It's been a few weeks and I think I just might be checking out of this emotional rehab pretty soon. Yay!!! Been reading some powerful shyt from the play For Colored Girls (not the movie - the play), and it's actually helping me with my withdrawal.
"My love is too beautiful to have thrown back on my face."
He was a drug. Morphine. Oxycontin. Each pelvic thrust he gave me was an injection of confusion mixed with desire into my body. His sweet words of "us" and "our future" had me skipping through poppy fields.
I was high on Pretty Brown. So very high.
My nose was open like Mario (that's a "Khaki-ism"). I was on Cloud Nine, with the operative word being "I". I thought he was on Cloud Nine with me, but his azz jumped off when I wasn't looking. I was there alone, and on my birthday that cloud disappeared right from under me. I came crashing down with my arms and legs flailing in wild confusion.
Silly me. But oddly this past Thanksgiving I gave thanks for meeting him. I was thankful for feeling soooo good about a man, and that I thought that I met somebody so fine, so funny, so smart. So I'll take it for what it was - even if it was for only fifteen minutes. I won't be angry or bitter about it. What the fluck for? Even if he set me up with alla that sweet talk, I'm not gonna be mad this time.
So I did some house cleaning:
His number. Deleted.
His text messages. Deleted.
His d*ck pic. Deleted. (why was that so hard to do?)
His email address. Blocked.
His business card with his smiling pic on it. Burned.
Now if I could just delete him from my mind I would be straight! In time. Next time you can't let these dudes get in your head so fast chick.
"My love is too Saturday Nite to have thrown back on my face."
Today is Saturday. Been watching porn just so I can get another image of d*ck in my head instead of his. Using my toy and dildo like three times a day (or more) to release any pent up sexual tensions. I watched some porn while using the toy this morning. OMG. I told myself that I have hit rock bottom. Giggle. It ain't no biggie though. Men brag about beating off all the time so why can't I? It's better than having some fool over here wasting my time. Last week I had THE WORST sex with this guy so I'm steering clear of niccas this holiday. Not even answering the phone when they call. F*ck alla y'all.
Soooo tomorrow I'm gonna get my toes done and then maybe get a tattoo. My first one! Should I get the words "Sexy MF" on my lower back? A black cat? A cute cat? A scorpion? A butterfly? Still thinking. I will feel like such a bad azz when I get it!!! The pain I expect from the tattoo might just clear my head.
"My love is too complicated to have thrown back on my face."
I see the therapist Monday. Debating whether or not I should mention about this guy or the married guy. That married guy is done. Over, over, over. We have zero connection and his sex rates a solid minus 2. Hell his fingers felt better and I give those a 7. That's pretty bad when your fingers do a better job than your d*ck.
Anyway, I'll be cool. I have a great love to give and it's his loss. One day God will send me someone to give my love to (hopefully). But in the meantime...life and love goes on.
And that's OFFICIALLY the last post I'm making about Pretty Brown.
Chuck-chuckin' up them deuces!
Oops that doesn't mean deuces....