Support System..

He pushed away from the computer briskly as the frustration built on his face. The words weren’t coming together as he’d wished and he was certainly less than satisfied with the mixture of words which haphazardly designed the previously blank white page. The multitude of destroyed copies littered the floor beneath his feet and the third opened red bull can signified a long night ahead. His well lit apartment cast a great glow down upon his work station, but cast very few ideas.

Martha watched him pace around the room while she simultaneously watched the Heroes marathon playing in front of her on the large HDTV dangling from the wall. She tried to focus on her favorite characters movements as to not get overly involved in his project. His incessant pacing gradually and likely purposefully pulled him directly between she and the NBC series she’d been waiting weeks to see. The State Farm commercial caused her to speak as she dashed for a can of orange soda in the nearby kitchen.

“Something wrong, Ant?” she said, knowing the answer but trying steer clear of the conversation. She knew he wanted to discuss it.

“Well, now that you ask. There is. I just can’t piece this together. I’ve been struggling with it for weeks now.” He thought back to the novel he’d been working on and wanted it to be just perfect.

With the safety of the ceramic wall dividing she and Ant, she rolled her eyes with confidence. She opened her big mouth months ago in pushing him to try something that his heart desired. Although he had dreams of becoming a New York Times best seller, his writing ability didn’t match the ideas that filled his head. She strolled back around the corner, with a semi smile on her face.

“I was hoping maybe you can give me some inspiration or something, you know.” Ant wondered about his next steps. He’d always sought her tips to salvage his confidence in taking on this project. Months had gone by with very little to show, and his stronghold on fulfilling his secret life desire was waning.

With one eye focused on the commercials playing on network television, she dashed over to his computer and read the few words that were scattered on his page. Some levels of amazement set in as the words entered her thought process.

                               “ Jeremy was scared. He didn’t not know what he shoulda did and he didn’t know anybody that would help him. He needed help.

                                He jumped in his car and press the gas. The gas made his car go fast. The wind went into the car because the window was down.”

She wanted to smile at his amateurish attempt at novel hood, but forgot that she was part of the reason he’d entertained this idea in the first place.

Chase your dreams, she said. You can be anything you want, she said. Now she regretted even uttering the word, book.

“Honey this is great, keep up the good work.” She watched the smile come across his face, as she jumped back to the couch just in time to catch the next segment of her favorite show.

He pulled his chair back up to the desk and continued to write.

Can you positively support someone in a venture, that they are obviously not good at?

Who should take the burden to inform someone that what they want to do, they probably shouldn't?

Is Martha right in pushing him to write or should she have shut him down?

Sweaty Sex Statement..

“Nathaniel?”  Folisha whispered as she pushed her cheek deeper and deeper in his bare chest as they both lay sweaty on his California King sized bed. His booming deep voice rumbled through his chest and out of his esophagus before it reached her earlobes.

“Yea, baby girl” he responded.

“You know I love you right?” she said, uttering the 4 letter word for the first time during their relationship.

Four years ago, yesterday, they began a torrid sexually affair, complete with desires, fantasies and erotic dreams. It was always solely about that. Never a mention of relationship status. Never a mention of monogamy. Never a mention of an isolated friendship.

It was sex. Nothing more, nothing less.

The room paused around him as he tried to gather his thoughts.

He looked down at the red white and blue polo sheet that was tossed during their second round of foreplay a mere 40 minutes prior. He looked over at the brown shoes that were tossed in the corner of the room along with her  Prada loafers haphazardly as they tried to undress as quickly as possible. The television remote control was resting comfortably near the bed, a battery less as it had been thrown from the bed during one of the many position switches over the course of the last few hours.

He was unsure how to answer and was thankful that Earth had seemingly stopped to allow him time to think.

“I love you too baby doll.”

The smile that blanketed her face was of pure emotion. Nothing was sweeter than the first time hearing someone say that they love you.

Nathaniel had a different point of view.

In some ways, his answer wasn’t false.

The interpretation was false. Absolutely false. He didn’t love her. He HAD love for her, but wasn’t in love with her.

Luckily for him, she didn’t ask for the interpretation.

He didn’t bother to give it.

He closed his eyes, hoping his answer suffice.

What are your thoughts about this type of situation?

Unattractive Proposition..

Nora watched him as he stood in the mirror. His apartment was lavish and all of the intricate details of living were certainly included in what she thought was the perfect place. The view out of the double mirror provided a look at the Boston skyline that she felt was only shared by God himself. The evening night was a dark canvas with stars scattered along its vast frame. The crescent moon hung as a constant reminder that a brightness could come even through the darkest of dark. She sat in the long flowing cream Vera Wang creation which shielded her naked skin from the eyes and the accompanying stare which were certain to come her way.

The night began at 8:00 pm.

