Black Girls Lives Matter (R. Kelly is sick) by A. Dakala

I have bought every cd that R. Kelly has ever dropped until now. He even wrote and produced “Spend the night” by a group of guys (N-Phase) I grew up with. At this point I can give a damn about his talent; there is something seriously wrong with this grown man that meds can not cure.

There’s three addictive drugs in the world; Crack, Heroin and R. Kelly.

Hate me as much as you want; but I got to speak my mind about this disease that Robert “R. Kelly” Kelly has. Preying on young immature girls so he can manipulate their minds is not only sick but events of a sociopath. A real man would send these girls home; knowing that they have mothers and fathers who are hurt and torn deep down in their souls. Yet and still R. Kelly seems to play, plot and prey on these young victims by using his celebrity status as bait to catch his victims. Soon the money is going to run out and all the people around him that’s protecting him will either go down with him and turn against him. There’s no other options.

This has gone on long enough; dated back to the sex tape when he had sex with a underage child. He needs help and someone, somebody is not doing their job. Either there’s some people getting paid off or they’re just as much involved. How can you be a monster, predator, sex offender, child molester, manipulator, abuser and still able to walk the streets and make money from music; glorifying acts of sexual abuse?

Bill Cosby went to jail from acts that happen over 30 years ago; like he should have. Donald Trump should be next and not running this country. These R. Kelly acts; not accusations are happening now. Welfare checks are happening now.

Lawyers, Judges, DA’s, Prosecutors, Warden, Police and whoever will listen, do your damn jobs. Save these girls from this demon. If these were white females; he would be on death row years ago. Black girls lives matter; Lock R. Kelly up!

High Maintenance won’t find you love by A. Dakala

So you are a high maintenance woman looking for Mr. Right to settle down and fall in love with. Remember first impressions means everything in the eyes of a man and woman; what a person sees is what they have to deal with short or long term.

Not saying that it’s impossible and women can’t have exactly what they want when it comes to a man but think about the man on the other end interested in you as a woman; what is he thinking when he sees the name brand clothing, designer nails, flawless make-up, luxury cars and the Ms. Independent attitude? What can a man bring to the table that you don’t already provide for yourself? A man’s hindsight is beauty and looks doing a first impression. If it looks expensive during the first impression; a lot of the times you have lost us on the first meet and greet. Yes it’s very expensive to date; a simple night out for dinner would cost you anywhere from eighty to one hundred and fifty dollars give or take.

So ladies there’s a way to still be high maintenance, looking good, have nice things and show your Independence without seeking a man with money.

There’s different ways to take care of a man and woman’s needs that are not materialistic. Sometimes the best love is the love that’s genuine; not the type of love that you pay for through monetary contributions.

This new generation has lost his way when it comes to dating. Someone, some friend, some Hater has embedded in some women’s mind that is not okay to take your man out on a date and spend money on him. Just because you’re walking through Phipps Plaza or Lenox Mall don’t mean you can’t afford it. A lot of people are driving luxury cars that they can’t even afford and lying their heads where they’re just tenants paying somebody else’s mortgage. So let’s get to the bread and butter of why being high maintenance won’t find you real love.

Story starts

It’s 2019 a new year, a new look on life, New year’s resolutions and new goals in mind. My name is Arthur Jenkins; I’ve been on my job for 20 years; I’ve grind to get to where I’m at. Living in Atlanta Georgia were ratio is thirty to one; it’s hard to find a real quality woman who’s really looking for love and not an insurance policy. Society has painted the picture of lifestyles of the rich and famous. It seems like everyone’s looking for someone with money, a nice car or living in a mini mansion; when they not bringing nothing to the table.

I love the finer things in life and things that I work hard for the things that I grind for, the things that I feel I deserve as an independent man of standards. So ask yourself; what’s more important; love or luxuries? Yes you can have both, but one out weighs the other.

