What do you reckon it takes to fall in love with someone? I don’t know, I haven’t been in love for almost 14 years, and I think I’ve forgotten the emotion.
I’m so fucking picky. Why? It’s like something changed in me during that whole shit period when I was strung out over PHG (motherfucker, still!).
Something fundamental in the way I see myself and my relationships with men has changed.
I suppose I shouldn’t complain, because I’d been crying out inside for a change.
So as much as I say PHG is a motherfucker, the turth is, I really have him to thank for my self esteem where men are concerned now. You know, a definite idea of what the fuck I ain’t taking.
I don’t know what happened to me on Saturday night, but the ramifications are reverberating through my psyche.
I literally got tired of being in England and not tapping no quality penis.
Jammin’ J, who I have to admit is persistent and been a perfect (almost) gentleman, is not a bad fella. When we spoke for the first time in about two weeks last Friday, he was glad to hear from me. He said he knew I was busy, but he would like me to make some time for him over the weekend becaused he ‘needed to see me’.
I agreed and it was on for the self same Saturday night I mentioned a few blog posts earlier.
When we confirmed on Saturday night, I had reached this point where I was like, “How could it possibly hurt to take a little totie on the side?”
So I shaved my legs, made sure my place was tidy and creamed my skin. But when he got there, I don’t what it was I just didn’t want to go through with it. I think YMK has spoiled me and now it’s like I can’t brush unless I feel close to someone. It is too that I don’t have an atavistic attraction to the lad.
But there are others.
The guy at the ticket counter in Paddington, I haven’t seen again and he never called, but I have looked for him when I go to buy my tickets.
Then there’s this absolutely beautiful man who I saw on the bus to work from the train station a couple of days ago.
When I saw him, my insides rumbled and I went ‘I want that!’ But here’s the thing… he looks like a taller, more mature looking version of YMK. Same creamy dark skin, same beautiful eyes, same bald head.
I saw him yesterday as well, but he didn’t get on the bus. This morning I think I saw him, but can’t be sure.
I am definitely looking for someone, but I haven’t met or found him yet. I’m also not trying exceptionally hard to find what it is I am looking for.
That morning on the bus, I barely made eye contact with the dude, only stole looks at him. Here’s the thing: caught his ass doing it to me a couple of times.
Shucks, I just wish he’d get in the damn bus so I can eye him up some more.
With all these possibilities around, I’ve turned into a picky woman.
I want to take my time; I want to choose right, and anyone stepping forward has to play the game by my rules, because I’ve played by men’s rules a long time…. men don’t like you if you’re nice. Men only like you if you’re a little bitchy or a lot bitchy. They say they don’t but play the game any other way and you get fucked over by them.
Paritally, I’m sure this is about a ruthlessness I’ve been submerging in my consciousness… I make too many excuses, live with too many crafted illusions, accept too many reasons why I am not number one, why I am not worth risking all for.
I guess I just don’t want to do that anymore. It’s time for my game plan to change. It’s time for me to play like I want to win.