Fortunately I had the luxury of doing absolutely nothing at my job and still got paid for it. My boss was never in, so I didn’t have anyone breathing down my neck. Because my schedule was so regimented, the home page on my job’s computer was set to Facebook. I signed in, checked my messages, then surfed to see if anyone was online worth chatting with early in the morning.
Not seeing anyone worthy of chatting with, I minimized the window and checked my personal emails. I heard a chime, notifying me that someone had spotted me on FB and wanted to chat. It was him.
“Good morning Queen. How are you this wonderful morning?”
I smiled before typing in my response. As the weeks had gone on I must admit, I looked forward to receiving messages from him. They brightened up my day. They gave me the excitement I needed to break up the monotony of my daily routine. His messages always did that. It’s as if I could hear each word as he’d type, though I’ve never heard his voice.
“Hi there. I have no complaints. U?”
“None here either. Glad to be on the sunny side of the dirt”
“Now that’s funny.”
“Well, I just wanted 2 say hello. I’ll IM u on messenger when I get the chance.”
I perused through a few people’s pages, reading their info, checking out their pictures, looking at our mutual friends and their friends. Reading folks’ statuses gave me an idea of that person’s personality, their sense of humor, whether or not they were conservative, religious, outspoken, creative, crass, among other things. I went to Kenzu’s page and noticed he posted a new profile pic. My comment landed toward the end of the page. This was a very sexy picture of him. So I decided to follow suit and tell him so by simply posting “Very nice pic.” A few very short seconds later, I got notification that he “liked” my response.
I was sitting in the lobby of the girls’ musical class when I decided to take initiative. I scrolled over to the Instant Messaging folder then clicked on Yahoo. Up until this point, I had waited for him to let me know when he was ready to chat. This time I was ready.
“Hey!” I typed with confidence.
As soon as I hit ENTER I got nervous. Not really sure why, though. I mean, what could possibly happen through the phone? I scanned the room, looked at the clock on the wall, then at my phone. It seemed I did this about 100 times before he responded.
“Hey Queen. I was just thinking about u”
I exhaled. My heart started beating at its normal pace again. “O yea? Wht abt?”
“Ur attentiveness, ur compassion, ur beautiful smile”
“LOL. Wht r u doin”
“@ the girls’ practice.”
“OK. I was thinkn abt sumthn”
“uh oh. Don’t make ur brain explode”
“aaahhhhh! U got jokes, huh? LOL”
“naw, j/k. wassup”
“we been chattn 4 a couple mnths nw. was thnkn we could talk sumtimes. 313-555-2754”
“uhh, r u sure abt tht”
“I couldn’t b more sure”
I knew that I wasn’t going to be the first to call. So I gave him my number.
At work the next morning, I was removing my hat and gloves and hanging up my coat when I heard my cell phone vibrating and sliding across the desk. I ran over and quickly answered it.
“Hello,” I said almost out of breath.
“Good morning, Queen,” said the smooth, baritone voice on the other end.
It was just as I had imagined, if not better. Goose pimples covered my flesh. I felt my nectar stirring. I had drifted off to a place where it was just him and me. Touching, kissing and caressing all day.
“Hey you. How are you?”
“Much better now!”
This warmed my heart. I could feel the happiness in his voice.
“Aww. I’m glad you called. Now I can put the name and face with the sexy voice.”
“Now I’m blushing,” he said as he chuckled.
“Well, I’m only speaking the truth.”
“That’s sweet. So did you make it to work?”
“Yeah, I just got here when you called.”
“I’m sorry. You can call me back once you get settled.”
“No. No. I’ve been waiting for this moment. I’m good.”
Throughout that day we alternated between phone calls and messaging. Our days were consumed with communicating with each other by some means. He would either call in the mornings on his way to work or whenever his wife wasn’t around. I did not call often but when I did, it wouldn’t be without messaging and asking permission first.
He and his wife met when he delivered a package to the office where she worked. He was thirty-two years old and figured he’d better settle down soon before it was too late. Her body was rounder than what he was used to dating, but he was enamored by her fully fat backside.
When she signed for the package, he asked her to write her number down, too. He would soon find out that she was a church girl and saving herself. Within six months, they were married. He got some honeymoon head and thought they were headed down the right path, until the revelation.
He confided in me that she was into only oral sex, and when he tried to get creative she would scold and chastise him for wanting it any other way, often calling him a “freak.” Included in her list of stipulations was that they do “it” in complete darkness. Over the past few years she had gained a substantial amount of weight and had become self-conscious. Kenzu said that he was unaware of any of this prior to getting married. He said they would have phone sex almost every night when they were dating. She talked about all the things she was going to do to him after they tied the knot. When she didn’t uphold her end of the deal, he turned to other outlets.
“What about missionary?” I asked him during one of our many phone conversations.
“Nope. No penetration whatsoever.” He affirmed.
“WOW! That’s messed up.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Well is it only about the sex? I mean, do y’all get along otherwise?”
“I try to, but we really don’t have nothing in common. We don’t like the same foods, watch the same shows, have the same taste in music. Nothing.”
“Hmm. Have y’all talked about separating?”
“I talk about it all the time. But then she makes me feel bad and starts crying, talking ‘bout all I care about is sex and how I don’t love her…yada yada.”
“Do you love her?”
“Of course I do. I just don’t think she’s the person for me.”
“Well you gotta do something. Maybe you should try counseling.” I suggested, trying to remain as objective as possible.
“I am doing something; I’m getting to know you.”
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