YA DON'T SAY...

How many languages y'all speak?

I’m fluent in at least 2...


So.....I went Upstate for C-mas. Ended up staying thru New Years. He did, too.

We met up at a party, threw a few back.

“You know Wise, I don’t think you and I have ever been on a real date-date.”

“You might be right.”

“Would you go out on a real date with me while we’re home?”

“I think you should ask me when neither of us is under the influence,” I answered over my shoulder, and returned to the task of shaking azz against his front.

He called the next morning and asked again…I accepted. A few days later we had a near perfect date.

Dinner at a restaurant frequented by wealthy, elderly white people. Wine from the spot in France where he lived for a hot sec. Cranberry mojito. Nonstop quality catching up, missing the last 2 showings that night of whatever movie he had selected for us to see.

Then back to his mom’s house to watch the porn I got him for his b-day. [FYI – Mom was out of town.] We sat side by side on a plush, shallow futon, hovering over the naked bodies slithering sweaty against one another on the oversized screen of his laptop. My hands to myself. His, respectfully draped above my shoulders. The flick was so ghetto and hilarious… a secession of group sex situations staged in Section 8 digs. Stretch marks, bullet wounds, testicular razor bumps, and ash, all in prominent supporting roles.

I was slightly preoccupied by the glare from the screen that rested on the impressive bulge pulsing in his jeans...and the subtle pool flooding mine. When he warmed his hands on my bare skin, under my shirt as if the stitches of my bra were puritanical boundaries…my only movement was to get more comfortable on the couch.

In my mind, however, I was narrowly ruminating in the pleasure. Not giving in…unwilling to surrender the psychological, let alone physical edge too soon. In my mind, I was on fire, and wanting him more and more in more ways than I care to admit.

But what I said was, “Oh shit, Pres. F0rd died!”

The porn had concluded and had been replaced with SportsCen+er.

“I had no idea he played football,” he said.

It was late, and before I left, I replied to his nonverbal request for a kiss, with an offer of my cheek and a, “I had a great time, as always, Mr. Him.”

This cat speaks French, but I don’t think he knew how to interpret ‘what I didn’t say’…bec he asked me a few nights later, after another night out.

I’m not pressed to give in to him just yet. He still lives there and I still live here. But he did kind of up the ante when I reminded him that we had agreed to “just be cool.”

“Do you think we could ever be more than just ‘cool’?”

I was surprised to hear him ask that. I did a quick bedroll [don’t act like you don’t roll around in bed when someone on the other end of the phone excites you!]…and told him honestly that I had no way of knowing yet.

“I want to see you a lot more, Wise.” Thank God I had on my armor, cuz he was laying it on pretty thick. We made plans to visit soon.

After talking, hanging out and texting every day during the holidays, I didn’t hear from him for almost a week after we left. And in that time I knew exactly what he was not saying.

Thank God I didn’t get caught up in his rhetoric…I’d be going crazy trying to figure out what was thinking and wondering if I should call him and shit. And while I know he was being sincere, thank God I also know that he subscribes to an ‘out of sight out of mind’ sort of defense mechanism. I know without his confirmation that he has opted to come to B-More on the later of the two weekends we discussed. I know that he is setting some boundaries of his own, some distance.

I know that he has a non-verbal alibi. He's a man, after all. If ever his words come back to haunt him, or if I were to display any dependency on that particularly intimate convo, he can always rely confidently on his 'silent evidence'.

If I were to all of a sudden jump the gun and say, “Hey let’s be more than cool”…he will recoil under the pressure and present a defense that says a whole different song and dance than his words. I know this because I know him.

My friends and I can look back and laugh at our younger days when we would've undoubtedly fallen into that bullshit ditch.

Today, I smile and understand. I’m straight fluent in the language of omission...just hoping the magic doesn't get lost in translation.

Plus, talk is cheap! :)