Cherie – Chapter 53 – Why I’ll Never Marry a Black Man

“Black women and white men aren’t the only diverse duo out there, but it’s something to chat about if you’ve ever been in that type of relationship.”

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Aside from the historical separation of black people and white people, there are a few barriers you should get out of the way in the present.

Words from Cherie herself.

I’m never going to marry a black man…

Why would I want to? Why would I commit myself to a lifetime of disappointment and misery? I don’t need a man to ruin my life; I can do that on my own without his help and with much less drama.

I’ve made up my mind to marry a white man because life is too short for you to live it hoping that you’ll find that one in a hundred black men who will be true to his word and won’t turn out to be a deadbeat.

White men are simple. They don’t have mothers from hell who expect you to visit their house so you can cook, clean, kneel and kiss their feet. They have boundaries and understand that marriage means a man leaves his father and mother and becomes one with his wife. Black mothers think marriage means a woman leaves her mother and father and becomes drafted into the family as an indentured slave.

White men are liberated. They don’t feel threatened by their woman earning more or having aspirations. A white man will have dinner ready for you when you come home late from work. He will have the children bathed and put to bed without being asked.
White men are faithful. You can trust that if he’s out late with his friends he’s not going to end the night having acquired a small house. You know that when he dies there won’t be any kids coming out of the woodwork making claims on his estate. White culture values monogamy, whereas black culture puts a premium on how many notches he has on the bed post.

White men value family and financial security. They invest in trust funds and leave an inheritance for their children. And oh the children! The caramel skin, the pretty brown eyes and the big, curly hair… I want gorgeous children! Have you seen those beautiful interracial family photos? I deserve that in my life.

It’s not that I hate black men. It’s that after more than two decades of being in relationships with black men, I’ve gone through enough grief for a lifetime. I want to be happy and for me that means not committing the rest of my life to a black man.

For a long time that’s how I felt about black men and that’s how many young black women feel today. We’ve seen our mothers cry over the hurt of discovering yet another affair and have witnessed them covering up the bruises in makeup. We’ve watched our sisters going down the same path, like history repeating itself. We have borne the wounds ourselves and are left with scars as reminders.

It’s hard to argue with experience when all a person has known is one side of the story. Hurt speaks way louder than platitudes like, ‘There are good black men out there. God has one for you.’ That’s not helpful. What is helpful is looking deeper and exploring why some black women feel like white men are the only viable life partners.

 

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Cherie – Chapter 52 – Happy Birthday

Life has it’s ups and downs. I know Cherie has been struggling with paying for school. But for the most part, I think everything will work out. I know she felt bad about asking me for money but I think that’s behind us now.

I mean, how bad is my life? I like to work. I like being busy and get bored when I’m idle. I enjoy my alone time. But I have an active social life.

All of my past relationships follow a similar path. A traditional path and they all failed in the same way. There was a pattern I was following and it always led to the same failure. So this time I’m doing something different and it’s working perfectly for my mind and lifestyle.

Cherie meets all of the criteria to be in a successful relationship with me. I think I’ve finally found the Rosetta Stone to a happy life with a woman for me.

