Sexual Storms

“The perfect girl” experience. I had just gotten out of the military and was attending a local state university in Houston. I had graduated from another university with a degree in sociology before being inducted into the Navy. My attempt at the present university was to get a Masters’ degree in social work. It was the only Masters’ degree program I could find at the university that was compatible with my degree in sociology. My goal was to eventually become a social worker. I had been on campus for about a month. I was carefree, enjoying the camaraderie of the campus. If I applied myself, I could complete my degree in two years. I hadn’t been prepared for much, but knew I wanted to do something with my life. They say you can only do what you are trained to do. I didn’t want to be like other members of my family and community: taking minimum-wage, intensive-labor jobs when they could get them. One day I was strolling across the campus and noticed this beautiful girl standing on the steps of one of the buildings. She was 38-28-38, 140 lbs., uniform legs, pretty face, knew how to accessorize her clothing, and kept herself neat and well presented. She was built like a brick-shit house, as they say in some parts of the South. As the Commodores say in one of their hit tunes, “The girl was stacked, that’s a fact, ain’t holding nothing back.” I found out later she was a track star and was one of the most popular girls on campus. She ran around mostly with athletes. I thought this was her preferred crowd. I wanted to get to know her but didn’t think she would pay me any attention. And I wasn’t willing to invest the time and energy to get to know her. I thought attempting to get to know her would be a waste of time. I wrote her off as being out of my league. I kept seeing her practically every day. Usually, I would see her in the cafeteria or just walking around the campus. I never attempted to approach her. I had written her off as too rich for my blood. I was in the cafeteria with my roommate David one day, and I asked him what he thought of her. “She’s too sophisticated for you, my brother. She thinks she’s better than everyone else, and she runs around with a lot of sophisticated people.” “How come you say that?” I asked. “Just calling it as I see it,” David said. “Do you really know anything about her?” “Face it, man, she is a big-time track star, you wouldn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell with her.” “Most girls put on a façade, but when they go home, they cry into their pillow. We all have similar tears, similar fears, and die in so many years.” “But you must convince them of that fact. The guy who can convince them of that fact will win their heart,” David said. “You’re right.” “Don’t mind me. Give it the old-college-boy try. You never know what you can do. If you are the right guy, you might be able to break through that thick ice.” “I’m going to give it a try. I believe there is more to her than meets the eye. Besides, you never know what might happen when I turn on my charms,” I said, injecting a bit of humor. “I wish you luck, you might be wasting your time. Let me know how it turns out. Worse scenarios have turned out well for some people. If you can break her down, you are a good one.” “If I can make a connection, I will let you know. I believe she has a heart beneath that icy exterior.” The following week, one night in the dorm, I told David that I had somehow got her to invite me over to her place. I told David what happened. “I did it, man.” “What did you do?” “She invited me over to her place.” “You said you could do it, but I didn’t believe it.” “When you go over there, take it easy, don’t rush it. She is not the type of girl that will go for the rush.” I didn’t feel I should listen to David’s advice. He wasn’t the best when it came to understanding people in relationships. He was an engineering major. I had never seen him with a real girlfriend. Here he was trying to give me advice on how to manage my relationship. It was my fault because I was the one who came to him seeking his advice. I deserved whatever I got from him. I should have known never to ask a broke man how to manage my finance, and never ask a drowning man how to swim. By the same token, never ask an overweight man how to lose weight. I listened to what David had to say, but knew somehow, I was on my own in this situation. I don’t understand why some Black men like to play kiss and tell. They get in the habit of bragging about their exploits to other men they know. I don’t believe men of other groups do that as much as Black men. I feel that way because once in college, I was bragging about my exploits, and one individual who was from another group looked at me as if I was an idiot. It is hard to break such a habit. Check out this and other of the author’s books @ amazon.com, or www.willisjay.com, by Jay Thomas Willis.