It's on Record (Part II)

It’s always the same, first you hide your face and giggle like a little school-girl, and then you throw things at me telling me to “turn it off”. After that, you try to pretend like its not even there, and then I play right along. Suddenly you fall in love with the lens and then you can’t stop staring into it. If the timing is right, you do amazing things for the lens that you’d normally never do without it. What is this phenomenon?

I swear I don’t understand you at all. You’re the most complicated creation on earth, you know that? I really had to learn the hard way that “no” really does mean “yes” sometimes. Trying to figure out when those times are ain’t easy at all. I admit, I kind of feel guilty from time to time ignoring a blatant “no”, but shouldn’t it have turned out bad with a rejection? You played right along anyway, so I guess you meant yes?

I pray the day never comes when you say no and really mean it, if that day comes; I might never recovery from the guilt. I just want to have a good time, and I want you to be a part of it. I hate having to drag you to places all the time, you seem to enjoy yourself once you get there, so what’s the problem? Are you determined to be a boring person? Is your phunometer broken? Why is it you can’t simply be where you say you’ll be? Should I even bother calling you when I wonder where you are, it’s not like you’ll answer.

I have to be honest with you; this is getting quite bothersome my dear. Having to force you into having a good time is becoming very old. It’s only when I watch you on film am I convinced you are more fun then I give you credit for, but these moments are few. I smile when you smile at me, but I have to realize you are smiling at the camera, no me. It’s not so special anymore. It was you I cared about a long time ago, I really did, but you didn’t like to come out and play with me as much as I did you.

So now, all I care about is the girl on film. She is everything I wanted, everything I hoped you would be, but you and she are not the same. Beyonce understands; she even made a song about it. I’ve never been a fan of Beyonce until that very day, but I admit I loved her as “Foxy Cleopatra” in Gold Member. What am I saying? She knows, as much as I don’t truly care for her music, I do appreciate that she truly understands “me”? It was always about you, but you made it about “you”. Still don’t get it huh?

Well, I guess I can never have you back. Maybe you’re gone forever, but at least I have it on record.

-streetpoet007

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The mating game.

I know she wonders about me often, but there was a time she never gave me a second thought. She did like me, but probably not like that. Things have changed over the past few weeks, words have been said, timing was on my side, circumstances presented themselves as opportunity, and things happened. Maybe it was fate; maybe it was a dice roll, who can say really? The important thing now is to let things flow in the direction best for her and me, I won’t leave it to chance anymore.

It was around a good time when I was busy making things happen for myself (and my circle of associates), when she so happened to fall into my life again. When I say she, I don’t mean “her” specifically, you see, she changes clothes like the weather changes conditions. Of course she was looking her best that day, but then again, so was I. Even though I’m not one for competitions, “let the games begin”. I don’t like to play, but I do like to win, and she forces my hand every time.

“I just want to get along with you” I say over and over, but it’s never that simple, until I show her yet again I cannot be beaten. “The reason I beat you is because I know all your weaknesses” I tell her. When I go to kiss her after watching her eyes quiver, she turns her head away from me. I haven’t forgotten anything about you, didn’t you know that I love your neck and collarbone just as much as your lips? I guess you didn’t remember I found that your birthmark on your shoulder was tender to the touch?

I enjoy each and every part of you to an equal degree, and that is why you look at me that way. The guy who was your second or third choice is looking ever-more-appealing right now, but it was never me to begin with, it was you, it was always you. When I pull the strap off your shoulder, the rubbing of fabric over your skin is like nothing you have felt before. This is the brief moment you get to look into the mirror and see the parts of you that go overlooked. This is why I make you tremble; you are feeling your own radiance.

Now when I tell you how delicious you look in black, you believe me, and not only do you become a better woman, it makes you high. I know you will run off and try to find this stimulating sensation from an easier target, but you won’t find it anywhere else. The reason you won’t find it has nothing to do with me being one-of-a-kind, no, not at all. You won’t find it anywhere else, because the desire lies with-in. I know you’re afraid of me now, but let me into you once more, and I’ll show you just how deep the rabbit hole goes.

…And believe when I say, it gets pretty deep…

-Shaum
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Tough love.

That’s what it’s all about these days. When you’re a good dude like me, everybody want to toss their luggage at you, tryin’ to get you to carry their $#!t, and just as soon as you call em’ on it, they got everything in the world to say but how they are REALLY feelin’, and admitting what they did. It doesn’t just apply to relationships with friends and family either, it’s especially a problem in mutual relationships. Sometimes you just have to remind the other person “you don’t have to be there”, and even thought I don’t like threatening other people, sometimes you just gotta do it.

