TalesOfToney: True Stories of Dating, Love, Polyamory, Sexuality, and Herpes

From Behind The Glitter Curtain: An Erotic Memoir is Available on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and AppleBooks

It had never occurred to me to see myself as a victim. On some level, we have been conditioned to see victims as a clear black and white line. However, in this new era, and growth of the “Me too” movement, and the understanding of spectrum behavior, I realized that I too have been in many me too situations.

I never wanted to be a victim of rape, so, more often than not, when I found myself in a sexual situation where I didn’t want to move forward, I conditioned myself to agree to the act to avoid being violently raped. Sure, I could’ve left. But the fear of being pulled back into a room and forced pushed me to consider engaging as my only option. And, when your options seem extremely bleak, they don’t seem like options at all. 

It recently occurred to me that I was once a victim of coercion. During my recording of the How I F*ck podcast, the host asked me about my first sexual encounter after being diagnosed with herpes. 

I was at the house of a guy I was dating, we were watching a movie at his home, and I hadn’t disclosed my status to him yet. Eventually, the moment arrived when he wanted to have sex, but I didn’t want to have sex. I told him I didn’t want to have sex. But he proceeded to push forward. In the final moments of the tug-of-war, as he was not taking no for an answer, I made a choice not to be a victim of undeniable rape. But in turn, and with years of breaking down rape culture, I became a victim by another name. That name is coercion. 

Although I never saw myself as such, it took years of education to learn that consent is freely given and can be taken back at any time. One sexual encounter does not guarantee you access forever. And the inability to remove consent or not feeling safe enough to withdraw consent means that the act falls on the spectrum of rape culture.

The Spectrum.

It takes a powerful person to acknowledge that all they thought they knew is now questionable and, in many cases, outright wrong.

I grew up at the height of the rap era. Women in bikinis, shaking their asses. Strip clubs and pool parties were the focus of every video, and bottles of Dom sprayed across the weaves of every moist bodied video vixen. It’s hard for men and women growing up in this era to realize that those scenes played a pivotal role in what we now know as rape culture. 

You can even take it back to the 70s and 80s with a cult classic like Revenge of the Nerds. In the movie, the main nerd character donned a mask to trick his crush into having sex with him. Let’s not forget the blacked-out date-rape in Sixteen Candles, or the peeping Toms in Porkys, or the attempted car rape in Back to the Future. 

Sometimes what people bitch about as “cancel culture” is calling out fucked up shit. (I challenge you, go back and look at these movies and tell me you’d want your daughter in those roles). 

I’ve experienced having my ass grabbed when I was 14 at a street festival. I was followed on the six train in NYC on my way home from college. My elementary school friend and I were even followed on our walk to school by a pervert who fondled himself from a (not so far) distance. Even receiving unrequested dick pics in my phone (I swear that book is coming); it’s all problematic. 

But the worst, by far, was when I was exiting my building and rushing to get into a cab when a man approached me. Because I didn’t make time to stop and talk to him (you know, because I was getting into a taxi), he felt entitled and enraged enough to threaten my life. 

“I should shoot you in the back of your head bitch!” Were his words, to be exact. Not knowing if he meant it or not, as the driver pulled off, I slid down in the back seat.

This altercation still sits with me because I had no clue how to respond. I still don’t know how I would react if it were ever to happen again. The nerve of a total stranger to feeling so confident and comfortable to threaten my life simply because I didn’t stop to engage in his advances.

I hate to go down this road, but I’m going to do it anyway. 

As a black woman living in NYC, most of the disrespect I’ve experienced was at the hands of black men. Black men who will call me cute one minute, then turn around and call me a bitch when I ignore them. It’s been black men that have followed me for a block to get my attention and turn disrespectful when I deny their advances. It’s been black men in passing that feel they had ownership to my body, so much that they saw fit to reach their hand out to touch me. WTF!!!

For those men fixing their mouths to say the “That’s not me” bull shit, you’re missing the point. 

