I have a fresh view of what I need a woman, my woman, to be. While this view is as incomplete as we were when we got together and set out to be what we have become. Our hearts are together always, though our bodies are far apart.

I remember you admonishing me for my gentleness with you. My goal was not ever to release but to hold on as long as I could.

Sometimes, it was just enough to lay inside you… My body on yours… My cheek to your breast. Coming up only for the nourishment I found on your lips. Looking into your eyes, beautiful though they were, reminded me that, then, you were mine… But only in that moment. I was never to hold you forever, like we talked about.

Soon we learned to treat each other as properly. Our hunger for each other fed and ultimately sated. You learned to nurture my love with the gentleness I needed to soothe my angers and aggression and give me a sense that my world was not as lonely as I had thought. You taught me to unleash my fury on you… After all, this is what you had wished for all along.

Gripping your throat, biting your lip… Your legs on my shoulders… penetration, now a series of quick introductions and slow exits… Hastening to the rhythm or our tandem heartbeats… Turning you over, reaching for my belt… Your long strawberry scented hair wrapped around my fingers… Wielding my thick leather strap as if it were a master’s brush painting your milky white canvas various degrees of red with every stroke.

Then finally, together, we let go… Our pains, suffering, frustrations, doubts… Laying together, your body wrapped in mine… The both of us trembling. I kiss your shoulder… The laughter starts. We laugh and laugh as we watch the light of Sun as it rises behind us on the wall… We begin to slowly drift off… Memories of the night that has just gone and hopes for the night to come.

Soon after that we were regular visitors in each other’s beds, multiple sessions per visit, rarely missing a day… Often cursing nature for interrupting our bonding.

I became intoxicated with you. Could never see a future without you. I still feel you here. Often you invade my dreams. Thoughts of your muscular legs around my thick trunk. Sweat glistening on your deep cocoa skin… Beads of sweat dripping off of my face and riding through the deep valley of your bosom.

The warm candy liqueur of your lips giving loaning me the courage to venture deeper in… inside you. Your scent heightening my desire. You throw your head back as your body reaches it’s limit and you exhale as you release…

You were so ready to give yourself to me completely. I couldn’t let that happen, I did not want either of our identities to be lost to the other. We were both trying so hard to define ourselves as individuals and set ourselves apart.

What if we did? I mean all those years ago, what would have happened? Who would we be if we got together and started building our lives for each other instead of for ourselves? So many years later, I still wonder. Still, I don’t regret my choices where you are concerned.

Some day maybe we’ll find some answers to all of those questions we had. Maybe you’ve found them with someone else already. As for me, I don’t know anything more than I did then except that you are better off than you would have been with me.

I have arrived at a new level of uncertainty recently. Nothing is as I had hoped it would right now. I had so many plans, now deferred indefinitely.

That is not to say I haven’t made any positive progress. I filled out all of my financial aid forms for the 2009-10 academic year. If I can find a decent paying job, I’ll take a couple of summer classes. I am waiting a couple of weeks to apply to the school, so I can try to get the application fee waived.

Shocking and possibly horrifying to some of you… I held my son’s brother. That is the right, better, way to think of him… Isn’t it? Well, my son asked me to be there for him. After swaying his view of the situation, I guess the obvious response is to alter my own opinions of that situation. I have to teach my son to be a better man than most and finally a better man than I am. There is no better way to do this than to be a better man myself. Still, I will not assume a paternal role, but I am open to the children of strangers, why not hers. Afterall, she did go half on my greatest achievement to date.

I have come to the realization that I have too many distractions. I have managed to disconnect and in some cases severed, completely, my extraneous inputs. I now have distractions for my distractions.

I am battling the lonelies and a bit of depression. I know I will not be right until everything else comes together. I am trying, I realize that I haven’t put my all in. Find myself feeling sorry for myself. I know I can and will do better. Let’s see where I go with this.

I decided do the 40 days, 40 nights deal during Lent, which actually comes out to 46 days and nights. Some wondered why, being that I am not religious, would I engage in a period of self-denial, especially during this specific time?

