This goes out to all my ABW's (angry black women), and the men who love them.
An anonymous friend told me this story, and in the WTH moment (see story below), we tried to decipher her motives...I have my opinion, but I'll save it for after.... Ladies & gents, I'm definitely looking for your thoughts as well. Mine follow.
Without further ado: the ABW episode
I met “Brandy” a week ago through a mutual friend. She works in my friend’s office building where I occasionally visit. I said “hello” and she shot back “I’m fine” and pretty much ignored me. I came back the following day, to meet my friend for lunch, and she continued to be very dry.
“Good afternoon,” I smiled.
“Hi,” she fired back.
“How are you doing today?”
She sighed, “I’m tired. My feet and my head hurt. Why?”
“Just asking,” I answered. “I hope you feel better.”
“Ummm Hmmm.”
Initially, I thought she wasn’t feeling me—until the mutual friend gave her my number and she called. We talked briefly and it wasn’t a bad conversation at all. Brandy was a 25-year old receptionist/part-time college student/single mother finishing up her degree.
This woman is extremely attractive from head to toe: 5’5”, size 8-10 with caramel skin. Her body is very voluptuous and she has thick, black shoulder-length hair. She got a little “street” in her that came out in her relaxed vernacular; but hey, I could appreciate her keeping it real with me.
That weekend, she came over to my house and we talked until the sun came up. When she left at 6am, she kissed me goodbye. It was one of those soft, innocent kisses indicative of two people who share a budding attraction.
A few days later, I was driving home from out of town. Brandy called me on my cell phone and we chatted away until I reached the city limits. She told me that she was “waiting” for me outside my house and she was excited to see me. I admit, it did wonders for my male ego.
I pulled up to my house and Brandy was leaning against her car in a form-fitting butterscotch blouse and low-riding cream slacks that revealed a hint of a fuschia thong. She looked good. I got out of the car and she immediately greeted me with a kiss on the lips.
“I missed you,” she said.
“It’s good to see you too,” I replied. “C’mon, let’s go in the house. It’s hot out here!”
We walked into the house and I turned on the A/C. She helped bring my bags in before going into my bedroom and sitting on the edge of the bed. I took a quick shower while she watched television. I told her I was sore from working out and she offered to give me a back massage. I laid across the bed and she did her thing- all the while, we’re talking, laughing and joking. After about 15 minutes of massage therapy, we found ourselves making out on my bed.
“I want you,” Brandy whispering within her panting. “I want you, baby.”
It didn’t take long for that butterscotch outfit to hit the floor along with her panties and bra. We took a brief pause for me to locate a condom and put it on. Brandy and I were having mind blowing sex on top of the covers. If I were to take my most vivid fantasy of she and I intertwined in a session, it wouldn’t even come close to reality.
“Baby, I wanna ride,” she said.
“That’s cool,” I whispered. By now, I could feel the sweat running off the sides of my back.
Brandy gets on top and starts riding me like she was qualifying at the national rodeo. Her breasts were swinging against my face and the room was saturated with screams and moans. That’s when it happened.
“Oh shit!” she yelled before going into a panting, pouty voice. “Baby, please take the condom off, I wanna feel you…please just take it off so I can feel just you!”
My brain, my dick, my entire body went…”HUNH?” We were going at it a mile a minute and, in the heat of passion, you request that I remove the only thing that stood between me and child support court/visitation rights hearings? It all made sense though: good guy + good job = steady check; Brandy must have thought I came from the Booboodafool tribe. The loving was off the chain, but we’re talking about my life! Most guys would have slid off the rubber in midstroke, but what happened next was a thing of beauty.
“Listen,” I said in between rhythms. “I really like you…I mean, I’m really digging you and everything. But I’m not ready to have any more kids. You feelin’ me?”
This was my intuitive reaction and it impressed the hell out of me. It wasn’t so much that I had said it, but the fact that it was my FIRST thought/reaction.
Brandy kept on riding me and, a few moments later, she responded, “Okay…I feel you.” This is where she started bucking and gripping until she came all over me. Suddenly, as if she had just come out of a hypnotic trance, she looked down at me. Sweat was dripping from her big breasts onto my stomach. You could see the feeling of shame and embarrassment cover her face like an emotional veil.
“I can’t believe what I said to you,” she covered her mouth. “Oh my God. I am such a ho! I can’t believe I said that!”
“It’s cool, Brandy. I mean, I’m not judging you.” I assured her.
“But I can’t believe I said that! I’m disgusted with myself.” Brandy slid herself off of me and took a deep breath. “I gotta go home.”
Now, why is it AFTER she has an orgasm- she has this revelation and is ready to bounce? I kind of had to respect her gangsta in the situation…but not before she respected mine. I asked her to lay back down on the bed and pause for a minute. She obliged.
