An “I am not right for you” Love Story
I’m going to give a disclaimer and say that my love is based on what some may not consider to be “Real Love” but I like to think that I fall in love with nontraditional things, in nontraditional ways, and how things or people make me feel.
I was sitting at the bar alone. It was my first time in this place by myself, but I was waiting on a guy friend, because this was his crowd and he invited me out.
That night, I must’ve stuck out like a sore thumb, because it was the only time that I got hit on the most. He was on the mic calling out for people to come closer to the stage. I’m enjoying my drink so I know he wasn’t talking to me, but he was. He said, “hey beautiful, at the bar, with the locs” I WAS MORTIFIED!!, because I hate the spotlight.
I waved him off, and when my friend got there we mixed and mingled with the crowd.
Out of no where, this deep ass voice whispers in my ear and I damn near melted. He wanted to know if this was my first time here, who I came with and if I was really into the performances, buh bih, he put a spell on me.
All I could do was smile, nod and give short answers. We later talked that night and went over things we had in common. I was IN LOVE with him, that night; it was his voice.
I started to go to AWL of the local shows that his peoples put on so I could see him, but I was sick around him. I couldn’t talk around him. I just wanted to smell his dreads, which always smelled the same and almost always damp like he had just washed them. I was STILL in love.
I attended a show on the one year anniversary of my grandmother’s death, I was looking bomb as fuck and as soon as he started talking to me, I welled up with tears. We went outside to talk where we could hear each other. The moon was out, and bright. He talked about the solar system, religion, and vinyl records with me and my pussy was like HE IS THE ONE!!
We exchanged numbers and I just…I started picturing my life with him. I wonder what his dick tasted like, what his skin tasted like and how he felt inside of me. EVERY TIME we talked it was for hours on end. He respected my opinion, loved my viewpoint, and became a true friend.
I brought up sex and moving things to another level and he said, “I’m not the road you want to travel” or some shit like that and my feelings were hurt. Not hurt because so felt rejected but hurt because I felt embarrassed. Later on through our friendship he explained where he was in life, the woman situation in his life and I was cool with his response, but I still wanted him though. He made me realize that CONVERSATION was a turn on for me. A conversation with substance, disagreements, and lots of logic.
I loved and was in love with not only how he dressed, his voice, and his locs but I was in love with how he made me feel. He made me feel like I was worth listening to, worth being around and worth being honest to.
…When I moved to Atl, our convos weren’t as frequent, but when we had them, they were still lengthy…I wanted him to leave Oklahoma so bad and use his talents elsewhere, but I know he won’t and that’s what kills me.
I still love him, I probably always will.