“..but it was something about Rem that was different than Pucker and Mitch. I respected him to the utmost.

Rem was very masculine and very in control of himself. He was principled. Disciplined at the mind and body-conversation: superb. He knew his self-worth and had boundaries.

Over the years, no matter who I was with or just hanging out with; Rem was always that tightly woven fabric in between Ian, Pucker, Nick and Mitch. My connection with Rem was on a whole other level-because I respected him as a man-whole heartedly. I felt completely heterosexual and constant with him-completely protected and cared for by him. As a friend, like a big brother and like a man (all in one) yet, we were very close. He loved to come by and check on me. He would call it “stopping by to check on my heart.” It was cute. He knew me very well and knew that my heart had never really “landed” (safely) with anyone-I was always fickle. He knew that too. And because of that, no matter how much I knew he liked me, he was not about to let me into his unless he could have me his way (I observed that much about him too).

Unlike anybody, whenever Rem would come around, my whole world would slow down. Everything was at a normal pace. I only felt any peace and normalcy, in every way, with Rem-no one else: ever. Our relationship was so righteous-from day one of our friendship. I loved that about him and he loved that about me.    

I was bossy. He was a boss.

I was very secretive.

My personal rule was to never tell a man everything. Matter of fact: nothing. My don’t-ask-won’t-tell policy was tighter than Fort Knox. Yet, we had absolutely no secrets between us.

I liked to talk. He liked to listen.

When I would cry, he would hold me.

When I thought I had all the final answers; he showed me other ways.

He was very fond of me and would always hold me close to him like I was a kid, when he would talk to me.

Other times when he would talk to me, he would be pointing his finger at my chest as if he was trying to touch my heart with it.

And I loved him-so righteously.

I knew my heart was safe from harm. And there was no other way for us to go with this thing, but up.

Even still, knowing my fickle ways, he could not resist my charm.

Idealistic and structured, Rem had a plan for himself-a plan for his life. Even if not for a life with him, if any woman was to be apart of him, she too, had to have a plan for life-period.

I knew nothing of the sort.

I was just taking everything one day at a time-come what may.

But day after day, our closeness and friendship escalated closer than close, then into a relationship without yet declaring it.

Knowing how frivolous my heart was, he totally handled me with kid-gloves-but still, right under his wing rather than from a ten foot pole. He was hopeful that my heart would land (with him).

In the beginning, he felt the need to call me nearly every third hour or so-just checking in to see what I was doing; trying to learn my pattern outside of what he had  known for the years that we had been friends-declared.

By this time, I was into more sophisticated jobs other than the telemarketing gigs he and I had run all through. Yet, at this time-education (first) was what he was on.

He felt like having an education was key to a certain kind happiness and security in a life ever after, be it married or single. He was hell bent on following through with his plan.

No matter where I was: at work on breaks and lunches, my mom’s or at my house; we would spend a lot of time solidifying future plans for his future, my future and a future together. He wanted me to be willing and ready, and for us to have a plan that was being put into action as we grew together. Nothing wrong with that, but in the back of my mind, college was the farthest thing from it, because I had been so caught up into the cycle of working and making money, paying bills, having a cozy place to live with a car to drive. That just seemed like “life” to me, and as long as I could have some money in the bank and a job to work; then I would be afforded those things. That was life-one day at a time. That was “living” (to me). 

My life was different than my fairytale life that once was, and this is where I stood.

But because I felt a special kind of peace around and in me with Remedy, I stood behind him-let him run the show.

He understood everything that I did say, just as well as he knew how to read between the lines of all that I couldn’t say. But he was insistent on being a friend in my life but having me as his wife in the end. He knew that I was with Mitch, who I could never shake since that day. I liked Mitch a lot, but he came in at a sexually opportune time because mentally and emotionally, I was with Remedy although we had never been intimate.

Rem always trumped everyone-no matter what. I had respect for him-as a man, as a human being and as a person, and he, the same for me.

My situation with Rem worked out well because going in to it, I owed Mitch no more than an explanation of where Rem stood with me. Remedy had a child, whose mother knew where I stood with him.

