Ramblings in Musings

“You know what’s crazy about you, bro?” I could hear the question in the distance “you mad pretty, and niggas glad that you dead in my lap and they got what you had!” And it might of been a hallucination from just eating bananas and quinoa for the past 3 day… but that’s what I heard in my unconscious state and waking up next to Yanni, thirsty as fuck— in reality.

Before I try to explain my fucked up mind, my drunkenness, my weed high, my cocaine high…I want to preface that I have a lot of respect for Yanni, I’ve never met someone like him—like he makes me bring out all of my ghetto out of me; he makes me remind myself that I grew up in the worst projects in Harlem and that he understands my character, cause to him I grew up hella privileged—since he grew up in La Perla in Puerto Rico , and existed in and out of Foster care—awful experiences, but I grew up poor, but in my second grade I knew multiplication and not how to tell if a gun I locked or not. In my 8th grade I didn’t know how to bootleg or scam people so that my baby siblings could eat.
I don’t get mad at Yanni for saying that I grew up privileged…
His experience, his view point of life—I agree, compared to him I’ve lived with a silver spoon in my mouth.
I like that he keeps me humble… I like that he makes fun of my expensive clothing and calls me “rich little cunt”

I like that he works his fucking ass off, because I WANT TO LIVE in a luxury apartment, but he can’t afford it (according to my maths); however, every fucking month he comes up with more than his half of the rent… and he pays for me and somehow he has budgeted to spend on me, but I’m suppose to be “poor and angry, cause I can’t afford it”

Do you know that Yanni bought me these silver Cartier bracelets… and I opened them up and infront of everyone I was like “oh my God thank you so much! These are gorgeous” but he literally knew immediately that he fucked up—bro, I don’t even like Cartier, why waste my money on shit like that..
And he put one of the bracelets on me, that he had to unscrew and then screw shut on my wrist…and he looked at me with this Cartier screwdriver, this douchey Cartier bracelet that I considered a shackle and he said “damn, I fucked up!i know how you feel about Genie in Aladdin!!”

Everyone around us was “soooo for the bracelet (index finger hair twist)” “oh my GOD he like really actually loves you!” A sea of these types of bullshit compliments..

Yanni was upset that he knows me better, and that I’m having a panic attack internally being shackled down in a bracelet, and I’m trying to keep it together for everyone else , but I’m freaking the fuck out that he’s putting a shackle on my wrist. No one else is aware of this.

Just me and Yanni. He was said through gritting his teeth “so you don’t want the other one, right?” And my friends are sitting across from us and I say through gritted teeth “I appreciate this bracelet, I don’t want to be an ingrate Papi, but I don’t like feeling shackled”

I love him. I don’t know if I’m inlove with him, but I love him and respect him.I’ve never dated a man that has tried to not understand me. I’ve also never dated a Latino man that just shrugs at me and tells me off “you’re a rich, little prick.

And I tell him no… and I realize from his life that I am privileged.

I love Yanni. I love him despite how handsome he is… I’m in a different league than he is, he’s handsome and tries to value himself on how many likes he gets on Instagram—and I don’t give two fucks and my social media isn’t me trying to be pretty; it’s of my work or it’s just a really pretty picture.
I’ve told Yanni this—I told him that I get he was a foster kid and life was never good for him, but life wasn’t good for me either and you trying to diminish my struggle because you feel you struggled more, it isn’t the way… also, you trying to spend your savings on me, on jewelry, at that, which, I don’t give a fuck about. He got it..

I don’t know. I really love Yanni… well, it’s half lust and half love, I’d never tell him that—but he makes me so humble, makes me feel so stupid—I just want to bow to him. Dating white men, I’ve always felt like a token, or some sort of atonement… their families would be rich as fuck, and they never understood the value of a dollar.

I dunno, I love Yanni, but it confusing to love him or like him cause as he says “[im a] prissy little bitch [and, I don’t know struggle]” but I have struggled in my life, maybe I had mor access to opportunities that were never allotted to him as an 8 year old or a high school student.

I feel like I’m trying too much to explain why I’m not inlove with him—way too much, which suggests that I am inlove with him.

He’s not rich. He’s not white. He’s not tokenizing me, cause he’s Latino too. I really like him, I love him and I’m just like—“does he like me?”

Fuck!!!
The baggage of being gay! I’m sick of it.

I love Yanni and it fucks me up that we don’t have a label and we had a convo about not having a label and he said “I like you, I only wanna fuck you, take that how you want Andy”

And I said to him the same thing “I like you Yanni and I don’t wanna fuck anyone else”
And he was like “aight. So what’s the issue? ‘Cause I’m not about labels”

I dunno… that day with the ‘no labels’ bullshit we fucked so many times, we ran out of condoms and he was like “I had chlamydia and Gonorrhea and I have hpv” and I was like “I’ve only had hpv and I have herpes simplex-1 is which is a cold sore, but I don’t hurt or break out like that cause it’s literally a cold sore on my butthole and my ex gave it to me from eating my ass during his shed period” and Yanni was like “Babe what that mean, can I put my dick in you bare?” And hes been super free, not using a condom.

I love Yanni. I love his smiles. I love how he puts me in my place. I love his scent. I love how silly he is. I love how caring he is— I just love waking up next to him and feeling he’s not just a body—he’s a person and if I “accidentally” rub against him he wakes up and kisses me and lustfully devours me and when he’s done he’s just like “stop Andy, I got some time to sleep!”

One of the best things about being with a Latino man, and being Latino myself, is that I’m a freak, but he’s so much more kinkier and I never feel like a clown or an anomaly.

Whatever I’m talking to much. Gnight