So I met Bethany Curry, walking through the Mall of Georgia last night. I was there shopping for a pair of Cole Haan shoes. Of course I was dressed down, I had just left the gym and wanted to run inside before the mall closed.

I couldn’t help notice a beautiful mocha chocolate stallion walking towards me with highlighted hair and no rings on a finger. She looked and spoke with her lips in passing. I didn’t want to make it obvious and look back as most of us men do; so I dropped my keys just to look back. She also paused and look back thinking that maybe she had dropped her keys and we made eye contact. She smiled; then went into Victoria Secrets; I paused for second. Today I will be shopping for panties for an unknow female that doesn’t exist but I’m determined to make contact with chocolate mocha. I could tell she was high maintenance; she smelled good, she looks amazing and body was banging. I know she works out daily and she was working those Gucci heels.

I approached her like a gentleman. “Hi beautiful, how are you?”

A Heart Choice to make by A. Dakala

Waddell Crosby wasn’t your typical African American male with a college degree, tons of street smarts and loved by the ladies. He was the kind of man that a woman could love one night and call her best friend on other days; someone who would have your back and go to war with you whether you was wrong or right. Once Waddell was committed to you he would give you 100% of him; no part time anything in his life with reason.

A single man who could give a woman more than just a materialistic diamond ring or a Tiffany bracelet; he was the kind of man that most women would dream of having. Someone who showed unconditional love whether it was holding her hand while driving, arms locked while walking across the street or kissing on her neck standing in the checkout line at Walmart. Regardless anyone around Waddell would know that he showed his love to whoever he was with; his smile would light up a room; his well-groomed beard was somewhat perfect as if he was modeling his beard for a magazine cover, his cologne scent traveled from block the block. Fahrenheit was his favorite cologne; both men and women would always approached him and compliment him on how good he smelled.

But now there’s a new year approaching; 2019! Waddell is ready to settle down with one special woman in his life. The problem he’s having is he has been dating consistently three different women. There’s been no commitment to either woman just consistently dating, conversing on the phone but he have had sex with all three of them at some point throughout the course of dating them. Each one of these females bring something different to the table that one doesn’t have and now Waddell has to decide on the qualities that these female brings. Which one are branded qualities and which ones are qualities that could make a break a good love relationship.

First there was Fresca Sparkle, she’s sweet as black cherry citrus on a hot summer day but cold as winter. She was smart as Albert Einstein; love to read books and would correct you for using improper grammar as if she was a school teacher wearing Gucci shades standing in high heels. Well educated; holding a master’s degree. She really could have been a doctor. The problem with Fresca; she wasn’t consistent or persistent and couldn’t remember what she did day after day. She wasn’t into fashions, brands didn’t mean nothing to her. A typical day of dressing up for her would be wearing a nice sweatsuit with some flip flops and she would throw her long black hair back into a ponytail but she was sexy as hell though and very beautiful. She reminded me of a California woman cool, calm and collective that just wanted to be loved by a good man. Sex with her was like flipping a coin, some days it was good, some days it was just ok and sometimes it didn’t exist. When we was out on a date we had a great time holding hands, conversing and laughing with each other as if we were best friends and lovers; but there was another side to her that I hated. She always wanted to play the victim never was wrong, always was right and not to mention I caught her in so many lies I just never addressed it, it just wasn’t that serious to me. Another thing that I observed was all of her friends seem to be gay or lesbians.

One thing I did love about her though; no matter what she had my back. She never put her friends before her man even though I truly wasn’t her man but we were dating and she would drop her plans that she had to spend time with me on any given day. Fresca loved cleaning her house always kept it clean very family oriented; that definitely was a plus coming from a man who wanted to have kids and build his own foundation of a family. She paid her bills on time, she didn’t club, she didn’t drink unless it was socially and she never smoked. She was a good girl trying to be better and made it to the scale of wifey material possibly.

