I’m such a dreamer, but I’m not an optimistic dreamer, which probably makes me a nightmarer…if there ever were such a thing.
I really try to not over analyze things.
People.
Statements.
Secret vacations.
But I can’t help it. So when Sex goes off at 2am, I’m stuck with the thoughts of YOU and YOUR foolish ways.
And those thoughts carry on into REM, and I’m faced with colorless nightmares of YOU and HER.
or YOU and HIM...
But I miss sleep. I miss being optimistic. I miss when things were easy. Before WE complicated OUR lives with briefs, cases, court, jail, jailees, trustees, trials, 5 hour shots, Starbucks, 7 Eleven, supplements, educated drama.
I miss when YOU weren’t pure but were manageable. But now YOU'RE a mess and my dreams have become just like YOU.
I miss sleep. But I miss YOU. However, right now my sleep is more important than the memories of YOU and I.
So GOODNIGHT and GOODBYE.
Monday, January 26, 2009
What Does It All Really Mean?
I was reading an issue of Cosmo and it included an article on what men say but what they really mean. It was interesting; a little disturbing but a good read nonetheless.
We all have a tendency to say one thing yet mean another. But what happens when the prerequisite Reading Between the Lines 101 is not enough to pass Interacting With the Other Sex.
I’ll be the first to admit that I have this tendency (but who doesn’t?).
For instance: “Whatever”. Which means, “I don’t give a fuck and will handle "it" on my own time”.
Which really means, “I’ll never handle the situation but want this painful lecture to end before I throw up and swallow”.
Its funny how the one-worded phrase, “Whatever” can mean a variety of things when uttered and turn into something completely different once a person is released from the peril that caused the situation to become just whatever and not something more.
I just wish that I could read between the telephone receiver and figure out what the hell you meant when you ended the conversation with, “I don’t know what it is. I’ve been hurt before. I just need time.”
Huh? What happened to a simple, "Goodnight, sleep tight," A.K.A "Wish I was there to keep you up all night".
So dude, what does it mean, “Don’t call me again"?
Or does it actually mean, “Please remain patient with me. I really enjoy your company, but I’m damaged goods and need time to heal. Yet in the time of healing, I’d love to get to know you better.”
Or worse, does it just mean, “Whatever”.
I’d rather be fed a three-syllable word than hear another man drone on about how he’s been hurt in the past (boo fucking hoo) and just needs time to heal.
Uhh…hello! Having your heart chipped away slightly does not mean you have to shut down and wreak havoc upon every woman you encounter. Or shut down and never reopen again.
It means the piece of your heart she stole is gone and it’s hers. It will always be hers (even though she disposed of it last year with the help of two new friends).
It means that you are not whole, but you are not incomplete.
And that what is remaining IS enough to try and let US be more than a simple, “Whatever”.
So please say what you mean and mean what you say…and if, “I need time” means, “I’m not over HER, she still has a hold on me and I’m passing time with you until she returns” than say just that.
Because yours isn’t the only chipped heart in this quasi relationship.
We all have a tendency to say one thing yet mean another. But what happens when the prerequisite Reading Between the Lines 101 is not enough to pass Interacting With the Other Sex.
I’ll be the first to admit that I have this tendency (but who doesn’t?).
For instance: “Whatever”. Which means, “I don’t give a fuck and will handle "it" on my own time”.
Which really means, “I’ll never handle the situation but want this painful lecture to end before I throw up and swallow”.
Its funny how the one-worded phrase, “Whatever” can mean a variety of things when uttered and turn into something completely different once a person is released from the peril that caused the situation to become just whatever and not something more.
I just wish that I could read between the telephone receiver and figure out what the hell you meant when you ended the conversation with, “I don’t know what it is. I’ve been hurt before. I just need time.”
Huh? What happened to a simple, "Goodnight, sleep tight," A.K.A "Wish I was there to keep you up all night".
So dude, what does it mean, “Don’t call me again"?
Or does it actually mean, “Please remain patient with me. I really enjoy your company, but I’m damaged goods and need time to heal. Yet in the time of healing, I’d love to get to know you better.”
Or worse, does it just mean, “Whatever”.
I’d rather be fed a three-syllable word than hear another man drone on about how he’s been hurt in the past (boo fucking hoo) and just needs time to heal.
Uhh…hello! Having your heart chipped away slightly does not mean you have to shut down and wreak havoc upon every woman you encounter. Or shut down and never reopen again.
It means the piece of your heart she stole is gone and it’s hers. It will always be hers (even though she disposed of it last year with the help of two new friends).
It means that you are not whole, but you are not incomplete.
And that what is remaining IS enough to try and let US be more than a simple, “Whatever”.
So please say what you mean and mean what you say…and if, “I need time” means, “I’m not over HER, she still has a hold on me and I’m passing time with you until she returns” than say just that.
Because yours isn’t the only chipped heart in this quasi relationship.
Beef & Swine + Fran= An Upset Friendship
A long lost friend called me last night. It was so weird. Like we used to hang really tight and out of nowhere things just ended.
There was no animosity. No argument. No return of belongings.
Conversation just ceased….until now.
Turns out there was animosity, but she was too proud and too confused about her own feelings to have an argument with me.
It’s been so long I couldn’t even recall the events that let to our demise (such a dramatic word!). She explained it happened in Tampa…at a bar-b-que joint…or the bowling alley…I said something hurtful…or not…she took offense to it…and just stopped talking to me.
I sat on the phone in silence. Celebrities adorned in diamonds and couture flashed before my eyes from the tube, but I couldn’t process what she was saying. All I could think about was that the guy from House has a freaking English accent!! WTF?
She explained that she had decided to cut me off.
Huh?
So if I was cut, why didn’t I know? Or suspect?
It was ironically funny. Someone I considered a close friend, who knew almost everything and was there whenever I needed her, had cut me out of her life between Temple Terrace and our long I-4 drive back home.
A semester passed, we graduated…yet I had no clue that I was dismissed for an entire season!
So what does it all mean? Maybe that I stopped needing her or that she stopped needing me. Maybe she realized she knew enough about me and was no longer interested in learning more. Maybe we matured, became serious about the next steps we required in life and grew up.
