Author Archive: Relentless

Easy Like A Relentless Sunday Morning…

My Sunday morning is interesting: it starts with waking up to make a $40 fish fry order. Except, before I jump up from bed to wash my hands, to pour pre-packaged fish and fries into an air fryer and then waiting 20 minutes for the grand result, I spend a few moments looking at a some inspirational messages on IG. And then, as usual, on the same timeline will be all the booty-shakin; you know, those nuisance escorts sellin ass on IG. Hey, I’m not mad at em tho... I still enjoy a little stripper action inside of my SoMe-time. (Social Media Time).

Eventually I’m up from my rest, and while Seal is singin“we’re never gonna survive, uuuuuuun-less, we get a little crazy

on the living room TV, I’m hitting a few buttons on the air fryer and then turning on the kettle. Nothing like some hot tea to cure this mucus I. My throat; The results of my love for milk, ice cream, and chocolate chip cookies the night before. {shrugs} hey, some people prefer weed and/or football. For the moment I’m a milk & cookies kinda guy.

When the delivery guy soon arrives and he’s quite transparent, first explaining “how impressive” my environment is. I hear him say “the mind is a terrible thing to waste”. I stop what I’m doing for a moment and come over to let him know I can’t hear him as I am in the kitchen dishing up the food. He says “no worries I was just taking in your experience here. You really doin it bro.” 

Now the fish and fries are done and I’m packaging everything up with tartar sauce and ketchup and the pecan pie’s and the spinach. Driver says “oh my God I gotta read this”.

And when I asked him what he was referring to, he pointed to his cell phone where my latest blog talks about my erotic experiences and how STARBUCKS was somewhat responsible for them. I’m chuckling when I finally hand him the package. And just before he leaves he says with a handshake “my name is Allonzo but everybody knows me as Miami and you have inspired me today.”

I thank him, ask him to drive carefully out there in them streets, and explained “don’t worry I’ll be out there in a few

And ain’t that the damn truth as I take off the kitchen apron, sip on this tea, soak in some of this Simply Red... and as he’s “holding back the tears” I’m contemplating my morning and how I’m about to head out the door to drop off and pick up Bird scooters for that extra hunnit dollas today. After all, I wasn’t expecting those extra bills such as the dentist... such as the shopping I did yesterday... and maybe one other bill I’ve forgotten. 

The hustle continues

#GoneFishin

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It’s The Real Deal…

media producer content creator, atlanta filmmaker, novelist

Here’s the truth... in life you can simply exist as an attendee or you can be a player on the field. If you’re going to be an attendee, then perhaps you are doing whatever is necessary to get by in order to maintenance you’re presence. However, if you are here to be a player on the field, to make any certain headway in your area of expertise, you are required to express who you are, what you do and perhaps the service you provide.

You are required to engage with as many people as possible who are qualified or interested in taking advantage of your resources.  

Your “calling” means perhaps teaching others, helping others and engaging in authentic ways so that there is relevant and residual benefits behind what it is you do, and who it is that you are. Afterall, the world is curious and wants to know: what are you here for?

Some of us are exercising the easy way out, looking for the hacks in life and earning their space in the slushpile of products, services and initiatives. Meanwhile there are others of us who have there unique presence in our lives. They may be doctors and nurses, or pilots or train conductors; and in those cases, especially, there is no choice but to work with extreme precision. But then you may be an artist, beautician, fashion designer, builder, or you could be endowed with some sort physical power or incredible “talk-game.”

Whatever the case, the requirement (for everyone) should include being the best at what you do, or at least doing the best you can at it. Your level of “best“ is subjective to how big your challenger is.

If you live in a small town and you are the only barber or shoemaker in that small town, then you are the big fish in a small pond. However if what you do is so casual and so ordinary and so usually that many people are doing the same thing and you are all squeezed into some tiny island or some metropolis, then you clearly have competition and you must clearly work so much harder to earn what we know as a top spot in your industry.

So if you’re comfortable with what you do and so talented that you feel you have no competition, then you have been blessed. But for so many more of us, whether you are a novelist (such as I am) a chef, or a livery cab driver, there stands to bear that next individual who does the same work as you. The competition. Whether or not you land that next customer, versus your competition landing that customer, is going to depend upon whether or not you are better or more effective or have a greater energy.

I feel in order for you to succeed at what you do, you have got to be the real deal. You have got to do more than expected. You must have made inroads in your industry where by everybody is talking about you. There's a process to it all. "The work" must be done in effort to win substantially; in effort to sustain what gains you've earned.

These are the voyages of the Superpreneur... we'll speak again. Godspeed.

Good luck. And may The Force be with you!

Dozens of New Apps for Mac, all for $10 Per Month. Productivity

I’m the first one to want to save money. All these services that are wanting to live off of my existence, ready to cut me off if I miss my next payment. But this one I couldn’t pass up… check out the videos below if you’re looking to fine-tune (or tune-up) your mac experience

 

Relentless Aaron “Unparalleled” – Library Journal

Relentless Aaron. Single with Benefits

– Library Journal, 6/26/2008 10:03:00 AM
Relentless Aaron. Single with Benefits. Griffin: St. Martin’s. Nov. 2008. 288p. ISBN 978-0-312-35937-9. pap. $14.95 F
Verdict: For an incisive look at a man’s inner thoughts and feelings as he juggles multiple sexual encounters, look no further than Relentless Aaron’s (Extra Marital Affairs) new novel. In capturing the emotions of pure sexual release and introspective debates on being true to women, this author is unparalleled. As a bonus, the sexual scenes are a matchless combination of sensuality and naughtiness.
Background: Shawn Hopkins, a 19 year old intent on achieving success, has fallen hard for Venus, who flaunts a Caribbean woman’s sensual attitude. Although vexed, Shawn reluctantly agrees to share space with Allison, a girlfriend of Venus who needs time away from her man. But temptation soon arises, and Shawn enters not one, two, or three, but five sexual relationships, as well as enjoying a threesome with Venus and Allison and mixing work with pleasure by sleeping with his boss, a wealthy client, and a wealthy client’s administrative assistant. As he becomes financially successful, Shawn ponders to which woman he wants to commit forever but fails to notice the warning signs of romantic disaster. The morality lesson here: being played can dampen the pleasures of the bedroom.
Also coming in late October: SEEMS LIKE YOU’RE READY

More from Relentless Aaron’

When it comes to Life-Changing Information, This is where it began for me…

And so it was simply important to share the information with you in this well put together booklet

10 Books That Changed My Life Forever.

I know I won't be here forever. But I'm hoping in the randomness of my life that there are jewels. But also know that those jewels started somewhere. Please enjoy this document, share it and spread the wisdom.

We’re Still Twisted Over Cosby, OJ, Trump & Kanye. Me? I’m Kissing It Goodbye!

FAMILY, we have truly gone mad.

We will FIGHT ONE ANOTHER over someone else's hot mess, as if it's our own. It doesn't matter if they're innocent, guilty or if they were even in the state where the crime was committed. It seems we simply need something to argue about, to debate or to fight over.

This one is a rapist and because some of us take that buzzword
"rape" so personally, anyone who does not agree with us is our enemy. "This other one killed somebody, and there was a smoking gun. It was reported on the news": and since we find things in common with the victim and we are offended by the alleged killer, we immediately take sides. We become zealots. And anyone who disagrees with us is our enemy.

It seems that there is no safe place or safe zone where we can all agree. Even religion has its pros and cons; it's loves and hates. And let me not expound and go into politics!"

There comes a time when I just personally need to shutdown all of your voices, and I'll go to my little hole in the world where I'm most comfortable, and I'll write my fiction. Another way I release and disappear is to bury myself in my work; that is, the work I do for others. And of course there's always lovemaking or sex that can erase all else. And that's a vacation I like to take often!

I'm telling you that we are in afflicted people; guided by the 6 o'clock news, which is guided by the police, the same one's who are guided by, well, the news! And the news is now guided by the White House!

And err, isn't it "the news" and media organizations the collective that falsely reported the election results? And we're still following them? Still repeating what they promote?

If that is not the most twisted shit of this generation I don't know what is worse. I will say once and for all that I love you if you are connected to me. And the majority of you came to my doorstep to connect with me; I didn't come for you. My writing and my energy attracted you.  

You've watched me evolve, cope with challenges, brave the weather called life, and there's a few of you who have been generous and philanthropic. It didn't matter what my initiative was, you invested in me, and so It's important that I give back everyday. Its my own sense of responsibility.

And so to that end I'm grateful and humbled that you even found me interesting enough to hangout with, online or off. And quite frankly you know me more than you know any of these other people you argue about.

That said, while I maintain my own fight to find Olivia Pope, I am going to do my damnedest to stay positive and stay inspiring and stay progressive while sharing the jewels that I've learned and earned over the decades.

Peace and love and progress. Relentless.

Common Sense is Not Common #1

So here’s the thing: I’m one person. I’m not Superman and I’m not everywhere in the world. But from my one space that I occupy I hope that I can import some common sense… Some common, damned, since… That can help you live a little better, hope you laugh a little more, and even perhaps save a life here and there. You’ve heard this before so let’s make it a Hashtag #Commonsenseisnotcommon God bless you. Like comment and share

 

This dude decided he wanted to "Know The Ledge." And for Gods Sake he knows it better now than ever. We hope he lived thru this. On a side note, was that a WHALE that flopped thru and maybe took a chunk of that cliff out so that it WOULD break off? Just my conspiracy theory. We'll never know!