In the beginning of all this, though Mitch wasn’t living with me, he would be over a lot. It was common for him to know that anytime the phone was pressed against my ear, Rem would most probably be on the other side of it. Rem’s child’s mom knew the same over on their end of the world as well. It was just like that.

Although serious about life, Remedy was fun, with an awesome sense of humor. He wasn’t into having a bunch of drama and confusion. Wherever he was, he demanded that he be respected as the man that his presence commanded. And he was man enough to know that with that expectation, honesty was very necessary. So, I had no choice but to be the same way too-where Mitch was concerned. So, Mitch had to be okay with him.

In a nutshell, I had my own place and a “kinda-boyfriend” and Remedy had his own place a “kinda-girlfriend.” She knew that his first interest was in being a good father and making sure that she too, was okay. So with that, she had a place in his life. So, she had to be okay with me.

She had to be okay with me so much so, that quality time with Remedy would be spent at his place on Saturday and Sundays because most often during the week, our lives and schedules would be so tied up, that those two days would be the best we could do to squeeze each other in. We looked forward to each and every moment of it too. It was always emotional and romantic; spiritual over all. I never allowed myself to feel or share that kind of intimacy with anyone. I never liked men sleeping in the bed with me. But it felt natural with Rem. It would be so fun to be cuddled under his tight grasp-laying in his bed after a complete afternoon or evening of him cooking for me, me helping him clean his house, do his laundry, fold his clothes and giving him massages.

I loved to stand behind him and hold him close while I would rub my hands all over his narrow chest as if he was a big man: tall as the clouds and wide as the sea. When I would hold him, he reminded me of something great and big. He felt like something massive in my arms, through and through. I would rub all over him like he was this never-ending piece of something-trying hard to not miss a spot. He would laugh and blush. I could feel what he was feeling on the inside, right there in my arms and hands. 

I would serenade him, our two favorite old songs: Lalah Hathaway-‘I’m Coming Back” and Howard Hewett- “Show Me.” He seemed to fall so much more in love with me after that. It became a basic necessity for him in order to get a good nap in the afternoon or power nap in the evening: “Angie, I had no idea all these years that you could sing!” he would say to me.

“I just love these two songs as well Remedy,” I would reply coyly.

“It’s just a trip that no matter what, every single day, for all these years I learn something new about you-like it’s never going to end. And that’s why I keep you near. I need you. You are such a refreshing thing to me. A challenge for me and a challenge for myself in so many ways Angie-you just have no idea,” he said-while staring into my eyes and holding my cheeks in his hand like he was holding his favorite bowl of cereal. 

I would look out from the third floor window on the bed where we would lay, to where Remedy’s Baby’s mother would be patiently waiting for me to leave. It would be sad sometimes; my coming, going, while there, or after a nap with Rem, she would hang out in her car-patiently-for hours. It was weird. I had never seen someone so patient in their defiance in all my life. She was fierce with it. Almost as if doing so, would assure her that with just enough patience and tenacity; all that hours of sitting in the car outside was putting in some emotional time bank that would deduct from my emotional time spent with him, eventually.

When arriving or leaving, respectfully, I would address her by name-tell her “hello,” and she would give me that same half smile: half hurt, half understanding, but would address me by name-just the same, respectfully.

Whenever Mitch would be over, and Rem would call, Mitch would have massive conniption fits. Rem was always respectful to Mitch-just as BabyMama was always respectful to me. Rem was a respectable man-period. The way he handled all things, and the way he conducted himself around his work, play or at love. Nobody disrespected Rem, and Mitch knew better. Like BabyMama, Mitch was, too, was understandably defiant, but he would pop-off at the mouth in some way or another. And every time, Rem would kindly put him in his place, like a man redirecting some pre-teen. Rem conducted himself like he had money and power-even while merely working towards simply having something out of life. I never even knew if money or power was the goal. He just carried himself like he already had it. 

Yet, (in all my immaturity) Mitch was like a human shield from me being all the way in with Rem. It was good to have Mitch around because with him and a dash of BabyMama, I could put up in front of me: a shield to guard me away from those responsibilities and (reasonable) demands that Rem would place upon me-necessary for a better life regardless whether or not it was with or without him-but preferably with him.

