Club Blog

Before I officially start, this might could get Unabomber long. OK? I’m just putting that out there up front so y’all don’t comment that I’ve been strucken with Panamitis (a propensity for long ass entries). It’s gonna take a minute to get to the point.

When I first started blogging it was a couple years ago…Maybe two and a half. The first blog was completely anonymous. Or so I am inclined to think. Except that I know someone I know stumbled upon it but I don’t think he realized it was me. That blog was crazy personal. In writing it, I found evidence to support my belief that ‘Ain’t shyt new under the sun’. So many other people were going through the same things I was going through. Quite reassuring.

All in all, it was a great experience…Being annonymous. As time went on, I saw myself leaning on the blog. Writing there what I should be saying in real life. (Old people, lest we forget the ‘F’ situation?) I’d also off-handedly mentioned this secret blog to a few people. People like Big Shirley who demanded to read it. I had to satiate those folks somehow. Enter, The Kajuana Show. It would be humorous and most of all, not ANONYMOUS. Which meant there was no way I was putting anything really personal on there.

After the first few weeks of having two blogs, I got tired. I had realized the anonymous one was a crutch and decided to let it go. But when I did, when I focused just on maintaining The Kajuana Show, I started to wonder things that had never crossed my mind before. I wondered how blogging affects social interactions. Before I blogged, I thought only fat geeks who reinacted Dungeons and Dragons maintained weblogs. So I was either not in the fat part of the normal curve, or I had been wrong. Maybe everyone on the internet wasn’t a fat virgin who was 35 living in their mom’s basement. But I had to see how this really worked. I mean outside of using it as a journal. Were people really meeting in real life, hooking up, becoming fast friends?? And by ‘people’, I mean BLACK people. Sorry white folks, I know you guys have been blogging and meeting based on online interactions for a while now.

The first thing I did was put a link to my IM name on the page. And surprisingly, people started IM-ing me. I also made it a point to leave comments. And surprisingly, people started writing me back. Then people who I didn’t even know started commenting. This research project was going pretty damned easy thus far. Too bad I didn’t have the forethought to apply for a government grant to do this reasearch. Cus y’all know the gov’t will pay you to reaserach damn near anything.

Then people started IM-ing me regularly. People I’d never met and never intended to meet. We’d shoot the shyt for hours. It’s amazing how much time one can spend chatting with a complete stranger. For me, it was simply that…chatting. However, I’m inclined to believe that a few of the people I’d talk to thought I was really TALKING to them. Sharing with them. But in Kajuanaland, we were just a few people shooting the shyt to make our work days go by faster. (This doesn’t include you–wearing of the spankies with HIS name across them. Or all of the others from the old, Pre-Kajuana Show blog.) And I will say, I’ve had some wonderful conversations with people from all walks of life because of the whole blogging thing. And, I have every single IM conversation I have ever had. Even the ones I thought I lost. Every. Single. One. Of. Them. So if you’ve said/written some foul stuff about someone…Well, I still have the convo. Trillian–check it out.

The more I talked to folks though, the more I wondered if relationships built online were similar to those built in the real world. There were people who were honest and ginuine. But there were also people whose intentions weren’t so nice. Except that online, if someone was honest, they were super honest. And if someone was deceitful, they were super deceitful. In both cases, participants’ e-courage was a driving force. The courage to speak truths they might not in real life. The courage to do things they might not be afforded the opportunity to do.

In Brown Shuga’s Behind the Blog, I asked her how this mode of communication has affected her and her peers. And, right around the same time I read Panama’s entry about Black Planet Homes and how y’all (Cus I’m Sexiopian) have managed to turn certain web services in to the e-projects. I know people meet on-line and hook up. There are sites designed just for this. Online dating is a multi-billion dollar industry. Remind me to invest. But you’ve gotta wonder how this works through blogging. Since, according to the articles written, blogging is supposed to be about self expression…Not hooking up. More research coupled with common sense and I came to some conculsions.

I remember in one of the earlier conversations with BC, I told him that a man’s internet game seemed to be as follows:

1. Read a blog.
2. Contact writer–if it’s a woman.
3. Chat to access her vibe.
4. Try to get her number. Now see this is interesting because not once has anyone ever come out and asked for my number online. What I have had happen, too many times to count, is a guy start a really good topic of discussion the abruptly say something like, “Dang, I have to go. We can continue this on my way home or I can talk to you tommarrow.” Needless to say, all those conversations were picked back up the next day or never.
5. Talk a few times. If she’s local, she moves up the priority list. Otherwise, you can always visit. Women like that.
6. Get her to meet you somewhere. This is done to access her f*ckability. Because as it’s told to me, “99% of the women who are willing to meet a stranger alone for the first time will get f*cked.”
7. If the woman is a 5 or below, treat her like a 10. This way, she will cling to the man because he’s treating her the best she’s ever been treated. And this treatment fits into her fairy-tale. But if the woman is a 6 or above, treat her like she’s a two. This confuses her and she clings to her internet buddy more because she can’t see why some internet clown is dogging her.
8. Hit. And hit often.
9. Become unavailable. He all of a sudden has to work. Bullshyt. His ass has blocked you from his IM client.
10. Rinse and repeat. And by ‘repeat’ I mean move your operation to another circle of bloggers or another blogging service.

And in response to the plan layed out above, the woman does the following:

1. Read blog.
2. Comment and try to do so in a way that makes her stand out from the rest.
3. Chat to see if he’s really a nice guy.
4. Exchange numbers. Afterall, he is a nice guy. (Translation: he fits the fairy-tale she has in her head.)
5. Talk.
6. Go out. Stop right here. The woman thinks this is a date. He will pay but it’s not a date, it’s an interview.
7. Tell all your friends about a wonderful person you met online.
8. Have sex with him.
9. Be considerate of his schedule.
10. Wonder what the heck happened.

These are the patterns I’ve noticed. Because those patterns exist, it does not mean the one blogger who met his love because of his blog (wink-wink) is doomed. Nonetheless, the roles men and women play online aren’t far from what they’d play were they to meet in a club, the grocery store, or the gym.

The only difference is in backround checking. It seems people do a far more thorough background check when they meet someone in person. Maybe Black people are less aggressive with their background checks when meeting people online because the whole internet thing is still sort of taboo in our community. Normally, people ask around to see if a person is married, crazy, etc. But on the internet, not so much.

In the real world, people lie all the time. People take advantage of those in need of attention all the time. But never, before I started blogging, did I think it could be done on the internet. I thought people would have to have some face-to-face time before they lost all grasp of logic. Sure, I’ve heard of dating sites. Those sites are set up with hooking up as their purpose.