Secondly there was Constant Bauman; sexy as hell on the outside, wore the latest fashions, smell good and look good in everything she wore; a true diamond in the rough. Whatever the latest fashion and brands out there where she had it or plan to get it. The problem I had with her was she had low self-esteem and she couldn’t seem to make her own decisions without seeking the advice of her fake friends. Once again another female playing the victim like her shit don’t stink. Another issue I had with her was it seemed that all of her friends around her were gay or lesbians even though she claimed that she was 100% straight. I can tell in conversation that she’s dated a lot of men in her past life not that she’s had sex with all of them but she’s dating a lot of men most of them were drug dealers, on drugs at some point or proclaim to have money.

Now what I did love about her is the sex we had was off the chart; it was no holds bar. Whatever we wanted to do we did. I was truly addicted to making love to this woman; it was always exciting, full of energy and she threw it back just as much as I gave it to her. I can honestly say I never had a sexual complaint when it came to her, hell I’m thinking about sexing her right now as I’m writing this. She loved cleaning her house; always kept it clean; sometimes I wondered was it all just a showboat to impress people. Was she wifey material? She could be but there was a few things that she definitely would need to work on; like handling the same things that she dishes out. She was a work in progress; a good girl trying to be better.

Thirdly there’s Anastasia Faust; also a very smart and intelligent individual that would sometimes give you the impression that she knew way more than you did on any subject, any topic, any time of the day. She would definitely intimidate a weak man especially when it comes to making life decisions. Granted every man in her past life followed her lead as if she wore the pants. I guess that’s what happened when a strong-minded woman meets a man with no potential and the men in her past had no potential for what I’m hearing.

One of the things I didn’t like about her is not having enough drive in her life to do better or want more. Yes she was college educated but I still feel like she didn’t apply herself. She had a great mind for business, good with numbers, great with her hands; love to figure things out or read instructions and put things together. Family oriented on a scale of 1 to 10 I would say she was a four. The type of woman who at some point in her life wanted her freedom away from kids. Now when it comes to having a clean house, she damn sure was a pack rat and the whole time that we’ve been dating; I never seen her pick up a broom, a mop or even dust rag; kind of reminded me of a hoarder.

One thing I did love about her is the sex was great. Definitely no holds bar; there was no rules or no regulations; she could go all night; I made a tap out a few times. I never had to initiate sex with her as soon as she seen me it was hugs, kisses and then she would start unbutton my clothes. A true man’s dream; I’m closing my eyes now just picturing the softness of her lips on my entire body from head to toe. Well she wifey material definitely with alittle adjustment. She didn’t club, she didn’t smoke and she would only drink socially; she just loved having a good time and just wanted to be loved by a good man. A good girl trying to be better.

So I decided in the year 2019 I was going to make a final decision and choose only one of these ladies to be a part of my life, my circle, my growth and the last brick to my foundation. So I decided to choose from a very heart decision; Ms.!

Fingers crossed under oath by A. Dakala

I truly didn’t give a damn about telling the truth under oath; I raised my right hand with pride put left hand on the Bible and told God to forgive me silently as I close my eyes. I wanted to be picked as a juror as badly as I wanted to hit the lottery. I had some inside connections at the courthouse that made sure my application was put upfront. So when they sent me the letter in the mail; I said yes the day has come for my family to get Justice for my cousin Jelly. See my nickname was peanut butter and anytime you seen me, you seen jelly; peanut butter and jelly, we we’re different but one in the same. The man who murdered my cousin street name was Breadman; Street Hustler, con man, pathological liar but he also was jealous of everything Peanut Butter and Jelly did in the streets. So we set him up and planted evidence that would only make him the prime suspect.

