Page 2 of The Virgin Playboy

“Just because I can, doesn’t mean I should,” I defended. “Plus, it gives us something to do after not seeing each other for a few months.”

“Not our fault,” they both interrupted in unison, and they were right. I’d had plenty of times to make a weekend visit, but I’d been swamped trying to transition between careers.

“You guys got me. But I did make a fly maid of honor at your wedding, girl,” I pointed in Yenory’s direction, seeking her approval.

“I would’ve made a better one,” Carly joked. “So, you lucky I couldn’t fit my dress last minute.” Yenory had had a hard time choosing between us, so I have abjugated myself from the responsibility at first, but shit happens, so I ended up in the role anyway. We were all friends, so I had never wanted a silly title to come between us. In the end, it hadn’t even mattered.

“I’m back now. Not saying I have so much free time on my hands, but it’s way different than sixteen-hour days, eight states away.”

“You know I’ve always been jealous of your time in ATL, girl. Between all them fine ass brothas, and that co-star who couldn’t keep his eyes off of you, I just know you was getting it in!” Carly boasted.

“I mean, I wouldn’t say all that. And Charlie, that was a big nuh-uh,” I cringed.

“So y’all wasn’t fucking?” Like she thought insinuating her thought again was going to breed a different answer.

“No!” I dismissed again, only this time with more passion.

“Damn, now I feel bad, because I totally thought y’all was doing something. I feel like I can tell when a man loves chocolate. The way he looked at you, ain’t no way he just liked white women,” Yenory admitted. Which in her case might make sense. I thought it was icky to be defined that way, but I’m sure as a dark-skinned woman, she’d been described that way all the time.

I was definitely more brown-skinned, only light skinned depending on what state you visited and what their measurement of light was. When I thought of light, I thought of my dad, a Bajan man with beige skin and light eyes, and I for sure took after my African-American mom, someone you’d never have to question where she was from because she was a proud Southern belle from the state of Alabama.

“That was just how Charlie looks. He looked at everyone like that. He was a white guy at a mostly Black viewed news station. Dude was never in his element, and we were all just good at making him feel at home.”

“I don’t know if I believe that,” Carly rolled her eyes.

“Well you’re gonna have to, because I was not fucking my work husband.”

“But you gotta admit, he was giving undercover freak,” Carly pointed at me, trying to make a point.

“Will you stop asking about what I thought about my former co-worker?” I protested.

“Alright, I’ll stop. But no lie, after catching print, I could tell the man was hung in them god damned suits. Might’ve made me break my rule about not dating white men,” Carly took a sip of her drink.

“To be real with you guys, after the Atlanta dating scene, I think I need a break from all dating for a while,” wearily collapsing into my temporary bean bag couch.

“Don’t do that,” Carly dismissed. “Ain’t no way a time wasn’t had in the epicenter of brothas.”

“So, it actually had nothing to do with Black men, and everything to do with the options. I did hook up, try and date, have my best discernment when looking to dip my toe in it. The problem is, every sista moves to Atlanta looking for the same. The men have too many options, so end up committing to no one,” I admitted. “I could be in New York for that!” I reiterated.

“You know what? Lemme cancel my flight there,” Carly joked.

“There were pros and cons. Atlanta produced some of the finest motherfuckas I’ve ever seen in my life, so there’s that. But for every one who wasn’t looking for a commitment, the next one would be an even bigger horror story from the last. I was either dealing with dudes who were my age or older with no financial direction or discipline. And I don’t care how fine you are, I’m not supporting you and your mixtape at forty-one,”

“I know that’s right,” Yenory said.

“Then there’s the ones in need of a nurse with a purse. Be straight off of chemo, fighting getting their dick up, still trying. Maybe you should focus on your health?” I joked.

“Good God, lemme get a sip of that bottle,” Carly reaching over for something stronger.

“Don’t even get me started on DL men. I am as open to men exploring their sexuality, because it’s actually healthier than lying about it, but it seemed like they got off on the deception, and I’m not risking my health for some dick. Granted, it wasn’t all bad. The most amazing guys I met were all educated, bougie enough for my parents liking—but you know? Hood enough for me. But I’ll take a hood nigga from New York any day for a good crack, because at least what I get is what I see. Atlanta wasn’t hitting like these tri-state demons,” I admitted.

“At least you tried,” Yenory noted, though I know given her own freshly new marriage, she just wanted to see her friends find and hold onto love like she had managed to. Having single friends, I’m sure she felt like she was bragging having a great partner, but she had been through a lot, so I didn’t see her showing off she had a good man, as bragging. I was absolutely more career focused than worrying about my love life, so if anything, I was right where I needed to be.

“Maybe I'm just at a point where dating is just a waste of time for me. I'm forty-one, financially secure and stable. I'm asking whether my peace, freedom and quiet is worth ruining just to have partnership, because that's really what I'm giving up.” But when the whole room became quiet, I felt like I had to remind them of who I was.

“Not that I’m saying I’d turn down a good dick down every once in a while,” I retorted, forcing Carly to step in, Yenory nearly snorting the alcohol out her nose from laughing,

“See, I thought you was talking crazy for a second. Was about to accuse you of being a body snatcher, because you definitely on ya’ own with that one,” Carly joshed.