  1. She’s on the right side of 30. We all know by now I love youth and beauty. I don’t care what anybody thinks about that. If you had the chance to drive an old Subaru or a new Maserati, which would be the obvious choice?
  2. She lives 40 miles away. There’ll be no swinging by, or stopping in. I live in the city and have no reason to own an automobile anymore. So I can’t really get out there to see her. I mean, I could, but where do I stay? She lives with her parents and she has a 6 year old son. Her sister lives there too, and I know there’s a couple of other little ones living there. She can’t bring me into that mix. At least not yet, and I’m fine with that.
  3. I only see her once or twice a month. That’s plenty for me. She’s so busy with work and school and son, there’s very little time to get down here to see me. I don’t need tons of girlfriend time. It’s too emotionally draining for me. Absence really does make the heart grow fonder. I really appreciate our limited time together. I’m not one of these men that needs a woman in his life all of the time. It’s just annoying.
  4. She’s a certified nymphomaniac. What guy doesn’t want this? A hot, young, fit babe that is deadly in the sack. She’s so orgasmic that you always feel like a virile beast when you’re making love to her. I’m not getting any younger and am a former hypersexual myself, so at my age I’m truly blessed to have a young lady who is always horny for me.
  5. She doesn’t want any more children. Okay, this is huge. This has been the deal breaker in my last THREE relationships. Cherie has been a parent for six years. You grow up fast when you have a baby or a small child counting on you for everything and not much assistance. I don’t want any more children, and this could end up being the ideal arrangement for me at last. All of these chicks I’ve been with have been in the same age range and they are still trying to figure out who they are. It’s sad that there’s this ridiculous extended adolescence in this country. But it’s almost always the same model. They go out and party, go out to dinner, go on trips and buy a bunch of designer shit in their twenties all while burning through a string of dudes. Then they finally attach themselves to some sap and marry him. His income helps neutralize and pay down her revolving debt. They get a house, a dog and then kids start happening. In 10 years they’ve either become roommates or divorced and he pays thousands of dollars in child support to her. Hopefully he doesn’t repeat the mistake again. Or… they live happily ever after!

Cherie is the perfect blend of the ingredients that make the perfect romantic cocktail to compliment my lifestyle. I just hope we can maintain this level. After college she’ll have to go to medical school, so for now… there’s no end in sight!

Anyway, I was sitting in Cavanaugh’s last Monday and thankfully realized that Cherie’s birthday was on Friday.

It has been a year since we had her birthday lunch at Misconduct Tavern. Back then I gave her a $20 gift card to Starbucks and some Godiva chocolates. I had only been dating her a month and didn’t want to set the bar too high. I remember her saying all she wanted for her birthday was to have sex with me. A week later we were holed up at the Club Quarters for 24 hours just banging away for the very first time. Man, that was an incredible day. We fucked like rabbits!

So I went to ProFlowers and ordered a dozen long stem roses in a pretty vase and a little box of chocolates for my love. They were delivered to her home and I’m positive she wasn’t expecting them.  So she squealed with delight.

Now I’m the one who owes her some birthday sex!

She’s 28 years old now! Let’s keep this relationship going, Cherie!

 

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Phicklephilly – Here We Go Again

WARNING: This Post Is NSFW

Go here to read it:

https://lapetitemort17.wordpress.com/2019/04/21/phicklephilly-here-we-go-again/

 

 

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Cherie – Chapter 50 – …Than to Receive – Part 3

Baby fell asleep after our fiery session. I’m a giver. I’ve always been since I was nineteen in LA.

NO. I’ve always been a giver and a pleaser since I was a kid. when you grow up feeling like a loser and an inferior shit… you always give. You are a twisted pile of insensitive parenting and you are your own weakness.

You’ll always please and give to everybody you know when you’re broken as a person. I’ve always been that person. The pleaser. The giver. Obsessed with giving.

I remember when my father would say to me “Don’t be a victim.” The crazy irony is that his very behavior in how he treated me made me into the victim I have been my entire life. He gave me great lessons and taught me so much about life and I’m grateful for that. But his rage and behavior towards me over the years destroyed any self-esteem I could have ever cultivated to be the leader I could have been.

He would be pissed at my mom for her sexless stoic attitude and I would fail at school and he would rip me a new one instead of her. But I was just the fuse. The powder keg was him and she was the bomb.

He was the torch and she was the can of gas. They were a complete mismatch. The most terrifying moments in my life were at my father’s hands and words. He knew he could destroy a person with his tongue.

He took shameful pride in it.

His own mother. My Grammie. I loved her. She was an orphan that was given up because the family was too poor to keep her (More later) she once described her son… my father… as,  “The cow that gives the milk and then kicks the bucket over.”

I’m a middle-aged hyper-sexual. I’m like no one you know. Unless you’re best buds with David Duchovney. The needle on my sex drive has been cranked way back, but the demon still lives in there, but he’s cool.