But how can you not even notice being cut from the team if being a player was that important to you! And who was my fucking replacement?!?
I’m not even upset with her. I’m just confused. I just wish she had discussed with me almost three years ago while I was driving Ellie Mae that she was upset. That it wasn’t the ribs and pulled pork that had her stomach in a knot; it was ME. And that she was going to cut meat and ME out of her life for good (or until it was deemed necessary).
She’s returned to her carnivorous lifestyle and we agreed to keep in touch. I still don’t get it, but perhaps cleaning her system required ridding ME from her diet as well…
There was no animosity. No argument. No return of belongings.
Conversation just ceased….until now.
Turns out there was animosity, but she was too proud and too confused about her own feelings to have an argument with me.
It’s been so long I couldn’t even recall the events that let to our demise (such a dramatic word!). She explained it happened in Tampa…at a bar-b-que joint…or the bowling alley…I said something hurtful…or not…she took offense to it…and just stopped talking to me.
I sat on the phone in silence. Celebrities adorned in diamonds and couture flashed before my eyes from the tube, but I couldn’t process what she was saying. All I could think about was that the guy from House has a freaking English accent!! WTF?
She explained that she had decided to cut me off.
Huh?
So if I was cut, why didn’t I know? Or suspect?
It was ironically funny. Someone I considered a close friend, who knew almost everything and was there whenever I needed her, had cut me out of her life between Temple Terrace and our long I-4 drive back home.
A semester passed, we graduated…yet I had no clue that I was dismissed for an entire season!
So what does it all mean? Maybe that I stopped needing her or that she stopped needing me. Maybe she realized she knew enough about me and was no longer interested in learning more. Maybe we matured, became serious about the next steps we required in life and grew up.
But how can you not even notice being cut from the team if being a player was that important to you! And who was my fucking replacement?!?
I’m not even upset with her. I’m just confused. I just wish she had discussed with me almost three years ago while I was driving Ellie Mae that she was upset. That it wasn’t the ribs and pulled pork that had her stomach in a knot; it was ME. And that she was going to cut meat and ME out of her life for good (or until it was deemed necessary).
She’s returned to her carnivorous lifestyle and we agreed to keep in touch. I still don’t get it, but perhaps cleaning her system required ridding ME from her diet as well…
General is Never General Enough
Having this blog is like a virtual diary. Now, I don’t know how much privacy that leaves me, but I look at each entry as random thoughts that include life lessons I’ve learned from personal experience or from pure observation.
Its out there for everyone to read...even my friends. When I told Faye I had given the web address to a few friends, she scolded me. Her advise was that friends should NEVA read your blog because they take everything personally and next thing you know shit pops off.
Well, shit has popped off…
When you read an entry, read it for enjoyment. Don’t critique my verbiage, my grammar, or my lack of sexual insight. Don’t read between the lines and attempt to morph the nouns used into YOU.
If I wanted to discuss your sloppy ways, I’d use your name. And if I didn’t give two shits about your ass, I’d use your real name.
If you feel salty about an entry, perhaps it’s because you realize that in many ways, the nouns I refer to resemble you. But that is an issue with the man/woman in the mirror; NOT me.
I write about things I hear in passing. Things I view in the media or just know exist, and disgust me to the point where I must rant for a few paragraphs to purge myself.
I have no judgment for anyone. Do you. Do him. Do her.
But in the process of doing what you enjoy, realize that everything that feels good isn’t good for you. Sometimes your vices, your weaknesses, your addictions affect those around you. Those who are tired of the same shit. Tired of the stagnant lifestyle you call fabulous, and only desire for you to wake the fuck up and realize that perhaps you (NOT HIM) are the problem.
So, if you have read an entry and feel salty, please discuss your feelings with me so we can determine if your wounds were caused unintentionally yet carelessly by myself, or worse are self inflicted.
Its out there for everyone to read...even my friends. When I told Faye I had given the web address to a few friends, she scolded me. Her advise was that friends should NEVA read your blog because they take everything personally and next thing you know shit pops off.
Well, shit has popped off…
When you read an entry, read it for enjoyment. Don’t critique my verbiage, my grammar, or my lack of sexual insight. Don’t read between the lines and attempt to morph the nouns used into YOU.
If I wanted to discuss your sloppy ways, I’d use your name. And if I didn’t give two shits about your ass, I’d use your real name.
If you feel salty about an entry, perhaps it’s because you realize that in many ways, the nouns I refer to resemble you. But that is an issue with the man/woman in the mirror; NOT me.
I write about things I hear in passing. Things I view in the media or just know exist, and disgust me to the point where I must rant for a few paragraphs to purge myself.
I have no judgment for anyone. Do you. Do him. Do her.
But in the process of doing what you enjoy, realize that everything that feels good isn’t good for you. Sometimes your vices, your weaknesses, your addictions affect those around you. Those who are tired of the same shit. Tired of the stagnant lifestyle you call fabulous, and only desire for you to wake the fuck up and realize that perhaps you (NOT HIM) are the problem.
So, if you have read an entry and feel salty, please discuss your feelings with me so we can determine if your wounds were caused unintentionally yet carelessly by myself, or worse are self inflicted.
Saturday, January 24, 2009
I'm Back...
I know it’s been awhile, but things have been a little hectic and school always comes first.
So darlings...how have you been? Any new developed drama? Met a man? Met a woman? Acquired a new sex partner?
I had to put the blog on hold because of finals and I’m dealing with the harsh reality that my absence has probably caused me to lose a few readers. I’m truly sorry but you’d be delighted to know that my grades this semester were, well how should I describe them…ummm…they were the TRUTH!
I’m so freaking happy!
This has been my best full semester since this law school hazing process began. I performed well this summer, but balancing five classes in which two were worth 4 credits was extremely difficult, but very doable. I want to give a shout out to my study group and this extraordinary man I plan to marry one day (lol) who has always equipped us with what we need to succeed.
No, but really, for all those who were there for the daily overdoses of caffeine and the ultimate discovery that Steak & Shake has happy hour from 2-4 (which by the way is totally inconvenient for those with jobs but for stressed law students sitting @ home or the library until the sun sets, its perfect!) I applaud you and pray your efforts to figure out what the hell Rule 10(b)(5) is actually paid off.