#knowtheledge

#ericbandrakim

I Couldn’t Shed A Tear

book publisher, novelist, author, filmmaker, web designer podcasts

Today my father died, my daughter attempted suicide, and my sister might be hiding some kind of terminal health issue. All of this I learned about in a 2 hour phone conversation and I couldn’t shed a tear...

What can I say? I must be evil. The Universe must revolve around me to the degree that I’m held responsible for everyone who was born before me (those responsible for my existence,) and everyone who I sired and brought into the world, (yes, my kids) no matter how insane, skitzo or disrespectful they’ve been. No matter their poor choices, their inability to cooperate and behave... no matter what the people do around me, no matter how hateful or vulgar or shameful, I’m supposed to agree with it and love them anyway. I’m the victim and the victimizer; some kind of punching bag where everyone gets exercise but also feels okay with swinging and being abusive, and I’m the bad guy. Their possum or the scapegoat of all their failures.

DeWitt calls me, or we speak a few times per month. He is one of 4 children I've sired and who i've worked to maintain a father-son relationship with.

And yup; I’m the so-called celebrity in my entire clan; the man with all the fucking answers and global acknowledgements, and yet I’m the one they spit and shit on. I’m the one they make assumptions about, the one they keep a certain distance from and the one who is arguably the urban legend. Apparently I’m rich and famous, with contacts that stretch from Barbados to Canada; from the White House to Oprah’s house... and there’s that lil hookup; 1 degree from the rap gods, sports gods and movie gods. Apparently I’m rewarded and holding on to all of my wealth, keeping everyone from getting too close or too comfortable.

And imagine all of the awareness that I’ve earned over the years, the resources that I’ve managed, and none of the family can see that I am the glue; the plug, and the connect.

Everyone is too proud to help or lend a hand, or just too stupid to realize the truth. Nobody else in my entire clan has taken responsibility to keep the flame ablaze, to keep the soup bubbling and the garden of love beautiful growing. Instead, what we have is a whole see legion of disconnected people, all living their own lives, no matter how close in proximity or how connected online. No matter if they have the phone number or can find it by simply googling, instead we use the buffer known as the Internet. The family I once knew is now but an intangible “Facebook Friend,” comfortable with this Facebook bullshit, as opposed to the authentic, rich and engaging face to face, even if it’s FaceTime.
But the truth is, I’ve grown cold and heartless. There are very few people who care about me, my well-being and my mental and spiritual health. There are very few people who love me unconditionally, wanting nothing in return. there was a time that I cared and that I gave a fuck.

There was a time that I was in full support of my elders and then I’d give the clothes off of my back for my children. And today I can honestly say that I don’t give a fuck.

Sure, I love those who love me. I love them right back like a tight rubberband. But I’ve also resolved that my family has turned their back on me, and could care less. Whether intentional, or by default, this Gilmore shit is for the birds, with no legacy in sight. And me with the pen name... the stage name... the adjective... well, I’m something like that Rolls-Royce you see driving down Main Street, the one you ignore because it’s out of reach. You know nothing about the Rolls like you do about your Honda or Toyota. You know more ‘bout that Benz you think is yours than you do about me. But you already believe that Rolls could never be yours and so you get into a space of denial. And for close to 12 years now,

I have coped by embracing perfect strangers, fans, Business acquaintances and women... yeah, I’ve buried my misery, tucked away inside of carnal pleasures.

I’m more connected to people I never grew up with, never knew extremely personally, and some that I had nothing else in common with. Would you believe my love for my Facebook, LinkedIn, Twitter and Instagram fellowships is stronger than that of my fucking blood relatives!?

Yes indeed I am part of a twisted lifestyle that fell upon me because my family is so disconnected. There was a point when my family was dysfunctional, with my father taking turns at whipping my mother, or my sister and (of course) me with a leather belt...

yes it was abuse of the worst kind hidden under the umbrella of “businessman” and “entrepreneur.” While the hood saw dad limping around on his prosthesis, we were left to cope with our brokenness. His infidelity weighed in. His gambling impacted us. His prostitution ring in the back room of his stripclub wasn’t a come-up but his way of filling the void of his missing leg. I mean, I get it. I’m not mad at dude for “being resourceful” and doing what he could with what he had. I just know he brought that home to us everyday; whether it was our house on the North side of Mount Vernon, where it appeared as tho we had a “normal life” or when he consolidated and moved us into a 2 bedroom apartment over the delicatessen he owned, complete with roaches, rats and robberies. My sisters and I took turns at running away from home... all of us have seen the wrong side of the law in one way or another. And while we’ve all taken great strides to correct what we’ve been able to correct, I am still in that space of “bouncing back,” of fixing my life and being my own Iyanla Vanzant. Yes, I’m taking care of me first, because I know that money is important... right up there at the top of the list with air and water. I also know the harsh reality I face if it ever comes down to my emergencies and whether or not people will be looking out for me. Yeah boi... to the bill. Cash money.
And so it seems the dysfunction is now reliving it self with my own children.

But, my hope is that they will mature before it gets worse and that my resources will be able to make some sort of amends down the line.

Back to our two hour conversation this morning, the one between me and my sister... well it ended with her explaining that my daughter lived thru the suicide attempt. And then the conversation was interrupted by a phone call from our so-called “dead father.”
So it was a false alarm and the news she got earlier was from the random energy of the family/always been random too. Thank God for my sister tho; Julie is the last sane spirit standing... she thought to make some calls, perhaps weighing in on her doubt/good move... and everything is everything once again. But just what the fuck is “everything” in my world of nothing... of this randomness.

And big ups to you dads who did the damn thing; holding the family down and making the sacrifices no matter what. But that ain’t me.

Everybody’s issues are different. None of us are dealt the same cards outside of blood and bones. Coincidence and circumstance has altered my realities. Still, I have no idea what a normal life is really like, or is there such a thing?
In the meantime, the beat goes on. Keeping hope alive

#relentless

Bed & Breakfast – The Relentless House – Atlanta Hospitality

Superstar actor Keith David visits The Relentless House

When you're searching for a hotel in Atlanta, you're asking for a simple, conventional fix to your visit in this big city. But when you book a stay at a bed & breakfast, it's a lot more personal. We don't simply take your money and give you the key. We make you feel at home.We have most every convenience.

And if you're lucky, when you book a room at The Relentless House, you are blessed to have an amazing novelist, slash, chef, slash Superpreneur to host your visit.

Wow. A year ago this week, I opened The Relentless House. We were RAW! Bare! NO LIFE! And now, hundreds of visitors later we are a 5-star experience with loads of amazing testimonials! I am so grateful to the man who taught me how to develop my bed & breakfast, as well as I'm grateful for the client who dragged me to Kissimmee to even meet that man who taught me bed & breakfast. I'm grateful to all the guests who've stayed at my home, as well as the team that helps me administer and operate the hospitality and everything else. What a year its been! Time to write another book! HAPPY FIRST BIRTHDAY TO THE RELENTLESS HOUSE!

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Wow!!! And what a review they left!!!

““The BEST host that I’ve stayed with thus far. As soon as we (my boyfriend and I) arrived, we felt like we were home! This place has such a homey feel to it you would think you never left home. Very clean and tidy.... smart TVs in every room and the best part about our stay was the hospitality. Mr Aaron went above and being to make us feel welcomed. We were also able to taste his award winning food while we were there!!! This will be at the very top of our list for whenever we return to Atlanta!! If you’re also in the area try out Relentless Eats!! You will be overly satisfied with the dishes served and you can experience this with your stay!!! Thanks again Mr Aaron!!! You’ve set the bar high!!”

THE AUDACITY OF A NOVELIST

I REALIZED I had to work 10x harder as other novelists in order to progress beyond all the noise of the industry. With hundreds of thousands of other authors out there, all kinds of education and connections to fuel them, I didn't care. I was ready to out-do them all...

To me, it didn't matter that you were a writer for years, went to school for it, or had big financial backing. I was willing and able to win bigger than you because you were accustomed to a certain pace, a certain timeline and a certain competitive spirit. Well, I kicked-in the door of the publishing industry. I beat out other writers for the biggest debut known to Black authors (6 figures) and just huge if you were White and entitled. This all became real because I decided 5-6 years earlier that I would MASTER MY CRAFT.

That alone wipes 80% of writers out of my way, because most writers just write because, and not on purpose. My purpose was to be the best. Then I had to set the pace; the threshold and goals had to be higher than all others by dropping a novel every month. I had exercised my talents enough so that I could write a full-length novel (pen and paper) within 2 weeks. Nobody was ready for that. Finally, if that wasn't already an unfair advantage, I used my relationships, my geographic resources and home-grown audacity to set the bar. I would not take anything less than a 6-figure deal. That meant over $100,000; and it turns out a got 3X that; nearly $300k. I would not work with a publisher that didn't give me a marketing budget. And there were a list of other "musts" that I considered mandatory... reasons why the publishing industry called me the "self-publishing Phenomenon." websites, video production, photography, podcasts atlanta georgiaFor instance, I recall the subsequent publishing deal with 50Cent/G-Unit/Simon & Schuster. I basically delivered 1/2 of my full-length novel called "Derelict," (already written) and I made some nips and tucks so that the storyline was shortened/so that I could deliver the "novella" that the publishers signed me for.  

The deal was made and after I delivered I received a copy of the proof  before it went to press. I cocked my head back, with that dumb expression across my face because my photo was not on the book? BUT I WROTE IT! Oh I was LIVID. As if I was ready for that next rap-beef with 50Cent!