Some would think that the ability to run game on the internet means you have a Ph.D. in gaming. I disagree. If these same men were in a regular situation, where they’d have to be whitty on demand, they would foiled. But on the internet, it’s easier to compose a perfect response…Even if it takes ten minutes to write one sentence. I dare you to take these same men to a gathering and they would wilt. Let’s not even think about ever taking them to the club to run game. Why, they’d probably start stuttering and shyt their pants. Now, that would be funny.

And the women, if most of these women were on the street, they may not get the attention they get on the internet. On the internet, women who might not get attention, get attention, and get played, just like other women do in real life. So manybe the interent levels things out for them.

It’s not my business to expose anyone or call them out by name. Besides, they’d only make disparaging remarks about me to the women and those women would accept what the men say as fact. Women are funny that way. And by ‘funny’, I mean stupid or desperate for attention. What I will say though, is that I’m tired of it. I almost kinda of feeling sorry for these women and tired of being sickened as the men brag and bask in the glow of their latest internet conquests. But not really because I just see the game is still the same, just partially electronic.

Bad Good As You Wanna Have to Be

I have a couple frociates who call upon me for my lady opinion. Last night one called with some really-really ridiculous shyt. Some little girl, cus I do believe she’s 12, is tryna run game on him. I’m offended. First, her game is so lower case ‘g’. Second, with it being so weak, I take it as an insult to his intellect…And by forced extention, an insult of my intelligence.

Why is it that when people lie, especially in relationships (committed or not) they don’t match their lies to their opponents experience and common sense?? Back when I was still having dealings with the Devil…I keep saying for you to remind me to tell that story but nobody has so whatever…Several of my friends saw him around with this one chick. Well, when I confronted him about it…Remember, I was younger and dumber than I am now. Cus y’all know a present day Kajuana would be like, “F*ck you and the horse you road in on!…He told me, get ready to laugh, “Those people aren’t your friends because they wouldn’t tell you stuff that might hurt you.”

Da f*ck?? Have you ever heard such utter lunacy?? Naw, go ahead and be stunned. That had to be the most stupid shyt I had, in my 21 years, ever heard. It was so stupid that I think I chuckled a bit. But then I got mad. Mad because he didn’t think I was smart enough to call bullshyt just that: BULLSHYT!! As you can probably tell, his piss-poor cover-up lies were a huge problem.

When I lie, IF I lie, which I rarely do because I’m pretty damned good at it and I choose to use my talents for good, not bad. I choose to use my talents to get out of speeding tickets. Speaking of speeding tickets…Years back, I got pulled over on BW Parkway. Ladies, when I tell you the officer was fine, please believe he was. He was so fine that instead of me coming up with an excuse as he walked from his poilice cruiser to my car, I was too busy admiring him in all his hot-sexxxy glory. Oh hell yes, he was THAT fine. Snapped back to reality when he got to my window…FUCK!!! I couldn’t get a ticket. I wouldn’t get a ticket. Think!! I looked down at my lap, thought about pushing out some tears. And just as he stepped to the side of my car, I had an idea. I had on a bone colored pants suit. Do you know where I’m going with this?? I told this fine man that I had a feminine issue and I had to speed hope to change my pants, etc. Needless to say, Kajuana escaped that ticket.

But right now, I want to talk about one particular situation for which so many of the most half-assed lies are told. GOING OUT OF TOWN. Some of you are planning to go out of town right now. You’re telling someone you date a lie about where you’re going, who you’re going with, and/or how long you’ll be gone. Because I care, let me him you to the two things I think gets people caught the most. Work and socializing. If you tell a significant other that your ass is gone out of town and will return on Monday, please let your co-workers know. Cus if someone calls your office, the work people are quick to say, “He stepped out for lunch.” And if you happen to be at work when you should be out of town, just don’t answer your work phone. How the hell can you be out of town and still answer your work phone?? The second way people get caught is by not being able to stay their asses in the house or at unpopular places. If you are supposed to be up in NYC visiting your sick granny, nursing her through her third battle with breast cancer, how the hell are you sitting in plain view eatting a steak down at Charlie Palmer’s?? Hello, there’s a new thing called camera phones. And if your significant other doesn’t see you, someone else will.

Maybe it is true that we’re only as smart as we have to be…As smart as the people we deal with. When it comes to lying, no matter how much you plan, you can never cover all of your bases. Especially if you’re lying to a smart person. The best you’re going to do is cover 96% of all the possibilites. Yes, I’ve done the research and math to get this percentage! But, if you must lie, always tell your best lie. Look at who you’re lying to. And if you think you ‘got it like that’ and don’t need to put some extra thought into your lie, then you probably do.

Oh and for you regular readers who let my post sit all dayum day with an imprpoerly spelled title, fugg-ewe!!! Y’all know how busy I’ve been at work!!! Y’all could have hit me on IM or something!! Dayum!!! I bet their are typos in today’s entry too. But I’m too busy to edit. So there!!!

A Shortie or Two

I so enjoy poking fun at present day slang. Apparently, shortie means baby. I gathered this from context clues. So if I’m using it incorrectly, let a lady know.

Why do educated men have issues dating women with a kid or two?? Back in the day, when I was with F, and I know most don’t know who F is, I remember him telling his friend, “Get you a chick with a kid. Maybe she’ll be a 5. You don’t have to take her anywhere. Just bring movies over, play with the kid a little and she’ll be happy…You can chill at her house when you don’t want to be with the folks. Plus you don’t ever have to worry about her sneaking up on you in the club cus women with kids can’t just up and go like other women can. Baby-sitters don’t grow on trees.” This friend was newly out of graduate school and living with his parents until he got on his feet.

Was I mortified?? I was too ‘in-love’. Never fret, once I was out of that haze of love, I was undone at ther perception. Undone because it might-could be true. Single mothers, from what I’d been seeing, exuded something that said, “I will take what I can get because I’m damaged goods.” But when I really-really looked at the women, you know-looked beyond the surface shyt, I saw that it wasn’t having the kid that made them so accepting of the bull and his shyt. It was a whole smattering of other issues leading me to believe even without the shortie, they’d still put up with crap by the pound.

Fortunately, all young (40 and under), childless, educated men do not look at the single mother as being an ass source and a place to lay his head. Nevertheless, they still choose not to seriously date them. Why? Is it because they think the baby-daddy can always come back?? Cus for-real, for-real, some of the women do think the shortie’s dad/ex-husband is going to come back and finish the fairy-tale they started. Is it because they want her undivided attention and don’t want to have her time split between being his lover and someone’s mother?? Could they be that selfish?? Is it because they want whomever they end up with to have an un-used womb?? Help me out here!

