There are very few things in a relationship that I can guarantee. I remember someone asking me if I could ever give my boyfriend another chance if I caught him cheating on me, and while I didn’t say yes I honestly couldn’t say “NO,” either. I just said, “I don’t know.” But about 2 things I do know for sure: 1) Once he blatantly puts his hands on me – IT’S OVER, and 2) I could NEVER knowinglybe the “other woman”.
They say never say never, but I just did. And it’s not entirely because I think us females should stick together (although we should), or even because I got good morals (although I do). Real talk? I just don’t like to share!
And this is for several reasons.
For one, I’m way too prideful for that shit. I refuse to let a man have the satisfaction of fucking both me and another chick at the same time. The fuck I look like giving him that good-good when someone else just did the same? I’m not the Queen of Kama Sutra but I believe every self-respecting woman should treat their body like it’s a motherfucking wonderland and be shady on who they let go down the rabbit hole. In my opinion, you can have sex with more than one person at a time but still be selective.
Second, if I’m fucking you, most likely I’m affectionate with you, which means most likely I have feelings for you – even if just a little bit. And that’s my biggest problem (or maybe to some, blessing). I am an emotional creature. I’m sorry, I can’t help it. I have this stupid thing called a vagina. It’s extremely hard for me to separate lust and like. I’ve tried, and it worked for about 2 days. It’s not that I catch feelings easily, it’s more like I ain’t fucking with you unless I’m feeling you to begin with. And this is not good if the dude you are feeling … is feeling all up on someone else.
I’ll share my clothes, my shoes. My perfume, and my MAC fluidline. Give you my jacket and the last $20 in my wallet. MAYBE even the last bite of spicy shrimp and cheesy grits on my plate. I said maybe lol. But never my man. Call me old fashioned, call me boring, call me stingy. I’m stingy with my kisses, with my hugs, with my sex, and with my feelings. If I’m writing you cute ‘lil messages on post it notes and sticking them on the tv for when you wake up after I’m gone, if I’m dropping you off lunch, if I bought you a gift for no reason other than to make you laugh when you open it, if I’m sending you pic texts of me making funny faces that I’d only let you see me making – I’m doing all these things only for you. I’m sure the chauvinistic pig in a man feels that there’s more than enough of them to go around, but I’d want him to be stingy too.
‘Cuz just as much as I don’t want to be the other chick, I don’t want to be the “main” either. I want to be the ONLY.