I’m weaving a piece of kente cloth. Yellow, white, black, red, green, grey and gold pieces of strings weaving their way to fabricating a masala of sex over the years. Each color has a feel, an emotion, an energy, and a status.

Sometimes my color was white. White for purity and love of the crushing kind. It was the feeling of butterflies and erratic heartbeats. It was exploring and discovering how our young bodies felt with each touch, each kiss, each move, each poke.

It was the kind of sex that brought tears to your eyes. It was white for unconditional love and unselfish sex. White for awkward kisses and the embarrassing faces we make when we feel something for the first time.

Sometimes my color was green. I wanted it all the time. I wanted it so much that I will shiver sometimes at the thought of it. Green was for readiness to go at any time and anywhere.

College was wild and bursting at the sims with others whose colors were as green as mine. That fantasy about wanting an Indian girl? Green checked! That fantasy about trying a threesome? Green checked! That fantasy about screwing a white girl? Green checked. Variety and time was the issue. There was too much sex to be had and not enough time.

Sometimes my color was red. Red for the serious relationship type of sex. Red for the kind of sex where she spent the night and you go for coffee and pancakes in the morning. Red for flowers and candle light dinners followed by an evening of passionate love making. Red was for sex filled with emotions and attachment. Red is sex with that one person I want for life.

Sometimes my color was yellow. Yellow for no strings attached sex and friends with benefits. Yellow was not a GO for a relationship neither was it a STOP for a lack of interest. Yellow was just sex and pure lust; the unchecked and risqué kind. The kind where the girl I just met at the party drags me to the guest bathroom and opens up her world to me. Yellow sex did not come with labels or titles.

Sometimes my color was black. I am on the edge, a bit dangerous and dark. Your heart is not safe with me. My own heart was dark and selfish. Black for vengeful and angry sex. Black for roughing things up because I need to punish one woman for the sins of many. It’s hard pounding and hard hitting with no mercy. My needs are paramount because I’m angry. Her sole purpose was to serve me and my dark desires. Black is not about her. It’s about my dominance and sex is the tip of my spear.

Sometimes my color was grey. Grey was for sadness. Grey was the goodbye sex. The sex is sad because it will not last. Grey is the time when the girl I loved was married off and what could have been, shattered. The last time we have sex is sad and full of regret. Grey is break up sex where screwing is the only thing you both were ever good at. It sad sex which smacks you in the face.

Sometimes my color was gold. Gold was filled with laughter and excitement. Sex in the golden zone is carefree and inhibited. Sex was at the dinner where we turn each other when our eyes met.

Sex was holding hands at the beach, getting turned on but wanting the moment to last as long as possible.

Sex was the foreplay which lasted for more than an hour. Sex was the massage and the cuddling. Sex had nothing to do with reaching the mountain top and everything to do with prolonging the desire.

What color is your sex now?