Educated women will easily date a man with a whole team of babies and matching baby-mommas. Why?? All too often these women don’t have to see the kids. Why?? Because the men don’t see the kids. And you know what? These same women ignore the glaring fact that the man is crap. Why is he crap?? Because any man who ignores his babies, his own flesh and blood, his responsibility, will eventually be just as craptastic to you. Sure there are cases where the baby-momma (Have I told y’all how I hate that term?? But I’m only using it to keep with my plan of infusing slang to attract a wider audience.) refuses to let the responsible father see the shortie if he isn’t going to be with her. A judge can clear all that up though!

Another reason educated women are quick to date baby-daddies is because there’s a belief that as you get older, it’s impossible to find a man whose been stingy with his sperm. Men don’t have this issue because even if they are 40, they can still get with a childless 24 year old and most people won’t look at them like they’re a dirty old man. Is this fair?? Heckie naw!

It is no true that every person over 35 has a child and if they don’t there’s something wrong with their equipment. I’m tired of hearing that. People, it’s called being responsible! It’s called planning. It’s called BIRTH CONTROL!! Look into it. Nor is it true that every single mother (or father) made the child because they were being irresponsible. Divorce rates are high. A lot of people are single parents because of divorce. Ya see, they got married and it didn’t work out. Marriage? You heard of it??

But this isn’t about that. It’s about how men folk are writing off some perfectly good women because she has a shortie, or two. It’s about the double standards we cling to when it comes to parenthood. It’s about men being able to get away with living their lives as if they don’t have a shortie!! It’s about realizing if you’re dating some who has a child and s/he puts that child on the back-burner for you, they aren’t shyt! And if you breed with that person, they will do the same to your child.

Lots of women think their husband/man’s baby-momma drama is cute. They say, “He wouldn’t never try no stuff like that with me!” To which I say, “Bitch please!” Go your dumb ass on and have babies by his trifling ass and see how it goes down. And it kills me to hear men talk about how horrible their shortie(s) mother/ex-wife is. Well kind sir, you married/laid down with her!! She was a hot-shytty-mess before the baby came so why are you complaining now?? Oh cus now you’re stuck dealing with her. Go sing that song to someone else!

Read The Comments

Let me first say how absolutely pissed I am because I’d written an entire post and forgot to hit save. I lost it but I will try to recreate it. Go read the comments. No really, go read them. Didn’t know this would be such a hot topic for some. There were two comments that stuck out and I’d like to highlight them for further discussion.

C2A wrote:

Any woman (past 28) who thinks there is value in getting ranked higher because of her lack of children is delusional. She is bordering on barren, while thinking she is special. She is special but only because we all are.

When I first read this, I was like, “Dang. C2A goes hard!!! She holds no punches but why’s she tryna down us barren women??” Like Beloved said, I thought I was doing something by not breeding babies I didn’t want and couldn’t afford. Then when I read it a second time, I took note that what she says goes directly against what the men are saying. They’re saying they choose not to deal with women with kids. So they are putting us barren broads above women with kids. And for real, I sincerely think I’m great. Not just because I’m barren, though I consider myself nubile, but because overall, I’m a good person. That is, except when I’m campaigning for Asshole of the Quarter, an award held in high esteem in my social circle. Plus, when I meet men and tell them I have no kids, their eye light with glee. But then they also light up when I say I have no tattos.

Bemused wrote:

Having been on both sides of the equation (i have kids/i dated women with kids) i found your commenters’ words to be pretty arrogant and weirdly funny. i agree with some points - drama needs to be stomped out at the source - but you can’t control everything other people do. truth is, i started LOOKING for women with kids during my latter dating days because nobody is more irritating than a woman without kids trying to tell you how to raise yours. i have been blessed to date single mothers who were straight up magnificent people. They were (understandably) very cautious about allowing the men they dated to meet their children, so i felt blessed to spend time with their usually beautiful and highly intelligent children. of course, my wife tells me i’m weird - that i don’t think like most men. but i’ve always felt that not dating women with kids causes you to miss out on some good women who may have made a relationship mistake in the past. and which one of us can claim that they’ve never done that?

Arrogant?? Funny? They stated their opinions. But those opinions don’t mirror yours so they are funny?? Remember two monologues do not equal dialog. I tend to appreciate everyone’s honesty, even if it’s not in line with mine.

Could it be that Bemused dated some very controlling women who happened to not have kids?? Who knows. He’s a first time commenter so I won’t be too hard on them. I don’t think anyone said anything bad about single moms. I agree that men miss out by passing some of them up. But where I get a little antsy is in the fact that I don’t date men with kids. But at the same time, I say when men ignore women with kids they miss out. But I don’t feel I miss out when I choose not to date men with kids. Then again, for the most part, men with kids don’t even approach me.

As for drama, I sincerely believe, and it took me 29 years to learn this, if you shank a person in the ribs the firts time they raise their hand to do harm to you, they won’t do it again. You set the precident that you will not go for any baby momma/daddy drama. You don’t wait until you’re in another relationship and they are interferring. You must put a person in his/her place at the first sign of craziness.

Oh and I most certainly appreciate the comment Diggs wrote about not letting every dude meet her son!! Love it. It pisses me square off when I hear about harm coming to a child because the parent gave their significant other access with the child without checking to see if s/he was a child beater or molester!

I appologize for the typos and the such. I’m in a meeting, trying to blog, pay attention, etc!

On The Public Service Tip

I apologize for being all relationshippy lately. But dammit. There’s just some shyt I feel I’m duty bound to say. Plus, I’m under my weekly Heaven points quota.

Friday, I had the pleasure of hanging out with a couple of fellas. N and C. We were sitting at C’s house, drinking, shooting the shyt. When I first got there it was just C and I. I noticed he had that book on his coffee table…Which shouldn’t be called a coffee table but an al-k’hol table because that’s what it usually supports. But the book? Oh it was He’s Just Not Into You. I thumbed through it. It only said everything I’ve said here before. It only said what is common sense. It only said the very shyt it took me about 28 years to figure out. It only said what I may have said on some of your comments sections. Bottom line: If a man wants you, he will come the fug after you. No excuses!

I’ll let the ladies toss that around their empty heads for a moment.

But C and I were talking and we started dicussing examples. I, being as duty bound (I do love saying that. You will read it here often. Duty bound.) to my audience as I am, want to share. I’m telling the women these things not because I want them to stop playing themselves by the dozens. Cus for real, I’ve been trying to stop them for ages and dammit if the post 30 crowd still insists on being du-du-dumb-dumb. I’m saying this for the men. I’m saying these things so that my frociates never again have to utter, “If more women would read and internalize what’s in that book, my life would be so much easier.” I’m saying this so dudes can’t think I’m putting all the fault on them. So C, and other single frociates, this is for you. Ladies first. But men, I have some words for you too. Here goes.

