Gina Thompson: Sneak Peek

Shittin’ Is A Privilege

People take shittin’ for granted until they’re constipated and that shit starts to

hurt. It could be shit from your past, shit from your present, a bunch of shit causing us pain that we didn’t ask for. We go through life with the expectation that we’ll be able to sit our asses on that toilet to release. Until we have to lift our knees to our chest and push like we are in the delivery room waiting to see a bundle of joy. It’s actually the opposite. All we are left with is the sweat from shit being stuck and the consistent reminder of being full of shit. So is life. Shittin’ means elevation, it means being able to let go of the shit that had you bound. The shit that kept hurting, although you were trying to let it go. Girl, let that shit go so you can get up off that toilet (being complacent). Stand up and wipe yourself clean. Nobody likes someone who is full of shit, so your best bet is to let it out.

Girl, Don’t Trip

(I got you)

Gina Thompson

Bang. Bang. Bang.

“Who is at my door acting like they don’t have any common sense?” I asked myself aloud, closing my laptop and making my way downstairs to the front door.

“I have a doorbell, for God's sake!” I yelled to whoever it was. They were going to mess around and find out.

“Why the fuck are you banging on my door like that?” I snatched the door open, ready for war.

“I miss you, that's why.”

I looked Darren up and down, appreciating the view of this fine specimen. He favored Zach from the show Sistas and had a mouthwatering body like him, too. Darren’s plaid blue and white trench coat did nothing to cover his protruding biceps. This weather didn’t call for a coat or the Timbs he had on with no pants. He didn’t even have a shirt on, from the looks of his exposed chest. I looked around outside my house to see if this was a prank or something.

“What are you doing here?”

“I assumed your phone was broken, so I came to see what’s up.” Darren eyed my body like I belonged to him.

“That’s not how it works, Darren. You can’t be showing up to my house unexpectedly and banging on my door like you’re the damn police.”

“I asked you to be my girl, and then you go MIA like I’m not owed an explanation. I really am feeling you, Gina. What’s the problem?”

“The problem is you standing on my front porch in the middle of August with a trench coat and Timbs like this shit is normal. You on that shit or something?”

“Look at me. Does it look like I’m on something? I’m in the best shape of my life. I’m in

my prime, baby, and any woman would love to be on my arm.”

Darren wasn’t lying.

Everything about Darren was perfect until it was time for him to stroke the pussy with his micropenis. How a Black man didn’t have rhythm, length or width will forever be a mystery to me. I gave him every opportunity to prove himself, and he wasted each one.

I guess him being blocked didn’t matter one bit. That’s what I get for being nice to Mr. Can't Get Right.

“Then why are you on my doorstep?”

“To show you what you’ve been missing.”

You would think we dated for years the way he was acting. We literally had sex three times. I gave him three chances: one for the Father, one for the Son, and one for the Holy Spirit. What it taught me was that success doesn’t always mean good dick. My big dick energy radar was off, and I don’t like it.

Darren started unbuttoning his trench coat.

“That’s not necessary. I already know, trust me. That’s why you are out here and not here,” I said, pointing to my sweet, my nasty, my gushy stuff.

Once all the buttons from Darren's trench were undone, it dropped to the floor.

“Oh my God, boy, what are you doing? My neighbors are going to call the cops on you.”

“This dick can be all yours, but you're playing?”

Darren was butt booty balled naked with only his Timbs on, stroking his shaft like he was watching porn. His big hands were bigger than the baby worm he was fondling. He had me fooled with his charm, we laughed and he was a joy to be around. He actually treated me real good until I told him what the problem was. I know I struck a nerve, but being in a relationship with Darren meant I would only cheat for sex, without a question.

“I don’t want it. Goodbye, Darren.”

“What the fuck you mean you don’t want it? Get on your knees and suck this dick like the king I am.”

“See, now you about to make me hurt your feelings. You better go ahead.”

“Hurt my feelings? I’m a self-made millionaire, baby. I got a big dick and I’m a pretty ass nigga. This won’t be my last nut and you won’t be my last piece of pussy.”

“So, what is all of this for?” I looked on, confused at Darren stroking his Brown N Serve

sausage link in broad daylight like indecent exposure wasn’t a thing. My nosey ass neighbors

would have a field day with this shit.

“I came here to pour my heart out to you. I was really feeling you. That fat pussy gonna miss me, I know it. Don’t worry, I’m about to leave you with this last nut. Where should I leave it?”

Darren's hand strokes became more calculated after he added the right amount of spit. I

couldn’t believe this was happening. This man didn’t care that he was embarrassing himself and going out real bad. If only his sex lined up with how he looked, he would be the total package. Sweat was dripping from his perfectly sculpted body as he edged to the point of ecstasy. If he wanted to be out here acting stupid, that was him. I was not about to let him get any more satisfaction out of me looking at him.

“Come here, I’m about to cum.”

“Boy, if you don’t get out of here.”

“Bitch, come here.”

I kicked him so hard that he fell down the steps. Dick in hand and nut flying out all at the same time. I picked up his coat and threw it down there with him.

“The next time I won’t be so nice. With all the money and muscles in the world, your stroke game is in the basement. Use some of the money to buy you some rhythm, White boy. You come back around here again and I ain’t calling the cops, I’m shooting your ass. Now go give somebody else that weak-ass pipe.”

SLAM!

“Hey you, what are you doing out here like that? I’m calling the police.” My neighbor

finally caught wind of the foolery.

I closed the door on that weird shit. I should have thrown his ass in the garbage. Everything about him is trash. I should have smelt that shit the moment he opened his mouth. Darren wasn’t my first stalker and probably wouldn’t be my last. This wasn’t about to ruin my day, I had shit to do.

