It was easy to fall out of love with Willis Williams, Esq. Despite his charm, I kept our relationship on the level of sexual partners and nothing more. I used him for as long as I could. He was an attorney and I seem to always need one in my corner. I met him at a dance club in midtown Manhattan in 2001. We last looked one another in the eyes on September 11, 2001.
He invited me to a ceremony in Washington, D.C. when he was officially made an attorney. We had sex only four or five times before the invitation was offered, but I sensed he liked me. He was sworn into the District of Columbia Bar at a ceremony inside the United States Supreme Court. Willis’s mother could not make the ceremony. She lived in Chicago and was a busy psychologist, Willis explained.
“Where are your friends and family?” I asked as we sat down in the front row of the courthouse.
“This is really not a big deal. It is just a ceremony. My mother came to my graduation,” he explained. “I am so into you, Charles, you just don’t understand.”
I understood perfectly. I know his type—the role reversal kind—successful black men who are into rough-looking, bad-ass, whiteboys such as myself. There were so many of his kind in my life before September 11– ‘successful black men’. And to think he was so much younger than me with so much going for him, yet, he wanted a relationship with a simple guy, like me. Why was he so strung out like that when he was so handsome and could have won over anyone with his pretty red lips and perfect white teeth? He seemed so sad, so very sad he was with that little cock of his. All the black sissies must have made fun of his little dick, so Willis decided a white boy would be most appropriate lover for himself.
I was there by his side when he graduated. I shined up like a new penny when in the suit he loaned me on the day of his swearing-in. The suit was surprisingly a perfect fit, despite the length of the pants. The thought of entering a new relationship excited me, especially since he had so many nice clothes that fit me almost perfectly. Willis wasn’t hung to the knees.
Willis was a little too clean-cut for my taste in men. Yes, he was Black, and I’ve never gone back, but he was high-yellow, as they say. It may have worked for someone else into such things, but he had the smallest cock I ever let up my ass.
He was moving from D.C. the day after his graduation and needed someone to help him move his large wardrobe and cheap college kid furniture into a U-Haul. I drove his car, following the orange and white truck all the way to New York City in heavy rush hour traffic. I had a driver’s licenses and because we were trying to develop a more serious relationship, I agreed to give him a hand in moving to New York.
He promised me an E pill when we got home.
I decided that I would never ‘marry’ him as I drove his car all the way back to New York. We stopped to get gas along a stretch of interstate highway. I wanted to get a cup of Starbuck’s coffee from a store next to the gas station. “We don’t have the time, Charles. I want to beat rush hour traffic in New York.”
After we carried his bed, sofa and other furniture up three flights of stairs inside his new apartment, I gave him the keys to his car and told him that I needed some time away.
Several weeks later, on the morning of September 11, 2001, Willis showed up at my apartment at 7:30 a.m., demanding a pink dress shirt he had left behind at my place on a hot Friday night in July.
I had the shirt professionally dry cleaned, intending to keep it for myself.
Willis noted, “It was so nice of you to have it cleaned for me.”
“I was going to keep it,” I explained, showing him out the door. The sky in Harlem was pefect, pastel blue. I watched as the queen marched down 121st Street with her tail between her legs.
The day seemed so perfect.