I spoke to YMK on Monday night.
As soon as he heard my voice he said, “What’s the matter?”
“I miss you.”
“I miss you too.”
We shared a few warm words, and I told him that I really started to feel that it’s may be a few weeks before we can talk on the phone, and that you know, the longest we’ve gone without seeing each other was about ten days, but we’ve at least talked every few days.
He told me his mother is hustling trying to get TSTT to put their telephone line in.
Didn’t I tell you? His mother and I have had a few conversations. Let’s say, we’ve communicated about things to help him achieve his stated goals. I told her I thought he had a lot of potential, and she said she knew. We talked about him getting the phone line into their house, so we could both work on projects together and I could begin to teach him more about the business and he help me by learning.
She likes me. I can tell.
“Don’t worry, I know that every great man you see has a better woman grafted on to his spine,” she told me. I took it as a compliment.
For me, I can tell you, the kind of sharp, hungry instincts he has for survival and his sometimes turkish behaviour, is something well suited for business. He has the kind of nose for it.
We have had these long conversations about business, web development, Sunhead and our projects. It’s kind of freakish, but since 2001, he’s been working on this magazine idea, and the parallels in our experience have been quite pointed. At least to me.
We talked about getting involved with one another’s projects and building business(es) together. I remember once when we had one of our deadly serious, pragmatic conversations and I asked him what he saw for us down the road. He looked me dead in the eye, pulled his goatee and said, “I see a lot of money and work.
“Not in a meal ticket kind of way, don’t think that. But I see us working together and making a lot of money doing it.”
“Isn’t it weird that I’ve been trying to get Sunhead off the ground for years,” I asked, “And you come along and have the same sort of ideas and aspirations?”
I was telling him a little about the state of my mother’s family and how the stress of trying to remain calm and rational in the face of what my mother’s brothers and mother are doing to her, had me ready to get on the plane to England right now.
I told him I felt like killing someone. Mind you, you’ll see me make references to murder and violence, killing someone’s ass, beating them and shit, but I don’t actually plan to do any such thing.
So in this case at least, there’s very little I can do besides encourage my mother to ride out, to ride out of this place.
YMK said to me, “Don’t kill them baby. You leave that for me.”
“I miss you baby. I wish I could just go in a corner with you somewhere, smoke a joint and talk,” I said.
“I’m hustling baby. I’m going to hustle and try to get up to England fast, don’t worry. I’m going to keep my promise,” he answered.
“My poonkie wanted me to tell you she misses you too,” I added in a small voice.
“Hey, let’s not start that. I’m here by B and them fixing up the Mini,”
“Don’t you miss my poonkie?” I asked.
“Yes,” he almost groaned. “But I can’t go and stand up next to B and them with wood, and if you get me too horny, I’m going to harass everything out here.”
“No don’t do that baby,” I whispered.
“Baby, don’t worry,” he said.
“I’m not,” I answered. “I’m just really getting used to the idea that it’ll take months before I see you again; but I know in my heart, down in the marrow of my bones, everything is going to be alright.”
“I know. I feel that way too,” he agreed. “I just don’t want you to worry. As soon as we get the telephone line in, we’ll talk via MSN and e-mail, it’ll be cool. I’m working on getting myself organised to come. By the time you get there and start living and stuff, the time will fly, and I’ll be there.”
When we were hanging up, we blew each other kisses, a recent development in our telephone conversations.
There are still no open declarations of any kind, but there is a lot of warm expression nonetheless.
Like I said before, although it’s getting dangerously close, my love hasn’t come down yet. I think the day he steps off the plane and into my arms, he’ll walk right into my heart too.
I am terrified! What will his coming to England mean, I mean in the long run? I wonder what kind of relationship we will have, and how it will change us both.
I have these ideas, these fantasies, visions if you will. I see us sleeping in this darkened room with a window above the bed. I look up and can see snow falling outside. I burrow deeper to get close to him and his arms tighten around me automatically. He told me once, when I was still in Trinidad, that he saw us together in a bedroom, not sexing, just lying down and he described the room to me. It sounded very close to what I was seeing in my head.
I have other snatches of scenes as well: I see him standing in a kitchen, in a big, thick jacket with a hood. I see us laughing on a subway and play fighting on a dirty street with tall buildings.
I’m thinking that, if I were really fantasising it would be of far more romantic, less mundane things. Making fiery love and other typical romanticism. Instead, the things I see in my head, the images that float up to my conscious mind are mundane activities.
At least, he and I are on the same wavelength it seems, and he’s seeing himself not just with me, but in England with me. This is good I think.
I have been having the first in what I am assuming are going to be a series of lonely nights.
My pussy is doing her ‘thing’. She is throwing these heated tantrums that prevent me from sleeping. Truth be told, that isn’t the peculiarity of coming to Barbados or leaving for England or any of that. The last six weeks in Trinidad, I slept alone most nights and she was beginning to realise a slow weaning was occurring. I masturbated a great deal while staying with my father. Now, staying with my mother, there are fewer opportunities to seek relief, so my pussy is well demanding sustenance. Sustenance I cannot give her.
Or can I?
—–
Last night, RBB came by and took me to see “The Chronicles of Riddick” (which I enjoyed).
I told him about YMK. Although he told me he was happy I met someone I liked, he started drilling me. “How old is he?” “Does he fuck you good?” Does he lick your pussy for you?”
