Despacito/Slowly in Musings

I went out to this mostly Latino and Black party tonight and I always feel out of place at these events. I’m not Latino enough for the Latino’s and when I go out to white people parties, I’m not white enough for the white people. All shade, although I may look Latino, as soon as they see me not wearing Jordans, Moschino, Fendi or all of those high-end brands that are consumed by minorities, so that they can present themselves as rich, and see me wearing what I wear, they immediately snub me. It’s literally “oh look at that Mexican looking bitch, coming in with her black homeboy, what the fuck is he wearing?—that bourgeoisie bitch”

Whatever. I’ve grown too old to play into their mind fucked games, I did when I was younger and trying to fit in hurt a lot more than just existing as I am. I will never be Latino enough to fit in with the Latinos and the Black guys… and I will never be white enough to fit in with the white people.

I sat on a stool at the bar with my friend and we’re chatting and he’s taken away by some guy. So I’m left alone for a bit, I see a really, really hot—but super ghetto guy— watching me. I don’t pay any mind to him, but I feel his eyes burning into the back of my neck under his fitted cap as he’s sipping his drink. My friend comes back to me and he grabs my hands and they’re playing dembow and I stand up to dance with him. Our hips our snaking, in only the way a Latino boy and a Black boy can move there hips.

Then more pop reggaeton comes on..Shakira and Maluma and we start winding into each other and I kept my peripheral vision watching him and he turned his hat backwards, possibly so that I can catch his glistening green eyes watching me. My friend went off to buy a drink at the bar and then the whitest of the Latino songs with Justin Bieber came on and I started to dance alone and I was drunk and bold and caught his eyes watching me.

I felt my duster and my cowl neck t-shirt slip off of my shoulders. My friend Dwayne was like “Andy! put your clothes on!” and the guy who had been watching me threw his drink back, I smirked and I winked as I danced alone, he walked over to me and grabbed my waist and grinded himself into me.

He held my face in his left hand and pressed his chest into me, holding my waist.
“Tu eres Boricua cierto? (You’re Puerto Rican, aren’t you?)” he pressed his face into my ear, he smelled like weed, bacardi and this weird sweet lust.
I laughed and pulled my duster up over my shoulder and said “Si eso es lo que tu quieres que yo sea (If that’s what you want me to be)” and I grabbed his hand off my waist and held his hand as I danced. “Diantre coño. Tu si que eres Boricua. (God Damn. I fucking know you’re Puerto Rican)” he said wiping his entire mouth and biting his bottom lip and pulling me into him. “So you’re just enough crazy and full sexy” he said holding my neck to his face. “I’m Andres, I may be Puerto Rican or whatever you want. But you can call me Andy” I said smirking, I stopped dancing feeling him pressed onto me as I felt the bar digging on to my back “Let me guess, you’re Puerto Rican” I said as I slid from his grip. “How you know?” he said licking his lips and smiling. “I just can spot a Puerto Rican guy from a mile away” I said as I leaned to get a drink. “OH? Really? What if I say I’m Dominican?” he said pressing himself onto my arm. “You can say that but I bet my life you’re from Puerto Rico” I said giggling. “You’re really sure like that” he laughed “That’s what you think?” “Yeah, only a Puerto Rican man would have watched me like you did and be so bold” I said stirring my drink. “Oh yeah?” he said laughing. “So then only a Puerto Rican, like you, would be so bold to dance, flirt, and watch me, watch them from the side of their eye” he said grabbing a stool and sitting down, pulling me into him. “I bet my life you’re Puerto Rican—what your mom is Puerto Rican right? Only a Puerto Rican can be so provocative without even trying” he said pulling my face into his “Yeah I’m Puerto Rican, been here for 8 months, pero Andres, yo soy Yaniel, tu me puedes llamar Yanni or Papi (but Andres, I’m Yaniel, you can call me Yanni or Papi)” and he winked and laughed, I laughed so hard I snorted.

I don’t know what is going on with Alex. He’s hot. He’s cold. I’m not waiting. I’m moving on. I’m young. I’m fucking hot. I’m successful and if he doesn’t pay me mind, I can pick the guy that’s next in line who’s trying to fuck me or grow with me and is trying to build a future.

I drank with Yanni and I left the bar with him. We took a taxi to Spanish Harlem and I didn’t want to have sex and he didn’t push me. He didn’t try to rip off my clothing or pressure me into anything and we just kissed in his apartment for hours. I felt that my lips were chaffed and my face was all scratched up from his goatee.

I mean I’m not a saint. He did undress down to his boxers and I did get to peep what he was working with, which a bit intimidating. But I didn’t take a single article of clothing off beside my shoes and socks.

He has this really super no bullshit type of swagger, he has this super cool personality—it’s impulsive, passionate and it reminds me of home. It reminds me of my family, it’s like my mother or my brother or my sister—it’s uncensored, if I want to show you love or warmth we don’t need to be alone, I’m ripping you into me and suffocate you in hugs and kisses. He has no censorship. If he thinks I’m being a bitch he tells me straight forward. If he feels like hugging me, kissing me, grabbing my hand, smacking my butt in public, grabbing my crotch—he does it. He doesn’t give a fuck… and I forgot what dating a Latino man was… or rather dating a Puerto Rican man was.

For now it is what it is.... I’ve been writing this for the past two weeks and it’s been on draft. I don’t know what Alex and I are doing. I don’t really pay it any mind anymore. Love me, leave me. I know I’m worth being loved and I’m tired of chasing Alex when he should chase me.

I had a weird conversation with Yanni about Alex and he was like “So you let him beat you, you had restraining orders on him, you’ve given him a chance to reconcile, but he’s hot and cold and you still think that he should be on your list?” he said over dinner “I can’t say I’m the best man out here, but I sure as hell would’ve woken up if I had you kissing my feet, trying to suck my dick” he laughed grabbing my hands and interlocking them into his “speaking of… when you giving me head?” his eye glistened devilishly. “Shut up!” I laughed trying to pull my hand out of his. “Just the tip!” he said pulling my hand and kissing it “My balls hurt and you know that I can get cancer” he said. “You’re dumb” I said pulling away from him “Nah!” he said holding my hand and putting it on his face. “I like hanging out with you. You’re a good guy. “