Women, screwing a man and hanging out with him does not mean you are dating. It’s doesn’t mean you’re on the cusp of establishing a relationship. All it means is that y’all screw and hang out. Hanging out is not dating. As an example, I think I’ve hung out with 95% of my frociates, one-on-one. Most times they pay. Is that a date? Hell to the muh-fuggin-naw!!!! And no matter what craziness you make up in your head because your hanging out and screwing has moved from once a week to twice, y’all still aren’t dating. Cus so soon as he finds a chick he wants to date, he will date her. And her and you are not one in the same.

BREAKING NEWS: This just in. Kajuana is selling merchandise!!! Matter fact, she went so hard, she’s even selling REAL postage stamps with her picture on them!!! Go ahead and click the flashy link over on the right. You probably won’t see them but if you ask really nicely, I’ll send you the link.

If you are screwing a man that you are not dating and that man hits on other women in front of you, in plane view, he’s not checking for you. If that man later that evening tries to screw you, not only is he not really checking for you, he has no respect for you. Further, if he is not your date to events you both must attend, y’all aren’t dating nor will you ever. So then, the coach of your brother’s team (who doesn’t ask you to the athletic banquet where he knows you will both be in attendence) is really not checking for you.

My very favorite, something I’ve tried to drill into the heads of everyone, if you are a secret, you are not dating. You’re screwing and hanging out. With the exception of work, if a man is proud to be associated with you, he will be associated with you during day-light hours, around your friends and his!!! He won’t be keeping you on the low “cus people would be all in your business.” That there, is some old Devil logic! (I’ve been trying to write a good entry to sum up my time as one of the Devil’s bed buddies. But I can’t quite sum it up neatly. But I’m trying!) If, for example, your social circles cross, people know you’re screwing. People might could be making jokes behind your back and even to your face.

The saddest thing you broads are doing is getting knocked up to keep ties with a man. Da hell is wrong with you people?? I need to get a government grant to research how many babies are concieved post break-up. Ya see, sex after breaking up still means you’re broken up. Sex after you’re 100% sure he doesn’t ever want a relationship with you is still just that. Stop getting knocked up to trap the man. In some rare instances, the man does try to ‘do the right thing’ and marry the woman. And then, he gets a backbone. Women have been trying this tactic for-evuh. In previous generations, it was somewhat successful because of the societal pressures on a man to marry his baby momma. Well guess what cuties, those pressures don’t exist nowadays. Nowadays, you’re playing yourselves more than evuh. If you must screw him after you know he doesn’t want you, please, for the love of all things good and right, take a pill every single morning!!! Just cus you’re an idiot doesn’t mean you should bring a baby into your idiocy.

Now onto the men. Don’t think for a minute you are off the hook. Men, read and take notes if you need to. I want to feel sorry for you. I want to beleive you’ve been honest with these women and told then you want no parts of them. Gosh, I sure want to believe you’re as upstanding in your dealings with women as you are in your dealings with friends and frociates. *hangs head* But the truth is, you have not come out and said, “Sweetie, I’m not checking for you now, nor will I ever.” Nor have you said, to borrow from the book of BMoreK, “This right here, what we’re doing now, this is as good as it’s ever going to get between you and I.” If you haven’t said those things, used no uncertain terms, you are puppet-mastering these women ensuring they not be able to get a tight grip around the truth.

Men, stop screwing these women. Stop having unprotected sex with them. Matter-fact, stop having unprotected sex with anyone. Stop keeping them on the back-burner. Just because they are “open” over you, it doesn’t give you a pass to take advantage. Stop calling them to come screw you when you have nobody in particular you want. Rub one out alone…Cus I know you’re capable. Stop hanging out with them. Stop seeing them at all–which is pretty easy to do unless they are in your direct social circle or work with you–and that’s a post in and of itself. Stop contributing to the madness. Ya see, not only do women need to internalize the hints you give, you need to stop adding fuel to the fire.

I’ve heard the arguement that you aren’t forcing these women to be available. So that might be true. However, you are knowingly taking advantage of them. And that is wrong any way you look at it.

It’s like this *bad analogy alert*, when we were little kids, we’d push envelops. We’d see what we could get away with. If we saw candy or a toy we wanted, even if our parents said we couldn’t indulge until we “insert chore or activity here“, we’d sneak and indulge. But as adults, even when we have the opportunity to steal a piece of unattended candy, we don’t. Or at least we shouldn’t. Grown folks don’t because availability doesn’t give us the right to partake. In short, boys steal, men don’t. As adults, we pretty much know what it means to do the right thing. (Big ups to Spike Lee!) A frociate on the cusp of 30 asked if I had any 30 year old advice. Simply stated, I told him that he should strive to be a better man than he was the day before. And I beg of you all, if you are currently leading a woman on, taking advantage of her emotional state, stop it. You’ll be abetter man for it. I mean unless you want to continue being an asshole. That’s your choice.

Bit, Pieces, and Kneeno Brown @ 30+

You can find anything on the internet. Anything. My linesister, specifically my FRONT, sent me this: www.MyMonthlyCycles.com. Yes boys and girls, you can track your period on the net. I’m wondering what the heck she Googled to get this.

And Sweetback sent me this giggle-worthy piece: http://media.ebaumsworld.com/wmv/blinddateparody.wmv

Yes, as in Nino Brown (NB) from New Jack City. The reason I spelled it that way is because I know for a fact there is a child roaming the streets of DC whose name is Kneeno. Sheesh, what’s wrong with people? But this post isn’t about ghetto names. After all, who would I be to talk about anyone’s name.

Let’s talk about drug dealers. That’s right, the Nino Brown’s of the world. Now usually, I would ignore that my past has been peppered with more than it’s rightful share of NB’s. But this isn’t about them. Recently my girl (L) dated this guy. One of her frociates set her up with this guy. He seemed cool. Seemed like he had himself together. An important point to highlight is that I am from Detroit. My girl lives in Detroit. Detroit is the Harvard of Husslin’. Offering Ph.D. in such widely respected areas as Pimpin’, Sack Chasin’, and Rollin’ (colloquialismsfor drug dealing).

By now, you’re wondering, “Didn’t she post this on her old site?” Sure did but I really had nothing for you guys today. The last couple of weeks have been rough and I forecast the next few will be too. And coming up with great topics isn’t at the top of my Things To Do list. Maybe tomarrow I’ll have something new and better.
Everything was gravy. L’s new friend (NF) was a lot of fun–even though as time went on, she didn’t like him as a boyfriend/husband, but more as a frociate. They had a great time together. Whenever they went places, he was treated like a celebrity. It was close to camera’s flashing. Even the elderly they encountered seemed ultra respectful of him.

