The Slow Drip

What is the “slow drip?” For those lacking in the ebonics department, don’t trip, I’m here to lace you. Slow drip, it is the act of someone slowly pulling away from engaging with you rather than communicating that the relationship you two had is over.

Slow drippers will text back, most times, typically with one word and/or an emoji. They flake out on get-together’s often and when y’all finally do hang out, its usually on some slow dripper selfish shit. They hit you back and followed through because of sex, boredom, or because you’re known to have an abundance of weed and their in a drought right now.

Slow drippers like to drip-drop because they are not quite sure how to face ending the “relationship” or because they want the option to return at their convenience. Sometimes you offer something that they aren’t ready to let go of whether that be the validation of having someone on their jock or something more tangible like funds or connections.

Think of slow dripping as pouring the last of the orange juice. As the slow drippee (the person being slow dripped), you are savoring the last bit of sweetness of OJ that ever so slightly slides out of the jug with a struggle, you want more, and you think that shaking the jug up and down violently (i.e. not letting go) will allow more to come out, but it never does. At least never enough to satiate you, but enough to keep you shaking the jug hoping for more. I’ve been on both ends of this phenomenon. I’m not certain either position is more gratifying than the other.

Recently I decided that my Rolodex of men was getting out of hand and somewhere along the line I had missed the opportunity to do the things that mattered to me as lustful encounters were taking the bulk of my time.

It wasn’t all sex. A good bit of it was laughs and arguments about today’s affairs, but all of it seemed to be a distraction, a pause on life. The men I was engaging with were guys I only felt comfortable creeping with at not quite on the corner bars, back seats of cars, and bedrooms in houses shared with roommates. We weren’t yolked, we weren’t compatible, we had simply found a way to pause living. We created tucked-in safe spaces that resembled adult wombs, we fetalized each other; encouraging each others delusions, whispering ‘love’ to each other knowing that it only existed within our toxic behavior filled and sex laden walls.

We were night walkers; abandoning each other before the sun shed, shielding our eyes from the light in shame. We were vampires, sucking life out of anyone who volunteered to join our proverbial darkness. Like Drake I wanted more life and decided to opt-out of this unhealthy routine.

You can’t get full on orange juice.

No matter how sweet and tantalizing it is, it will never replace real texture and volume. Context and depth. Something meaty (I’m a vegetarian, not referring to real meat) and heavy. Juice will temporarily quench, but I was starving.

Kay, I’m sure you get the drill by now; new journey.

I decided to make commitment number 36 on the basic bitch list of things to do: the vow of celibacy.

I fake tried it last time we talked, but this is different. They say when the student is ready the teacher will appear; I’m ready to learn. My turn-down-the-dick spirit couldn’t be stronger. My Achilles heel is covered by my new winter faux leather boots and I’m ready. This is how I know I am ready. I’ve let all of my dudes go. I did the slow drip. Well I tried to. I had a new boo that I started dealing with a couple months after my Louisiana lover dripped me dry (read prior story for details). The new boo was real nice. Stand up guy. Amazing sex. And he wanted something real with me. But of course my love life is never perfect, there wasn’t any chemistry for me. I was settling. So I grabbed my coward jeans, pulled them over my hips and began ignoring his calls with vigor. He wasn’t my juice anymore and I was too weak to tell him to his doe eyes that he could never really be my main squeeze.

I hoped that he would yell at me for dodging him, ask me a million annoying questions so that I could get real irritated and have an excuse to spazz on him. But he did not allow me to self-sabotage. He remained cool, gracefully wishing me good mornings and good nights, sending me voice messages, and reassuring me that my seat in his life is stay warm for whenever I wanted to regain my spot. He didn’t give me the permission I wanted to feel wronged. I knew then that he deserved more than what many men had offered me. I didn’t have the savage in my heart to drip him away so I hit him back. I apologized for my shifty behavior and advised him that I had a path to travel that does not include him, and that I was much obliged for his sweetness, but we had to end. I was clinching my thighs tight as I put the words together, the discomfort of it all was killing me, the confrontation of his response was looming ahead, and I was internally freaking out as I waited for it. He responded as any gentlemen would, said that he understood and that like Solange, I would always have a seat at the table if I decided to return. He reverberated my ‘thank-you,’ and expressed his appreciation for everything that I have taught him, and ended with wishing me well.

