Never Lose Yourself

I’ve had my share of relationships, more like situations where I was giving a hell of a lot more than I was receiving. I was searching for love in all the wrong places … so cliché, but it fits the conundrum. You can’t make another person love you if you’re not a priority. I was too strung out on fairy tales … more like stoned off of relationship fallacies. I wanted a guy to fall in love with me … recognize my needs, fulfill my wants and desires, treat me like a natural-born princess, profess his love for me to the world, protect me, and provide a safe haven for my (once dilapidated) heart .

I used to buy gifts for these douchebags (cuddly teddy bears, flowers, clothes, watches, shoes, etc.), cook breakfast, lunch, and dinner (full course meals) for them, travel miles (before gas reached an all time high) just to spend quality time with them (South Carolina to the District of Columbia … South Carolina to Georgia … South Carolina to North Carolina … South Carolina to Florida … South Carolina to Some Other Unknown Far Away Small Town in the Carolinas), send messages of adoration, etc. My mind tried to warn me, but my heart wasn’t giving up on the fight between my love and his lust.

I recall praying and asking the Lord for His approval … I wanted Him to make the “douche” love me… make him/them adore me … want me. And when I assumed He didn’t hear my plea (my cry), I purchased a few self-help books (witchcraft and black magic) on casting spells. No judgement please! I wanted to create a love potion (Love Potion #9 on High-octane). I wanted to create a spell utilizing the whole Hocus Pocus … Abracadabra bull shit. And yes, I was serious. It was like I wanted to turn the toad into a prince.

Thank God I’ve matured and have gained ample wisdom to NOT do that craziness shit ever again in this lifetime or any other time in the present or future … even after reincarnation when I come back as a douche. Ha! Ha! Revenge is such sweet sorrow. Ok, Ok … I’m only kidding.

Looking back … I didn’t allow the man to be the man. I was doing enough for the both of us. I felt as if I was a hermaphrodite during explicit encounters … hell, I was basically f-bomb(ing) myself. I lost a part of me … all of me. I gave what little love I had for myself to someone who cared much less. My reflection had more of a masculine form … my femininity was robbed. I was a part of his/their existence, while my own was confined (When you become them and they were never a part of you). I lost a portion of me … Damn near all of me.

There’s something about that Amazing Grace … How sweet the sound … that saved a wretch like me .. I once was lost, but now I’ve been found … Was blind, but now I see.

Never lose yourself or allow another being to rob you of your existence. Never relinquish your instinctive power … Live for you and not through the reflection of another.

Say What Now

“Wait, run that by me again … you’ve never had an orgasm?” It is definitely a fact. Many women over the age of thirty never experienced the “orgasmic flow” … the “va-jay-jay that runneth over” … the “climactic rush” … the “pressure releaser” … the “spew of sweet nectar” … the “tears of the womb.”

Sorry fellas, some women have been faking the Big “O” (for quite some time) with eyes rolls (and you thought it was because you caused an orgasmic exorcism), with spasmodic –like episodes (and you thought you laid “it” down), and with a loud obnoxious moan (almost deafening). It was all just a show … a-not-so celebratory experience for her, but more of an explosion for him. Faking the Big “O” can be exhausting especially if the woman is not emotionally or mentally connected to her partner. For a small majority of women, an “orgasmic eruption” comes quite natural during intercourse or any other sexually generated act (damn, she was blessed with a golden glitter box).

Faking an orgasm comes natural for the other half of the female population. It’s like auditioning to play the role of the leading lady in a short film (“He Always Get His And I Never Get Mine”). Lights, Camera, Action! You lay there, he pulls it out … he climbs on top of you (wearing nothing but white socks) … he puts it in the wrong hole … you give him the “I know the hell you didn’t just try that shit” look … he struggles for a moment then finds the right hole … you moan and you groan … he huffs and he puffs … he whispers, “Do you like it?” … you lie, “Yes, now give it to me big daddy” … he goes faster, you scream his name (shouting every syllable) … he starts to perspire like he’s an olympian about to reach the finish line … you roll your eyes (hoping this shit is about to end) … he growls, he moans … he shakes, he rattles, and then he rolls over … you look at the clock hoping your telekinetic sense will move time backwards (you want ten minutes of your life back) … the END.

It is very pertinent that a woman knows her body, loves her body, and embraces the body she owns. Men must learn every inch of a woman’s body (Anatomy 101 is a great start). Know her turn-ons … her turn-offs (not just in a sexual sense). Mentally stimulate her with words of affection and declaration … more like a mental massage (could easily make her feen for your loving).

The Big “O” will be an even greater experience if both participants learn each other (e.g. his/her touch, his/her smell, his/her walk, and his/her vocal range during certain activities). It’s ok to think outside the bedroom … try something new, try something bold … be a rebel without a cause (just don’t get your ass arrested). Most importantly, experience the wild and crazy things  shit together.

Before I sound off, fellas, make her give dap (a fist pump) to the Lord himself (feed her mind, body, and soul). She will thank you and thank the Lord for blessing her with a modern-day superman (a man with telepathic and super-orgasmic powers).

Let’s Free the Flow!