I do challenging emotional work because I have experienced the benefit and beauty of getting to the other side. I have found that by addressing issues as they arrive with help, support, patience and a little fucking grit—I am able to navigate difficulty healthily. Being truly present without hella heavy shit weighing me down is a gift I give myself. One thing I love to be present for is secks. Not too long ago, I was certain I was meant to marry a man if we had the slightest sexual chemistry. Thankfully, I’ve consistently used tools and learned to set healthy boundaries with both my brain and vagina.
Last fall, I really wanted to enjoy my university’s off-campus homecoming festivities with friends and fellow alumni. Because we’re still very much in a panoramic, the online consensus was that not many folks were going to be in attendance. Because of this, I wasn’t sure who I’d see, but there was one guy I was particularly interested in running into.
When married, I’d watch internet chatter around “Hey Big Head” texts and other homecoming foolery. It was amusing, but I could't relate. My first hoco as a single woman wasn’t until 2019, seven years after I’d graduated. That homecoming hookup history is yawn-worthy and void of any sexual chemistry at all.
It entailed an ambitious condom size that felt like a loose grocery bag being thrust inside my body; and me stopping that man enjoying jabbing himself into me without awareness of my discomfort. He placed blame on his exhaustion, having to wear a condom and it being 3am.
Because my previous homecoming hookups aren’t noteworthy in the way that I wanted them to be, I did not have any expectations for 2021. I remained optimistic for the fun that lied in possibility anyway, I’m a hopeful like that. And regardless of the men I could potentially entertain, I was happy to be kickin’ it with my girls after essentially living under a rock in West Africa for the summer.
I will spare the over-romanticized and anti-climactic story leading up to me connecting with an alum I had only really seen in passing prior. I will tell ya’ll about the kind of man that I adore, though. One who is unassuming—that doesn’t gotta say or do too much to make his presence known. I adore a man with a nice smile, who doesn’t take himself too seriously. A man who is playful without needing to be the center of attention. One with a voice, lawd a man with a voice.
I saw him earlier in the evening and made a few flirtatious remarks. I didn’t linger but made my presence known. I banked on getting a chance to shake a lil ass on him at the alumni party. I made rounds squeezing folks I hadn’t seen in years, enjoying the sincerely good feeling to connect with people I Stan online. The alum love was heavy and genuinely reciprocated. There was also the hugging of single husbands, single fiancés, and single boyfriends that were a little too excited to see me. Dude from ’19 was at my neck heavy too—grabbing my waist when I passed and holding onto my arm so I couldn’t walk away. He was all, “Why do you hate me?”
Boyifyoudontgone.
I was too tired to drink, drink and the DJ wasn’t playing anything I could show off my selective rhythm to. Being too sober to dance to music I didn’t know, with a man I didn’t know—I just walked up to him. We hugged and when he asked me what I was doing after, I looked him in the eye, leaned in close to his ear and said, “Probably you.”
Now, I’m not gon' say what fraternity this man was in but I am going to say that there is a specific group of men who are rumored to have a very specific skillset. I am not one for generalizations but honey let me tell you, this man lived up to every bit of the hype.
We’d never conversed prior to him showing up at my Airbnb, so we got some general get-to-know-you stuff out the way first. We chatted, got comfortable and laid with our elbows propped. Our heads rested in our hands, facing one another.
At one point he said, “You have this glow. Has anyone ever told you that before?” I actually hear it all the time but in that moment, I got hella bashful. I didn’t care if it were genuine, or some slick ass game he was spitting. Commenting on my glow by candlelight while vibey music plays is going to get me every time. I wanted to say something reserved and cool, you know—sexy. But instead, I smiled big and blurted out, “Yeah, when I’m in the sun!”
That man smiled at me, cupped his hand on the nape of my neck and kissed me slowly. His lips were soft, his mouth inviting me into him. As we kissed, he untied my robe and made clay of me, molding my body with his touch. He was strong but intentionally tender. He took his time and maintained eye contact. He held me tight and made each moment about me and my body and my pleasure. In turn, making me make it about him and his body and his pleasure. I’m not a petite girl, but he handled me like I was. Our bodies flowed effortlessly in one another’s, sharing an innate chemistry.
Fireworks. Sunbeams.
Hell, hearts, stars, horse shoes, clovers, and blue moons. Pots of gold, and rainbows AND the red balloon, honey.
We synced naturally. It’s always a pleasant revelation when my body feels intrinsically familiar with someone else’s the first time we have seggs. At one point I laughed out loud, surprised that his quiet and generally reserved ass was a beast in bed. He smiled humbly, “Nah, that’s all you.” His naked body—a work of art. His arms tight, muscular. His chest—crafted by god herself.
We matched each other’s fiery energy and navigated fumbly and awkward parts with ease—like when my long floor-length braids were under one of our bodies. He laser-focused on me in the most reassuring way. I asked him to tell me what he wanted and his only response was ever, “I want you to come,” or “I want you to come again.” It was the kind of stuff that still makes me wanna ask dude if he ate today or if he needs help folding his laundry from across the country. Matter of fact, I wanna ask him if his dog needs walked while he’s at work. I got Cujo, you good?
When I think I’ve had the best secks I’ve ever had in my life, I have another experience with somebody else’s son that one-ups it.
The thing I love about entertaining men at this age is the maturity I have entering each situation. I speak up for myself if something feels off, I advocate for my own pleasure while also considering the person I’m with and their comfort levels. There is also the discernment of when to end sex altogether if need be. Obviously, each situation and experience is different and my judgement muscle has areas in which I could improve (hello—the three blogs I’ve written and one to come about a well moisturized but emotionally crusty ass man).
The upside to being generally optimistic and entertaining men, is I’m not burnt out. I don’t use sex as a coping mechanism and I try to ensure that I’m always in the best headspace first. I am hopeful and navigate other people with an open mind, heart, and sometimes legs.
