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Wednesday, June 30, 2010

Your The Best Daddy Ever!!!

Short thought...

I took my kids swimming today. Took some time to just veg out with them. We went up to a good friend's house, and took over the pool. I cooked whatever they wanted on the grill, played whatever music they wanted to hear, and just.....chilled. It was great!!!

While sitting on the patio eating hot dogs, my daughter, says, "Daddy, you're the best daddy EVER!!" Mind you, she says it all the time. But this was different. She stood up, commanded her brothers join in with her, as all three of them chanted repeatedly, "You're the best daddy EVER!!" I was almost moved to tears.

When I look into my children's eyes, I'm reminded of their uncontitional love for me. I remember that they love me with my flaws, my often crazy disposition, and the discipline when I have to be the "bad guy". I love the way they want me to be pleased with them, the way they value our time together, the way they like their daddy.

I only hope that they realize how much they mean to me. I love those kids. And while I'm probably not the best dad EVER, they are the best kids EVER.

Thursday, June 24, 2010

A Little More About Me....

It's been a few days since I've had the opportunity to write an entry.  My laptop has been in major surgery and is now recovering quite well.   

I had a few days to think about my situation.  Gargamel (my wife) and I have been at it again.  Well, actually, she's been at it.  I just let her yell and get her feelings, accusations, and digs off of
 her chest.  Amazing what can happen when you drop your kids off.  You end up having to shovel a bunch of shit!  I marvel at how one person can simply believe that 100% of the problems in a relationship can be the fault of one person.  Oh well.  


So my problem is this.....

I have taken some time to acknowledge that my marriage and relationship with my wife was not managed well by either of us.  In fact, we probably disregarded just about every potential issue that would come up in order to "look the part".  I also realize that atmosphere that we create when we are all together (with the kids) is certainly not what I want to continue to expose my children to.  I can't control what she does when I'm not around, but I can deal with what I teach my kids.  Finally (and this is a bit difficult to acknowledge),  I have to deal with the fact that I feel like a hypocrite just about everyday.  There was a time when I didn't believe in divorce, unless the circumstances were extreme.  But now, I want one.  There was a time when I didn't believe in stepping outside of the marriage covenant, but now I understand why people do.  There was a time when I thought I would be with my wife until one of us died.  Now, we both want to kill each other.  I really wonder at times if my kids, along with others in my life, view me as the hypocrite that I sometimes feel I've become.   You see......I'm a minister.




I have taught, preached, and counseled on the very issues that I struggle with.  I left my congregation because I needed to get my mind together and my life straight.  I'm a mess.  I love the fact that I'm finally coming in touch with my feelings and who I am.  But there is something else I'm supposed to be as well.  There are folks that look to me for teaching, guidance, or counsel.  While I know that none of us will ever be perfect, I wonder if I can ever do ministry at the level that I'm capable.  Don't get it twisted.  My feelings are the same.  But I also love ministry.  I love teaching, speaking, counseling, and helping others......sort of making a difference in some folks lives.  But what do I do when what I believe and what I feel are in direct conflict?  WOW!!  I believe in the marriage covenant, but I don't intend to fight forever.  It's over.  Will God not allow me to be who I feel I'm called to be if I divorce and if I deal with dudes?  

Just when you thought my shit was getting boring, here comes this mess.  Damn!!  My head hurts.  Immanuel, Raw Daddy, Ecogito.......where are ya'll????  

Time to smoke.
   

Wednesday, June 16, 2010

I Think I Like Him...

It has taken me years to openly acknowledge the fact that I am a sensitive guy. I mean, extremely sensitive. Not so much that I am overly concerned about the thoughts and others. I'm too old for that shit. There are only a few people in my life that matter enough for me to worry too much about what they think. The level of sensitivity that I walk in centers more around my response to the world, what I feel about others, how I am concerned about the plight of everyone else. I still get emotional when watching Ceelie and Nettie sing 'You and Me Must Never Part....' in The Color Purple. When I see someone hurting, I get overly concerned about their well-being. I'm just a big ass muthafukkin sap!!!

Being the emotional sap that I am also brings with it a hell of a lot of affection. I love to hold and be held. I love to kiss and be kissed. I love doing for people in my life, cooking, entertaining, quality time, all of that shit. I'm affectionate with my kids, and with loved ones in my life. When I'm with a brutha, I can just lay up all night and go to sleep with him. Don't always have to nutt. But touch is a big fuckin deal.

