Encontre seu próximo livro favorito

Torne'se membro hoje e leia gratuitamente por 30 dias.
Pillow Talk: Essential Conversations for a Lasting Relationship

Pillow Talk: Essential Conversations for a Lasting Relationship

Ler amostra

Pillow Talk: Essential Conversations for a Lasting Relationship

119 página
1 hora
Lançado em:
Sep 3, 2010


If you are single, chances are you are at a place where you are tired of settling and you are finally ready to find the man or woman of your dreams. However, is your approach getting you closer to your goal or are you just spinning your wheels? Pillow Talk exposes methods singles employ in their attempt to secure lasting love. And while the dating game is nothing new, the rules of engagement have become much, more complex. In his book, Ottley exposes the futile, paradox of enlisting short term approaches to long-lasting love. Carefully exposing hidden thought patterns and motives of the heart, Ottley dismantles the faulty premise that dating is built upon. Then, like a master-craftsman, Ottley carefully and candidly lays bare the steps towards how singles can develop a fulfilling, rewarding, and reciprocal relationship that is well worth the wait!
Lançado em:
Sep 3, 2010

Sobre o autor

Jason Alexander Ottley represents a number of unspoken American heroes. He stands on the shoulders of every man and woman who has experienced hurt and disappointment, while emerging to a disposition of victory and triumph. As the eldest son he brings to us the harsh realities of a young man that was forced into familial leadership at an early age, experiencing trial and error.  As an educator, he exposes us to the tools that are necessary for success and growth beyond the healing that takes place in our personal lives. As a minister, he connects our present day experiences to the spiritual realities that constantly invade our thoughts and emotions. As a man, he reveals, with all honesty, the true intentions of every male that cautiously enters a relationship, realizing that the barriers that he hides behind simply serve as walls of brokenness that are just as vulnerable as the woman on the other side of that wall.

Relacionado a Pillow Talk

Livros relacionados
Artigos relacionados

Amostra do Livro

Pillow Talk - Jason Alexander Ottley


© 2010, 2011 by Jason Alexander Ottley. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

First published by AuthorHouse 07/15/2011

ISBN: 978-1-4520-5974-7 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4520-5975-4 (dj)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2010910747

Printed in the United States of America

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.





Don’t Send Out the Invitations Yet


5’5" With Brown Eyes


As Is






Unfinished Business




This book is dedicated to my father, Alford H. Ottley. His dedicated personality is contagious and has allowed me to tap into my greatest potential.


Thank you to all the women who have allowed me to be part of your lives. You have inspired me to be better.

Thank you to Niessie Smith, Valencia Anderson, Deb Barr, and, Stacy Price whose editing critiques has made this book possible.


Don’t Send Out the Invitations Yet

We had just broken up for the second time. Why couldn’t we work things out? Was I being stubborn or was she unwilling to let go of the past? We lived nearly 500 highway miles apart, and making trips to the airport twice a month was becoming more laborious than enticing. Both of our families supported the idea of us being together. I had just landed a good job and she was finishing school so we felt confident about mapping out a course for our future dreams and aspirations. We attended church together, traveled together, and enjoyed dining together in upscale restaurants. Whenever she was in town, we made the best of our time by virtually living, breathing, and soaking up as much of each other’s presence as was humanly possible. However, the challenges of our long-distance relationship were beginning to take a toll on me. Before long, I found myself falling prey to the allure of entertaining other women in her absence. As bizarre as this may sound, I certainly did not desire the other women like I desired her, but each of the other women possessed something that reminded me of the affection and love that she showed me when we were together. Thus, in an effort to manage my longings for her, I looked for her in others when we were apart. In my mind, I justified them as simple substitutes until I could reclaim the original. I was wrong and she deserved better. It was definitely time to reclaim the original, but guilt was gnawing at my heart.

Baby, what would you like? I asked tenderly. Her soft, hazel eyes and intoxicating smile . . . oooh, I missed her so much. I’ll take the #8, 6-count with lemonade, she said.

We were almost to my house and I could not wait to get home. We were stuck in a lot of traffic leaving the airport and were both anxious to get home and be consumed by one another. She had just completed her last final exam, and I knew she was mentally drained. I reached for my cell phone and turned it off. My baby was home, and for the next three days and two nights, her voice was the only voice I wanted to hear.

