Fire Juggling

So now that I’ve tamed my inner bitch well enough, I’m attracting a new set of guys and re-attracting old boyfriends who once took me for granted.  Hypatia is not just a good personal trainer, but a fabulous femininity coach as well.

This is all still so new to me though, that I’m afraid I might get myself into trouble.  This is a relatively small town, and news travels fast.  So in juggling my options, I have to take care not to lead anyone on, to get a reputation as a tease, but also not give too much and get a reputation as a hoe.  Exclusive slut, I can handle, but potentially easy, not a good thing to be known as especially if it’s not true.

Last night, I overplayed twice.  Since I was with his cousin, Slick actually cracked open his wallet and bought me a drink.  I was surprised, and enjoyed it very much.  The first overplay was in how much I enjoyed it.  It was a frozen passionfruit margerita…  The second overplay was when on the way out, I patted him on the shoulder and rubbed his back a little during the goodbyes and thanking him.

I didn’t think anything of the touch because we’ve done worse…so, so much worse.  I was hoping that it would seem platonic enough that he wouldn’t be able to tell if I had any lingering sexual feelings for him, or just saw him as a bro.  His whore chasing has put him in the doghouse with me, so I didn’t want to lead him on.  The path between him and me now, is paved with broken glass sprinkled with Icy Hot.  He’ll have to do better than a margerita to get back in my good graces.

Still, he thought I was up for it, so the SMS’s began.  To save myself, I had to point out the broken glass.  I informed him that my bed is still broken, and the conversation was basically that he could either buy me a new bed or consider me not convinced of his benevolence.  Since he broke it by sitting on it wrong (it’s a crappy bed, but still) he should get a new one.  If not, then he has no honor, and is not my type.

So that was the end of that, but it was just annoying to have to say.  It’s not the money, but the principle.  At the moment, since it’s a pretty and expensive bed, despite being a piece of crap, it’s being propped up by some books at the busted corner.  For him, even when I get a new bed, that one might as well be broken too.

Mind you, I didn’t say it in such harsh terms.  I focussed on the fact that he broke my heart, and that I’m hurt, etc.  Eventually he gave up.  See, when someone’s trying to play hard, you can get them to go away by talking about your feelings.

Anyway, after that, I got the long-time-no-see call from Cuz.  We decided to meet, and since there was nowhere to go at 0400 except the Brown, which would have been a bad idea, we went for a drive.  We talked, and we parked, and then a barrage of tongue, hands, and dick through pants hit me like a wave.

I haven’t been the only one improving herself.  Cuz went from being a big cuddly teddybear to a solid but not steroidal hunk of Arab velociraptor.  This is mainly due to our occasional conversations containing a few of my insane diatribes about natural dieting.  I felt a tinge of jealousy that men hot-ify faster than women on it, but that was overshadowed by my need to escape from the predator’s clutches before I got shagged up against his car.

So I’m gently fighting him, and ferociously fighting myself.  It was difficult.  It was necessary though.  He promised me the world if only…and I wished I was a whore, but I’m not.  If I became his mistress, I would have to live in the krayot (suburbs) and if we had any kids, they would have to be kept as secret from his family as me, or else his wife will take half.

They’re Christian Arabs.  I know that if I popped one out, his side of the family would cry about their son being a wicked sinner, just as mine would, but everybody loves grandchildren.  So if I was a whore, I’d do it.  I don’t like being the dirty secret though, and I don’t want to give his wife, who’s already done some “foileschtick” about money, any ammunition to screw him with.  So as much as I’d love to hit that, I can’t.

So, with some soothing words and female waffling and uncertainty, I wound things back down, only to have them escalate again a few times, but ultimately talked him out of hiking up my skirt.  Well, at least for now.

I should never have gotten out of the car.  At least in the car, there was the stick between the stick between us…but silly me, I had to pose for him to show off my progress.  I was nearly undone by my own vanity.

Roissy would be proud though.  After all, as the parting gift when our affair ended, I did refer him, and talk about game as a way of keeping his wife under better control.  He has been a good student…too good.

