Page 5 of Phase Two
I had two conversations with Alise that were long enough to scratch the surface level. I wanted to divulge enough information about myself, so that she wouldn’t feel too uncomfortable to go on a date with me. I made reservations at a very nice Italian restaurant, and we met there. Alise walked up to the entrance wearing black spandex pants that looked like a second layer of skin. The sides had black fringes and on her top half was a white corset. On her feet were white platform heels. Her pixie cut full of curls was doing something to a nigga. Something about that haircut made her look grown grown.
“Damn,” I mumbled as I opened the door for her. My compliment made Alise smile.
“Thank you,” she walked past me leaving a scent of peaches and vanilla behind her. My thoughts were far from pure.
Once we were seated, she ordered a glass of wine, and I ordered lemonade.
“On the phone you mentioned that you’re not drinking at the moment.” She propped her chin on her fist as she stared at me looking ready to hear whatever I had to say.
“Yes. I’m doing a thirty day fast. Not for religious reasons or even health reasons. I just want to lock in and focus with limited distractions and sacrifice. I’m abstaining from alcohol, red meat, sweets, and sex.”
Alise’s brows lifted. “Wow. That’s really dope. I respect that. How far into the fast are you?”
“Five days,” I chuckled, and she smiled.
“Twenty-five more days to go. You think it’s going to be hard?”
“Eh,” I shrugged one shoulder. “Honestly, the sweets and the alcohol might be the hardest. I’m not an alcoholic, but I do like a strong drink after a long day.”
“Sex isn’t going to be hard?” she gave me a knowing look like she already knew the answer.
“Not really. Before the fast I hadn’t had sex in a little over two months anyway. Don’t know if anyone would consider that a long time.”
“Two months might be kind of long for a man. Women do that with ease.”
“Oh yeah?” I laughed. “The men just gotta be out here humping on everything moving, huh?”
“Pretty much. No self-restraint or control. Just loose and nasty.”
I shook my head. “I want to laugh, but I think you’re serious, and that’s not funny. I’m here to be an advocate for myself not all men. I can’t tell you about them I can only tell you about me, and I think the thirty day fast proves that I have both of those.”
“You shut me up. I love that for you. I admire it, honestly. So, the sex thing…” she trailed off, and I groaned. “No, I’m just asking. The last time you had sex who was it, if you don’t mind me asking. Like an ex, someone you’re casually dating, a one-night stand?”
“She’s someone that I met about a year ago. We went out on a few dates. She’s a beautiful woman. I can’t really say anything bad about her. It just didn’t work as far as being serious. She has a four- and five-year-old, and the father of her children is someone with nothing to lose while I have a lot.”
“Understood.” She gave a brief nod. “I say all the time I’m at a weird age. I have a grown child. I have friends and associates with grown kids. I have friends with grandkids. I have friends with no kids. I have friends with toddlers. It’s very weird. But I absolutely feel you on that because I refuse to date a man that has children under the age of thirteen. Hell no.”
“Yeah, I don’t mind women with kids, but the situation with their kids’ fathers can’t be one that will have me smiling in a mug shot. I used to be a crash out. The hardest thing in the world for me to do was to sit down and focus long enough to get through law school. There were times I wanted to give up. Not because it was hard but because I didn’t want to apply myself and live up to my fullest potential. Just dumb as hell and lazy. But I did it. And I’m not letting myself get tricked out of it.”
“I love that,” and I believed her because her smile was genuine.
“So, no kids under thirteen. My children are twenty-eight and twenty-four. What are the other criteria?”
“He can’t make less than me. I have two Airbnb’s, and I’m kind of like a self-care, lifestyle content creator. I’m not rich, but I made about $200,000 last year. That being said, I won’t date a man that makes significantly less than me. He can’t have roommates, or a bunch of people that ‘live with him,’”she used her fingers to make air quotes.
“I might’ve failed one,” I stated, and she gave me a ‘I know you fucking lying,’ look. “It’s going to sound like some bullshit.” Alise sat up straight in her seat and eyed me like playtime was over. “Damn you look ready to pounce.”
She picked up her glass of wine and took a large sip. “I’m listening.”
“I told you that I’ve been divorced for thirteen years, and I have. It’s been thirteen years since I slept with my ex-wife. We weren’t best friends, but we were cordial. A few months back, she had a stroke. She can’t live alone, and my daughter has stairs. My kids love their mom and the thought of her being in a home didn’t sit well with them. My daughter is looking for a house to buy, but we know the home buying process isn’t an easy one. Until she closes on a home, my ex-wife is with me. She’s downstairs in the guest room, and her mother, sister, and an in-home health aide rotate caring for her. I help out as well.”
Alise took another sip of wine while eyeing me over the rim of the glass. Even after she set the glass down, she didn’t respond right away. “That sounds really nice, and I really hope it’s true and that you aren’t lying and saying she’s your ex when she’s really your current wife.”
“I’m not even going to be offended,” I laughed “Because again, I know there are some cruddy niggas out here. But I’d never lie like that. I dead ass watch her every day. She can barely talk. She’s not the woman that I was married to years ago, and that shit hurts. I’d never lie on her. I have more respect for her and myself.”
“Well, that’s a very nice thing you did for her and your kids. My daughter isn’t by my ex-husband, so I’m not sure I’d do that for him. He might just have to go to a home. You doing that says a lot about who you are as a person.”
“So, that’s not a strike?”