It was then that I knew I had crossed paths with a real one. This was the first time I ended a ‘relationship’ with honesty and not with strife or a drippation and it felt good. I also immediately felt my frustration of being slow dripped in the past, turn into sympathy, realizing that most niggas couldn’t stomach this moment of telling the women they dodged that the pussy wasn’t enough to maintain them and it was time to split. As well as vice versa for women. Most folks run from the awkwardness of breaking a heart, after the pussy juice and semen runs dry, soon does the haze, and the glory, and the mature conversations.

Ending anything is difficult for someone who isn’t accustomed to dealing with shit head on. This is why folks don’t put in their two weeks notices at work or don’t setup bill payment plans, its easier to just walk away without responsibility than to deal with what you’ve created. I also then came to the conclusion that it is not savage to leave someone hanging, but the real savage is the one who could tell me straight to my face that it is over. This is a display of extraordinary honesty and this sort of character should be exalted. I saw this as a transferable skill, an indicator that this person doesn’t let fear, ego, selfishness or laziness get in the way of doing what is right. I wanted this badge of honor. I patted myself on the back and vowed to continue showing great character.

Some nights later, my Louisiana lover decided to apologize for the way things ended between us. My nigga-senses were tingling and I sensed that he didn’t know what he had until it was gone and now was feeling survivors remorse once he realized the streets weren’t providing anything fuller than what I did. One night I was in a rare mood where I felt like blowing herb and watching a good movie with a guest. I invited him over for an honest Netflix and Chill meaning no pussy. He didn’t get that memo and half way through the movie began following the predictable I’m-trying-to-fuck template by fake bumping into my thighs and trying to fake cuddle because it was supposedly cold. His obviousness was unattractive. I politely declined his advances and redirected his attention back to the film. I guess he thought I was playing hard to get because he then tried to grab my pussy on some Trump shit. Fellas, this sort of boldness only works when the woman is digging you otherwise it just looks creepy. I pushed him away.

“Bruh, you know I don’t rock with you in that way. I invited you over for vibes.” My honesty now was much easier to release being that he had crossed all of my boundaries.

“So, you tryna say you don’t miss me? You didn’t have any real feelings for me?” He pauses and makes a sad attempt to look seductive. “You don’t want me to eat it? I want eat it real good. You look like you need it ate real good.” This is exactly what he said, I promise. I couldn’t believe I had ever opened my legs for him, yo, I almost vomited in my mouth. Its amazing what time and self-reflection can do. He had hardcore curved me and now he thought I was was supposed to oblige his sexual desires because he felt like entertaining me again. Listen, once I’m done with you, I’m done with you, so when you walk away from me, you better be sure. I genuinely invited the kid over on some platonic shit and now I was high, irritated, and ready for him to go home.

“Aye, do you want to finish the movie? I’m tired so if you’re not trying to watch the movie I can cut it off and get some sleep.” That was my way of subtly asking him to get the fuck out. Subtly.

“Forreal? Man, lets watch the movie then.” He turned toward the screen.

“That’s what I was doing before you started being extra.” I huffed.

When the movie ended he decided to go in for a kiss. He obviously thought I was playing hard to get and didn’t realize that women like me don’t play those kind of games when it comes to sex. If I deny you the cat, its just that: a hard no.

I looked at him squarely and put on my Mary Jane Paul Voice (Being Mary Jane reference), “Alright, maybe I wasn’t clear, and my apologies if I wasn’t, but I’m not interested in you, I wanted to be friendly because I thought you’d enjoy some company as well as I, but it is clear you cannot respect boundaries so consider this the last time you’ll be hearing from me.” I walked him to the door in awe at how dope I was, not just because I was able to have the final curve on some petty shit, but because I was able to be honest about where I stand without awkwardly laughing my way through or reverting to avoidance. I was honest in a way that he couldn’t be (refer to last blog post, click here). In the way that many niggas that I’ve written about on this blog couldn’t be. I didn’t get bitter and decide to be like them, instead I decided to get better and learn from them. My version of savage isn’t being an asshole, its being real. Its making necessary changes when its hard to. Its opting out of slow drips and deciding to throw the whole jug away when its empty.

If you got someone hanging on, go ahead and let them know its over. Cheers to growing up.

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