I used to say that I was at war with my demons. But now we’re all on the same side.

Anxiety? Settle the fuck down. Depression? Oh, for fuck’s sake go out and do something!

How bad is my life?

Daughter Lorelei lives with me, I love her dearly and she’s turned out right. I’m writing these words and lovely Cherie’s is turning in my bed naked and beautiful while I take a break from the action to write this.

I love to see her sleep. I know her life is hard and I admire her mettle to go forth and succeed at 27. I also admire her love for me at my age. When she comes to my place in Rittenhouse  she can completely hide from the world. No work. No school. No kids. Just love, warmth romance and lots of mad sex.

Tomorrow we’re going to sleep in and have a delicious breakfast of whatever baby wants.

We’ll probably hit Midtown Diner because that’s where we started.

She’ll vanish on a train again and I’ll go back to work, errands and friends.

I need to maintain my relationship with Cherie. Because despite our differences and distance, I look at Cherie and see one word.

WIFE.

Okay, I know that seems scary and Lorelei would lose her shit but this lady seems that good.

Only time will tell…

 

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Cherie – Chapter 49 – Better to Give… Part 2

I draw the blue translucent curtains shut. Because tonight will carry us both into tomorrow.

I’ve lived a charmed life. It’s been good. I’ve had opportunity because of my skin, intelligence and wit. I’ve succeeded because of my dedication and hard work. I’m an overachiever.  A relentless sales guy that gets off on the kill. But I have natural ability in everything I do. You either kill it or get lazy the first chance you get because everything once you get it comes so easy to you because of your deadly abilities.

You only have that power because of your wiring and your upbringing. If you beat down a bright sensitive, odd child he will either become a CEO, a serial killer, or an artist. I’m sure there are a few other characters in there but I think you get it. (I’m the artist!)

That’s me. Here I am in my bed with a beautiful young woman again. It’s like I keep getting free passes from God to just keep going on the fun ride again and again! I don’t really know why. No one else I know gets these sort of splendors.

But fortune favors the bold.

And this frightened, anxiety ridden mess has run from his fears but then paused. I turned and slowly walked towards them and conquered them all. Without drugs. The drugs just fuck you up more. Surround yourself with good people and march forward toward your fears.

 

Cherie tells me we’ve talked enough but she wants to be naked.  She’s wearing the classic criss cross black body suit without a bra. (See: Cherie – Chapter 4 – Ribbons) Hot as shit. I love seeing the swing and curve over her breasts through that mesh top. She’s telling me some story about her and her sister in a store where they’re laughing and I reach my fingers through that criss cross lace.

She pauses and closes her eyes. I feel the soft supple swell of her breast. I go just a bit further and greet her stiffened nipple between my index and middle finger.

“Go on with your story.”

“I forget.” (smiles) “Wait I remember!”

I withdraw my hand but hold her close.

“My sister always threatens me that she’s going to steal my car and take it out.”

“What do you do?”

“I tell her that if she ever fucking takes my keys and steals my Saab I will call 911.”

“Oh my gosh!”

“Yea. I tell her that I will tell the cops that a black woman has stolen my Saab and I am a white woman and she has a gun!”

“Are you trying to get your sister killed?’

“No, Silly! It’s just a bit we do between each other because we know that’s how it is in this country. They’d pop a cap in my sister’s ass and kill her if that ever happened.”

Cherie giggles. I love comedy. Especially edgy next level borderline comedy, but there’s a dark truth in her humor.

“Well I’m tired of talking to you and I want to get naked.”

“No complaints here, dear.”

“But I’ve been at the hospital and school all day so I’m going to rinse off.”

“Okay bayba.”

Cherie gets up, kicks off her boots and pulls down her jeans.  Now she’s down to the one piece criss cross delish and a pair of purple panties.

She’s looking gorgeous and I can’t resist. I leap from the bed and go to her. We kiss and I hold her in my arms. I reach between her brown thighs and curl my finger between the two snaps holding the body suit together at the crotch.