I meant I was nervous the first day the all of the jurors had to check in at the courthouse. I prayed that if they ran a background check on me that I didn’t have any type of open warrants that resurfaced from the years of dirt that me and jelly did growing up. I didn’t care what anybody else in the room decided or did if they was chosen to be a juror, my mind was already made up that his ass would get convicted. I knew this wasn’t going to be a case of a hung jury. I was going to make sure that his ass did his time and if anybody felt like he wasn’t guilty they was going to have to deal with me. I had a back-up plan for a back-up plan that backed up my backup plan. I’ve already spotted out the weakest link in the room some dusty old ass lady hair whiter than snow looking at me from the corner of her eyes. Then there’s this white guy who wouldn’t make eye contact with me probably voted for Donald Trump acting like he was scared as hell, he had bit all of his finger nails down to the fingers.

As they passed around the questionnaire application for everyone to fill out. I raised my head and scanned around the room just to see who was really into filling out the paperwork who I need to keep my eye on. These questions would determine if you would be a good fit or not; I lied on every question that was asked even down to my ethnic group. Hell know I wasn’t just African-American today; no not today. Today I was African-American mixed with whatever the hell they wanted me to be mixed with; I was going to become a juror.

As we all got separated in groups I made sure I did not communicate with a soul in the room. I had my shirt button to the neck like a nerd, I wore reading glasses that I could barely see out of and make sure I didn’t make any eye contact with the deputy that kept peeping his peasy ass head in and out of the door checking on everyone. “Where’s Cabana Sienna?” He asked. I raise my eyebrows and look over the top of my glasses staring at the deputy and slightly raised my finger the signal that I was him. “Come with me” he said. The little dusty ass lady made some sound gesture as I walked by; I looked back at her and rolled my eyes. I wanted to pat my ass at her but she turned looked in the opposite direction.

“Cabana Sienna is everything on your application truthful to the best of your knowledge” the judge said. I had my fingers crossed as my left hand was stuffed in my front pocket; and my right hand raised. The judge gave me a stamped document and a name tag that had my name on it and I was officially Juror number 1 1 1 7.

I had made it to the final stage and considered an official juror in the murder case of De’Angelo “Jelly” Sienna.

On the first day of the murder case this will be the first time that I had seen Jelly’s murderer face to face in court. As I stared at him without blinking an eye; he notice me and in his own words silently uttered the words Butter you up next.

Lawyers for both sides presented their evidence; they either was going to spare his life or take his life and my job was to take his life by all means necessary.

Day two and day three passes with more evidence; more finger pointing and a lot more work that I needed to do. He had no alibi; there was no witnesses.

On the fourth day unexpectedly we were dismissed; there was no evidence presented this day but they did announce that they had a witness that came forward my heart dropped.

On the 5th day as all the jurors who was selected gathered together to talk about the evidence on the murder case; there were a few cops who I didn’t quite remember or recognize that was on the scene 5 years ago. Also the old Dusty lady, the silent racist white guy who couldn’t make eye contact with me and some Asian chick who didn’t have on a name tag, but had a note pad and pen in her hand were the chess pieces of the game. Maybe the Asian chick was there just taking notes or she could have been one of the jurors who knows, who cares I had a job to do; I needed to get somebody’s ass convicted of Jelly’s murder. I was nervous, I started to sweating wondering who was this witness. As I replayed that night back in my head there couldn’t have been a witness it was only me, Breadman and Jelly.

On the 6th day I was pissed because the whole room was undecided; pretty much a split down the middle of a conviction. I stood my ground and tried to convince others who didn’t want to convict, the reason why a conviction was necessary. After nearly six hours, It seemed to have worked as I had planned. Everybody talked as if a conviction was the best solution in the murder case. We were just waiting to give the judge our vote.

We could hear the Deputies walking down the hallway towards the room that we were waiting in. Then the door open an a Deputy stuck his head in the room and said “Butter, Judge Gotcha’ass needs to have a word with you immediately.”

Quepasa by A. Dakala

Sitting at the bar having my usual shots of tequila. Mentally I’m exhausted from work and my home life seems to be a joggling act; trying to get my house sold. Not to mention I had to curse out my next door neighbor for allowing his deranged mutt to continuously shit on my lawn after I threaten to call the dog pound.