Truth be told, I couldn’t bit more see those things anymore than I could remember my fairytale life as-was. Sometimes it was too much for me to deal with, and Mitch became another kind of convenience than the one he originally served since that night that brought him into my life.

Rem tried hard not to make me feel pressured. He did not want to impose upon me-himself or his dreams for me and him, without having my full and willing participation. Oh how I wished that he would just let this love “be,” just let it happen, without the plan and the guidelines that came with it. I wasn’t willing to fight for that but I was willing to fight to keep him. He was so perfect for me. We loved each other truly-madly-deeply. We respected and adored one another and little did he know, because his love (combined with his physical presence); any sexual urges that I had could at least be directed toward and with him: that special someone that I knew truly-madly-deeply loved me-who I too, loved for more than just sex. He was willing enough, man enough, and mature enough to correct errors in my ways if he uncovered any. I never respected anyone like I respected him, and I knew that he was really team: Me. But at the same time, was team: Him-not willing to accept just-anything just to be team: Me.

Over the years even as friends, Rem knew that he was a bit much for my head, but when we solidified our relationship as a couple, he did not want to lose me. He tried so hard to oblige me by taking “us” (our lives and situations “as it was”) one day at a time. Yet, on his part, a full plan was in action and always was-even before me.

Although I did not know quite how to communicate what I was feeling to him, I do know that I had it in me to communicate to him: “let’s let this love “be,” “happen,” and work towards a one-a-day kind of plan, just to see where it leads us.” Sure, I could have communicated that to him. I know that because he loved me and did not want to lose me; he would have certainly obliged. He had a plan when he came to me, and he had that same plan when he fell in love with me. So, for the love and keepsake of me, he would have obliged-I know this. But in the end, I also know that he would have resented me for it because I told him that I was with the plan but knew I was straddling the fence, just hoping that my love for him would be enough for him to take me one day at a time-less the plans and such.

He was a man first, a man with a plan second, who happened to find and fall in love with a woman without a plan, whom he took on to fit into his plan-but put her first. After the canoodling and honeymooning, we would not have worked. Through all my love and attention, he would have eventually seen that through it all. Though I said I was with the plan, my plan of action was non-existent. So yes, indeed, in due time-he would have noticed. This I know is true. Hence, bon voyage: BabyMama.  

But for me, bonjour: Mitch-my human shield and support for straddling this struggle of mine. 

We took a short break from one another while Rem was working, going to school and moving into his new place. He couldn’t wait to talk to me and wanted me over for dinner, where he baked some salmon, sprinkled with basil and olive oil, steamed broccoli and whipped up his homemade mashed potatoes that he liked to brag about.

As our food digested and the fun and laughter was ingested, the mood of the room turned very serious, although no one was there but the two of us. I got so nervous, because this moment-this night-was like we were on our first date although we had been on many.

In this moment, we were both feeling kind of “well-rehearsed” for this night, however, feeling a bit stage fright I guess-mostly on my part, because I sat on his couch wiggling my feet that barely touched the floor. My hands were tightly closed between my legs. I kept smiling and glancing at him from the corners of my eyes back and forth; giggling like some shy kid. I couldn’t help it. I was so embarrassed. I think he meant to intimidate me for that moment-in all his seriousness. I loved him, I respected him so if he did-it worked on me. He was watching me the whole time with a serious look on his face.

With my shoulders up as if I was feeling a cool breeze, I continued to swing my short feet from the tall couch. He reached over to touch my arm. I didn’t budge-I tried to ignore it. He rubbed it delicately again, and scooted close to me. He then kissed my lips. I received him by relaxing my hands and body as he rubbed my shoulder and arms; squeezing and pushing them upwards as if he was protecting me. I was shaking uncontrollably.

“Angie, are you okay?” he asked.

“Yeah Remedy, I’m okay, I’m okay,” I replied.

He whispered all the right things into my ear while he slow danced with me:

“Angie it has been torture for me. I have waited for this night for so many years. I have dreamed about being able to give to you what you deserve. I don’t want you to do anything but give you-me, and let me have you. And after this night, I don’t want to let you go-ever,” he whispered to me.

Still nervous, I was shaking like a virgin.

He then lay me down and kissed me gently from head to toe, as if I was some fragile piece of artwork that he cherished. He was so gentle, and patient and well rehearsed for this moment with me-I could tell. I could feel.

