Monthly Archives: April 2019


For the first time, in a long time, I can finally say that; I am truly happy. I have family and friends that I love, I have a job that I like, and I’ve learned to appreciate and look at life- glass half full. I’ve learned to not stress over the things I can’t control and to always realize, no matter how bad things may get, they could always get worse.  

This past summer, I was robbed. No- I wasn’t knocked upside my head. I was a victim of opportunity because the perpetrator got to my heart. Yes- I was scammed. Timing had everything to do with how things happened; so, allow me to fill you in on the details.  

It was after my vacation in Florida. I was on a Disney-Sugar high and when I returned; I was feeling great. The following week, I experienced the worst racially-fueled disrespect I had ever received (What Lies Beneath) 

The week after that, I started speaking to Scammer. He seemed like a breath of fresh air to all the other ass-hats I had encounter over the past 3 years. He called me every morning, lunch, night, we spoke for hours and I just knew that this was going to work. I was on cloud nine! Could it be that my luck was finally changing? Would I, finally, be done with all the bullshits? Boy I hoped so.  

We agreed to meet a week later on Saturday, after he finished work. I had purchased tickets to the, On The Run 2 Tour, when I returned from Disney. I had tickets for the Friday night show which was a blessing since Thursday night’s show was delayed hours. There was a forecast of rain for Friday night’s show, but, to my excitement the weather what totally clear. The show was fantastic and I had a blast. All in all, this month seemed to be looking up. Disney, The Carters, and the following day I was going to finally meet the man that had virtually pulled at my heart strings. My luck was changing- Finally. 

Now, before you proceed- you have to understand that, I am in all actuality, very smart. However, the details that are to follow would prove just how dumb one can be, when it comes to matters of the heart.  

I was to meet him, at his job. His bank was running a promotion at the time (You open an account with X much money and we’ll give you this much as a voucher). My account was a bit short of the desired amount so he was going to add to the total. He’d get his new account bonus, I’d get my voucher, and we’d be out- No harm no foul. When I got uptown, he was busy and couldn’t step out, so he sent his co-worker to meet me. She came out, uniform on, so it didn’t cause for alarm. She was supposed to go in and process the transaction and then I would enter as if the account was whole and everything was going to be fine. Until it wasn’t. I was on the phone with him, while he was “processing the transaction”. As I’m on the phone with him, he asks me where do I want to go to eat, and it wasn’t until the mentioned a plethora of hood-spots that I started to realize I had made a huge mistake. Isn’t that crazy- that food made my alarms go off.  I checked my account via my phone app and I saw no bad activity, then once I refreshed what was once $2880 was now $1.86. “You robbed me” were the only words that I could muster. I stormed into the bank, explained that I was robbed, called my bank; but in the end it was too late.  

I walked home with blood-shot, swollen eyes and an empty heart. I didn’t want them to know how dumb I had been; so, I told my family I was stood up. The next morning, I woke up hoping it was a dream, but it wasn’t. It had happened and there was nothing I could do. I had allowed my infatuation with the possibility of love to cloud my judgement. During that time, I pushed away all logic and reason; because I wanted to believe that he was the real deal. And all I found out was that he was a really-really good scammer. If I had been robbed the conventional way, it would’ve hurt less. But because he played with my mind and heart, it was a billion times worse. I guess you’re probably wondering- Where is the silver lining? And here it is.  

Like I stated earlier, I have a way of looking at things glass half-full or; that they could always be worse. I once worked in a bank as a teller. A customer came in with a fraudulent check and I, unfortunately, cashed it; for that I was fired. Although I was sad that I was fired, I realized I had no “real” responsibilities. I didn’t pay rent, I had no kids, and unemployment could easily cover the bills I did have. So, even though I was pissed, I was in a much better place than any of the other employees it could’ve happened to. There was another time; I worked in a restaurant, and I was fired. The silver lining there was being fired pushed to me put my degree to use. I would’ve grown comfortable at that job, had they not fired me. So, it was, yet another, blessing in disguise.  

I connected with this person via Plenty of Fish. This was also around the time that guy was arrested for raping and murdering women he met online; from you guessed it… Plenty of Fish. Who knows what might have happened if he was a murder/rapist, or human-trafficker, instead of a scammer? So-what! I was robbed; but, I’m alive! I know there are many women that go on dates and are never seen again- I count myself lucky. Consider it happened later in life; if I lived alone, had a car, kids? What if it was $30K instead of $3K? I can bounce back from $3K, but $30K – not so much.  

The situation I went through caused me to be wiser the next time someone seemed too good to be true. When I joined FetLife (a site for like-minded kinky people and the occasion pay for play exchange) I was approached my hundreds of men claiming to be “sugar daddies” – this time, I knew better, because of what I experienced. Eventually, after almost 8 months, I did get my money back, so I’m happy about that. But let it my experience be a lesson; when someone seems too good to be true, they probably are..


