#LOLOSLOVELIFE: 'The Pretty Young Thing' Part Two

#LOLOSLOVELIFE: 'The Pretty Young Thing' Part Two

This is part two of my last fling with a twenty something man, the 'Pretty Young Thing' that got me caught up.

We found ourselves alone in the bathroom ( again so high school), and I went for it. But he resisted me. More over analyzing. Is he not attracted me? Does he still like Beyonce? Is it cause I’m fat?  As the night waned on, the making out ensued, and we both gave in. Get ready for some PG-13 description of how it all went down. His hands massaged me in hidden places. My lips pressed softly along his neck, my arms ran down his back. I could feel he didn’t want to leave, and that turned me on even more. In my softest, sensual voice I whispered in his ear, occasionally licked his ear. I laid on my back…..and he stopped.

“I can’t do this,” Suave said creating distance between us. I care about you, and I’d hate sex to fuck things up. Plus you’re not a bathroom fuck.” 

I had no intentions of giving up the cookie in the bathroom that night, but I was legit surprised that he didn’t try to take advantage. I mean what P.Y.T does that? It messed up my head and made me fall for him more. But with the engine already running, I had to drive. We didn’t have sex, but we both left satisfied. 

Suave and his friend stayed the night. The next morning I woke up half way stunned and excited things turned Rated R that night. Because, he cared enough to not go for sex, I had a sliver of hope he’d wake up wanting more of my heart. Apparently the sun was shining on him in a totally different way. Later that night he gave me the friend speech, and ghosted me for weeks. It was crushing. I had put myself out there not just physically but emotionally. The rejection cut deep.

The longer he didn’t call or reach out the more insecure I became. What Suave didn’t know was that my life was more dramatic and heartbreaking than a Nicholas Sparks novel. Our brief whatever it was made me feel sexy, and worthy. It was an escape from the many disappointments in my life and it gave me something to hope for. In my thirties I know better than to place my self esteem in the arms of a man…. but this P.Y.T drug was hands down the most addictive I've ever met. It hooked me where it hurts most, your heart.

I wish I could say after rejecting me for my friend Beyonce, and being ignored I had enough. I went in for more. Missing his humor and charm, I laid it all out. I told Suave I had feelings for him, and why his rejection hurt so bad. He seemed to genuinely care. Before long we were back to messaging one another, deep talks, and a new twist long ass phone calls. You know when you first like someone even listening to them play videos is amusing? Yea, neither do I. God I wish I was kidding. I am slapping myself as I type this. I literally listened to his commentary while he played Madden for three hours. Again it was so high school. The night ended with him asking for pictures of my lady bits. I should have been disgusted, yet I was slightly amused.

I’m not quite the glutton for punishment as you may think. I did have some dignity. I hit rock bottom with Suave when he “accidentally fucked his best female friend.” Yup that’s my limit of fuckery. Here’s how one accidentally trip into someone’s vagina as Suave says. One night he and I were talking on the phone and he rushed off.  I later found out he went to  comfort his very clingy best lady friend who had the hots for him. Something he was very aware of. When I met her once if was as if she was pissing on Suave to mark her territory. She was vying for his attention, stroking his hand, and pouting when he paid attention to me. I thought Suave could see she was looking for a way in, but he didn’t. 

“It was an accident. She was crying, and then it just happened,” he said. Why do men use this excuse. “She lost her job and she was crying. What was I supposed to do?” Umm I don’t know maybe not fuck her. Maybe take that chick to Wendy’s for a four for four, listen to her cry for two hours and keep it moving.

But, what did I expect really? Suave was twenty-two and selfish. Everything he did in our on month friendship had nothing to do with my feelings. For some reason because we had shared so much emotional stuff I expected him to think of me. The fact that he didn’t was telling of how little I meant to him.

Then he had the audacity to play the victim. “I just really need a friend right now Lolo. I don’t know what to do. What if I messed things up,” he replied.” Umm how about you go cuddle up to the bestie whose vagina you fell into?  I am so sad I was not this clever in the moment. I felt a sting in my chest. It was as if someone had stabbed me in my heart, then plastered ‘idiot’ on my head.  I’m not sure why I expected anything meaningful or decent from this P.Y.T. He ditched me for my hot Beyonce friend, used me, and then tripped into a girl’s fruit cocktail. I really wish it didn’t hurt me so bad.

