I’ve talked about my dating life at length on Dear Black Gay Men Podcast. For those who don’t follow the story (“Shame on you” in my Moira Rose voice), I’ll catch you up on the details.
Late in 2021, my ex, who we call “Joe”, called me asking to go to dinner. He didn’t give me any details on what he wanted, just that he wanted to meet up with me. In pure virgo fashion, I pulled out my freakum dress (Timbs and a fitted), did an extra set of push-ups in the parking lot to make sure the gurls were popping. Walked in a supped with my ex-beau.
We had a clarifying conversation. He told me what was on his heart about our relationship and how it had ended. I told him what was on my heart. For those details you have to listen to the podcast.
I thought it would be a one-off dinner and we’d go about our business. Then he texted me the next morning. Something about good morning texts from Joe still make me weak. Those 13 characters made me immediately realize that I still had some deep feelings for Joe and I owed it to myself to see them through to their end. So we continued.
What’s different this time
When Joe and I started the first time, admittedly so, I chased him. Therapy has helped me uncover that I wasn’t chasing him because I wanted to, nor was I chasing him because he needed to be chased. I was doing things, going out of my way, and breaking my back (and wallet) because I just wanted to be the best.
If he were to ever leave me, I wanted to make sure he felt that shit. There was so much spite and angst inside my very chivalrous acts that they couldn’t be sustainable. At some point, I was better–I treated him better, I gave him more–than anyone he’d ever dated. Once I reached that point, there was no reason to continue to activate.
Now, though, I have a new kind of clarity. Instead of wanting to be the best he has had, I want to be the best that I have had. Be the best me for myself, and he’ll enjoy the fruits of that. So instead of calling when I don’t want to talk, I have intentional conversations when I think of him. Or instead of trying to stay up all night because he’s a night owl, I give the best I got while I’m up, then I recharge for myself. For me, it’s a totally radical notion.
But I’m still the petty bitch from Dallas, so I said we not fucking until he asks me for a relationship. If you recall, I did the most to get into a relationship with him. Threw a party, did the sentimental shit because…well…insecurities (see above). I realize there is a deeper sense of self I’m uncovering in this process with him. But even that deep self is a petty bitch from Dallas. So now he has to create some pomp. He must give me some circumstance. And then I’ll give him some ambition (click the link, or you won’t get the joke).
What I learned from No-Nut November, December, and January
Sex really does differentiate friends from lovers. I talked to Michael Jonvier for VERS. Before we got into the interview, we talked about the big differences between friends and lovers. One thing that Michael and I agree on is that we don’t fuck our friends.
It’s weird, though, because Joe and I started our first relationship as a hyper-sexual coupling. Now that I’m making him wait, I find myself wanting him in so many other ways. I turn to him for conversation about my life. I lean on him for advice in ways I never had before. And I find myself more sensitive to his needs–not just sexually.
Making him (and me) wait, though, has made me hornier than a toad. I could hump a tree, cum harder than that White boy in Scary Movie, and be ready for round 7. Sex is becoming the dessert of our dating situation than it is the entrée. More importantly, I realizing that, even without the sex, we’re establishing something that is still very-much a loving, affirming connection. I’ll admit, I take particular offense to his jokes about condoms, or when he walks out the bathroom naked.
I think waiting is the way people said it was supposed to be. It makes new sense to me why our grandparents got married so quickly. Being close to Joe, but not inside Joe, will make a nigga run down the aisle. But I’m alright. Just leave me alone if you see my bedroom door closed.
I don’t know how long this wait will last. Maybe, as soon as we are official, we will jump each other’s bones. Maybe it’ll take longer? Maybe I won’t last until the appointed time. What matters most to me, though, is I don’t feel insufficient without hunching like I thought I would. Took me a lot of years of slutting ethically to get here, but I’m glad I arrived.