had a tip for that ass...

REFERENCES

1. "That Other Woman" (Changing Faces) - Visit Me; 2000
2. "Talk Show Shhh!" (Shae Jones) - Talk Show; 1999
3. "If it Ain't Live, It Ain't Me" (Mystikal) - Tarantula; 2001
4. "My Love" (Jill Scott) - The Real Thing: Words and Sounds, Vol. 3; 2007

reflection (a suicide note)

2008-10-30T17:45:00.012-05:00

As I stand on the edge of this cliff looking out into the empty abyss
I can only ponder, “how did I get here?”
Through a series of unfortunate events
I’ve lost almost all that is near & dear
& yet, I have no one to blame but myself
Although my choices may very well have revolved around others
My choices, no matter how bad, were my OWN
I CHOSE THIS PATH that I now walk alone

& as I stand here now on the edge of this cliff,
Staring into the empty abyss, I pause & ask myself, “who did this?”
Only I know the answer to that question
The truth is, my downfall is my own doing
From all the priceless & prized possessions I’ve lost
To all the useless things & vices I’ve gained
To say my life is in shambles would be an understatement...
Shambles can be stabilized
My life is in RUINS

& now as I stand on the edge of this very cliff,
Gazing out into the empty abyss
My thoughts resonate loudly, “now is the end, let me go in peace.”
As I think about all the opportunities passed,
& the life I could now be living
The lies told to those close to me
The lies I never asked for, but received
The lack of job stability, verge of bankruptcy
The abundance of corruption from the one I gave it all to
The loss of livelihood, dignity, sanity, & all logical thought process
My heart, my mind, & spirit all broken to pieces
I want to cry, scream, & shout for all to hear
But it would only be in vain
No captain can save me now...
So as I dive from the edge of this cliff
Plummeting down into the empty abyss
I will feel no pain...because now, I am free

- Q. Deon

I wrote this note 1 year ago this month & looking back, things really weren't that bad: Immediately following the reconciliation of me & my ex, I hit rock bottom. Now I have NEVER contemplated suicide...I don't think I would ever have the balls to intentionally end my OWN life. But for a moment, I did wonder if death would bring relief from the pain; the pain of betrayal; the pain of heartbreak; the pain of living. & in a sense, I did die...well, a part of me anyway. & for a while, I never looked back. But now the worst of my past seems to be the best of my future. October 2007, I was down so bad I didn't think I could go anywhere but up...PSYCH-adilly! It was only the prequel.

damn...

2008-10-25T18:10:00.019-05:00

Since I made the move to Texas, almost two years ago, I've had my share of the different types of men Dallas had to offer. Very few remain constant in my life...very few remain. But there has been ONE in particular who stood out from the pack. You may remember mention of his name from this post. But let me just start from the beginning...

I had been working at that call center for only a short while but I was LOVIN IT! Having left the minimum wage of north Louisiana ($5.80/hour) the previous year, to now actually be able to pay all my own bills without help from my grandma & still without having a degree? Honey I was good...but I still felt empty. The apartment was fully furnished. I wasn't in any debt (besides student loans). "I could go where I wanted, do what I wanna do[1]." & I was surrounded by good friends. BUT me being human, I still wasn't satisfied. I laid alone every night & had began to long for a companion. Though I still had ties with my ex (we were still fucking), I wanted something more; something new.

It began as a typical Thursday & I was headed to work. Now the floor I worked on had been buzzin because of a new training class that week but I ain't friendly, so I had no intention of meeting or greeting with anybody...& then I saw him: 5'10, about 185 lbs, low-cut, toffee brown, & VERY well dressed...o yea, I had to get him. & after one long look into his eyes, I knew enough to know but, there was something off about him...

We continued our friendly glances over the course of a couple weeks & even the occasional head nods & "what's up man." He served on the daily for work, butch queen DOWN: blazers, jeans tucked inside of timbs laced all the way up, earrings with stone sets to match the fit, even drove a cunt car. I wanted him...but something was preventing me from approaching. It was weird, I ALWAYS approach when I see something I like but something just wasn't sitting well with me about him & I just couldn't put my finger on it.

One afternoon, as I'm headed to work again, I pass him outside on his phone readin somebody for FILTH about his car. He had made me nervous so I just kept walking looking straight ahead because I didn't need her poppin fly with me for being all up in her mug. At that point I decided that for whatever reason my gut was telling me not to pursue her, for the first time I was gonna listen. It was time for me to forget about miss cunt butch.