Once again I find myself giving someone chance after chance. Back to my mental exhaustion; I guess it has a lot to do with how my love life seems to be a run away train at times. Then the bombshell of the entire week was finding out my man has a child on the way with my manager’s sister that he has been keeping a secret from me. Though I didn’t know he dated this incompetent ghetto barbie until I saw his picture on my manager’s Facebook page. As I think back to it now I’m wondering is this the reason I keep getting looked over on promotions I apply for and my home sex life seems to be a daily excuse.

Today hasn’t been a good day; the ghetto Barbie is here visiting her sister; my manager at the office and I have to look her in her face. I want to curse her ass out and beat that ass but I blame my so call man. I know my manager knows a lot more then I do about the situation. If I could just get her ass fired or key her car may be flatten her tires or loosen the lugs; I would feel better. Mentally I want to get revenge on everyone around me that’s involved with this shit show. Being the Christian woman I’m trying to be i know that’s not right.

Last night he called me trying to apologize in one breath and then in another breath he’s trying to say that she was there for him when I wasn’t. I guess me giving up my dreams of getting my master degree and taking out loans so his ass could have a car to drive to work or paying his past due bills so his beacon score could look halfway decent wasn’t me being there for him. This sorry son-of-a-bitch didn’t even have the nerve to come home on my birthday and I took off that day from his request.

Tonight I think I’m putting his ass out I don’t give a damn where he goes, I know he can go stay with her; for my understanding she lives with her sister. I think today is going to be my last day at work; I’ve had it up to here I have a nice savings account that I can afford to be without a job for at least 6 months. There should be no problem for me finding a job and after tonight I know shit will hit the fan at work because I’m about let it all out.

So my plan is to prepare a nice lovely steak dinner, with salad, loaded baked potatoes; and his favorite bottle of wine. I might have Marvin Gaye or Teddy pendergrass playing and then I’mma let his ass have it as I throw all that shit in the garbage can, with a thank you card and his suit case standing by the exit!

Dirty bird by A.Dakala

Deuce “Bird” Fletcher was a name the streets ran from, was a name that nobody wanted to cross paths with. His background spoke for itself; the outside of him look like a normal African American male that had his shit together and in order. He was clean-cut, always smell good; wearing the newest colonge, clothes were casket Sharp but he was a psycho, a pathological liar who would kill a man at a drop of a dime. Known to tie bricks to a man’s ankles and throw him off the spaghetti junction bridge during rush hour traffic. This negro was a monster; a nightmare you would only see in your dreams but would have you waking you at 3am in the morning pissing in your clothes.

Though he represented Atlanta Georgia to the fullest; no one knew his background, where he was born and raised ,who his parents were or even if he had siblings. Not to mention if there were any offsprings he fathered throughout the years; society could only pray there wasn’t another one like him anywhere on earth.

Every relationship he has ever had with a female would only last 6 to 8 months before they would pack their bags and relocate to an unknown state; due to the type of individual he was capable of being.

Revenge to him was like an appetizer on a menu; you will get served what you deserve.

The other day a motorist cut him off by running a red light and he followed the vehicle until it came to a stopping point; their residents. He stood their at the driver door as the gentleman roll down his window in fear. Without saying a word he tasered the guy, “now you will think twice about cutting someone else off.” The man slumped over in the front seat as if he was having a seizure. Bird put the taser back in his coat pocket, got in his car and drive off like he was just visiting for Sunday dinner.

No one knew about the other personality of Bird that always seem to bring him to a much needed calm state of mind.

A Pastor who robbed God by A. Dakala

Hell where shall I begin. Met this brother on a online dating site and things between us clicked very well in fact we shared the exact same birthday together and ironically drive the same car. I just had to meet him. So after two weeks of texting and conversation we decided to meet up at a Buffalo wild wings in Sandy Springs perimeter area. Of course I got there first, wanting to make sure I wasn’t being catfished by the exchange of pictures I had became attractive too.

