Tragic
I don't own the copyrights to this image but it's Mekhi Phifer looking stressed out and I feel that.
It’s been a while…but I’ve come back a little salty. I know that’s your favorite flavor.
I took a hiatus and while I don’t feel great about it, I do feel that it was needed. I try not to churn out pieces like a machine because if I put something out and my heart isn’t in it, then it’s not good for myself or the reader.
Anyways, I’m back to tell another tale of disappointment, learning and healing. It’s also about forgiving but not forgetting.
My latest tale of disappointment comes from my own expectations that were set by a man’s bragging about his sexual prowess. Siri, play “Tragic” by Jasmine Sullivan…
“When your dick is tragic. Who was lying when they told you it was all that? And we had it. Just another good laugh in our group chat…”
Anticipation can be a good thing and a bad thing. In my case, it was the latter. I started talking to this firefighter three years ago. We started talking on Tinder before I got into a 10-month relationship. At the time, he was just looking for sex. I wasn’t. I had been single for three years at that point and wanted to try to find someone to date. I did. It didn’t work out.
I continued chatting with the firefighter and he kept sending me dick pics because that’s romancing the ladies in the digital age. Is it a bad size? He’s definitely bigger than Small Hose. Although, I guess that’s a low bar. Before I continue, he also has a nickname — SUP. It stands for Smelly Uterus Poker, and it’s based on some colorful anecdotes he’s told me.
We kept making plans to try to hook up, even when I was in my last relationship. I’m not proud of it, but it happened. Ultimately my conscience got the best of me, and I waited until I was a month removed from my last relationship to have sex with him.
“You be talking all that mess and still can’t back it up. Good loving is more than fucking, sex just ain’t enough. Can you turn me on with no penetration? Engine running but don’t leave out the station. You be fumbling getting to the endzone. You drowning baby, cause you ain’t got no strokes…”
I was nervous about the hook up. As I was sitting on Interstate 5 North for one hour, I started to wonder if I was making a colossal mistake. I began thinking “What if he can’t do all of the dirty things he said he would? What if he can’t fuck? What if he’s a shitty human? What if I drove all of this way for nothing?” All of those questions would be answered within a couple of hours.
I got to SUP’s place. We were in his apartment for maybe a good 30 minutes before we started making out. We had sex that was over just as quickly as it began. He genuinely looked surprised at his premature ejaculation as if it’s not a regular occurrence. It’s fine when that happens as long as you’re trying to satisfy me in some other way or going for round two. Round two never happened. I wound up masturbating with some lackluster assistance from him. What happened to all of the shit you said you’d do to me, buster?!
To make matters worse, I was still awake and lying in bed with him while he was texting another girl. Yes, he was planning his next hook up in front of me after leaving me unsatisfied. The disrespect was real. If I hadn’t had any alcohol while I was there, I would have left. But I don’t drink and drive because I’m responsible and DUIs aren’t cheap.
“Now is it so damn hard for you to do your part? Woulda did this on my own. Coulda stayed my ass at home…”
The next morning, I hoped he would try to make up for leaving me unsatisfied. Do you think that happened? NO! We sipped coffee, watched South Park, looked at pictures of his dead cat and then I left. I’m sure while I was in the shower, he continued texting the girl he fucked after me. Hopefully, he made her drive worth it because he certainly wasted my gas and my time.
SUP texted me after and asked if I was mad at him. It took me a few days but I finally told him the truth after giving him one-word answers and sometimes just not even answering. When I told him how disrespected I felt by his actions, the apologies started flowing: “I’m so sorry, Nickole. That’s not me. I swear that’s not how I am…blah blah blah”. Bullshit. Apparently, that is how you are. And now that I know that, in the words of Congresswoman Auntie Maxine Waters: “What he failed to tell you was when you are on my time, I can reclaim it.” I am reclaiming my time and you sir will not get any of it in the future.