My 15 minute break finally came & I was hungry DOWN. I headed to the breakroom to raid the vending machine & as I sat down to tear into my kettle-cooked jalapeno potato chips, a body walked up from behind & sat right across the table from me...it was him staring dead up in my muthafuckin face...all I could do was smile. He returned it, beautiful teeth. "What's yo name?" he asked, still staring me dead in my eye. "Q," I smiled, "what's yours?" He didn't even blink, still gazing at me & then finally responded, "Bruce." We chatted for a few minutes & then he said, "gimme ya number;" not asking, but telling me to. I paused & thought "this is not right...I thought I wasn't gon go after him...& I should be the one asking him for his number..." He never did break his stare into my face & hell, even though I did say I wasn't gonna pursue him, it was him pursuing me...I gave him my number before returning to my desk to finish my shift.

He actually called the next day, surprisingly. We talked...and talked...and talked for what seemed like hours. He was from dallas, just moved outta his mama house, & a HEAVY weed smoker (a pot head.) But the most surprising detail was his age...19. I swear this dude looked every bit of 25, & spoke & acted it too. If I had that much sense at 19 maybe I woulda turned out to be "somebody." But honey anything that glitters, might just turn out to be aluminum foil. & I had 3 more years of wisdom on him so I had to hit him with that question, the one that had gotten me good so many times before: "You don't have a boyfriend?" I asked, intrigued that a kid this fly could ACTUALLY be single. He hesitantly answered, "uhhhh, ye-a." Mmmph. But truthfully, it was not a gut-punch. He didn't lie about the fact that they lived together; the fact that they were "in love in this sumbitch[2];" or the fact that he was having second thoughts about them sharing an apartment. But like most, he was not just gonna come out & tell me first & risk missing out; I would either have to just find out bout the shit or simply ASK. & honey doing what I do for this long, I interrogate like Law & Order.

So ya'll already know...I went over to they townhouse when he invited me (shit, ya'll know me; i'm trying to "see how the booty work...[3]"). & he looked really different in just a wife beater & basketball shorts. Not UNattractive, just a little, less (he used to be big but lost a lot of weight & now has no definition in his upper body) but I wasn't trippin. As we sat on the couch he began to roll a blunt (he smokes at least 2 before work each day) & wasted no time going IN about his lover & how sick he was of the living situation. THE RUNDOWN: He loved him, he just hated living with him. I comforted him. He kissed me & despite the weed smoke...he tasted sweet. I wrapped my arms around his waist. He wrapped HIS arms around MY waist. We continued kissing for about 5 minutes straight, slobbin DOWN but, he had yet to reach for my penis... & then BAM! that shit hit me like a nigga's daddy: What was off about him; what hadn't been sitting well with me but I couldn't put my finger on...until right then. I snatched away from him, looked him dead in the eye & asked, "are you a TOP?" He looked confused, then responded, "uhhhh, ye-a. What are you?" I just looked at him, disappointingly; nuff said. I knew my gut was telling me to leave this muthafucka alone for a reason. I was TOO through.

We both sat back on the couch, silent. He finally spoke, "I'm finsta start gettin ready for work." I thought to myself, "shi-it, you ain gotta tell me but once." I grabbed my keys & he stopped me, "no, don't leave yet," he smiled, leaned in & kissed me. I just looked like, nigga what? But I didn't argue, I just sat back down. It didn't take him long to throw on his clothes & jewelry. He looked so damn sexy when he re-emerged downstairs, I swear. He pulled me up off the couch, wrapping both arms around my waist. As he gazed into my eyes I could only think to myself, "what the fuck is this? Is dis nigga serious? I hope he don't think he gon sweet talk me into givin up the pussy? Shi-it, that ship sailed YEARS ago..." He kissed me, so gently but I swear I felt HEAT. This lil' 19 year old nigga had more game than the 30 & 40 year olds I be fuckin wit. He gon be somethin SERIOUS by the time he old enough to drink. He smiled & whispered, "let's go."

We walked to the parking lot, & before he hopped into his car to head to work, he leaned over & kissed me one more time. I'm standing there shocked & amazed, asking, "your neighbors ain't messy? They not gon say nothin to your boyfriend?" He smiled, climbed inside his car & replied "I don't care." As he crunk up, backed out, & drove off I could only think to myself, "damn..."

REFERENCES

1. "Should I Go?" (Brandy) - Afrodisiac; 2004

2. Martin Lawrence - You So Crazy; 1994

3. Lucky (Tupac Shakur) - Poetic Justice; 1993

you know what? i'm tired of this

2008-10-14T18:13:00.012-05:00

Ok this is the LAST straw, that broke the camel's back against the wind, & honey, enough is ENOUGH! So let me take you back to that night...