So one day I went to dinner with a friend of mine. "I want you to meet someone", Lawrence told me. I hate "meeting"people when I know that I'm potentially being set up. I don't like the awkard feeling of having to pretend that I am enjoying the company of someone that I don't find intriguing, attractive, or even interesting. "Lawrence, you know how I feel about blind dates." I told him. "Nigga, just do this for me. I don't want to go out with my new friend alone, and I really think you're gonna like 'Stephen'. Fine!! That's my problem. Always doing what the fuck everyone else wants me to do. I'm such a pushover for my friends.

I drove to a popular Italian restaurant just outside of town. I didn't feel like trying to impress anyone, so all I had on was a pair of jeans and an Avirex long sleeve tee. When I got t the table, Lawrence was there with his date, Justin (or something). Stephen was sitting there. Apparently, he didn't feel it necessary to impress anyone either, as he was in a pair of jeans and Yankees tee. Everyone stood and we all greeted one another. While I was a bit salty about having agreed to this whole thing, I was quite surprised and excited about this particular 'Stephen' that stood to shake my hand. One of the finest almost 50-year old mutha fukkas I have ever met.

Stephen was a breath of fresh air. Pleasant, intelligent, funny, and fine as a mutha fukka. Enough of a uppity ass dude, that has a ghetto switch that will make him kirk off on a bitch, all wrapped up in one fine ass physique. I don't remember what I ate that night. In fact, neither of us finished our meals. We talked and practically forgot about Lawrence and Joshua (or whatever the fuck his name was). Stephen left his car at Lawrence's house. Lawrence wanted to go to a club. I definitely wasn't interested in house music for 5 hours. Stephen didn't want to go either. "Can I get a ride to my car?" he asked. No prob. We drove to Lawrence's house so he could get his car. I don't know how long we sat in my car talking, but I didn't want it to end. We ended up going for a walk. There is a pond near Lawrence's house. We sat out in front of the water for a while, talked, and shared some very intimate things about ourselves. The night ended with a little kissing and a huge huge (Stephen is a big muufukka--about 6'5" and muscular). Shit -- dick getting hard as I'm typing about his ass.

It's been some months now. Stephen and I talk just about daily. We see each other a few times a week. Sometimes we cook, other times we just lay around and watch TV, and then there are times when we.....

Anyway, Stephen made a little comment to me the other day. "Man, I think I might try to keep you around". Interesting. We'll see where that goes. I may be just a bit too arrogant to roll with that statement. I'm not to be kept. I'm to be sought after. But we'll see how long it is before I give in. I think I like him.

Monday, June 14, 2010

Time to Go...


My search for a place hasn't been as bad as I thought. At first, I was a bit concerned. I haven't lived alone in years. Almost didn't remember what it felt like to go look at floor plans, get copies of pay stubs, and all the other bullshit that comes with trying to find a place to rent. Nonetheless, it's time to find a place of my own. I can't move forward until I.......hell.....move forward. Joseph, my frat brother, has been a tremendous help to me in this season of my life. I appreciate him so much. But it's time to give him and Vanessa (the bitchy fiance) some space; and it's time to go somewhere and have some privacy. I love Joseph. That's my nigga. And while I'm in no way concerned about our friendship being in jeopardy because of my stay there, I don't want to make things tense between him and Vanessa. The bitch is always throwing nasty looks toward me. I almost want to holla out, "Bitch, I had that already. Go get married".

Joseph used to always visit me before he moved here. And of course, he always stayed with me. A few years ago, during one of his visits, we went out and got twisted, blazed (smoked some green), and of course, ate up everything in the fuckin house. We stumbled our way back into my crib, and crashed on the couch. Around 3am, I was awakened by Joseph rubbing my dick through my pants. "Nigga, what the fuck are you doing?", I asked. "I've been wanting you since high school. I want to get fucked for the first time, and I want you to be my first." I told his ass to go to sleep and we would talk about this shit in the morning when he is sober (knowing that he would wake up and wouldn't remember shit). Of course, the nigga passed out.

The next morning, I got up and went for a run. I came in the house and immediately went to the shower to get cleaned up. Halfway through my shower, in comes Joseph. "What are you doing?", I asked Joseph. "I'm sober now. I'm in my right mind. And I still want you. I want you to fuck me.....now". The nigga dropped to his knees and gave me some of the worse sloppy top I've ever had. Typical curious, straight guy trying to suck a dick for the first time. Teeth rubbing up against everything. I wanted to smack the shit out of Joseph and tell him to get the fuck up. But this moment meant so much to him. And I didn't want to fuck that up for him. I moaned as best I could, talked shit and pretended that I wasn't scraping my shit up. Joseph and I left the shower and ended up in my bed, grinding, sucking and eventually, after much preparation, lube, and counsel........fucking. Joseph couldn't really take the dick, but acted like it was the best thing since sliced bread. I fucked him while he screamed and bucked. Finally, I ended up nuttin all over his face and chest, per his request.