It seems to be weird for me that way; everything seems to apply to everything else when I finally get “it”. I mean, it’s even like that when the lights go out, or you’re tryin’ to get-it-in till the early morn’; sometimes you just gotta get a little rough to get the results you want. There was a time when I really didn’t want to hurt other people when I was in a fight, but it cost me my self-esteem and permanent scars when I was more concerned for the other person then my own self, but when I realized that my well being was what mattered most, forcing a person to say uncle, and nearly snapping their bone in two wasn’t so hard anymore. I didn’t like it, but it had to be done.

So I admit, there was a time when I thought that purposely making a lover scream your name, or provoking her to tell you “who’s pu**y it is” (when it’s obviously hers); and other such derogatory mannerisms, where just too abrasive, selfish, and just down right “not nice”. The new me/myself/I realizes that sometimes, it simply must be done. Maybe it makes me seem like some territorial dog, or maybe even an egotistical @$$, but at the end of the day, it gets $#!t done; and you simply cannot argue with results. Who would have known that sometimes, a person actually likes having their spirit broken, their walls busted in, or even their power taken away. I guess they need that.

It never really ‘has’ ever applied to me, I am, and will always probably be a gentle creature by nature. However, the more I begin to search for the things that make me happy, the more I find that I have to be a tougher person, a territorial hound, a keen snake and other shady characters that I don’t enjoy taking the role of. I must admit though, at times, on those odd days, it actually becomes quite a fun venture; simply becoming (for a short moment) an entirely different person. I guess it’s almost like a mask in some ways; me never really being fond of them, I guess I am beginning to see the enjoyment.

So if I torture this woman with pleasurable antics, rather then love her slowly as my conscious self would, she will love me much harder, and even leak this admiration into a form of respect? The dynamics of human behavior never cease to amaze me; I’m almost convinced I’m not of this world. The more I delve into the depths of this unique place, the more lost I become in its tangled web. In the meantime, I can only but enjoy the idea that she now wants me more then other things, and the idea that she is practically begging for me at times make me feel like some kind of god.

I know at the root of it all, it’s just an illusion, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t enjoying every minute of it. Is this what they mean by “payin’ the cost to be the boss?”

-Shaum

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See, now that’s kinky!

These are the usual school days that start off slow, and quickly pick up in pace after a few days. Everybody is getting to know each other, the teacher forces you to awkwardly introduce yourself to the class (as if it makes things any easier) and everyone pretty much stays in the cliques they where in last year, until they move on to the next. Yeah, school is pretty much the same familiar bulls**t that gets old quick, but you just have to tolerate.

Unlike most normal people around that time, I refused to make the best out of a bad situation, or to make it worse. All I did was just exist, and remind myself of how much this experience suck’d, so I could work my a** off to get out of it. However, as we all know, school is like jail, if you’re not down with a clique, you’re the “mark”. Things where different when I started going to collage though, I had decided to make a lot of changes in the way I did things early on, so I was pretty much in a good place by the end of the first semester.

You see, school is all about useless bulls**t and popularity contests, and gettin’ people to believe yours, no matter how useless it becomes once you leave. In a way, I started to see the benefits in creating some fake a** façade to carry you through the day and actually make you look forward to coming back at times. Yeah, it was the girls. You see, even though I was under the illusion that girls where smart enough to tell the difference between bulls**t and real s**t, they can’t. Well, I was sort of right, they can, but they can also force themselves to buy into fake s**t for the sake of… well.. I don’t know.

For some reason girls listen to the opinions of their friends more then their own personal values and beliefs, so if a girls friends hear so-and-so about you, then s**t, it must be true. So if rumors are going around that I’m smashin’ fine a** teachers, and the baddest b**ch in school, you best believe I’ll shoot up to the A-list, even if this wanting damsel had never once batted an eye for me before. Even though me and that teacher only had lunch together, and me and **** where just friends, who was I to tell her different? Usually I’d set the record straight when people got me twisted, but to hell with that today.

So if a caramel chica with kinky locks tells me to pull her by the hair and call her a b**ch, well, I guess that’s what I have to do. If you want to brag to all your girlfriends about how great I was last night, that’s fine too, even if I’ve never been with you before. I’m not usually one for all the bogus rumors and fake bulls**t, but every time the girl with the kinky locks strolls up beside me and grabs ma’ arm like I’m her man, I just gotta’ take one for the team. Just when you think you might have found the one, she introduces you to her friends, who just happen to be even more clueless then she is.

