Malik was supposed to be my husband and for the longest time I couldn’t wait until the day that I became Mrs. Malik Shaw. And I’m not going to fake it I have yet to meet a man that comes anywhere close to making me feel the way Malik did in the bedroom. I often wonder how things might have turned out if Jennifer hadn’t interfered. Then I get upset with myself for allowing to him cross my mind in the first place. Lena jokes that I’m not over Malik. She claims that’s why it’s hard for any man other than him to keep my attention for longer than ten minutes. I don’t think that’s what it is at all. Now, I admit that part of the reason that I haven’t been able to fully commit to a man is because I don’t trust them. I fault Malik for that. Most men will pass my trust issues off as some type of insecurity and that definitely is not my problem. My biggest regret is, not accepting any of Malik’s phone calls after I’d caught him and Jennifer humping like two little rabbits. Not because I would have reconciled our relationship but because I need closure. And since I haven’t spoken to him since that day, I’ve asked myself for years, what did Jennifer do that I couldn’t do? What wasn’t I doing enough of? Was she better in bed? Was she a better listener? Did he find her more attractive? What was it about her that made him humiliate me and hurt me so bad? Any man with eyes could see that Jennifer was beautiful but, hell, so am I.
For a woman I’m tall, about one hundred and sixty pounds, and I flaunt my 34, 25, 40 inch silhouette like I own the world. Men just love the smooth baby-like texture of my mocha skin. They always say that I’m cute to be a dark-skinned woman, which pisses me off... because, what in the hell is that supposed to mean? As if dark skinned women aren’t usually cute. Shit, I’ve seen some unattractive fair-skinned women. Well anyway, normally I have a million little braided extensions in my head but for the past two months are so I’ve been wearing my hair in a wrap. When I took the last set of extensions out, my hair had grown just a little below my shoulders, so I had my stylist give me a relaxer and trim the split ends. It was different, and I didn’t like it at first. But now I think it’s growing on me.
Sometimes I worry that I’ll never meet Mr. Right, that I’ll never be someone’s mom, that I’ll never say, “I do”, and that I’ll end up old and lonely. Lord knows that I don’t want that. But the reality is this, most men my age are taken, and the one’s that aren’t taken are single because they just want to have fun and are too afraid to fully commit themselves to a woman, or gay, or they’re divorced and too scared to get married again and risk going through the entire tussle of who walks away with what all over again. And I really can’t say that I blame them. The Man that I end up with is definitely going to sign a prenuptial agreement. I’ve worked too hard to have some man walk away with half of everything that I’ve worked my ass off for. Brandi says I’m already wishing negativity on a relationship that I don’t have yet. Again I don’t think that’s what I’m doing at all. I just believe that what’s mines is mines and what’s his is his. And nine times out of ten if he has his own he’s not too concerned about walking away with any of my assets. Which is another reason why the man that I even consider myself sharing a future with has to already be established when we meet. In my opinion if a man isn’t established by the time he reaches his thirties, what on earth could he possibly add to my life? I’ll be damned if I let a man enter my life that doesn’t have a pot to piss in or a window to throw out! At what cost to me? The last thing that I need is for a man to destroy my credit, exceed my credit card bills, and send me sailing up Shit Creek. The next thing you know I’ll be trying to sell my condo, trade in my car for something less expensive, or even worse filing bankruptcy. Hell, I want a man badly! But I will never want a man that damn bad! Some women will settle and accept any man as long as he pipes her good. Not Stacy! Dick is not that good. My girlfriends joke that I should never say never because if the right man comes along with the right size dick, I may forget all about my standards.
I almost forgot one very important little detail. The man that’s for me definitely has to be honest, because I don’t want a pathological liar. I’ve dealt with enough of those. Finding a man that meets all my standards is man enough to provide all my needs, and fulfill all of my desires has been challenging. I’m starting to doubt that Mr. Right exists. And if he does, why haven’t I met him yet? Until he shows up I’ll continue to smother myself with my career. Which is another problem in itself. It’s hard being a black woman in the corporate world. I always feel like I have to prove myself. Why can’t we be treated equally? For the last three years I’ve been told that I’m going to make partner. Each year just ends up being another disappointment, although I have earned it. My family thinks that I’m a train wreck waiting to happen even though I tell them otherwise.
I don’t enjoy pretending that I’m okay being single. Who am I kidding? Those manila file folders that are filled with detailed client information can’t hold me and keep me warm at night. I’m ready to be held, and get foot rubs after a long tiresome day of work, and cook dinner for someone other than myself, and have orgasms that are so intense they make me weak and I don’t want to do anything but roll over and go to sleep after a love making session. I want to hear myself coo until my throat aches. “Shit” I don’t want to be able to feel my legs when he’s done.
