Do We Expect Too Much?

It seems as though, most of our grief in life stems directly from our expectations. It’s impossible to be disappointed unless your expectations fail to be met.

Too often we expect people to react to situations the same way we would. I think this becomes the greatest fault line in most relationships. We expect our partner to love the way we do. Understand the way we do and forgive the way we do. Women being more emotionally centered than men tend to experience things this way oppose to men who experience things logically.

As a creature that experiences most of its life emotionally often times women unknowingly expect all interactions follow suit. We go above and beyond because we like/love our men and more times than not, this happens too early in the relationship. We take their lives on as part of our lives.  We triple think our actions weighing them against how they may make our men feel. Always mindful of the conversation flow. Always factoring them and their feelings in. The problem with this behavior is most women expect these actions to be reciprocated by the men in their lives.

We expect that because we may think that talking everyday shows interest the men in our lives agree.

We think that because we give ourselves completely that our partners will instinctively give themselves to us.

We surmise that our emotional timeline matches with that of our love interest.

Problem is….. More often than not. This is not the case.

Where most women see color… Men see black & white.

Example: No communication between a Man and Woman a few days.

Woman: He’s clearly not that interested. Or he’s acting funny. I have to initiate everything. He has too many women he’s dealing with. Pow Wow meeting with the girls to discuss.

Man: Been a long week. Didn’t feel like talking. Still want you and I plan to see you soon.

Now the woman sitting for a week all emotionally disturbed and irritated with a man who has no idea. The man is about to be blindsided when he reaches out to the woman and she has an attitude… all because the expectations weren’t set at the right level.

I think the root of the communication problems between men and women weigh heavier on the side of non-verbal communication than the actual words we share. In our minds we are all already speaking separate languages. Our assumptions and expectations in a language only we understand. It’s like traveling abroad and expecting everyone to speak your native tongue.

So we have to ask ourselves…. Do we expect too much?

The Cafe (abridged version)

I find myself taking a trip down memory lane…. Back to an exciting time in life. Years ago when pleasure was at an all-time high…

We arrive at the cafe which is tucked away near Michigan Ave. I get out of the car and immediately regret my wardrobe choice of the evening, the Chicago wind is unrelenting. I’m wearing a long-sleeved teal body-con dress and knee-high butterscotch colored boots with gold accents. I can smell the Chanel No.5 radiating off my body. I know I’m looking like 2 yesses and a few absolutes. All I can hear in my head however, is my mama saying “Out there trying to be cute, you gonna catch a cold in your coochie.” We walk into the café and it seems as though all of Chicago has had the same idea as me. The place is packed, standing room only. There were a few tables unoccupied but they were being reserved for the people smart enough to call ahead and reserve seating. We make our way to the back of the building and find one empty armchair. I sit down and Xavier takes the arm of the chair. We talked for what seemed like hours. About his career and my career. Stopping only when an artist voice silence us both. There was a British woman with the most soulful sound I’d heard in years, she caused me to stop talking mid-sentence. The ambiance was so warming and peaceful, with its low-lighting and intimate spacing. I watched Xavier passionately tell me about his goals and ambitions, licking his lips what seemed like every other word. He put his hand on the small of my back and I felt my Yoni contract. Something about his touch made my entire body shiver in delight. I don’t know if it was him or the sickening fact that a man hadn’t touched me intimately in what felt like a lifetime. It was getting close to midnight and it was time to go. On the ride home he placed his hand on my thigh and I nearly climaxed right there in his passenger seat. We pull up alongside my hotel and he parks the car. He slowly eases his hand up my dress until he finds the warmest place on Earth. He slides one finger gently inside of my Yoni, moving it in and out with deliberate skill. I can feel his eyes staring at me so I turn to face him. His eyes were dark and filled to the brim with passion. He removed his finger slowly in an effort to show me how much moisture I’d created in such a short time. He brought his finger filled with my love juices to his mouth and licked them off. His freakiness turned me on. Before I knew it, his head was between my legs. He pulled my panties to the side and gave me his tongue. He kissed my second set of lips as though they belonged on the face of his future bride with such passion and precision. His tongue plunged inside of me causing me to clench my legs so tightly I’m sure I nearly cut off his air supply. “Let me come upstairs and eat you out, then I’ll go home” I wanted to want to tell him no. But I just couldn’t. My entire body conspired against my mind and before I knew what was happening we were on the elevator. As soon as we walked into my hotel room he took off his coat threw me on the bed and buried his face between my legs. His beard tickled my sensitivity and drove me mad with pleasure. My body surrendered to him and I died 1000 little deaths. He emerged with my cream conditioning all the hairs on his face. He felt an ego boost giving me that orgasm, it was written all over his face. Just when I thought it was over he sat down on the floor, leaning against the bed and instructed me to mount his face. I eagerly obliged. Around an hour later he couldn’t take any more. “You got any condoms?” I chuckled, “No sir, and now its time for you to go home.” His immediate response was “You know you want this dick.”