We never did anything again. Every now and then, when Joseph gets a little arrogant, I simply remind him of the night I let him be my "bitch".

So, eight months prior to Joseph's wedding to Vanessa, he's asking me if we can fuck. HELL NO!! He's my boy, but it was a dead fuck. I wouldn't have my enemies fuck him. It's time for me to go. I don't want to be a distraction for Joseph. I will eventually have a conversation with him and share the importance of making sure that marriage is what he wants.

In meantime, I just got approved for the spot I looked at. Trying to save up for the security deposit so that I can move by the first of the month. Better get out of there before I have to fuck him and his cranky bitch.

Wednesday, June 9, 2010

Small Beginnings.....

So, after a day filled with emotional ups and downs, I had the kids all to myself again. Gargamel (see Gargamel's On the Way -- 5/27/10) had another business trip. I spent three days with my children; answering their questions, being honest about the reality that I may not reconcile with their mother, and just enjoying the company of three silly ass kids. It was so refreshing to chill with them each day after school. Gave me time to regroup and pull myself together. I have decided that I won't let anything change the relationship I have with those three jokers. If Gargamel has a problem with it, she can kiss my ass and go back to playin with Azriel.

Anyway, somehow the time spent with the kids motivated me get back on my grind as it relates to finding my own place. While I appreciate the hospitality of my frat brother, Joseph, it's time for me to go. I don't want to overstay my welcome. He's engaged. Vanessa, his fiance, is always over at the house. Who the hell wants to sit around with their asses while they pick out invitations, look at dresses, and tell each other, "I love you more" for an hour??? Besides, I'm starting to get a little uncomfortable around her. I get the feeling that she's fuckin with me. Always throwing nasty little looks. At first, I couldn't tell if she was giving me the 'I wish you would get the fuck out of here' look, or the 'Nigga, you better not try to come between me and my man' look. I had better find a place. Because if the bitch keeps throwing the looks, I might have to let her know that I have cum between Joseph's lips AND ass cheeks. So I'm done. She can have him.

So I've been searching for a place to stay; apartments, basements, rooms. Found quite a few places. One in particular caught my eye. It is a three-bedroom colonial. About 5 minutes away from our home (really close to the children). I would have a bedroom and the full run of the house. But the shit is a start.


It certainly is a humbling far cry from the 5-bedroom home that I walked out of. But for a nigga to have peace of mind, GIVE ME THAT APPLICATION!! Waiting to find out.

Ya'll pray for a brutha.

Monday, June 7, 2010

Great Dad......Bad Husband?????


As a father, I have tried to make sure that I give my children the best of who I am. I try to teach them the importance of a strong character, integrity, and accountability. I make every effort to be the example before them, ensuring that they are molded into strong, well-rounded, responsible individuals. My children are used to spending quality time with me. Regardless of what my schedule requires, I make sure that my children are priority. I attend events, games, recitals, and everything that their schedules call for. I love the time that we spend doing homework, watching some of the stupid shows they enjoy, or just running around outside or inside of the house. Basically, my children know what it is to have daily access to 'daddy'.

On the other hand, my contribution to my failed marriage has changed greatly. When I married her, she was my queen. I placed her on a pedestal.....probably to a fault. I never wanted her upset, or angry, or disgusted. I constantly went out of my way to appease her. But the longer we stayed together, my wonderful wife, whom I made every effort to care for, became an ungrateful, complaining version of her mother. Never satisfied with anything I did. Always unhappy with any contribution that I made toward our relationship. If I took her out, she didn't like the venue selection. If I cooked dinner, she would rather have gone out. If I bought her a card or sent her a cute little note, something was wrong with me. When I told her I loved her, her response was, "What do you want?" or "What's wrong with you?". I spent years being emasculated, told I was less than a husband, and a terrible friend. I would never argue my position, because I didn't want my "queen" to be further angered by my actions. Pretty stupid, but it's what I did. I was 18 when we started dating, and 23 when we got married. I thought being a good husband meant that your wife should always be happy, taken care of, and almost fuckin spoiled. What an idiot I was. So when my marriage finally started deteriorating, I simply gave up. Didn't care anymore. My wife and I don't even like each other anymore. It's been years since we've been friends. We aren't intimate. And it's not her. It's me. I hate being in the same room with her. Conversations only occur when necessary. My body doesn't respond to her (but trust, a nigga's shit works). Every time we speak, another argument sparks up. I have accepted the fact that maybe I was a bad husband. Maybe I was a terrible friend. Maybe I should have set my expectations as well, instead of just trying to live up to hers. Maybe I should have stopped at one point and told her, "We aren't living another day like this". None of it matters. My marriage is over. And I'm learning to deal with that. But the bitch made one error that completely rocked my world, and possibly started a war she might not be ready for.

