Last week I traveled to celebrate my cousin’s nuptials, hosted by the bride’s family. As we drove there, my other cousin suggested we stop at the liquor store and pick up a bottle of something. (Just for clarification, we were headed to a backyard cookout, not like a reception hall. Although also for clarification that probably wouldn't have made a difference. LOL!) I told him that might not be a wise choice seeing as how this wasn’t our family. And we didn’t know how they got down. My cousin called our cousin the groom, to see what was up. He said there was some alcohol there, but if we wanted something in particular, we should bring it. My cousin was all, “alright! Liquor store!” I nixed that idea. “Let’s just go on,” I said.
It didn’t really matter to my cousin because he had been drinking all day anyway. We arrived to the function and I watched him continue to drink the little bit of alcohol that they did have - that strangely (we'll see why I feel that way in a moment) was kept out of sight from us guests, and doled out in small dosages. And then cousin suggested we keep the party going and hit a bar. We did. But he hit it harder than all of us – throwing back Long Island Iced Teas (what is this college?) and beers alternately.
I watched in awe, overcome by a feeling of fear and sadness. As my cousin slurred words. Fought back droopy eyelids. And nodded off in the car – I fast forwarded 30 years from now. I saw my great uncles in him. Hardworking men during the week who drink even harder during the weekends. But always make it to work on time on Monday. Functioning alcoholics, is what they call them.
As the night progressed my cousin revealed that some chick he was shamelessly tryna talk to at the wedding celebration said she didn’t drink. So he had to keep it moving. “What the fuss,” I asked aloud. Who knew that was a valid reason to nix what was probably gonna be a one night stand? Oh wait. Maybe that’s why. Heh. “I’m saying, don’t you drink every night,” he questioned. “Uhhh…no,” I said. “Oh I do. A beer. Or a glass of wine with dinner. Something every night though.” “Oh,” I said, shaking my head in disapproval.
But the truth, if I allowed myself to be honest with myself, is that there have been times when I have probably, no most definitely, had a drink every night – whether out of a feeling of necessity or habit. And that has been me hitting the bar harder than anyone I came in there with. And that has been me with glassy eyes, incoherent statements, and horrible, horrible morning afters.
There are plenty of scary things in this world, but one of them has got to be being born into (and subsequently raised in) a family prone to and wrecked by addiction. People whose families don’t drink don’t truly understand what you grew up with and around.
That there is always alcohol. At everything. Funerals. Weddings. Cookouts. Christmases. Family reunions. In flasks and pocketbooks. Brown paper bags and coolers. Front and center on tables and hidden in closets. With spades games and fried fish. To ease the grieving process. And to makes sure everyone is having a good time. That it is a badge of honor to be able to hold your liquor. A rite of passage to have your first taste.
Along the family spectrum there are some people who don’t drink at all because they have observed the dark side. Some drink a little. Some way too much. Some no longer because they have been that dark side and are now recovering. But there is always alcohol. At everything.
And it is understood. And expected. And consumed. Whether while alone in bedrooms. Or together around the table. Because there is a deep, private pain that only the bottle soothes. And there is a muted shame among those who know they drink too much, but can’t stop. There are those who serve as cautionary tales, who were conquered by the foe, who let the bottle take them down the rabbit hole and they had to go through hell to be able to see daylight again. As you get older and become more aware, it becomes a scary thing to witness and acknowledge - while you find your own self constantly attempting to walk, shooot to just balance even, on the tightrope of addiction.
And there are times when the truth is spoken in hushed tones or tongue-in-cheek jokes followed by nervous laughter. That we are a family of drinkers. (Because no one would dare say alcoholic) These words are suspended in the air for a moment and are then crammed back down throats and deep into psyches. And the very real cycle of addiction gets excused by the banalities of life of: paying bills, raising kids, working two jobs, keeping a roof over your head, going to school, just trying to make it, getting married, finishing school, just living and breathing. After all of that you need. No, you deserve a drink. Or two. Or three. To help slay your personal dragons. And haunting demons. To allow you to function in this cold, hard world. Plus, it’s not really a problem cause you make it to work on time every Monday...
That’s my time y’all! Happy Rum Punch Friday!
I'm really just posting this cause I love the "blood's thicker than the mud," line... You can also check the live version here, should you wanna see what drug addiction can do! Whew Lawd!