I sent an email off, and the publishers quickly agreed to add my photo. Phew! I really din want no rap beef? And the relationship with 50 and I was cool! Been in his office, on the streets with him, and  joined his entourage during a day-long 5 borough concert stint. From the Bronx, the Queens, and Brooklyn and so on.

Now, I don't know if any of the other authors under G-Unit books had their pic on the book, if they got a lifetime supply of Vitamin Water, or VIP treatment to these events. If they didn't, oh well! But if they did, it was because of my energy and drive that made that happen. I was the leading advocate for the book brand at the time, making all kinds of moves in the hood to position this brand. Nothing like the power of G-Unit music/probably why the book brand failed. But the  money I made and the experience was priceless.

"Huh... do I got some stories for you!" said the award-winning author in his hood-voice. But are you ready to be a success? or do you merely wanna be an author. Come here, let me coach you.

 

It’s “O” for The Win – My View On Omarosa’s Unhinged

“No doubt that you come here with prejudice about who you think I am but all I’m asking is that you hear me out…”

SAYS OMAROSA in the opening chapter of her tell-all book #unhinged

Already she’s telling the world that she did what she had to do to get where she wanted to go, even if that was a place that people/viewers/readers wouldn’t understand. Even if it meant that some would be offended by her decisions. Even if it meant facing yet another storm in her life. Just as I tell everyone, we are here to be as resourceful as we can with what we have, our talents, our relationships, our health etc. Well, Omarosa was resourceful enough to troll Donald Trump, to win him over, to become an instant world-renowned star and onto 3 of the last 4 White House administrations. Forget about who she attached to over the past 181 months and how she became the most hated Black woman to, as some say, never again be invited to the barbecue, Mrs. Newman has done it to death.

Yes I met Omarosa at one of our big book conventions, when she was promoting the book “The Bitch Switch.” I didn’t know too much about her stint on TV or that tens of millions of viewers watched her take charge every week on The Apprentice or later on The Ultimate Merger. And I didn’t know she was so connected to politics. I guess we were working that law of Correspondence and it just felt right to take that photo. But thats where it ends for O & R. Up until now, writing this commentary, I haven’t seen her but for in the press here and there. I’m not into politics, couldn’t tell you the last thing Trump tweeted, and I honestly don’t or didn’t care. But this book is the ultimate introduction to this woman. She’s a warrior! As I’ve heard her joke on TV, “if I’m in a fight with a bear, pray for the bear.” Funny, but also true if you see the latest bear has orange hair.

This is the biggest message underlying #Unhinged, Omarosa’s latest book: Omarosa is one extremely resourceful woman. Period. End of story. Part of 3 Presidential administrations. That ride or die soldier, despite the war going on to toss Trump and the intense flack she was getting from the Black community.

Still standing after the 3 big deaths in her family; her dad & brother were killed and her husband, actor Michal Clarke Duncan died in 2012 of complications due to a heart attack). No question that Omarosa is built to be tough.

I’ve heard a few interviews where she keeps repeating “I was complicit” relating to the choices she made, waving the pro-Trump flag and the part where she says “pray for the bear,” in the event she and a bear get into a fight. But look… I’m not here for any of that. I’m here to talk about another successful author, her story and I’m done. Don’t come for me because of my in-depth review or because I’m a neutral, non-hater. I’m not about all that banter. Fact is, Omarosa is another “O” who’s winning. She’s an author who’s winning, having earned a spot at the top of the New York Times best seller list as of today 08/25/2018. And all the hate and daggers thrown at her is doing nothing more than to fuel a greater success. She didn’t kill anyone, but she does have a few things going for her. One, she can write in vivid detail. Two, she’s famous and relevant. And Three, she’s whistle-blowing on the man who so-called runs the world. This content is fire.

So, here’s the thing: my commentary is not merely about Omarosa, and I’m not on any crusade to redeem her for her dispicable Judas-ways. Afterall, Spike Lee, Black Twitter, and the whole Black Illuminati has signed-off on the deal: Omarosa is no longer welcome to the family barbaque. She has officially been stripped of her “Black Card.”

Look we’ve called her everything and she’s heard it all for years now. She’s numb to it, its not affecting her success at all… I know you want her to feel your hurt and pain; some get-back for how she dissed the Black community, but get over it. Move on.

Naturally she has read the blogs and the comments and she is Teflon-tough in her response to it all. Instead of responding to everyone’s individual opinion of her, she’s decided to do a broad sweep of the greatest kind, to wipe out all of our assumptions and judgments so that she can survive and progress with what spillage is left over. I talk a lot about spillage in life; how you can build your brand by “riding the tiger.” The synergy of that connection reaps super rewards if that brand then intern embraces you. And if there’s any of what I teach in this equation, Omarosa  has and is experiencing the greatest spillage I’ve ever seen. Photographed as she directs this man with the once golden hair; serving as a liaison to the Black community. According to where she came from, Omarosa has ascended to arguably the world’s greatest platforms of network television, the White House (proper) three times over, and now in the biggest press run she’s ever experienced. Every author I know would LOVE the kind of free publicity Omarosa’s book Unhinged is receiving. Every network news channel, every important magazine and newspaper… she was on Meet The Press, for God sakes. Even if her book was all lies, fiction and fantasy, something substantial has put her in these hot seats on CNN, MSNBC, in front of the world’s foremost interviewers. And she’s playing them all like a fiddle. I watched as she told one interviewer (in essence) to “make it snappy, I got another interview to do.” I mean, whats better than that, creating that sense of urgency that tells someone “hey you’d better come correct because you may not get the chance to speak with me again.” But would we sell out the Black community to get it? Hmmm

The spillage behind all of the reality show episodes Omarosa has appeared on in past years has served to confirm and secure certain marketing throughout the nation. She’s part of the discussion, like it or not. And she gets to be tactical with it! She’s on the “bullying side” of these negotiations now. She’s most-hated and lost her “Black Card” according to many.  She left to leveraging a life of experiences into this meteoric book promotion.

Picture the tens of millions of television viewers she’s entertained, angered and/or attracted over the years. Add to that are perhaps millions of politically brainwashed zealots/all of you folks who like to bury your heads in all-things-politics/for whatever reasons that floats your boat. (I give you “shrugs” and a “parade wave” from a guy who is independent of certain cult fellowships). And now I’m reminding you, whether you like it or not, Omarosa is back with a Best Seller; her tell-all book. She’s back to curate and double-down on the millions upon millions of daily news-watchers that might be her fans of old, her controversial admirers (or not) from her recent political dives, and her hope is that all of that works out to foster the biggest book sales agenda ever for a so-called whistle-blower. 

Hey look, if you’re an author reading this, or a reader and lover of books… even if you’re a librarian, there’s just no way you can hate this woman’s hustle. 1) This is a good fucking read. 2) It’s one of the greatest success stories ever. And 3) worst case scenario, this is a great exit plan that will inevitably turn into an amazing film project.

All of this will mark Omarosa’s purpose here on Earth. She can rest easy knowing that she’s been there and done that to the highest levels and greatest depths. She’ll be able to afford security to watch her “20,” her bank account is on blast, and you know her when you see her, bar none. The equity, the purpose and the potential behind all of that is simply amazing.  It means endless speaking engagements. It means she can eat well until her dying day. Above all, it means she can rest easy knowing that she has done it all. If merely in her own mind, Omarosa was the living/breathing “Olivia Pope.” And you all fucking LOVE Olivia Pope’s Scandlous ass. 

And if all of that to you doesn’t represent greatness and success, there is still her fall-back, that space & time where she currently finds herself in a church community that historically will not let you go and will support you despite whatever decisions you have decided to make in your past. Hell, the church forgives murder, rape and every other backwoods offense; so then why not Omarosa? 

Many of us are crying sellout, Judas, kiss-ass. But even as Omarosa takes on the challenge of to admitting, rationalizing and justifying all of this, there’s just no denying the “big win” here.

And if that’s not big and bad/bold and humble enough, Omarosa now finds herself at the pulpit of the church, beside a pastor of the church, in a leadership role as a “First Lady” in that church… A role taken on and mastered by successful icons such as Tammy Faye Bakker, Taffi Dollar, and even the television fictional character held down and “Owned” by renowned actress Lynn Whitfield in her role as Lady Mae in Oprah’s Greenleaf series.

And so Omarosa used all that she knows, oh she’s experienced and all that she’s learned to become all that she is today. 

Like it or lump it, she’s been resourceful. Yes, even though she stood by and watched the buffoonery of “Diamond & Silk,” Dr Ben Carson, and the big buffoon himself, Donald Trump… all of them fucking up world history as we know it, that lol Black girl grew up to BE SOMEBODY. Way more than so many of us can claim. She did so without doing the most; stuff we see on the 6 o’clock news everyday. Sure, she made wicked choices, but more like wickedly brilliant. Shit, if you ‘gon ride or die for somebody, make it a rich, bold, controversial mofo who don’t give a fuq. Perhaps there will be spillage! 

And even if you’re casting judgment on all of what you have seen play itself out on the political front, there’s no way that the murders of her father, her brother or the sudden death of her former husband, the late actor Michael Clarke Duncan had anything to do with her choices over the past decade or so? And yet those realities still play a role in Omarosa’s life. Don’t go discounting this woman’s existence and real-life experiences but for this smidgen of wack allegiance she’s displayed for the wrong team. It is still on her to be a survivor, to be a breadwinner, and to ultimately be a contribution to those who support her through thick and thin. Oh, oh, oh! I wanted to speak on a couple of ironies in this hot mess; one was Steve Harvey talking about Michael Clarke Duncan taking/accepting that stereotypical role (for 10 million Dollars) in the Planet of the Apes. Steve says “Michael know damn well he aint got no business playing no monkey in no movie.”