Now me and "Oscar" had been playing email tag on A4A for a while but the night we were SUPPOSED to hook up I ended up...a little bit tied up (I'ma tell ya'll about that another day). So, we rescheduled for the following night & I'm GEEKED UP because his body pics are 1-2-3 so you already know. We've established that he's 40 years old, works nights like me & single. But nervous about meeting me, as well as being allergic to cats, but it's no tea because I have no problem kicking Avery out of my room when I have a gentleman caller. So that night, I picked up a bottle of wine (2 bottles actually), straightened up my place a bit, & took a shower. As I rubbed on my body lotion & cologne I pondered:

"Will Oscar be the one?"
"Maybe he can be my regular?"
"Gosh, I'm so tired of hoein & jippin."
"I hope he likes me."
"I been doing these damn Kegals like A.B. Irby said to, I hope they work."
"I hope this cologne ain't too strong."

I poured me another glass of red wine to calm my damn nerves. I always get real anxious the first time I hook up with someone new. I lit me a square & stretched out butt naked across my sofa.

"He's late," I think to myself at 11:53pm. By 12:05 I decide to call. "You lost?" I asked. "Naw man, I'm pullin into the apartments right now," he answered. It then takes him another 10 minutes just to find my damn door (i swear, no one can ever find my apartment). I leave the door unlocked for him. He walks thru & I check him out from head to toe...I'm...pleased, I guess.
I mean, Oscar definitely LOOKS his age but he's a pretty color: "you know I gotta soft spot for chocolate[1]." & he has a decent mug so, I'm NOT disappointed. But he seemed real paranoid like, irritatingly:

"turn on some of these lights."
"no, you walk into the room first."
"you ready huh?" as he pointed to my fishbowl full of assorted condoms & lubes
"I know somebody musta told you about me, that's how you knew I was allergic to animals."

I swear, I almost told him to get the fuck outta my house. But hell, I'd waited this long for him to come over so, I decided to try and help him relax.

I sat him on the bed, between my thighs & began to rub his neck & shoulders. He smiled, & even allowed himself to enjoy it. I began to lift his shirt up, he stopped me before I could get it over his head & whispered, "no, no, no." I swear, I was about to put this nigga the fuck outta my house. He stood up, then pulled me up with him. He turned his back to me while pulling me to his ass. "About damn time," I thought to myself. "You cum quick?" he asked. "Depend on how good it is," I answered as I pulled down his shorts & oooh, no draws on? YES! He was ready (or so I thought). I grabbed a rubber & a lube packet outta my bowl & begin to roll the rubber down my shaft with one hand, while lubing him up with the other (ya boy can multi-task). He jumped as I put the head in, so I eased the shaft in. He could take it standing up, my second favorite position to being rode, so he was earning back some of the points he lost with his paranoia. He whispered, "jack my dick baby, so this ass can open up." I happily obeyed hey, it's all about teamwork. After a while, he spit me out (of his ass) & got on all fours on the bed, face down ass up. "I need somebody to fuck this ass on the regular man," he said. "We'll see," I replied. O yea, this shit was bout to be all mines. I started wearin that ass OUT! He was beggin for more lube, so I passed him the big tube off the nightstand while he turned onto his back. & as I went back into that sloppy, wet, warm ass that's when it hit me...that oh so familiar stench. I was OVER it.

Thank God he came right after that because my dick was about to go limp. I could not believe it. I didn't even WANT to cum. I immediately pulled out to head for the bathroom & when I flipped on the light to glance down at my dick, that ultra-thin fuschia condom was covered in mud. WTF? I have not been painted in FOREVER. I didn't even know the girls still painted. Was he serious? Did he even wash his ass? Why would you even CALL ME, asking for the dick if you wasn't prepared for the dick? He don't love his self. Maybe if this was a little boy, but this was a grown ass, middle-aged man. Me personally, I been doing this shit for YEARS. So I can always handle a light airbrushing, I mean hell, I am diggin up inside a man's rectum (it kinda comes with the territory). But for a full coat of paint to be on me, & trust it WAS on me, my pubic hair & my damn stomach. I was disgusted. I was speechless. HE HAD TO LEAVE!

When I made it out of the bathroom Oscar was dressed & standing at the door. "Alright man," he said. "Yea," I responded, dryly. I locked both locks, & went to change my damn sheets before I took a second shower & I swear, that hot water never felt so good. But to all you "bottoms," get ya swagger up baby. It's 2008, going on 2009. No more excuses, no more tears, no more drama, no more shit: dookie crumbs in my sheets, dookie crumbs on my dick... "dookie crumbs in the hall, dookie crumbs on the wall; it was enough shit in that house to make a DOOKIE POT-PIE[2]!" & I swear, the next one of you muthafuckas shit on me, I'm goin in yo muthafuckin mouth...believe dat.