I can’t give him all the blame. I’ll take 10%. I am 32, and I’ve lived through some serious relationships, and a whole lot of flings with early twenty-something men. In you early twenties selfishness is hard to kick. You are finally legal, and finding yourself. Few men in their early twenties are willing to give up the pursuit of new pussy. In a nutshell, it’s a season of taking what’s yours, and discarding real feelings. I should not have expected respect, loyalty, or commitment from a twenty-two year old man. But, I did. I take responsibility for that. I also own the fact that I was too vulnerable for Suave’s games. His rejection came at a really hard time in my life.

I must admit when I took my first hit of Suave, I was already wounded and battered. I was lonely. I felt ugly, and I had given up on finding anything or anyone meaningful. His attention while false was soothing. I had lost all faith in feeling excited about a man again, or even thinking someone could love me. His false attempts at caring made me hopeful. If I were stronger at the time I would have known I wasn’t strong enough to play this young man’s game. If you follow this blog you know I’ve had my heart broken by twenty something men in the past, both of my biggest heart breaks this year came at the hands of twenty something men; ‘The Love That Almost Broke me’ and City Hall. If I can help it this will be my last time falling into the drug-induced of a early twenty-year old man. Now to heart rehab and recovery. The pain felt so bad I disconnected from social media for an entire month to get myself straight. For the first week, I cried myself to sleep. I felt so foolish. In my heart, I so hoped he’d be different. thought I mattered. 

I am done. I’ve walked on the wild side. I touched the hot stove, and I’m nursing the wounds.  When a man tells me he is anywhere between 20 to 26 I’m going to run for the hills. I’m no spring chicken anymore, and my heart can’t take it. I no longer have the strength for young, selfish men who say one thing and do another. No more can I sustain men who view sex as a means for getting off and not about making love. I want that cuddle in the bed on Sunday kinda love. I want that bare faced, sweat shirts, and beers kinda of romance. A man who sees me opening my heart and is careful not to put more battle wounds there.

I also know I need to get back to loving myself again. I am curvy, but confident. Fat and fabulous. I am an all embracing type of love. In the words of my old flame City Hall, “If I love you, I live for you.” I am your biggest cheerleader, your most trusted confidant, your comedian, your prayer warrior, I am light on dark days. I want to love myself enough to not accept anything less than greatness from a man. I want to love myself enough to not settle for charming douche bags who mesmerize me with their flirtation. I want to care about my heart enough to give it to men who cherish it. I want to get back to that confident woman who bailed at the sight of red flags. And I hope all of this leads me to tender, sensual, considerate man who will hold me on those nights I cry, applaud me on the days I triumph, and keep his feet on solid ground when temptations comes his way. 

I suspect this may take a while. But, if my past shows me there are men who still believe in loving a woman the right way. When I was twenty-one I was so blessed to have found  amazing man who loved me in a way no man has since. He was the “love of my life”, my everything, my best friend, and the keepers of all my secrets. He was my ‘Dwayne Johnson’; bald, strong, Godly, funny, suave, and he loved me in a way I never knew possible. I want to wait for another one of those loves. The love that helped me run a 10k, and lost 50 pounds. The love that believed in me when I didn’t. That love that cooked for me when I came home from work, and gave me “just because presents”. The kind of love who went to church with me on Sunday, and dirty danced to Lil Wayne with me on Saturday. My Rock loved my Down Syndrome sister. He loved me when I was fat, and he loved me when I was skinny. He drove two hours to dig me out of a snow storm, and stayed till it passed. The man who time stopped for when we met. I always cry when I think about you because you taught me real love. Even though life has taken us in different places I am forever grateful for the season in life we had loved each other. You are my standard I measure all men to.  Oh, Mr. G.Q you were one for the books. It’s remembering your love lately that is reminds me I am worthy of real love. In 2017 I’m vowing to stop settling for petty men who play games, and keeping hoping for that Mr. G.Q. kind of love.

Here’s to no more P.Y.T.S unless he is Taylor Latuener from Twilight then all bets are off.

Here’s to loving me more and waiting for the high of real love.