Friday, June 25, 2010
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
New Age Ageist
For the past 5 years at my good government job I have noticed that I am usually the youngest person in the room (I'm also usually the only person of color-but that's a post for another day). Most of us know that this can be either a gift or a gift horse. Youth excuses ignorance, explains impatience and breeds innovation. That’s the gift. Youth also allows people to ignore you and assume that you don’t know nothing about nothing. We have all been the youngest person in the room but gradually this changes.
At my job I have had many a manager say that they are eager to hear the ideas of the newer younger workers only to default to doing things how they always have done them. Mix this with a manager telling my coworker that she hadn’t paid her dues to deserve a promotion. Yet in within the past five years this woman has been promoted and has taken this same manager’s job! Today, a great debate in my department is how we should present the materials for a training session we are having next month. A coworker who is a few years older than I suggested that we give the participants their materials on a USB flash drive. This is a great idea, especially since most of the participants are flying to participate. The older folks in group hemmed and hawed about flash drives. They wanted them to have large three ring binders, so they could have a hard copy of the material and could turn the pages along with the presenter. Huh?! Is it not 2010? Aren't the airlines shaking us down for everything we bring onto their planes? Can we get with the going green/everything is electronic now program? It can be frustrating dealing with people who were alive in the 1940s!
Sometimes you just want the old folks to sit down somewhere so we can more forward…
Then I read on Yahoo news that they are already trying to come up with a name for the next generation. The ones who have always had mobile devices, the internet and only one white president prior to Mr. Obama. As I read on I realized that at some point this no name generation will be in the workforce with me; being innovative and young-and probably wondering when this lady who was alive in the 1980s will go sit down somewhere. And this realization got me to thinking about the aging process. I mean it is inevitable of course, but how does one go about doing it realistically and gracefully? Even now I have to remind myself that by all appearances I am a responsible adult-and though I long for the ease and breeze of childhood those days are over.
I wonder if anyone ever really reconciles this fact. Do 80 year-olds in fact feel like they are 80? I’m sure their physical ailments clue them in, but what about mentally? In my younger days I believed that 30 looked and felt a certain way. Don’t ask me what that was is, because as I near 30 I can’t imagine it feeling any different than how I feel now-yet and still I know that how I feel now is not what I ever imagined. Make sense? Maybe only to me. But these are the things I think about when I see people who are eligible to retire still roaming the halls of my office. Maybe they don't see themselves as old or even as being progress blockers. And what about my 59 year old coworker carrying around a picture from her youth and planning to undergo risky plastic surgery to look better…and feel better about herself. Why should she feel bad about getting older? Yet at the same time I want these older people to get out the way so the younger, more intuned young people can run things! Then I pause and think about how one day it could be me who is standing in the way. Holding on to the past and thinking these young kids don’t know nothing about nothing.
See You In Seven
At my job I have had many a manager say that they are eager to hear the ideas of the newer younger workers only to default to doing things how they always have done them. Mix this with a manager telling my coworker that she hadn’t paid her dues to deserve a promotion. Yet in within the past five years this woman has been promoted and has taken this same manager’s job! Today, a great debate in my department is how we should present the materials for a training session we are having next month. A coworker who is a few years older than I suggested that we give the participants their materials on a USB flash drive. This is a great idea, especially since most of the participants are flying to participate. The older folks in group hemmed and hawed about flash drives. They wanted them to have large three ring binders, so they could have a hard copy of the material and could turn the pages along with the presenter. Huh?! Is it not 2010? Aren't the airlines shaking us down for everything we bring onto their planes? Can we get with the going green/everything is electronic now program? It can be frustrating dealing with people who were alive in the 1940s!
Sometimes you just want the old folks to sit down somewhere so we can more forward…
Then I read on Yahoo news that they are already trying to come up with a name for the next generation. The ones who have always had mobile devices, the internet and only one white president prior to Mr. Obama. As I read on I realized that at some point this no name generation will be in the workforce with me; being innovative and young-and probably wondering when this lady who was alive in the 1980s will go sit down somewhere. And this realization got me to thinking about the aging process. I mean it is inevitable of course, but how does one go about doing it realistically and gracefully? Even now I have to remind myself that by all appearances I am a responsible adult-and though I long for the ease and breeze of childhood those days are over.
