Hard

Something that has been made clear—painfully so—is that when I feel something, I feel it hard.  When I’m happy, I’m really happy.  When I’m hurting, I feel like dying.  When I’m angry—it’s rage.   When I’m sad, I’m depressed.  All a result of my mild imbalance, but there all the same.  So when I love—I love hard. To a small group of loved ones, I am loyal to the core.  Need a piece of change; I got you.  Need a quick/fast/in a hurry babysitter; I’m there.  Need help with a beatdown; I’m rolling up my sleeves.  If you need me and you’re someone I love, there is nothing I won’t do for you.

I’ve said in previous posts that I regularly come across guys who—while nice—don’t move the thermostat.  There’s something so bland about the situation that I instantly forget it and move on.  It’s not that I don’t want a nice guy.  I need something more, something hard.

So I guess if and when I come across the right guy who moves my ‘stat, I’m sure I’ll know a few things:  He’ll be strong enough, loyal enough and hard enough to handle me.  He has to be; I can’t be bothered with anything less.  He won’t be someone I can walk over or ignore; nor I, he.  It’ll definitely be chess, not checkers.  It’ll be war, Mr. & Mrs. Smith style; just without the weapons.  We’ll probably come out of it heads (metaphorically) bloodied but unbowed…and tighter than a pair of skinny jeans on a fat girl.

I love hard.  He needs to do the same.  We’ll clash because we have so much in common.  Probably fight like Ike and Tina (except I’m not getting my ass beat.  Spanked is another thing entirely *wink* :D)  But then the makeup will be equally explosive; like Sid and Nancy (without the heroin).  I laugh hard; to the point of tears, hitches and belly-aches.  He needs to have that ability.  There is no length I won’t go to make him happy, and I expect reciprocity.  I deserve that.

I know couples who live a passionless life, and have been told that their love lives are fairly indifferent.  The lives of married people confuse me, but I digress.  I suppose because I run hot, I’m incapable of being in a dispassionate relationship.  This is perhaps the reason why none of my previous relationships lasted longer than six months.  I dated nice guys, good men, respectable men, but there was something anesthetizing about our connections.  Nothing got my blood up, and that was a problem.  That’s when the thermostat analogy first reared its head. 

Time has passed and I understand better the nature of my passion.  I can’t handle being with a guy that registers nothing more than lukewarm.  But at least I recognize it and won’t waste his or my time.  When I come across what appears to be interesting men, I’m paying all kinds of attention to see if the ‘stat moves.  It hasn’t happened yet, but I’m convinced it will.  I love hard, and I won’t settle for less.

I’m sure I’m not the only one.

Shortie: Slow Dance

A/N:  I’m feeling sleazy…

I wanted to turn around, drop to my knees and blow this sexy, sexy man to kingdom come.  I know my head game is tight and I wanted to do to him what he did to me.  As far as doing it in public, I was all out of fucks to give.  I didn’t care.  I wanted this man, but he held me close and wouldn’t let me turn.

I didn’t know what he looked like.  I didn’t even know his name.

