AfroerotiK

Erotic provocateur, racially-influenced humanist, relentless champion for the oppressed, and facilitator for social change, Scottie Lowe is the brain child, creative genius and the blood, sweat, and tears behind AfroerotiK. Intended to be part academic, part educational, and part sensual, she, yes SHE gave birth to the website to provide people of African descent a place to escape the narrow-mined, stereotypical, limiting and oft-times degrading beliefs that abound about our sexuality. No, not all Black men are driven by lust by white flesh or to create babies and walk away. No, not all Black women are promiscuous welfare queens. And as hard as it may be to believe, no, not all gay Black men are feminine, down low, or HIV positive. Scottie is putting everything on the table to discuss, debate, and dismantle stereotypes in a healthy exchange of ideas. She hopes to provide a more holistic, informed, and enlightened discussion of Black sexuality and dreams of helping couples be more open, honest, and adventurous in their relationships.

Saturday, November 13, 2021

Pathological Truther

 I hate when people tell me that they never lie. Everyone lies.  Everyone lies all day, every day, for things they don't need to lie about. For the better part of 25 years or so, I've worked hard on telling the truth.  It's hard.  It takes effort and thought and diligence.  Everyone in this society lies so much that it's accepted.  


TV has people convinced that lying is difficult and you can always tell if someone is lying by looking at them because liars always stress out and you get nervous and start sweating.  "Hey, murderer pretending to be innocent, let us strap you up to this machine to see if you're lying."  

 

The truth is, people lie so easily it can't be detected.  


I lied last week.  I was talking to someone and I said, "And the reason I know that is . . ." In the short time it took for me to say the words, "And the reason I know that is," I had already calculated in my mind the pros and cons of telling the truth, weighed both options, I reasoned that the outcome would be less problematic if I lied, and I came up with a lie that sounded feasible and didn't miss a beat between the word is and the word because.  


I wasn't planning to lie. By that, I mean, I hadn't started out the conversation with the intention of lying.  I didn't even start out the sentence intending to lie. It wasn't like I had been anticipating the conversation for days and had rehearsed the lie in my mind.  Spur of the moment, at the speed of light, I made up a lie.


I performed at least 6 major thought processes in LESS than a fraction of a second.  


I later confessed and apologized for my lie.  It wasn't about anything big or major or personal.  I lied about HOW I knew that the race war had started already and the media just isn't reporting it.  I told him that I had a submissive white man who was a doctor who gave me the real deal.  LOL, that's dumb a dumb lie now that I think about it.  Why would a white doctor tell me about the efforts of white people to kill people of color?  I didn't want to say, "I'm the recipient of supranatural insights into the Universe." 


I came clean about the lie and the reason I lied.  


I had a few years out of the last 25 where I lied like average people.  I had found my old boss on Facebook.  I wanted to call her and tell her that I loved her.  I loved her in a way that was pure Divine love.  She was racist, horrible, and evil to me when I worked for her.  But she was part of the puzzle that, when put together, make Scottie the woman that she is today.  


I was stressed out and triggered by the concept of calling her and telling her that I wasn't rich and successful.  I couldn't do it.  I couldn't call her and tell her that I was a broke struggling artist who writes erotic stories about Black people. 

That was just too much for me at the time. I felt like a loser.  I wasn't married.  I didn't have kids.  She met me when I was 21.  At close to 50, I wanted her to see me as a home-owning, conforming to societal rules but still creative, middle-class person.  I was ashamed of not being rich.  I was ashamed of being broke and unsuccessful.  I didn't even want to tell her that I had gone to grad school because I didn't want her to have more of a reason to judge me and think I'm a failure in life.  


For at least a full day before I called her, I stressed out over lying.  I figured out my lie and rehearsed it.  I was going to tell her was that I worked with my uncle and we had formed a business where he was a real estate agent and I designed and staged the houses. I had proposed that exact option to my uncle.  I have spent YEARS watching nothing but home improvement shows morning till night.  I used to pretend I had my own HGTV show and I may even had thought of a name of my pretend show. It was the best lie I could tell.  


I called my girlfriend to help me calm my nerves and help me rehearse.  I can almost feel the sensation now.  


I called my old boss.  I told my rehearsed lie, It went off smoothly.  I told her I loved her.  She did not respond or acknowledge me.  She asked me if I was going to come to NY to visit any time soon and that she wanted to see me before she died.  I lied and said maybe.  


The freaky part is, that lie, after that phone call, the floodgates opened, I started, "normal lying."  Normal lying is what what I refer to as the endless string of lies circumstances that recognize that everyone lies because they don't think of it as a lie. Lies do not have to be elaborate like the one I told, lies are a result of living in a society that makes us afraid of being judged.  Lies are the way your brain processes your fear of being judged.  


This society has brainwashed us to lie about everything because we live in constant fear of judgment from other people.  That fear causes people to lie about things that they absolutely don't have to lie about.  For about three years after that incident, I "normal" lied.  Every conversation I had consisted of me not paying attention to what other people said but rather I was anticipating how they were going to  judge me and what I could say to make myself look better to them.  I lied about the stupidest shit possible.  I wasn't abnormal, nothing was wrong with me.  Everyone lies.  


My grandkids made me stop lying again.  I'm on year three of trying to speak truth to power.  I have noticed that since 2021, I'm even more diligent about being honest and apologizing when I'm wrong.  


