My mother always told me that I was ‘just evil’.
She called it the “Devil in me”, the calendar calls it PMS, the therapist calls it Bi-Polar disorder and the observant eye witness may say that my Daddy simply spoiled the shit out of me to the chagrin of society at large.
Either way, I’ve always been the proud owner of a temper so quick that it is only matched in ferocity by the depth of my cruelty.
Don’t get on my bad side, No…and while you’re at it, don’t get on my side-side, which means be mindful of me at all times because you may just catch a bad one because you happen to be in my line of fire.
My mood disorder causes me to be giddy, hysterical, or in a blind rage with the blink of an eye. The unfortunate person that crosses my path may get a response from me that has nothing to do with my actual feelings. This is a fact of life.
I’m a bitch on wheels.
I can’t control it, I can try to diffuse it, I often don’t realize I’m doing it, but sometimes I can feel it coming.
Sometimes…..I choose to allow myself to be washed away with the tide, but like the effort it takes to hold off on an orgasm, some times I say, “Fuck it”, and just go with the flow.
I used to feel guilty so imagine my surprise to find out there were guys who purposely trigger my temper because they enjoyed when I would lash out at them.
Keep fucking with me and see what I do next.
I warned violators and carry through just retribution.
I am a sadist, among many other wonderful things that I can now identify with official terms and Wikipedia definitions, but throughout life I have simply been told that I have a superiority complex.
This is not a bad thing, per say, because in order for one to demand satisfaction, one must first believe themselves worthy of being satisfied.
I”m a mean girl (sometimes).
I’m a bitch…….that’s with a Capital B!
I don’t believe a person holding themselves in high esteem is a bad thing, though I’ve been told that I can come off as obnoxious but this information came from a man who is of the highest order of Alpha male. Of course, HE would find my behavior offensive, as it clashes with his own natural dominating nature. I believe him to be a fan of woman with quiet subtlety.
I’m not that woman, obviously.
I’ m strong willed.
I’m loud and I’ve always been described as wild and untamed.
Fuck your rules, I don’t bend to them just because they’re there, often times I feel rules were never made for me.
Though I may choose to bend, please understand that you can’t make me, the most you can hope to do is to persuade me to satisfy your request.
The choice is my own and I won’t let you forget it. But if you’re willing and capable of working to earn my affection, you’ll have something not easily obtained by anyone.
Don’t get it fucked up…..there is power to found in being able to cause another person to bend to your will but I didn’t always understand it, though I have always been aware of it.
Utilizing psychological games to satisfy the natural needs and desires of both participants is something entirely different than those who allow abuse of themselves or those whom abuse others simply because they’re fucked up individuals and want to hurt other people to work out repressed pain.
Co-dependent, abusive relationships in Black culture may often be mistaken for D/s relationships, but they’re not.
I learned the mental capacity to break down a human being from Black Mother’s whispers of resentment of all the things she deemed to be weak in Black men (she had quite an extensive list), and I held an opposing view of my Black father.
Though married to a Black man, my mother resented most people in general, she made her feelings of her lack of respect and faith in the expectation of Black men clear to me if to no one else.
Black men ain’t shit; they’re cheaters; they’re lazy….there was a mental list of other derogatory comments that I’ve since internalized, analyzed and re-evaluated and tried to forget.
Nevertheless,I found that I will naturally admonish a man if I perceive him to be ‘weak’. I will treat him as a subordinate, and not worthy of my pussy, or my love, my trust, my affection and definitely not worth the treasure of MY submission in bed or in life.
I can’t take you seriously because you don’t have what it takes to please me.
You’re just not worthy.
I learned to test a man and measure him against my own list of attributes in order to determine if he’s AT LEAST worthy of my presence. At best, you can hope to be in my good graces.
How many men have felt the pleasure of knowing I desired THEIR method of foot rub….above all others….! As I show my affection by shoved my foot in his face as I settle in to watch a movie and happily chat.
I may allow you to sleep at the foot of my bed, or bring me a drink, maybe.
Any man unwilling or unable to address my wants and needs gives me no incentive to allow him to pursue me further. See the part where I said ‘he will not be allowed to pursue me’; some people aren’t worth your while. It’s a fact of life.
She warned me not to find myself the victim of having chosen a ‘sorry ass Black man’, unfortunately, many Black male suitors (then as they do now) fall terribly short and so I view them as beneath me and treat them as such.