Yesterday, I got a call from my 12-year old son. "Daddy, mommy said that you don't want to be with us anymore. Is that why you don't live here anymore?" I almost flipped my truck over. I pulled over and explained to my son (again) that adults don't always get along, and sometimes end up separating so that they don't continue to hurt each other. I assured him that none of this was their faults, and that I want to be with them every chance I get. I sat on the side of the road for 45 minutes, crying, and explaining to my sons (the younger had picked up by now) that they meant the world to me and that I will always be the best father that I could. Hearing them tell me that they loved me, and that they knew that "mommy was just upset" meant the world to me.

I may be a lot of things, a bad husband, bad friend, horrible lover, WHATTHEFUCKEVER!!! But no one can EVER speak to the way I love my children. I have used every experience to teach them, instill in them, and speak over them everything that they are to become. I will never let anyone stop me from being the best father possible.

Okay, there will have to be a Part II to this entry. I'm in tears now and need a break. If I don't write for a few days, maybe my followers will gather up some bail money.

Later

Thursday, June 3, 2010

Trapped With Her...Driven To Him

So I'm sitting around and really went into deep thought, as I do sometimes. Why did I title this blog a particular way? Why do I feel the way I do? What motivates my actions? I decided to write down some of my thoughts, as I will do periodically. Have at it!!

She is my wife.

He is........well, bruthas I've come across (no one in particular).











It's not that I don't love her. Her hair, her smile, her enregy. It's not that I don't smile when she looks at me. Stick my chest out when she brags on me. Feel on top of the world when she needs me.

But there's something that makes me feel trapped. Bound to the things that we 'call' a relationship... the dates when I don't want to go; the the smiles that are insincere and contrived; the trips to the novelty store, trying to 'spice up' our relationship. I'm trapped with her.

Yet, there is a pull toward him. I want to get away to him; tell him how I feel; cuddle up with an old movie and play with the palm of his hand. The worse things get with her, the stronger driving force is that points me to him. I'm driven to him.

I can't make love to her anymore. It's not because of him. It's that we failed to love each other the way we should. Yet, that opened up a door for me to get from him what she no longer can provide. I don't want to hurt her. But I don't want to hurt because I'm forced to pretend I want her. I'm trapped with her.

I think of him all the time. What is he doing? What is he wearing? I need to see him....now! But I have thoughts of her too. When will this end? How can I get away? What kind of person have I become with her?

Our marriage failed. Desiring him doesn't help the situation. The reality is....I'm with her, but I'm driven to him

Wednesday, June 2, 2010

Jay with the Tatts....


So today I got a phone call from Jay (Jayson). Hadn't heard from him in a few weeks. "Wassup pa?", he asked. "Ain't shit". I said. "You comin to see a brutha? Did I get kicked to the curve? Damn man. Wassup?", Jay whined.

Okay. Wait a minute. I started thinking about the fact that Jay knows that I'm separated. More importantly, he knows that I am an active father. Why do guys make the effort to hook up with down-low bruthas that are honest enough to explain possible difficulties in the coordination of schedules?? And when the first situation comes up, they start bitchin???

"Nigga, I got kids! Get over yourself.", I blurted out. He got himself together. I like Jay, but shit. I got stuff to do. I have to work, be Mr. Dad (practices, games, dance, school, homework, band, etc.), while trying to find another job so that I can eventually afford my own spot. A nigga gotta be strategic about scheduling some ass. Don't get it twisted, I don't like to miss out on time with Jay. He's been great for me, from day one.

I met him in a tattoo parlor. We were both there getting inked up. It was a Friday night during the Summer. The place was packed. So there was plenty of time to try to get to know this cute ass thug that I had been staring at for the past hour and a half, while awaiting my turn. There was only one person in front of me. I started getting nervous. These were gonna be tattoos #4 and #5. But I still tend to get nervous at the thought of someone drawing into my skin for a good amount of time, which is painful as shit. Shit yeah, a nigga is getting a little antsy.