“How much are they paying you to play an ape?” The black audience enthusiastically agreed with Harvey. Harvey even said that when Duncan appeared on his radio show, several black callers pressured him to chastise Duncan for accepting the role. So I thought about the irony of Michael being seen as a “betrayer of the race” as well as how Omarosa is seen (in the same way), and then to realize the 2 had married. Just a lot of coincidence to unpack.

Look, I could write a whole book about how most of us flock-to, follow and embrace celebrities both good and bad. But for this one woman’s reasons, she has flocked-to, followed and embraced the goon of all goons, and she walked away unscathed and forever popular. According to our generation, Omarosa could’ve been a basketball wife, a rap mogul’s dime piece, or even some popular TV producer/TV host/cultural icon. But there’s only room for one “O” in that arena. The other “O” is now canceled, the series is immortal on your smart tv. And still, the other “O” is on fire in the Hiphop life. And so, whether you agree with or follow Oprah, Olivia, Onika or Omarosa, the “O’s” have it family. They are dominating the global stage from every which Way, and I guess it all comes down to who you want to support or not. In the end, who is putting money in your bank account, food on your table, or inspiring you to be and do better?

DEAR IG VIXEN, A DEEP LETTER FROM RELENTLESS AARON

DEAR IG VIXEN:

I realize you want more appeal, and that you wanna be more popular than anyone else in your stream. But it’s time for some real-talk.

But before I bust your ass, I need you to know that I love you, that you’re important to me, and that I see you well into the future as a mom, as a leader, and as an accomplished attribute to society.

A cautionary address to IG Vixens from novelist Relentless Aaron

There you go gurl, showing cleavage and ass, fishing for acceptance, stares, and  affection… you’re looking at all the other IG Vixens for ideas and clue (following the leaders)  on how you-too can get the views. If that doesn’t work, you shed a little more clothing. If that doesn’t work, you get naked. If that doesn’t work… yeah, this is you, pretty lady. You want the “likes” the “followers’ and “comments,” and you’ll go as hard as possible to stake that claim. Maybe you can even get someone to crush on you. Or you can convince an admirer to take you out on a date; or even lay with you for money. Yup… escorting, if you’re not already doing this, its coming, right? And imagine that whole process is endorsed by the others you see practicing it… imagine that this path you’re following has been promoted over and over again until you were brainwashed with it, until you’ve now adopted this process as your own. So you’re about to strip on the Gram, right? Wait, what? I’m opening your eyes? You mean, there’s the option for change here?

Get your instagram views today 404-477-8257

YOU’RE TELLING YOURSELF: But if everyone’s doing this then isn’t it alright to do? Isn’t it the thing to do??”Or you’re thinking, “getting likes and follows and comments is everything!” Well, Ms. IG Vixen, at some point in your life, like, before you had breasts, your parents or guardians were likely holding you accountable for how you dressed or how you acted in public. Now you’re slippin out from under their watchful eyes with your slick, private IG account. If daddy hasn’t caught you already, and brought that leather belt to your ass… you may have escaped and ran away or just moved out altogether with the help of a boyfriend. Really? A BOYFRIEND over that good home cookin, that comfortable bed and 24-hour surveillance? This was your better choice? Your parents were paying for electricity, the food bill, you could do your laundry whenever, a nice yard and free wifi… they were sincerely caring for you, not doing what you’re boyfriend is doing; looking for the convenient hook-up, the partnership and affirmation of his low self-esteem-havin, miserable existence. Those parents love you unconditionally until you piss them off. And you gave all that up for your so-called “freedom” and “independence.” Now you struggling lil gurl, your boyfriend got the best of you and you’re hustlin to stay awake at one job. drivin Uber (no shade) as a side-huslte. Meanwhile, your “man” ain’t workin no more but doesn’t mind holding the cellphone to take those sexy pics of you for your social media.

Your boyfriend is becoming another “Safaree” affirming and controlling your free time where you try and look sexy on IG, playin with cigarettes, Black & Milds or Hookah smoke, tryna be cute but basically marketing yourself to highest bidder.

And the bidders are out there lookin at your weak-ass love affair, waitin like vultures to swoop in and play captain save-a-hoe the moment you post some shit like, #teamsingle or #fucklove with your latest nude booty-shots.  Some of you aren’t in the most extreme danger… some of you aren’t falling for that latest DM and the lure of money and compassion. Some of you are still trying to keep some scruples about you, not necessarily doin the most… you don’t wanna show too much. You don’t wanna offend those who are within your immediate surroundings/maybe your coworkers, and maybe even those who might catch on indirectly. Maybe someone is recording this moment on their phone, with their eyes… and by default, there’s always that God almighty screenshot or repost that can indict and convict you. God forbid that your preacher, pastor, employer or mother in-law catch on to your shenanigans.

As a matter of fact, unbeknownst to you, did you know your daddy and your preacher are both salivating? Of course they are. They’ve already seen you “loose” or they’ve imagined you naked. Do you have any idea that these men who are your brothers, uncles and fathers are living out these taboo illnesses in their minds? That they’re thinking of you in their wildest dreams?

Do you realize that porn clips exist where men and women pretend to be father/daughter, brother/sister, German Shephard and (nevermind)… yuck! Or even married; even as they fuck the women they signed up for? Yes, yes, yes, the unbalanced man can even be married and still have this wandering lust for you. Sick? Of course not. Because the President even makes this “okay” as he lusts after his daughter on the world stage. Weird. Sick. Pathetic. Of course it is.

But it doesn’t negate the fact that these soft porn activities in the mainstream are part of the gas in the tank of lust, and that lust is the illness underlying all the so-called bad crimes we’ve seen from WoodyAllen, to RKelly, to PeeWeeHerman, to all the Catholic Priests, (yeah, all of em), to the female cougars, all the way thru to the newscasters, film producers, singers, rappers, ball players and (again) 2 out of 3 past Presidents. That’s right, Trump is fuckery at its best, but tricky-Dick-Bill Clinton ran a close second.

And to the men: Is there someone to answer to or to hold you accountable for this behavior, if not God? Do all men who lust and who allow their imaginations to soar deserve a straight jacket? A prison sentence? A public stoning? Shit, are they still stoning women for adultery in Afghanistan? Perhaps all punishment is subjective to who’s been hurt and what rules have been broken. But back to you, Vixen; set aside all of the misbehavior that’s going on, there’s another set of you women who just don’t give a fuck/on numerous levels. You label your promiscuous activities as “unapologetic.” And if anyone speaks out against it, or if they try and check you, they are so called “slut-shaming.” Everybody has an answer for everything to defend their every action no matter from which direction it comes. In the end, we all can find some sort of justification for our actions or our inactions, covering everything under the sun.

Only in the courtroom will you find that nobody gets a pass for choices made, for actions or misbehaviors, especially if it goes too far past a certain threshhold.

Still the reality of “the lure” is there, and too many of us are fully engaged on both ends of the stick. Too many men are feeding into and serving, saving and subsidizing these platforms whether it’s secretly in their bathrooms or outwardly at the local strip clubs. Shit, Hooters didn’t drive the content right to your welcome mat? This is the world of tits and Ass, you fucking prudes! Grab em by the pussies and you can still be President you stuck-up bastards!Yes, this dude’s money, power and respect has purchased the world’s ethics and morals, before hanging them out in the backyard to dry. We are all now in the “spin cycle,” with women seeing IG as their platform to perform, to undress, to entertain and (naturally) to earn money with their God-givens. They are going through so much to manifest attention and interest, or the extremes of conquering something or someone for sex, gifts or even a job. The whole allure… the whole IDGAF “savage-attitude” with the mask and the representative has evolved from the days when “looking presentable” was enough, to what is now 24/7 hardcore porn in the workplace, on the radio, on the music streaming services, on television and in yo face via the internet.

If you’re a guy, and you’re not married, or there’s no one woman in your life who is rocking your world during your available recreational time, then you my fickled, fellow friend are being mind-fucked on the regular. However, this does not set the standard for all men. This temperature doesn’t require that you give-in to the temptations. It does however require that you be strong enough to turn away if its not your thing. You can block, unfollow, and even fill your cup with other content such as motivational videos, some great free podcasts on itunes, and there’s always a good self help book. (Remember those?) And too, If there is a woman, kids, a family, a purpose and a daily agenda to impregnate a man’s attentions with fulfillment, satisfaction and all the joys that come with that package, then (in theory) that man is content with what he has, who he has and how he has it. Moreover, if that man is not content, satisfied and occupied with the sensations of life, he may just be left to pursue the natural order of things. Meaning, we are hunters by nature.

Sometimes I think people forget that. We forget we’re hunting for food, acknowledgement, success, goal
achievement, hormonal balance; not necessarily in that order. Sometimes I think people ignore the human instinct and the need for people to be psychosomatically balanced.

After all, time and again we are reminded that psychosomatic imbalance can lead to the worst that can happen. Tension, anxiety and frustration are the worst that can happen. And should that be the reality for a police officer who’s high-risk job follows him back to his house… you know, that “boring” life contained in what we’d like to believe as the comforts of home… or if not that, this same reality of imbalance can drive other men to drink (and get drunk) on Porn, on food or on some other unhealthy tension-relieving activity. And aren’t we reminded enough as we watch the 6 o’clock news to see who that next single man-turned lone gunman is? Aren’t we numb to the mass shootings and testimonies from neighbors who repeat that same old melody “we had no idea he had so many guns in his home…” “ there were no red flags to let us know that he was so dangerous…” “we never saw any indications… was so nice.”

