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Updated: Aug 18


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It would seem that expressing gratitude isn’t really your thing. I mean seriously though, is this as far as it goes? I wish I knew what had my attention while I absentmindedly passed by the DEAD END sign at the intersection. It surely wasn't your potential that had me hooked because if you can recall, I wasn't looking for much, perhaps a couple of fucks, nice things like tables with fine views while we dine for dinners and such. I didn't have expectations outside of transparency, respect, and mutual trust. Those were ground rules, but you won’t wake up and smell the coffee; our blend was strong.


You were cool with my crazy and I was alright with your weirdness, I embraced it. That's what made you cute. I sought understanding when really, I could have just offed you like I did "them other n***s" you so affectionately refer to them as. I could have been more harsh and abrasive, you know being emotive is a struggle for me. But not once did I align you with my challenges. I found the ease in adopting a practical approach with the intent of making things naturally flow. I wasn't trying to be all up in my feelings, but clearly, you don't like it when I mind my business.


How... just how is it that I embody everything you need, tell you everything I want, command what I deserve, give you what you want, and you still don't know what to do with me? You be trying to give me everything other than what I asked for, starting with your ass to kiss. What's the issue? It's totally OK if you say that it's me. I can handle being told I'm the issue. I want to be the problem for a n***a. Gave you clear instructions on how we could avoid me having to go off on you like this. It's hard to shut me up when I get going. I'm senseless and I don't have a filter, for real. You must not like sincere Duchess, because you've exhausted all your chances. But you haven't paid that too much attention. You dismissed my warning signs just as much as I ignored your DEAD END sign. Two fools together. We're a match made in heaven. You're the only one who doesn't see it.


We know I’m a sucker for the distance, but you took things too damn far. I used to always blame myself just to clear the air even if I wasn't wrong. You never jump the gun on proposing resolve. So I said fuck it, made a game of it, and ain't ashamed to say working you to satisfaction made us both come twice as hard. It worked for me. But this time around my dear friend not only am I’m not impressed, but your apathy causes my lady parts to wither. I can't even muster the audacity or the fucks to blame myself.


But hold on, let me be objective. I hold a high standard of accountability, so let me be honest for myself. Let me think about if it’s really my fault for allowing this to happen?


Was it me that pushed too far for too long?


Nahhh, that can’t be it. I can't accept that. Denial maybe?

However, I'm on the outside looking in so I need to vent in order to better assess.


There’s no reason as to why you do me like this? Are you bored with the Purple? Was I just phase? Finally fed up with my hair dye staining your pillowcase? Nah, it can’t be the Purple. You professed to love that shit, but you were probably just gassing me the entire time. Thank God my love of self doesn’t ride the wave of your praise, because honey, the banks have dried.


I started off on the good foot, I did. I put my best foot forward, but just know I could have been selfish and obsessive with you. I could have exercised more crazy than I did sexy and cool. I stayed immersed in my own life, which in turn gave you the space you needed to breathe freely. Really, I only noticed your absence during the times I'd come up for air. But you've managed to develop this disgusting habit of not being there. This is the thanks I get for not pressing you every ten minutes? Gee, being selfless with men like you leave me feeling lonely and deprived. You must feel so great about yourself to have succeeded in huemanizing me. Your elusiveness makes me insane. When I blink my eyes, I see a thousand of you imprinted on my eyelids resembling a kaleidoscope. The finest menagerie of those charming eyes, that handsome smile, and all the deception in between.


Why?


Do you have to be so dismissive? Does being on your terms really require you to be relentless? You've stood by me while I endured the worst, you know I'm strong. You just assume that because you can attest to my strength, I can handle the brunt of your bitterness? That doesn’t give you the license to trot and trample over my ego. You used to tread lightly. You were gentle because you knew I was fragile. Your rejection is testing my sobriety. You always had a thing for taking me past my limit. Sad part is, that's what I love about you. You lead me on, then leave me on, alone and under your influence. Your absence means I have to hold my own hair back as I regurgitate and reiterate the notions of your false security. I’ve been missing your presence unbelievably so, the way you’re stalling on my fix is unethical. You're spending all this time away, and making me pay for what you owe! Your stubbornness makes my bed cold. I must be your least favorite person right now, forget the color. You're acting like Purple was never etched in the rainbow that carried you over! You're somewhere enjoying your pot of gold doing what, only God knows, and I’m over here clenching this pillow in between my legs irritated to know that you rather be somewhere else, probably in the bed of a woman with pretty long hair for you to play in.


