this is NOT a test

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

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

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

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

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

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

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?"