I'm tired of black men...but then again I'm not

Day 2... First initial conversation

Our parents took us everywhere together. They even put us in the same schools and clothes. I know, ridiculous, right? We were inseparable and still are till this day.

So it's no surprise that we are now roommates, which I wouldn't have any other way. I love her more than words could express, and we just have this understanding between each other, no one else gets.

Growing up, she was always the trouble maker, getting into everything while I was the goody-two-shoes. I always had my nose constantly in some book, taking on the life and adventure of some crazy character.

We were night and day, which made us work well together. I was the yin to her yang and vice versa.

It came to no surprise when she lost her virginity before me at the age of 15 during our freshman year in high school. But it's not like I blame her, she is beautiful in every way, and every man wants her. With her radiant light brown skin, thick curly hair, big exotic lips, and curves in all the right places. She isn't a petite little thing, but she isn't huge either. Just the right size for black men to gravel at her feet.

Sometimes I envied the way men flock to her. It seems like she has no problem getting men, unlike me. She also doesn't mind having sex with them either. She is very promiscuous and has no shame in it, and since she doesn't, neither do I.

Even though she's promiscuous, she takes care of business and makes sure men respect her, so I can't be mad at her. She's good with them. She can get almost anything she wants from them, and I, on the other hand, is still trying to figure that shit out.

Don't get me wrong now; I have no problem getting a man. Actually, I have a few of my own. But I demand more from them, unlike her. She can care less about them as long as she gets what she wants from them.

Shit, that's my girl, Ty. I respect her for being who she is and being comfortable in her skin.

I go to the fridge and grab the pineapple juice and pour myself a glass. You know what people say about pineapples. I'm not sure how true it is, but all I know is I like it.

As my day carries along, I have gone shopping online and paid some of my smaller bills before I head to work.

I love shopping. It doesn't matter if it's online or off. I love fashion and putting pieces of clothing together.

Why am I not a fashion stylist? I have no idea.

I missed that bus years ago, but I still think about pursuing it some days, but I just don't know where to begin. So I push that dream to the back of my head along with the rest of them.

For now, I'm comfortable with my permanent job and side hustle. I write short stories on the side and publish them, which is a tremendous lucrative side hustle. People love my stories, and I love that they love them.

I publish them on this publishing app called WritersPad, and it is one of my favorite things to do when I'm not hosting at The Vig.

I know you are wondering by now why is a 30-year-old woman hosting at a restaurant and not doing something more with her life. Well, I hate the corporate life. I hate the political part of it all. Just not for me.

So, I like my two little gigs for now. They are both flexible, decent incomes, and I love what I do and wouldn't have it any other way.

Especially being a woman that has excelled in the corporate world before. I've worked for fortune five hundred companies and have worked my way up the ladder until I realized... that shit wasn't for me. I was miserable. So I figured a way out and decided to take a lighter approach until I can figure out what I really want to do, and that's what I'm doing right now, trying to figure it out.