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.