"Let it Go" or "What about the Neighbors?" (Guest Blogger)

As I prepare to do it up for this holiday weekend I've decided to call in one of my blog familia members to drop a lil Friday Freakism on you. Enjoy the Episode and hopefully y'all will create a few this weekend as well. And with that being said I turn it over to Goddess Intellect.

Initially I felt strongly against writing this comeback kid edition of freak-um Friday. Firstoff, its my personal business I’m putting in the online world and secondly I’m a reserved person by nature. But I see it this way lately I have revealed more about my personal life than the average blogger, in fact I believe I have developed a rapport with folks because of my bold saucy posts. Shoot, I have nothing to hide anymore. Its like that feeling you get when you make love with the lights on and stare in your lover’s eyes, its liberating.

Many people loathe rain. They hate the effects it has on hair, clothes, and plans for outdoor activity. I’ve learned to love the rhythmic serenity of rain . Maybe not a I’ll-walk-outside-in-the-pouring-rain-for-an-hour love, but a love that forces folks to stop, drop and roll if you know what I mean.

One rainy evening I found myself entrapped in the confines of my one-bedroom palace with a mixed cocktail, stew chicken dinner and a familiar face. We hung out in similar circles , went to the same school at one point and lived a few houses apart but never connected the dots.

Months back he spotted me in a local supermarket, looking ghetto fabulous with my snow boots and parka. I wanted nothing to do with his ass…NOTHING. Over the next while he persisted. The more he persisted the more I grew suspicious. He never inserted raw dawg sexuality into any of his attempts, yet I suspected a cover up. That smile was a little too perfect, the height was Oh so right and the attire was Gq’d to no end.

That night he spoke passionately of building, creating and uplifting. He painted his vision for me so vividly you’d swear he was a painter or a poet. I had yet to have an extensive conversation with a man who valued the same things I did. As the night progressed our conversation thickened and my vision became hazed as I sat and admired the sauntering leader this boy from around the way had become. He glided from story to story updating me on the gaps that needed to be filled in since I had moved from the old neighborhood. I never forget where I come from and he wasn’t about to let me forget neither.

He became excited when I spoke of my vision and actively offered suggestions to help me get there. He revealed that he had never worried about me and my future despite the ex I was with at the time. He had admired my inner and exterior beauty for as long as we were neighbors. I was stunned, but now only mildly suspicious.

I felt more than safe sitting beside him, however I felt a wave of relief and guilt pass over me at the same time. I had it all wrong, the cover was just as good as the book. That night to both our surprise I read each of his chapters, not overlooking his foreword and all of his appendixes. I let all inhibitions go. All the pent up doubt and frustrations I had with myself that blocked me opening up myself to dating were released. Mutinously I threw all my rules and regulations for sex and dating out the window, and for a moment while in the titillating throws of ecstasy I panicked. It had been more than a few years since I shared my own bed with a man. The palace walls are thin and a portly pubescent freckled face boy’s room is adjacent to mine. I know this because unfortunately I hear his ass chatting away every morning.

“Oh my gawd, what about the neighbors?”

“What about them?”

he was uncooperative so I covered my own mouth. I quivered, shaked and baked in the heat we generated, my five spread eagle fingers didn’t do jack to muffle my moans. He grabbed my hands off my face and propelled me closer to the wall. He could sense that I wanted so badly for us to get caught, scolded, reprimanded and schooled.

Next morning the portly freckled face boy greeted us with a kool-aid smile as we walked out of the building. I guess we schooled him that night.