It doesn’t have to be you. But it’s happening to your daughters, sisters, cousins, aunts, mothers, friends, etc. It’s happening. Ask the women in your life if they’ve ever been verbally assaulted, followed, threatened, cat-called, coerced, or inappropriately touched. If they tell you yes, I challenge you to listen to them, then consider what measures you can do as a man to change the pattern of negative behavior.

The black man-child that shot at those women dining outside, those women could’ve been your sister. The black man-child-cowards that beat up the black woman at the liquor store in NYC, that woman could’ve been your daughter. 

How do you, how do we change the cycle for the next generation? How do we change the culture of rape, entitlement, and violence towards black women? We can’t continue to march and fight for the same black men that turn around and victimize us in the streets and the homes.

Some great black men do not perpetuate these acts of violence. However, those who do, do it so loudly, boldly, and proudly that they often overshadow the good men.

As a “good” black woman, I don’t want the least desirable of us being the standard for all of us. So, all the “good” black men need to be louder and more visible than the toxic and problematic ones. 

You’re tired of the black male generalizations; me too. So, FIX IT!

I WONDER…

From Behind The Glitter Curtain: An Erotic Memoir is Available on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and AppleBooks

Sometimes I wonder, how different my life would’ve been if certain things had gone differently. I know we often like to think that we have total control over our lives, and some believe that we have no control at all (what is meant to be will be). But a part of me believes that I may have been in a different place than I currently am if certain things hadn’t happened. And the clinker is, there is no guarantee that the hypothetical place would be better, worse or the same. 

I knew at the age of 8 that I liked girls too. I used to flirt with my boy classmate during exercise, but when I would hang out with my childhood friend after school, I felt the same way for her that I felt for him. And she was my first kiss behind the couch in my mother’s kitchen area. At the age of fourteen, I joined a choir, and with them, I found my new home and place to express myself. Half the group was either gay, bisexual, or what we once considered androgynous. There was a girl in the choir that I had a massive crush on, her name was Odessa, and she became my girlfriend for an entire week (at 14, that really meant something). She was my first conscious kiss, but she would be my last for a very long time. 

Shortly after she and I broke up, my sister-in-law got wind of my budding-sexual-curiosities. There was another girl in the choir that I found attractive. Because she was a year or two older and thus more experienced, I wanted to explore my sexuality with her. However, my sister-in-law saw her desire and attraction for me as predatory. To be specific, she thought that the girl was trying to “turn me out” instead of me genuinely liking her. She threatened the girl and told her that I was off-limits. I didn’t know how to express my feelings, and I was too afraid to speak up for myself, so that was the end. Even if I had been confident in my attraction, she (like many adults do) would’ve dismissed my sexual curiosities with, “you’re too young to be gay or bisexual.”

What is the proper age for someone to honestly know their sexuality? As young as eight years old, I knew how I felt; I simply didn’t have the language or courage to express it. So, it would be almost two decades before I would admit to myself what I had denied for so long. With my first threesome, I knew that my desire for women was valid the entire time. I had simply suppressed it. When my SIL and I talk about my coming out, she expresses that she wish I told her a long time ago. She didn’t see her actions as negative because she thought that she was helping me. But when it came to boys, her need to protect me wasn’t as present. This makes me wonder if she hadn’t intervened, how different my journey would’ve been.

I don’t have many regrets in life. I honestly don’t even regret being with the man that passed me herpes. Sure, my life would’ve been easier without the virus; but I don’t regret knowing him. The sex was great, and he didn’t treat me poorly; he just came with a lasting parting gift. 