Religion teaches people that we are all equal, society and my observation in life proves to me that this is fallacy.
My father was my super-hero, and I was Daddy’s little girl. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for me, I don’t know about my Mother, but there was nothing in the world he wouldn’t do FOR ME.
In my experience, when a man loves, there’s nothing he won’t do to show that love and devotion. He will prove it in his actions and in his words to the woman that he holds dear. A man’s willingness to show his devotion has nothing to do with his being weak.
On the contrary, a man who is unable to show vulnerability to the woman he loves is weak, in my eyes. He doesn’t know the feeling of accomplishment and pride to be found in submitting to the care and emotional needs of his woman.
My childhood was filled with the occasion of receiving boxes of shiny gold jewelry, mink coats and our ‘dates’ where he and I would sneak off to have ice cream sundaes without my mother pestering either of us.
Walking into a bedroom to be met with a vase full of roses (red ones, my favorite) was a routine experience upon the arrival of my always straight-A report card.
An accomplished cook, my father prepared meals for my mother and I that consisted of expensive and delicious delicacies. It was a treat, I was aware of that, and I was always gracious and thankful of his consideration.
Reciprocity is at the heart of all expressions of love and affection, regardless of the context of the relationship.
It was no secret, my Father let it be known that he would just as quickly kill you as he would blink if you so much as looked at me the wrong way.
From him I learned that a man’s role is to provide and to protect ‘his’, be it his family, his children or his kin.
My Black father displayed nothing but strength, leadership and confidence to the outside world each and every day of my life, and the only person who I knew of who had the power to bend his will, EVER, was me.
He worked everyday, my mother was a home maker, food was always on the table, heat was always in the home.
These things are nothing special to me; I do not take them for granted.
I may give off an air of arrogance and privilege, but on the contrary, I am willing to reward pleasing behavior with gratitude but this is WHAT A MAN DOES in my eyes. Serving my basic needs is the least of what is expected of any man in my world, so this is just the tip of the ice burg.
I have a natural tendency to admire chivalry, the world of Queens, and Kings and devotion made perfect sense in my mind then as it does now.
What would you do for a Klondike bar?
What would you do to get the one thing that you want the most…I’ll test you.
What are you willing to do to please me, I will find out, and it may or may not be enough. If I gave you clear instructions, could you follow them?
Men are not all created equal, and some men have no respect for a woman who will treat each suitor the same without giving him incentive to work for her affection.
EARN HER AFFECTION. PUT A PRICE ON YOURSELF. Go ahead, give it a try.
I understand there are many women who are so starved for a mate that they will accept any form of male attention and attempt to be content with it.
That’s never been me, because for whatever reason, I always felt like I can get several more of whatever it is that you’re selling if you choose to make the mistake of not giving me what I want, the way I want it, when I want it and how I want it.
I will dismiss you because I have no fear in finding another lover, more attention, or another you.
As a matter of fact, I believe I developed the propensity for male domination because male attention came to me so easily that it became mundane and boring. I couldn’t help but to be flippant with some men.
But they loved it and came back for more. Some were cut loose because they had no chance of EVER getting next to me, some begged to come back and continue the honor of at least, being in the circle of those chosen to compete for my attention.
The use of competition and tasks are tools that I’ve developed naturally. Boredom and curiosity contributed to my early use of challenges to test these men in order to determine who is the best among my many suitors.
I think so many Black women under estimate the value of holding themselves in high regard.
Regardless of what you think, I THINK I am ‘too good’ for a lot of things and I treat myself as such, and while observing this some men realized that it took much work to obtain any form of affection from me other than the occasional polite response.
And even THAT wasn’t guaranteed.
I may still be outright rude and belligerent (and rewarded for it!).
I get a kick out of abusing the men who allow me to do it AND THEY GLADLY COME BACK FOR MORE.
I adore the men who have devoted themselves to me, through their display of affection I’ve been able to occasionally exist in a world that is not afraid to put a women on a pedestal and treats her accordingly.
Some my find fault with this, but I don’t. If anything I find the power, beauty and truth of male submission to be a place of security, friendship, and mutual respect in my personal life. I love and value submissive men, I don’t look down my nose at them, nor should you. The need to submit to the power of a woman is as natural to some people as is the need to held and be held. It’s a form of affection, and for some of us it comes naturally.
How did all of this lead to my life of trampling, foot worship, male domination, cuckolding and sex work……?
To Be Continued