because sometimes, you do it to a girl…

I have spent 5 months of my life dating a girl.


A girl.

She is so pretty that it makes your heart break.

She is thoughtful, and understanding, and compassionate, and

In essence, she is everything that I am not.

Anatomically, we have all the same shit.

Boobies, check.

Girlbox, check.

I like fancy clothes. She likes fancy clothes. Different,
fancy, but fancy, nevertheless.

I like eyeliner and mascara. She likes eyeliner and mascara. Different brands, but eyeliner and mascara, nevertheless.

Mind you-

I’ve never really been attracted to women.

I can’t remember there ever being a time when I have looked at a woman and thought, “My land, she could get it.” Ever.

Conversely, the thought occurs to me regarding men 12-14 times a day.

And those are the days when I stay indoors.

But there she was—so pretty, so thoughtful, so well-intended…

Who was I to say “No?”

Who was I to accept, unthinkingly, this compulsory societally-imposed manufactured standard of human sexuality?

Sexuality was fluid, was it not?

Kinsey Scale and all of that bullshit.

And maybe this was different than everything else.

Because, in all of her compassion, in all of her thoughtfulness, in all of her well-intendedness, she was more than happy to fall back when I took to my moods.

She didn’t complain when I fell silent, or cut short her questions; when I corrected her on grammar or points of order when I felt her wrong.

She didn’t utter a hint of complaint when everything had to be my way, when I said “No” where she would have said “Yes.”

She was nothing, if not accommodating, and accepting.

And, in the beginning, I didn’t mind us being around each other constantly, because she so easily molded herself into my stark world. If an unbreakable silence was the order of the day, she was still. If it was my manic and incessant chatter that colored an empty afternoon, she was attentive and engaging.

She didn’t read the books I read or watch the cable news I preferred, but she was sweet.

She was more an appreciator of jokes than an author of them, but I was at home with my shtick and her rejoining laughter.

And sexually—sexually I was all in. I’m a far cry from prudish, and have certainly engaged in the more unseemly elements of heteronormative sex, so nothing freaked me out. I was down for whatever. And it was good.

And for a while—a quiet, contented while—I was satisfied to let the earth, and indeed, my life, fall away, if, but for one blissful moment, and enjoy the novelty of her. “…and possibly… the thrill / of under me you/quite so new…” as cummings would say.

Here’s the thing—

Failed heterosexual or no–

The fact remains—

My basic, sad, elemental truth is—

That I am a monster.

A devourer of men (and apparently the occasional woman).

I’m all about confronting truths, you see.

I’m not built for sustaining ever-lasting unions with people.

I’m selfish.

And perhaps—even a little bit cruel. Not because of words or sheer abuse of action, mind you.

But because I’m not unhappy.

Neither with my present state or circumstance.

And monsters should be unhappy right?—

Cast out from all good society, grumbling irascibly under their breath, skulking about, ever-present grimace on their goblin-y faces.

We’re not.

We walk among the decent, and the upright.

We laugh gaily (pun intended), and make you comfortable, and you trust us when you shouldn’t.

In the ten years that have comprised my active romantic life, I have never not divulged the truth of my makeup to anyone I’ve been involved with.

And no one’s ever believed me—
Until it was too late.






11 Responses to “because sometimes, you do it to a girl…”

  1. 2 Boondoc
    March 20, 2011 at 12:55 am

    no but seriously… pics. or video. i’m actually good with either one.

    and no one will ever believe you when you tell them you’re an asshole. they always see it self-aggrandizement. you’re saying that to project a dangerous aura about yourself. until the day they see you laughing at someones half assed suicide attempts and making you not play Aaliyah’s “Try Again” at loud ghetto nigger volume.

    so in closing… pics. or video. your choice.

  2. March 21, 2011 at 2:18 am

    great post. very introspective.

  3. 5 sourpatchkid
    March 21, 2011 at 4:02 am

    you’re consistent. and you don’t discriminate. what more can a guy or girl ask for?

  4. March 21, 2011 at 6:19 pm

    I have a theory about “on-it” black girls and how this type of relationship is a common thread and recurring theme amongst your sect in the current era. I’m imagining that it is somewhat akin to what (black) men were doing in the 1940’s when the real intellectuals had all taken it up the batty or at least tried it once, and weren’t ashamed. Do you think that my theory can be linked to Alain Locke and Langston Hughes and James Weldon Johnson and all that? It is just a theory right now, though. There are still some kinks in it: like why is it homothuggin’ today instead of the homo-post-renaissance sect? I’ve really been working on this for a long time. Can you help me out?

    • 7 gannsberg
      March 21, 2011 at 6:59 pm

      Coop, you know you stupid right??? Stop trying to over-analyze homo-thuggery! lol

      • March 21, 2011 at 7:20 pm

        “These niggas is gay.” -Riley Freeman

        That shit was pure coon foolery! Now mind you I don’t believe that one encounter for a female puts you into a special category, at all. But if you are willing to let someone stick something in your butt one time… I mean I don’t know too many women that are willing to let that pass.

        I know that there is a double standard but that homothuggin’ male lovin’ is not the business. A woman with the same experience (even minus the thuggin’ part) sees her stock go up. I’m just sayin’.

  5. 9 duece2000
    March 22, 2011 at 7:02 pm


  6. March 23, 2011 at 10:45 am

    LOVE. I definitely feel more comfortable with women than with men. It’s just the way it is.

  7. 11 Yem
    April 6, 2011 at 6:19 am

    We don’t talk nearly enough! xoxo

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a history of my meanderings….


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