His "D" felt like love.
His body on top of me was the hug that I needed.
It was the way his hands were gripped on my back that assured me of my place in his life. His tongue explored my body the way eyes explore a road map. The way he would stop at his destination, zeroing in on the target with concentration let me know that I was his focus, his priority.
Sex with him was a 1992 Sade concert and a Too Live Crew music video morphed into one; a 360 experience. My body would erupt at the near sight of him. The anticipation was an orgasm of its own.
I knew then that he was dangerous.
Since my youth, I've always had trouble following directions. I've always had a mind of my own; never accepting the fact that sometimes my mind alone was inadequate. I thought I knew everything and no one knew more. So, when I met him, I ignored all the whispers. You know, the whispers you hear when you post his pic to IG with a corny caption you found off Google that seemingly sums up your relationship, "I don't care about your past, I want to be your future," or "Life began when I fell in love with you."
People were shocked and curious. They whispered, "How could she fall in love with a guy who's never truly loved anyone?" and, "She posted his pic? Doesn't she know he's everybody's man?"
He was known around town for having several women, sometimes at the same time. I was known as the "good" girl (sorta). So, the odds of me falling in love with a guy like that was supposed to be zero to none. I remember when I brought him around my friends for the first time, they had so many questions, mainly, "What the f*ck?"
Of course, in my mind, they were being irrational. My response was, "Y'all don't know him like I do," and "Support me."
It took me a few years after the relationship to realize that what I really meant to say was, "Y'all don't know his penis the way I do," and "Support my love for his penis despite the stupid shit it 'makes' me do."
I never understood the power of penis until I was introduced to his.
Now, I know some of you may be thinking that I'm crazy, but please hear me out.
First, it's important to understand that I am not trying to undermine true addiction. I'm fully aware that addiction of any kind is a serious matter. So, I phrase my experience by saying, no, I am not a sex addict or addicted to penis; however, I am a woman who came across a massive, beautiful and shiny set of "tools" that sent my world into a spiral. I fell in love (and delusion) with his penis, ignoring the man. I drew false parallels between his talent in the bedroom and the man that he was.
In the beginning, there was no doubt in my mind that it was true love. We had fun together, we were affectionate, I knew that he loved me, and that I loved him. Then, one day he asked to use my car. My response was immediate, "Of course baby, the keys are in the kitchen."
Fast forward two months and I was taking the train to and from work so that he could have the car during the day. Eventually, we moved in together. One night he asked, "Baby, can you buy me something to eat?"
Again, I didn't think twice before responding, "Sure, a #3 from Popeye's?"
Eventually, I was taking cash out the ATM for myself and giving him my debit card for the day. There I was, allowing a grown ass man to live with me (because I was the only one on the lease, which meant that I was the only one who was technically responsible for the rent) and drive my car while I took public transportation 7 days a week (and get this, I was paying for my own subway ticket), all while giving him a daily allowance.
It didn't dawn on me at the time that a real man WOULD NEVER or that a strong woman WOULDN'T ALLOW! I was caught up! It took a few more instances before I realized that there was a problem. After three years (judge your mom, not me), I finally walked away.
The irony in a lesson is that you're often both the teacher and the student.
I taught myself how to identify false positives and I learned that the way he treats my vagina is not always the way he will treat me. I taught myself the importance of falling in love with the man, not the orgasm. Further, I taught myself to never confuse the two; an orgasm is a feeling, not a commitment. I allowed myself to be played. Yes, he was wrong for the way he treated me, but ultimately the blame rests with me.
I'm the one who's responsible for my happiness. It's my job to require the respect and consideration that I deserve. I believe it was Nicki Minaj who said, "Had I accepted the pickle juice, I would be drinking pickle juice right now." In other words, you're treated how you allow yourself to be treated. We all go through some crazy things, it's inevitable; however, just make sure you grow through them as well.
Come out smarter and stronger than you were before.
Good D is the chocolate and caramel dessert you crave in the middle of the night.
You want it, sometimes you even yearn for it; however, before you indulge, consider the consequences. Settle for the sweet nectar of your fruit instead.
