Beep Me “69” or Call Me On My Cell Phone…

i couldn’t sleep.

it didn’t help that i read the 40+ comments to that last entry as they came in.
the whole night i thought about the rapper.
i thought about things he told me and things he spoke about.
i thought his life, his decisions, and his outcome.
as big as his list is,
his life isn’t where he needs it to be.
he is still trying to be taking seriously as a rapper.
he never had a serious job in his life.
how he makes money is a mystery.
he got frustrated over something trivial.
not to mention, he came in and dropped his coat on the floor.
no apartment or car.
i felt like i was in high school again.
after school.
he was the “pre baller wolf that came over to get tutored“.
i was the “geek who sat in the front of the class“.
he seems to just be going through life without a solid plan.
he is not a “man”.
my “man”.
he has actually dated a couple foxes in the past.
hell, i watched him fuck one’s brains out raw like it was a top rated myvidster flick.

“oh daddy! oh shit nigga! i love this dick!”
“________________” – no reply from him.

his pipe did the replying and judging from how he fucked him,
it loved him….


(lowkey: his ex is FINE as hell.
caramel, nice body, and looks like something being reblogged on tumblr.
hell, he could be on tumblr….)

but, i had to wonder what “dated” meant to him exactly?
was it someone he was having consistent sex with?
someone with a fat ass that was “his“?
did they even have a conversation?
one thing he told me yesterday:

“jamari, i like you because you listen to me.”

is this new to him?
in a world where sex is easy,
people cum and go,
and you are only as good as your last fuck i started to wonder…

Are we just a “number“?

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