If you can’t find the joy in exercise, you’re doing it all wrong!

I don’t always love working out, but I love the way I look and the feelings I continue to encounter during my fitness journey. From my toes to the tip of my head; my entire body would be engaged during my workouts. Yet, once I really started paying attention to what was going on, instead of going through the motions… Whew! I began to understand why people liked fitness so much. Isolating certain muscle groups, controlling the breathing, and fighting to finish that one last rep gives me a high that should only happen, behind closed doors- sometimes. This may explain why I liked the sex party so much. 

Anybody that knows me, knows that I take a variety of workouts: hot yoga, barre, spin, HIIT, and ZUMBA just to name a few. When my nipples start to percolate during the warm up to the dramatic rise and fall of my breasts at the end of class because I’m exhausted; it’s a love-hate relationship that I don’t ever want to end. I love the way my skin starts to glisten as the sweat forms and the arousing, cooling feeling that mixes with the moisture when the air kicks in. With the subtle jump of my breasts during an overhead press to the clenching of my kegel muscles during a hover-plank; there is something about holding on just a few more seconds that dangerously feels like edging.  

I love hot yoga. I love the community, the energy in the room, the warmth, and the limited clothing. For starters, on top I only wear a bra and I never wear underwear when I work out; it’s always pussy to pants for me. I started going workout-commando when I got tired of always pulling them out of my crotch. You try pulling fabric you of your vagina in a down-dog-split and tell me how you feel. But, back to why I love yoga- I love the controlled movement to breath during the poses, the feeling of sweat rolling down my skin, and pushing the envelope on my strength, and flexibility. Hell no! My legs will not go behind my head during the throws of passion. But I can roll back into a decent plough position with ease. I just can’t stay there too long since my breasts cut off my oxygen, and that’s not how I want to go. 

Barre is another sexercise love of mine. If you’ve never taken a barre class, I would describe it as a hybrid of Pilates, yoga, and light weights in high reps. During the arms portion of class, is where I begin to regret my decision to sign up in the first place. Need I remind you it’s 60 minute class, and arms are within the first 20 minutes. I hate this part of the class because I always feel like I’m going to throw up my heart. But, right as the instructor is counting down, the muscle fatigue is at its peak, and my breathing becomes jagged; a tingle erupts in my chest. That wave of release after that last pulse sends a shiver down my spine. It is the same release I feel when my neck is released during orgasm. When we move to the glute portion, again I tell myself I’m never doing this, ever again. Remember the old-school Jane Fonda videos (you know the ones where the women squeezed and released their thighs)? Now, take that image and throw it the fuck out the window. Glute work in barre class does not look like that. No one is in bright colored spandex and smiling. It is utter torture: standing leg raises, circles, hydrants, side leg lifts, clam shells, and then rotations. And then you switch sides; because nobody wants a lopsided ass! By the first minute in, I’m punching my own ass to distribute the pain. You know the feeling, when you have a scab, but when you pressed down on it you got a mixture of pain and pleasure; that’s the feeling of glute work in a barre class. The only difference is, I paid for this torture.  

Less torturous, yet just as exhilarating, is spin (aka cycling). More specifically, indoor stadium style cycling; where the music is loud, and always Beyoncé, and the lighting makes you feel like you’re in a club. The instructor often starts with a round of tap backs. Tap backs are when you lift up from the seat of your bike and tap your juicy ass down to the beat. often fantasize bringing my partner to class; and as they’re riding behind me, they’re staring at my ass as it bounces on and off of the seat. Between the tap backs, the jumps, the speed work, and weight portion; there are so many opportunities for sexcitement. Most of the time, I like to face the mirror and watch my cleavage bounce up and down. While, other times I like to have a side bike; that way I can watch the juicy-ness of my ass glide back and forward on the bike. This is what my fabulous instructor calls, twerking, just on a bike. When we pick up the resistance to get over the hill, I pull together all the lower muscles of my body to ride the dick (sorry!) I mean, I ride up the hill with all the leg strength I can muster. 

By the time the class is done, I am exhausted. I’m gasping for air, my entire body is covered in sweat, and my ass is sore from all the ass dropping. (Practice for later) 

However, my longest love is Zumba. My mom once dragged me to class with her and with much resistance I finally gave in- I’ve been hooked ever since. It’s more than just the sweat and the feeling of exhaustion, the music, and the community. It’s the feeling I get when I look at my body in the mirror, as I dance to the beat. I know every person thinks they look good when they dance; but we all know this is a lie. Some people have absolutely no rhythm; while I have an abundance. In Zumba, is where I make love to myself in the mirror; these breasts, waist, hips, thighs, booty; and don’t let her put a salsa song on, it’s workout wood in the making. 