Jay was looking at tattoo samples all over the waiting room. He must have noticed that I was nervous because I had started pacing the floor. "You aiight slim?", he asked. "Yeah, I'm good. Just getting my self mentally prepared." As I was talking to him, I was pulling out a blunt and headed toward the door. When I got out side, Jay came out behind me. I lit the blunt (had already rolled it at home--a nigga has to have a J ready for emergencies. Getting your back drilled by a tatto artist is an official emergency).

"Is that how you prepare for gettin inked?", Jay asked. With my first tattoo, I drank some vodka to calm my nerves and hopefully ease the pain of this process. I had forgotten that blood thins with alcohol consumption. Had a couple of shots of vodka, and bled all over the place like a hot ass pig!! Since that day, I take a hit of the blunt before going in. Clear my mind with a lil "fuck it" in the system. Jay stays outside with me and we talk for a good litle while. He even came back to the room and chatted with me while I got inked. Then we switched and chatted while he got some work done.

Since that time, Jay and I have gotten more ink work done together, gone out to drink together, smoke together, and now..........we fuck too. He is a sexy lil shorty, standing about 6'. Small little waist. He's a young bachelor. Can't cook. He doesn't eat much. I'm gonna have to fatten him up just a little bit. Jay has a phenomenal tattoo that takes up his entire back, and some nice artwork on his chest.

So when Jay called me yesterday, he didn't want to hear about me being busy. "I understand that you're busy. And I appreciate that father you are to your kids. But papa, I need for you to fuck me. You need to make that shit happen.......TODAY." That shit meant a lot to me. It's been a few years since I've felt needed by anyone other than my kids. To have him practically begging for me to make time for him felt wonderful. Plus.....I can't be responsible for him NOT getting the dick. That's just irresponsible.

I drove to Jay's apartment. About a 20 minute ride. I was genuinely excited about seeing him, talking and catching up. It had been about a month. I wanted to hear how he had been doing and just hold him for a while, reassuring him that I'm still his "pa". I knock on the door. He answers with a towel around his waist. I reach out to hug his fine ass. "Hey boy. I missed your silly ass.", I said. "Shut the fuck up. Nutt now. Fellowship later." He always had a way with his words. Jay had managed to push me away from embracing him. In a matter of seconds, he had dropped to his knees and had my dick out and was executing some of the BEST sloppy top I had ever had. My senses were heightened, as we were still in the doorway of his apartment. "Aiight. Let me come inside so we can do this.", I whispered. He said nothing. Kept sucking as if his life depended on it. I looked a mess. Sweats and tennis shoes. A hoodie and Yankees baseball cap pulled down over my dome. Not really recognizable, but still wanted to come in the apartment. Again, I told Jay to stop so I could come in. Bitch still feasting. I started to pull my shit out of his mouth. He grabbed my dick, looked up at me and said, "Nigga I'll fuck you up". Went right back to sucking for his life. Who was I to disregard this man's life??? Not to mention the fact that the shit was hot. I soon forgot where we were and focused on letting Jay deep throat the shit out of my dick. I was biting my lip and moaning, fucking his face and he was moaning, and telling me how much he missed "his papi's dick". It seemed like the more he called me 'pa' or 'papi', he turned himself on even more. Jay grabbed my balls and started sucking my dick with purpose. I was getting ready to nutt, and needed to be inside, as I am quite the vocal brutha when I cum. I heard a door from an upstairs apartment. "Jay, someone is coming." I tried to push him forward, inside the apartment. "Don't be a bitch, papi". When he said that, I got pissed and more aroused at the same time. At that moment, I showed him what a 'bitch'was. I grabbed the back of his head and started fucking his mouth, with no regard to his throat, and the fact that he was gagging. Jay was loving it, and I was too. He pulled his towel off and started jacking his own dick while being choked on mine. As I'm fucking that wet mouth, I notice a dude coming down the steps. He stops, looks, and continues to stare at us. The shit is turning me on. Jay pulls my dick out long enough to say, "I'm thirsty papi". Right then, my balls tighten up, my legs start shaking, and I'm about to nutt. Suddenly, I explode in his mouth, nutting up the back of his throat. Jay keeps sucking, and he's moaning just as loud as I am. I saw the cum from my dick ooze out of his mouth onto my dick. Shit. That was worth having an audience and even waiting a month. The stranger from upstairs went on down the steps. Jay finally stood up and said "Well hello stranger." Very funny!! We went inside, cuddled, talked, and fucked for another three hours. My dick is sore. But that's my nukka.....Jay with the tatts.