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Untitled

"Black Love" by xoxolizsherron

you started this shit

i was aiight

mindin my own doin my thang

and here you come

blowin my mind doin what you do

bein who you be

fine as all get out sexy motherfuckin bastard

got me wet enough to wring water

nipples like rocks hot like the sun

you dont even look the part

you aint what i seen on my side

you say what i dream you know what i mean

you started this shit

"Black Love" by j9greer06

you the one who put it out there

you was the first to say what you said

i just replied told you what i saw what i thought

didnt think it meant anythin

didnt think you heard

didnt matter cause i thought it wouldnt last

you got in my head and moved into my mind

motherfucker you need to pay rent

i was aiight i was good

movin thru my days like drivin in my hood

calm as silence cool as dawn

then here you come

you started this shit

you showed yourself you showed your hand

you was up front bout where you stand

"Black Love" by electropussyshock

whats a sistah to do but respect

the magnificent might of the man

the realization of the fantasy

the answer to the question

the twitters twit who tweeted 

to the words you put down

i cant speak the words are in my throat

you smell so damn good

your eyes see me in me thru me

youre like my door tall and broad

built the way my man should be

like God used my special blueprints

stolen from my secret place

put you together muscle by muscle

"Black Love" by Darkboy

solid like a brick wall arms that hold up my world

i was aiight i was good

my life was peace

then here you come

you started this shit

i knew you was trouble

you the one momma warned me about

you the one my daddy woulda shot

you the one that broke me down

dont start nothin wont be nothin

but you started it finished it did it again and had an encore

and i could do nothin but let you

powerless to resist

didnt think any key could fit my lock

didnt believe i could let a man in

hearts hard for a reason weak women get broke

but you dispensed with that bull in one subtle choke

you held me and owned me and took it all

there was enough breath to say your name

and there was liquid evidence that did the same

no words needed we were beyond them

we laid and played and slayed and stayed

my poonanny got a dent and your dick got bent

hot sticky sweaty sexy funky

hair fucked up and makeup broke a world record

my neck bears the evidence of your mouth and hands

you know i cant hide it nor do i want to

scratches on your back bites on your shoulder

you didnt get out of this unscathed

i left my mark deep upon you

left my love all over your face

left my heat all over you

left my passion in scratches and nibbles

left you broken with nothing but my name

and here we are you and me me and you

you cant leave me and i wont leave you

i was aiight i was good

my world was just fine

rotatin and revolvin risin sun settin moon

sky as clear as my future

"Bonded" by Fred Matthews

and then here you come

fuckin thangs up 

makin me remember the best part of being a woman

you started this shit

every bit of this is your fault

you better want it and own it

cause you came lookin for it

i know you like it you love it

or you wouldna came after it

games aint played right here

you knew what was up

Learning to Love My Hair--Revisited

Almost two years ago, I did the Big Chop.  For those of you unfamiliar with the term, it means I cut all of the relaxer out of my hair so I could be completely natural.  It ended up being about nine inches’ worth of perm.  The resultant cut was a short, stylish combination of loose and tight spirals.  It was about an inch and a half in length and very easy to maintain.  Finding the right products to maintain and grow my nat…not so much.

I started out using Miss Jessie’s, but you practically need a loan application to purchase her products.  Then I moved on to Mixed Chicks, which claimed to loosen the curl and didn’t.  From there, I tried Jane Carter & Garnier Fructis, and then “Organic” Root Stimulator products.  With each iteration, my hair did something I liked and something I didn’t.  These products claimed to work for natural hair, and being naïve, I spent my hard-earned cash because I wanted my hair to “do right.”  Not really knowing what that meant.  

I’m not a fan of the ‘fro; I have a big head and I don’t think it looks good on me.  So I started twisting my hair using pomades and hoping that my curls would loosen and my hair would fall.  Instead, I had a curly afro.  The quest to find something—anything—to detangle the “kitchen” (aka the back of the head) led me to the Natural Hair Show in Atlanta.  Again I spent money and again, I was dissatisfied.  It was not easy being natural for me, but I was determined to find something that worked.  I couldn’t bear to put any more chemicals or heat on my hair. 

Then in October, after a week-long war with the nat, I said fuck it and got kinky twists.  At this time, Noob (who is also a nat), found out about Naptural85 on YouTube.  Naptural, an absolutely stunning beauty, makes her own hair products using over-the-counter supplies.  Noob tried Naptural’s Shea Butter Pomade and loved it.  So when I took my braids down, I made some of my own.  I spent about $20 on the oils (there are 5) and shea butter.

*cue angels singing*  REVELATION!!!!