Short answer… Self-discipline. Why during this time? Simply because it’s a specific period of time. I don’t have to think about the number of days aside from when I decided to do it and it’s clearly marked on the calendar by it’s beginning Ash Wednesday and it’s ending Easter. There are little visual cues on those days that let me know when to begin and when my penance is over.

Overall, it wasn’t too difficult. Had to get creative with some stuff, had to revisit some old ways and tried a couple of new things.

I gave up red meat, all added sugar and sex. Giving up sugar wasn’t that hard. I didn’t allow myself any candy or other sweets like cookies, cake, donuts… I could not sweeten any drinks I may have had such as tea or coffee. I did have sugar in juice and some drinks that just had it in there.

Sex was a whole other thing. I haven’t had sex since January. The problem is, when you consciously give it up, you have to either say “No” or avoid situations where it will be too difficult to resist a taste. I wasn’t having it in any way during my time of sacrifice. No self-pleasure, no friend, no receiving, no giving, no fingering, no… well you get it. It was so hard, no pun intended, waking up with my hand in my boxers most days.

Anyway, I made it through, well almost… Two more days to go.

On the job front, I have gotten some calls which in the end yielded no results. This week, I missed an opportunity because I haven’t been checking my mail. I have just been out of it the last couple of weeks.

A few weeks ago, I lost a couple of friends in a car accident. Then there is Sunshine, who is convinced that my life is what it is because she is a part of it. She thinks she is bad luck for me. I love her. She is one of my closest, oldest, dearest friends.

Anyway, I wanted to keep this as short as possible. I will do another update later today or some time before the weekend is out. I hope you are all well.

I did not have the easiest of childhoods. Most of us didn’t. I can remember going across the street to my paternal Grandmother’s, where my only aunt would crack the door with chain behind it only to say to me “We ain’t got nothing for you,” then close the door and I’d take the steps down and come home. It was like this every year.

I never really had any gifts and even when I did, they weren’t under a tree, wrapped up, as is supposed to be the custom. I started to get gifts more regularly when I started hustling in school and could buy my own.

Lunch tickets were my thing. The better to do kids were always willing to pay half to two-thirds price for a full price ticket. It worked for me. After all I hated school lunch. The goodies to be had after school from funds made and / or saved were what we wanted.

My self purchased gifts were usually He-Man or G.I. Joe action figures and vehicles. Sometimes, I’d even wrap them up and pretend. I had to remember to save up enough to get at least one pair of sneakers, jeans and shirt that I could run for a little while or get made fun of.

I grew up hating this time of year. Wasted a lot of time crying about what I wish my life had been or could be.

As I got older, things never really got better. The holidays are marked, for me, by major losses… Loss of friends, jobs, reminders of what the holidays used to be for me and finally deaths of many of the few I have allowed to get close.

I have come to realize that I have been deprived. At first, by others… Later, by myself. I had become a Grinch. My heart withering and cold… I realized that I wasn’t alone so much as I was keeping to myself.

Today, I am proud to say that I am no longer that Grinch. I am not sad this year. I don’t have much, but this year I will do the best I can for my son. I always make sure he has but the last couple of years have been extra rough, for the both of us.

On the first day… The Grinch is no more and I can count this among my triumphs.

I finally had to tell him that the reason I have not been inviting her out with and distancing myself from her for the last couple of years is because his grandmother told me to stay away from her and that the girls were not to hang out with me anymore.

All of this came as a result of all the secrecy and stupidity behind my son mother’s relationship with my cousin. I am sure most can understand how I felt about that situation. It wasn’t about me. I told her then her bottom could drop out and I wouldn’t care. It made my son uncomfortable on many levels. He wasn’t the only one though. The girls weren’t happy with the situation either. They confided this in me. Their mother completely abandoned them for him.

What other choice did I have? Should I have just let it go? Should I have been talking about her behind her back? I thought the best thing to do was to talk to her about it. Like everything else, she took it as an attack. She went campaigning against me. Telling everyone that I am going around talking about her and bashing her and so on. Aside from venting to my friends or in these lines, I have nothing to say about her… good or bad, not to my son or her friends.

My dealings with her came to an end when I finally told that I was tired. Tired of bailing her out. Tired of trying to protect a family that isn’t mine to defend. Tired of trying to do good and being made out to be the bad guy. I don’t want to hear about you being depressed, don’t ask me for money, I don’t care.