REFERENCES

1. Adina (Paula Jai Parker) - Sprung; 1997
2. Cedrick (Brian Hooks) - Q: The Movie; 1998

the truth about the electoral college

2008-10-04T16:08:00.009-05:00

This Monday, October 6th, is a deadline for voter registration in many cities across the nation & I feel like now is my last chance to impart some knowledge to those still ignorant. I honestly was not voting this election, & not just because my girl Hill didn't get the nomination. But more specifically, after Al Gore lost in 2000, not because of the people's votes but because of the electoral college's votes, I had decided that democracy was in fact not, "for the people," nor was it "of the people" & honey I didn't want anything else to do with politics PERIOD. I was ignorant to the facts, & to the policies & procedures governing this nation. This article, by Dr. William Jelani Cobb is the best breakdown I've ran across of the election system. Whether you vote or not is on you. It's your right, & no one can tell you what to do with it (though many will try). But if you're not voting because you're like I once was, simply ignorant to the facts, allow Dr. Cobb to enlighten you:

The Breakdown:
The Electoral College, that confounding instrument of our democracy, finally explained
Monday, February 04, 2008

By: William Jelani Cobb

In an election year in which almost nothing could be predicted from one moment to the next there is one absolute truth: at some point you will enter a barbershop, barbeque joint or church basement and hear the following statement: "I don't vote because we don't even ELECT the President, the electoral college does" -- which leads to the inevitable declaration that we should abolish the electoral college and general head-nodding all around. But the truth is you really don't want to do that -- and here is why.

The Electoral College is basically the system through which "raw" popular votes are filtered to produce the final results in Presidential elections. When you pull the lever (or, more accurately poke the screen) for your candidate in November you are actually voting for a slate of "electors" who have been chosen by officials in the candidate's state parties. Those electors have been picked, usually after years of service to the party, and are motivated to see the candidate who emerges from their convention win the presidency. Given the fact that it is possible, as Al Gore did in 2000, to win the popular vote and lose in the electoral college, the system has always had the look of a conspiratorial hustle designed to prevent the people from having true political power. But the weird truth is that the electoral college makes American politics more democratic, not less.

Every 7th grader learns that the Constitution has a series of checks and balances designed to prevent too much power from accumulating in the hands of any one set of individuals. But we pay less attention to the fact that it is also designed to filter the power of the masses (or as we like to call them "The People") as well. And that is a good thing. We tend to associate tyranny with an individual, but -- as an Iraqi Kurd or a Roma in Eastern Europe or a brother from Alabama could tell you -- majority rule is not the same thing as democracy.

The Electoral College reflects that tension. It is basically a compromise between those drafters of the Constitution who supported direct election of presidents and those who wanted Congress to choose the president. Under the Electoral College the popular vote is rerouted through a proportional system in which each state gets a number of "electoral voters" that is equal to their total number of Senators and Representatives in the House. Their skepticism about "majority rule" was a product of their political failures and the social upheaval that marked their first years as a "democratic" country.

Having already seen the tyranny that resulted from having too much power concentrated in the hands of one individual, King George III, the Founders moved in the opposite direction and created the Articles of Confederation. The weakness of the central government under the Articles reflected the Jeffersonian belief that "the people" were inherently more fair and just than any set of rulers would be. When Thomas Paine wrote that "Government at its best is but a necessary evil," he reflected the early American skepticism about human nature and the corrupting influence of power.

But by the time the Constitution was drafted a decade later, mob riots and uprisings had made it clear that all the flowery prose and romantic imagery of "The People" was only half the picture. The population at-large was often violently excitable, unruly, prone to act upon their passions and not necessarily all that democratic themselves.

The Electoral College is just one of the "filters" built into the Constitution; Senators, for instance were elected by state legislators, not the voters in the individual states themselves until the 17th Amendment was passed in 1913 allowing for direct elections. But a democratic side-effect of the College was that it made individual votes worth more, not less. In most states the electoral college operates as a winner-take-all system, meaning that if candidate A wins 100,000 votes and candidate B receives 100,001 votes, candidate B gets all the electoral votes in the state. That means that the individual casting that deciding vote is extremely important. Under a popular system candidate A really doesn't lose anything. That one deciding vote doesn't mean much because no matter what candidate A walks away with only .01% less than candidate B. Now, elections are generally not going to be decided by a single vote, but under a winner-take-all system the worth of every individual vote is still magnified.