With a sly grin I replied, “I’ll never tell, goodnight.” I walked him out returned to my hotel room and took off the remainder of my clothing. I blessed myself with a steaming shower got back into my moist bed and had the best sleep I’d had all year.

The Live Show

…… The lights are still on. I pass the exotic cigar to my left. She nervously accepts. As she inhales I can see her asking herself silently “what did I just get myself into?” She holds her breath almost as an attempt to stop time itself… maybe to build up her confidence. She then invites him into our session and he inhales with all of his might… in his eyes there is more. He looks nervous but the excitement shines through. His eyes tell all the erotic thoughts running through his mind…

There they sit on my bed … me in a chair less than 2 feet away. I have butterflies in my stomach; my palms are a bit sweaty. I’m slightly nervous… but not for the same reasons as them. I can’t help but smile as I think to myself “You really pulled it off!” I whisper to myself “I’m a Boss”. See these two have agreed to allow me to watch them engage in the carnal ravaging of each other. Yes, I am going to sit here in my chair and watch them have sex. (ooooooooooooh I’m a Freak…. Welp it is what it is) I figure porn is great right? So LIVE Porn as got to be better.

I step out for a moment; Allowing them some time to get comfortable. And I head to the kitchen to pour up some liquid courage for us all. When I return their body language lets me know that they have come to peace with the decision they’ve made.  I turn off the lights, sit down, take a sip of my drink and inhale my Herbal Tonic as I prepare for the show of a lifetime.

He lays her down and begins kissing down her body until he reaches her sweet spot. There he sets up camp. Ravaging her like a starving child. At first I can tell she’s afraid to moan or make any noise for that matter…. That soon changes. The subtle moans begin to escape her lips without her permission. Her body refuses to deny that it is in extreme pleasure. He almost spends so much time down there that I lose interest. Just before my attention span collapses he wraps up and plunges his manhood into her cavern. She yelps like a wounded animal. He begins giving her every inch of him all while staring at me. The sight of him emulating on her body what he wishes he could be doing to me nearly causes me to orgasm without a touch. I chuckle to myself. He’s been trying nearly a year to lay his pipe in my factory… but I have zero interest. He KNOWS this is the closest he will get … and he accepts this. He flips her over without warning and enters her from behind. I can hear his body slapping violently into hers. Her small frame is strained by the massiveness of him. He rides her from behind until he collapses in defeat… he is tired yet he does not climax. He asks for a drink and I oblige. The closer I get to the bed I can begin to smell the sex circling around them. She’s sprawled out panting as if she thinks each breath will be her last. He passes her the courage and as she catches her breath… I declare…. I think you should eat me out….

“Who” they ask in Unison? My reply is simple “You can take turns.”  He wants to be first. He lays down on the bed and motions me to mount his face. I do as instructed. I begin slowly riding his face like a calm wave. She arrives behind me and takes his manhood into her mouth, determined not to be left out.  His body spasms from the pleasure and his tongue goes into overdrive. Now I’m bucking as if riding a wild bull. I can hear his moans muffled between my legs. I realize he may be suffocating so I digress.  He rolls me over, gets up and enters her from behind… “Your turn” he commands. He stands by the bed, her on her knees on the bed… face in my sweet spot. He licks his lips as he watches her indulge in my candy. Connecting with her yet never taking his eyes off of me. I can tell she’s done this before, her technique impeccable. It is not long before a small orgasm erupts from my loins. That is enough for me. I politely get up and return to my chair… “Ya’ll can finish”

And Then There Were Three...