He pulled up in a white vehicle, so far so good he has great taste in cars. I made my way from my car to his vehicle before he could step foot out on the pavement. We greeted each with a hug. Very nice and he smelt good too almost didn’t want to let go. We walked closely into the sports bar as if he was already my man. I kept thinking to myself; we look good together. The only two things I didn’t too much care for was the blonde box hair style with the b-boy lines in the back. Not to say it didn’t look good but only if you were in your twenties. But it was his style so if he loves it I like it. The second thing was wanting to ask him did he workout because he did have a rather overweight Belly; but wore it well. At this point in my life it wasn’t about the physical anymore with guys I wanted a great personality. Plus I was alittle self conscious about my teeth, they was straight and pearly whites as his was but in due time I would be working on paying for that perfect smile like half of America. I’m sure he did too. It didn’t keep me from laughing and smiling enjoying the evening with mister Detroit.

Our conversation over lemon pepper wings were very engaging and deep as we discuss relationships and family. There were no hold bars as we looked into each other’s pupils. This was the start of something great and we couldn’t stop mentioning that having birthdays on the same date was a first for the both of us.

My heart knew at this time I should have been honest with him about me still being married on paper but going through a divorce but I was thinking selfishly. I figured it would be granted soon and life could go on. Separated for 4 years and ready to go on with my life.

As time passes and days turned into months the layers of La’Troy Murray started coming off. I noticed that all of his friends were gay, lesbians or bi. One of his best friends was HIV positive that we often sat on the phone and gossip with daily. The more we interacted the more I saw his low self steem and needing his Friends to validate who he was. Not to mention a label whore sort of; always trying to fit in with a brand. But I was on the outside looking in, some of his actions didn’t add up at all. I admit I wasn’t 100% honest myself in the beginning, because I fell in love; but that doesn’t make my actions justifiable. We were together everyday, every night having sex and doing things together very often.

Then came the going to his class reunion incident that put mud all over our foundation.

So we had a disagreement once he was there and he took it upon himself not to answer my texts or calls for four days, yes it was all planned out, but he made it look good but falsely mentioning he wanted me to go. In reality he didn’t want me too. So he left and every place he said he would be was a lie. Claims he would visit his mom but his mom didn’t see him til the last day briefly after two days of being there. His best whore friend Charlie was dating a married woman and introduce La’Troy to her sister a false representative of God. She suppose to be in church actively counseling married couples but out here trying screw another woman’s man. The things hethans do for some sex.

So yes my man hung out with is devil character, enjoyed a concert with her, took pictures and to top it off went back to a hotel with her. I found out all of this by going through his phone one night while we both were sleeping and his phone kept lighting up. I wasn’t even going to presue it until the message read Regina white and thinking of you. As I read through the messages I realized he didn’t talk to me for four days because he was with this bitch as broad.

(Pastor Reggie White- counseling individuals on marriage but breaking up relationships on the weekend because the devil had him thinking with his penis.)

Grace Covenant Christian Church

2885 Clay Ave
San Diego, CA 92113

Will a man Rob God? Yes Pastor Reggie White did.

Beautiful Chaos by A. Dakala

It was a match made in heaven that turn into hell. It all started on a trip to the grocery store to buy eggs and cheese for breakfast. If it wasn’t for me Rushing that morning I would have gotten a basket instead of trying to hold all the groceries in my arm and that’s how the carton of eggs fell and splattered everywhere. There was a lady with her back turned getting milk out of the cooler, who ran to my rescue; I think she just felt sorry for me since I looked helpless. Our hands both reached for the empty carton at the same time; her hand overlapping my hand. At that moment I felt a warm sensation running up the veins of my arm that took me by surprise. Immediately my eyes got fixated on the fact that she did not have a wedding ring or any ring of that sort on her finger.

