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Day 8 – No Pink Ballerina Dreams…

March 5, 2012

So I hung up on Dionne, and whilst I was tryna build up the strength to call Marcus, I watched a Sex and the City re-run. The one program where I don’t wish they were all black by the way…

(…cos can we get a decent black sitcom in this country already?)

But Sex and the City doesn’t do that to me. I accept Samantha, Charlotte, Miranda, and Carrie. Maybe because they are so darned relatable. I can be Miranda slash Carrie slash Miranda more Miranda, except she ends up marrieded and childed and good jobbed and I’m not there yet, but I look up to her life.


I sometimes think of her when I’m feeling melancholy. But I don’t want to be her. Cos I am a Black Panther and I don’t care about white people’s lives. Cos they don’t care about mine. OK, OK apart from some like …

Anyway, so when I got half way through Sex and the City my mobile rang. My mobile rang. My mobile rang. I jumped cos I wasn’t expecting it to ring. I jumped because I still have that belief…

…or that my future husband who has been watching me from afar got my number from a friend and finally found the guts to call me… so I scrambled around trying to find it to answer it but I missed it cos my phone is never where it should be…and then when I did find it and checked it, it came up as a private number…which got me excited cos Marcus’ work number shows up as private…so I thought yeah it’s HIM…and then she did it…

…see cos as much as I love it, I also really hate when Carrie ends up saying something that makes me realize what’s missing, who’s missing, or what I’m lacking in my life which then makes me cry. But in true Carrie, dream life styleee in the next scene her life’s all romantic and fluffy and right and perfect again which as much as it gives me hope, it also makes me realize what’s missing, who’s missing, or what I’m lacking in my life…which again makes me cry!

So for a second I wasn’t going to phone him cos what was the effing bloody point Mr BIG! But then Mr Big in the END realises what Carrie had been shouting in every season of the show, so I manned up and I called Marcus, and was all like, ‘Oh hi, did you call a minute ago?’ But it wasn’t him. So through the pain and shame, I had to act like ‘oh ok well then I’m off cos I’m very, very busy’. But he said he was nearby, so I said ok.

So then I hung up, then had to run around madly. Wash my girly area again, shave my legs, quickly yet carefully. Get dry, then run back to the bathroom. Forgot  to do my armpits, and the belly bit underneath my belly button. My hair there doesn’t grow in a neat line like Mags and Tameka’s, instead it emerges in a thistly group like the hairs are plotting mass destruction

Then out and dried again. Run round the flat naked, pushing things, pulling things, throwing things. Washing dishes then, WHATEVER’ed the dishes, and shut the kitchen door.

Then stand confused for a bit. Then remember. Bag of snacks just at hand’s reach when I’m watching telly, pushed further under the bed.

Then makeup, just a little, then sexy underwear, black, lacy, sheer. He likes that. Then bum hugging tracksuit bottoms and skimpy vest top. Lie on the bed and wait, then get up take off bra so nipples poke through material.

Then wait. Then this comes on…

Makes me want to cry. While I’m waiting for Marcus to make sweet damn sex with me. This is what bugs me about me. I could be in the best situation, and then I want to cry. Then the situation becomes everything that’s wrong. None of the others cry when a good-looking man is on his way to pleasure them. But damn Lauryn with this damn song…which is my damn SOOOOOONG.  Then my effing mobile rings. So I have to wipe my face. And act like everything’s all good in the hood.

His head’s down when he comes in. not sad down, just not acknowledging me. Then we talk. Eye to eye. We go straight to my room. We have a smoke. He brings the weed. I don’t buy it anymore cos I’m trying not to be a part of the criminal world.

We get lifted. Then we do it.  All over each other. Around each other. All to the back drop of the music channel. Adverts and all.

At one point I nearly died. They decided to do an Alicia Keys Top 10 best love song thingy…so all in a row…

and then…

which made me feel conflicted cos this is what I play whenever I’m getting my NO ONE DON’T LOVE ME concert on…and then my Alicia song, my Alicia mantra, My Alicia We are the World’ came on.

And it wasn’t when we were being all porn video. Nah we we were being all Koffee Brown, pretend husband and wife in love doing their thing…

…Oh yeah and about The Step Bang, we did it. He did it. Cos he wanted to get some edibles and edible them off me, but we, I, didn’t want him to stop cos I was nearly there, so he got up, with me, and step bang, step bang, step step bang bang…then ‘ouch’ cos he stepped on the plug of my blow-dryer that I hadn’t quite pushed under the bed far enough. So I sent him back to the room to rest and I got the edibles, that he didn’t edible off me cos the plug pain made him angry.

So then we just had Marcus sex and then he went. (Marcus sex means it was all about him.) Like no matter how good men are at pleasuring a woman, there are always those couple of times when they can’t resist acting like a schoolboy in a rush. The bang bang bang bang till they…and you haven’t…so you wait for more…but they can’t…cos they bang banged it all out.

So that was it. We didn’t even talk. And I didn’t care. Cos he finished on the bang bang…

So this time I was all ‘I hate you and this is the last effin’ time do you un-der-stand!!’ all in my head of course but it was a loudly thought thought!!!

I went back to bed, meaning to call Dionne but I couldn’t be bothered, cos there was nothing left to say. Just sat and watched the music. Wanting to cry, but not because of Marcus, he is an arsehole and an-nee-way I don’t even love him. That much, anymore, sometimes.

THEN he rang. But I let it go to answer-machine. Cos I am tough and I don’t care. Then I rang him back cos what if he was calling to say he loved me, or that he was downstairs with his stuff and wanted to  move in…

He said that he thought he’d left his watch, and he did, so yes he could. But not tonight cos he couldn’t be bothered. I didn’t mind that he couldn’t be bothered, cos I would be the same. Shut-up Soul. You don’t know me yet. But I may admit that I may have maybe come all the way back from effing Timbuctoo if I’d left something at his. But shut up cos you don’t know me.

Anyway the end of today’s story is that he’s coming round tomorrow. So Soul I need you to think and then tell me…

1) Should I stand at my door, watch in hand, then drop it nonchalantly into his hand, bid him adieu and close door politely yet firmly cos I am watching Eastenders.

Or 2) Should I stand at the door with watch between teeth, hand in hot pink lacy panties, other hand in afro, big smile around clenched watch holding teeth, or …3) …

Goodnight. Soul.

From → The Soul Pages

  1. This post made me LOOOOOOOL. You should write that “decent black sitcom” yourself! Don’t get angry. Do it! x

  2. The Soul Pages permalink


    I think it’s on the bloody cards!!!

    thanks 🙂

    Ebs xxx

  3. reefsgirl permalink

    Ebs, Just love reading ur episodes its like a sitcom/drama all by its self
    I don’t even need the visuals,cause I Get the picture 😉
    Keep doing ya thing sis x

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