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Monday, February 06, 2006

Romance - It ain't for everybody

I already told you about my adventure with a younger man, right? Well, I was talking about it all with a friend after I did that post. I complained to her about Mr. Nintendo (aka: the "game man"), and she said she could top my story with one of her own. Where my man (not) was into games, hers was the opposite. Waaaaaaaay opposite.

My friend (let's call her "Rose") had a man in her life who was around her age (so no generation gap excuses) who not only wasn't into games of the romantic-playful-freaky kind, but was also kind of a bedroom cheapskate. Rose said his idea of being romantic was waking her up before sex. Now, Rose is a Danielle Steele-reading kind of woman. She lives for those "special moments" in a relationship. If a man cleaned out her bank account, charged up her credit cards & wiped Cheeto stains on her sheets before he dumped her, all he'd have to do to be forgiven is surprise her with a day-old rose from the supermarket.
(Maybe it's a good thing I'm not using her real name. I can almost hear some men out there ready to Google for her location!)
Anyway, for whatever reason, Rose really liked this romance-impaired loser. I think it was his teeth that turned her on (the man had some beautiful teeth, y'all). At any rate, Rose decided that she must be the problem & she needed to take more initiative in putting a little romance into this relationship. She went out & bought some, uh, goodies & then invited him over for a special evening. They had a nice dinner that she made (I'm talking stuff right out of a Martha Stewart cookbook, not that throw-it-together-right-out-of-the-box crap.) After dinner, she ran him a bath - with potions and oils and the Scent Stories going on and everything. Once she'd bathed his rusty butt, she took him to the bedroom and put on some mood music (meaning Marvin Gaye & Patti LaBelle - not somebody singing about popping and coochies). While she had him relaxing on her clean& perfumed sheets, she got out the little tray of "goodies": silk scarves & some strawberries, whipped cream, champagne & melted chocolate... You're getting the picture, right? Her plan - straight out of an advice mag - was that they would take turns blindfolding each other & having a creative taste test. I am not this creative or energetic when it comes to romance. I mean, it shouldn't take all this. 
(But I did tell you that Rose is a romantic? Girl been reading all them Cosmo articles & such...)
So, what happens? Do Rose & her man have a nice evening, deepening their relationship & becoming closer? Not even close.

First of all, by the time Rose got everything ready, Mr. Love Machine had fallen asleep & Rose had to wipe drool off his mouth. Next, he saw the edibles & started scarfing down the strawberries, talking about "that fancy dinner of yours wouldn't feed a two-year old." When Rose explained that she'd had something a little more sensual planned for the goodies, his eyes bugged. He said, "We gone waste good food on that? Girl, I ain't licking no chocolate off ya cha-chas when I can use it on some of that ice cream you hiding from yourself in the back of the freezer."

Rose - a trouper, yes she is - tried to tantalize him back into the romantic moment by saying how they could tie each other up if he wanted. Wrong move. Mister almost hurt himself getting out of bed & finding his clothes. "Aw, hell naw," he told her. "A woman tie you up, she liable to bust you with some hot grits or trim your Yankee. Just ask Al Green."

Rose said he left so fast he almost didn't have time to grab the rest of the strawberries.

Romance. It ain't for everybody.

**Disclaimer: Not only have some of the names been changed, but so have some of the facts. It wouldn't be as funny a story without a little embellishment!**

My word for the day is a little bit weak ("Bad days are like rainy ones - necessary every now & then"), so I'll toss in a little list of some songs I'm listening to for the day:

* "In The Deep" (Bird York)
** "Woman 2 Woman" (Jaguar Wright)
*** "Even If" (Amel Larrieux)