I wish this pillow was you. I wish you were laying in between my legs, using my thighs as pillows to rest your head. I wish you needed me.


I'm doing my best to play my part, but your role in the last few scenes was pretty fucked up.


Your poor judgment in character is compromising my sanity like you wouldn't believe. You claim to hate when I berate you like this, but I can't tell.


Seems like it's the only way to get your attention.


I gotta threaten your independence and show my ass just to get you to listen?

That's rough. Or is that love?

Create a blog post subtitle that summarizes your post in a few short, punchy sentences and entices your audience to continue reading.


Straw hats

Men don't like to talk, or so that's what I grew up hearing.


Being the talker I am, this concept made it easy for me to have a skewed perception of what balanced and healthy communication should look like in a relationship. I like to talk so much I talk to myself because I not only enjoy my company, but I have a passion for expressing myself. Unfortunately that passion was often met with resistance during my calmer days back when I was living on a humbug. I just went with the flow of life and would have my pick from the gentlemen who expressed interest. That passive perspective made me more susceptible to being dissatisfied because I ended up becoming more self-conscious than I needed to be. I became reluctant to speak up and ask relevant questions in relationships, even though I needed and wanted clarity, validation, and understanding.


I became involved with a handsome guy who was a self proclaimed non-talker. He and I only engaged in robust conversations when there was a problem or misunderstanding. We didn't talk too much about our passions, pursuits, politics, none of that. We laughed and joked about episodes of Fresh Prince and funny memes on the internet, but it stopped there. He didn't have much substance to contribute, which left me feeling pretty stagnant.


He only ever offered a hearty chat when he was irritated with me getting attention from other guys, especially those trolling my instagram. Aside from speaking on his masculinity being threatened, holding a conversation was deemed both challenging and pointless for him. It was like pulling teeth for simple things like "how was your day?", "what about this hobby interests you?" or "don't say you love me if you can't tell me why. If you do why?" to more complex things like "what are your thoughts on the global warming?", "why or why don't you believe in reincarnation?"


I know you're probably reading this thinking, how could Purple stick it out with someone like that and to be honest the answer is quite simple: the sex was bomb. But once the last few drops evaporated, I moved on with a new attitude. I didn't allow his lack of communication or transparency to hinder the way I connected with other men. If anything it made me raise my standards, and open my mouth--- in the traditional sense of gaining the courage to ask simple and uncomfortable questions.


Over time, I made note of the questions that men found the most delightful and as well as the most disturbing. This non-exhaustive list of questions have all been prefaced with the simple phrase "just keep it real with me". This approach led to many a memorable conversations with dispensable and unforgettable men alike.


Answers are sold separately.





why do you crave to be graced with the waters from the violet hydrant but run away wincing if the pressure is too intense?


why do know you deserve better, but settle for what I'm willing to give?

how does it feel to settle for my bare minimum?

wouldn't you rather have the peace of a whole instead of the piece of a hole?


how can my brashness turn you off, if you're also soo excited by it?


why don't you let your mom pick your woman since you're always comparing me to her?

have you thought about grooming one in her likeness?


why is my idea of 'nice' not sufficient?

why is my sincerity bewildering?

why do you make me flex when my intent is to ''chill''?

why do you like it when I act out?


how are you enticed by mystique, but want to know the ins and outs of my life?


why are you unsettled with my need for distance?


why don't you seek stability if that's what you really want?

why don’t you pursue malleable, conventional, and wholesome women?

why do you insist on making me your something to complain about?

why do you want things from me I’m not interested in giving, like emotive communication?


why do you underestimate your ability to catch yourself from falling in love with me?

why can’t you realize that you don’t compartmentalize as well as you think?


why do you think I’m willing to make an exception for you if I outwardly say I don't want a relationship?


how come you didn't read the fine print before you signed the dotted line?


why are you hell bent on not taking me serious?


you said you wanted me because I wasn't like the others, so why are you trying to assimilate me into your collection of scorned lovers?


why do you hassle me by begging for my attention with no intent other than to waste my time? do you realize that makes you undesirable and unattractive?


how come you insist on giving me both tangible and abstract things you think I lack instead of supplying what I ask?


who raised you? is this monstrosity before me what they were really aiming for?


do you understand the difference? sex is the act, but intimacy is the goal.


don't you think I might get enough lust from the outside world? if you don't want to be treated like the others, why do you assume their tendencies?


why are you discontent with the fact that I don't want the weight of being anything other than The Duchess in your life?






