Posts Tagged With: intimacy

Intimacy in Reverse…

Kiss. It’s more than a 70’s glam rock band or a funky little ditty by Prince but it’s the most recognizable show of affection in the world. There are several firsts in all of our lives but there are few that stick with us like our first kiss, not the playful peck on the lips that we get when we’re on the playground in the 5th grade, or in my case the 2nd, but that serious first kiss; that eyes closed, head tilted, tight embrace, tongue dancing kiss that leaves us breathless at its conclusion.

I know where mine was.

I thought I’d been kissed until Cheryl, a piano playing performing arts student at my high school, really let me have it in the Avondale Mall arcade next to the Pop-A-Shot machine. I think I legitimately heard angels singing while Cupid beat-boxed a smooth groove in my ear as she taught me the way of the grown up kiss that afternoon after school. For the entirety of our torrid 5 week 10th grade love affair we spent a lot of time repeating that feat until we did what most high school sophomores who think they are in love do, we broke up. But the kisses didn’t stop, they continued with the next girlfriend, and the one after that; and it got to the point that kisses really weren’t all that big a deal. In fact, a girl didn’t even have to be a girlfriend anymore as kissing was no longer a girlfriend thing, it had degenerated to a simple mark maker; to send her back into her parents’ house just before her curfew thinking, “Damn, he was a really good kisser” and be anxious to go out with me again sometime soon. The kiss, which had started as something shared with that one special girl, had become nothing more than a high school aged calling card that said, “If you want some more of this lip action, baby, you know exactly where to find me…but don’t call after11pm because my parents don’t like that.” I’m guessing that it’s very much the same now.

Intimacy is a lost art probably because most people don’t know what it really is. Things have graduated to the point now that if you asked a random teenager on the street what intimacy is, the chances are likely that he or she would immediately equate it to sex. Even among adults there seems to be a disconnect with how to show affection to someone of the opposite sex without knowing the locatation of their birthmark and where all their moles are. And while there are several ways to show affection to your love, significant other, girlfriend, boyfriend, boo, shawty, or sweetheart there is only one that openly denotes to the outside world that this person that you see me with is mine.

And that’s holding hands.

No matter how much a woman thinks her man is the sh*t and no matter how good he lays it to you when you need it laid down that dude ain’t really feeling you if he’s not willing to get you by the hand and walk at least a city block holding onto you, and not that BS locking pinkies mess either where we can immediately disengage if one of our boys should pop up further down the block. The same thing works in reverse, if a dude is on some real Ralph Tresvant “Sensitivity” type stuff and is reaching for a lady’s hand while out and about and she steady reaching in her purse for something instead of grabbing back then it’s likely dude is nothing more than a jump off that is simply blessed to spend the afternoon with her in public for a change. Back to the original point though, when we have you by the hand that’s a declaration to whomever, our boys, our ex that we run into downtown, and whoever else we come across that this one right here is the one that we’re ridin’ with. Anything less than that and you’re just some chick that we’re walking next to that we can quickly label a friend if a cutie in a form fitting sundress walks by.

My most recent girl would often check me, “Lock my fingers!”, she would say as we walked down the street or in the mall or in the park and I would, not because she was crazy and I was afraid of her – much – but because she was mine and I wanted to because she was my chick, inside and out, vertically and horizontally. Most dudes are too cool to put themselves out there like that but it’s amazing what we’re willing to do for the right woman.

This is just my opinion though, strangely enough, a number of this new breed of woman out here really doesn’t check for that type of connection anymore long as you get her a new bag or feed her shoe habit a little bit, so your results with your lady may vary. Just know that kissing is passé, and sex while entertaining and fabulous exercise isn’t the intimate act that it once was; if you’re looking for a way to know if someone is really checking for you, ask them to hold your hand in public, they get extra points if they do it at the beach or the mall or anyplace that would damage their chances to hook up elsewhere.

To the group, what are your thoughts? What’s intimacy to you and your mate and how do you show it? Is it a spiritual connection? A physical one? Is it even important to you in the first place if someone shows in a public way that they belong to you and you them? Share and share alike and have a great weekend.

~thanks for reading

Join the party at:

www.facebook.com/TheLastAtlantaNative

Categories: Decatur Stories, Humor, Relationships | Tags: , , , , , , , | 8 Comments

Have A Steak Today

In order to not seem like a Valentine’s Scrooge I figured I’d better write something about Valentine’s Day or at the very least about love or relationships. It was my initial intention to just not write anything today since my only healthy loving relationship outside of my family is the one I have with my Netflix queue. But if Steve Harvey can have relationship troubles and still get people to buy into his stuff then why shouldn’t I give it a whirl, huh? So here goes…

Over beers with the guys a few months back the conversation turned to intimacy with our (their) women, wives or significant others; more specifically, who bears the weight of responsibility on who initiates “physical interaction”. Of the 7 or so of us that were out it was nearly a consensus that we (men) have to make the first move when that feeling strikes…not to mention run the risk of getting shot down if you’re (ladies) not in the mood. The one friend who said he had no such problems was banished from the group and asked to never come back and hang out again.

In the words of the one of the dudes in attendance: “Sure I’m a gentleman and all that, but I want to be treated like a piece of meat from time to time. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to get tackled every now and again, is it?!” Then I got choked up and couldn’t talk anymore and I broke down crying right there at the bar. Okay, just kidding (sorta).

But that thought was shared and agreed upon by the group. As we’re not the only ones that “get that feeling” there should be an equal and shared “tackling” experience going on in households across America. Ladies, ask yourself these questions. Have you:

  • Met your man at the door and “attacked” him before he could get the door closed at least once in the last 6 months?
  • Sent at least 3 risque texts/pictures to your dude in the middle of his work day then followed up on it when you got home in the last fiscal year?
  • Just rolled over and “taken it” in the last 6 months?
  • Laid out some skimpy options on the bed, told your dude to look them over and asked him which he would like to take off you later that night?

There are more questions that you can look up at The Organization for Horned Up Gentlemen’s website; it can be found at www.helpmywilly.org (by the way, I’m BS’ing about that website, don’t click it LOL). But if you haven’t done any of those things lately consider making your man feel like a piece of meat sometime soon. We don’t mind it, in fact, we rather like it and it may get you that new bag you’ve been longing for (disclaimer: your results may vary)

In conclusion, it is my hope that taking this suggestion to heart will increase the ladies’ impetus to become the aggressor. We may say we want the sweet, demure woman, and we do, but even better if she’s an occasional Tazmanian Devil. So, wives, significant others, and others ladies that will have a warm body nearby tonight, that man next to you is a piece of meat today and from this day forward. Whether you see him as sirloin or porterhouse is up to you, but whatever cut of meat you decide make it a point to cut into him more often, we’re not gonna protest, football season is over and we have no distractions, so by all means, smack it up, flip it, and rub it down…oh yeah!

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go have some Frosted Flakes and make my Netflix queue say my name when I turn it on…

~thanks for reading 🙂

Join the party at:

www.facebook.com/TheLastAtlantaNative

 

Categories: Humor, Relationships | Tags: , , , , , | 3 Comments

Create a free website or blog at WordPress.com.