I flipped it on him, “So do you have a woman yet?”
He confessed he’d been seeing someone and I tried to grill him, but I don’t think my heart was in it, because he told me from up front, she wasn’t me, and he was still in love with me.
“Sometimes I think I was so wrong not to get you pregnant,” he said, and I could here deep regret in his voice. “I don’t know if it would have changed anything.”
I said so little, because I didn’t know what to say.
He started grilling me about YMK again. He was very jealous, but I thought he managed to hold it down very nicely and to be honest, it was kind of sexy. RBB and I broke up almost eighteen months ago, so for him to still be holding a torch for me was moving.
I found myself asking if I felt the same way about him. I don’t know. I still care deeply for and about him. He’s been one of my best friends for the last two or three years, however, the whole time we were together, in the back of my mind I was worried how YMK would feel if he knew I was out last night, flirting with my ex.
We kind of both had the urge to have sex. He kind of started it by telling me since I’ve left Barbados, he fantasises about licking my pussy, and he was quite ruthlessly asking me things like, “Would you let me put my tongue in it?”
After a couple minutes of this kind of teasing, he asked, “Has it started to twitch yet?”
Here’s the thing. It did twitch. Except, as much as I was thinking about RBB going down there and doing something, I was also thinking about the last time YMK licked my pussy and how I felt like he was pulling my soul out of my body.
In a way, I wanted RBB to lick my pussy for me. I really wasn’t horny, but I wanted to feel close to him again, because our thing was good. We had a lot of fun. Even when we fought, we laughed through most of it. I also missed him taking care of me and making sure I was okay. I loved him and I really did want things to work out between us.
We know that we won’t end up together, but you know we both have trouble letting go.
Here’s the kicker, several times during the evening, as we were laughing about the movie, or talking about things as we walked around, we both could sense that as much as we still liked each other, and the love between us was still there, but I was feeling as though our moment had passed. More than once I thought about YMK.
We flirted, played, it was almost like old times. Even then I think we knew nothing would happen between us. Or should I say, part of us wanted to go back to his apartment and screw, but I had a little conflict thinking about YMK. It wasn’t major, but I was thinking even if we did have sex, how would I feel? Would I feel so different? Would I be disappointed? Would it make me miss YMK more?
It was interesting, because later when I get up to England, I have no intention of taking myself out of the market. As much as YMK says he’s coming to England, I think it remains to be seen if he will do it. I cannot tell you the butterflies I get when I think about what it could mean if he does come.
No I plan to do as YMK insisted I do, I will go out and have fun. It doesn’t mean I’m going to start running down other men, or that I’m going to jump into bed with someone the first chance I get.
However, if I meet a guy I like and he asks me out, I won’t say no. I’m going to try and find a way not to let my whole world revolve around YMK coming up to England, and he and I getting our relationship going for real.
It’s not that I am dismissing him, or that I’m going to let go of the relationship. I just don’t want to put all my eggs in one basket. I am trying not to tell myself that it won’t be like that. That I’ll get up to London and I’ll meet guys and go out and have all that aforementioned fun, and I won’t pine for YMK at all.
Except I can’t seem to stop thinking about him.
At night alone in this double decker bed my mother bought, when my pussy lights up and starts asking for her playmate, it’s never fantasies of some other man that fills my head.
It’s memories that cause me to twist, hot and uncomfortable, pussy itching and twitching, setting me on fire.
I wonder how other men are going to make an impact on me, and how I am going to react to them and their advances.
What happens when I do meet someone I like? Will it be a case of me liking them, but really comparing them to YMK?
“sigh: RBB and I will always be friends, I will always care for and love him. I think we’ll probably be sweet on each other all our lives. I don’t think I mind, because RBB, despite his penchant for nagging, is a sweet, wonderful man and I always felt lucky to have him in my life.
He really wanted to fuck me on Tuesday night, but he restrained himself. He told me he didn’t want to fuck me in a bed he’d fucked another woman in. He felt that was disrespectful to us both. I’m inclined to agree with him.
He kept bringing up YMK, his youth, asking me if he likes to lick pussy, if he likes to lick my pussy; he asked me if he really likes me a lot and if I like him. He told me he’s glad I met someone I liked because he wants me to be happy. Then he asked me if YMK was going to come to England.
I kind of stopped answering his questions though. I never really answered the one about YMK coming to England, but I saw RBB’s jaw jut out. It’s a familiar expression, because he’s done it so many times when he’s quietly pissed off in his head.
“I have all these images of you with him in my head now,” he said to me.
What can I do for that. I tell the truth and I didn’t want him to hear from someone else, or to lie to him about what was going on with me in any way. So I’m not sorry I told him up front what was what. At least he can’t say I didn’t tell him.
We’re supposed to have a date tomorrow night, but I don’t know if he’s going to come through. He’s as likely to stay away as coming for me, so you know, I’ll have to let you know what happens.
Meanwhile, this morning I got up, thoughts of YMK rushed through my head. I lay there, caught between sleep and wakefulness and imagined he was there with me. I rifled through my many memories of waking up with him next to me and part of me just ached, because no matter how vivid my memories and my imagination, the bed was empty beside me, and my baby is hundreds of miles away.
I see him clearly in my mind. I see him with crystal clarity. I’m holding on to that image of YMK in my mind. It’s all I have of him to hold on to right now.
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