He wasn’t anyone special. He was Lawrence. Although to the rest of the world, he was Lawrence Solomon, an overnight sensation after writing and directing Hollywood’s latest smash, “The Professional Liar” which received more award nominations than he she fingers. The thought of it all seemingly took her breath away. What definitely took her breath away, was when he asked her out on a date with his new found confidence. It took only one date before he invited her to the upcoming ceremony.

He looked in the mirror and stared at his 5’4 frame draped in a specially designed suit originating from the imagination of Hugo Boss himself. The dark gray was an amazing compliment to the baby blue pin stripes that snuck into the design. The cufflinks on his wrists were the most money he’d ever spent on anything, especially since receiving an excessively large check courtesy of Paramount. Money would never be a problem again.

Nora excused herself as her cell phone vibrated in her purse.

“Hello?” she whispered as she saw the face of her best friends appear on the screen.

“Girl, you’re in for a hell of a night! Denzel, Morris, Tyrese, and Idris will ALL be at the event tonight!”

Nora felt chills run up her spine like an Olympic athlete.

“Girl, you know I can’t wait.” Nora whispered back into the phone.

“Too bad you gotta go with that dude.” Her friend said from the other line as she snapped her neck in disgust.

Nora looked over at Lawrence, as he wanted to be called, and curled her lips. She towered over him by at least 4 inches and these heels weren’t helping. His face was one that only a mother could love with so many bumps and crevices that an appointment with Proactive would definitely be on the priorities list. The 115 lbs listed on his profile was exaggerated and yet, he still wore shoes the size of an NBA player. His overbite was beyond ridiculous and even after two hours at the barber shop his widows peak was more like a mountain. Even his ears were more like large doorknockers that likened utensils.

“Its for a good cause, girl, so don’t trip. If I can just meet the right person while I’m hanging out with him I can finally kick start my acting career so don’t trip. I won’t lose focus.” Nora said before she hung up the line.

IS NORA WRONG??

Sexual Seconds

“I’m coming to you, man up. I wanna let you know the score.” Jerome said to Mike as they stood within feet of each other in the cramped living quarters.

A friendship for over twelve years had developed into more of a brotherhood, one that had never been challenged until just now.

“What’s the deal, homie?” Mike said, pouring a glass of orange juice and partially reading over the local sports page as the words came from Jerome’s mouth. Most of them were missed until the name, Miranda came out of his mouth.

“Wait, wait. What did you say?” Mike asked needing clarification.

“I’m saying I saw Miranda out at Slades the other night. We ended up having a few drinks and just talking. Nothing more happened. I know your history.” Jerome answered.

Mike thought back to the times where Miranda was more than just a small story. She was his life. His girlfriend for 18 heavenly months. The woman he’d dreamt of until his own discrepancies cost him her companionship.

“But ummm…. We been chatting, you know, via text, or whatever. And she wanted to go out, kick it, see that new flick with Johnny Depp, you know.”

Mike thought about the treachery that he felt in his soul. Was it really his place to speak on it? Words took on a life of their own.

“So what you gonna do?” he asked.

“Like I said, I wanted to come to you man to man. She’s a good chick. I wanna see where things can go, but I needed to check with you first, kinda for a peace of mind, so to speak.”

Mike thought about how the emotions in him were bubbling over a raging fire that could have only been lit by the devil himself. The answer in his soul was an obvious no. The audible version came out a little different.

“Yea man.” He forced a chuckle. “You know these birds, cuz. Plus you know how I do. I don’t remember em, I bend em back and dismember em.”

The dap they shared was enough to seal the situation.

The anger continued and Mike knew it was only a matter of time before their friendship, a brotherhood years in the making would never be the same.”

Is Mike right in his decision? What would you do?

Bachelor Party Tales

“So how was your night, Maurice” she quizzed me as the phone was pressed against my check, separating my skin from the pillow in which it was placed.

“Fine.” I tried to push out, my voice still raspy from the Hennessey shots from last night’s crazy bachelor party.

She wasn’t too happy about the people attending, and she’d be even less happy about the number of strippers that filled the room.

They certainly spent no expense, getting two strippers from every nationality to make sure the evening was unforgettable.

“Mmm Hmm,” she contended. “ I know it was for Tre, so I’m sure he had strippers in there.” She left the statement open ended hoping that I would offer information. I used the allotted time to clear my throat and try to determine what time of day it was.

“Well?” she questioned seconds later, realizing an answer wasn’t forthcoming.

“Well what?” I asked finally leaning and losing a breathe as my eyes focused on the ungodly hour of 10:00 am, knowing that I didn’t lay my head until 7:15 am this morning.

“Was there strippers there? You know I hate strippers and don’t get me started on the last time you were around strippers, and I almost had to cut a bitch.”

The answers filled my head like sand in a playground. Only one true answer would suffice this situation

“Nah, we was just sitting around playing cards.  Benny and them was bugged out, drunk and wildin’ out. Good time.”

My answer was a lie, true. The lap of my jeans still have an obvious evidence trail, not that she’d ever know.

No harm no foul.

So RR readers, is Maurice wrong? What would YOU have done?