Commitment Phobic

Hi. My name is Chantay. I love love, soft kisses, giggling, daydreaming, making love, and oh yeah, I fear making commitments. I wasn’t always this way. There have been a few Bigs (Sex and the City) in my life that I would have gladly jumped at the opportunity to wed. Therein lays my problem. I love a challenge, want the unobtainable, pursue the impossible, and hope for beautiful rainbows, unicorns, and colorful butterflies, and I protect my sense of freedom at all costs. “I say who! I say when! I say who!” – Vivian from Pretty Woman

I don’t naturally gravitate to men or things that come easily to me. I prefer to seduce and be seduced. I want my mind and curiosity fondled and fucked and eventually the same for my body. The Bigs in my life were quite adept at keeping me intrigued by matching and even surpassing me in my unscripted manner of giving a little and retreating a little, then back to giving. Our relationships were never labeled. We talked, laughed, had amazing sex, shared secrets and dinners, offered companionship, and sincerely cared for each other, but we were never exclusive even if the topics of marriage and babies came up. We had fun. If something better came along we were all free to go and pursue whatever tickled our fancies. No labels. No commitments. When I felt my feelings getting too involved and too attached, I removed myself from the non-relationships.

I want love, commitment, trust, mind blowing sex, companionship, and fun. I want all of that in a marriage, but in the mean time I want to be committed only to flights of fancy. That’s what I told myself. In walks him, the perfect yang to my yin. He came in and challenged me on everything I profess to be. I say I’m free spirited. He wants me to travel the world with him and eventually retire in South Africa. I say I don’t stay mad long, never want to go to bed mad, and would prefer the same from a partner. I became the one that shut him out because I was upset over a misunderstanding, and it was him finding numerous ways to reach out to me to solve the matter because he didn’t want me to go to bed mad. I say I love hard and completely. He says love is a choice one makes and decided to love me almost immediately, but patiently waited for my love in return. I say I am nonjudgmental and open-minded. He divulged parts of his sexual past with me that no other man would dare be so candid and honest about, forcing me to reevaluate my relationship deal breakers. I say I want a man that’s always aware of me. He’s so aware of me he senses my moods while being oceans and continents away and picks up on my subtle changes of habit. I tried to find anything to be wrong with him so he would go away and leave me to my cherished freedom. Every time I became lost in my mind and looking for a way out because I was starting to feel as though the demon of commitment was causing me to hyperventilate, he would always, as if on cue, find a sweet effortless way to woo me back to him. I suppose being single for years after a broken marriage can have you running away from the very things you seek the most.

Unlike the Bigs in my life, he sees past the sexpot enigma and free spirited nature of me and into the deepest hidden parts of me. He knows my fears, my bad habits, and hang-ups. He even loves the fact I have a real potty mouth and likes when I swear at him. Yeah, he’s a sick man. Slowly and consistently he’s making me see commitment as less of a restriction, and more of a freedom to totally be my whole self in the presence of another that totally adores and embraces my quirks. He’s totally down for love, commitment, trust, mind blowing sex, companionship, and fun, but he also has an idea of how he wants my wedding ring to look. I suppose that would serve as a Dear John letter to the former Bigs in my life. I was made for loving. He’s tapping into my reservoir of it.

You're Turning Me On

I love to watch men eat. If you’re ‘friends’ with me on facebook you may have seen my post on that. It’s true; I shamefully admit I love to watch my date/man/male companion eat. It’s such an erotic turn on for me. It’s no secret that food is one gateway to a man’s heart, so it’s something they hold dear to them. I like to watch because they eat with such passion and nothing else really matters at that moment other than their hunger being sated, and they are usually very happy and accommodating afterward. Let’s face it, men get mean, irritated, moody, and down right cranky when they are hungry. Feed them, and all the world’s a happy place. I think for me it also turns me on because I don’t have full undivided attention because he’s focused on something other than me, and yeah…it makes me think about that, too. Go ahead, judge me.

I am obsessed with men that let me do and be me but also let me know when it’s time to submit. I am very offbeat and quirky with many fleeting passions and obsessions, so it takes a special man to keep in sync with me. I had a special friend; we shall refer to him as Dr. Cush. Dr. Cush would allow me to tease him to his limits. I would straddle his lap, instruct him to lay back, close his eyes and not touch me. I would then very slowly maneuver my lips about his face but never have them actually touch his face. When he was done being teased he very gently but authoritatively let me know it was time for me to get up so he could put it down. He was also very patient when it came to dealing with me and my never ending quest to balance my highly spiritually aware half with my highly sensual and hedonistic half. It’s a dichotomy of incredibly opposing forces that causes me to indulge in my craving and later withdraw from sensual pleasures of the physical kind then start all over with indulgence. He was there. We would switch from teasing and coy wordplay to having conversations that never included sex. He intrigued me because of his ability to always be on whatever page I was on. That made me crave him all the more.