I wonder if anyone ever really reconciles this fact. Do 80 year-olds in fact feel like they are 80? I’m sure their physical ailments clue them in, but what about mentally? In my younger days I believed that 30 looked and felt a certain way. Don’t ask me what that was is, because as I near 30 I can’t imagine it feeling any different than how I feel now-yet and still I know that how I feel now is not what I ever imagined. Make sense? Maybe only to me. But these are the things I think about when I see people who are eligible to retire still roaming the halls of my office. Maybe they don't see themselves as old or even as being progress blockers. And what about my 59 year old coworker carrying around a picture from her youth and planning to undergo risky plastic surgery to look better…and feel better about herself. Why should she feel bad about getting older? Yet at the same time I want these older people to get out the way so the younger, more intuned young people can run things! Then I pause and think about how one day it could be me who is standing in the way. Holding on to the past and thinking these young kids don’t know nothing about nothing.
See You In Seven
Monday, June 21, 2010
Random Ramblings
1. What would you do if you found out your ex is gay? You hear men take it the hardest, but how do women? Are they just confused? I don't really know anyone who has experienced this... just read stories. For me, keyword here is ex. Who cares? Move on.
2. When work stresses me out... I fantasy shop online for expensive items, like $500 sundresses.
3. Met a lady who dedicates a month of every year to do volunteer work around the clock. That's NICE! Thought about it and maybe I could make that work if I achiveve the "I work 9 months out of the year" schedule, I am working towards.
4. I feel like I should be open to building a relationship with someone but the reality is I am really more interested in being in the studio. (sigh) Hope there aren't any missed opportunities there.
5. WTF!!! WTF!!! BP!!!
6. Noticing that focus and discipline is NO joke!
7. Despite how people feel about Kayne... I love his tracks and I am glad he is back... POWER:
Despite his off the wall personality... you can rely on him to tell you how he really feels. I can dig that! Even if he comes off as an a$$. At least you know who you dealing with unlike some other artist. I rock POWER everyday.
8. Two years ago I said... Art was my soul. Two years later, I know it IS.
Much luv until next week... peace :)
2. When work stresses me out... I fantasy shop online for expensive items, like $500 sundresses.
3. Met a lady who dedicates a month of every year to do volunteer work around the clock. That's NICE! Thought about it and maybe I could make that work if I achiveve the "I work 9 months out of the year" schedule, I am working towards.
4. I feel like I should be open to building a relationship with someone but the reality is I am really more interested in being in the studio. (sigh) Hope there aren't any missed opportunities there.
5. WTF!!! WTF!!! BP!!!
6. Noticing that focus and discipline is NO joke!
7. Despite how people feel about Kayne... I love his tracks and I am glad he is back... POWER:
"Got treasures in my mind but couldn’t open up my own vault,
My childlike creativity, purity and honesty,
Is honestly being prodded by these grown thoughts,
Reality is catchin’ up with me,
Takin’ my inner child,
I’m fighting for it, custody,
With these responsibilities that they entrusted me"
Despite his off the wall personality... you can rely on him to tell you how he really feels. I can dig that! Even if he comes off as an a$$. At least you know who you dealing with unlike some other artist. I rock POWER everyday.
8. Two years ago I said... Art was my soul. Two years later, I know it IS.
Much luv until next week... peace :)
Friday, June 18, 2010
The Land of Make Believe
Long ago my ex and I used to follow Andre 3000’s advice and… do something outta the ordinary, like catch a matinee. For some reason we saw a lot of “romantic” comedies. They were not always my idea. Believe dat. Anywho. I distinctly remember us going to see Deliver Us From Eva featuring Gabrielle Union as the mean Black woman and LL Cool J as the man who can “tame” her.
Well if you’ve never seen the movie (which is no surprise) it’s the same boy meets girl, girl has disdain for boy, he wears her down, they have a blissful montage of laughter, long walks and kisses, they argue or something, she moves away, they are both miserable, and he travels cross the country to win her back. And so he arrives wearing a tuxedo and gliding down a busy ass Chicago street on a wait for it white horse. It was at this point in the movie (not at the other totally non believable parts) when my ex literally threw up his hands. And was all what the fuss? And then he yelled at the screen:
Well if you’ve never seen the movie (which is no surprise) it’s the same boy meets girl, girl has disdain for boy, he wears her down, they have a blissful montage of laughter, long walks and kisses, they argue or something, she moves away, they are both miserable, and he travels cross the country to win her back. And so he arrives wearing a tuxedo and gliding down a busy ass Chicago street on a wait for it white horse. It was at this point in the movie (not at the other totally non believable parts) when my ex literally threw up his hands. And was all what the fuss? And then he yelled at the screen:
Now every Black woman gon’ expect a nygga to show up on a white horse!!!!
