Fuck Me Like a Gentleman

Last Thursday, I had the honor of performing for some beautiful Houstonian melanated people on the Nawfside. I don’t think I ever tell yall how much I love my people…lies…but not nearly enough ✊🏿. They’re the same ones I hung out with earlier this summer. You might remember from my insta-stories if you follow me on Instagram.

And for those who did not realize, yes, I am spoken word talented…sometimes. Spirit has given me some good pieces…they just don’t come that often (I’m working on that, too 👀). When I host people be expecting me to spit all evening and I be like, “Wait, wait, wait, I ain’t got but three poems; can I save at least one for next time?”….😆

I mean, I will be up in here hosting every OTHER Thursday for Slowed Down Thursday

(Warning:…
Shameless
Plug
ahead)

I performed one new piece and another piece that I’ve performed only a few times, but has been well received each time I’ve performed. The piece is entitled, “Fuck Me Like a Gentleman”; I call it my multidimensional woman poem. The last time I performed it was in Hollywood, FL On the B-Side with Ms. Ingrid B. ObbieWest was in the audience with his beautiful, deeply melanated Self ✊🏿. #hesofine

That man makes my vagina do kegels which intern causes my uterus and fallopian tubes do jumping jacks. And just to be clear, this particular reaction is completely energetic. Don’t worry about it if you don’t understand. Chile, let it be. You know what they say, “The Blacker the berry; the brighter the light.” No? That’s just me. Anyway, it’s the truth.

So last Thursday, I performed my multidimensional woman poem and it got the kind of standing ovation that I wasn’t really expecting. A 62 year old man sitting in the rear of the crowd near the entrance of the club stood up out of his seat and proclaimed quite loudly into the crowd that my poem made his dick hard. Yes, he used those exact words. He later confided that he doesn’t get aroused very often.

I’m definitely still high off of that fanning moment. My work has the power to arouse without touch. Not as though I didn’t already know that; a testimony is everything. It raises credibility…if you ever doubted me. Please See Audre Lorde’s Uses of the Erotic.

Hopefully, all of you reading will get to see me perform once these tickets go on sale.

Fuck Me Like a Gentleman explores the various dichotomies of being a woman and respectability politics in a user friendly, easy to digest, and comprehensible format. It uses simple language with minimal complexities and ambiguities which I can overdo sometimes when I write. The piece was inspired by the way I desire to be treated in and outside of the bedroom. This along with the way I dress, speak, or the way I move in this world does not determine my respectability. As you can imagine, I’ve heard my poem interpreted from a variety of perspectives which has been the most interesting thing of all.

How can what I’m saying be so different than what you’re hearing? I’m still trying to process that part. 🤔

After I finished the poem, the entire room was quiet for a brief moment then the ladies in the room began to nod in agreement, insert standing ovation, and there were still men arguing whether or not this is something that can actually be done…😣

“Fuck that treating like a gentleman shit; I’mma treat her ass like an animal,” one man responded.

And that’s probably because that’s how you want to treat her, right. Not because that’s how she asked to be treated or even how she wants to be treated.

I had to tell him, “That’s the best advice I can give you, sir and that came from the source so pay attention.” I’m just glad he paused to even consider that statement.

That was amazing and not in a good way. Imagine, a woman is standing before you, telling you how she desires to be treated yet you still decide that you will treat her how you want or believe you should treat her for whatever reason you use to excuse your behavior. Somebody help me pick up my bottom jaw off the floor. Wow, just wow! 😮🤯

We have so far to go with just the basics of consent…then there’s communication, connection, intimacy…so many other things that factor into great sex. And if your woman/vulva owning partner is not having back to back…what I call rolling orgasms complete with aftershocks then I’m pretty convinced your sex is not as great as you think it is. Say want you want and I’ll say what I will (wield). #fightme

The sixty two year old gentlemen later joined me at the stage where the conversation took a deeper turn. But ya’ll gonna have to wait for that one… Subscribe and to find out how that one went.

Pretty Pink Lotus Bud for sex-positive spaces; #WomensOrgasmMatter; the sexually liberated woman, proheaux, sex magic

Enjoyed this post?
Subscribe to a sexually liberated experience

Pretty Pink Lotus Bud for sex-positive spaces; #WomensOrgasmMatter; the sexually liberated woman, proheaux, sex magic-a sex blog about feminine sexuality, relationships, and spirituality

When did you first recognize you needed consent?

The first time I knew I needed consent.