Danger is arousing. Not DANGER danger, but a small adrenaline rush. Dr. Cush sometimes came over for gatherings. I would be in the kitchen cooking or fixing a plate or something of the sort, and he would pass me to go to the refrigerator. If my hair was up in a bun he would very lightly kiss the back of my neck or ‘accidentally’ run his fingers across my bum. Because it was always so subtle coupled with the fact there was always to chance someone would see him, I would be instantly aroused.

Last but certainly not least, potential is a turn-on. A man’s potential, real or imagined, is often what keeps a woman’s heartstrings attached to a man she should probably let go of. As long as she can see potential she has hope.

So, what are your turn-ons?

The Good Thing

I believe inside every woman lies a portion of the Arc of Covenant, but I think the world has gotten it twisted. Thirsty females vying for men by any means necessary and putting up with nonsense are making men feel like they are the gifts, when in reality, women are the 'good things' that bring the promises of enriched lives. To truly love and cherish a woman is to love yourself and taste a small portion of Heaven on earth.


I can’t speak for all women, but I like to be pursued. Summon me like the king that you are, and I will respond in a queenly fashion. Many men have told me they don’t like being ‘hunted,’ rather they prefer to be the aggressors. They admit they like for a woman to show interest before they make their moves, though. Fair enough. A well-timed genuine compliment or warm smile can work wonders for a man’s ego and opens the door for communication, allowing him to make his move. That being said, hardly anything makes a woman feel sexier than being wanted. It makes her softly purr like a kitty and elevates her femininity factor. Make her feel wanted and you’ll be treated to her feminine wiles that you know you can’t ever get enough of. A thirsty woman will lay it all out and show you her hand from the onset and not save anything for later. A calculating woman, on the other hand, will bring variety, spontaneity, and a bit of mystique to the table, slowly stripping away her layers and leaving you wanting yet always sated and eager for her to give you more. That is a rare gift. One of my personal mottos is: I am many things, but a girl has to reserve some secrets, otherwise the mystique surrounding her wanes, and she’s left being just another average woman.

Women are healers, nurturers, and producers by nature. A mother’s kiss can heal anything from a scraped knee to a broken heart. A wife’s touch can heal a wounded ego and the safe haven of her body can erase all the stresses of life. When you release into her, physically or emotionally, she takes your raw emotions as they cleave to the walls of her heart, and she either produces you a miracle that shares your DNA, or she takes on whatever ails you and intercedes on her face at the feet of God on your behalf until the issue has been resolved. Just a soft look from her has the power to make you feel comforted and supported.

Our gifts are not only spiritual, but natural as well. Every man I know that has gotten married has experienced financial growth and stability like never before. Wives are indeed a blessing. I leave you with advice given to me from my mother. If a man truly wants you he will make an investment in you. Not necessarily monetarily, but he will want to spend time with you and do the little things that show he wants and respects you.

Queen

I am a Queen in my own right

I only answer to that of The King of Kings

I want and dream only the impossible

Because all things are possible

I am gentle and kind to my subjects

For I heal with my kind soft words

I am not a harsh taskmaster

But I wash away the harsh treatments of the rulers before me

There is tenderness in my right hand

And love in my left

An unquenchable fire of love consumes when I open my heart

And light radiates when I open my mouth

As His thoughts escape my lips

Newness and freshness fall upon the gatherers

When His will flows from my pen

Old layers of lies are stripped off

As new ones of lightness replace

I am a Queen of oceans and seas

My depths are noncomprehendible

But my movements soothe and awe

I am a goddess of light

My beauty isn’t seen when looked upon directly

But is manifested in and upon all it washes over

I am a giver

I am a giver of blood

I am a giver of life

I am a giver of will

I am a giver of life

I am a giver of hope

I am a giver of life

I am a giver of love

I am a giver of life

I am a receiver of the injured and wounded

Because I am a giver of life

A Queen, in my own Right

Pride and Egos

Sometimes pride and egos get in the way of revealing true feelings and sentiments. They are both bitter and hard pills to swallow. People spewing truth have the tendency to unintentionally bruise pride and egos. Either way, overinflated senses of either can leave you all alone and bitter in a world that was meant for couples. Dynasties, empires, kingdoms, and households operate much smoother and much more colorfully when the duke, duchess, emperor, empress, king, queen, man, and woman exist together and are at liberty to sharpen one other as iron sharpens iron. I will to reign with you, my handsome mister. Even when my words hurt…they heal, and this is what love does. It chastens, then soothes.

Church Girl

You know her type, the perky friendly greeter at the church, or the seemingly
standoff-ish member of the praise team that never fails to put a little extra
funk in her strut when a handsome mister happens to walk past. If you catch her
outside of the sanctuary she’s quick to tell any man that shows interest she’s
celibate and saving herself for marriage. Get her to agree to go out on a date
and the conversation will center on how she’s ready to settle down intermingled
with subtle hints of coy seduction. No time for games because she’s been there,
done that, and knows what she wants. Get her alone in your place or hers and if
you listen closely enough you can hear her battling with herself as she tells
you to “Stop” as her actions scream “Don’t quit!”

