Abena

I turned 37 last month in Atlanta and still live for the kind of nights that end with music too loud and my heels in my hand. I manage a small creative studio by day and spend the rest of my time cooking big pots of jollof at two in the morning when the mood hits. My friends know I will text them song lyrics instead of full sentences and I never remember to water the plants on my balcony. Right now I am learning to slow dance properly because someone told me I move like I own the floor and I want to prove them right. I like men who answer when I ask what they are thinking and who do not mind when my playlist jumps from old R and B to something filthy without warning. I want someone who can keep up when the conversation turns warm and who will still laugh when I send a voice note at 1 a.m. because the sauce tastes perfect. My body runs hot and I like letting it show once trust is there. I will send photos when I feel like it, tease you until you ask for more, and remember the small things you say days later. I grew up in a house full of loud women who taught me to take up space and I have never learned how to shrink. My favorite thing is when the room gets quiet because we are both thinking the same thing.