I haven't been feeling like myself lately. Somewhere along the drive from the Midwest to Georgia I lost my identity. The same Genesis that was a frequent church goer now makes frequent trips to the liquor store. Judy and I visit a different service every Sunday in hopes of finding a home church. Sadly, our Atlanta Church Tour has proven to be unsuccessful. I can't really find a church that I can connect with. I'm not sure if it's because I miss my home church or because I've fallen so far from glory that I'm unable to feel comfortable around other believers. My light is no longer shining brightly like theirs is. Mine is kind of flickering like ol' dude from The Last Dragon when he was about to fight Bruce Leroy. I need Jesus more than ever right now!
My actions over the course of the past few weeks have been completely and utterly reckless. Although Jay-Z's tongue seems to be a pleasurable weapon of mass destruction, I shouldn't have allowed him to taste me so quickly. I've done some pretty off the wall things in my life but giving my body to a "stranger" takes the cake. I really like him but I'm afraid his image of me has been distorted. The other day I didn't respond to his Good Morning text so he followed up with a message that read: " Lol. I'm used to hearing from you in the morning so when I don't, I think you twerked and drank the night away". I was so embarrassed. Even though he began his text with an official "lol", which is normally used to numb the effect of the upcoming blow, my conscious was still disturbed. He can't be blamed for his ill perception of me because that's what I've been putting out in the atmosphere. I've drank about 15 bottles of wine in the 7 weeks I've been here. And the fact that he knows I take pole and floor dance classes every week is not helping either. I yearn for his acceptance but I believe my ratchetness is going to run him away sooner or later. In an attempt to try to avoid the future pain and embarrassment of losing him, I've been occupying my mind and my time with other men.
The last time I partied at Edgewood, my soror introduced me to her boyfriend's fraternity brother. He's tall with chocolate skin and dimples. He also has a strong, square chin that is reminiscent of a Super Hero's. I'd sign up to be Klark Kent's damsel in distress any day. Apparently he had been asking my soror about me since the first time we met. She knew I was curious too so she set up a little get together for us to accidentally run into each other again. As soon as we locked eyes I knew I was in trouble. I have a horrible sweet tooth and chocolate has always been my choice of indulgence. Klark poured me a drink then poured on the charm. I could tell that he's never been tamed by a woman and the idea of that challenge thoroughly intrigued me. After a few drinks we ended up tasting each other's lips. The shenanigans surely continued for the rest of the night. There I was in the middle of the club kissing, grinding and rubbing on this chocolate man. He took my hand and moved it slowly down the imprint in his jeans. I felt like the Energizer Bunny because my hand kept going and going and going. He's blessed! I couldn't help but fantasize about all of the dope decisions that I could make with this third leg that I just discovered. The lack of discretion was somewhat alarming. Why was I so comfortable being "that" girl? Is this who I've become? I often feel like I'm taking selfies in a dirty, cracked mirror. My image tainted and my confidence is shattered. Unfortunately they haven't invented the filter that can cover up emotional scars yet.
"I'm only a Sunday church party girl in a twisted ménage trios with a director and a rockstar!"
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