It was May 2013. I had received a judicial order to return to my residential state that accused me of endangering my children and removing them without parental consent. In the months prior to this, my mother had ascended, I’d given birth to my second child, and found myself in a volatile domestic situation that had led to my homelessness.

The world was a dark place and I was ready to find my corner and settle in.

The dark place

I can’t remember the exact date I met Mike. Rewind to a few hours prior to our meeting, my mother in law had arrived to pick up the kids. She hadn’t seen them in a couple of months and I was exhausted. I scheduled the hand off and had planned to take refuge beneath the warmth and darkness of layers of covers: quilts, comforter and anything else I could pile on in order to block out the world and sleep away my existence.

Just as I was settling into my dark and warm, woman-made cocoon, a voice in my head said, “Fuck this shit.” I immediately popped out of bed. Not knowing how long I’d be displaced, I had tried to conserve the last $200 in my checking account knowing there would be no more coming in due to my inability to work the job I had recently secured.

I decided instead to go get a nice pedicure and temporarily forget about the fucked up situation I was in. And it worked, for as long as I was there.

When the Universe has a change of plans

As I exited the nail shop, I didn’t actually want to leave. I didn’t feel like going back into my depression. I don’t like it there. I thought of staying to get more stuff done because a girl can spend all day in the nail salon with great purpose. Then I had to realistically re-assess my money situation.

I walked towards my step mother’s red SUV digging around in my purse for the key when a voice in my head which had never been so clear before that moment said firmly, “STOP.”

I stopped and continued to search for the key in pockets and creases of my handbag. Found them and right next to them were my sunglasses. I pulled them out and placed them on my face. Then a voice said to me, “Is that what you were looking for?” Only this time it wasn’t in my head. It was coming from Mike.

Mister, Mr. Mike

Mike had been loitering in front of the barbershop next door, casually scrolling through his phone. I looked over at him, smiled from behind my sun glasses, made some brief statements and continued to the car. I sat for a moment pretending to answer a text that hadn’t actually come through silently asking the Universe to send him over. I felt like it was a long shot just because by now I was already inside the car, but I desperately needed someone to talk to.

Imagine my joy and surprise when the guy who had once been standing outside the barber shop was now at my window. I’ve never been a fan of small talk…not really. The conversations started with a bit of small talk age, place of origin, marital status, things like that, then quickly escalated to me spilling the contents of my current tragedy.

Mike decided not to join me on my pity party. Instead, he made light of it and that made me smile uncontrollably. Then to me smiling so much he responded, “That is why I had to come talk to you. Your smile is so gorgeous.” More uncontrollable smiling followed. He asked me for my phone number. I recall him say, “You said yes so fast I thought it was a no.”

When did you first recognize you needed consent?

 

I can’t put my finger on it but it’s different

I’d never met anyone like him. He asked me out on odd outings. He was extremely soft spoken. Often I had to ask him to repeat himself. He had a calming energy and the sexiest swag I know to date.

After several dates, conversations, and hand holding sessions, I wanted to take things farther. Actually I wanted to take it further days prior but I was still adjusting to my new self and trying to exercise some self-control. Which is not something I’d had to do in such a long time. Mike made it easy though.

One day he called me up and asked me would l like to go out…he listed off a couple of places to which I said no to them all. He then asked if I’d like to get a room. I promptly responded affirmatively.

It had been a while since I’d had sex with anyone besides my soon to be ex husband and it had even been several months since that had even occurred. I was a lactating mess and a nervous wreck. Mike did not care. His energy said so.

Insert Consent [HERE]

We sat on the bed beside one another almost as if it were our first time and in some ways, it was his first time with me, my first time with him, our first time experiencing such a CONNECTION which is something I would later learn.

It was so funny because I was pretending to be deeply entrenched in what was happening on the television when he tapped me on the shoulder. I turned to face him and he said to me, “Do you like to kiss; Would you like to kiss me?”

I SMILED so hard it still hurts my face when I think about it. I could not recall a time before or after that any person has asked permission to access my body. That was the most AWESOME kiss ever in the history of my life. He’d actually asked before kissing me! That was such a huge, “WHOA!” moment for me.

I love you, Mike!

Now, there is such a thing as nonverbal consent and I’m really big and obvious when it comes to this type of consent. However, it was at this moment that Mike asked me for a kiss that I realize how much validation, security, openness, and vulnerability comes with certain verbal consent. How wonderful to feel both VULNERABLE and SECURE as a simultaneous emotion!

I still have the best orgasms with him.


Pretty Pink Lotus Bud Signature

 

Enjoyed this post?
Subscribe to a sexually liberated experience