“Look, Brandy. Sometimes we say crazy shit in the heat of the moment. I can’t fault you for that.”
“But I don’t even know you to be going there!” she blurted.
“Which is why I said what I said,” I replied. “Now you know, any other brother would’ve taken that condom off with the quickness…or at least thought about it.”
“You’re right.”
“So that should at least let you know that I give a damn about you and me.” I concluded.
“But what does that say about me?” she asked.
“It says that I put it on yo’ ass!” I laughed. “And I’m not done.”
“Oh, you’re not?” she smirked.
“Hell nawl…”
We went at again for another hour or so until the comforter was just a damp, sweaty mess. I could tell that she was still feeling weird about what happened earlier, but whatever. Afterwards, she got dressed and I walked her to the car. She drove off. I walked back into my house. Only three words described the whole experience…what.the.hell…
My thoughts: note that Colonel Abrams song "I'm trapped" is playing in the background.
My gut reaction - this is a hood-rat-come-up. My friend has a decent job, makes decent money, and is the proverbial "package" - he's a good guy, with potential. This chick is trying to get a brotha caught-up, for real. My other guy friends have told me hole-in-condom stories before, so it doesn't really surprise me. Don't let a degree, career, house or car fool ya - this is an older trick, and some women must figure that that book apparently hasn't gone out of style, yet. Even PhD's have some hood-rat in them.
But the more I think about it, the more I'm like "da hell is she thinking?!!!" I mean come on, this is 2006 - getting pregnant isn't the only concern here, and like my friend said when we were talking about it - that piece of a$$ wasn't worth his life, and it certainly shouldn't have been worth hers.
Sisters, sistas, sistahs - I ain't trying to be condescending, patronizing or holier-than-thou when I say we have to do better than this. But COME ON...at the minimum, why put up the whole ABW defense, like you aren't taking any BS or prisoners, to (in less than a month) be throwing the raw goodies at a relative stranger. RAW. Wait, did you hear me? I said RAW. This, my good girlfriends, is part of the problem. My friend here is nice, a virtual sweetheart and has sense. He sees her as a person, and not an object, even if she put herself out there. Some brothas wouldn't have been this nice, or entertained her again.
*SMH* dayum.
pre-epiphany context:: I had a date, which the jury is still out on whether it did/didn't go well. However, since I refuse to blog about the mundane, I won't share the gory details of said date until, well...until they become gory.
geek philosophy:: epiphany, thy name is yeOryios. Remember a WHILE back, I blogged about a certain geek I was going out with? Let's call him yeOryios. Well, yeOryios shared some insight with me about the whole "quest to find a decent guy" experience. Paraphrasing: "dogs will bark at EVERYTHING: good, bad, cute, ugly etc. So, chances are - they'll be the first thing to holla at a woman. And from a woman's perspective, there will be a whole bunch of dogs trying to talk to her. aside: like Sara's saying "it's hard to see the forest for the sleaze..." And go rent Hitch, while you're at it - but back to yeOryios: Meanwhile, the decent guy - not the player who thinks he's the shiznit, and is trying to date models, but the really decent, good guy - is chillin, waiting for her to fend those dogs off, so he can find his opening. He won't approach her while she's fending off dogs, because he doesn't want to get shooed off with the rest of the losers. Hell, chances are - he may wait for her to approach him instead, just so he doesn't get lumped in with the rest of the bunch. And in the meantime, those good guys, are alone as well.
jezebel said what?:: You heard there's a man-shortage, right? Oh girl - it was in: Essence, Ebony, Mademoiselle, Glamour, Cosmopolitan, jane...heck, I think they talked about the impact for working mothers in Ms.Magazine. And there was a related story in Newsweek that the bloggers picked up and ran with. Mm-hm, they talked about it this morning on Today. Matter of fact I just got an email, that included a link to Rev. Wilhelm Wilson's sermon about it, that Jill Johnson wrote about in the Washington Post. Oh yeah, I know you saw her on Opraah, it was Wednesday, just two days after D.L. King was on there. Mm-hm, yeah - I heard he's got a play about it, starring Malic Yeoba. No not that one, that one was written by Teyeler Perry, and Malic ain't in that. But I did hear they were going to talk about that one tomorrow on Micheael Baasden. Girl, you know I'm going to tune in, I can't miss a day without my Micheael Baasden.
And we start looking at ourselves differently, allowing our view to be colored by the dogs barking a the bottom of that tree (oh, that analogy is painful, even if it's accurate). I think 
However, I pointed some negative things about myself that he probably never would've noticed had I not told him. They were minor, but still unnecessary. And at the end of the day, because he acted like a perfect gentleman, I didn't know how to react. Still don't. So, was it a good date? Yes, I had a good time. Does he actually like me? I think he did, before I inserted foot in said mouth. Will anything come of this? da hell if I know.