Forbidden fruit is always the sweetest….

The music is bumping. The air is so thick I can feel it caress my skin as I make my way through the crowded dance floor. Face after face twisted in its own form of wicked pleasure… All these people indulging themselves in their desires. Grinding their sexual frustrations out on whoever is willing to reciprocate. Clouding our judgments with the sweet intoxication of our varied flavors of liquid courage. When the lights go out and the speakers come on each patron gives their silent signature an inaudible acknowledgment that for the next few hours… in this place… your wildest dreams can come true… nearly anything is possible.

The phone rings. He requests my presence. He does not belong to me, but I am his. I submit to calling without hesitation. No questions needed aside from the address of our Rendezvous. I arrive at a hidden night club on such a quiet street to be in the Big City. The night is cool, slightly uncomfortable without a Jacket… but bearable. For once in my life, I’m early. So I make my way to the bar and start the night off with a shot of my old friend Senor Patron. As the tequila begins to warm my blood I look up and see him enter. Always such a presence when he walks into a room, everyone notices. But wait… who is this woman with him. If I were anyone else … looking at her frame I would have assumed she was me. She’s wearing sunglasses so I can’t make out her face. I make my way closer, she removes her glasses and her face becomes one that I am more than familiar with. He also does not belong to her… but she, much like me … is his.

We drink… we dance…. We drink…. We laugh…. We drink…

My Mr. Jones...

He pulls my face to his and kisses me… if I didn’t know better I would have thought he missed me. Then he turns to his left… and kisses her. For just a moment the world goes silent. “What the hell just happened?” Is all I can think. Did we talk about this? Did I somehow forget THIS portion of the directions? So I am faced with a simple decision… Am I down? I think to myself… What the hell … Carpe Diem”

We spend the rest of the night in varied 3person dance maneuvers… Tasting Ciroc off each others lips. We have officially occupied the Very Important People’s section of this club. Women are forgetting what their Mother’s taught them and shaking what they gave them for the ones we incautiously throw. Us Musketeers have found a corner and made our way to a Verbal game of twister, enjoying the combinations of sweet the 3 of us make.

The next thing I remember is being told to make my way to the car. Driver pulls the Benz up we hop in the back. Sleep takes over… I awake to find myself walking through the lobby of a hotel. Room doors are opened. Showers commence. I am the last to exit the shower… my erotic obsession with hot water delays me. I exit the bathroom to find them in the bed. She is straddling him, grabbing his back for dear life. Their lips beckon me to join the two of them in the bed… Lights are turned off… and then there were three.

What These Bitches Want From a Nigga? (What @itsmscoco2u says)

Well I guess that depends on who you ask. As for me it depends on which day you ask me. I will admit to being one of those Women who really doesn’t know what she wants. I like to attribute my indecisiveness to being a Gemini. Helps me feel better about it. Part of me wants a Rich man with a Big Penis and a Monster tongue to travel around the world with Eating, Drinking, watching strippers and having sweaty sex in wild places. I want him to blow my mind, body and soul. I want to fuck on the beach, dine at the RITZ and bathe in Champagne. I want someone who can take me places even my imagination hasn’t dreamed up yet. Someone who brings all the naughty out of me. Rock my world….  Then take his ass right back home until I summon his presence again.

Another part of me wants a strong, loving, dependable Southern Man to come home to everyday. I want a man who makes me feel secure in giving all my love only to him. A man who takes out the garbage and mows the lawn on the little piece of property we saved up to buy. A man who’s idea of a night out consist of Drinking with his friends and playing poker. A man who forgets occasionally that he still has to date me, but never forgets my birthday or our anniversary. A man who loves his Mama and fears God. I want a Man who calls me on my bullshit and caresses away my pain. I want to come home to a man who knows how to fix the kitchen sink and is willing to clean out the gutters. A man who I can put a 3 piece suit on and the outside world would never guess his past. A man willing to love me despite mine…

So… to answer the Trillion Dollar question: What these Bitches want from a Nigga?