[Yeah thank goodness we were at the matinee. Heh]
So yeah the other night I decided to lull myself to sleep by watching Hitch, only I couldn’t sleep and kept wanting to watch. And the whole time I’m like Rum Punch take yo’ ass to sleep because this movies sucks! And then I’d be like oh no it ain’t that bad. And then when the characters started professing their love after like two days together I’d be like NO! NO! NO! It does suck!
There is a never ending conversation about how these movies and fairytales and other nonsense corrupt the young minds of little girls of all colors, creeds, shapes and sizes, who grow up into grown ass women desperately seeking their prince charming at every turn. And that’s why on shows like Say Yes to the Dress they be like, “I have been planning my wedding since I was four years old.” Ummm… Really? Have you?
And the 'The Real, Nah For Real, Sisters Are Doin It For Ourselves So We Don't Need No Rescuin, Ok?' Woman's Council makes it clear that these movies are detrimental to your health. Bad, bad, bad for your psyche. Your overall well being. They stay kickin' the truth to the youth. Keepin it real and funky. Love don't happen in no two days! You can be happy and single. You can, really! And for that Black Women Committee huddled in that corner over there especially, ain't no nygga showin up on a white horse. So, hope you've been putting money away in your IRA.
And so you swear off these types of movies! Or at least paying
But then when you come out of the dark theatre, and turn the pages of real life aka all these wedding stories in the newspapers. And Minty knows them better than I do, but the ones I do see be like: perfect couple met 20 years ago in college. Sometimes they dated. Sometimes they were just good friends. Then they traveled the world separate and apart. Married and divorced other people. And then fate brought them together again whilst working at an orphanage in Siberia. And you be like word?!? That really happens to people? Why that’s the stuff movies are made out of!
And don't let it be Black people with the most romantical story ever! I think everyone saw that PowerPoint email that was goin round of that Black guy who rented out half the Ritz Carlton, had chick's friends from kindergarten, pastor and parents gathered for that surprise wedding proposal. You be like awwww damn!
It’s like damned if you do, damned if you don’t. Don't wanna trust these movies where people fall in love at first sight. But can't really trust these real life stories where he immediately knew she was the one, she wasn’t so sure, she stayed on his mind, and then he did the mostest to woo her. I mean you wanna believe that things can be that easy (seemingly of course, I know it take work - but stay with me people. Ok? Ok!). Effortless. Beautiful. But it's like unicorns. Or mermaids. Or shooting stars. Or nyggas on white horses.
That’s my time y’all! Happy Rum Punch Friday!
Thursday, June 17, 2010
stay so fresh and oh so mf'in clean
if you know me, you know i'm an outkast stan till i die. they the best by far. over a million sold to this day. i have a special love for big boi, being the hometown homie that he is. while everybody fawned over the love below (as they should), i bumped speakerboxx with equal frequency.
so you know i'm so a-cited about the release of sir lucious left foot: the son of chico dusty. it drops july 6th and i can't wait to get it. so far ev-er-re-thang i've heard from the upcoming album is like ragu, it's in there, he's giving you some of the best of him!
like his new joint general patton. smellin' sweeter than a plate of yams with extra syrup. shouts out to the victory bowling lanes making a cameo, a place where i failed to make many a strike.
for more info on big boi go here.
so you know i'm so a-cited about the release of sir lucious left foot: the son of chico dusty. it drops july 6th and i can't wait to get it. so far ev-er-re-thang i've heard from the upcoming album is like ragu, it's in there, he's giving you some of the best of him!
like his new joint general patton. smellin' sweeter than a plate of yams with extra syrup. shouts out to the victory bowling lanes making a cameo, a place where i failed to make many a strike.
for more info on big boi go here.
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
The Best Policy?