As we approached my driveway, I noticed that I had failed to turn the outside light on before I left. I guess I did not anticipate getting home after dark. Baby, stay here while I run inside and turn the lights on, I said. The smell of freshly cut grass tickled my nostrils as I fumbled in my pocket for my house keys. I pressed play on the stereo and let Maxwell set the mood for a much-anticipated evening. The car light came on and she slowly made her way to the front door. Baby, I’m going to go use the bathroom; I’ve been holding it since I was on the plane, she said. Okay sweetie. Let me grab your bags and I’ll meet you inside, I said.

As I walked to the car to collect the rest of her things, I began wondering when I should begin that conversation with her. I rehearsed what I wanted to say to her over and over again in my mind so that I could actually say it backwards if I had to . . .

Sweetie . . . there were days I longed to sit and talk to you about my day, but you were nowhere to be found. Days when my frustrations grew so high and I needed you to place your tiny hands on the small of my back and tell me everything would work out. Moments when the world, which confessed it loved me, would turn its back on me, leaving me in a room full of backbiting people laughing at me in disgust. When I looked for the escape hatch of your heart, you were nowhere to be found. I didn’t know how to fight without you by my side. Because I was not strong enough alone, I searched for temporary love to pacify me until you returned. Moments shared with them were never meant to take your place, but I realize now that the more I gave them what I needed to give you, the further and further apart we grew. What my mind wanted and what my heart was feeling, were found on two different musical chords. What I want, and have always wanted, is you. I messed up BIG, but I had to tell you because I cannot keep living with this guilt in my heart. Will you forgive me?

Now that was the poetic version. I wondered if I should cut to the chase, be blunt, and wait to see what happens. I rehearsed the blunt version as well…

Baby, while you have been away I have been seeing another woman. It started just sending occasional text messages. Then we began talking on the phone, going to the movies on occasion, and even having dinner. Now, I know what you are thinking . . . NO, I did not sleep with her. Yes, I kissed her. I was wrong and I am sharing this with you hoping that you can forgive me.

I was not sure which version to use, but whatever version came out when I started talking was the one I was going to use. As I shut the door, I could hear the running of water in the bathroom upstairs. As I made my way upstairs, she met me at the top of the stairs with a kiss. All I wanted was to retrace the steps to the bedroom we had taken in the past, but I couldn’t. My heart was heavy, all I could think about was sharing with her how selfish, and inconsiderate I had been.

Baby, I need to tell you something, I said. The somber look that quickly took over her faithful countenance made me feel even worse. I grabbed her hand and walked over to my bed. It did not go well. I had never before been so verbally berated and insulted by anyone. Ever! I certainly deserved her wrath, but not to be called something other than my name. Her words were extremely painful and they shot right through my pride as a man. I couldn’t hash it out with her while feeling attacked and disrespected in my own house. It was a little cool outside, so I grabbed my light jacket out of the closet and headed down the steps. I could hear her yelling, Where are you going? Are you just going to leave me here like this? I did not stay long enough to hear what she was saying and her words were becoming more and more jumbled as I made my way out the door and into my car. I was crossing the Woodrow Wilson Bridge before I knew it. Still steaming, I was driving in the direction of nowhere. I played her words over and over in my head like a broken 8 track. Yes, I was wrong, but did I deserve to be spoken to like that? NO. No one deserves to be spoken to like that . . . ever! Especially after I humbled myself and had been honest about something that I could have easily hidden from her.

Riding with all the windows down, I desperately searched for peace. The cool breeze was the only refreshing thing in my chaotic world that night. A low sound broke through my intense thoughts. My phone was buzzing in my coat pocket. She was calling. I pressed the ignore button and the call went straight to voicemail. She called again. Again, I selected the ignore button. She continued calling and after about the eighth call, I finally decided to answer. All I could hear were her sobs and sniffles. Slow down, what are you trying to say, I said. I-I-I need you to come home, she whispered. In frustration and over the sound of the rustling night breeze, I yelled back, I’m out clearing my head and I will be home later. She insisted I

Você chegou ao final desta amostra. Inscreva-se para ler mais!
Página 1 de 1


O que as pessoas pensam sobre Pillow Talk

0 avaliações / 0 Análises
O que você acha?
Classificação: 0 de 5 estrelas

Avaliações de leitores