three years ago, I invited a “woman in crisis” into my life. Tracie’s
son had just died in a tragic mysterious way, at a time when he was just coming into his manhood. Tracie was distraught and suicidal. I felt a mixture of concern,
sympathy and lust for her. I was legitimately worried that she might attempt to take her own life. She had fallen out with her boyfriend at the time, so I asked her to come live with me. It turned out to be one of the worse mistakes of my post-divorce life.
took out her misery on me, Hennessey, Newports 100’s and the A&E Channel- watching detective shows all day and well
into the night. My small apartment became polluted by cigarette smoke. My pillows and sheets smelled like ashtrays. We began fighting
because of her need to go and get cigarettes at 3a.m. I found out later that
the “cigarette runs” were really drug runs. Tracie was hiding a severe
cocaine/crack habit that was the underlying cause for the break up with the former
boyfriend who lost his house in an effort to finance their drug habit. She also
had an addiction to vibrating sex toys. The addiction to vibrating toys was an
ongoing deterrent to satisfying my libido. Poor Mister Wiggles developed an aversion
to the sound of a whining dildo. He developed an inferiority complex and would
shrink from the sound.
three weeks, of living in ethanol fueled misery, I was no longer concerned about her committing suicide. My fears turned to appearing on "72 Hours" or "America’s Most Wanted" for the murder of Tracie Foxx. My 'classically trained ballerina' and wannabe model was in reality an ex-stripper
with an aversion to fellatio, a drug habit and a history of abuse by the men in her life.
found myself cohabiting with a woman who did not love herself and had no idea how to love a good man. For 29 days, I ate her; I fed her and provided her with enough alcohol and cigarettes to keep her sedated. My years of living with Dracula had taught me how to care for faded beauty queens
but the law of diminishing returns was in effect.
Tracie is tall, slim, model beautiful, bright yella and has hazel eyes. She Is used to being deified by men not treated as an equal. Several
days before she disappeared, we argued in her automobile, as she was driving me downtown.
As I exited the car, she told me she was leaving for Chicago and would never see me again. She sped off in the rain. That night about 10, there was a knock on my door. It was Tracie standing there red eyed and crying. She had
driven down I-94 to Jackson, Michigan, turned around and come back to Detroit. She threw her arms around me, placed her head on my chest and began sobbing hysterically. As I returned her embrace, she pushed away from me, stood in front of me and explained
that she had left because she did not know how she should feel about what was happening between us. No man had ever treated her like I had and she did not know how to deal with it.
A few days
later, she was gone and so was my gold nugget bracelet. I never heard from her
again and made no effort to contact her or her family. Stealing from me was an
act of betrayal; an act she felt compelled to perform in order to forever sever the
bond we had developed.
been over three years, since Tracie left me. When she departed, my desire to
have fulfilling relationships with women left with her. I have no desire to have
a girlfriend, a live-in partner or in having a monogamous relationship. I no
longer practice Tongue Foo. I don’t go on dates. Beautiful women ignore me and I avoid the advances of Plane Janes.
These days it’s blow friend or no friend. MOJO just aint tryin to
work no mo.
On the positive
side: Mister Wiggles is no longer intimidated by gyrating dildos. I also know that the art of Tongue Foo is like riding a
bike: once you figure it out you never forget how to do it. And at the end of
the day I know a hard man is good to find - especially one with a 3-year-old hard on.