And that is the same old song, time after time, seasoned with bloodshed, random violence and certain tragic loss. All of it captured on your boob-tube for you to absorbe as an aside to your dinner entrée’.

Please don’t get me wrong, we are all voyeurs to some degree. We’re stopping on the thruway to see who got pulled over, who’s caught in that over-turned vehicle or who that is in handcuffs… we’re curious and hungry enough that we’ll put our own lives in danger/slaves to our instincts. And the moment our eyes connect with our brains there is a signal sent to assess what we see, hear or sense. And our response to said temptations is to either submit and surrender or block, bypass or altogether avoid. There is a level of discipline, focus and even intention that plays a significant role in how we see things and what we do or don’t do any response. This is not to rationalize a man’s actions or reactions, but it is the framework that we practice day after day and year after year. Not only discipline but maturity also plays a major role in how we assess what we face.

The reality is that this is a real struggle, a challenge and a problem for some who don’t have the information, who don’t wear the Teflon, or who are not built with disciplines, patience, options or practices that can offset this very real imbalance.

Part of this is also one’s happiness, joy or peace of mind. You either have it or you don’t and hopefully you are working on this issue. Most of us do not have the happiness joy and peace of mind because we are not achieving our dreams that are at times unrealistic and out of reach in the first place. Our dreams are many times crafted for us and projected at us as if that is the thing to do and be. Not enough science, math and literature in our daily diets. Instead we’re injected with stimulants like these visual playmates. Yes, you Ms. IG Vixen with your nose-ring and smoke swirls.

Your presence is becoming all-too-common and you’re blending in with all the others, all of you being pigeonholed and categorized however wrongfully. You wanna be a queen, then ACT like a queen. But if not…

Have you become part of the audience who sees the luck that others have enjoyed and now you’re suddenly and silently hurting inside, knowing that your clock is ticking and that your hopes and dreams are fading further and further away? Or are you being patient, doing the homework and mastering your craft so that you’ll be appreciated for your hard work? Are you drinking, druging, smoking, eating, gambling, venting, and simply making excuses? Are you focusing on the lives of others and not your own life’s goals?

Some of us go to the extreme of crying out loud or we try to shoot others down simply because they are winning and we are not. I know this is a lot to unpack in this short and long commentary, but if you think hard about the truths herein… if you dive deep into the ideas of a man’s satisfaction or lack thereof, you will see these realities mirrored before our very eyes. From the White House to the crackhouse, this is the truth underlying a man’s existence. It is not necessarily a broad stroke definition for all of us, since many of us are content and satisfied and living a life of abundance within our reach. Many of us are in the church, or spiritually grounded, or very focused on our goals, or we are exerting extreme physical endurance in our daily routines in effort to maintain that mind- body balance. Having kids, good credit and a fellowship of close friends helps us to stay focused. Deep dives into amassing knowledge, self realization and that whole allegiance with and passion for learning, reading and exploring are also ways and means to keep us engaged, peaceful and cooperative. “Be Humble” is more than a catchy rap hook when it comes to staying alive in a scenario where you face a threat, eminent danger, or dare I say death. Meditation. Prayer. Giving and taking pleasure amongst willing and able partners. Yeah, that’s the fight many face, man or woman. Yes, I’m particularly speaking about men, but I realize that women have some of these issues as well. That imbalance can also be loneliness, frustration or just “a void” that women feel in the overall scheme of things.

Is this the reason that older women hunger and hunt after a younger men, perhaps an under age young man? Not altogether true. But a number of us are twisted and don’t know the difference between right or wrong, good or bad, stank or holy. There is the mental health issue again. And there’s also a place for such people. There is therapy for such people. Some of us even live with these demons and deny the urge. We hold it at bay. We fight this fight daily up into our 50s 60s and 70s. And there’s not any one template of what to expect from a human being, when to expect it, and or the random ways in which these actions surface. Carlton Heston responds to all of this so brilliantly in his epic film The Planet of The Apes/1968. It’s so much the best and most memorable oveture ever in a film that Tracy Morgan had to reenact it in The Last OG: S1/E6

“It’s a MAD HOUSE! A MAAAAAAD HOUSE!!!”

On top of all of that there is the moral or ethical standards that we adhere to, many of which are moral, generational or geographic. There are freedom of speech issues in the way. There are human rights issues clouding the atmosphere. But in your heart you know whats right, wrong and purposeful. You know what pre-Cosby looked like considering how that case was hammered into the national discussion for years, and you know what post-Cosby looks like with me-too, times-up and every other feminist hashtag locked and loaded to get a slice of that next sponsorship check. So, somethings that took place back then are not acceptable today, and visa-versa. But also, where geography matters, some things in Europe are not permitted or acceptable in the society we know as the United States; did you ever see the pimp/gigolo tv commercials that once played in Italy or the sexually-driven ones from Latin America? Have you ever seen the news they promote daily on Latin America’s Univision or the stuff on AlJazeera? It’s raw like Worldstar. It’s raw live Liveleak. Somethings that take place in Africa or India are not necessarily acceptable practices here in the United States; the multiple, docile wives for instance, the bombing aftermaths and the horrible punishment and assault that women endure if they break the sacred vows of marriage. And still some practices are hidden inside of certain religions. Maybe you haven’t studied Joseph Smith and his pop-up religion known as Mormons and that whole Latter Day Saints nonsense and how this religion and its doctrines was all set up for the sole purpose of authorizing and permitting a man to exercise having numerous wives under that very umbrella of protection and permission. But even as these practices fell apart and were inevitably “outlawed” in the 1800’s, the remnants of that culture are still alive today. I mean, what choice do folks have if children were born under that cult? But wait! Is that Jimmy Kimmel & Kanye West who just promoted PornHub on the primetime talk show??? OMG its over! No stone unturned!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YvMwDp9XcHA

Yes, darlings, promiscuity is still alive and thriving today.

For God sakes the fucking President of the United States that YOU voted into office has smashed and blurred and trampled the ethics and values of the nation and perhaps the world, making it okay for a famous person to prey on and grab on a woman’s pussy, in public… upon first meeting!

Okay my rant is thru. And to be clear, I’m not turning up my nose or shaming any of this shit; afterall, I’m a novelist that built a dynasty off of original, deception-filled, scandalous, toe-curling, jaw-dropping content. It’s just that I can’t help detailing this bullshit; how its all here in your face, in plain sight. I’mthoroughly enjoying how humans interact, counteract and misbehave and how this all plays out. Maybe I’m waiting for this Sodom and Gomorrah tale
remix; how we human beings engage in the carnal realities we are trapped within on a daily basis for all to see in all its color and flavor. I’m just on the lookout for the second coming and these 2 angels who may come and warn us about the destruction of this hot mess.👀

Naturally, I’m speaking to everyone in this commentary, and again, I love you all. But back to you IG Vixens, in spite of the hustle you struggle with everyday, I hope you’re observing cautions and avoiding the quicksand of life. Because you don’t want to make a lifetime decision but for that quick thrill. But do as you do, family.

Live & let live. Just know your choices and the potential consequences in the pursuit of your passion!

Relentless

 

Welcome to RelentlessAaron.Net

CARNAL MACCHIATTO-Did Starbucks Fuel My Decade of Orgasms?

WARNING: This content will be graphic at times. 

So right now, I’m about to get jiggy with a bit of kiss ‘n tell. Names changed to protect the innocent (of course). And to my true-blue friends, yes… I have no shame, but I’ve also grown up/its been almost 6 years since this period of my life. Forgive me. lol

Warnings & Disclaimers done. 

Did Starbucks Fuel My Decade of Orgasms?

So this mountain of sexual variety in my life… I believe it’s all about numbers and how it makes mathematical sense to see, segment and piece together my love life (or sexual escapades) in direct alignment with my marriage to the Starbucks brand. Yes, it’s geographic at first; you know, the Law of Correspondence and how like minds can be found connecting in certain spaces, places and events that affirm our beliefs?  But it’s honestly so much more than that. It’s way more than me just sitting in the coffee shop with a giant sponge in hand, trying to soak-up the things I want from the people I see. It’s also more specifically and scientifically about “positioning,” “being receptive” and sort of attracting what I want in life. I can speak to this from experience, as its happened time and time again. And since the past 10 years have found me in a Starbucks coffee shop for 85% of my waking hours, it feels as if by design, the flowers will bloom and nature takes its course. You know, that man/woman connection that finds me taking on the role of the honeybee, attracting to, smelling and then eating from these “flowers.”

Sometimes I took trips to other starbucks coffee shops and the attention followed me. This is from someone who posted on their own page, I guess they were blown away by my audacity

Indeed, a number of these flowers that I spoke of… the women I’ve met as a result of loafing at STARBUCKS, were daisies and daffodils that had short lifespans. But there were a couple of orchids and roses that I won’t ever forget; some engagements with longlasting memories I can hold onto. No, I’m not saying that orchids or roses last for six months to a year, however they do represent these amazing symphonies that life has delivered my way. You know those instances that are so unbelievably satisfying at times, and at other times leave you with that guilty conscience in those moments of relief when I found myself shaking off the things that came from my mouth; the nasty shit we did with each other. And for whatever reason these flowers left my garden, my heart is full and satisfied knowing that they were “in-season.” On one hand I could ask myself “well if it was everything you cried and raved about, then why didn’t we keep it going?” Then on the other hand,  these could simply be teachable moments that give me great content to write about. And I could resolve it all just telling myself that perhaps this wasn’t sent to be. Women are a trip tho; you come in guns blazing, claiming “I won’t ever leave you,” and then suddenly the curtains close on that one-act play… the love-story part of the fairytale.  And what ends up happening is y’all blackout and blockout everything that we had. You don’t even know how to communicate what you’ve done in the end, as if you’d been daydreaming the whole time. Which brings me to Rose…

I’m not mad at “Rose” for how she acted. Hell, nobody’s perfect. But we had some great times!