NF talked about how their lives together would be. They talked about how much she owed on her car, home, etc. Even went so far as to discuss whose home they’d sell when, yes I say WHEN, they married. NF suggested they take trips to the south, buy land, and/or have a home in the southern region. Lastly, he made a special effort to bond with her young daughter.

About a month or so into the “relationship” L started having dreams. Dreams about her and her small child being watched and on the run. Even though the NF was featured in the dream, she didn’t quickly connect the dots. More time went on and L decided, due to the guys wacktasticity, that she would move him into the frociate zone.

Fast forward to last week. L speaks to the frociate who initially hooked her up with the NF. Frociate tells her NF is indeed a big time drug dealer. Why would a frociate hook her up with a drug dealer. She’s a degreed, hard-working single mother. All of her life is on the up and up. Anyway, the dreams she was having was just her subconscious telling her to get away from NF.

Fast forward to today. L called to tell me that she’d looked NF up. Google? No. Offendersearch.com!!!! Every state has one!! Check your mate out. Sure enough, he was there. NF had told her about an incident in Mexico. He presented it to her like it was something that happened a long-long time ago–maybe in his mispent youth. But what L found out about NF was that he was a recent release. That’s right boys and girls, he had just gotten out of jail this summer. And. He would be on probation until the end of 2005. No mention of anything in Mexico.

All this got me to thinking. Men in our age range who sell drugs are probably the lucky ones who haven’t gone to jail or been killed. Which means, they’ve probably put in more years in the game and have risen as a result. What am I getting at? If we meet a cat who is a drug dealer, he’s not your average corner selling guy. He’s probably got a couple of businesses to cover his income. He probably looks like he’s on the up and up. And he could probably pretend to be on the up and up with most college educated women, not from places like New York, Chicago, and Detroit. Because we know what to look out for. Even if we don’t see it, we feel it–which is why L was having those dreams.

For the rest of the women, they probably have not a clue what to look for or what it feels like. So this is where the pedagogue in me takes over…

Lesson One: Serious drug dealers often are known(a la Ray Edmonds, Butch Jones, Nino Brown, etc). People want to be their friend. They want to be on their good side. You will feel like you’re walking down a red carpet every time you go out. When you go to the barber shop with him, the car wash, the club, eating etc. You are a star. Most women are fooled by this alone because being with this man makes them feel extra special.

Lesson Two: Serious drug dealers have no regard for your work schedule. They will often offer to supplement your income if it means you will be at their disposal. To the untrained eye, they appear helpful. They do not have anywhere to be in the morning. They do not work. They may own business(es) but they never do much related to them. Hell, they may even have an office, stationery, business cards, etc. But they never actually do anything. Not only do they expect you to miss work for them, they expect you to always drop everything for them. No telephone. No friends. No family.

Lesson Three: Serious drug dealers will take on all of your financial responsibilities. Then they will ask you to do a gateway task. What’s a gateway task? The drug dealer will ask you to do something small. Maybe get a cell phone for him in your name. Maybe ask you to switch cars. Now, a dumb chick will go for this. And once she does, he knows he’s got her. He changes her lifestyle and she become in debt to him. At least mentally. Plus, by the time she knows what’s going on, she’s in too deep and everything is already in her name. He goes from asking her to perform the gateway task to having her put everything he purchases in her name.

Lesson Four: Serious drug dealers like taking trips. In fact, they are a lot of fun. Depending on the level at which he’s functioning, I mean if he’s a true Boss Type N*gga, your first trips will be ‘down south’ to either check on or purchase another home. This will be his hide away spot. You will drive. Serious drug dealers don’t like to fly unless they are leaving the country.

Lesson Five: Serious drug dealers almost always frequent certain spots. For example, they get their car detailed at the known drug dealer car detailing spot. When they roll up–and they will take you with them, everyone will stop what they are doing to deal with his car. They get their hair cut at a known drug den. And they will take you with them. Ya see, their fellow dealers own these establishments. Gotta support your own–right??

Lesson Six: Serious drug dealers do not have baby momma drama. Why? Because either she’s afraid to show her ass or has no reason to–because when the money is right, she’s happy.

Lesson Seven: Contrary to popular belief, serious drug dealers are not flashy. Yes, they may own multiple cars, fancy cars. But nothing someone with a regular job couldn’t afford. They also live in rather modest homes. But the thing is, they may have several of them that they do not rent out. See Lesson Four.

Lesson Eight: Serious drug dealers, if they are the BOSS, and if they really like you, they will not be late. At first. That is, until they have you where they want you. Why? Because people operate on their time, not the other way around. He will arrive for dates on time, if not early. All making him appear to be the perfect gentleman.

Lesson Nine: Serious drug dealers, who have either been to jail or were themselves raised by drug dealers, are neat freaks. Anal to a fault. They expect everything to be clean and perfect at all times. Why? That’s the way things are in jail. And if they were raised by and/or around other drug dealers, the neatness seed was planted in them as a tot.

Lesson Ten: Serious drug dealers gamble. When I say gamble, I mean thousands at a time. This is why they love Detroit, Vegas, and Atlantic City so much. They will drop thousands down. But they will win thousands too. You will rarely catch a serious drug dealers shooting craps. They have elevated way beyond those sophomoric games.

Lesson Eleven: Serious drug dealers usually carry a gun. But they do not carry drugs–ever. In fact, most of them don’t even do drugs. No cocaine. No weed. No drinking. And some won’t even take cold medication.

Lesson Twelve: Serious drug dealers give you that uneasy “feeling” while making special effort to make you relax. They are a lot of fun but just below the surface, you know something isn’t right. Even if you’ve never been exposed to this lifestyle before, something just doesn’t feel right. Pay attention to it.

A Few Good Ones

On my way back from an offsite meeting, as usual, I had the radio on listening to that guys who allows his dumbest listeners to comment. Why do I listen? I’ll tell why! Because I can’t bare to listen to the same 15 songs that come on the radio. The same ones I listened to on the way up do nothing for me on the way back down. To civilization, that is.

The topic? The lack of good men. The host, a man, said he’d held an event in the DC area and told every woman invited to bring a good man. To make a long story short, only a few brought men. But the kicker was when the host said he didn’t even know any good men. So when women ask him where all the good ones are, he has nothing to offer. He went on to say that even in his age group, the 45+ ones, they still lie and cheat and what not.

As some old bat yammered on trying to punctuate each sentence with some hip phrase, I thought about all the times female associates and friends looked through my photo albums and asked to be hooked up. Or asked if I knew any good single men. Each of those times, I said nope. And I started going through all the men I know today and thinking, “Would I hook him up with my best friends, sisters, etc?” Again, NO. Sad as it is.

