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Young couple face to face, outdoors, woman looking away, close-up

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Cedrick and I met online, back when Myspace wasn’t laughable and was indeed a legit place to meet a friend, lover, discover a new band or just create a page that was all about you.

He was thick, as if Paul Bunyon was in his family tree. His voice always made me quiver (When was the last time you quivered?). It was deep, always assertive and lively. The way his voice vibrated in my ear would rush a shade of red into my cheeks that every MAC-enthusiast would kill for.

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Cedrick and I would flirt like we were addicted to one another. Good morning texts (if our phones were still alive after marathon chats all night long), daily check-ins to see how the other is doing and the occasional photo-share were all part of our courting.

Sometimes in our conversations, Cedrick would find various ways to bring up men and I would mull over the thought briefly and push it out of my head. When talking about celebrity crushes one evening, Cedrick mentioned his lust for Lauren London and then created a fantasy around her taking him to a Hollywood party, where in various rooms, celebrities like Will and Jada Pinkett Smith, Russell Simmons, Diddy, Rihanna and more were having sex with one another.

Cedrick had this way of creating verbal scenarios that made you feel like you were watching a movie. My mind allowed me to traipse from room to room, taking in the freaky vignettes.

“I slowly opened the door to a room at the end of the hall and in it, I see Diddy and Will Smith naked together, their dicks…” At that moment, I swear a record screeched somewhere. I immediately started tuning Cedrick out.

It wasn’t during the evening on that phone call, but Cedrick and I disconnected and completely lost touch. My memory fails me on what forced us apart, but whatever it was left the door that I usually leave open, closed and padlocked.

Througout our time apart, Cedrick would show up randomly in my online life. LinkedIn would suggest him, Facebook thought I knew him and he’d always end up commenting on a friend of a friend’s random Instagram post. And while seeing Cedrick’s face would stop me in my tracks, I’d always keep scrolling, trying to combat how much I wanted to give him another try (because we all know I’m the mistress of a second chance).

And then, quite recently, Cedrick found his way through that closed and padlocked door. I was scrolling through my messages on my OkCupid app (judge me) and I saw his face. His signature smirk was enhanced by an aged intensity in his eyes. I recognized him immediately and time had been kind to him. He was debonair, but still rocking his natural hair in a funky, coiffed afro.

I smiled at him on my phone’s screen and when I opened the message, the butterflies were instant and his only words were:

“Let’s stop pretending we don’t remember each other and actually be friends.”

That one message reopened our line of communication and Cedrick and I were a thing again. Not sure exactly what we were, but we were like white on rice.

Until we weren’t.

Seven years had gone by and now, Cedrick and I considered ourselves to be grown. Our desperation to find a partner had led us both to dating apps. “At least the people on here are willing to date, ” I told Cedrick when he asked me what I was doing on OKCupid. “I could ask you the same,” I laughed.

“You could, but you didn’t.” Cedrick LOL’ed after his response. Then, he gave me his phone number and we started texting and talking non-stop. Because he now lives in the Midwest and I am in New York City, talking is a major part of our rekindling.

One night, in the wee hours of the morning, Cedrick says, “I just need consistency from you, Danielle.”

I was almost offended. I started to protest the request, then I realized that he was just asking for my time, regularly. That’s something that I’ve been wanting the men who I date to offer and request of me, but no one has. Cedrick was going to be a mature experience, I just knew it.

One night, during one of our many phone sessions, Cedrick suggested that we try phone sex. The thought excited me. The suggestion was vintage enough to feel naughty and intimate enough to feel sexy, so I was down.

Cedrick delivered his sexy talk in the way that I remembered from years prior–detailed, raunchy and … with men!

He talked me into a scenario where I was laying down with my legs spread eagle, enjoying him…enjoying me and then he told me that there was another woman in the fantasy, touching me, licking me. Ok, fine.

I moaned my way through the things he explained he would do to me with his tongue and then, Cedrick said, “There’s a man and his dick is just as big as mine…” My eyes (that were closed in pleasure) popped open.

The phone sex stopped cold, I dried up and with my face screwed up, I asked Cedrick, “Did you say, ‘His dick was bigger than yours?’”

The sexiness of his deep voice faded, “Yeah. I…”

I cut him off, “OMG, it’s all coming back to me now. I stopped talking to you all those years ago because you kept trying to force me into a threesome with you and another man…”

Cedrick went to cut me off, “Danielle, I’m…”

I stopped him, “Wait, let me say this. It’s not an issue that you like men. It’s an issue that you run away from it, only to try to bring it up in sexual fantasies.” I kept going on about how my memories of him were all rushing back into my brain and how I wanted him to hear me out. It was as if I was trying to convince myself that it was fine that he also liked men. But it wasn’t.

Because I like women too, I didn’t want Cedrick to think of me as a hypocite. I wanted him to know that I could understand his fluid sexuality and that it would not be an issue in our relationship.

However, after my jog down memory lane and my mini rant of acceptance, Cedrick hung up from the call and never called me back. I text him and he’ll write back one-word responses: “Yes, No, Thanks, Hi…” All indicative that he wants me to know he’s getting my messages and man enough to respond, but shady enough to respond with subtle venom.

Dating a man, who is not only interested in men, but closeted about that desire is a set up for a lot of resentment, anger and confusion. Cedrick came back into my life with the high hopes that we’d finally become an item and in one memory, I dug up his sticky feelings about his sexuality and he threw me out like garbage. Granted, Cedrick could have had a lot more gripes about me than my questioning of his sexuality, but maybe that was the straw that broke the camel’s back?

I am one of those people who know that both men and women are bisexual, but there’s just something a little less conceivable about a man going back and forth between men and women.

If Cedrick mans up and decides to call me again to re-rekindle what we were developing, I’m wondering if I’d need to woman up to be able to date him? I am dating with the intention of marriage, so I wonder: Could I marry a bisexual man? Could you?

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