Aside from learning what character evidence is and how to conduct myself in the courtroom, I learned…well actually opened my eyes to the fact that women are fucking crazy!
Sometimes I wish that life lessons could be acquired through reading an overpriced textbook, but I guess having to experience personally that some folk are just plain toxic in your life is the only way to realize that some people just don’t, won’t ever, and have no interest progressing in their personal lives.
Now, I know most have made New Year resolutions. Mine are 1) to become more organized, 2) to appreciate that cleanliness is not next to Godliness but it makes it a lot easier to find shit when you’re in a rush, 3) to workout more, and 4) just focus on what I want.
Some of us try to rid ourselves of certain vices: chocolate, fast food, men who provide the promise that you’ll cum all night (which you do) with the excuse that they’ve been hurt in the past (boo fucking hoo) and just can’t do that whole “relationship” thing.
It’s never easy to cut something or someone out of your life, but entering the New Year with hopes to become a better person is worth the attempt. We make personal resolutions each year, but wouldn’t’ it be better if we could make them for our friends and force their asses to comply with the order.
I would love to assign my homegirl with the resolution that letting the nigga go is MANDATORY and force her to realize he will never be her man and is probably fucking his roommate and has no interest in the word monogamy WITH HER, but will more than likely find a woman who actually possess self love and wife her within a year of meeting each other.
I’d tell my homeboy to let go of the fallacy that dreams come true when you move to Atlanta, that he needs to formulate a detailed plan and let the pole dancer go because she’ll never get a 9-5 because who would change their 5 year career of obtaining over $600 in three hours each night while the other drones work 40 hours a week and make less.
I’d tell my mother to stop relying on “wisdom” and get her shit together and while working on herself also work on cutting the fucking umbilical cord and GIVE US FREE!
But I can’t force others to want something for their lives just because I know they deserve and need and will probably never proposer without MORE.
So my other resolution, probably the most difficult, shall be to let go…let go of wanting people to change, let go of my own fallacies, and let go of those that just don’t, never will, and have no interest progressing in their lives.
So darlings...how have you been? Any new developed drama? Met a man? Met a woman? Acquired a new sex partner?
I had to put the blog on hold because of finals and I’m dealing with the harsh reality that my absence has probably caused me to lose a few readers. I’m truly sorry but you’d be delighted to know that my grades this semester were, well how should I describe them…ummm…they were the TRUTH!
I’m so freaking happy!
This has been my best full semester since this law school hazing process began. I performed well this summer, but balancing five classes in which two were worth 4 credits was extremely difficult, but very doable. I want to give a shout out to my study group and this extraordinary man I plan to marry one day (lol) who has always equipped us with what we need to succeed.
No, but really, for all those who were there for the daily overdoses of caffeine and the ultimate discovery that Steak & Shake has happy hour from 2-4 (which by the way is totally inconvenient for those with jobs but for stressed law students sitting @ home or the library until the sun sets, its perfect!) I applaud you and pray your efforts to figure out what the hell Rule 10(b)(5) is actually paid off.
Aside from learning what character evidence is and how to conduct myself in the courtroom, I learned…well actually opened my eyes to the fact that women are fucking crazy!
Sometimes I wish that life lessons could be acquired through reading an overpriced textbook, but I guess having to experience personally that some folk are just plain toxic in your life is the only way to realize that some people just don’t, won’t ever, and have no interest progressing in their personal lives.
Now, I know most have made New Year resolutions. Mine are 1) to become more organized, 2) to appreciate that cleanliness is not next to Godliness but it makes it a lot easier to find shit when you’re in a rush, 3) to workout more, and 4) just focus on what I want.
Some of us try to rid ourselves of certain vices: chocolate, fast food, men who provide the promise that you’ll cum all night (which you do) with the excuse that they’ve been hurt in the past (boo fucking hoo) and just can’t do that whole “relationship” thing.
It’s never easy to cut something or someone out of your life, but entering the New Year with hopes to become a better person is worth the attempt. We make personal resolutions each year, but wouldn’t’ it be better if we could make them for our friends and force their asses to comply with the order.
I would love to assign my homegirl with the resolution that letting the nigga go is MANDATORY and force her to realize he will never be her man and is probably fucking his roommate and has no interest in the word monogamy WITH HER, but will more than likely find a woman who actually possess self love and wife her within a year of meeting each other.
I’d tell my homeboy to let go of the fallacy that dreams come true when you move to Atlanta, that he needs to formulate a detailed plan and let the pole dancer go because she’ll never get a 9-5 because who would change their 5 year career of obtaining over $600 in three hours each night while the other drones work 40 hours a week and make less.
I’d tell my mother to stop relying on “wisdom” and get her shit together and while working on herself also work on cutting the fucking umbilical cord and GIVE US FREE!
But I can’t force others to want something for their lives just because I know they deserve and need and will probably never proposer without MORE.
So my other resolution, probably the most difficult, shall be to let go…let go of wanting people to change, let go of my own fallacies, and let go of those that just don’t, never will, and have no interest progressing in their lives.
Friday, January 23, 2009
Such a Supportive Friend
My friend convinced me to join this online dating website, lol!
I know! It’s soooo not me, but she wanted support so I decided to join for a week.
I never reached out to anyone, just sat back with a cute headshot and enjoyed the entertainment.
For some reason, folk are even more free online than in person. Like, I would assume a man would approach me online as he would in person.
Hi…my name is…I like your profile…would like to chat, talk, get to know you better…how you doing…cute picture…whatcha do for fun…
You know, the normal introductions. But no, these fools send messages like:
Hey ma…beautiful…sexy…you’re the finest thing I’ve seen on here…wanna take you out….come to your house….come inside….cum inside…just want to have sex…friends with benefits…hope you got a car because I don’t…I have three kids, hope you babysit…btw, I like to eat pussy.
I guess people become more aggressive online because you have to get in fast and make a lasting impression since the “in person” factor is gone. But dude, would you tell me on the first encounter that you eat pussy and want to cum inside of me?
Uh…I hope not!