I reach behind her because I don’t want to rip her little garment. I love this outfit. I have to be careful. I hold the back of the outfit that is basically a thong that is a cotton bridge between her delicious ass cheeks.

Cherie has a glorious but proportionate posterior. Not Kardashian, but athletic standard black girl butt.

It’s lovely.

I kiss her. She kisses me back. We miss each other. I’m happy and feel her love and heat in my arms. Out of everyone in the world, this is my girlfriend. I can’t believe at my age I’m still able to get a girlfriend half my age this pretty.

Well I kinda do.

Apparently, game goes a long way, baby.

“Can you close the drapes? Because you’re about to strip me naked.”

“Oh course my dear.”

I draw the blue translucent curtains shut. Because tonight will carry us both into tomorrow.

I hold my love close and the snaps at the bottom of her outfit yield to my force and open with the sound that is their name.

I gently pull the body suit over her body and from her head. (You never want to mess up a black woman’s hair…EVER)

Now she’s nude in front of me and I turn her around to the full length mirror in the corner of my bedroom. Given to me by former girlfriend, Michelle! (See: Michelle – A Brand New Day)

I’m still fully dressed but Cherie is completely nude and vulnerable. I like the idea that she can see herself in the mirror and I’m behind her. Clutching her breasts and kissing her neck. My right hand leaves her firm breast and caresses her belly down to the moist junction between her lovely thighs.

I touch her there and she jumps. Her softest spot and her most durable. I remove my hand and continue to kiss her neck.

“I’ve been at school and at the hospital all day. I need to rinse off.”

I regain some composure. I have to. I know what’s about to happen in the next 30 minutes.

I release my lady.

 

Living here on a weekly basis with my daughter Lorelei, it almost seems alien being alone here with a beautiful young woman and making mad love to her when she gets here.

Lorelei is great with telling me when she’ll be here and when she won’t. She’s off at Electric Halloween with her boyfriend this weekend. But she ALWAYS tells me when she’ll be rolling in and out of here. I love that because I never have to worry she’ll come upon some sort of “We were just working out doing nude yoga together in my bedroom scenario.”

Cherie heads to the shower.

 

Later, Cherie gets to her knees and is digging through her bag for whatever sundries she needs for this delayed mission. I’m standing next to her and I am lit up with blood lust.

This is how cool Cherie is: She is digging through her bag looking for her skin cream for after her shower and she gently places her hand on my crotch. It’s obvious I’m chubbing and firing up the Millennium Falcon to go, but that hand is an immediate soothe.

“I feel you… I’ll be right back, honey.”

Cherie hops in the shower. (I would have done love dirty. I don’t care) I’m pacing the bedroom like the cat that I am and putting on ‘ Music for Lovers’ on Pandora. (Hey I know it’s cheese but I like the stuff they play on there. Check it out!)

She comes out of the bathroom and gets in the bed and hops under the covers.

“I’m chilly!”

“You’re beautiful.”

“I love you honey.”

“I love you too…Guess what?”

“What, dear?”

“Take me…Now.”

 

I’m going to leave it to the beloved band Queen to describe the events of our night together.

 

 

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Cherie – Chapter 48 – Better to Give… Part 1

I’m in Awe…

Baby is determined to try to get down here this weekend. I think she’s shooting for Friday night when I finish at the salon. She says she has to go back around 11am or noon on Saturday, which is choice. Because that gives me time with her Friday night into Saturday for some greatest hits. I like this, because once she goes I’m off for the rest of the day from everything.

My daughter tells me we need paper towels for the kitchen. I’m a little curious about this because my vegan daughter Lorelei now owns my kitchen and uses all of the paper towels. I never touch a single one. But as a child who is nearly twenty-one she thinks all household stuff is paid for by parents.

I love her and I’m fine with it. I’m happy she’s my daughter.