Do I know any good men? Heck yes!! Lots. But none are single (unmarried/in official relationships). The single ones I know lack the honesty and general maturity-in-relationships genes. Further, save the degree and absence of babies, they lack 80% of the character traits these single women want and deserve. Now I will say, those good men who aren’t sinlge, it’s not like they are perfect. I remember being younger, in college maybe, and making the statement that all of the guys I grew up with, the posse from high school, would one day grow up and make good husbands. Sure enough, they all did. Not to say they didn’t do their share of foul stuff. But at some point, the straightened up. Not sure if they chose to or had to. All I know is that they did.

Nevermind the alleged lack of good men. What about good women?? Are the men clamouring for good women? Are all the women jaw-jacking about the lack of men good women?? It’s statistically impossible. They may be good for someone but they can’t all fit the overall ‘every man’s ideal wife’ mold. And what do the women consider good? Broads are quick to list characteristics they want in a man. But if those women looked in a mirror, they don’t have those characteristics. When I assess my female associates and friends, about half of them fit men’s criteria for being ‘good’. Damn shame. So what’s left?

Eww, I can’t believe you’ve read this far. I’m only offering up this half-ass post because a certain blogger, who happens to be a SOROR living on Blogsome Bay, but not the one suffering through hurricane tropical storm Katrina, pretty much strong armed me into providing her with an entry. Gosh!!! So then feel free to blame her for me posting this crap. Crap I wrote weeks ago but found it so craptastic and over-done that I didn’t even bother to finish it.

Dollars on Dimes

I like y’all. I really do. But I’ve been busy lately. So this recycling and half-ass entry thing will have to work for now. I went into the archives, of the old site, and found this gem. If this is brand-new to some of you, you might want to go back and read The Upkeep and the corresponding comments.

Today I want to talk a bit about something that was a spin-off topic in the comments from a previous post. The amount of money men spend. Much like with the whole skin color thing, I’ve floated through life not really bothering to think about how dating works for other people. I’ve been dating for a while. Been in several official relationships. Money has never been an issue. I’ve heard stories about women being on dates and the man asking her if she would be paying for her portion with cash or credit. But it has never happened to me. In fact, I’ve never had a conversation about who pays for what. Have I paid? Sure. But never when it was in the initial stages of dating. Nor have I ever felt like I was expected to. Further, there have been times where I did pick up the bill and my man looked at me like I’d grabbed him by the penis with Edward Scissorhand’s sharp hands.

I’m starting to really understand that it doesn’t work like this for everyone though. Yes, this is where you shake your head and call me naive. I’ll take that. For my entire dating career, I thought women were getting treated shabbily (Jonelle, 2005) by men because the men were just trifling!!! And that was the only reason. But maybe the man is treating a woman this way because he has judged her as a 7 and he doesn’t give 10 treatment to 7’s. And were he to find himself with the opportunity to date a ‘dime’ he would rise to the occasion, based solely on his rating of her looks and not how she carried herself or anything! I’m not so stupid as to think looks have nothing to do with the quality of pursuit. But in my mind, I’d rationalized that if a man is a 7 and he dates a female 7, he treats her the same way a 10 man would were he dating a 10 woman. So then there would be many cases where the 7 women get dime treatment. Maybe I’m wrong though.

Based on what the fellas said in my comments (for the Up Keep post), it’s not so simple. It seems like the men don’t really rate themselves. Men with high self-esteem think they should get the ‘dime’ so long as they are willing to do what they think it takes to get her. And men are willing. But they never explain exactly how, or under what circumstance the ‘regular’ (currently undefined) women could get treated like ‘dimes’. There has to be a way! Do the ‘regular’ ones every even have a chance?

So now, I will cheat a bit and actually post some of the comments I received in the Up Keep post. Why? Because they are an entry that damn near writes itself and because they seemed to be an honest explanation of why some men treat some women a certain way. And it also seems like a few of the men are saying the very things that women try to convince themselves isn’t the truth: How a woman looks has a lot to do with how much money a man spends on her in the initial stages.

E said:
There is a radio host in California his name is tom leykis. Big ugly nasty looking mofo but he has looked at the dating scene in fast pace cali and come to the conclusion that. Women who are attractive 9’s and 10’s can afford to be pushy and selective on what they want. Most women want the nicer things. Most men want nicer things. A woman’s beauty is a major asset because it is desirable to a man. Because it is a symbol of status it’s all a revolving circle. Women who are not as attractive can opt to not settle for less than whatever it is their expectation. As I can opt to only date women who look like Eva Longoria ( love that woman). Thing about it though, that just slims my odds of being with a woman. I am not saying settle I am just saying if you want to be the 6 or the 7 talking about you only date rich doctors…. be prepared to spend alot of saturday nights alone.

Dr. Strangejazz said:
We ain’t talking about respect and admiration. We talking basic economics.

Here are some broad generalizations.

If a man is with what is considered a dime then he is more open to spending a certain amount of money. Because it is expected of him. But if a man is dating someone who is not a dime he’s going to respect her and whatnot but don’t expect him to spend the same amount on a dime.

Example: If a man is taking a woman out that is a dime he’s going to drop $300 over the course of that night. If a man is dating a woman who is average (I’m NOT GOING TO DEFINE WHAT AVERAGE IS) he’s going to spend maybe half of that ($150)

This ain’t about respect. This is about $$$
A Woman no matter how independent they consider themselves wants SECURITY. So all that spending a man does when he first gets to know a woman is his way of saying LOOK I CAN TAKE CARE OF YOU. Men are taught this early in life, it is only later on that we are UNTAUGHT this. And that’s when we discover we have to do other things to get her attention (ex. Be nice, listen more, etc.)

Then BC said:

The money a man spends in these situations isn’t about the woman. It’s about his perception of himself and his ability to provide. The woman is an innocent bystander, a pro bono beneificiary, if you will. She is replaceable and just fits the mold for the perception that the man is trying to show the world. It’s all about what the money and the woman on his arm tell the world about him.

Secondly, it is true that certain men care only about themselves…. and these are the men who will spend more money on a woman for no other reason than she’s fine.

Then BmoreK said:
A lot of times a mans pursuit and/or expenditures on such women who are considered dimes is all about HIM. Its his self image and ego at stake. These are the kinds of women he sees himself with, so he’s willing to do certain things, put up with certain things, pursue a different way for longer periods etc. I once told you Kajuana that in my experiences, the prettier the woman, the more likely she was crazier than a MTF. But you know what, put me down for two cups of crazy-extra SPLENDA.