We are all familiar with phrase Honesty is the Best Policy. Yet I think it’s safe to say that we have assessed certain situations and discovered that while honesty is a policy it may not always be the best one at the time. Like if someone’s child looks more like a gremlin than a human baby it’s probably best to “Awwww!” and go on about how precious they are, opposed to exclaiming “Daaaaaaaaamn what the *beep* was that thing?!” Riiiiiight? Right. Or even if your homegirl is dating or marrying a flaming homosexual (knods at Star Jones) maybe it’s better to stay mum, because gaydar is not always accurate. But what policy should we adopt with is comes to adopted children?
Generally speaking I think adoption is a great idea! Be it a road, a grandparent, a puppy or a person. I can’t even convey here how excited I was when my parents were considering adopting a boy a couple years younger than I! As an only child it was a dream come true. But unfortunately it wasn’t a dream that materialized and I occasionally wonder how different life would be for the three of us if my parents had follow through with their plan. I think, if I ever have enough money in my bank to finance it, I’d like to adopt a child, the legal way. But I wonder when is the right time to be honest with the adopted?
It seems that if you don’t tell the child while they are young like pre school age, there really is no right moment. Jack Nicholson found out that his sister was really his mother from a journalist in 1974 after both is mother and grandmother passed on. My mother’s cousin found out after the neighborhood kids informed her through their taunts and teases that her parent’s had picked her up some place. A girl from my high school still doesn’t know the man she calls father isn’t biologically related to her, and her mother is no longer in the picture. And I have heard other stories of kids finding out on their 18th birthdays after their entire families have concealed the truth years. “Happy Birthday Jimmy! You are an adult now and we aren’t your parents! Now go be a productive member of society.” Say whaaaaaaaaaaaaat?
This weekend I learned of yet another adoption tale to add to my collection. I found out that a girl from my church- for the sake of story we’ll call her Naomi-was adopted. I always assumed that the older lady she rolled with to church activities was her granny, but alas that’s what I get for assuming. Last month by coincidence, luck, destiny or however else you’d like to label God’s divine will, Naomi found out she had a younger sister (who is walking around with Naomi’s face) who also attended the same church. For months people asked them if they were related and their retort was no, besides Naomi was adopted. But then one day the girls started talking and Naomi shared what she knew about her birth parents. Younger sister said the same things about her birth parents. The rub is that Naomi’s sister was not put up for adoption and still lives with their birth mother. Or course birth mother is feeling uncomfortable about the two girls hanging out with each other; which I can kind of sort of understand because it’s hard to face the truth after 17 years. But my heart breaks for Naomi, because I can’t help but wonder what it is like for her to see her sister and other siblings go home to their momma. My heart breaks for their mother who made decision-which I can only assume was difficult-that no one else understands but her. But it’s a lot to deal with for all parties involved, and I wonder if it would have been better for all if we church folks just continued to wonder how it could be possible for two girls to look so similar and not be related. Isn’t God amazing?
And I think for all of us as we get older we start learning the family secrets and it can be jarring. There are several cousins who I later discovered weren’t related to me by blood, but it didn’t change anything for me. Back in the day many a young pregnant woman birthed their child, gave it to big momma to raise and that was the end of it.
But what it was like for my cousins, when the truth was fully revealed? Did they really care about knowing the truth when a loving family formed around them and the lies anyway? Or were they appreciative that honesty was the policy eventually chosen?
See You In Seven
Generally speaking I think adoption is a great idea! Be it a road, a grandparent, a puppy or a person. I can’t even convey here how excited I was when my parents were considering adopting a boy a couple years younger than I! As an only child it was a dream come true. But unfortunately it wasn’t a dream that materialized and I occasionally wonder how different life would be for the three of us if my parents had follow through with their plan. I think, if I ever have enough money in my bank to finance it, I’d like to adopt a child, the legal way. But I wonder when is the right time to be honest with the adopted?
It seems that if you don’t tell the child while they are young like pre school age, there really is no right moment. Jack Nicholson found out that his sister was really his mother from a journalist in 1974 after both is mother and grandmother passed on. My mother’s cousin found out after the neighborhood kids informed her through their taunts and teases that her parent’s had picked her up some place. A girl from my high school still doesn’t know the man she calls father isn’t biologically related to her, and her mother is no longer in the picture. And I have heard other stories of kids finding out on their 18th birthdays after their entire families have concealed the truth years. “Happy Birthday Jimmy! You are an adult now and we aren’t your parents! Now go be a productive member of society.” Say whaaaaaaaaaaaaat?