After the conversation and making sure he got in alright, I tried to do the right, responsible thing. So I called her to warn her that he may have questions or he may be upset with her. It also occurred to me that she might not have been privy to the conversation I had with her mother. I didn’t want her to be caught off guard and I didn’t want the information that I passed along to him to get confused.

The first thing that came out of her mouth was Why didn’t you come in? Followed by I wanted to ask you if you had any money. I answered I didn’t want to and no, respectively. I went on to tell her what I told him which led to a deeper conversation about why she and I don’t talk or more specifically why I don’t talk to her. I don’t call her for her birthday or for holidays. I just don’t desire that sort of relationship with her anymore. I mean I tried. I tried for the three years before he was conceived and the thirteen afterwards. I have been a part of her daughter’s life for sixteen years. As hard as it is for me to walk away, I feel it’s for the best.

During the conversation, her cheating on me the whole time we were together came up because she is convinced that I was cheating too. I have never cheated on anyone. She bought up people she knew were interested in me in the past, but really what does that have to do with me. What does it have to do with you not being able to keep your legs closed or as my grandmother would say possessing light feet.

She wanted to talk about her friend Lisa, who is also her daughter’s aunt (?) at the time used to follow me around like a puppy and who I used to talk on the phone about her daughter who has the hugest beautiful brown eyes. I wasn’t with her. This was in ’03 or 04, she and I weren’t together. She heard a voicemail and got upset. The voicemail was all about the little girl. I wasn’t even interested in Lisa then. She looked like a crack head. Now she could get it though, but I don’t talk to her anymore. Her reaction was stupid. She lied about the call. She said she didn’t even know how I got her number. Funny thing is, she was one of the friends telling me how urgent it was for me to get my son away from her because of the things she witnessed.

I am hoping the conversation made things clear to her and she knows exactly how things are between us. I don’t want to know about her or her baby or anything else outside of Deon. If the girls need anything, they know how to ask. I will not turn my back on them. I will not however be as active in their lives as I once was.

I grew up without her. I was made ward of state when I was seven. Later, custody of my sister and I was given to my grandmother. My mother was a drug addict. As is, usually, the case with any fiend, her habits were more important than her family. She was still around though. I did grow up in my maternal grandmother’s home, after all. I witnessed so many things, I wish I hadn’t. Some of the destruction caused is still evident here.

Recently, it would seem that my mother and I were working on some sort of relationship. She is greedy and has never really worked for what she has. She has been on some sort of public aid for most of her life. She never understood that waiting for a check was never good enough for me or just some job. Things were OK as long as I had money. At the beginning of the year, she threw me and my son out. This hurts a lot because I made the decision to stay with her because I thought it would help all of us. I had some bills to pay off, so did she. I ended up paying for everything. Cost me more than it would have to be in my own place. I had just run out of money. She didn’t even give any notice. She went further, to throw out all of my dress clothes, so for a time I couldn’t even go on interviews.

Right now, my brothers can’t wait to get away from her. Her greed is overwhelming. Always has her hand out and ready to tell you what to do with your money. She even has the oldest of my two brothers paying a bill that doesn’t exist.

As for the father, he wasn’t around. His current wife wanted me to be a part of their family. The first Christmas I remember getting a gift from him was the year I met her. Prior to that, I would get I am not going to lie to you. I forgot your birthday. I was closer to her than I had ever been to him. I am sure she is the reason why my half sister knows who I am and knows enough about me to love me.

I realize I have been very fortunate. I had friends who grew up similarly, some aren’t here to tell their stories. I am just afraid that my son will have the same type of relationship with his mother.

Lil’ Deon was with me. This was the first time he had met the man. The last time he saw Lil’ Deon, he was about three. My son has an uncle and and aunt he has never met. Aaliyah, his aunt, is a year or two younger than him. I have another sister. She just turned four or five that neither of us have met. I am not even sure anyone is aware that I know about her.

The paternal unit wanted to act as though he had been a father to me and was actually concerned about me or my son. He hasn’t tried to contact me in all the years I haven’t seen him. My grandmother’s number hasn’t changed in like 15 years. I am still in contact with cousins, my grandmother and so on. I even found my little brother and sister on MySpace. He knew they were in contact with me.