So basically, the dudes are saying, if you aren’t the hot-ness, you might as well resign yourself to a life of chain restaurants and dutch dates?! I’m trying not to believe that. But as I look around, this is exactly what is going on. Right before my freaking eyes!!!! This can’t be right! It can’t be this simple!!! Because if it is, my whole positive outlook and all the stuff I’ve been telling my “friends” who are treated shabbily, is a load of crap. If what my male commenters are saying is true, I can no long say and believe, “When the right one finds you, he will treat you like a queen.” What I should be saying is, “When a man gives up on getting a ‘dime’ he will settle on having you and you need to just be happy.”

For original comments, click here.

Perfect Match

This post inspired by this post written by my soror, Beloved.

It’s no secret, which sorority I belong to. Gosh, doesn’t that sound cultish? Belong to? Most of the people reading this know that certain sororities match certain fraternities. Yes, I’m dumbing this down. Anyhow, I would guess my ideal is supposed to be a certian gold boot wearing, barking man. Ha! The one I’m supposed to be drawn to…A perfect match for. Thanks Edna, Frank!

Side Note: As I’m writing this, in my mind I head that song from School Daze, Perfect Match.

And I know, based on so many of my friends/frociates who are members of the pan-hell organizations (Save the Iotas cus I have yet to befriend one of them. Honestly, and don’t tell them I said this, I think they are an urban legend. Afigment of some drunken UPS workers imagination. K-U-N-Spiracy indeed. Remind me to detail that one later.), that some of us have this idea that our mate must be a member of a certain fraternity or sorority. For some, it’s an obsession.

Funny Story: I know a guy who dated this girl. Thought she was the prettiest, smartest thing this side of Heaven. She’d been making mention of her linesisters here and again. But the man assumed she was either a Delta or AKA. When she said she was actually a Zeta, she immediately became flawed. He said she was still smart and pretty, but her being a Zeta caused him to be preoccupied with finding out what was wrong with her. Afterall, in his Kappa mind, something had to be wrong with her if she wass a Zeta. That was their last date.

I can look at my line along with some of my closest friends who are also sorors, and say we are not all the same. So if a man is looking for a Delta, that wouldn’t be enough to put on his list. We’re all so, so, different even in our similarities, that he’d better be very specific about the Delta he wants. Sure we’re all great. I won’t argue with you on that point. I’m oh so humble. But do we all fit into the same box? Do we all fit the stereotypes?Where’s Will to say it? Hellous Nous! I think this holds true for the other sororities and fraternities. With the exception of Kappas cus we all know how superficial they are. Speaking of them, I am a Kappa magnet. Man!! To protect the not-so-innocent, I won’t tell any specific stories here. But just trust me. Look up ‘Kappa and/or Beige Man Magnet’ and there’s a picture of me!

Thing is, membership in these organizations is a main non-negotiable on some folks’ ‘Perfect Match’ list. They won’t even look at someone who doesn’t know secrets. Someone who can’t wear ‘letters’! Just like some people won’t even deal with someone without at least one degree, this whole sorority/fraternity thing is just that important to some people.

I bet some non-members are asking, “Wow. Is it that deep?” Humh? Lemme think. I do appreciate men who have pledged. And I can’t put the exact thing they have into words. But ladies (Especially ones who crossed burning sands), you know what I’m talking about right?? I’ve done extensive research on this topic. I admit, I’ve dated a full set: Alpha, Que, Kappa, Sigma (Not the Iotas. See note above.). They all had this one thing. Although I can’t say that I’m drawn to just that thing or any particular group for that matter. Truth is, I like men. As an aside, nothing freaks me out more than a man whose hands are softer than mine.

Getting back to who I’m supposed to be drawn to…If the only thing we have in common is our alledged match, that’s just not enough for me. Sure it’s nice for someone to say, “Kajuana, can I be Frank with you…” and I come back with, “So long as I can be Edna with you.” But that’s not enough to base a relationship on. Or is it?

Know what? I’m almost programmed to respond to “Can I be frank with you?” It’s the same respons, “So long as I can be Edna with you.” Not matter who I’m talking to. And I secretly get a kick out of saying it to someone who doesn’t have a clue. Their eyes glaze over as they replay the conversation in a desperate attempt to figure out what the heck I’m talking about.

Now I’m rambling. Point is, in addition to education, personality, ambition, and looks, a lot of educated Blacks expect their mate to be thier Perfect Match or at least in the area–as a member of one of the ‘right’ organization. And, I purposely didn’t even get into all the other organization that come into play as we move further from college.

Springer-esque

Haven’t we all watched our share of Springer? Sat back and laughed or even felt sorry for the people who end up on his stage. How many possible baby-daddies can one woman have? How many Black-acting white women can profess their love and willingness to fight for toothless Tyron? How many best friends can sleep with the other’s spouse or significant other? But at the end of the hour–if we make it through the whole show–we turn the television off and rest easy knowing that our lives don’t at all mirror that of those on television.

We come back to our lives, our normal lives and we think the decisions we’re making are so much better. Well baby, I’m here to tell y’all that they aren’t. I’m here to tell y’all that a lof of us have skeletons in the closet. Hell, some of us have closet doors that are hanging by one henge because the closet is so chocked full with the unfortunate results of questionable decisions. Decisions no different that the average Springer guest.

One thing that always melts my ice is how the women act when they find out their man has been ’stepping out’ on them, (as the old folks say). What do the women do?? They lash out at each other. The logic?? I can’t quite find it. I’ve had women lash out at me over men and I never understood it. I didn’t promise them anything. I was probably just as much in the dark as she was. Who had us in the dark? The man! So my anger focused on him.

Women, what’s so wrong with us that we would choose to place our anger someplace it doesn’t belong?? Is it easier to blame the woman? Is it that we don’t want to rock the boat too much so that maybe at the end of it all the man will choose us?? Is it that we really convince ourselves that if this other woman wasn’t available, our man wouldn’t choose to seek anything outside of us?? This is what we watch on Springer. We say we aren’t like that. But I say we are. I say that we just know better than to not take it onto television and open out closet to the world. That’s the only difference.

I have this frociate. We’ve been cool for years. We’d shoot the shyt over the phone, he might stop by, or we might get a meal. Amazingly, through all the years, we’ve never really discussed relationships. Or at least not the ones were in or have been in. In some way, I just figured this was because he’s such a secret squirrel. Some looking from the outside said it was because he didn’t want to ruin the remote possibility that one day, he might be able to move beyond the frociate box. I never thought much of it.

