Love on the Powwow Trail- part 1

I was a fabulous twenty-something single woman living in Lawrence, Kansas when my obsession began with the “Sex and the City” series, featuring single women on the New York dating scene. I attended grad school at KU and avoided my homework by renting SATC DVDs and hosting marathon viewings on the weekends. My friends would come over and waste away the day in front of my 27" Magnavox while watching Carrie Bradshaw make all the same love mistakes we've made at one time or another. It was like we became some kind of secret 'Sex and the City' society unified in our beliefs of love, fashion, and high heels. This show opened my eyes to the excitement of being a single independent woman with so many options to choose from, whether it be fashion, career or love life decisions. I was unaware that my life would soon resemble the tangled love stories of “Sex and the City”.                                     

After graduation, I began my transition away from Lawrence to my hometown in Oklahoma for a job in the real world. I arrived with a fabulous attitude and convinced of my own awesome beauty, style and sexuality. I went to work wearing my 3" Nine West strappy black heels that set off my somewhat trendy little black tube dress and short sleeve cropped cardigan.

When I got to the office I realized that I had overdressed, as usual. A lot of the women did not see the need for anything more than sneakers, jeans and a clean t-shirt. I found myself explaining the dress and heels. They did not understand my love of fashion and viewed my heels as self-inflicted torture devices. They also didn't see the creativity and confidence I felt from my carefully put together outfit. Of course my closest friends understood that I just wanted to

look my best.

This event forced me to recognize the major culture shock I faced upon returning to my community in rural Northeast Oklahoma. The atmosphere was very laid-back at work and in social settings. This contrasted with the fast-paced and edgy college life I left behind. I wanted to adapt so I faced a dilemma every time I went to my closet.

It was during this time of confusion that my heart was left unguarded and as wide open as my walk-in closet. True to “Sex & the City” form, I fell in lust with the first bad boy to cross my path. His name was Derek Kills Night and it seemed like he always had a nod and a smile for me that quickened my heart beat and made my breath go shallow. I saw him every weekend for a month just as the hot summer season began. His friendliness and good humor went along nicely with his impressive biceps and smooth chest. That friendliness soon turned into a bold flirtation that I wanted to ignore. My friends warned me to stay away from him and I sensed his bad intentions right away. He spoke to me with such arrogant confidence that my outrage quickly turned to desire.

"You have an awesome body" he said during our first passionate embrace. For some reason this stands out in my memory along with his mustard flavored kisses. He was trying to eat while wooing me at the same time. I went along with the awkward but heated foreplay. I should have recognized his need to fulfill both hungers as a selfish red flag for a doomed romance. However, his teasing smile and insistent hands soon left me mindless.

The bad boy of my dreams (and later nightmares) thrilled my senses with his long hair and dark eyes. His male dominance excited me as he continued the tortuous love play with his lips, fingers and persistent caresses. He knew that I ached for much more. Inch by slow inch he filled me with his arrogance and overwhelmed my expectations. The intensity of our passion blocked out everything else as I wrapped myself around his masculinity. Several times I found him above, below and beside me. Our energy finally came to an end and we slept.