Aside from that the college basically forces candidates to take a broad array of concerns onto their platform. Under a popular vote system a candidate could win in seven or eight of the most populous states, lose in the 40 or so others and still become president. Under the Electoral College the margins are much more narrow. Anyone who remembers the imfamous blue-state-red-state maps of the 2000 elections knows that Republicans tend to win in lots of states and Democrats in the states with the largest populations. If we were operating on a popular vote system you would probably see Democrats and Republicans fighting it out in those states that have the largest population and ignoring the rest of the country.

If no candidate receives the clear majority of electoral votes -- like the elections of 1800, 1824 and 1876 -- the House of Representatives chooses the president in an arrangement where each state electoral group gets one group vote. And then there is the scenario favored by conspiracy theorists nationwide where a cabal of electors decide to ignore the popular vote altogether and pick their Skull-and-Bones frat brother as President. While the Constitution says nothing about who the electors have to vote for, most states have penalties ranging from heavy fines to incarceration for electors who vote against the candidate who wins the majority in their state.

The reality is that there are more than enough reasons -- felon disfranchisement, voter purges, questionable electronic voting machines -- to be skeptical about the political system. And a degree of skepticism is probably in the best interests of any citizen. But abolishing the electoral college won't get us any closer to fixing American democracy and would almost certainly leave us worse off.

William Jelani Cobb, Ph.D. is an associate professor of history at Spelman College. His third book, now available from NYU Press: To The Break of Dawn: A Freestyle on the Hip Hop Aesthetic

about that online revolution...i ain miss SHIT

2008-10-01T21:17:00.016-05:00

Where do I begin? It's complicated (like pretty much everything involving Q) so this time I'm gonna go slow. When we last left, Cori had given me his phone #, which was the exact opposite of what I expected him to do:

Was I in love? HELL no.
Did I wanna pursue something? Maybe.
Should I have just erased his number & forgotten I'd ever met him? Hmmm.
Should I just fasten my seatbelt & brace myself for the ride? DING DING DING!

I waited until late that night to text him. 20 minutes later, no response. I thought, "oh duh, he's probably like me & only gives out the house phone #." I decided to call but what greets me? A hip-hop ringtone...followed by a voice mail. Hmmm, sounded like a cellular. But hey, it is after midnight & he does work "normal" hours so he's probably asleep, duh! "I am like SO inconsiderate," I thought. AH WELL, might as well see what else is poppin tonight. & as I log in to BGC & click on my friends & my favorites but who do I see? Cori. But I mean just because he's "online" doesn't mean he's online, so what do I do? "I'ma go over there & say hey[1]!" I sent him a message, "was that a house phone # you gave me?" Me still trying to cut a brother some slack for straight up IGNORING me & his rather hasty response was, "o naw it's a cell. sorry i missed u earlier..." All I could think was sorry huh? "Yea you sorry. Ya sorry muthafucka[2]!" But me being the "G" that I am I simply replied, "cool beans man, jus holla @ me later."

That should have been the end. Any logical man with common sense would not have subjected himself to further humiliation. But not my black ass, I live for the chase. I thrive on resistance, & a man playing hard to get only fuels my fire baby...I wanted more. 3 days passed & I noticed he was never logged in anymore. I went to his page to see the last time he was online:

"This account: Milleniumodel has been placed on hold by the owner;
Message from Milleniumodel: I am trying something new."

'Something New,' huh Sanaa? I waited about 3 more days before I threw myself at his feet via text message: "U said u were 'comin back...'" My desperation is really disgusting. He replied rather promptly, again (he never answers phone calls but always responds to text message? maybe he's a I-M: a text girl), "I did say that but someone that I have had my eye on has come through. We have been chilling..." 5 minutes later, he followed up with, "Ur cool and I would like to continue to communicate and hang if ur ok with that." Those words were the gut-punch & I had been hit HARD. How do I even respond to that? He had a choice, as we all do in life & he made a decision. He made the decision that he thought was best for him. I can't even say I'm angry with him, I mean I probably woulda passed me up too (I'm having a moment here). Days turned into weeks & he would send me a text message here & there, just to say "hey." He even made the effort to have small talk. He was still the same guy that laid across my futon mattress that night...he had just found a better bed to sleep in; he had found a Sealy Posturepedic.

FAST FORWARD:
That weekend could not come quick enough. I needed to see my hairdresser "Eddie," STAT! Not just because I had new growth, but because Eddie was like a therapist to me. He listened intently & hung on to my every word. He would give me his opinion & even offer tidbits of advice. He was a friend, loosely. Not to mention he was easy on the eyes & not half bad in bed either, but we ended up having way more chemistry outside the bedroom than we did in. I was late for my appointment as usual, & he was evil about it. He even threatened to stop doing my hair! But I wasn't having that, he's the only person in Dallas that can do my hair. I would have fallen to the floor & kissed his ashy feet to stay in his good graces.

