Island Soul City Dreams

I Love That Dick

“It’s like his dick talked to me.” (Google Images)

There’s a scene in one of my favorite movies, “Love Jones,” where the character Nina played by Nia Long says to her friend Josie (Lisa Nicole Carson): “It’s like his dick talked to me.” This quote best sums up the effect a certain man has on me. He has a way of reaching deep inside of me, of touching me in ways and evoking feelings like no other. He’s the type that keeps me up all night, going at it for hours and the more I get, the more I want. I never tire of anything he has to offer. With him, it’s an art; when he puts it on me, it’s like everything is perfectly scripted, flawlessly dramatized; couldn’t be better executed. I lie there, or sit, sometimes stand depending on the hold he has on me and in those moments, I become lost in his world.

A few have come close, but no other man has consistently or for as many years as he has, connected with me on all these levels. He, this man, this “Dick,” is one of a kind. This is no common dick, this is what my Bajan and by extension Caribbean people would refer to as “a proper Dick,” so yes, I have to capitalize. It’s the kind of Dick you want to sing about to all your girlfriends, the kind you wish you could tell your mother about, the kind that makes you scream, smile, the kind that makes you cry because it’s so damn good. It’s also a Dick that’s married.

Let me first say that I never deliberately sought out anyone’s husband, or as we West Indians say, I wasn’t trying to “horn di man wife”.  I assure you, by the time you’ve finished reading this story, you’ll agree that I am blameless as far as being an adulteress. He first caught my attention when I was in my early 20’s, and still living in my homeland Barbados. He was perhaps at the prime of his career, well known in his field, some may even say famous, and it seems like everything he touched was turning into gold. With his growing success, he was creating a name for himself, history even. People were being drawn to him and the stellar work he was doing, and I was no exception.

He was a bit older and wiser, known to be quite the intellect. In fact, he boasted an Ivy-League education. And it’s no secret that I’m a sucker for a “brainiac.”  I was young, inexperienced, and adventurous, and like a true reporter, curious, made even more so when he said things like, “. . . At 23; you haven’t experienced anything . . .” I paid attention, enough to know what he was about and what he was doing career-wise, but I kept my distance. That is, until I moved to New York. Turned out, I’d relocated to the city that he had for many years called home, a city he apparently still frequented, a city where he often worked, a city where this island girl came to experience that Dick like never before.

It was a violently cold winter night, the heart of cuffing season and I had no one to cuff. I turned my television on and started surfing channels. I paused at a show I’d seen before, but not this episode. It had an interesting storyline, so I continued watching and there at the end, when the moral of the story was sinking in, lo and behold he popped up on my TV screen! It’s as if he appeared in those few seconds to say, “Here’s some therapy.” Like he was trying to say that a show like that was what I needed to help me through some of the lonely, frustrating or sleepless nights when I’m driving myself crazy with thoughts of my dream job hunt, single life and unfulfilled journalistic dreams.

It’s as if he was sending the message that despite any negative review, television was still an inimitable showcase of artistry, a powerful tool for telling stories, stories about real life situations, positively affecting real people. It’s as if he was trying to tell me to be inspired by those stories, to keep writing my own stories. That similarly to what I’d just watched and felt; perhaps someday one of my stories could also reach the right person at the right time. And in and from that moment, he stole a piece of my heart.

As I write now, it’s after 1 a.m. and I’m in the afterglow of some of that amazing Dick. I’m pretty sure I’ll get some more in about an hour’s time. He not only keeps me up for hours as I mentioned earlier, but also at odd hours. Not to be tangential, but last Tuesday night, I watched “Chicago Fire,” and on Wednesday night, I watched “Law & Order: Special Victims Unit (SVU),” followed by “Chicago PD.” Then I pretty much surfed between channels USA and TNT watching old episodes of whichever “Law & Order” series I could find. I always savor the thrill I get from these shows, I take great delight in trying to figure out, “Who did it?” I relish how these shows take me through every emotion from happy to angry, to sad, to relief, fear, shock, empathy, and sympathy, to feeling sorry for mankind, only for that pity to be overcome by my hope for this world.

For all the aforementioned reasons, I cannot stop singing the praises of the genius behind several of my all-time favorite television shows, from Miami Vice to Hill Street Blues, to all five of the US television Law & Order series, to the more recent Chicago Fire and Chicago PD. So, yes, I love that “Dick,” as in Richard Anthony Wolf better known as Dick Wolf – television writer, director, executive producer, and creator extraordinaire. Don’t you just love that Dick  too?

 ~ I Keep it Irie ~

TV Genius: Richard Anthony “Dick” Wolf. (Google Images)