I put in my profile that I’m busy, rarely date and attributed my lack of a social life to being in law school. Did this deter anyone…hell naw!
Folk talking ‘bout…I know you busy….stressed…I can massage you, make you feel better….baby you can be my lawyer after I assault that pussy…and afterward, I’ll help you study.
Ok, first of all…please respect what I do. Respect my plight, respect my aspirations. This shit ain’t no damn legal studies class you took as an elective in undergrad!
I never sleep. My entire grade in a class is based on one fucking final! I had to take a hard ass test to be hazed for three years and after that I'm bestowed with the expensive privilege of taking ANOTHER hard ass test that will determine my entire future and make my hazing process worth anything.
And nigga….stop using legal terms with me: “assault my pussy”…uh, is that slang for rape? I don’t get it!
Massage me, help me study. Negro, please! I’m too stressed to enjoy a massage and hello! you went to school and majored in general studies…nigga you can’t help me study!
But amongst the numerous wack ass men online, this one guy actually came quite correct.
His subject line was: good impression, and he did just that. We exchanged emails, pictures, and he finally got my digits.
He seems cool and we’re setting up an encounter during Super Bowl weekend. He’s witty and intelligent and hasn’t offered to massage my worries away.
And if he does, I’ll scream…but meet him nonetheless, because as long as he doesn’t offer his time to help me study or assure me that sex with him involves an imminent apprehension of harm to my pussy, I’ll be alright.
I know! It’s soooo not me, but she wanted support so I decided to join for a week.
I never reached out to anyone, just sat back with a cute headshot and enjoyed the entertainment.
For some reason, folk are even more free online than in person. Like, I would assume a man would approach me online as he would in person.
Hi…my name is…I like your profile…would like to chat, talk, get to know you better…how you doing…cute picture…whatcha do for fun…
You know, the normal introductions. But no, these fools send messages like:
Hey ma…beautiful…sexy…you’re the finest thing I’ve seen on here…wanna take you out….come to your house….come inside….cum inside…just want to have sex…friends with benefits…hope you got a car because I don’t…I have three kids, hope you babysit…btw, I like to eat pussy.
I guess people become more aggressive online because you have to get in fast and make a lasting impression since the “in person” factor is gone. But dude, would you tell me on the first encounter that you eat pussy and want to cum inside of me?
Uh…I hope not!
I put in my profile that I’m busy, rarely date and attributed my lack of a social life to being in law school. Did this deter anyone…hell naw!
Folk talking ‘bout…I know you busy….stressed…I can massage you, make you feel better….baby you can be my lawyer after I assault that pussy…and afterward, I’ll help you study.
Ok, first of all…please respect what I do. Respect my plight, respect my aspirations. This shit ain’t no damn legal studies class you took as an elective in undergrad!
I never sleep. My entire grade in a class is based on one fucking final! I had to take a hard ass test to be hazed for three years and after that I'm bestowed with the expensive privilege of taking ANOTHER hard ass test that will determine my entire future and make my hazing process worth anything.
And nigga….stop using legal terms with me: “assault my pussy”…uh, is that slang for rape? I don’t get it!
Massage me, help me study. Negro, please! I’m too stressed to enjoy a massage and hello! you went to school and majored in general studies…nigga you can’t help me study!
But amongst the numerous wack ass men online, this one guy actually came quite correct.
His subject line was: good impression, and he did just that. We exchanged emails, pictures, and he finally got my digits.
He seems cool and we’re setting up an encounter during Super Bowl weekend. He’s witty and intelligent and hasn’t offered to massage my worries away.
And if he does, I’ll scream…but meet him nonetheless, because as long as he doesn’t offer his time to help me study or assure me that sex with him involves an imminent apprehension of harm to my pussy, I’ll be alright.
Weak Woman on Board
I hate weak women!
Like, they are on the same level of loathing as those damn “Baby on Board” stickers! And everyone close to me knows that’s some serious shit!
So when consumed by the drama of a weak woman, I usually break and eventually snap. It’s a silent snap that involves limited phone conversation, brief personal interaction, and the thought that this woman, this weak ass bitch has completely lost her fucking mind!
And in the spirit of letting things, people, shit go…I’ve decided to add yet another person to my list.
Now I've written about weaknesses, my own at that. Admitted that Deondre was a weakness but that liking him and wanting to be with him did not MAKE me a weak woman.
He was an exception to the weak rule, meaning that his presence caused me to forget everything I believed: that I am already complete and only complimented by the mere presence of a man in my life.
Don't get it twisted, I long for an orgasm (well not as much as before…shall get to that later), but I in no way long for the presence of a man in my life to complete me.
I haven’t had sex since Eric which was in early November, and I feel fine.
I found my g-spot without a man. I enjoyed the holidays without a man. I sleep alone and am lulled to sleep by Sex and the City reruns, but not by the presence of a man spooning me.
So back to hating weak women…
I have little patience for women who need a man to be happy. Women who receive booty calls at 2am with the purpose to NOT have an orgasm, but to have the nigga cum and cuddle them.
What the fuck!
If you need to cuddle purchase a fucking teddy bear.
Or better, get your shit together, face all the insecurities you've held unto since childhood and realize that this man, no…this nigga that you treat like a boyfriend is not YOUR MAN!!!
He is fucking you (and others) and is using you.
Despite your pimpette beliefs, you are not in control. Your pussy may be good. You may have the nigga pussy whipped in the sense that he loves to be in your shit, but as I always say pussy does not have a name nor does it have a face.
And you weak woman have no name and no face, because after fucking you for almost a year without any sign of commitment, the nigga has realized the appearance of a strong and aggressive woman is nothing more than façade. A joke bundled up with infinite insecurities and repetitious regrets. You are nothing but an easy, consistent fuck, and your lack of self worth has erased your beautiful face and name.
So the control you believe your "good" pussy empowers you with is a fucking fallacy.
The nigga is in control…why? Duh! because he sets the tempo of your quasi relationship.
He sets the tempo when you fuck.
He sets the tempo when you go out with your girls and rush home early to cuddle with him.
He sets the tempo when you are approached by another man (who is actually worth your time your energy, your money, and your pussy) and pass him off to rush home and cuddle with him.