I noticed that he laid his kisses longest on my lips, my eyes, my cheeks, my breasts and my “war scar:” my cesarean mark on my stomach. That place had always been off limits because I never felt comfortable being kissed or touched there. It was too sacred to me. I did not push him away from it though, I relaxed when he did-and I never allowed that to happen. Rem knew my story behind it, so I felt safe.

I never allowed anyone to kiss my lips that way because I did not like to kiss anyone deeply and passionately like that unless I really loved them and in turn, I knew they really loved me. That kind of kiss hadn’t happened since I was a virgin and shared it with Santana ions ago. Rem kissed me deeper and deeper, as if he was invading my space; daring me to reject him so that he could grab me and say: “You had better not dismiss my kiss because I know that you love me-and you know that I love you!” I was just never one for men laying an open-mouthed kiss on me simply because he liked or thought he loved me. That French-kissing shit-no way. A sensual kiss would do. French kissing and passionate kisses, for me, are more intimate than sex and oral sex.

Yet, I did not have a problem being intimate with Rem.

He kissed me deeply and passionately-I kissed him back: deeply and passionately.

He French-kissed me-I French-kissed him back.

“I’ve loved you since the very day we met Angie,” Rem said to me.

He refused to let me do anything-he just wanted to let me lay there and be totally taken care of from head to toe, front to back, inside and out. He wanted it all. He wanted to do it all.

Just when he was about to enter me: head in, lips trembling and placed upon mine, tears in his eyes and tears rolling down mine; the phone rang. I jumped. He held my hand and lay his face into my neck and whispering all the right shit in my ear but that phone kept ringing repeatedly while he slid that piece of steel up in me. I blew air into my jowls. I was startled. He had some exclusive dick and he knew just what he was working with. I just lay there-feeling loved so truly-madly-deeply, listening to him grunt and moan with a “finally” kind of pleasure.

But BabyMama would not quit ringing that phone.

Remedy’s back was hunched and into it so good at this time, he probably did not even hear the phone ring. I whispered:

“Please, please. Just get the phone. Please, just answer it,” I begged him, really wanting him to un stuff me, just for a second. That dick required lamas breathing in order to take all in. It was heavy just sitting there on it and at it.

He was so angry when he reached to grab the phone. He, like I, already knew who it was: 

“Is something wrong with Madison?” he picked right up and answered.

“No,” she replied.

“Please, please, not right now. Quit calling back to back like that. You just don’t understand right now. Please quit calling right now. Please!” he pleaded with her.

“I will call you back. I promise!” he assured her.

He then held me so close like he didn’t want to let me go. And he did not.

That little pause in this moment must have built Rem up so strong because he was brick hard and thick like a piece of construction steel. It was magic, and like magic; he made love to me like his name was David Copperfield and I was the rabbit in the hat. Each thrust, I would shed a tear like it was reinforcement that he was stroking-way too good-stroking just like the way he loved me; stroking as if he had a lot to prove. I didn’t understand it. Whenever a tear would fall, he would kiss it too. I couldn’t explain to him why I was crying and he didn’t ask me-he touched me and kissed each one like he already knew.

It was incredible. He screwed me for what seemed like hours and typically, I do not like to be fucked for over fifteen minutes. But this time, time slipped into to future. That fuck was righteous-nothing like I ever felt in my life. His fucked matched with how he knew me: well. It was as if he had been in me and with me before, yet, he never had. My body was so relaxed that I think I cried through the whole fuck, and he comforted me by talking me through it in spurts.

It was amazing. I was stunned. I was frozen.

After we made love, we showered together.

I still did not have to do anything. He washed my body for me and I just watched him wash his.

When we got out of the shower, still, I did not have to do a thing. He applied lotion all over my body like he was caring for a baby.

Into the night, we lay there and cuddled while watching movies and talking.

He treated this night like consummating a marriage, where he was the bride giving of himself, yet I felt like the virgin. I could tell that he wanted me to make some major decisions that night. That fuck told me that he didn’t put in work like that to just go to waste. That gift of a dick had strings attached:

“I’m not trying to pressure you, but time waits for no man-you know. I mean, I’ve been busy out here, getting my plans into action and I have you in mind to share them with me,” he explained.