Like I said in the first line: I don’t always love working out. But, as you can find something to enjoy about everything in life, I have found the motivation to keep going back and pushing my limits. So, when someone says “they don’t like working out” I can’t help but think they’re doing it all wrong..


My 2018 ended on an extremely low note: I had not had sex since August, I was still unsuccessful at online dating, and I felt like I was reaching for blog content. Growing tired of the nonsense, on January 1st, at the stroke of midnight I deleted all my dating apps and I figured I’d take time to just be alone and reevaluate the direction of my blog. 

In January; after a year of carefully writing around the topic, I wrote my first story about my life and dating while having herpes. 

In February; I took another step down the sexually free runway; and I attended my first sex party. I re-downloaded Tinder and Hing, and I explored FetLife (this should be interesting!). This time, however, I decided to have a different approach. What if I stopped searching for a relationship and just enjoyed the art of dating? Sure- many times I’ve said “I’m not looking for anything and I’m just having fun”. Then, like clockwork, on date three, I would begin to wonder: What are we? Where is this going? Big wedding or small wedding? How many kids will we have? Apartment or house?  

This time around, I told myself to STOP! I told myself to not only smell the flowers New York Botanical Garden had to offer, but to enjoy the process of planting them too. The lilies, the tulips, the roses, the hydrangeas, the azaleas, and countless others. I told myself to find happiness in the sowing of the dirt, planting the seeds, the watering, and the sunlight. When a flower dies, that does not make its life lived any less significant. The death of the flower does not erase the joy you found in smelling and viewing it. Instead of waiting for the richest hue right before the decay. I made the decision to learn to enjoy the moments that were happening all around me, from the very beginning to the very end. I was excited to start this new journey. But first… I had to tell my mom.  

So, in March I told my mother that, not only, was I bisexual; but that I was also polyamorous, and non-monogamous. To which she rolled her eyes, gave me a lecture about sex and diseases. To which, I had to remind her that, I actually acquired herpes when I was in a relationship; so, her point was moot. 

For years I was determined to find the one that would deliver me from the endless hurdles of first dates and dry conversations. So, what’s your favorite color? What’s your favorite food? Blah blah! I hated talking to someone, and thinking it was going somewhere, all to find out that they were a total fuck-boy; but I kept on going. I believed that I would swipe right on the perfect guy, we would like each other, meet, fall in love, and live happily ever after. Fear of dating with herpes kept me on this self-inflicted-toxic-path for almost 4 years. I gave into the idea that people with herpes weren’t allowed date casually. If a guy hit on me at a party. I would flirt a little but eventually I would fade away. I couldn’t go around spreading my toxic vagina. I couldn’t have a casual one-night-stand. I had to dive all in and hope for the best. I didn’t have the right to be selective; because, people with herpes can’t be choosey. I had better be happy with whatever I could get! So, what! if he has no teeth, bad acne, not job, and a little wiener. He accepted your virus and now you’re together for life. 

Then I had an epiphany. I am not now, nor have I ever been toxic. I am human and I deserve to be happy. As long as I was honest and upfront about my status, I could do whatever the fuck I wanted. That not only meant starting a situation-ship, that also meant ending one as well. I stayed in many relationships long past their expiration date. If he accepted my herpes, I had to accept whatever shit he came with as well; I had to make it work, because no one else would want me. I had to learn that I deserved the same happiness that everyone else had. I deserve romance, great conversation, and to have fantastic sex whenever, however, and with however many partners my vagina and mouth could handle. As long as I told them up front, I was doing my part. So, I decided to try something different. 

Instead of writing a long drawn out profile, I kept it important to the fundamentals of what I was/am looking for, and I put it all on front street: polyamorous, non-monogamous, bisexual, and herpes positive.  

Non-monogamy, because I am not in a space of solo-commitment.  Polyamorous, because I actually require an emotional connection that precedes the desire to engage sexually (energies over sex). Bisexual, because I enjoy being with women as well; and of course, herpes positive because I’d rather not waste your time if it’s a non-negotiable for someone.  

Within a week, I had a Tinder date; we’ve been seeing each other for just over a month. The following week I met a man from Hinge, and we too have gone on a couple of dates. I’m finally in a place where I am enjoying the journey of dating with no clue on where the hell I’m going to end up. I’m sowing the dirt, I’m planting the seeds, and I’m watering the soil. I’m enjoying the butterflies, the flirting, the conversations, the kissing, and some great sex. I am rooted in my happiness at the moment and hope you’ll continue with me on this journey.