I have often told of how a 1st time experience for me is usually an extreme experience for me. Well, this time is no different when after 38 years of age, for the 1st time ever, I experienced a White man directing at me in a derogatory fashion, the word ---- "nigga".
There are a few things that makes this story become worst, hence the aforementioned extremities. Such as the fact that this person was a fuck-buddy who I've written about here lately. The Jackson Heights, Queens resident to be exact. Another thing that makes it worst is that this guy is a schoolteacher, so if it's not scary already, it will be after you learn how this came about, then realize that this person is molding young minds with those young minds calling him, Mr. Sparling. If I wanted to be real bitchy, the UNcropped version of those pics from Folsom Street East might not sit well with the NYC Board of Education.
The way this situation unraveled was after I invited him to the Wednesday night indoor pool party, Drip at the Grace Hotel. We get there, and he's sits there like a lump on a log. Not looking to be the least bit social. He even dogged the event saying that it's nothing but a bunch of people standing around drinking, and that it's not what he expected. My thought is that it's a pool party, what the hell was he expecting. He shouldn't have been expecting it to be like a bathhouse, because I already told him that the party doesn't go that way.
DRIP is somewhere I would seldom go alone. I felt since I had someone with me, cool. Especially someone I wanted to get to know. Maybe I'm a rare breed that likes to get to know his fuck-buddies. Plus, I don't really care to have an entourage when I go out. Since he wasn't having fun, I took the initiative of suggesting other places. To those, he never responded. So after sitting there, and sitting there, and sitting there, I had enough and confronted him by asking, "Did I waste my time inviting you out here?"
He seemed shocked to be asked. And more shocked when he realized I was upset by his anti-social behavior, claiming he was being nice by sticking around. I asked him how is he being nice by sitting there lifeless. When he's called on his shit, NOW, he decides to leave. He tries walking away from me as I'm explaining my feelings on the matter. He tries shutting me up since he didn't want attention drawn to himself for being called on his infantile behavior, and since I talk with my hands, he tries putting them down, and I told him, "Don't touch me!"
We left, and went outside. He started accusing me of throwing a hissy fit like a 12 year-old, YET he's the one putting his hand over his ears and making noises to drown me out. I'm trying to talk out a situation that I have every right to be annoyed over, and I'm being told to "Shut up".
He accused me of treating him like he's my boyfriend, which is not true. I treated him as I treat anybody else when I invite them somewhere that I've been before - I watch over them to make sure they don't get in any bad situations since I already know the good and shady ways of people at that event. Even if that event is a sex party, it may seem unorthodox, but I stick to that credo of looking out for those I invite to come along.
After being told to "shut up", and feeling that his overblown sexual ego made him believe I was doing anything but look out for him, there is no doubt I was most likely going to raise my voice. Because, I am a grown man. And while I've made many mistakes and had many misfortunes in my life, my being dumb enough to be his spouse or unfortunate to be his child do not fall in the categories of my mistakes and misfortunes. Therefore, tolerating being told to "shut up" is not going to happen, so raising one's voice to defend oneself is a very likely response of any self-respecting individual. But to him, my being loud in the middle of the street after being offended by him is a sign of "ghetto" behavior, when the fact of the matter is that anyone of any color could react the way to his behavior of trying to tell an adult to "shut up" by raising their voice in return.
So as we near the corner of 45th Street and 6th Avenue, he says to me, "You know, you're being real ghetto nigger right now".
To show how color made no difference to the tales of my sexual escapades, in recent blog posts (including those about him), I neglected to mention the fact of the guys' race. In this case ---- this guy is White.
Now, I'm sure that makes his words to me take on a whole new meaning. You have seen me use that "n-word" here, and my hope is that for any Black person doing the wrong that provokes my using that word in a derogatory fashion reads it and becomes motivated to get their shit together. For any White person to use it however in 2009, says that you see me as a Black person before seeing me as a person PERIOD. Clearly, he even during our trysts, he saw my color, before he saw ME. That thought only added to my rage.
When he first said it, I looked at him, and said, "Excuse me?"
He then repeated it, and started lecturing me about my behavior.
My good and bad side were in debate at this point.
The angel on my left should saying with it's Pollyanna-tone, "Turn the other cheek".
While the devil on the right said, "Let's see, do we smack him, or punch the shit out of him?"
First, the devil took his pitchfork, poked the angel off of my left shoulder, and said, "Beat it, bitch!".
Now with the angel gone, there was no conflict between my good and evil sides. I was now all evil. Which spells "danger" because my evil side is dangerously conniving.
During his lecture, I made sure I looked him right in the eye while he spoke. Because holding his gaze was going to make whatever way I retaliated a total surprise. Thinking to myself of how he really thinks I'm going to let him get away with saying "nigger" to me without the slightest bit of repercussion. In the words of Bugs Bunny, "He don't know me very well, do he?"
I always knew my temper could get to this point. The point where one's ego is so overblown that they would talk, talk, and talk, and I was going to cut that speech short with one verbal and/or physical blow.
Tonight was that night.
I don't even recall the words he was saying, but to even my own surprise, my hand just flew up and ----
----right across his face. His already light eyes lit up like beams from the shock. Out of the blindness from rage, I didn't feel it before, but now in hindsight, I remember feeling the contour of his face's bone structure under my hand. In fact as I'm writing this, I am feeling every curve and every gap on the right side of his face in my hand.
I yelled, "THAT'S IT!!! I'M DONE!!!!", then I walked away crossing to the other side of 45th Street, then proceeding to walk down 6th Avenue. After at least a minute later, he then comes running behind me.
What happened next and my further analysis of him is what you'll have to tune in tomorrow for.