As I lay back for the shampoo I didn't have much to say. I felt many emotions but I was tired of hearing about them & to my surprise, Eddie picked up the slack. He began to talk about himself & this "guy." This "guy" as he called him, whom he had just recently started seeing was nice, younger (29, but Eddie is over 40), educated, from east Texas, & FINE as he described him to me. Eddie's only problem with him (& u know the girls ALWAYS find a problem with him)? He was femme. Eddie hates femme. Not a homicidal hatred, just not to date. & you know I had to stick up for the softer men, as I call them. & not just because I date them just the same as I date masculines but because I know what it's like, to feel like your own kind have turned against you; you will do some STRANGE things:

The general consensus of "guys attracted to guys" (gag bitch, since all these girlz feel offended by being called gay now...fuckin fags) despise anything even remotely femme. This leaves those men that are naturally womanly feeling like misfits...outcast (sound familiar?). & what's a girl to do when shunned by the men he should be connecting with? Hell, almost ANYTHING. He'll damn near sell his soul to feel included & welcome...to feel wanted. This is the formula for femmes who put on a masculine front just to get a man. & as an old boyfriend of mine once put it, "everybody wants trade, but nobody wants to be trade." I guess what Eddie's "guy" failed to realize is that whatever you do to get that man, you'll have to
continue doing to keep that man.

The more Eddie talked & the more I listened, this new "guy" seemed eerily familiar. From his age & location, to his looks & femme persona I felt like I knew this guy. Eddie was not about to slip & say his name so, I had to get gutter & fish for tea, honey. Eddie began to talk about how nice of a car the guy drove. I jumped on my opportunity, "for real? what he got a Lexus?" I had to sound innocent in questioning yet simply interested in the conversation. He answered, hesitantly, "nah he drive a [sports car], it's a newer one. Real cute too..." gut-punch! I swear these dudes be "hittin harder than a nigga's daddy." I was too through. This "guy" he was going out with was Cori. Cori, whom he found too femme to continue seeing or pursue anything serious with. The same Cori, who decided we should just be friends so that he could be with Eddie. Eddie, whom I met online & fucked 2 years ago. The same Eddie who has now evolved into not only my hairdresser but my friend. There was only one thing left for me to do.

I know ya'll don't think I spilled tea? Bitch please! I will sit on tea for YEARS & might take some to the grave. & they might call me secretive, might even call me a ho but one thing they won't call me is messy. To tell Eddie the truth about my knowing Cori would only cause more friction & Cori was already on thin ice with him. Q was NOT gonna be the reason. So honey I sat there & got my hair done as I continued to listen to Eddie talk. But his voice was eventually drowned out by my own worries as I thought, "how does this shit get so complicated?"

REFERENCES

1. Shante Smith (Vivica Fox) - Two Can Play That Game; 2002
2. Jenny (Natalie Deselle) - How to Be a Player; 1998

UNconscious

2008-09-26T20:54:00.014-05:00

I am aware of the world outside the window,
Fully aware of my surroundings,
Though the view is quite dismal
I am lucid, I can see the state of the nation,
& it runs much deeper than prices at gas stations
I understand, for over 5 years we been at war
I know all this, I see the price jump at the grocery store
I'm not hallucinating, CNN is not a mirage
& neither is the bomb shelter underneath the garage
I am watchful of my grandma’s healthcare, I can see she tired
Manual labor over 30 years, still can’t retire; now I’m inspired
To try & change the world, become an activist
I'll have another rum & coke... (forgets all about it)

-Q. Deon

I ran across these two opinion pieces over at allhiphop.com showcasing different points of view on this election & the debates:

Editorial 1

Editorial 2

Posted using ShareThis

TALK ABOUT IT!

the online revolution...sorry i missed it

2008-09-25T23:45:00.025-05:00

For those who haven't figured it out yet, I'm single. A single gay male, in the city, in the south. For the most part, it's a pretty carefree life I live but sometimes...I get lonely. & out of pure, pathetic despair one night, I found myself back grindin online. & I swear, it's about as cut-throat, vicious & potentially fatal as it is out there for them boys hustlin on the block. It's real out here in these cyber streets. But against my better judgement (my other head) I logged in to that familiar place & surprisingly after 70+ days in my absence, absolutely NOTHING had changed. Same ol’ people, same ol’ pics & profile requirements ("no fats, no femz, masculine dudes only, no pic=no reply; no shirt, no shoes, no service etc.") lookin for the same ol’ thing. Even funnier the same ol’ dudes hittin me up, forgetting that we’ve already talked/fucked before. Which brings me to this particular night…

I get a message from “milleniumodel.” I never forget ANYONE who gives me their number, especially if I’ve actually called & had a conversation with them before. Unfortunately not everyone’s memory is nearly as good as mine, which is sad considering how much some of these dudes online “get around.” I shoot the shit with him for a few minutes when he reveals he’s “horny as hell.” There was no need to even ask him to unlock his privates because I had already seen his look-book & BABY, the body was BANGIN! So I graciously oblige to let him come keep me company for the night. He interjected, “but you ain’t got no pics?”