EVERYTHING!

brought to you by @itsmscoco2u 

What These Bitches Want From A Nigga? (what @RODRIGUEZ_TGC says)

The Trillion Dollar Question: 

"What these bitches want from a nigga?"

Answer: 

1. Money 2.Swag  3.Good Sex

End of article. 

It's that simple if your just strictly looking for a good time, but once you step into the relationship arena, oh boy things get a lot more complicated....things like love, understanding, commitment, caring all start coming into place, but don't think you can leave those other three points alone 1. Money 2. Swag 3. and good sex must remain. So how do you balance all of these without letting your ego get out of control, or on other side not go crazy? IDK ask Obama.  

My theory for guys is do not get into a relationship unless your money is right, cuz she can LOVE you, but if your money aint right, just LOVE is not going to make her stick around, it has to be a combination of both plus you have to be interesting aka swag. There are a lot more factors that are involved but I would need a book to write about those in depth.  If I'm wrong ladies please correct me.

BROUGHT TO YOU BUY @RODRIGUEZ_TGC

Waking at the Westin

*Stretches and yawns* I begin to adjust my eyes to the darkness. The first thing I realize… I have clearly drunk a lot the previous night. Wait is it morning? My vision begins to clear. By the looks of this room… I am definitely at the Westin. I’d recognize this room décor in the dark. Well this is either a good sign or a really bad sign. Waking up in a strange hotel? But hey…. At least it’s the Westin right? Am I alone? A voice from behind me whispers “Are you awake Baby?” Nope, clearly not alone.  I take a deep breath and roll over. Do my eyes deceive me? Am I lying next to the MAN himself? Visions of the previous night begin to hit me like a raging flood.

            A simple business conversation turns into “let’s go to happy hour”. That Happy Hour turns into “Go Home and get dressed, I’ll have my driver wait for you and bring you to the club” A few drinks in the club, relaxing in VIP. He’s no major clubber; he’d rather drink and watch everyone else act a fool. I’m with that plan. We attempt small talk over loud obnoxious music. This is no upscale lounge, we are in Hood City. Nevertheless we are determined to enjoy ourselves. And like a flash of lightning I see a shiny stripper pole beckoning my attention from my right peripheral. The desperate and disillusioned women in this club begin to shake and gyrate in hopes of getting… phone bill money… I suppose. Before I know it, I’m given a $100 bill and instructed to turn it into 100 singles. I am much obliged. I myself am quite a big fan of Women taking off their clothes for money and I have no problem helping “Chocolate Thunder” pay her metro bill. After visiting 4 different Bar Tenders I finally have made this 1 bill into 100 bills. I stuff the money into my bosom as make my way through the thickness of the crowd back to the safety of VIP.  After consuming one more drink he grabs my hand, leads me through what feels like hell for broke people and up to the stage where the stripper pole awaits our 1’s. One hand on my waist… the other continuing to hand me one dollar bills to rub up and down “Chocolate Thunder’s” ass. Keep in mind this is NOT A STRIP CLUB. But hey what do you expect when you have a stripper pole, Hennessy, Waka Flaka Music and a bunch of Horny men drunk and willing to spend all the little money they worked so hard for 2 weeks to get? The crowd is in an uproar. They are elated to see this little Woman (me) making it rain on the biggest ass any of them have probably ever seen in real life. A few of them get out of control and begin to grope MY ass…. Now it’s time TO GO!

We spend some time cuddled in a corner and finally decide leave. He beckons the driver and informs him it’s time to go. I’m instructed to find a hotel. *Siri, find the nearest Westin* 

                           ************ INSERT MEMORY LOSS*************

Yes! It is the MAN that I have awakened to. I peek under the covers. Not naked…. But definitely NOT full dressed. He wraps his arms around me and as I look down I spy a sparkle . I'm reminded of what I already surmised in the back of my mind. We talk about business for a while then its gets personal. Something is genuine in his admissions of his inability to resist me .  After further conversation it is made clear that we did NOT enter into horizontal polka during the night. The relief I felt is indescribable.