I go to Walgreen’s and pick up two rolls of paper towels, a can of Axe body spray, (Phoenix. You’re welcome Axe or… I’m sorry Axe) A bag of kettle corn, (Cravings lately. Unexplained. Just love that stuff. It’ll pass.) condoms and a pack of cigs.

As I approach the counter I hope the cashier doesn’t put some sort of story together based on my purchases today…

Oh, this guy needs Axe body spray to attract a mate, and then he’s buying condoms in the hope he closes, and then he’s buying cigarettes to smoke after the sex. 

Or… He will eat the entire bag of kettle corn watching Netflix alone tonight when he fails miserably at the bar, using the paper towels to mop up his tears.

 

I’m at the salon on Friday and it’s quiet. A welcome repose from Thursday. It was busy yesterday night. I loved it. We made money, some of my favorite people stopped in, and the night flew by.

Cherie is on the train and on her way down to the city for the night. I lock up at 8pm and settle the drawer. She’s never been to the new salon. She texts me to ask whether she should come to me or head to my house.

I give her the address and tell her to come to the salon. I lock the doors and turn off the lights in the hallway. I hit the flashlight feature on my phone and head down the steps. The door downstairs opens and it’s Cherie!

She’s already off the train and here! I come down and give her a hug and a kiss. I’m so happy to see her. She looks great as always. Dark locks and sexy lips and hips. I’ve missed her. I’ve been thinking about her a lot this week.

Once I knew she confirmed for Friday night my hunger for her grew.

If you’ve been reading this blog you already know that I’ve accepted the fact that we can’t always be together. That’s just the way it is now. Cherie’s in school, working at the hospital, and taking care of her son. Just a full schedule.

But somehow love survives and thrives between us. A playful sweet love that has been built on a rich history over the last year. Our one year anniversary just happened two weeks ago. You would think that would be a time for great celebration and jewelry.

But she was in class and then at CHOP (Children’ Hospital) doing blood work for sick kids, and I was in meetings with an app company about selling their products in this market.

Cherie had to grow up fast in her twenties. Once you have a kid, that changes you if you’re made from anything good. Cherie is. She said to me tonight her son’s father doesn’t spend enough time with him and the support is light. I told her that I thought her ex had a good job and made decent money. She said he has five kids from two different ex-wives so he’s basically broke all the time.

“He’s white, right?”

(Laughs) “Yea. But my son is last on the list when it comes to support or time.”

“I’m sorry. But I’ve been divorced. Support is based on how many overnights he has with the child and how much income he earns. You can go to court and make him pay. It’s just a math equation.”

“You forget that we never married over the time we were together. There’s nothing in place for me to enforce it. I’m basically a single mother.”

By this point I’m lying next to her on my bed. We’re just talking before anything happens here. Her beautiful dark, almond eyes glisten with tears.

But no tears fall. She looks at me calmly describing her plight. She only blinks between statements.

My girlfriend is resolute.

“If my son’s father is going to fail and continue to fail as a father to his son with me, then I have to be the best mother I can to him.” She breathes deeply, never taking her eyes from mine. I see in her a strength I don’t know in anyone else I know. She means what she says and there’s no other choice for her. Cherie knows that because she’s lived in a world where she can count on no one but herself.

Her mom, dad and sister are great, but at the end of the day she knows she’s really the only one in her son’s life. This has been the painful and triumphant journey of many black women through history.

She’s beside me, her head supported by her hand on her side. I am lying on my back looking up to her. I realize in that moment, I truly am looking up to her.

She’s calm, and her words are sure. I love her. I love her so much in this moment. Looking upon her sheer will to survive.

I’m in awe.

 

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Cherie – Chapter 47 – Pay It Forward – Part 2

After our first amazing sex session, she usually dozes off. I am just the opposite. I feel energized and a bit euphoric. I tell her I’m going to go downstairs and try doing the laundry again. It’s probably 10pm by now.

I grab the bag and head down. The dryer is empty but there is a finished load of wet towels in the washer. Damn it! Did one of my neighbors throw in a load of towels and fall asleep? I could be a dick and just pull out the wet towels and place them on top of the dryer and just play through with my laundry. I do just that, but have an idea.