You lost control when you opened your legs with the purpose to not enjoy the act of sex but to seduce him into believing that your pussy is good enough to call “girlfriend”…but girlfriend IT IS NOT!
AND IT NEVER WILL BE.
The nigga is playing you as the others have before.
So wake up in 2009, close your damn legs because when they are open so is your heart, and realize your worth.
And please forgive me if all you are actually worth is a quasi -lover who you can’t trust, you can’t rely upon, and whom you never will have as your own.
Like, they are on the same level of loathing as those damn “Baby on Board” stickers! And everyone close to me knows that’s some serious shit!
So when consumed by the drama of a weak woman, I usually break and eventually snap. It’s a silent snap that involves limited phone conversation, brief personal interaction, and the thought that this woman, this weak ass bitch has completely lost her fucking mind!
And in the spirit of letting things, people, shit go…I’ve decided to add yet another person to my list.
Now I've written about weaknesses, my own at that. Admitted that Deondre was a weakness but that liking him and wanting to be with him did not MAKE me a weak woman.
He was an exception to the weak rule, meaning that his presence caused me to forget everything I believed: that I am already complete and only complimented by the mere presence of a man in my life.
Don't get it twisted, I long for an orgasm (well not as much as before…shall get to that later), but I in no way long for the presence of a man in my life to complete me.
I haven’t had sex since Eric which was in early November, and I feel fine.
I found my g-spot without a man. I enjoyed the holidays without a man. I sleep alone and am lulled to sleep by Sex and the City reruns, but not by the presence of a man spooning me.
So back to hating weak women…
I have little patience for women who need a man to be happy. Women who receive booty calls at 2am with the purpose to NOT have an orgasm, but to have the nigga cum and cuddle them.
What the fuck!
If you need to cuddle purchase a fucking teddy bear.
Or better, get your shit together, face all the insecurities you've held unto since childhood and realize that this man, no…this nigga that you treat like a boyfriend is not YOUR MAN!!!
He is fucking you (and others) and is using you.
Despite your pimpette beliefs, you are not in control. Your pussy may be good. You may have the nigga pussy whipped in the sense that he loves to be in your shit, but as I always say pussy does not have a name nor does it have a face.
And you weak woman have no name and no face, because after fucking you for almost a year without any sign of commitment, the nigga has realized the appearance of a strong and aggressive woman is nothing more than façade. A joke bundled up with infinite insecurities and repetitious regrets. You are nothing but an easy, consistent fuck, and your lack of self worth has erased your beautiful face and name.
So the control you believe your "good" pussy empowers you with is a fucking fallacy.
The nigga is in control…why? Duh! because he sets the tempo of your quasi relationship.
He sets the tempo when you fuck.
He sets the tempo when you go out with your girls and rush home early to cuddle with him.
He sets the tempo when you are approached by another man (who is actually worth your time your energy, your money, and your pussy) and pass him off to rush home and cuddle with him.
You lost control when you opened your legs with the purpose to not enjoy the act of sex but to seduce him into believing that your pussy is good enough to call “girlfriend”…but girlfriend IT IS NOT!
AND IT NEVER WILL BE.
The nigga is playing you as the others have before.
So wake up in 2009, close your damn legs because when they are open so is your heart, and realize your worth.
And please forgive me if all you are actually worth is a quasi -lover who you can’t trust, you can’t rely upon, and whom you never will have as your own.
So Long, Farewell, Auf Weidersehen, Goodbye!
So whom else have I decided to let go this year…
Well I wouldn’t really characterize my next move as "letting go" but perhaps as an Ultimate Cleanse. My ex-trainer diagnosed my weight lost as my need to shit more. That based on my body type I only lose weight by daily cardio and daily excrement. So she recommended this thing called the Ultimate Cleanse; and living up to its name, my intestines were ultimately cleansed.
So realizing how good life is and how clear my skin is after a good detox, I thought…shit, maybe my personal life could use a dose of cleansing. Perhaps the toxic family members and friends need to be removed from my daily existence and flushed away for good.
So first to go was my mother…now don’t get me wrong, I heart the woman, admire her perseverance and unshakable faith, but damn! the woman is fucking CRAZY!
Like, its not even menopause crazy, she's always been this way. I remember vividly (which is so rare) being in private school and her dropping me off in front of the playground. I remember going into the Parrish hall, sitting on the dirty wooden floor, and crying while muttering how much I hated her.
And nothing has changed since then.
I hate to use the word hate, but sometimes I can’t think of anything else to describe how I feel about her. It truly is a love/hate/hate relationship.
So I realized upon bringing in the New Year, that I've been in a relationship with my mother since...well, birth.
That I had made the huge mistake of giving my heart to a person who was not worth trusting.
I gave that woman everything, all of me.
All my love went to her, and it left none for my father. All I had for him was the yearly holiday phone call.
I relied on her for everything, and she turned on me.
It was as though I had given myself to a man who had shown all the tell tale signs of being consistently inconsistent; yet ignoring them because he was all I had and because he was all I ever wanted to know.
So the bitch completely lost her mind over the break. Well actually, she’s been losing her mind since my childhood, but shit just became ridic over the Christmas break.
I loathe the holidays because of her. I’m flooded with the thought of no tree, no presents, no eggnog, no holiday cheer, no sign of holiday love, no family, no dinner, no carols, just Carol’s crazy ass constantly berating the commercialized holiday and my belief of Santa himself.
She called me on Christmas Eve to remind me that SHE was all I had.
And she was right…and it made me realize that if she was everything, if she was the only thing I could cling to in a moment of depression and despair, than a bottle of gin and prescription drugs would suit my emotions better.
I wanted more than a crazy ass mother who treated me like an ATM, and banged upon me when told I was out of order and out of money.
I wanted my other family. I wanted a father, a mother figure who was reasonable, and siblings who looked up to me as though I were the truth. I wanted a real fucking Christmas!
I politely told her that if family, meaning her, was all I had then I didn’t have much and that it was sad.
She quoted a few scriptures, told me about myself, and of course finished the call with her infamous, “I love you and God bless you”.
BITCH!
But despite her evil ways, I got a real fucking Christmas that included a tree and family and dinner and spiked eggnog and PRESENTS and carols!
