40 - It Is What It Is

     I hate the drive to Boston.  I take that back.  I hate the drive to, in, or near Boston.  The best thing about the drive is the payoff.  If I'm not up to visit Marrianne, Micha or her older sister, I go to see D.
     Boston, to me, is a series of difficult paths.  I need to get two blocks down the street directly in front of me but I can't because it's a one way street.  Now I have to turn left go down a block then turn right and hope there's no construction going on so I can get to my destination.
     What I liked about D is that there was no complicated side street or weird misdirection.  She was as straight as they come.
     "It is what it is.  I don't have time for bullsit." This is typical D.  She was the voluptuous Paris.  D could also make $10 into about $500 in a matter of hours.  Nothing like a little financial wizardry, beautiful face, steel nerves, a mouth like a sailor, and a bad ass Boston accent to make this trip worth while.
     We met in Spain sixteen years ago.  You couldn't really call it a romance because we were too young to understand the complexities of what that would entail but it is something that will last the duration of our lives, provided I don't fuck it up.  This is me.
     She flew in from the west.  With all of the stresses of a new home, new job, new area she needed to come home to air out.  Tonight I was meeting with N, the tall greek goddess, T her younger sister, A the recent divorcee (who I was already warned to be good to), and J, D's former roommate.
     I had met J but tonight was the first time I was meeting T,N, and A so I thought I would be on my best behavior.
     "I have decided to dedicate this year to learning to give the perfect oral."  I announced to the women after downing my second shot of Jager.  There was a certain silence in our little circle.  I looked over at D and saw a little smile cut across her face.
     It is what it is I thought to myself.  No time for the bullshit.
That Beautiful Black Man