“Let me help you?” she said. This little old lady who was passing by grab the roll of paper towels off the shelf and handed them to me as we both clean the splattered eggs out of the middle of the aisle. The lady that helped me introduced herself as Samantha Rose. I was so embarrassed I just bust out laughing and reach my arm out to help her up as I repeated thank you so much. She just looked at me with such beautiful smile and hazel brown eyes “the pleasure was all mine” she said. I could only stare at her as she spoke.

One of the floor staff got a mop and started mopping the area.

I think I walked down every aisle in the store looking for Miss Rose but she was nowhere to be found. There was something about the energy I felt as both of our hands touched a feeling that I had never felt before.

As I was standing at the cash register paying for my items someone walked up behind me and tugged on the back of my shirt and as I looked around and it was Miss Rose she said that she had went to the restroom to wash her hands but came back out to give me her business card. Inside my heart was pounding, my brain was excited and my eyes were bulged out without any blinking. I offered to take her to lunch for helping me and she just smiled and said well you have my number now; whenever you decide or where you decide you want to take me to lunch please give me a call. Hell at that moment I felt like buying all the customers in the store cartons of eggs; this woman was beautiful.

As I was sitting at the stop light headed home I locked her number in my phone with every intentions of calling her once I got settled or finish breakfast that morning. I placed my cell phone on the coffee table and started cooking breakfast as my dog Mimi walk in and out of the kitchen. I was only in the kitchen for less than 45 minutes when I heard Mimi playing in the bathroom toilet again.

As I walked in the bathroom I could have just hit the wall Mimi had dropped my cell phone in the toilet and was trying to flush it. All I could think about was Miss Rose that I met today; I didn’t know her number by heart and I promised her that I would give her a call tonight. Now I’m fishing for my cell phone out of the toilet and it would not turn on.

Mimi knew I was very disappointed and exited quickly out of the bathroom and ran and hide under my bed.

the first thing that came to mind was to take my cell phone and submerged in a sandwich bag full of rice, I was told putting your wet cell phone in rice sometimes take an hour sometimes a day or two but eventually it would come on not sure of the logic behind it but I’ve heard that it works. Every hour I was checking my cell phone to see would it turn on and every hour I was disappointed I watch the clock go from 7pm, to 8pm to 9pm and I really didn’t want to break my promise of calling her.

I woke up depressed this morning because the whole night pass and I did not retrieve Miss Rose’s number to give her a call like I promise. All I kept saying to myself was how can something that seems so right go so wrong; from a simple cell phone being dropped in the toilet full of water.

as days passed I found myself going back to that same grocery store around the same time each weekend just hoping that I would run into Miss Rose and explain to her the reason why she hasn’t heard from you. Even the grocery store clerk that helped us clean up the mess was asked by me did he remember the lady who helped that day. He said “yes she comes in here all the time”; but he hadn’t seen her in the last couple of days.

After a week of searching for Miss Rose my heart gave up and my mind was mentally exhausted. Weeks with soon pass I Miss Rose became an afterthought.

The weather seem to be getting a lot better since the snow had passed, so I decided to take a evening jog near one of the busiest park around the corner from my house. There was always beautiful women jogging in their spandex pants or boyshorts walking their untrained dogs; maybe I will get lucky. I was almost out of breath so I had to stop for a moment to full my lungs. On the other side of the tree I can hear a couple arguing and it was getting louder and louder. People jogging by almost ran on top of each other looking back as the argument seem to have caught everybody by surprise. I didn’t want to be nosy but I did hear two older ladies saying that’s Pastor Jones and the first lady from 1st cavalry Church. I pretended to be stretching just so I could glance at who this couple was calling each other broke nigga, bitches and hoes; representing whatever church they falsely attended.

Out of nowhere you could hear this Pastor with an open hand smack his wife and the sound echo through the park. I was Frozen as I ran to her rescue.