What if I had explored dating women with the same passion that I dated men. Maybe dating both genders would’ve opened up the door of my sexuality a lot earlier. Perhaps I wouldn’t have sought the perfect male companion all those years. Maybe I wouldn’t have encountered so many male-induced heartbreaks. Maybe I wouldn’t have dated Will, and perhaps I would still be herpes negative. Perhaps I would’ve ended up in a long-term lesbian-presenting relationship and didn’t have to be on birth control for much of my adult life. Maybe my first “I love you” would’ve been with a woman instead of a man. Maybe I could’ve met, fell in love with, and married a bomb ass, sexy ass curvy woman. Maybe. Perhaps. Maybe. The fact remains that I will never know. But, because of various events, I lived most of my existence as heterosexual, never learning how to navigate the complexities of dating other women. So, when I finally came out at 30, people naturally didn’t believe me. 

Last year, I got into a debate with a later-exposed Hotep who was very opinionated on LGBTQIA+ representation. Like many heterosexual and misogynistic individuals, he argued that the increased representation of said individuals is media propaganda to force young (black) boys and men to become feminine. As if these very individuals didn’t exist before the invention of the TV. Like many who think like him, he couldn’t comprehend that, more often than not, people hide who they are for the comfort of others. It was easier for them to go with the lie that the media is brain-washing the minds of young (black) boys to become women or because they see it, they want to try it. You can correct me if I’m wrong. But, no amount of seeing something will make you want to do it if it was never on your mind in the first place. —No amount of seeing men kiss will make you want to one day break up with your girl and kiss a dude. If you never wanted to before, you won’t want to do it now.

Being gay, straight, bi, lesbian, and others is not a choice. Living your truth is a choice. And for years, I did not live my truth. For years I lied to myself every time I made a dating profile, and I only sought heterosexual connections. For years I denied myself the possibility when I turned away from a woman’s flirting eye. If my family had embraced me exploring my sexual orientation identity, my life might have been different.

I say all of this to say despite how you as a parent or adult feel, sometimes your child KNOWS. There is no such thing as too young to be gay or bisexual because feelings and attraction often precede the language to express such desires. If your child comes to you expressing their sexual orientation (or gender identity), listen to what they have to say. Allow them the ability, to be honest with you and go from there. Don’t shame or deny their feelings or identity because it is not what you want for your child. Provide them a safe space to be who they feel they are and allow them to come to a healthy conclusion, not a forced societal one.

YOU CAN HAVE IT ALL

Variety is the spice of life; sure, we could fair just fine if we were all limited to just one essential item to survive with, but we all like having options (just not too many). I wouldn’t walk into a buffet and only get one thing. I look at the buffet, see what my options are, and attack accordingly. I try a little bit of this and a little bit of that; that way, when I go back for seconds, I know what to pile on and what to disregard. Stepping into polyamory, I applied this same idea to love and relationships.  

I love knowing that I have a connection with another human being. I love knowing that someone supports me and I support them; and above all else, I love knowing that I don’t have to sugar-coat my life or belittle myself to fit a mold. I also put the responsibility on my partner to make me happy. Then, I heard Jada Pinkett-Smith (on her show, Red Table Talk) discuss the importance of self-satisfaction and completion. She stressed the importance of being happy in your own life; not requiring outside things and/or people to make you happy. I interpreted this message in a way that made sense and it worked for me; and with that I was able to come into my truth and step into my polyamorous identity.  

I told my family, all in a group at my brother’s apartment, at the time. They didn’t quite understand what I meant (as they were all, like most people, monogamous); so, I had to break it down in simpler terms. After explaining, I don’t know if they fully understood my decision in lifestyle, but they said that they supported me, and that was enough. I currently have three men I’m dating; two men that I met in the beginning of my journey; and one that entered my life in, what seemed to me at the time, the most unlikely place (Hey Baby!- That story’s for another post). Since my journey began there was one other, but we’ve ceased communication. It was nice while it lasted, but as he was not “in the lifestyle”, trying to live a non-monogamous life was difficult for him, so we dialed it back to friends/occasional acquaintances. 

When I started this journey, I didn’t know what would happen; so, it was important to lay down some ground rules.  

Rule 1: Connection had to be more important, than the sex. 