“There are several men that approach you” My girlfriends love to say. They think that it’s my fault that I’m single. Sure men come on to me! Why wouldn’t they? But it’s always something about them that irks me, either they talk too much and think that they know everything and isn’t interested in anything that anyone else thinks or has to say besides themselves, they’re arrogant and think that the world revolves around them and that they’re God’s gift to women, they’re just plain boring and doesn’t like to do anything but lounge around and watch ESPN, or they do everything that you’ve always wanted a man to do but can’t fuck. When this happens I simply just stop accepting their phone calls. Hell, I’m lonely not desperate and stupid.
I do want kids before I’m too old to have any, which means that I better get the ball rolling before it’s too late and I end up being a childless, single, fifty year old woman with everything that I want except a husband and children to share it with.
Married women are always saying that they wish they could trade their lives with me, because I’m single with no kids and no husband, and I don’t have to worry about cooking dinner if I don’t want to, attending parent teacher conferences even when I’m tired, or hear complaints about my husband saying that I’m not spreading my legs enough. Hell, I want to spread my legs for someone that I’m in love with. The problem is most women that complain about the responsibilities and duties that come along with marriage didn’t want to become a wife they only wanted a wedding, there is a difference. I want the whole nine yards. I’m tired of having occasional sex.
I assumed that I would be married by now with a kid or at least one on the way. I’ve fantasized about carpooling, and little league sports, and ballet classes, and a family house with a big back yard, and peeping through the mini blinds watching my husband push the kids on the swing as I prepare his favorite meal, and tying his tie for church, and kissing the kids before they head to the school bus, and going away on family trips, and anniversary trips, and throwing anniversary parties. Reality hits me every time that I’m in a department store and I find myself spending countless minutes in the baby section browsing through clothes, and toys, and smelling the scent of the fresh diapers. Which makes me want a family even more. So I toss every cute little sweater, and pair of shoes, and toy into the shopping cart and end up leaving with way more stuff than I intended to. But it’s worth it because my niece just loves getting UPS packages from Auntie Stacy. I need some advice. And who better to get some advice from than a man himself. So that’s why I have a date with Steve Harvey’s number one New York Times bestselling book Act Like A Lady Think Like A Man. It’s a Friday afternoon and I have absolutely nothing to do so I guess I’ll read.
I’ve just finished reading Chapter twelve and I must admit this book is very interesting. I just can’t put it down. “Strong independent and Lonely women, hmmm.... sounds interesting!” I say aloud as I scan the title of chapter thirteen. I then glance at my vibrating cellular that’s buzzing on the ottoman. It’s Lena.
“Hey girl”
“Hi Lena”
“How are you and how’s Layla?”
“I’m great and Layla is not here she went down to Alabama she’ll be back in a few weeks”
Oh, who’s Layla? How could I forget to mention her! Layla is my baby sister. She’s two years younger than me. And she’s been living with me since she was diagnosed with HIV almost three years ago. She moved in with our parents shortly after her diagnosis and they acted as though if she were to simply look at them to long she could infect them. That’s when I stepped in and insisted that she relocate to Chicago. When someone that’s very close to you contracts HIV it opens your eyes and makes you realize how careless you may have been. You also realize that the Aids/HIV epidemic has nobody’s name on it and that it can happen to anyone.
“So how was it? Lena asks. “Was it good?
“Was what good?”
“Kelvin, I thought you were going to give him some”
“Girl please! If it was good I would have called you by now” I say. “It was horrible.”
“What was so horrible about it? Let me guess he’s a two pumps and he’s done kind of brother?”
“Honey I didn’t give his ass the chance to come. My pinky put his penis to shame”
Lena’s laughing. “Well as many men that you’ve cut loose, you shouldn’t mind downsizing by now.” She jokes. “You could’ve at least given him the chance to show you what he could do with his little toddler penis.”
“I’ll tell you what he can’t do.” I said. “He can’t satisfy me and that’s why I sent his behind home.”
“Now, that’s just cold Stacy”
“It wasn’t cold in my opinion. You haven’t dealt with his bragging behind only to find out that it was all bullshit. All that bragging he did saying things like I’m going to give it to you so good you’re never going to want me to leave. And I haven’t even told you the weird the part!”
“Which is what?”