*A WORD FROM OUR SPONSOR-

NO, I do not have ANY pics of myself on BGC, A4A or anywhere else on the internet (except facebook). "It’s a personal choice every man has got to make for himself [1]." I mean I'm not in the closet or anything, I just hate taking pictures. & TRUST, I ain't never had a problem; I don't even hit dudes up. I just login & BAM! bumrush. I guess it’s the mystery behind that question mark.

-NOW BACK TO OUR REGULARLY SCHEDULED PROGRAMMING*

He then states, “I don’t really like to meet w/o seeing pics…” Baby, he musta REALLY forgot bout me? I replied, “no problem. later man.” & that was pretty much all it took. He continued to message me, asking what I was looking for. I gave him my # (to the house phone of course; it's so much easier to ignore if I have to), 20 minutes later he was on the way. He didn’t stay far. So I straightened up, air freshened & vacuumed, & of course took a hoe bath (silly). He had trouble finding the place, which most people do for some reason. But by the time he stepped outta that [sports car] coupe (it was cute too) round 11pm, I was having second thoughts. I was even getting chills. Not that I got a bad vibe from him, it’s just that he was REALLY good looking…which for some very odd reason, intimidated me. & as we walked up the sidewalk to my place I felt like the night would end with me alone jacking off, as I had been doing the past two months.

He walked thru the front door, to my surprise as I had actually visualized him turning around & taking off running as we were walking. Though he was deathly afraid of my cat, Avery paid him no mind. It was me who was on pins & needles (what? I hadn’t done this since I first moved into the place). Forgetting exactly what to do first, I directed him into the bedroom & shut the door because I did not need Avery making him any more nervous than he probably already was. He made himself VERY comfortable across my bed. I sat on the edge (my groove was slowly coming back to me) & proceeded to do what I do best: interview my subject. & please don’t get it twisted because if it's one thing I HATE, it's needless small talk before a NSA (No Strings Attached) fuck. I explicitly know & understand the difference between a “fuck” & a potential “friend.” But homeboy was definitely leaning toward the latter off his looks alone. So we, well HE, talked & I listened & he seemed like a pretty cool brother.

As we lay listening to the slow jams on my computer I directed him to strip. He obliged & I did the same. We lay naked, side by side & continued the convo (his name was Jercorrian or Cori, he was 29 & living alone) & then he kissed me; soft, sweet. We talked more (he had just moved from east Texas, single, & attracted to me) our legs now intertwined & then I kissed him; playful, innocent. He rolled on top of me. We kissed and sucked each others lips, necks, & ears. He turned around, still on top of me but now facing the opposite direction. He inhaled me into his mouth so gently. His head game was tender, sensual like he was licking a popsicle. I then directed him to straddle my face & he damn near lost his mind. He was a talker (which is a BIG turn-on in my book; I hate it when they play dead) & he moaned & groaned until he couldn’t take nomore. He climbed off & for the first time that night he directed me, “I’m ready for that dick!” Now you KNOW he gots no argument from me.

He’s rubbin my body & breathing heavily while I’m in between his thighs, gazing into his eyes. He took me in with almost no effort & I began to stroke; slow, long. I started to bite on his neck & he screamed “don’t you mark me up!” I laughed...he sounded like me talking to Bruce (I'm sorry, I'm just not ready to begin the Bruce Saga with you yet). We continued on & he was an ANIMAL! Ecstatic shouts of “YES DADDY!” & “FUCK ME!” but the line that truly got me was “I’M COMIN BACK, BABY, I’MA BE BACK OVER HERE FOR SOME MORE!” Now to some, these are just meaningless rants. I mean when the sex is good hell, I done had dudes ask “BE MY BOYFRIEND?” & even scream “I LOVE YOU!” But for Cori to be feeding me these lines, as lonely & low as I had been feeling since becoming single in March; his empty words filled me. & honestly this was NOT even one of my best performances & it definitely wasn’t because of him. I mean staring at his body under the moonlight beaming through my window, that boy was a masterpiece from head to ankle (he kept his socks on). I just wasn’t fully feeling myself that night. Hell, I was only semi-erect the entire time. Though he made it clear online that he was “horny as hell,” the truth of the matter was that I wasn’t. All I wanted was the company of a man, to see the face & hear the voice of another man inside my empty ass apartment was my m.o.