The first time I tried the pomade on my hair, I saw immediate results.  First of all, my hair fell instead of ‘fro-ing up.  Two, the natural curl pattern actually showed itself.  Three, it felt fantastic on my scalp.  Four, it was made of nothing but truly natural ingredients.  When I went back and looked at the ingredients on all the other products I’d used, there was nothing organic or natural about any of it.  I couldn’t pronounce half of the compounds and I’m a baby chemist.  So using something as clean as Naptural’s Shea Butter Pomade in my nat was like giving my hair a colonic.

Then I went further and used two more of Naptural’s suggestions: apple cider vinegar pre-rinse and honey-mayo-egg conditioner.  Again, an instant difference in the texture and gloss.  I added banana and olive oil to the mix and this is what I’m currently using.  From there, I went on a quest to find an all-natural shampoo to supplement the conditioning.  Naptural recommended black soap…and that is what I currently use.

The shea butter soaks right into my scalp and gives it all the nutrients it needs.  The conditioners enhance the curl pattern and add body and gloss.  The black soap cleans it without killing it.  I twist my hair after liberal use of the pomade and my curls are loose and spirally.  It’s grown about two inches since I started making the shea butter in December of 2011.  My hair looks great and feels wonderful.  It doesn’t feel yucky or sticky and doesn’t ‘fro up.  I’ve gotten used to the fact that my hair is not neat; it sticks up in odd places regardless as to what I do.   It is what it is and I don’t fight it.  My next step is to make Naptural's flaxseed hair gel  (She also has marvelous suggestions on easy natural hair styles and maintenance).

A marvelous side benefit of all this is that I use the black soap as bathing soap and the shea butter as lotion and lip balm.  So when I’m done with my hair, I just move on down.  My skin tone is even and smooth, and my skin is soft and supple.  I no longer get ashy.  I have saved so much money!!!  Winning.

For those of you on the fence or struggling in transition, I highly recommend Naptural 85.  Everything she does is cheap and simple and requires just a little time.  When I make a batch of pomade using one container of shea butter, it lasts me about six weeks (and this is using it for my hair and as lotion).  It’s totally worth it.  My adventure with my natural has taken me places I didn’t think I could go; the main one being cognizant of what and how I eat, but that’s for another post.  

Me. Well, sort of...

So my sister-in-law came by and we played around with the camera:  

Sexy Things (6)

One of the things I love to do is walk around wearing next to nothing.  There’s a freedom in it that you can’t experience anywhere unless you live alone.  Or unless your boo is more than happy watching you express yourself in this fashion.  I’m a T-shirt and panties girl and I love moving about my house dressed thusly.  I’ve always purchased cute panties along with the standard practical ones, but last year I started indulging in really sexy panties.  Meaning I bought panties with elaborate designs and prints: zebra, leopard, black and red hearts, kisses, things of that nature.  Silk, satin, lace, nylon...you name it.  Of course, they’re more expensive than your standard cotton issue, but worth every dime.  The first time I put on a pair, it was love.  The feel of the material next to my secret skin, my lovely one, was undeniable fire.  It was definitely not a sensation I got with my old standbys.

My panty of preference is the boy short.  I love them.  They’re ridiculously comfortable and don’t bunch.  They conform to my curves and I always feel like they make my ass look rounder.  My second fave are the bikinis due to the cut.  Thongs are useful for those times when having a panty line is a faux pas, but I know some women who rock them regularly. I’m not a fan of the other styles; they just aren’t flattering for my shape.  You have to know what works for you so you can work it accordingly. I have my boy shorts in all colors, prints, fabrics and styles.  A white or black T-shirt or tank top goes well with any of them.

Women know that men fantasize about the panties they have on.  They also know that men fantasize about the specific contents of their special panty drawer, and may outright ask about it if they’re in the position to do so.  I don’t think I have to elucidate why this fascination exists.  But it does, and as far as I’m concerned, it’s completely justifiable.  If you’ve never experienced the wonder of wearing sexy panties, then you are missing out on an enlightening experience.  Try it at least once…

Pictured: Not my ass, but you get the idea.

Next up:  Skin