Purified DaSani by A. Dakala

No more sex until a man puts a ring on my finger and ready to get married in 30 days.

My last relationship was a hit or miss. This man wouldn’t even answer his phone half of the time. I hate having to call someone three or four times, then get a text message back fifteen minutes later saying “call you in a few minutes”. A bunch of unnecessary bullshit I call it. As soon as I would tell him how I feel about it he would get all in his feelings; then it would turn into an argument. This time I took a different approach, I didn’t pick up my damn phone when he called. After an hour had passed, my doorbell rang around eleven o’clock. I made sure I came to the door wearing my favorite lingerie, my ass bulging out and nipples exposed. I would normally great him with a hug and kiss, but not tonight. I open the door and turned and walked away towards the bedroom. He stood there taking off his shoes because I didn’t play walking in my house with your shoes on. As soon as I got in the bedroom, I put on some house shorts and a t-shirt. By the time he made his way to the bedroom I had my back turnt and earbuds in my ear playing Beyonce. “Won’t be no pussy for his ass this weekend that’s for sure.” I was saying to myself.

I woke up in the middle of the night to write in my journal. He never made it to bed; instead he was lying across the foot of the bed with his clothes still on. I shut the bedroom door so I wouldn’t disrupt him and goes into the living room.

This negro doesn’t realize the prize possession he has been blessed with. I don’t club, I don’t smoke, I have a great career, my sex is to die for, I take care of his ass and my home is his home. I don’t stress him about coming to his house because I know his dad leaves there and sells drugs. I’m not trying to be caught there in some type of police raid. I deserve better, I demand better! He walks around with his phone in the waistline of his boxers and it’s always on silent. “I need some church wine Lord” I said. Walking into the kitchen I tripped over his damn shoes just lying in the middle of the hall way. As I picked one of them up; a hotel room key falls out. Something is not right about the red flags God has presented to me right now. My hand started shaking in the middle of my thought process. I turned on the TV and there was an infomercial playing. The message was clear as if it was speaking to me. “To be treated like a Queen, you must first be purified mentally and understand your worth physically. One doesn’t disarm separately; it’s a package deal”.

With my pistol in and and cell phone in hand to dail 9-1-1 if needed too; I woke that nigga up at 3:13 am and gave him back his hotel room key. I told him he needed to go check on that bitch at the Holiday Inn Express and I needed him to leave my place now; oh and take anything that belongs to him; since you won’t be coming back! Of course he wanted to plead his case blame his homeboy that I never met or knew.

As soon as my door shut behind his ass; I turned on my alarm, took out my gold case from my panty drawer, grabbed my KY Jelly lubrication and hit the power switch on my dildo!

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