Rule 2: Discuss and Disclose 

I won’t deny; that there have been moments where, going back to a monogamous way of living seemed easier. I’d find myself liking a moment and thinking, how nice it would be to have only him. Then I remember, living this lifestyle means I can honestly and ethically have it all. I can grab drinks and make-out one evening; and the next day I can do it all again, and finish it with mind-blowing sex. Knowing that I don’t have to limit myself has made all the difference. 

I won’t deny the fact that, it does require effort and time to periodically check in and make sure I’m attentive to all my connections, but it’s an effort of passion, rather than obligation. When I was monogamous, I felt obligated to call, text, and make time. Now, I do all of that, because I truly want to.  

For people that live monogamous lifestyles, they don’t understand my choice. It’s one thing to ‘get it’ it’s another thing to understand it fully. Many people, family and friends included, just think my decision to live this lifestyle is temporary. They think that my decision is parallel to that of someone who’s dating around or doing this until I find the one. When I speak of my primary, whom checks all of my boxes, they don’t understand why I keep the other men around. I have to re-iterate to them that the connections I have with my partners are stronger than that, and not easily dismissed.  

When the topic of marriage comes up, they wonder there as well. Being fully transparent with my partners, they all know that other men exist, in a perfect world, they may become acquaintances. If one desires to legally solidify our union, it would be understood that the other men would still be in my life in the same capacity.  

When the topic of children comes up, it’s essentially the same situation. For the next 2-3 years the baby making factory is closed, as I am on birth control. I’ve always known that weather or not, I’m asked to be a wife, being a mother was always a title that I desired. Of course, the concern arises; Whom would be the father? How would you choose? How would you raise them? Wouldn’t they get confused? I often counter; Many positive male role models is better than one. The father would be the father, just like a monogamous relationship. My other partners would be a figure in my child’s life in the capacity of a family friend or uncle; and when my child is older, I would sit him or her down and explain our lifestyle to them. 

Sure, it sounds crazy and complicated; but isn’t an honest, loving, and transparent relationships with my partners, and hypothetical-future children better than a broken home? I’d much rather see my partners getting along, my child surrounded by lots of love, and a few extra people. The saying, it takes a village to raise a child, should not be ignored in this lifestyle.  

When all is said and done, when the times are right; I will address each situation and make the best decision for myself and my family, along with my partner(s). 

The Ex Files_Part 4: Tired of Tired

So, let’s do a recap.  

October-November: Casually Dating 

November-January: We’re sleeping together. No official title. No gift for Christmas and no time spent together for the holidays. 

February (Valentine’s Day): First official argument. I requested a date, that he agreed to, yet never fulfilled. I got him a card.  

February-March: He proposes a mini vacation that he never follows through on. 

April-May: Still no title. We’re seeing each other about once a week. Actual romantic dates are not frequently happening. Most dates are basic movies and/or cheap dinners or takeout.  

June (My Birthday Month): I receive no present. 

July (My family vacation to Vegas): He said he would attend but he did not.  

August: I was ready to put my foot down and/or call it quits. He then called me his girlfriend and I fell in stupid all over again. He offered to buy me tickets to the Motown play. 

September-October: The rocky ground becomes flaming coals as I become frustrated with yet another promise that is never fulfilled (Six Flags Fright Fest).  

So here we are, in November. I had grown tired of his bullshit. However, for reasons (which I will address in a totally different post to come later) I couldn’t completely cut the cord and walk away.  

We had stopped speaking for a few days after he let me down with the Six Flags fiasco. I played the dumb game most of us play: he’d text me and I would wait hours to text him back etc. Then, one afternoon he gave me a call. Claiming how he missed me and wanted to see me. At this point, I had grown tired of leaving my job, travelling on the train for over an hour just to go to his house and do nothing but watch tv and get crappy takeout. If I wanted to watch tv I could do that at my own damn house. I came to the realization that he was not a pick up on signals type of guy. I would have to make it crystal clear for him. So, I asked him “Where are we going to go?” His response; “I have to see how I feel, I might be tired.” To which I responded: “That’s fine. Hit me up when you’re not tired. Because I am sick and tired of you being tired whenever I come by. Ok.” I then hung up the phone.  

