I Am Not That Kind Of Woman

Memoirs of Black Women

I’m not the kind of woman you find to warm your bed
Entertain you when you’re bored
Stand in as a last resort
Or step in as your back up plan
I’m the woman you can only dare to approach
Once you’ve left your childish ways behind
And understood what it means to love another being other than yourself
You don’t win women like me
You earn the right to be in our lives

I knew Josh from the coffee shop. I would often see him appear just in time to do his 7am coffee run but one day he decided to approach me and we spoke for the first time. When I would quietly observe him from afar each morning, it was hard to miss his suave disposition, confident walk and intriguing dress sense but up close, you couldn’t help but appreciate his undeniable charm too. I wasn’t looking for love at the time but a part of me wondered if this beautiful chocolate-covered, caramel dripping delight might just be God’s gift to me after so many past disappointments?

It didn’t take long before we went from being just acquaintances to casual dating. Josh put his best foot forward every time - he opened the car door for me, pulled out my chair at restaurants, attentively listened to every word I had to say and returned my calls and text messages. Within a month we were practically behaving like a couple but in hindsight, besides spending almost every night together and being intimate in more ways than one, our relationship status was never truly made clear.

Things started to change after 3 months. Date nights started to reduce in frequency. My calls were increasingly going unanswered with little to no explanation as to why. Text messages barely attracted a response and even if I was lucky enough to see him within a fortnight, he was noticeably distracted and vaguely interested in making conversation. So why did I tolerate this for as long as I did? It was the sex! The sex made me ignore my gut instincts and suppress my doubts. This man could make my body respond in ways that made my past sex life feel like amateurish play. I now realise that with past lovers I simply went through the motion because Josh was able to unlock the acrobat and contortionist in this melanin-rich chocolate drop of a body. Every time he struck a chord, I would automatically match it with tuneful moans and groans. For the first time, I realised that a woman could feign for a man’s touch just as desperately as an addict craves hardcore drugs...................