Beatrice Dawson is the name. I'm a tall, curvy and dark-skinned, beautiful Black woman in her mid-forties living in the city of Atlanta, Georgia. I am a professor of African-American Literature at Spelman College. These days, life is cool. I recently left my husband Dwight after I caught him cheating on me with a skinny white woman half his age. Twenty years of marriage down the frigging drain. And the sad thing is that I never saw it coming. Seriously. I'm not one of those sexless, arrogant shrews modern men dread being married to. I'm smart, sexy, have my own money and I support my man. I also love sex, and believe in bedroom variety. As long as both partners in the marriage consent to it, of course. Do I sound like the kind of Black woman any Black man in his right mind would ditch?
I have wondered this time and again. What did my husband Dwight's hussy Mandy have that I didn't? She wasn't even pretty. A short, skinny blonde chick who worked as a clerk at the local grocery store. She was pure trash. Average looks, zero education and no money. What did he see in her? I thought our sex life was awesome. I'm very open to the idea of threesomes with my husband and some of our lady friends. I didn't mind sharing my husband with another woman for one night, as long as I knew the woman in question. Our house was a full swinger household. Yeah, we had some truly rocking parties. It's not like I'm one of those females who don't take care of their men's sexual needs yet act all surprised when he cheats on them with some other woman. I'm the kind of wife you dream about.
I am the ideal wife for the Black male professional. Why? Let me count the many reasons. I support my man, I'm not a nagging machine and I love sex. I'm serious. I absolutely love sex. Doggy style. Dick sucking. Pussy licking. Anal sex. Threesomes. Strap-on dildo usage. Even some light bondage. I did it all. All to please my man. So why did Dwight do me like this? I thought we had something special. I guess I'll never know. I made him pay, though. I got my revenge the legal way. I kept the house, the car and our two sons, Zachary and Gregory, who will soon be attending Morehouse College. My ex-husband Dwight kept the bills and his mistress. I'm told they lived for a while in a shanty little apartment somewhere outside of town. It's exactly what they deserve. Not that I'm bitter or anything.
I now embrace the next chapter of my life. The world is mine. I have my own house, my own car and a fantastic career. Life is good. I don't need Dwight or anyone else to make me feel complete. I've got my life, my health, and my career. I've got the love of my two wonderful sons. I don't need some stinking man to break my heart into a trillion pieces all over again. I'll never understand why so many Black men leave beautiful, educated, sexy, supportive and well-to-do Black women for some of the ugliest white women. The sad thing is they're not leaving their Black wife or girlfriend for a pretty white woman. They never do it. They leave a fine sister for the ugliest and palest broad they can find. Why? Maybe it's a guy thing. Maybe I'm not meant to understand. Recently, Dwight came to me saying he made a mistake. I will never forgive him. He had it all, and chose to throw it away. It's his mistake, not mine. I've moved on.
Sometimes, you find love in the last places you'd expect. Without even looking for it, it falls on your lap. Things like these don't just happen. At least not to me. At least that's what I believed, until a certain young woman changed my life. I found myself smitten with one of my students. Atlanta Valentine, a tall, gorgeous young Black woman I ran into in my civics class. This towering beauty named after the South's nicest city was certainly a wonder to behold. Standing five-foot-eleven while barefoot, I consider myself to be pretty tall. Atlanta Valentine stood six-foot-three, and she was a big, beautiful young woman. She weighed around two hundred and forty pounds but she looked good with it. Like one of them WNBA heavyweights.