It’s easy to talk her panties off because she really doesn’t have a real
relationship with the same God she prays to, to send her a man. If she did she
would trust Him enough to send a man that’s not only worthy of what’s between
her legs, but understands why she’s holding out now, even if she’s not a
virgin. Instead, she becomes everything the man that’s blowing her back out
wants her to be. She cooks and cleans for him, alters her personal appearance
to be what he likes, and pulls every trick out the bag as she takes it fast and
sucks it slow. While she’s cowgirl up on his penis riding him into a drunken
stupor of cum-induced bliss, she’s praying to God that this man can see what he
has in her, that she’s a good catch. I mean, hell, she’s showcasing all the
attributes of a Susie Homemaker in addition to the fact that she can suck and
f*ck like a pro. Why wouldn’t he choose her?! After the cum has spilled and the
orgasms have subsided, she finds herself trying to convince him to go to church
with her. She now tries to lure him into having a relationship with God in
hopes he will marry her, even though he’s not committed to even be in an
exclusive relationship with her, because unlike her, he meant every word he
said when he told her he was not looking for a relationship. She just knew she
could get him to change his mind.

In her mind she feels she’s the only one, even though he has given her no such
affirmation, so she stalks his facebook page and marks her territory by leaving
little subtle hints and comments that let all the other women he’s ‘friends’
with know that she knows him on an intimate level. You know how women do, make
references to things one would only know by spending time in the presence of
another, like how he likes his food prepared or how his tattoos look in person.
Sly sh*t that men overlook, but other women pick up on. While she’s marking her
territory, he’s seeking out a real woman that walks what she talks. Yes, men
have double standards when it comes to women. Most times in their minds they
are thinking the woman isn't who she says she is after she's sexed him because,
well, she sexed him even though she professed to be a woman of the cloth. More
oft than not, she's just a low self-esteem having woman that doesn't even know
who she is. Poor little Church Girl pulled all her tricks out the bag for
nothing. She has become a bottomless pit waiting for the next man to swallow.
Maybe she should have listened more to the sermons. It's not like she wasn't in
church every Sunday.


I do not own the rights to the image used in this post

Wah-lah! Magic!

Almost every woman I know is totally cool with and down for being her man’s sweet little whore in the bedroom. We all want to blow our glittery freak dust in your face and call out “Wah-lah! Magic!” as we leave you in need of electrolytes. Okay, typing that made me giggle, but seriously, we want that. In the words of Jill Scott, “I am not afraid to be your lady. I am not afraid to be your whore.” Many of us are eagerly anticipating the day we can proudly let our freak flags fly and go hard in the paint with no inhibitions. What’s stopping us? Well, I’m glad you asked, love muffins.



The number one reason we don’t go all out in the bedroom is because there is either none, or a lack of, exclusivity and/or monogamy. There are some women that pull every trick out the bag upon the first second of penetration without so much as a mention of monogamy. Those women usually end up alone, labeled as top notch hoes (yes, there is a difference between being a hoe and your man’s private whore), and eventually wind up being bitter. Most times they are just looking for love and equate good sex with the power to make a man commit. While good sex is some powerful stuff, it rarely leads to long term commitment. Then there are other women. I love good sex as much as the next warm blooded able bodied adult, but I will NOT put my best lemon meringue cookies in a jar only to have the crumbs of the other assorted cookies in the jar downplay the flavor and appeal of my own. I will, however, toss my regular oreos or chips ahoy in that bad boy. I may even offer up the cheesecake filled ones if I’m really feeling the guy, but not my best. My best is reserved for the man that will savor the complexity, smoothness, and richness of me, all of and only me. This is the man whose last name I’d proudly wear and whose child I’d willingly house in my womb.


The second reason is lack of security. If a woman doesn’t feel she can freely be herself with you, you won’t get the best of her in any capacity. This rings true most times in relationships that are abusive on some level, be it emotional, mental, or physical. There is always an ever-present fear factor. Liberty can’t operate and coexist with fear. There was only one man in my life that completely allowed me to be me, and even with him I held back because I knew I was not the only one. If he had been my faithful husband it would have been on and popping. There would have been almost nothing I would not have tried at least once, minus a threesome. There can only be one femme fatale in any bedroom I occupy. Yes, I am a whole lot of vain and selfish with my toys.


The last reason is she just doesn’t want to. Maybe the man is married, or he’s just something to do to pass time. Maybe she’s doing it out of sympathy because she feels sorry for the poor bloke. I have never had sympathy sex, but it happens. I doubt I would twerk his pole in true porno fashion if I was simply putting out to pacify him. No sir, he would get the dollar store barely suitable for consumption box of cookies.


My advice? Don't give your pearls, whatever they may be, your time, body, sex, mental stimulation, heart, etc. to swine. Don't kiss frogs in hopes they'll become what you see in them that they can't, and don't lay down with dogs that have been infested with fleas (i.e. other women). The dog may not harm you, but those fleas bite with intent to inject bitterness and pain. If you are a man-eater and can separate your heart from your vagina, then by all means, cast those pearls and enjoy yourself a nice BLT afterward. Now that, would be magic. I’ve never met a woman that could pull that one off and walk away still feeling whole.

These are solely my opinions. I do not own the rights to the image used in this post.