A cat looking at a window

My flight touched down at 11:00 PM, and Mr. LetDown himself agreed to pick me up from the airport. How lucky was I. Yeah right. Hopefully for the sake of his pride, my dignity and my mental health, he’ll be on time. Unbeknownst to him, this was his last and final attempt to prove himself worth keeping. This was his chance to prove to me that he was more than a six foot five bronze dipped decadent melanin prince with a staff of brass.


The fasten your seatbelt sign went off, and I went to text Mr. LetDown to let him know I had landed safely on schedule. But before I could even open our thread, I get a notification that read “15 mins late”.


My eyes roll heavenward. Everything in me wanted to respond “never mind”, and call a car but I replied "OK", and grabbed my luggage from the overhead instead. I’m heading down the isle of the plane in what feels like slow motion, as I reconsider my reasons for involving him in my travel plans. It’s clear that I am a glutton for his consistent unreliability. No other explanation. I must love having something to complain about. I mean, seriously Duch, what else could explain why you settle for this? Taking advantage of my own needs, as an excuse to “see where his mind is” like I just met him two days ago. I know where his mind is, and it’s not on me. Maybe I wanted to entertain the possibility of him having changed. Maybe I secretly wanted more from him, and didn't have the balls to stand up to myself for myself. Does that make me foolish? Crazy? Any other woman would be.

Mr. LetDown and I have never really been on one accord and not demanding more from one another has kept things afloat. If we don’t agree on anything else, we satisfy each other’s need for distance. We’ll go months without speaking, only using Instagram as the social mediator. Every now and then he'll 'like' something of mine, and will send heart eyes as a reply to my sexy silhouettes and titty pics. I'll slide into his DM's with tongues and water droplets when he's on my timeline looking too damn fine. We have no shame in our indulgences. This 'at arms length' type of communication lasts for about six to eight months. I'm usually the one to open the personal communication by sending an unexpected "I'm in the city, come get this ass" ass message.


But this time was different. I gave him a weeks notice. Told him that all this Purple would be ready for pick up from the airport on Thursday night. At the very least he could have been on time, but that would be too much like right. Walking through the terminal, dodging germs and eye contact with onlookers through my designer sunglasses, I all but lament my initial question. "What was I to gain dealing with him" I thought about my initial question.


Ok, sure he inspires me creatively, but I'm always compelled to write about the way he leaves me craving more from life and from men.


He's nothing like that crisp and refreshing carbonated beverage that satisfies your craving kind of man. He’s more like the store bought off brand beverage that you have to drink right away because it loses potency within the hour. Mr. LetDown is the kind of man who shows up empty handed, and doesn't understand that a dick in hand doesn't count as an offering. He'll pull up faded, but won’t bring you nada roach, nada bud, nada parts of the tree he's high on. Not a drop of tequila spared for you to get on his level.


Thinking of those memories enabled me to realize what I wanted from him in the present moment. I wanted to tell him exactly how I felt about him, in the hopes that he would change. Funny thing is I didn't even want him to change for me, but for someone else.


If nobody calls you out on your bluffs and mistakes, you have no idea that you're doing something wrong. Not having the patience or desire to emotionally deal with this man beyond the surface caused me to contribute to his subpar behavior.


There's no way for a man to be aware of how his carelessness makes him unattractive, if you don't tell him about it. I was going toe to toe with Mr. LetDown, instead of actually confronting things that made me uncomfortable about our interaction. It was pointless that he gave me most amount of problems when he required the least amount of time.


So tonight, no matter how good he looks and how great he smells, we're going to have this much needed conversation. I'll be the bigger person and actually address the problems that I have with him, and hopefully I'll gain some resolve for the problems I have within myself.


Now let's just hope he shows up at all.

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