“The first turn off was the fact that when he rubbed his feet against my leg I didn’t know if he was trying to start a barn fire are seduce me. His feet felt like rocks scraping against my skin and then when I kneeled down to hand him his clothes I noticed that his ass was wearing some leopard thongs. First of all, what real man wears thongs? And leopard printed ones at that! Girl you know that definitely turned me off”
“Girl, no he did not have on a pair of thongs.” Lena says in between laughs. “I don’t blame you I would’ve given his ass the boot too. But you’ve got to realize that sex is not everything. You’ll let a perfectly good man get away because he wasn’t blessed with a dick the size of a horse. It’s not a man’s fault that he’s not working with anything. You act as though a man can walk into the convenience store and say to the cashier…Yeah let me have a box of magnum condemns and a big dick too.” Lena giggles.
“It’s not my fault either. And I didn’t say he has to have a dick the size of a horse, but I do want to feel it. Sex is a very essential factor in maintaining a healthy relationship. Hell, in my opinion it’s the damn foundation. If a man can’t satisfy his woman that’s a recipe for disaster because she’s going to be tempted to cheat during their entire relationship.”
“Helfa, sex is not the foundation of a relationship, finances are.”
“Don’t misunderstand me, finances are definitely important but so is sex” I say. “There are plenty of women that have husbands that can provide for them financially but not physically which is the reason why there are a lot of cheating women walking around here.”
“Well I know that I’m not going to win an argument with you on this subject. So I give up. But please know that I’m telling you as a friend that you need to lower your damn standards.”
“You act like my failed relationships are my fault”
“Well who else’s fault is it?” Lena’s laughing again. “Look at how you dumped Bernard out of the blue. He was charming, and had his own money, and according to you he was magnificent in bed.”
“Bernard was missing a few screws. And the only reason that he is successful is because the hotel business that he owns was passed down to him. It’s not like he’s worked hard and established success on his own. The man wanted to sell the Hotel and start an ice cream truck business. Now how foolish is that? How much money can an ice cream truck business possibly gross?”
Now Lena’s cracking up. “Well I heard on the radio not that long ago that some guy grossed one hundred thousand dollars in hot dog sales.”
“I mean really Lena, what kind of business venture is that?”
“Well at least Bernard had goals” she jokes.
“Yeh goals that would eventually have him standing on the side of the road holding a sign that says I’ll work for food.”
“You are too much Stacy! When are you coming to the A to visit“
“I’m working on that now. Maybe I’ll be on a plane to Hotlanta sooner than you think. Hell, maybe I’ll even meet Mr. Right there”
“I would have my fingers crossed if I were you. Atlanta’s swarming with homosexuals and undercover brothers. You’d be surprised how many married men around here or playing on both sides of the fence.”
“Girlfriend that’s not only in Atlanta. That’s everywhere. That’s what scares me about being single and having to actually date a few guys in order to meet the right man. You just never know who’s bisexual these days. I don’t understand why a man would rather risk an innocent woman’s health before he’s honest about his sexuality. If you’re gay then be proud of it. Don’t pretend that you’re straight and mess up someone’s life. If that was to happen to me, there is no telling what I’m bound to do.”
“Girl ain’t that the truth!”
“I’ve come to the realization that there are six different categories of men.”
“Oh lord the manless woman that happens to know everything about men.” Lena said sarcastically.
“I’m serious. I’ve been dating long enough to know all the different types.”
“School me then” Lena said.
“The first category is the DLB’s, the (down low brothers) now I can’t elaborate on that category because as far as I know I’ve never dated a man that’s bisexual and hopefully I never will. Next it’s the settlers. These are the type of men that are afraid of taking risk. So they’re stuck with careers that they hate because they are afraid of failing. They really don’t believe in themselves. They’re usually easy going and can easily be bossed around. In my opinion these type of men are not man enough for a woman like me.”
“Bernard wasn’t afraid to take a risk and look what happened with him”
“Well his business venture was a dumb risk to take. Now hush and let me finish”
“Go ahead Stacy”
“Then there are the cowards. The type of man that pretends that he’s the toughest man in the world, so you’re shocked when you learn that he’s actually a wimp and won’t burst a damn grape. Girlfriend these type of men are afraid of heights, and snakes, and mice, and even insects. Now explain to me, how in the hell he’s supposed to protect you if he’s scared to kill a damn spider?” Lena and I both laugh. “Then there are the jackass’s. Now Jackass’s are usually charming with big dicks and success. They think that they know every goddamn thing, which makes them horrible listeners. They’re self-centered and think that everything has to go their way. They’re cocky and act like their shit doesn’t stink. And last are the Phony’s. Now the phonies will trick you. They pretend to have it all. The nice car, the successful career, the extravagant home, A-one credit and the whole nine yards. Then after a few dates you learn that hi
s car is in his mother’s name, the house belongs to his brother, and he’s living with him and not the other way around, and although he works at a fortune five hundred company he works in the damn mailroom. And then there is Mr. Right the closest that you’ll ever get to having the perfect man.”
Unfaithful Ties Page 5