It was absolutely wonderful. I fell in love this Christmas with my other side of my family, the side I’ve been told my entire life was not worth trusting, was not worth visiting, was not worth my time.
I’ve decided to let her toxic ass go…to let her know that she is NOT all that I have. I have wonderful friends, I have a family that wants to help me and is there when I need them, and I have my fucking sanity back.
So the lesson that giving your heart to someone has been learned. I thought it would come from a man who had broken his promises and shitted on everything we called scared, but it came from a woman who is too consumed with her own regret that she can’t even see that her only child has let her go for good.
Well I wouldn’t really characterize my next move as "letting go" but perhaps as an Ultimate Cleanse. My ex-trainer diagnosed my weight lost as my need to shit more. That based on my body type I only lose weight by daily cardio and daily excrement. So she recommended this thing called the Ultimate Cleanse; and living up to its name, my intestines were ultimately cleansed.
So realizing how good life is and how clear my skin is after a good detox, I thought…shit, maybe my personal life could use a dose of cleansing. Perhaps the toxic family members and friends need to be removed from my daily existence and flushed away for good.
So first to go was my mother…now don’t get me wrong, I heart the woman, admire her perseverance and unshakable faith, but damn! the woman is fucking CRAZY!
Like, its not even menopause crazy, she's always been this way. I remember vividly (which is so rare) being in private school and her dropping me off in front of the playground. I remember going into the Parrish hall, sitting on the dirty wooden floor, and crying while muttering how much I hated her.
And nothing has changed since then.
I hate to use the word hate, but sometimes I can’t think of anything else to describe how I feel about her. It truly is a love/hate/hate relationship.
So I realized upon bringing in the New Year, that I've been in a relationship with my mother since...well, birth.
That I had made the huge mistake of giving my heart to a person who was not worth trusting.
I gave that woman everything, all of me.
All my love went to her, and it left none for my father. All I had for him was the yearly holiday phone call.
I relied on her for everything, and she turned on me.
It was as though I had given myself to a man who had shown all the tell tale signs of being consistently inconsistent; yet ignoring them because he was all I had and because he was all I ever wanted to know.
So the bitch completely lost her mind over the break. Well actually, she’s been losing her mind since my childhood, but shit just became ridic over the Christmas break.
I loathe the holidays because of her. I’m flooded with the thought of no tree, no presents, no eggnog, no holiday cheer, no sign of holiday love, no family, no dinner, no carols, just Carol’s crazy ass constantly berating the commercialized holiday and my belief of Santa himself.
She called me on Christmas Eve to remind me that SHE was all I had.
And she was right…and it made me realize that if she was everything, if she was the only thing I could cling to in a moment of depression and despair, than a bottle of gin and prescription drugs would suit my emotions better.
I wanted more than a crazy ass mother who treated me like an ATM, and banged upon me when told I was out of order and out of money.
I wanted my other family. I wanted a father, a mother figure who was reasonable, and siblings who looked up to me as though I were the truth. I wanted a real fucking Christmas!
I politely told her that if family, meaning her, was all I had then I didn’t have much and that it was sad.
She quoted a few scriptures, told me about myself, and of course finished the call with her infamous, “I love you and God bless you”.
BITCH!
But despite her evil ways, I got a real fucking Christmas that included a tree and family and dinner and spiked eggnog and PRESENTS and carols!
It was absolutely wonderful. I fell in love this Christmas with my other side of my family, the side I’ve been told my entire life was not worth trusting, was not worth visiting, was not worth my time.
I’ve decided to let her toxic ass go…to let her know that she is NOT all that I have. I have wonderful friends, I have a family that wants to help me and is there when I need them, and I have my fucking sanity back.
So the lesson that giving your heart to someone has been learned. I thought it would come from a man who had broken his promises and shitted on everything we called scared, but it came from a woman who is too consumed with her own regret that she can’t even see that her only child has let her go for good.
Cross My Mind
I was riding in the car yesterday with a friend. We were discussing men, which means we were discussing sex or lack thereof and suddenly my ears were flooded with the sounds of Trey Songz. It was “The Last Time”. All I could think about was Deondre. I wanted to dial his number to say that I was thinking of him. Two months ago I would have succumb to the feeling; but in the ’09 with the resolution to “let go”, I decided to not call, to not text, to no longer entertain the thoughts of his inconsistent ass.
Oh, Deondre…
Looking over the blog entries, its almost funny how much I used to write about him. How much I wanted to be with him. How much I wanted to fuck his ass and eventually only got fucked over by him time and time again minus the orgasm.
We haven’t spoken since the day he called and cancelled our lunch date because he didn’t get the job. Isn’t it sad yet so hilarious that his bitch ass ex-girlfriend let him go because he wanted to join the military only for him to NOT get the job and return to what he does best: HUSTLING.
I provided my condolences; assured him better things were to come. He sat in silence waiting for me to reschedule as I normally would, but there was nothing. I told him good blessings and goodbye.
I let him go. Shit, maybe he let me go. Who cares, all that matters is the constant thought of him is gone. The constant throbbing between my legs for him has ceased. No more masturbating to the thought of him thrusting inside of me. No more Deondre.
And never one to front…I will admit that I do and will always probably think of him. I will always hear Trey Songz and see Deondre’s face. I will always remember visiting his “office” on the 4th floor of library. I will always remember what we used to do (and what we never did).
I will remember the consistent inconsistent relationship we had. But more importantly, I will always remember that Deondre was never good for me, and I was never good for him.
Oh, Deondre…
Looking over the blog entries, its almost funny how much I used to write about him. How much I wanted to be with him. How much I wanted to fuck his ass and eventually only got fucked over by him time and time again minus the orgasm.
We haven’t spoken since the day he called and cancelled our lunch date because he didn’t get the job. Isn’t it sad yet so hilarious that his bitch ass ex-girlfriend let him go because he wanted to join the military only for him to NOT get the job and return to what he does best: HUSTLING.
I provided my condolences; assured him better things were to come. He sat in silence waiting for me to reschedule as I normally would, but there was nothing. I told him good blessings and goodbye.