“Rose” was one of three flowers I shall not forget, how we locked eyes, expressed deep devotion during those first few text messages, then in person one-on-one conversations over coffee out on the Starbucks patio. We’d get to the point that I’m staring at you and where you are sneaking a peek here and there, deciding or affirming me as potentially that next man in your life… a life-partner, even.  Then that lead to touching/hand-holding, long hugs and then me stealing a kiss. This could be called “our process” where we are making assessments. And just like clockwork, she eventually testifies “I’m in love with you” just weeks into the courting… this is exactly as it went down with Rose, play by play. At some point, very randomly, Rose said “You don’t understand how I asked God to bring me the man I wanted and needed…” Yup. Heard that one before too. And there I was, ushered into her life thanks to a client who I met where else, but at Starbucks. That client hired me to film an event for her and on that day, in her establishment, I met this dreamgirl (my next girlfriend) with her lil tight body, her darling eyes and afterwards her spicy activities in bed. Was I living my dream? Sure I was, only my dream brought me to living in an RV at the time. And (as was the case with numerous one-night stands), Rose gave me her mouth, her body and her surrender right there on the carpet, and then the bed. I recall the lil fun argument we had about that day I stole a tongue-kiss/how she felt it was waaaay too soon, during those early coffee dates. Yup, days into our relationship I realized what I wanted, did my momentary soul-searching, and boom; I took charge. Argue if you will that I moved too fast… that whole 90-day rule that Steve Harvey promotes. Sheeet… That might be the plan for the cautious and patient men and women on the single’s scene. But my reality, much like I do in business, I’m always a “first mover.” If I see something and I want it, and it makes sense? Done! And I owe my long standing success with women (at least during the last 10 years) to Starbucks! Sure my execution of this process was my own design, however I know people who have also met at Starbucks and who have gotten married, had children, and living happily ever after.

i believe a lot of people already realized I was off the chain when I started my “Kissing Relentless” reality series/filmed in Conyers Georgia. I believe I was on mark, but before my time. The video is now at over 2 million views. Maybe I was doing something agreeable?

 Stealing a kiss was the least of her concerns, because I was at first determined, and then it was my reality to eventually have that ass! I mean look: finding a good looking, progressive, healthy, single chic, age 31… 15 years younger than me, no kids? And I’m gonna pass that ass up? I THINK NOT! That’s what we call “Marriage or Wifey Material.” And I wanted it all, even if I wasn’t ready for it financially. Even if I was biting off more than I could chew. At least I could claim the woman; put my smack down, and the rest would come in time, right?

But as if I had exercised some 6th sense, I came to realize I was SPOT-ON in my quest. Rose hit me with this word-for-word from her action-packed lips: “I like it in my ass. When she said that I was like, damn! What happened to Miss Sweet Polly Purebread who thought I kissed her too early?”  But instead, that’s when I felt I’d met my match. Yup!? And not to say that I also enjoy her anal fantasies because I don’t! Although I have engaged in ass-fucking with my wife, it’s really not my thing. But it obviously paints a picture about Rose that screams “she’s a freak like me! She’s a freak like me!” There was once a rapper named Jimmy Spicer. And in his song “Super Rhymes” he spits: I gotta get away, I gotta go to the disco, find the freak of my dreams

I was goal oriented, business minded, a coffee lover, and still, crazy, sexy & cool. Starbucks filled my 40’s with MAD memories!

And there you have it. This was the temperature of the sexcapades of me in my RV, way out in rural Conyers, Georgia. Anyone who knows me on social media or otherwise, knows I lived in a 28ft RV; the exact replica of the one starring in The Emmy-Winning Breaking Bad tv series. Only, in the back was a bedroom instead of a methlab. And it was this way for close to 10 years (2008-2017). Yes, I still have the truck, and I’m looking forward to shooting a film with it before I sell it off. But there are enough memories in that RV to soak a cotton field with an ocean of my ejaculate. Yes, the fishies were swimming in my ejaculate. Lol! And, indeed at times I look at that 10yr period of my life as one hot & steamy marathon/enough sex to consider tying it up and storing it away for life.  A close friend even suggested that “your dick probably looks like a war-zone.” But while she was hilarious, and while she said this during her own interest in experiencing my lovemaking, she was also underestimating me. Hell, I kept it safe, family. As safe as An author with a fetish could manage. Afterall, we live in a world of diseases and dis-ease. And I din want any parts of that. But also, I should say “Phew! I made it out alive!” And my dick and health are in tact. So, instead of seeing the “warzone,” I tend to compartmentalize that period. I see that as the pocket of time where I transitioned from the realities of infidelity, divorce and New York… where I had to truly learned to live & survive in Atlanta without family support or insurances in place… it was more like a decade of exercising this muscle of mine from a weak loser to a strong warrior spear. These were “The Olympics” for me! Conquer and destroy. I could begin to recall the names to fit the faces. But the faces and bodies were something like my own unlimited gift card. A 10 year magic carpet ride of fulfilling, redeeming sex; fuel that inspired me to be creative, to press on, to get those monkeys of failure, self esteem issues, and that goliath-desire off of my back and to eventually get back to the plan and the purpose… my “why” and the ultimate reason I’m here in the comfortable place I’m in today.

Nevertheless, something like 8 or 9 years ago, I was always surprised that beautiful women like the Rose, the Orchid and (I’ll call the 3rd one) Chrys (short for the Chrysanthemum) could settle so easy and be so comfortable in my RV. Even tho I kept it clean and swagalicious with curtains, mood lighting, and the most soothing jazz and incense you could find below the Bible Belt. My “man-cave on wheels was all that. A mini-wine & liquor shelf, some of my best friends and mentors watching over me from framed photos, and my living space was even “confirmed” with that one autographed photo I got from the King of Pop years ago. And even tho it was so personalized with my success over the years, the awards, photos and years of entertainment memorabilia, it was still a truck. And it was still hard to imagine these flowers trapped in my animal embrace… in my Breaking Bad RV. After all, these women came from families with big or small traditional lifestyles and experiences that would have a person looking sideways at a brotha in his 40s; a brotha on that minimalist journey, living off the grid. But then again, there are a couple of ways to see that scenario: ONE, who’s to say that your excessive ways of living, relating and existing is better than my choices? TWO, why would you assume that someone living a minimalist lifestyle is experiencing any less joy, peace and progress than you are yourself? Wasn’t I saving thousands of dollars in overhead? Isn’t there much less accountability , responsibility and headaches I need to nurse? And besides, how many people have told me “RELENTLESS is the perfect name for you!”

when I say I was a star at Starbucks, I didn’t just talk the talk, I walked the walk… then the reporters show up

And still, my real-time life in an RV wasn’t a walk in the park. It wasn’t as sensational as an Emmy Award Winning TV show either. But while I was Breaking Bad in my own slick ways, I still had EXTREME CHALLENGES! For instance, I  struggled with learning my RV and being stuck with a mountain of mechanical failures and issues of things like keeping three industrial batteries charged. There was the fight to always have enough propane to keep the heater on in 20 degree Winter nights. Or just to keep the stove going. Cuz yall know I love to cook. If that’s not enough, there was the vehicle’s generator that wasn’t strong enough to support the built-in AC. And of course being “off-grid” means no electrical outlet to plug into. That wasn’t something I worked out until 2015/2016. Most of all there was the positioning of the vehicle; where would I park it? (Especially after I bought a car to zip around in.) Well eventually these things worked themselves out and I managed to stay afloat as I became more and more resourceful. Instead of camping in the Walmart parking lot, a chain known to welcome RVs to stay on their property, I was now ready to step my game up. I eventually hit paydirt and found a client who not only allowed me to “park” the vehicle on his property for years, but I was even able to plug-in to electric outlets and pay somethin on that to account for my usage.

Weddings, anniversaries, graduations, birthday parties, I’ve done it all thanks to Starbucks. Relationships are everything, and the coffee shop facilitates the most authentic connections

But this was certainly me being Relentless, no 9-5 job to take my energy… plenty of clients paying into my talents/enabling me to live free… empowered with good health, a strong libido and that grey area of playing the tightrope of Backpage vs Craigslist, ignoring all levels of ethics, morals and focus. My only focus was soaking that “cottonfield.” Yup. This is a movie alright.

My timeline would show me finding Rose; this thrilling ride flesh, youth and smiles, all gift-wrapped with her cute, perky breasts,  a perfectly sculpted ass, captivating smile, and her entrepreneurial spirit. And now (not then) I realize that’s been a trend, how these younger women with their energetic drive and passion just dance into my life for their shot at the long or short SoulTrain spotlight. Not to mention the 2-way street here, how I was also attracted to her younger energy. She was submissive, full of energy and in spite of her hint of sassy pride, I could even feel her obedience playing into my sometimes lingering chauvinist tendencies.

Rose and I progressed rather quickly from the RV to becoming “housemates.” Her mom had expressed overtures of how her new, White boyfriend was her ticket out of an apartment to a 3br house,  (Okay? Pregnant Pause) and so my Rose and I moved right on in and shared in the $600 rent.

