I met Tiger when I was twenty-one. He was only thirteen at the time; the same age I was when I had my first child – Wyclef, ‘Clef’ for short.
Tiger, which is actually his real name, by the way, was always mature for his age. He seemed to have more sense than the rest of his peers, was studious, focused, and already knew what he wanted to do with his life at a young age. I can’t tell you how thrilled I was to have him befriend my son.
Clef was eight at the time, a bit of a wild child like his father, and in terrible need of a positive male role model. I didn’t care if that role model came in the form of a big brother figure or a father figure. I just wanted my son to have living proof that all men weren’t dogs like his good-for-nothing daddy.
After impregnating me the night I lost my virginity, Clef’s father pretty much didn’t want anything else to do with me. He was only three years older than me and had no intentions of being tied down so young. Nor was he keen on assuming the responsibility of a child.
All fine and well, except for the fact that I was just a kid, too. At least he got to make it to high school. With me just being in middle school, I had no way to take care of myself, much less a baby.
My mother, who was a single parent, too, wanted me to have an abortion. After all, she had three other kids to take care of. When I flat out refused to abort my child, she sent me from
Fortunately, Grandma insisted that I get my high school diploma and take a few secretarial courses at night while I stayed with her, so I was able to take care of my son before and after she passed. Unfortunately, I couldn’t take care of Clef quite as good as before.
Gone was Grandma’s financial contribution to the household. I now had to foot all the bills on my own. Gone was my anytime babysitter. I now had the added expense of daycare and babysitting fees. Thankfully I still had Grandma’s reliable blue sedan and so I had no transportation issues.
Sadly, I eventually had to move out of Grandma’s house. She’d only been a renter all these years and did not own the property. When the landlord wanted to raise the rent, I either had to pay the new rate or leave. I left. I couldn’t afford the rent increase. I was struggling enough as it was trying to make the old rent.
I knew I couldn’t go back to my mother’s house, so I found a place of my own right there in
Unlike Grandma, I was renting to own, which meant the house would be mine if I kept up the payments. Plus, whatever I did it would add value to the property in the long run. The fact that the house was right across the street from Tiger and his grandfather was an added bonus. They were the best neighbors a person could ever hope for.
I sensed Tiger’s crush on me from the start. I figured it was either that or he was even shyer than I was. The boy literally gawked and sputtered out a greeting when his grandfather brought him over to welcome me and Clef into the neighborhood.
I realized it was a bonafide crush when Tiger gave me a red rose the very next day, right before he invited Clef over for a game of kickball. I thought his crush cute. I thought the bold teenager cute, too, but that was as far as it went. I was a grown woman with morals and so I didn’t dare look upon Tiger in that way. Plus, I had learned the hard way how unfair it was to rob someone of their childhood by exposing them to adult situations too soon.
My childhood stopped the instant I learned I was pregnant. I knew I could never get it back. I wasn’t about to try to get it back or catch a pedophile case by dealing with a younger man.
Scratch that. Tiger was a boy.
I made sure to remind myself and him of that every time Tiger did something nice for me, which was often. The cards and flowers on Valentine’s and Mother’s Day, birthday and Christmas gifts, and all the free lawn care were just a few of the things he’d done for me over the last nine years.
Even though Tiger is a grown man now at twenty-two and looks like the handsome actor Pooch Hall’s identical twin brother, I still make sure to remind him of our age differences just in case he ever gets up the nerve to formally proposition me. Thankfully Tiger hasn’t done so thus far, but we did have a close call once on his nineteenth birthday. A very close call.
Fortunately, we were able to avoid getting too far into trouble that night due to my son’s intervention. Even still, I sometimes wonder what would have happened if Clef hadn’t come home at that exact moment.
Would I have finally had my first orgasm that night?
Having lost my virginity at thirteen, I didn’t know much about orgasms or anything else at the time. My first sexual experience was painful, which led to more pain nine months later. I didn’t try again until I was eighteen, and even then, I don’t remember climaxing.
Even now at age thirty, I can’t recall a single time that I actually had an orgasm. I would always get real close, only to be let down when the guy finished first or simply grew tired of trying to help me reach some insurmountable peak I never could quite get to for some reason.
What does that say about the guys I’ve been with up until now? What does that say about me? Sometimes I wonder if I’m frigid. That would explain why my sex life stays on the inactive list, even though men are always propositioning me.
© 2007 by Suprina Frazier/Mi’Chelle Dodson
* * *
To view images of how this couple might look in real life, click on the links below: