Black Love Beyond Labels

February carries its own energy.

I've been thinking about how we define love.

Especially Black Love.

The world leans into roses and reservations. Social feeds fill with curated affection. Restaurants glow a little warmer. And somewhere in the middle of all that noise, I was out and about earlier on this Valentine's Day, moving through the world like any other day, my phone lit up.

A message.

Attached was a letter.

From Him.

I had to pause. Fully pause. Because in a world of quick texts and emojis, He took the time to sit down and write words that carried weight. Vulnerability. Adoration. Intention. I stopped in my crocs reading it. The people in the store kept walking around me, still moving, but I was stuck. I felt seen in a way that settles into your bones.

This man brings sexy back in the best way. A letter felt unexpected and affirming. Deeply intentional. It will live in my heart rent free and that right there is the Sticky part. The kind of intimacy and feeling that stays in your body long after the moment passes.

That's Black Love to Me.

Our love stretches across distance. It exists between flights, schedules, responsibilities, family obligations, and life stressors. And still, it breathes.

When we come together, there is softness. We slow down. There is eye contact that says more than paragraphs. We ask intentional questions. We stay present. We listen fully. We learn each other as we go. Safety and care moves through everything.

The safety I experience with him is the most intentional safety and care I've ever felt in my lifetime. That foundation allows trust to thrive. In a long distance love, trust breathes life into everything. I am prioritized, even across distance and stressors. When something needs adjustment, we talk through it without blame. We move forward with needed change.

That is intimacy.

That is agency.

That is reciprocity.

Black love has always required adaptation. Historically, our relationships were shaped by forces outside our control. Families were separated. Legal recognition was denied. Structures were disrupted. And still, love found a way to exist. Black communities expanded the meaning of partnership and family. Kinship extended beyond blood. Care moved collectively. Love stretched beyond paperwork and into practice.

That lineage continues in how we define connection today.

I've outgrown the marriage label. We'll talk about that more at another time. What I know now is that beyond titles, love is defined by openness. It lives beyond #relationshipgoals aesthetics. Understanding the traditional love and marriage structure matters. Those frameworks carry history and meaning. There is also power in communicating your choice to navigate what resonates with you and incorporating what works inside your own created structure.

I've chosen intention over tradition by remaining open to learning. I don't immediately judge what's considered taboo. I learn for understanding. I listen to those who are experienced and educated. Being open to understanding does not mean adopting every practice. It means showing up thoughtfully. From there, tradition, taboo, or a blend of both becomes a conscious choice.

That's grown intimacy.

When i reflect on what love looks like for me right now, it looks like intentional safety and care. It looks like presence. It looks like a man who takes time to write a letter. It looks like difficult conversations handled with maturity. It looks like laughter across airports. It looks like touch that feels grounded. It looks like trust thriving in the space between visits.

Pleasure in this season feels like joy woven into everyday intricacies. It lives in my daily rhythms. When I include pleasure in my everyday life, it naturally translates into my sexual desires and intimacy. My body feels regulated. My nervous system feels safe. My desire flows without force.

And Sticky has been present for me lately. The intimacy lingers after our travels and time together. It echoes in my body. It stays with me. It reminds me that connection can stretch across miles and still feel close.

Black Love is Black Everything. I wouldn't trade it. Thank you, Ancestors.

At SRS, Sweet • Raw • Sticky, I hold all of this gently.

Within this blog, I've answered the following questions and if any of this resonates, I invite you to reflect for yourself:

What labels have you outgrown?
What defines love for you beyond titles?
Where have you chosen intention over tradition?

We're allowed to define our love thoughtfully.

We're allowed to evolve.

We're allowed to learn and choose consciously.

Black love continues to stretch, redefine, and deepen.

And sometimes, it arrives in the form of a handwritten letter that changes your entire day.

Stay Sweet where you can.

Stay Raw where growth calls you.

Let what's real stay Sticky.

Expressively,

Velvet Lenae

P.S. Drop a comment. I'd love to hear your thoughts! And share w/a friend.

NOW ON SUBSTACK

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Black Love, Unboxed

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