Okra, Fries and Finding Mr. Right
He Caught Me with His Friend
Alex was great. He had all the credentials for the perfect boyfriend. He was good looking but not in an intimidating way. He was a successful lawyer with an awesome pad in Midtown. I escorted my girlfriend that afternoon and I ended up staying after she left us. She had tricked me into coming with her because she figured we would hit off. She was right. We talked about Africa and how he was torn between his Ghanaian and Sierra Leonean heritage. I was completely hooked.
The afternoon drifted into the evening and he convinced me to indulge in Shoko — his favorite meal. What was happening? We were rolling like a longtime couple. Nothing weird or awkward had befallen us yet and the rhythm continued into the late hours.
Dizzy from wine, energetic conversation and imagining what it would be like to have him on top of me — I made the first move. It felt good kissing him and having his hands explore my body. My heavy breathing matched his and that was my cue to proceed into the second phase.
He abruptly raised my hand before it got under his shirt. “Lets not go there tonight.” I suddenly felt like an oversexed whore. Of course it was too soon to consummate what was barely a relationship. I quickly got up and, with a smile, told him I needed to leave anyway. We hugged and as he walked me out of the building we made plans to see each other again.
The following Sunday afternoon, as we were lazily watching a movie, he grabbed my butt and started aggressively undressing me. I was turned on. Then things took a mysterious turn. The grind had begun except I was searching for my groove. He was working overtime and I had to call on my acting skills to keep up. Afterwards, as we lay there, I was grateful for the darkness. The look on my face would have emasculated him.
Things only got worse after that first encounter and the tension was building. I couldn’t bring myself to address the issue. I just needed to believe I could have great sex again. On the night I wish I could forget, I was having wine with Ade, who happened to be Alex’s college friend.
He was a naughty boy, and his antics were getting the best of me. We were both waiting for my boyfriend to come home so we could head out to dinner. In the meantime, I drunkenly dared Ade to “make me feel good.” And while he obliged, the door opened and I was horrified.
We were promptly cast out and, as much as I tried to feel guilty , all I could accommodate was my need for more wine as well as what Ade was so willing to provide. I became addicted to my new partner in crime, until I found out that he was providing the same services to two other acquaintances.
I felt shitty. I felt even shittier that I had ruined what could have been a great relationship. I even had the audacity to try to revive it; the door was slammed in my face. That hurt. But then again, being stuck with a guy who was minimally endowed for eternity would’ve hurt too.
Shoko Ingredients
3 Tablespoons vegetable oil, divided, 1 pound boneless beef stew meat, cubed, 2 medium onions, chopped, 4 cloves garlic, 14.5 ounce can diced tomatoes, drained (reserve the tomato juice), 1 Tablespoon grated ginger, 4 Serrano peppers, quartered lengthwise, 1 green bell pepper, thinly sliced, 1 cup beef stock, 3/4 pound baby spinach, Salt and pepper to taste.
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