This weekend I learned of yet another adoption tale to add to my collection. I found out that a girl from my church- for the sake of story we’ll call her Naomi-was adopted. I always assumed that the older lady she rolled with to church activities was her granny, but alas that’s what I get for assuming. Last month by coincidence, luck, destiny or however else you’d like to label God’s divine will, Naomi found out she had a younger sister (who is walking around with Naomi’s face) who also attended the same church. For months people asked them if they were related and their retort was no, besides Naomi was adopted. But then one day the girls started talking and Naomi shared what she knew about her birth parents. Younger sister said the same things about her birth parents. The rub is that Naomi’s sister was not put up for adoption and still lives with their birth mother. Or course birth mother is feeling uncomfortable about the two girls hanging out with each other; which I can kind of sort of understand because it’s hard to face the truth after 17 years. But my heart breaks for Naomi, because I can’t help but wonder what it is like for her to see her sister and other siblings go home to their momma. My heart breaks for their mother who made decision-which I can only assume was difficult-that no one else understands but her. But it’s a lot to deal with for all parties involved, and I wonder if it would have been better for all if we church folks just continued to wonder how it could be possible for two girls to look so similar and not be related. Isn’t God amazing?
And I think for all of us as we get older we start learning the family secrets and it can be jarring. There are several cousins who I later discovered weren’t related to me by blood, but it didn’t change anything for me. Back in the day many a young pregnant woman birthed their child, gave it to big momma to raise and that was the end of it.
But what it was like for my cousins, when the truth was fully revealed? Did they really care about knowing the truth when a loving family formed around them and the lies anyway? Or were they appreciative that honesty was the policy eventually chosen?
See You In Seven
Friday, June 11, 2010
The Boy Is Yours
When all the John Edwards baby mama ish hit the fan I actually read Ms. Hunter’s interview in GQ magazine. Even though Dark and Stormy was on some, “girl you crazy, I ain’t readin’ that trash.” But uh yeah it was a slow news day. Or I had work to do and didn’t feel like it. Can’t really remember.
But I do remember deciding to see what this heffa had to say. And in between her ‘being is free’ business cards and her boundless love for Johnny, she basically had a laissez faire, devil may care, I don’t owe Lizzy nuffin type attitude. You see she was just doing her own thang. And Johnny, even though he was married, chose to step to her. And she received him. Cause she is free. And is just passing through this thing called life, like a star or a comet. Ya dig? But under the surface, beyond the craziness, when you got past all the hippy dippy B.S., peeled back the layers and tried to find a reason for their “affair.” What she was basically saying, (to use one of Mint Julep’s favorite quotes) was don't be surprised that it went down like this cause…
“Nyggas ain’t shyt, but hoes and tricks.”
And I agree. Now that’s not fair Rum Punch, all nyggas ain’t shyt, but...OK. That’s true. So, to quote another wordsmith, I’ll say, the world is filled with pimps and hoes, we’ll just talk about those I know. And so as a single woman I have dated men who have left and chose another. They got into deep, deeeep relationships almost immediately. Found the one and got engaged. Almost immediately. And that’s cool. Ain't no thang. This is of course after the tears and the curse words. Then it's all do you man. Until….
Until they came back like what you doin? How you been? What’s up with you? Maybe we should… And you be like oh you single now? Nope. Not at all. Not even a little bit. Still with that other chick. Oh. Oh? Ohhhhhhh.
Admittedly I can be a tad naïve or eyes wide shut when I get a, ‘wanna go to dinner’ text (as I did this past weekend) from a former beau. And I have asked aloud, “why does he want to meet with me?” And I have gotten the virtual and physical O_o from Minty, my brother, and other comrades. But you see for me – because I have moved on I assume they have as well.
And so there were times in the past when I have accepted the invitation. Only to feel a foot against my leg or awell misplaced hand on my back. And it feels good. For a minute. Like a literal ego stroke. And it’s like YESSS!!! Vengeance is mine, chick! (Yeah you just forget that you totally moved on) You start dancing on the inside, talmbout if that’s your boyfriend, if that’s your boyfriend, if that’s your boyfriend, he wasn’t last night. In yo' face bi-ya! In yo' face!!! Cabbage patch. Running man. Roger Rabbit. And do the snake - you lose, I win, you lose! These are the things that have gone through my mind.