He came while I was fuckin him, & you know that was my cue to pull out. I snatched off the rubber & oozed (not even a squirt, so sad). I immediately went to the bathroom to grab him some baby wipes & when I returned to the toilet to pee, I just stood there. Disappointed in myself & my performance, though it may have been just what m&m needed, I didn't feel a thing. He entered the bathroom behind me wearing nothing but briefs, he was even more beautiful in the light. After quickly getting dressed he said he “had to be up early for work…it was good, I’ll call you…” I walked him to the door & advised him that my house phone didn’t have caller id, or any features for that matter. He replied, “I’ll call & give you my # when I get home.” I simply smiled, “bye.” After locking the door I sat on the couch, & thought. There was no point in even keeping the phone by the bed. If he wanted me to have the number he would’ve given it to me at the door or in his car while he was driving I thought, “same ol’ dudes telling the same ol’ lies.” I went to bed…I never did hear that phone ring before I dozed off.

The next night when I got home from work, where did I find myself but on BGC (I swear, that shit is addictive), I had one new message. It was from Cori, sent 7:15am: “hey man. I enjoyed u last night, mu number is 214-***-****.”

REFERENCES

1. Cher (Alicia Silverstone) - Clueless; 1995

testimony: the truth about truth

2008-09-23T23:49:00.026-05:00

Ignorance really is bliss. For years I knew my grandparents truly HATED white people but, I would never have used the word prejudice & certainly not racist to describe either one of them. I mean, they just didn’t like white people (LOL). That was an example of my own ignorance. In my immature mind, minorities could never discriminate (but you'll read about that realization on a later date) & a black person could hardly ever be racist.

Around the age of 13 I began to keep a diary, my “journal” I called it. I filled it with all of my inner-most thoughts, desires, & my deepest darkest secrets. I kept it for years, until momma & gran(ma) got a hold of it one evening. I found them in a room filled with tears, just a shoutin' & a carryin on:

“WHAT YOU MEAN YOU GAY?” “YOU NOT GAY! ...we just need to pray about it, dat's all...”

To this day, that’s been one of the most memorable moments of my life. That night I was faced with the truth about my family's beliefs. The way they believed as far as certain people & certain things.

Now at the age of 24, my mother still sees me as damned because I love men, her reason being the old testament of King James I (of England) and his Holy Bible. Now maybe I could actually respect (not necessarily agree with) her point of view if she wasn't guilty of her own "abominations" (but this isn't her blog, so we're gonna leave that alone). I’ve often wondered if "Christians" ever take the time to actually read that magical manual they claim to live by? Or if they just pay attention to what Pastor Jenkins puts the most emphasis on every Sunday in his sermon while he's behind that podium, just a spittin’ & a shoutin & a carryin on…Pastor Jenkins who just so happened to be tryin to holler at one of my “girlz” (silly) the night before at the Metro…with his shirt off. The fact is, that based on James Charles Stuart & his old testament, I was damned from the time my mother conceived me.

All of this brings me to knowledge, which is even more satisfying than ignorance: knowing and not knowing; the real and the fake; but more specifically, truth and lies (girl LIES!).

“...truth...is in the eye of the beholder[1]." – Laurence J. Peter (1919 - 1990)

There was a time when a quote like this would have prompted me to immediately break out my dictionary to dispute that truth (like lies) is clearly defined. I would have declared that “truth is absolute,” or that “perception is in the eye…” I mean, how can there be room for interpretation between what is & what isn't? This of course was before I grasped the concept of what lawyers actually get paid HUNDREDS of thousands of dollars to do.

Orenthal James Simpson & Robert Kelly were both found not guilty by a group of their peers in a court of law. Despite the OVERWHELMING evidence + eyewitness testimonies, both these men were free to go & to return to their innocent lives. To this day neither has "confessed" to any crime. To this day both men are still celebrated by many as heroes; still worshipped & honored in their respective fields.

Truth is not necessarily defined by a holy book; nor can it always be justified in a court of law. The truth is, truth does not without a doubt equal fact. & fiction is not all false. Truth is whatever you believe; & it can most certainly differ from person to person. My truth is just that, my own. But whatever you decide your truth is, stand by it...you never know when you might have to testify.

REFERENCES

1. Laurence J. Peter - The Peter Principle (1969)