If I was a female I would be my buddy “Anitra.”
We are both Geminis and free spirits who can talk nonstop about the latest trends, new events and politics.
A divorced mother of a teenager she is the only woman I know who goes online to meet and hook up with men. Her ex husband was Nigerian and treated her wrong so now she deals with white men exclusively, and believe me she pulls them.
She is an ample black Venus, with wide hips, bountiful cleavage, dimples and delicious-looking lips that always seemed to be smiling mischievously.
I have known Anitra for almost 20 years – we used to work together and I still do freelance gigs for her. She knew me way back when I was married. In fact I have to admit I confided in her alot and felt closer to her than my ex-wife.
But in all this time, despite the fact we talk and text every week I have never told her I am now into men.
Last Saturday she visited out of the blue to see some renovation work I am doing on the house. “Van” lives with me now so he opened the door because I was taking a nap.
I have hung out with Anitra and Van before but always just introduced him as my friend. We would have fun and she never questioned our relationship further.
On Saturday we stood in the kitchen gabbing. Then we finished a bottle of white wine I had in the fridge.
Van went away to another room but I invited him to join us and we busted open a bottle of red wine and polished that off.
“Shit it’s the holidays let’s have fun,” I said.
Anitra loves weed and buys it from a guy I know in Baltimore named “Izzy,” who is also gay but hood as shit. She had texted him and he dropped by to sell her a bag.
“Shit let’s light up,” I said. “Izzy can I buy a joint from you?”
Izzy ran back to his car and got a joint. And we all smoked and drank wine and GOT. FUCKED. UP. I swear I was so high the world looked slanted.
Then we got the munchies and attacked my snack food.
Eventually Anitra had to leave. She was getting her hair braided the next day and had to take out the old braids, a time-consuming task that would be more difficult now that she was high.
We walked to the front door.
“Say goodbye to your friend for me,” Anitra said.
Maybe it was the wine or the weed. My head was swimming so I blurted out without thinking, “You will see a lot of him.”
Anitra looked me deep in the eyes with a look as mischievous as her grin.
“Are y’all lovers?”
Pause.
“Yes.”
“I thought so. Van is so cute. I tried to flirt with him myself.”
Anitra and I talk about everything from prose and poetry to the proper way to eat pussy.
But I was afraid to confess my sexuality to her because I knew she attended a conservative Baptist congregation where gayness was considered a sin.
I didn’t want to to lose one of my best friends, not to mention a source of additional income from freelance work. So I had been a coward, staying silent about my love life while she prattled on about hers.
Now I realized I worried over nothing.
She pulled me close and gave me a big hug.
“I don’t care what you are. I love you. Live your life boy.”
“Besides I have thought you were gay for seven years now.”
Wow, that was around the time I separated from my wife.
Later I talked to Van who had overheard parts of the conversation.
“See,” he said. “People who think they are down-low and fooling people about not being gay really aren’t fooling anybody.”
I have to admit he is right.