I put my stuff in the washer, add detergent, and load the $1.75 in quarters into the vending mechanism and hit the start button.

I go back upstairs and get some more quarters, a piece of paper and a pen. I try to collect as many quarters as possible on a regular basis because my daughter is always stealing them and doing her laundry on a weekly basis. I don’t mind!

I go back downstairs. I load the pile of wet towels into the dryer. I have just enough quarters to do their load and then do mine. After that I’m out of quarters. I pay for their dryer time and push start. I go back upstairs and sit quietly at my desk and do some writing while my girlfriend peacefully sleeps.

Forty minutes later I go back downstairs. My was is done and I check on my neighbor’s towels. They’re dry!

I fold all of their towels and stack them neatly on top of the washer. I then compose the following note:

Hello Neighbor,

I really needed to do my laundry tonight. I couldn’t wait any longer, so I paid it forward and did yours too! – (My initials)

I tossed my laundry into the dryer and paid for it with my last seven quarters.

I went back upstairs and felt really good about myself. I just thought of a great way to really do something nice for someone for under two dollars! Try to think of way you could do something that thoughtful for someone for under two dollars! I can’t think of anything. If you can, let me know in the comments section.

An hour later I go back downstairs and my laundry is finished! I bag it up and head upstairs. My neighbor’s towels are still stacked on the dryer along with my note. Mission accomplished!

I drop the bag on the floor of my bedroom and slink beneath the sheets beside my love, and fall asleep after my busy day.

The next morning we wake up pretty early. Actually Cherie woke up before I did and instead of my alarm, she awakened me with her mouth. What a glorious way to start a Sunday!

We don’t have to get up yet, so we decide to get it on. I love morning sex, because you’ve had some rest and can really get going.

“Do you want me to wear a condom?”

“Do you want to have sex with me?”

“Yes.”

Cherie: (Gives me the look)

Me: (Immediately suits up)

It’s wonderful and hot has always. Cherie is an orgasmic machine. I like this new condom rule. I feel completely safe and so does she. It actually turns me on more that I’m going to blast away inside her like I’m supposed to without any pesky new humans showing up in nine months that I have to raise.

 

We shower and head out to breakfast. Her Saab is parked down at 19th and Bainbridge so I decide to take her to Honey’s Sit n’ Eat down at 21st and South st. It’s a little rustic breakfast and lunch spot that serves really good home style meals. They accept cash only. Usually this place is slammed on the weekends but it’s early and we get seats at the counter. Which is good because we’re near the back and it’s much quieter.

Staff was on point, food was delicious and there were no issues. The place is a little pricey but Cherie never asks for anything and I’m delighted to take her our to a really hearty breakfast.

Here’s the coolest, most amazing part of the meal. (Other than my beautiful baby) When I walked in music was quietly playing in the background. I like when they play the music at a low volume. I don’t like a noisy restaurant and don’t want to have to shout during my meal. Highway Star was playing by Deep Purple. I like that, but every song after that is from Black Sabbath’s second album Paranoid. Then they started playing songs from their third LP, Master of Reality. I’ve never been in a restaurant or a bar in my life, (and I’ve been in plenty!) that played that much classic metal by a single artist non stop. It was glorious. Because it was played at low volume it was if it was all for me as a bonus. I didn’t know I could be more happy than after a night and morning with Cherie, but that did it.

Cherie said she was sufficiently stuffed. (poor thing, 3rd time in 24 hrs!)  I only had a breakfast sadwich so I was

Cherie: “I’m stuffed.”

Me: “Aww poor thing. Feeling stuffed three times in 12 hours!”

Cherie: (Gives me a wry smile)

I happily pay the bill, and out we go. We get to her Saab and she drives me to the salon.

“When you get home text me so I know you’re safe, dear. Thank you so much for coming down to see me. It was wonderful! I love you, Cherie.”

“I love you more.”

 

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