We All Have Some Shit

“To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“I came to see Mom.”

“Serita not here.”

“Please move. Her car is right there, and I saw her as I was pulling up.”

“I told you to stop coming over here unannounced. Next time I won’t be so nice.”

“Old man, if you don’t move. Ain’t nobody scared of you no more.”

“General, let the poor girl in and stop with all that foolishness.” Finally, my mother spoke up and saved this from getting really ugly.

Years prior, that would have gotten her eye black from the drunken blows of my father. She never had a voice, she was only supposed to speak when spoken to. I begged her to move out with me when I got older, but she took her vows seriously. The type of hold General Gary had on her, I never want to experience. I couldn’t understand it, and it made me view her as weak. I loved her enough to want her out of it, whole and aware of how great she truly was.

“You need to go sit your ass down. As a matter of fact, shouldn’t you be making my lunch?”

“I came to take Mom out for lunch. You're welcome to come if you like.”

That was a lie. I didn’t need him telling Mom she couldn’t go.

“Now you know better. The only way she’s going is if you stop at the liquor store and get

me a few bottles of Uncle Nearest.”

“Oh, so you're not asking for one bottle? You threw some interest in there.” My jaw clenched, and I ground my teeth.

“You're only taking her out to talk shit about me, so that’s the least you could do.” The

General’s intense, fevered stare told me all I needed to know.

I looked toward Mom, who resembled Misa Hylton. Not a word was spoken; she stayed on mute.

“I’m taking her to lunch and the spa, and you’ll have your Uncle Nearest.”

“You better have her back in time to make my dinner, and I mean it.” Without a care in the world, mean ass General Gary Thompson sat back in his recliner.

“Come on, Mom.”

He makes me so sick.

At one point in my life, I loved this man, until I started to realize his broken promises were the bane of my existence. Those cataclysmic nights still show up in my dreams as if they

happened yesterday. As a little girl, it was hard to accept that your father was a maniac.

“I’ll meet you in the car, GG.”

“Nope. I know how this goes. You are not about to talk yourself out of enjoying a day of

pampering. Let’s go.”

“Who’s the child and who’s the parent?” The General chuckled.

“I’ll be back soon, honey. Let me know if you need anything while I’m out.” Mom grabbed her pocketbook, kissed The General's ring, and we walked out.

Instead of showing love and affection by kissing the lips of her husband, Serita Thompson

was forced to bow down. I thought it was normal for all married people. Mom had always done it. Then I noticed the discomfiture stares of others as I got older. It made me want to hide the fact that I had a father. I was dying to be the product of a single-parent household.

“Why do you even subject yourself to that, Mom?”

I didn’t even wait for her car door to shut before I started my shit.

“If we are going to do this, I might as well stay in the house,” Mom gritted her teeth and

pressed her lips tight.

“Wow. You’d rather stay in the house with a psychopath than to enjoy some pampering.

That makes a lot of sense.”

“Don’t talk about your father like that. He can’t help it.”

I pulled off, but a part of me wanted to leave her ass there.

“Where was this same energy when The General was in there talking crazy to me?”

“You can handle yourself.”

“And so can that grown ass man child you’ve been taking care of since you were seventeen.

You’re not tired yet?”

“God has graced me for this. I was born to be a helpmate to my husband. For better or for worse. If you kept a man, you would understand that.”

Oh, no, the fuck she didn’t.

“You're kidding, right?” I had to ask before I blew up. I gave Mom a chance to take that shit back.

“GG, I didn’t mean it like that.” Mom finally looked my way. Her eyes appeared damp and overly bright.

“You meant it how you said it, and for a minute you sounded just like the general. Don’t

worry about my love life or lack thereof. I’m working on myself. Something you need to start

doing more of. A man doesn’t define me.”

“You think you're better than me?” Mom said, adopting a challenging tone.

“I never said that. I got shit with me, just like the next person. All I’m saying is I remember you having dreams, hopes, and aspirations. Whatever happened to that version of you, Mom?

The one who wanted to be an Author one day. Do you even still write, or did he take that away from you, too?”

“The general took my notebooks, pens, and pencils away after he read a passage I wrote

about him.”

“Please don’t tell me shit like that if you don’t want me to do something about it.”

“You asked. That didn’t mean you were going to like the answer. Stop always trying to fix everybody else and worry about yourself. I didn’t ask for your help.”

“Nor did I ask for your advice. Listen, I want this to be a great day, but you’re blowing my shit already.” My eyes met my eyelids.

“The General is off limits. If you want us to enjoy our time together, change the subject.”

“You know what, you;re right. Thanks for reminding me that I could only love you to your capacity. The General doesn’t give you enough room to include anyone else but himself. I’m done, moving right along.” The heat started rising from my body.

The rest of the drive to brunch at Casa De Flora in Bloomfield, NJ was spent listening to

music and our own thoughts. There was so much I wanted to say, but I knew it would cost me

more in the long run. I remember times where my mom would go radio silent on me due to me pushing her to leave The General. I couldn’t have that happen again, so I followed her request.

“You think we’re going to have enough time to eat and go to the spa?” Mom asked,

concerned.

I parked the car and couldn’t wait to take full advantage of the unlimited mimosas.

“I’ll be sure to have you back to your massa in time.”

“You know what? Take me home.”

“Wait. What? We just got here.”

“I told you to keep your little comments to yourself. You don’t have to keep throwing it in my face that you view me as weak. I get it, Gina. If you don’t respect my boundaries, then you can leave me where I’m at.”

“Are you serious right now?”

“I’m as serious as you wanting me to leave The General. Take me home now.”

Mom put back on her seatbelt and stared straight ahead.

“Ain’t this ‘bout a bitch.”

I started my car again and traveled back the way I came.