To give you a little history, I stopped talking to him because he wanted a paternity test to get out of back child support. That wasn’t what offended me. He went further, in order to justify his position, to suggest that I get tested for my son as well. My son had just turned five. What the fuck do I need to get tested after all that time for? He and I had both already bonded. Why put him through the bullshit and for that matter myself?

I did not introduce him to my son. I just don’t see the point in the inclusion of absent people in my son’s life. So as we walked off, Lil’ asked, “That is your father?” I am sure he will have more questions eventually and I will be ready to answer truthfully as always. He has the right to know.

The truth is… I am his father, he is my son and there was nothing else that I needed to know.

My only hope is that this could be an opening to reconnect with my brother and sisters. Especially, Aaliyah. I know even though she hasn’t grown up around me, she loves me. She made that very clear.

This past week, I was in testing much of the week. The two that I am particularly concerned with are the MS Word/Excel and Powerpoint tests. I am a bit rusty since I haven’t done any completely native work in the last 2 or so years in MS Office. Turns out I am not that rusty at all. I was told at 1st glance, my tests were about 7, 7+ out of 8, respectively.

Recently, I have a been getting to spend a bit more time with Minimee. I realize he has been reaching out to me, but because I have been down I have been kinda hiding. I just realize that although he might be a stoic like me sometimes, he needs me as much as I need him. We tend to buffer each other’s concerns. So I have made it a point to have lunch with him everyday after school, so we can talk, get some of the stuff that is bother us out. I like to keep him informed of what’s going on with me. I don’t want him thinking I have given up on him.

Seems my feelings got worse. I am typing from my written copy then I’m going back and making these comments. It turns out since I am only reading as I type, my memory is being jogged. I am remembering the times she cheated on me and wondering why I dealt with it for so long. I guess in the beginning it didn’t matter and as time went on it just wasn’t worth it.

She always says I can only bring up one person, but she admitted others to me after trying to hide it. The fact is, I have never cheated on anyone and never will.

I’m feeling it. What I thought would be is not and what I could never imagine is. She’s been gone since Friday. At 1st I was melancholy. She did not call me. Perhaps that’s what set the ball in play. I guess she doesn’t miss me after all, so why should I miss her.

I’ll not speculate. But if something did happen I hope she doesn’t hide it from me or, better yet, I can see for myself. I won’t deny I love her. I will retract however, I can live w/o her.

Everything is 4 my personal ascent & 4 my sons well–being. Someday I will be able to break loves spell and move on.

Can’t knock the way a nigga eating.
Feel my triumph, never, Feel my pain, you lying.
Live out my dreams till my heart get found.
Fuck ‘em 4 hatin’ a nigga lovin’ his life. [sic]

[From dramatizations: Mother's day – Sunday, 10 May 1998]

Now this Mother’s Day, she is likely expecting a call or some sort of communication from me. Truth is I don’t speak to her. When she talks to me, I try to limit my answers to five words or less. For my son it’s worse, he is silent most of the time. I have to make him respond appropriately.

I have never felt she was much of a mother. People who know what I have gone through have been sending me Mother’s Day wishes all day. It’s just a matter of time before my son calls to wish me the same. He did last year.

My son’s mother is pregnant. While that by itself is no big deal. Her baby was fathered by my cousin, my son’s cousin. What kind of mother would put her children through something as emotional as that?

Twitter – I Don’t Want a Cousin, originally uploaded by Dramatic. Minimee and I were talking at Parkside Restaurant on Flatbush Avenue about the instant message from the day before: Please Stop Her!

Uploaded with plasq‘s Skitch

Sometimes, I if I might be wrong. Maybe I am being too harsh. Maybe Minimee is picking up my disdain for her. Then again, up until two years ago, it seemed things were alright then my son took it upon himself to move out. He packed his little stuff a bit at a time and moved in with me. Small things like getting him to call her, just to say “Hi!” became a challenge. He would burst into tears. As much as I can’t stand her, trying to make sure my son has a relationship with his mother is important to me… because it is the right thing.