He was furious with me; but I gave ZERO FUCKS. I was done caring about his feelings and him being tired- blah fucking blah! He immediately called me back; he was shocked that I hung up on him and that I would say that. He complained that I was the busy one and that I didn’t make time for him. Which was bull shit! For months I had been asking for us to spend a weekend together and it never happened. He complained that my schedule was too complicated for him and that it was too much work for him to remember my schedule. To which I responded- all he had to do was ask me my availability. He called it “making an appointment” I called it “communication”.  

I did a little digging during the course of our relationship. I found out that in his previous relationships his partners either, didn’t work or had very limited social lives and he had also taken care of them. They lived with him, didn’t work, and he handled all the bills. He was used to dating women that would always be available because they did nothing else. He was used to doing what he wanted when he wanted because he was the one that always paid. Think about it; if you’re a “kept woman” and you want to go on a vacation but rely on your man to pay for it; you have to convince him and/or wait for him to want to go on said vacation. This was his dating life for over a decade, prior to meeting me. He was not used to dating a girl that worked, had a social life, and had plans. He was used to doing what he wanted, when he wanted, and it never being an issue. Sadly- that was not they dynamics of my life; they never were and never will be. My independence matters to me, my social life matters to me, my family, my friends, my fitness all matter to me; and when I’m in relationship, my partner matters to me. To me, I thought I was doing a great job at balancing it all; to him, however, I was not.  

Needless to say, nothing got resolved on that phone call; it became very tit for tat. Eventually I got tired of to a brick wall so, I said goodnight and ended the conversation. 

We didn’t see each other for another 2 weeks. When he finally called and asked to take me out, we set a date for a weekend, we went to Juniper in Brooklyn and went to the movies after. Dinner and the movie were nice gestures, but it was like putting whip cream and a cherry on shit and calling it chocolate ice cream. 

When we got back to his place, we tried to talk things out. I told him that I was not happy in the relationship. He couldn’t understand what I was unhappy about. He said he was happy with me so why was I not happy with him; as if it was a barter system (happy for happy). For starters, I never met any of his family and/or friends; even though I had invited him on many occasions to meet mine; he simply never showed up. I brought up the fact that over and over he made promises and never kept them. To which his response was “well I never promised.” He didn’t comprehend that; whether or not you use the word promise when you agreed and you didn’t follow through, it still hurts. I told him that his not caring about how I felt hurt and he claimed I chose to be upset and that I should just learn to let things go. In essence, all the things I was complaining about didn’t matter to him.  

He didn’t care about meeting my family or friends; because to him it wasn’t a big deal. He didn’t care about dates- he was just happy to be with me. He didn’t care about broken plans because to him we would always have time. Lastly, he felt that I held on to things and that I should, like him, just let them go. I had to explain to him he and I were not the same person. A person has to be willing to compromise with their partner if the relationship is to be successful. I had compromised a hell of a lot; I changed my routine and I became a home-body, I let movies and take-out replace actual dates because my guy was a casual guy, I started watching sports because he liked sports and, I made less plans to try and be available for him more. I was done compromising. I wanted dates and romance, but I also wanted honored plans, and experiences together. I told him, I’m the type of girl that when I am wronged you have to acknowledge the wrong and fix it; I do not just let shit go. If you put a crack in a vase you have to fix it, if not the crack will get worse and eventually the vase will break. I told him if he wanted this relationship to work there would have to be changes made on his part. I asked him, just to try things my way- if it didn’t work then we would cut our losses but at least give it a try. The way I saw it was: We did things your way and it doesn’t work, now let’s try it my way.  

Him trying things my way lasted for about 2 weeks. 

(Part 4 Coming Very Soon)