I let him go. Shit, maybe he let me go. Who cares, all that matters is the constant thought of him is gone. The constant throbbing between my legs for him has ceased. No more masturbating to the thought of him thrusting inside of me. No more Deondre.
And never one to front…I will admit that I do and will always probably think of him. I will always hear Trey Songz and see Deondre’s face. I will always remember visiting his “office” on the 4th floor of library. I will always remember what we used to do (and what we never did).
I will remember the consistent inconsistent relationship we had. But more importantly, I will always remember that Deondre was never good for me, and I was never good for him.
Why Are There So Many Peachtrees?!?
During the Christmas break, Faye and I went to Atlanta. She wanted to celebrate her 24th birthday and bring in the New Year in style…which means, bring in the New Year not in this boring ass city which is flooded with tourist or in the more boring ass city we reluctantly call “home”.
So we packed up our clothes and went. We made no significant plans other than to wild the fuck out. Only problem was, upon our arrival we were assigned two tour guides: Faye’s best friend from middle school and the chick’s spineless fiancée. They, well actually he, took us everywhere. Dude even came to the club with us on her birthday. It was so awkward because chick had a straight up ‘tude and the fiancée was the only Irish man in the club.
And to call this place a club would be utterly erroneous. I don’t know what it is about Atlanta, but them folk up there are on some other level shit. Like, I expected to dance and have fun, but everyone else @ Dolce was under the impression that fun involves standing in a circle while looking at others so the same.
No one was dancing. Everyone was just standing. It was just too weird.
And to make matters worse bitches are completely rude! Like, I’m used to saying, “Excuse me” while shifting someone to the side in the quest for another martini, but these pretentious muthafuckers would just bow a bitch and keep on trucking.
Not to mention, the only dick I rubbed on that entire evening was this dude who was standing behind me in line awaiting the privilege of entering the “club”. It was a complete accident; this chick backed into me and sent me and my ass into his bubble. Being a bad girl and wanting to catch some mild action before returning to Florida, I let my ass pressed against his dick linger too long to be considered an accident.
He look down at me and smiled. He called me “ma” or “shawty” but I completely ignored his idea of an endearing term and focused on his smooth complexion and neatly twisted locs. The brother was fine.
Too bad I never felt is dick pressed against my ass again.
Our female tour guide and her ‘tude ruined the evening. She completely snapped on us and cut the night short by walking out of the quasi club/restaurant/bowling alley in a silent raging fit.
She ruined Faye’s birthday and made it her mission to ruin the rest of our trip. Little did she know, Faye and I enjoy driving up and down the numerous Peachtrees completely lost but laughing nonetheless.
The morning after, we made our way to this quaint breakfast café (minus the tour guides) and enjoyed a day without drama or anymore tortuous visits to the CNN Center and the Coca Cola Factory.
We did a little shopping, met up with some peeps, all while fighting back the the overwhelming desire to relocate to Atlanta.
We met up with this guy…this intelligent, genius of a man. Maybe it was his locs or the interaction between him and his daughter, but I instantly became intrigued by this genius. It was so random because he’s older and way too intelligent to fuck, but gosh! the nigga is the truth!
Plus he just looks like his dick is HUGE!
I made no sexual advances towards him and I doubt he noticed me checking his package out. We stayed in the house that night with of course the two tour guides. It was boring and against what we wanted, but it was drama-less and probably the right thing to do.
We left Atlanta without getting high, without getting fucked, without visiting Peters Street. We left Atlanta with the realization that women are fucking crazy and that the next visit can NEVER include boring and unhappily engaged tour guides.
So we packed up our clothes and went. We made no significant plans other than to wild the fuck out. Only problem was, upon our arrival we were assigned two tour guides: Faye’s best friend from middle school and the chick’s spineless fiancée. They, well actually he, took us everywhere. Dude even came to the club with us on her birthday. It was so awkward because chick had a straight up ‘tude and the fiancée was the only Irish man in the club.
And to call this place a club would be utterly erroneous. I don’t know what it is about Atlanta, but them folk up there are on some other level shit. Like, I expected to dance and have fun, but everyone else @ Dolce was under the impression that fun involves standing in a circle while looking at others so the same.
No one was dancing. Everyone was just standing. It was just too weird.
And to make matters worse bitches are completely rude! Like, I’m used to saying, “Excuse me” while shifting someone to the side in the quest for another martini, but these pretentious muthafuckers would just bow a bitch and keep on trucking.
Not to mention, the only dick I rubbed on that entire evening was this dude who was standing behind me in line awaiting the privilege of entering the “club”. It was a complete accident; this chick backed into me and sent me and my ass into his bubble. Being a bad girl and wanting to catch some mild action before returning to Florida, I let my ass pressed against his dick linger too long to be considered an accident.
He look down at me and smiled. He called me “ma” or “shawty” but I completely ignored his idea of an endearing term and focused on his smooth complexion and neatly twisted locs. The brother was fine.
Too bad I never felt is dick pressed against my ass again.
Our female tour guide and her ‘tude ruined the evening. She completely snapped on us and cut the night short by walking out of the quasi club/restaurant/bowling alley in a silent raging fit.
She ruined Faye’s birthday and made it her mission to ruin the rest of our trip. Little did she know, Faye and I enjoy driving up and down the numerous Peachtrees completely lost but laughing nonetheless.
The morning after, we made our way to this quaint breakfast café (minus the tour guides) and enjoyed a day without drama or anymore tortuous visits to the CNN Center and the Coca Cola Factory.
We did a little shopping, met up with some peeps, all while fighting back the the overwhelming desire to relocate to Atlanta.
We met up with this guy…this intelligent, genius of a man. Maybe it was his locs or the interaction between him and his daughter, but I instantly became intrigued by this genius. It was so random because he’s older and way too intelligent to fuck, but gosh! the nigga is the truth!
Plus he just looks like his dick is HUGE!
I made no sexual advances towards him and I doubt he noticed me checking his package out. We stayed in the house that night with of course the two tour guides. It was boring and against what we wanted, but it was drama-less and probably the right thing to do.
We left Atlanta without getting high, without getting fucked, without visiting Peters Street. We left Atlanta with the realization that women are fucking crazy and that the next visit can NEVER include boring and unhappily engaged tour guides.