I remember when I was married a million and two years ago, I told my husband, the one thing I hate most is liars.  "If I can't trust you, we have no relationship."  I told him that if he ever felt unhappy in our marriage, tell me BEFORE he cheated so that we could work on being better or I could walk away with dignity. He didn't.  He cheated and he lied about it. He lied about everything. I thought, at the time, there was something wrong with him. I thought he had some sort of mental defect, like something had happened to him in his life to make him lie about having pizza for lunch when he had Wendy's. It feels like every fight that we had was because he lied.   He lied about everything all the time. 


I thought my ex-husband lied more than normal people.


Turns out, it's not that he lied more than normal people, turns out that I lie less than normal people.  


It's only just in the last few minutes that I just now realize he was normal.  He was normal and lying is normal.  People lie about everything because they fear being judged.  I judged him as some sort of mental illness that made him lie all the time.  My ah-ha moment!  I was viewing him through a lens of being all good or all bad.  


The last big, stressful rehearsed lie that I told, I told to my mother.  Turns out she saw me in the Tuesday other dimensional meeting and she knew I was lying the entire time.  


I cheated on my ex-husband.  It was . . . maybe two or three days  before our marriage ended in a blaze of adultery and pain.  The guy was a UPS driver.  It's possible he may have worked at the same hub as my husband. His name was  Scott and he had a really small dick and he fucked me in the ass in the living room of our condo.  Anyway, I never got a chance to tell my husband that I had cheated because the evidence of his years long affair came to light and my life fell apart.  


We communicated, my ex husband and I, with one another a few years ago.  I asked him why he had done some of the more hurtful things he'd done to me and his answer was, "I don't remember."  He felt guilty.  He thought I still hated him.  I haven't hated him in seems like decades.  


I weighed the option of telling him about my infidelity but there was no point after 30 years.  I would have no problem confessing and apologizing to him if we ever meet face to face again. He doesn't need my apology, I don't feel plagued with guilt.  I would simply like to restore the scales of truth to balance.  I told him that I had forgiven him years and years ago.   I did feel quite guilty for a long time because I cheated on him.  It was my only time cheating. I never cheated on my boyfriend before that. Ever since that time, I've never cheated and I've always lived my my own edicts. (Hmmm, will future generations know what the word integrity means?)


All four of the relationships I've had since my marriage ended have cheated on me.  Ehhh, Emmanuel wasn't really a relationship.  I suspect he cheated on his girlfriends to be with me but I'm not even sure about that. 


White women!  Your husbands are are low key disgusting.  I have dominated white men for 21 years.  I have no idea what percentage are married because white men lie.  But the ones who admit they are married, the ones who tell me that their wives have NO clue what sorts of things really turn them on, they are the ones who are the most deviant men on the planet.  They love to wallow in filth and depravity.  They lie, they lie, they lie, they expect me to believe their lies, they lie and lie and lie some more.  


My most memorable video call was with the married white dude who locked himself in the dog cage in chains and jerked off on the pile of dog turds that he had hidden the key in.  The depths of his depravity repulsed me.  He should not be allowed on the streets, he is a true danger to society. But he's more normal than the white man you see on TV, the one who never cheats and loves his wife.  He presents as a deacon in the church, a pillar of the community type dude and as a great dad and father.  He's not.  Trust me when I say, he absolutely is not.  He makes my flesh crawl.


That takes of lot.  I am not repulsed by men telling me that they are pedophiles, rapists, serial killers, or any other violent/criminal/sexual act. I have learned that our society is much darker than we understand and I acknowledge that far more people are driven by immoral, illegal, unethical, disgusting, disturbing sex than certainly the media tells us.  I've helped someone address their guilt over  his pedophile compulsion.  He is actually a sweet, wonderful man.  I really like him.  (Single).  


I don't see people as all good or all bad anymore.  I look for people who are self-aware.  Own your shit.  That's healthier than the people who deny their shit.  It's infinitely healthier than going out and degrading and castigating people who do things that don't even compare to what you do behind closed doors.  


I have a pleasant and civil relationship with a serial killer who is single and there are 4 or 5 married white men with whom I speak that make my flesh crawl.  To be honest, the single serial killer was far more honest and pleasant to talk to than the married white men who were probably serial killers as well and who just didn't tell me.  


In the spirit of full disclosure, I have masturbated to individuals whose behaviors, actions, and fantasies I find reprehensible but I'm aroused by their willingness to share with me their truth, to let me be their confidant. I'm not conflicted about it because I understand that far more people are dark than light. 


I am sexually aroused by the truth.  I find repulsive and repugnant white men who can confess and tell me their darkest thoughts and fantasies arousing because I'm aroused by white men's depravity.  That's my fetish:  White men's fuckedupness.


I've caught white men in lies and they SWEAR they are telling the truth, and eventually, the confess, sometimes after days of denial, and inevitably, in too many instances to count, after they've acknowledged that they had lied, after they confessed to lying and described to their misdeeds, in many instances they still go right back to asserting the same lie that they already confessed to.  They believe their own lies.  


The people who swear, "I'm not lying, I swear I'm not lying, What would I have to lie about?"  They're lying.  


I'm a pathological truther.  


And, to all those people who say, "I always tell the truth too," I'm going to gently suggest that unless you can show me physical proof: a blog post, a link to a podcast, an article you wrote, show me something that proves that you have spent time contemplating the truth and it's impact on our lives, you're lying.

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