But then you know I come to my senses. I refuse the advances. But I also wonder about the other woman who is in actuality his woman. His ride or die. Who thinks he's the best, the minfin best. Who she just knows can't do no wrong. Whom she trusts. Lots. And I know she don’t know about this. She don’t know about me. And that makes me sad. Lose hope. In these nigs. In all of humanity. Heh.
Ms. Hunter, Alicia Keys, Gabby Union, all the other no name, mistresses/side pieces/jump offs often get blamed, get good tongue lashings on the blogs, in the media, and are continually chastised for “taking” someone else’s man/husband. The other woman's retort comes right on cue – I didn’t take him. He came willingly. Yada.
But I do remember deciding to see what this heffa had to say. And in between her ‘being is free’ business cards and her boundless love for Johnny, she basically had a laissez faire, devil may care, I don’t owe Lizzy nuffin type attitude. You see she was just doing her own thang. And Johnny, even though he was married, chose to step to her. And she received him. Cause she is free. And is just passing through this thing called life, like a star or a comet. Ya dig? But under the surface, beyond the craziness, when you got past all the hippy dippy B.S., peeled back the layers and tried to find a reason for their “affair.” What she was basically saying, (to use one of Mint Julep’s favorite quotes) was don't be surprised that it went down like this cause…
“Nyggas ain’t shyt, but hoes and tricks.”
And I agree. Now that’s not fair Rum Punch, all nyggas ain’t shyt, but...OK. That’s true. So, to quote another wordsmith, I’ll say, the world is filled with pimps and hoes, we’ll just talk about those I know. And so as a single woman I have dated men who have left and chose another. They got into deep, deeeep relationships almost immediately. Found the one and got engaged. Almost immediately. And that’s cool. Ain't no thang. This is of course after the tears and the curse words. Then it's all do you man. Until….
Until they came back like what you doin? How you been? What’s up with you? Maybe we should… And you be like oh you single now? Nope. Not at all. Not even a little bit. Still with that other chick. Oh. Oh? Ohhhhhhh.
Admittedly I can be a tad naïve or eyes wide shut when I get a, ‘wanna go to dinner’ text (as I did this past weekend) from a former beau. And I have asked aloud, “why does he want to meet with me?” And I have gotten the virtual and physical O_o from Minty, my brother, and other comrades. But you see for me – because I have moved on I assume they have as well.
And so there were times in the past when I have accepted the invitation. Only to feel a foot against my leg or a
But then you know I come to my senses. I refuse the advances. But I also wonder about the other woman who is in actuality his woman. His ride or die. Who thinks he's the best, the minfin best. Who she just knows can't do no wrong. Whom she trusts. Lots. And I know she don’t know about this. She don’t know about me. And that makes me sad. Lose hope. In these nigs. In all of humanity. Heh.
Ms. Hunter, Alicia Keys, Gabby Union, all the other no name, mistresses/side pieces/jump offs often get blamed, get good tongue lashings on the blogs, in the media, and are continually chastised for “taking” someone else’s man/husband. The other woman's retort comes right on cue – I didn’t take him. He came willingly. Yada.
Having been placed in potential compromising situations – I understand where these chicks are coming from. Sure I never made him come to me. Sure he chose to be an a*hole in the dark and live an 'I'm getting fitted for my angel wings' life in the light. But I don’t have to go to dinner. I can plainly ask, “does your fiancé know you want to come over to my house?” Does your girlfriend know you picking me up in her car? And decline invitations when it seems, that something in that milk ain't clean.
Cause as I get older (even though I do get so lonely), I choose to do right, regardless of if they want to do wrong. And it's not always for altruistic reasons. Or cause I feel sorry for the other woman. And think that we are bonded by sisterhood. Or cause my moral compass is always pointing North. Or cause I believe karma is a bi-ya. It's mainly because I've done the math, the cost analysis as it were, and decided these nyggas' tricks, their shyt, just aint worth it.
That’s my time y’all! Happy Rum Punch Friday!
Taking it even farther back cause it's Friday and I'm iganant like that! He's mine you may'a had him once, but I got him all the time. You can't sleep at night. BWAAAHH!
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