I got to throw down in the kitchen and to once again taste what traditional housing felt like after two or three years in my RV. And this was the first time since my 20’s that I ran into a woman who matched my skyhigh freak levels. Imagine that I can’t remember this woman’s name but that I can remember her tellin me “I like it in my ass” and how there was an endless routine of early morning wake-up sex that found me half-sleep and my dick wide awake as if it was her exclusive breakfast treat. And Rose loved to swallow me. It was a practice that simply jaded me with expectations far past my recollecting her name and why or how we even broke up. It even reminded me of my first girlfriend with that same fetish, back when I was 17 or 18 years old in Mt Vernon, NY.

No kidding: I’m so grateful for the experience that those five months gave me. At times it was a fairytale. At others, a porno flick. But all of it was engorged with bouts of unharnessed carnal nirvana. As I said, I can’t recall why we broke up, but I do know that it was her sabotaging “us” with something very instant and impulsive. whatever it was it was fixable. But maybe our relationship ran it’s course. I remember the night before the breakup we were making love (or fucking/I can’t tell the difference sometimes). And that next day I was moving my stuff back to my RV. Thank God I had kept old Breaking Bad.

 

LIFE.

After Rose came the Orchid. (But let’s name her Ophelia). This one I actually met in Starbucks. She was minding her business and I was minding mine and we somehow crossed paths. Another thing I should mention was that I had become a celebrity at this particular Starbucks coffee shop. From the 24inch Imac I toted-in daily, to the live comedy & jazz shows I produced in the shop, to the many business/political/community relationships that I earned, to the front page newspaper article written about me, and that damned 28ft behemoth (the Fleetwood Pace Arrow) out in the parking lot, it was clear that I was present and persistent in making Starbucks my home. And the corporate Starbucks policy allowed for this; for me to stay there all day, drink coffee, do business, incubate my talents. Sure I’d step out to cook lunch in my mobile home. Sure I might need to grab a camera and mic to film a testimonial for some local tv commercials I ran. Sure I might need a sudden change of clothes so that I’d be presentable for somebody’s wedding, a business meeting or even a Governor’s ceremony at the Georgia State Capital. But while people may have witnessed those things, how I was doing the most, they’d never imagine the other stuff… the sex. Me being a human… A single man with real needs and desires.

One thing led to another with Ophelia; the coincidental, first run-in led to more conversation, which led to us becoming business partners and inevitably that lead to her advances. Now I’m no sex symbol by any stretch of the imagination, but I can recognize the attraction if it exists. Upfront I explained to her “I don’t wanna mix business with pleasure;” and this was no psychological ploy or strategy. I was serious.

The transformations, altercations and elevations! This guy here tho!

Ophelia inevitably claimed “I’ve been trying to do this-this and this for years, and you changed all of that within weeks!” She shared this overture, not during pillow talk, but in casual conversation there in the coffee shop. Day by day we worked side by side, chunking away at goals and objectives; building relationships with local businesses so that I could exercise my talents for profit. The websites, tv commercials, book projects, all that… Ophelia helped me to pitch to those clients and close some significant deals along the way.

She had already made a pass, touching my leg under the table, right there in the coffee shop while we were going over business. However as the weeks passed, my resilience and my state of bachelor-syndrome caught up with me. She wore me down and I gave in. This woman really wanted some of this dick! I remember bringing the RV to my client’s home; a Fathers Day barbecue-event I had been hired to film. Running in and out of the RV for equipment, to offload video footage or to charge batteries me and Ophelia to constantly cross paths. She came along because I invited her to bring her and her little boy along. And then there was that moment when she was sitting close to the exit of the RV and she stole a kiss. I have been 1000% honest in this testimony, and this interaction is also the truth: for the first time in my life a woman stole a kiss from me! LOL!!! Not only was that super ironic and impressive all at once, but my pretend anger faded into the night. Ophelia made it clear that she wanted me; and she subsequently supported it with a $10,000 investment into my new company! Whoa! She said something about a 401(k) that wasn’t being put to good use and her wanting to “bring more to the table.”

Again with my pregnant pause; “Okay!?”

And for three or four months, I was now faced with a new reality; a woman who in her early 40s (my so-called age range, according to a close friend) had an axe to grind. Meanwhile she was also jaded from some failed past relationship with her baby-daddy. Yet that scar did not stop her from also hunting for a that next man in her life. I get it. And I inevitably got it.

 Sex with Ophelia left no stone unturned and felt like she had something to prove. Perhaps it was her knowing that my last girlfriend was 10 years younger than her? Perhaps it was all of these young women who I worked with as actresses and so on and so forth. Whatever the case, Ophelia was on a “swallow or die” rampage. It was reminiscent of my relationship with Rose. It was reminiscent of my earlier relationships at 19. And later in my early 20’s or 30’s. I don’t know if there’s a target on my head or that I’m listed in some kind of “suck-him-off registry” but once again here’s my epic shoulder shrug.

“How can you blame me?”

“Waddaya want me to do?”

“Hey, i can’t help it. I’m just a man?”

I kid you not; Ophelia had this love for TuPac and Hiphop, and that sort of allowed me some transparency into her psyche. I mean the rappers and singers perform this shit and you ladies chant it all day like these are some kinda bible verses. Even the R&B divas and crooners do the same. Who can forget Destinys Child praising thugs that carry big things, and later Beyonce chirping about giving oral pleasures in the rear of the limo.  And this is not to shame The artists who sing or rap this content; just saying that the access to it all has moved and inspired and encouraged generation of impressionable fans (and the so called “culture”to practice and agree with the routine. 

So it’s to be expected that the fans also dreamed, imagined and thought about practicing it. (My shoulder shrug goes here). But what took the cake was when I found a little  unpublished  blog post Ophelia kept on her password-protected MacBook. The Word doc explained her perspective on how sucking a man’s dick, and doing it to completion was something she wanted to enjoy and practice with “the right man.” It went so deep as to explain how swallowing a man’s semen was some show of extreme love, passion and devotion.  It was signed by her and it left me with the insight of a man who’d discovered his lover’s hidden diary. But would I take advantage of that “inside information?” That “exclusive intelligence?” Naw! OF COURSE NOT! Who do you think I am?! And inside trader? What do you take me for, an opportunist? But then again, who am I to deprive a woman of her hidden desires? 😳 That, my friend (before you twist your face at me) was nothing less than getting the inside scoop and then acting on it. But then isn’t that Rule #1? Give a woman what she wants. 

And can I tell you that Ophelia had some demands that worked that last drop of cum from my body. The many occasions that we left the coffee shop on these 30 or 60 minute “time outs” were legendary. By the time Ophelia and I were in our exclusive relationship I had already worked this magic scenario on my own, convincing one woman or another that a trek all the way to Conyers (from wherever) was worth the hour-long bus trip or car pool. Women came from as far as California (and of course everywhere in Atlanta) to see me. We’d have coffee and conversation that weighed heavy on my social media and text game. Together with whatever influence I’d earned and the sexy one-on-one conversations, my leveraging was all about one thing and one thing only: the emancipation of my ejaculation. So by the time Ophelia was in the picture I had it down to a science. 

Even if she was sitting a few tables away, I’d send her a text in response to her constant and sometimes annoying need for sex.

 “Okay, you go first and I’ll be right there. Have your tits exposed and be on your knees by the time I get there…” 

Were these some man-sized shenanigans fueled by my chauvinistic fantasies? Yes. Is this the blueprint of a man with little money and some lame-assed, semi-celebrity appeal taking advantage of a horny woman trying to find her happy spot in the world? Indeed it was. But there’s this part; Ophelia was a grown assed woman, not forced to do shit… out-gunned by a man who used his way-with-words to achieve his happy endings. Did I lure her in like a fish with a hook? I believe I did, as if the natural order of things. No different than you lowering your wife or husband, girlfriend or boyfriend. We all use or spend or sugarcoat something else to get what we want. She was an attractive, physically fit tennis fanatic who was hitting me with these non-stop requests to “step outside.  Sure she had a mind of her own, but it felt more like she was somehow lured-in even if she always had the option to say “no, not interested.” But did she do this, or did she agree with it all?


So, as if we were scheming teenagers trying to sneak out from our parent’s watchful eyes… as if we were hiding in plain sight so the rest of the world wouldn’t find out about our quickies, every now  and then we negotiated this “supply and demand” out there in my mobile home. Yes, this was out in the Starbucks parking lot, unbeknownst to the rest of the world, with me trying not to rock my the vehicle during these submissions, during our grinding. I mean, the endless flow of cars, trucks and traffic in the drive-thru was a constant; all of it crawling past us just ten feet away in convertibles, in the midst of some country music, and everyone knows the drive-thru melody by no: “welcome to Starbucks what can I get for you today?” Yes, all of these different levels of atmosphere serving as the soundtrack while my nasty, selfish give & take played out. It was this crazed conscious mindset I had swirling in my head… my own cloud of thoughts  swirling around in my head that, on one hand, kept me from rocking the boat (or, the RV) and maybe having the police summonsed. Shit, half the world isn’t getting this kind of sex-on-demand, in a public shopping area (so to speak), and really with no strings attached. So I can’t blame folks for being jealous and/or disliking my ways and means. At the same time, I also didn’t wanna risk my relationship with the store, which in turn would separate me from all the friends and clients this Starbucks allegiance blessed me with. On top of all of that, I couldn’t engage for too long. Afterall there was always work to be done, projects to complete. And if not, there were sales to be pursued so that there would continue to be work and projects. I had to keep all of this in mind if I was gonna stay productive and in pursuit of my life-sized passions, except I couldn’t shake off this other throbbing, life-sized desire. And still, I couldn’t shake this real-time, hands-on female energy working beside me as a business partner… a woman so damned  RELENTLESS, who without hesitation was dropping to her knees to pleasure me time and again. Add to that, I had become an expert at receiving all this joy while holding back my own loud and rambunctious animal tendencies. Hell, people had their windows down, antennas up, country music playing as they starved for their next cup of coffee! That’s a lot of imaginations on high alert!