As she raised her head and stared into my face, I could tell she was hurt not by just the pain that he inflicted with his hands but hurt by knowing that she knew me and I knew Miss Rose.

Searching for King by A. Dakala

As I look back on the one person that got away; I’m often reminded that I may not ever find my King. My life changed the day he left and hasn’t been the same since.

It was my best friend; Mary’s birthday coming up next week and also Black Gay Pride anniversary in Atlanta so the city will have parties on every corner. It was also my boyfriend Curtis King’s best friend engagement dinner that he had been asking me to attend with him for weeks. I admit I did say I would go only because Mary hadn’t made any plans for her birthday as of yet. As the days got closer to the engagement party I knew I had to give him an answer. So I guess I will have to miss out on my best friends party I really wanted to go; being with my boyfriend’s friends will be so boring and they are so corny. All these guys wanted to do is sit around talking about their pledging days in college. Everytime I meet one of them; there were a different chic present thinking she was cute as hell with a need to make a lace front hair appointment as soon as possible look. This one chic had it out for me I believe, everytime I looked up she was rolling her damn eyes at me and in Curtis face every chance she got. Tonight I guess I will confirm my plans with Curtis once I get home.

I was already to confirm when Mary called me; as I was putting the key in the door to enter the house. “Tamika, girl it’s all set, I have rented us a mansion over in Sandy Springs for my birthday bash” she said. “Shit” I said out loud. “Is something wrong girl?” “Mary, I will call you right back let me get in the house and get settled”.

“How are you babe?” Curtis said as I stood by the door taking off my heels. “It’s been a long long day” I said. I tried to avoid any eye contact with Curtis; knowing he was expecting an answer from me. But he was very pushy and methodical. He grabs me by my hands and pulls me into his chest, kissing my neck. Then those words surface, whispering into my ear; baby since it’s hard for you to decide on what you are doing, go ahead and go hang out with your friends. My heart stopped for a moment. “Why you don’t won’t me to go now?”. “I do but I don’t want you to disappoint your friends to hangout with my lame boys”. I couldn’t have said it better. “Ok” I said. I pushed myself out of his arms and pulled out my cellphone. As I looked back at Curtis he had already went upstairs.

“Mary I’m going to your party, Curtis had a change of heart and encourage me to go; girl it’s on and popping now” I said.

Curtis was at the top of the stairs ear hustling; listening and sending out “she fell for it” text messages to his friends.

Curtis had it all planned out, crashing her girlfriend’s party to get down on one knee since most of her friends would be there and asking her to marry him.

The day of Mary’s party created the perfect mood, I sexed Curtis so long last night as if it would be our last supper. He slept like a baby, all I could do is think of the party and the nasty shit that’s about to take place tonight. I made sure he was satisfied by doing some freaky shit I normally don’t do.

Mary called and said the surprise were all set and this was going to be a circus of a great time to remember for life.

Curtis left the house; saying he had something to get together for tonight, I paid his ass no attention.

Once I was at the party, the liquor and food was popping, all the girls were there we all changed into just bra and thongs. Allot of titties and ass walking around. Then the doorbell rang. It was all chocolate muscles and penis and a couple of bad bitches too. Oh my God these guys were packing, all I could think about was my poor old uterus. The girls were beautiful and had big asses. I’m not big curious but tonight I was.

We all picked the guys and girls we wanted and the fun began.

A hour into our orgy the door open and someone stopped the music; we didn’t realize it. There were cameras and confetti, and my mouth dropped as Curtis should there with his friends and mother with a black box in his hand. I couldn’t move sitting on this random guys lap with his penis erected inside me and my hands gripped around the titties of another woman. Mrs. King , Curtis’s mother walked out, I jumped up, with Siemen dripping from my vaginal lips to reach out to Curtis. He turned his back and walked out.

That was the worse day of my life. Fast forward I’m now with a loser, who will not keep a job. The sex is terrible and I’m scared to leave him from the threats of harming me. I feel trapped.

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