Well, I guess I’ll be taking them all to lunch then, won’t I?

-Shaum

Girls who like girls.

I was always curious as to how this worked, do girls look at other girls like I do, or do they look at em’ differently. I mean, if a sexy lady with a nice @$$ walks past, do they look at her like I would look at er’, or is it somethin’ else to this. I just had to know, and when the opportunity came up to give a lesbian lady the 3^rd degree, I didn’t pull any punches. Now keep in mind, ladies tend to speak in code, it’s like they can’t just say what they really want to say unless they’re tipsy, so I had that part taken care of.

So I start to ask her a list of question off the top, makin’ sure to sit next to er’ in a nice and comfy barstool setting, a few drink in er’, and some serious game. I know she didn’t like guys the same way she would moisten up to a fine lady, but I know every woman has a mode, so I had to bring er’ there to get answers. Most of it was layers of bulls**t about emotional attachment and metal sex, blah blah blah, but as she got more liquor in her veins, the truth game out hard.

I couldn’t believe half the things she was telling me, I mean, I know the types of things I would love to do to a sexy dime piece, but I wasn’t nearly on the level she was wit’ it. I had to take mental notes because I was convinced that the s**t she was on would definitely turn a b**ch out. I was always under this impression that dudes where nastier then girls where when it came to “gettin’ it in”, but holy f**k was I wrong. I mean, she really started feelin’ er’self… like literally.

Really, I gotta admit that she kinda drew me in with the detail she was droppin’, and the drinks seem to make her forget I wasn’t her type, if you know what I mean. I was too close to throwing morality out tha’ window, but ma’ boy snapped me back into reality and reminded me that her girl was just in the next room. I didn’t want to break up a perfectly good relationship just cuz I got caught up, but I can’t say I don’t regret it either; at the same time, I kinda feel like I cheated ma’self out. I don’t know.

What I do know, is that girls that like other girls can get down and dirty on a level I never thought possible. I even found out that they have their own sexy s**t, like porn collections of girls makin’ it clap. I was like, WTF? You always find something good when you peel back that fake layer girls like to floss in da’ public eye; but when you pull dat’ curtain back, you better be ready for what comes at you. Dem types of girls go hard as s**t, and it’s no wonder I like em’ so damn much.

Too bad it can’t ever be more then just a fling, and I’m so serious right now.

-Shaum

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Damn baby, that’s tight!

Now, I don’t know about you, but me, I like me some tight spandex pants on a beastin’ body. I just do, I mean, I could tell you why, but you’d never understand. It’s kinda like tryin to tell you all the reasons why you should watch football/WWE with me on Sunday instead of the Lifetime channel. It’s like try’na explain to Kanye West, the meaning of the word “moderation”. You just won’t get it.

The thing that made me bring this up is the ridiculous questions you ladies ask when I say I like somethin’ or I don’t. Askin “why” is bad enough. I mean seriously woman, I know you looked in the mirror before you came out tha house today, you know why I’m lookin at you, and it’s not because I’m wondering how intelligent you are. I would love to find that out later though, but first I need a closer look at that lovely package you got ther’.

I want to ask you a question now, how in-the-f**k did you get those tights on? I mean it’s not like I’m complainin’, but damn, just… look at that $#!t, it’s impressive all by itself, not even adding in the fact that your lookin right as $#!t, but gawd damn! You know what? I’ll make it simple for you. “I like the way you’re dressed right now because it looks like you just have on a shirt, no pants, and somebody just painted a bunch of pretty flowers and roses on your fine, juicy, delicious lookin’ buttocks.”

Seriously though, there is no way to tell you how right you look without sounding offensive, better yet, if I even tried to sound romantic, or sophisticated wit’ it, It would sound corny as $#!t, and phony as $#!t. I remember everyone was trippin’ off me messin’ with a blonde chick a while back, but this was the reason why I was so crazy about her @$$. I mean, did you see how she was lookin’ on those odd days? I gotta admit I was the one who bought her those tight black yoga pants, and damn was it worth it!

The point is, I’m not as shallow as you may think, and I don’t just like a girl for one thing. Tights are just my kryptonite, I can’t help it; that’s just the way it is. How about I do you one better and let you in on a secret. If you ask me to do somethin’, or I’m mad at you and you want to have things ya way, just toss on a pair of skin-tight sweatpants and sit on ma lap. I promise I’ll do anything you ask.

Seriously, I will… no bull$#!t.

-Shaum

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