33. The Guy with Four Jobs. I told him: “Let’s get to know each other before we have sex. I want things with you to be different.” I sat on his lap and looked in his big, brown eyes. He told me about his past and his imminent divorce. We laughed, a lot. Then, because we lack self-control, we had sex anyway.
17. The Barber. Big, big flirt. A great build. While admiring my skin and the thrill of being with an Indian woman for the first time, he called me “morena.” Unmatched me after I made him dinner.
I didn’t want to care about meeting people’s expectations of how I should think, feel and act. But of course, it hurt to know that people who had never been in my position had specific ideas about the amount of time that should pass before I opened my heart (or legs) to another person. I plotted for five months before my first encounter.
In looking for eligible sexual partners with the skills and passion to meet my needs, I tried to find a bright side. I skipped entertaining them over dinner and drinks, opting for an open discussion via text about my rules. It had to be safe and consensual. I am nurturing and open-minded, and wanted to feel respected.
35. The Lab Scientist. He laid me down on the couch and caressed me for a very long time. He began with a gentle approach, but soon made it clear that his confidence and knowledge would leave me speechless. Perhaps he’s the best I’ve ever had.
For the short-term, and while my grief prevents me from planning too far ahead, fleeting connections and temporary gratification bring me great comfort. Finding any sort of genuine pleasure after the sudden loss of my favorite person feels triumphant. Without Jacob, it has been hard to celebrate my victories. He did everything in his power to bring me happiness, and in his absence I am finding a way to make my own. I’m confident that he would be proud of me for paving a path to survival, however taboo my approach.
12. The Entrepreneur. The first time was electric, magical, wild. The second time, he acted overly comfortable in my house and helped himself to a shower without asking whether I was satisfied. I wasn’t. He’s the only one that has made me feel used. I prefer getting what I want.
When yuh dead and gone wha deh skont yuh care
Iman like the " lit joint" part.