We get to our destination, and he tells me, “Get out of the car.”  We are in the middle of nowhere, and it would be a long walk even to the nearest place to catch a taxi.  I blinked and gasped a little with dread.  I didn’t get out of the car until he said it again.  Then I figured oh well, if I’ve got to walk in the dark then fuck this fucking motherfucker.  So I open the door and move to get out, and then he gets out with me, comes around to my side of the car, and tongue-hands-penis-tent.  I was too flustered to put up much resistance until my inner princess awakened from her dead faint to kick my rationalization hamster.

I have to keep my eyes on the prize though.  The prize is a guy who can handle me and didn’t screw his life so that he is under any woman’s control.  I need a free man.  If he’s married then whoever he’s married to needs to be afraid for her life if she tries to screw him.  (Hello Guns 🙂  )  It may be too late for Cuz unless I can teach him some crazy.  He needs some Muslim friends.  They could tell him how they do it in Manian.

So the search continues, and I have two new possibilities: Grievous and Boss.

Grievous knew Banana, and we meet occasionally at the Netto to remember him.  He’s an extremely intelligent, but manly guy who is moderately disabled.  He walks, but has some difficulties, and was on crutches for awhile.  We talk about many things, and he considers it a good thing that I’m not a feminist.

I may be too late because in the time that I didn’t see him for awhile, he went to France to visit a woman he met online.  So I have some competition, but it’s okay because I haven’t committed to anything.  At the moment, he may be thinking that I like him, but I haven’t done the deep eyes thing yet.  We’ll see.

Boss is…a scary motherfucker.  He likes big women, I know because I’ve seen him respond somewhat positively to one of his fans.  So there might be a problem of what if my natural weight is 120 instead of 140.  However, that’s still a year or two down the road.

Meanwhile, when he sees me, he wants to feed me alcohol.  I have to take care about that because it’s not good for me, so I always order a summertime, which is a very light vodka and sprite with lemons.

He’s one of those guys with too much money.  We met the night my landlord had the cops come to our place so they could hear the wails and screeching of the Thursday night Karaoke.  Corruption deemed that they were warned, and Boss straight up lied that the volume was always that low.  I cursed him out.  It might have turned him on.

Living near a center, we are going to have noise, and I’m cool with that, but LE is a friend, so I had to back him up.  So I’m not absolutely sure if Boss is just “neutralizing” me as a threat to his business by pretending to like me, or if he’s really interested.

The night he drove me home, there was the awkward moment when he could have gotten my phone number, but didn’t.  Maybe he’s shy, or maybe he doesn’t want my number.  I don’t know, but hey, free drinks I don’t have to shag for…even though he is a cute potato, and I’d like to.  Oh well.

Skin has gotten weird.  He said he loved me almost every time he passed me while I was sipping on the summertimes Boss supplied.  He also touched my hand and my arm a lot.

Touch often says things that words can’t, and I was becoming a bit unnerved because he seemed to be trying to say something other than just, “I love you, Nicole.”  Maybe he was warning me about Boss, but just didn’t want to spell it out.  The touches were territorial, but I couldn’t read whether they were sexual territorial, or bro protective.

I’m going to go with bro protective because sexual would have been more…jovial I think.  For some reason or another, I got the feeling that he did not want me to do something with Boss.

So I’m taking the unspoken counsel, and using the moron defense against any nefarious intentions on Boss’s part.  If he’s just trying to get on my good side so I don’t complain about the screeching melancholy, then cool…free drinks.  If he’s trying to get into my pants and that’s all, then I am not going to register any acceptance of such a possibility unless or until he makes a real move.  If he’s interested in more than that, then he might be crazy, but hey, it’s crazy for my benefit.

So that’s the situation at the moment.  Law of attraction seems to be working well, but I have to learn to better calibrate my responsiveness to stay out of trouble.


My pronouns are whatever you're comfortable with as long as you speak to me with respect. I'm an Afruikan and Iswa refugee living in Canaan. That's African American expat in Israel in Normalian. I build websites, make art, and assist people in exercising their spirituality. I'm also the king of an ile, Baalat Teva, a group of African spirituality adherents here. Feel free to contact me if you are in need of my services or just want to chat.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

  • You’ve read the article, now get the t-shirt! :-D