Many times, when I was hitting it from behind, I had my strong grip on Ophelia’s mouth, muffling her unbearable cries. There were other times when my Feise created a vice grip around her neck during the oral sex. And, as if I was testing the distance I could go with this tennis nut, I had learned to palm a woman’s face with both hands/as you would a basketball. Or maybe this was something like a makeshift mask, and that simple act took my mind to another place, as though it didn’t matter what woman’s face I had hidden in my grasp. In this position I could imagine most any woman from past as well as any woman who I might of dreamed about. I guess I’m a brother with a twisted sense of reality, right? 

But check it: even in light of my outrageous sexual overtones, there were also times I had to say no. I had to turn down some of these time-outs of hers because it would interrupt my workflow and suck me dry of my personal energy. Shit, all this sex meant the need for more than hot coffee and a bagel. The diet had to be right. There had to be enough sleep. And more than anything else it was tough to be pulled away from work I had to do. If I wasn’t working I wasn’t making money. If I wasn’t making money I wasn’t feeling the progress. It would pull the focus out of me. Listen to Kanye West tell it; rapping in “This Way”: “ I dont know what’s better, gettin laid or gettin paid. I just know when I’m gettin one, the other’s gettin away

 Sheesh! A man’s got to maintain some kind of work ethic to stay in business…  to stay, well, afloat. As I always say, “No money, no honey.”   Right?

 So was I right when I suggested, “this is a movie?”

My kiss and tell testimony takes another turn with Chrys who I din meet in STARBUCKS, But like Rose, I met Chrys “on set” it was actually in a hotel lobby that we met, where I took a break from filming for a client. A client who I met (guess where, I’ll wait…) Yup. Its this one degree of separation with all that I’ve been up to lately. One  degree of separation from Starbucks. 

And different than the previous relationships, Chrystal was living in  a “real” traditional family setting. She wasn’t in between housing like Rose had been. She hadn’t been evicted from her baby daddy’s life such that Ophelia told me about. No, Chrystal was living with a supportive family. Even if they were all running to their own bedrooms, secluded in their own worlds except for seeing one another in passing… or on lil family outings. It was stil considered a family, and there’s always that resource when folks agree with, have faith in, and practice the idea of “Family First.”

 Well, when I met Chrys it was in that hotel lobby. Prince sang: “i knew a girl named Nikki, I guess you could say she was a sex fiend, I met her in a hotel lobby…” Exactly. She was idling there, admiring some signage that promoted the reason she’d come to the Marriot in the first place.  I took one look at this woman and I was sucked-in. I made myself known. She was open and receptive. In record time she explained that she was there with her mother promoting their family business. At once and most authentically, I exclaimed how necessary it was to meet her mom. And then that happened.  Things got a little deeper when she told me she was from around my way, back in New York. So, I imagined we were definitely meant to be! Indeed, Chrystal swept my heart away! And then the calls and text messages progressed. And then there was that first date at a fashion show where I was partially working, but able to film from where I sat.

Thing is, where the relationships leading up to Chrys we’re all stapled with sex just weeks after our meeting, Chrys and I didn’t arrive at that junction until nearly 5 months of constant contact, dates and those almighty xoxo texts. With this woman I can honestly say that my intention was marriage and future and even children. Her attributes included consistence, a super-affectionate touch and a conscious attention to my voice. She was just beginning to dig into business and so my world of experience was helpful and felt good to see her wear my advice. But when I think back to the courtship and intentions, I realize that this is (or was) no different from the others. Even tho sex came easier with the Rose and the Ophelia, I still wanted a future with them. I was all-in from jump. No back-peddling. No wavering. Focused. So when I analyze “me” I can say (despite my demented, disgusting and even at times disturbing) ways that I’ve “conquered” and engaged in this carnal activity, I was still conscious and present and determined to see things through. But Rose? Twisted and money-hungry. I mean, yeah, she wanted it in her ass and satisfied me before heading off to work, but when she randomly said “I’m used to being taken care of…” instead of “baby, we’re a team, and I’m gonna do my part” and when I put that together with her cousin zeroing in on and then getting pregnant by an NFL star… when I couple all that with her momma and how she was so proud of herself for landing a man with good credit who got her this new house and so on and so forth, I realized that this was the family practice! And these were some of the red flags I was ignoring while in the psychosis of her sex. But hey, I’m not mad at their hustle, cuz it’s hard out in these skreetz. It’s just that I saw something different when I met and learned about Chrys. The difference between a self-starter who had means and intentions of her own, and a woman who wanted to be “kept,” was so night and day-obvious. 

But there was something else that lured me to Chrys. Her performance of innocent, insulated black girl was so alluring and believable. I can’t lie I tried to crack that code for a long time and just inevitably said “to hell with it.“ I had to teach her how to give me head. I had to encourage and push her to talk dirty to me during sex. Even when she did talk dirty it was with perfect pronunciation LOL! I mean there was just no cracking this code I had to believe what I was seeing and hearing and experiencing. And truth be told it was all so lovely. 

Most memorable quote from her was “all you need to do is call me and I’ll bring you your pussy“ and I put that to the test and there was just no denying her want and desire to be my partner, my lover and inevitably my wife. I guess I just had to go ahead and believe her story of being one of the last one’s standing: no children, early 30s, pretty as fuck, hot body, head on her shoulders, and attracted to me!? This woman was unbelievably a dream come true; hence the reason I was all in. I mean I said face-to-face with her and said “I don’t think you get it that I want us to be forever.”

But there were occasions when I got the idea that she wasn’t all in; that she didn’t believe what I professed. And quite frankly that back and forth conversation and the feelings and emotions behind it all is the reason we do or don’t subscribe to long-lasting (everlasting) love. At least that’s how I rationalized the break up between me and Chrys. She was not all in; some hesitancy filled the space between us. That and the 40minute distance contributed to a weakening link. And the big red flag that we were over and done with was how she continued to press me for information on how to help her earn greater increase with her branding. She wanted as much of my knowledge and/or as many of my resources as possible before we came to an end. So was a point that I knew we were doomed. Oh yes, and that “family first” element seemed to always interrupt our progress, whether it was the epic event of meeting her “real father“ or the responsibility she took on as a taxicab service for her granny or some other complication. I’m not even mad at her for not taking the deepest dives or making the decisions (or lack thereof) that hurt the bond we had, because again, it was just right and all love, even if for a season. Ophelia was the type of woman who you just could not get mad at. And she had a surprise or two up her sleeves, such as our trip to Florida, and then the real eye-opener was not just her being all-in on having sex in the back of my BMW, perhaps facing arrest for trespassing and indecent exposure. There were also those occasions when I moved locations with my RV to a wooded farm. Ophelia didn’t have a problem going out into the woods and squatting to urinate (in 30 degree weather) since I don’t use the septic system in my RV. I mean what kind of woman would do something like that unless she was down for the long term or, if she had some other lil ulterior motive. No matter, I just know that… well, I just can’t help thinking that we could’ve done better and that she sabotaged the relationship.

In between the Roses, orchids, chrysanthemums were short-lived lilies, daisies and wildflowers. One-night-stands. Quickies. Weekend staycations. It’s a rainstorm of names and faces and memories that were fleeting and enjoyable, if just for the thrill of the chase.  How can I forget the quotes they blurted like “Real women swallow” or when a local, married woman wanted to give me money to help out with my progress; but said to me “all I can afford is $100” before she stripped and sucked and sinned. And what about the time one woman suddenly froze during the grinding and thrusting… in a hotel room, a sudden cramp  stabbed her thigh with a jolting stiff pain and she cried out in a shriek before telling me “it’s been a long time” she explained.

And in every scenario, this was “the one.”  Well quite frankly, she may never be the one. But I always measured my rendezvous’s as wife material or not. This or that woman had all the right stuff, perfect “marriage material.”  Always me trying to build the woman I wanted in my life, rationalizing why this makes sense, why this one will work even if she smokes now and then, and oh my God this is definitely the one, if only she wasn’t such a slob! Wow my best friends who know the stories must’ve laughed every time I made these overtures. And I can honestly say I meant it; these relationship start-ups pulled up my best intentions and best foot forward. So just because I’m doing the most sexually doesn’t mean I can’t be a good man with purpose and goals.

And now that I’ve purged, and now that at least 3 women are going “Oh no he didn’t!” How about if I suggest that this is all a “what if.” And what if this never happened and I was lying all along? How are you dissecting my truth from my lies? How are you analyzing my timelines, my details and the glue (or coffee) that keeps it all together? Most importantly I gotta ask, “but did you die?”

my new reality, one of the best rated bed and breakfasts in atlanta

So here it is years after my flower arrangement, and a year deep into my latest greatest relationship, and again it’s the 30-something with the business mind and the mindset of loving me unconditionally. Again it’s a beautiful woman with a great appetite for me and claims of undying devotion. Hey I’m with it! But at least I’m consistent with what I want in my life? No shame there. The only difference now is this one… this love of mine… this woman who has been everything to me has lasted a year and counting. And no, I did not meet her directly or indirectly relating to Starbucks.  Maybe that was the ultimate determining factor here… finally, I found a life & a love outside of Starbucks.☺️

Relentless

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