I'm Back...
I know it’s been awhile, but things have been a little hectic and school always comes first.
So darlings...how have you been? Any new developed drama? Met a man? Met a woman? Acquired a new sex partner?
I had to put the blog on hold because of finals and I’m dealing with the harsh reality that my absence has probably caused me to lose a few readers. I’m truly sorry but you’d be delighted to know that my grades this semester were, well how should I describe them…ummm…they were the TRUTH!
I’m so freaking happy!
This has been my best full semester since this law school hazing process began. I performed well this summer, but balancing five classes in which two were worth 4 credits was extremely difficult, but very doable. I want to give a shout out to my study group and this extraordinary man I plan to marry one day (lol) who has always equipped us with what we need to succeed.
No, but really, for all those who were there for the daily overdoses of caffeine and the ultimate discovery that Steak & Shake has happy hour from 2-4 (which by the way is totally inconvenient for those with jobs but for stressed law students sitting @ home or the library until the sun sets, its perfect!) I applaud you and pray your efforts to figure out what the hell Rule 10(b)(5) is actually paid off.
Aside from learning what character evidence is and how to conduct myself in the courtroom, I learned…well actually opened my eyes to the fact that women are fucking crazy!
Sometimes I wish that life lessons could be acquired through reading an overpriced textbook, but I guess having to experience personally that some folk are just plain toxic in your life is the only way to realize that some people just don’t, won’t ever, and have no interest progressing in their personal lives.
Now, I know most have made New Year resolutions. Mine are 1) to become more organized, 2) to appreciate that cleanliness is not next to Godliness but it makes it a lot easier to find shit when you’re in a rush, 3) to workout more, and 4) just focus on what I want.
Some of us try to rid ourselves of certain vices: chocolate, fast food, men who provide the promise that you’ll cum all night (which you do) with the excuse that they’ve been hurt in the past (boo fucking hoo) and just can’t do that whole “relationship” thing.
It’s never easy to cut something or someone out of your life, but entering the New Year with hopes to become a better person is worth the attempt. We make personal resolutions each year, but wouldn’t’ it be better if we could make them for our friends and force their asses to comply with the order.
I would love to assign my homegirl with the resolution that letting the nigga go is MANDATORY and force her to realize he will never be her man and is probably fucking his roommate and has no interest in the word monogamy WITH HER, but will more than likely find a woman who actually possess self love and wife her within a year of meeting each other.
I’d tell my homeboy to let go of the fallacy that dreams come true when you move to Atlanta, that he needs to formulate a detailed plan and let the pole dancer go because she’ll never get a 9-5 because who would change their 5 year career of obtaining over $600 in three hours each night while the other drones work 40 hours a week and make less.
I’d tell my mother to stop relying on “wisdom” and get her shit together and while working on herself also work on cutting the fucking umbilical cord and GIVE US FREE!
But I can’t force others to want something for their lives just because I know they deserve and need and will probably never proposer without MORE.
So my other resolution, probably the most difficult, shall be to let go…let go of wanting people to change, let go of my own fallacies, and let go of those that just don’t, never will, and have no interest progressing in their lives.
So darlings...how have you been? Any new developed drama? Met a man? Met a woman? Acquired a new sex partner?
I had to put the blog on hold because of finals and I’m dealing with the harsh reality that my absence has probably caused me to lose a few readers. I’m truly sorry but you’d be delighted to know that my grades this semester were, well how should I describe them…ummm…they were the TRUTH!
I’m so freaking happy!
This has been my best full semester since this law school hazing process began. I performed well this summer, but balancing five classes in which two were worth 4 credits was extremely difficult, but very doable. I want to give a shout out to my study group and this extraordinary man I plan to marry one day (lol) who has always equipped us with what we need to succeed.
No, but really, for all those who were there for the daily overdoses of caffeine and the ultimate discovery that Steak & Shake has happy hour from 2-4 (which by the way is totally inconvenient for those with jobs but for stressed law students sitting @ home or the library until the sun sets, its perfect!) I applaud you and pray your efforts to figure out what the hell Rule 10(b)(5) is actually paid off.
Aside from learning what character evidence is and how to conduct myself in the courtroom, I learned…well actually opened my eyes to the fact that women are fucking crazy!
Sometimes I wish that life lessons could be acquired through reading an overpriced textbook, but I guess having to experience personally that some folk are just plain toxic in your life is the only way to realize that some people just don’t, won’t ever, and have no interest progressing in their personal lives.
Now, I know most have made New Year resolutions. Mine are 1) to become more organized, 2) to appreciate that cleanliness is not next to Godliness but it makes it a lot easier to find shit when you’re in a rush, 3) to workout more, and 4) just focus on what I want.
Some of us try to rid ourselves of certain vices: chocolate, fast food, men who provide the promise that you’ll cum all night (which you do) with the excuse that they’ve been hurt in the past (boo fucking hoo) and just can’t do that whole “relationship” thing.
It’s never easy to cut something or someone out of your life, but entering the New Year with hopes to become a better person is worth the attempt. We make personal resolutions each year, but wouldn’t’ it be better if we could make them for our friends and force their asses to comply with the order.
I would love to assign my homegirl with the resolution that letting the nigga go is MANDATORY and force her to realize he will never be her man and is probably fucking his roommate and has no interest in the word monogamy WITH HER, but will more than likely find a woman who actually possess self love and wife her within a year of meeting each other.
I’d tell my homeboy to let go of the fallacy that dreams come true when you move to Atlanta, that he needs to formulate a detailed plan and let the pole dancer go because she’ll never get a 9-5 because who would change their 5 year career of obtaining over $600 in three hours each night while the other drones work 40 hours a week and make less.
I’d tell my mother to stop relying on “wisdom” and get her shit together and while working on herself also work on cutting the fucking umbilical cord and GIVE US FREE!
But I can’t force others to want something for their lives just because I know they deserve and need and will probably never proposer without MORE.
So my other resolution, probably the most difficult, shall be to let go…let go of wanting people to change, let go of my own fallacies, and let go of those that just don’t, never will, and have no interest progressing in their lives.
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