He positioned himself exact and matter-of-factly; pointing at my temple, my crouch-and then poked into my chest as if he was digging at my heart: 

“Part of me feels like, yeah, I’m getting your time, I know I got your mind, and now I have your body-but I want your heart Angie. I want some total act-right Angie. I do. I need that from you,” he pleaded-looking me in the eyes.

I could not respond. Instead, I sulked and cuddled under his arm like it was him that I was hiding from. And I was. I did not know how to reply.

That night, it was almost as if our roles were reversed. He was that girl in love, giving it-under the guise and hopes of a love that was forever after all.

I was that guy who loved her, but wanted the option of having her forever after all, however, preferring to take all: one day at a time; shying away from her countless conversations about solidifying what they had. 

You see, the solid and unique thing about Rem, unlike any man that I had ever known, was that his role as a man (in and of itself) really was “switched.” Unlike the average man-who lead by his penis-Rem (like the average woman) considered his lovin’ and his dick-a gift and prized possession. Not because of ego and narcissism, but because he was principled and structured (yet-still sexy, fun and not uptight).

For him, gone were the days of fucking on urges. He needed a reason-he had matured past that dick-of-urgency stage. A stage most men never reach.

All men lead with one through all these things: their mind, their heart, their dick and/or their money. Rem led in that order.

A lot of men lead with their dick and/or their money (if they got it); fucking their own hearts and minds, as if they did not have one, or have no clue about what a heart and mind was used for.  

Rem had it all in a bag.

He knew his worth as well as what he was working with, and a woman had to earn that dick. It was exclusive and incredible, and so was he. So in some way, like the average girl, having given herself to that man she loved and wanted to spend the rest of her life with, Rem, felt hurt. He needed some answers that night-but for me-I didn’t even know what I wanted to do with myself at the time, let alone a man like him.

It takes a certain caliber of woman to understand and appreciate that caliber of a man. They are so few and far between, that a woman would have to be evolved in order to recognize him if she met him. I just wasn’t that woman-that evolved woman-so I ducked, dodged and sulked; afraid to answer him, because I couldn’t.

But I could tell that he was next to wanting to get married and make a life with me as soon as yesterday-all I had to do was say what he wanted to hear. All that was much too much for me: his plans-his ready-for-action; all that was a step that I was not ready for. My mind wasn’t prepared for that kind of preparation. I was so busy taking and living life one day at a time.

The last time I was in preparation mode, my life changed drastically and my fairytale became a stark-raving reality and one that I had been living in for the past four years-even in that very moment.

I wasn’t a stranger to what it felt like for somebody to love me truly-madly-deeply.

That fairytale ended too.

Now here I was, standing in the middle of real-life again, being asked to [what seemed like to me] another fairytale. And fairytales, I learned that the reality about “love” (when all is literally said and done) is, that it was something to enjoy in the moment together-all in the moments together-period. Love has no place or control over itself when the moment(s) are away from either party. The biggest reward you got out of “love” was if somebody loved you back. The fact that you shared love with them were those moments; those irreplaceable moments not able to be duplicated. But in the bigger scheme of things, you didn’t do anything but teach them how to love and make love to another person.

Virginity and the newness of things are really trial basis.’

People are here to learn love lessons from each other until they end up with the one person-later on, who, at that time, will be in receipt of that person having finally gotten right: all that you taught them about love and making love.

I had the fairytale first stop.

Let me tell it, I had a couple of other stops along the way, and now, here we are: Rem and I-at what I already knew about and experienced so, I would recede with caution. 

No, I wasn’t walking around with a broken heart, I was well-good and over every stop along the way. It’s just that when it came to love, I understood it to be this way.

I wanted love, I wanted Remedy’s love but I wanted it one day at a time.

No more plans and preparation for me anymore. 

As dated as it may be, when Tina Turner sang that song, she was speaking for me. The lyrics may as well have had my picture right next to them: “What’s love got to do with it? What’s love but a second-hand emotion? What’s love got to do with it? / I’ve been taking on a new direction, and I have to say. I’ve been thinking about my own protection. It scares me to feel this way.”

And I put my life on that.

Receding with caution..."

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