I’m willing to believe, however, that this frociate kept his situations under wraps because his situations were ones that painted him to be a less than honorable man. In fact, if I were dating someone like him, he’d probably be first in line to kick the man’s ass. This frociate was treating women in the exact way he’d never want his sisters to be treated. Yet, he continued to do it. When I found out how much of a dirty-low-to-the-ground man he was, our frociation tappered off. It was easy for me to cut him off. I guess because our relationship was defined, by me, as frociates. Sure we still see each other but it’s not like before. I see him as either tarnished or undeveloped as a man. Don’t know which one. But I know I don’t want to be frociates with a man like that.

Fast forward to more recent months. He has gotten himself in what could very easily turn out to be a Springer-esque situation. Women’s eyes are rolling, feelings are hurt and guess what? It’s not being directed towards him. He is the problem. He’s the one insisting that these women keep thier ‘dating’ on the low. (Which goes back to my feeling that if you are on the low, there’s some shyt in the game!) He’s the one leading women to believe that he likes them for more than a suck and a f*ck. So why are these otherwise intelligent women pissy with each other??

Luckily, they’re holding thier pissivity in. Not letting it erupt into a fist fight. But you can still see it, just below the surface. You can see it in how they interact. Or maybe I can just see it since I sit so far out of the situation. Maybe I’m just too logical. But there’s no way that at this age, they should not be able to focus their anger and hurt onto the right person!! Him treating women shabbily has nothing to do with him being able to float in and out of various beds. It has everything to do with him being a jerk and with them allowing it by focusing on each other and not him. Further, I’m not completely sure that if the stage was set, the lighting just right, that these women wouldn’t end up in a rock-em-sock-em fight as he stands back admiring his handy-work. Yep, no different at all.

U-Haul, I-Haul

We all know Kajuana’s starting a new job. I’m nervous y’all. This is the first not-at-all-related-to-education job I’ve eveer had. I have to learn a whole new set of laws. I mean I know Special Education laws for the area pretty darn well. And I guess that’s why I’ve been able to get great jobs so easily…Not too many people know the laws. And I’ve never thought twice about making moves.

My good friend was just offered a job in Cincinatti. This is the one who most recently got her Ph.D. in Chemical Engineering. Right now, her husband and her live in Alabama. So they’d be moving for her job. To be honest, it never occured to me that men move for women too. I’ve had a few conversations where I said I’d most certainly move for my husband or fiancee. In the last few days though, this whole moving for a partner thing has been everywhere. Why, just as I’m typing this, there’s an episode of Home Improvement on where Jill is offered a job that would require the family to move. And last week, I heard part of Michael B’s radio show where moving was the topic. Plus, having chatted with my girl as she prepared to make her aggressive pitch to her husband about the benfits of moving to the midwest for this job offer, I started wondering.

At this point in my life, would I really move? The answer is still yes–so long as it was for the good of a relationship with a fiancee or husband. I’ve never had any problems getting jobs (knock on wood). And if we were moving for his job, he’d know that he’s responsible for maintaining my working-girl lifestyle until I get settled.

I wonder if any of the previous Manfriends would move for me–I mean if we were engaged or married. Nerp. Why? Because they’ve all been rather traditional fellas. When I first got offered the new job, they were talks of me needing to spend an entire month away. I told Manfriend then held my breath. I was sure he was going to say something about how this might affect our relationship. Why would I think this?? He’s a rational, supportive man. Not at all like an ex I had who, after I’d gone to a new employee training for one week, demanded that I start looking for a new job because I was away too long. Needless to say, he didn’t last long at all!!! But Manfriend said, “It won’t be that bad. And you can come home one weekends. Plus, imagine how much money you will save.”

What about women who move to follow a man but that man didn’t ask them to move?? I know a chick who did that. She followed a man here to the DC area. He’s long gone and she’s still here. And I always thought the reason he treated her shabbily is because he never asked her to come. Would I move for a manfriend? Tuff one. I know I’ve said I don’t do the shacking up. But, if a man asked me to move for him, I can’t see me doing it on my dime. I can’t see a man getting me to uproot myself and move to live anywhere other than his spot. So then, I guess I wouldn’t move for someone who is only a manfriend. And might even be offended if he stepped to me on some, “Kajuana, you should move here with me…We can go apartment/house hunting for you so you can have a place to stay when you get here…If you start saving now, you can afford the best movers to move your stuff.” I’d be like, “Huh?? You want me to move, find my own place, and foot the bill, all so your ass won’t be lonely?? Die. Just die right here.” *exit stage left*

On the radio show, a lot of women said that in their youth, they’d move. But now? Notsomuch! I wonder if it’s because they have been hurt and are jaded or if they have a better handle on setting limits in their relationships. What do y’all think?? Men, would you ask a woman who your weren’t at least engaged to, to move to a new city to be with you?? Would you expect her to live with you?? Would you pay for the move?? How about a portion?? Women, would you move?? What if it’s just a serious boyfriend??

The Party In Your Pants

First I’d like to thank those who got undone over A’s comments. Y’all are funny. I’d also like to thank the people who kept checking back to see if I was posting. And I wanna send a rap-style shout out to the folks who e-mailed or commented asking about how the new job is going. Fine!! Just getting settled and today’s the first day I could get online. And no, I couldn’t do it from home because MCI is run my arse-wipes and for about 18 hours I had a message on my phone that said “At the owner’s request, 301-___-___ has been temporarily disconnected.” While they were crazy appologetic, I still haven’t been able to get my account credited.

A couple days ago, one of my road dawgs told me a story. Granted, my girl is in another state so maybe it’s not as dangerous to have sex all willy-nilly out there. But here, in the test tube that is inside the Beltway, not being selective can kill you. Hell, even being selective can kill ya. The story basically went like this. Carla and Anthony used to screw. They were going to be at a wedding together. Anthony started calling her the week before the wedding asking if they can hook up after the wedding.

To make a long story short, when Carla gets to the wedding, Anthony is with a date. Anthony gets away from date, rolls to Carla and puts $100 bill in her bra. As the evening ends, Anthony’s date goes home. Anthony and Carla end up at a hotel. And I’m not mad at him. He paid good money for the pusseau!!! And in this case, Carla was a straight hoe. Not that anything is wrong with it. So long as she was a careful hoe. Carla got mad because she was treated like a hoe. How? We’ll get to that in a minute.How does one advertise and/or accept payment but then get mad when the treatment matches their industry??

But what I am mad at, what burns my toast, melts my ice, and floods my basement is that somewhere during the act, Anthony takes off the condom and skeet-skeet-skeets all up in Carla. Now fellas, after a certain age, let’s say 25, don’t you know that a woman who screws anyone is the last one you want to be in unprotected?? Carla was all upset and kept saying how pissed she was. At who?? At herself for allowing this?? At herself for being a $100 piece of ass?? (I don’t know the going rate for ass nowadays, but it has to be more than $100.) At him for knowing she is the type he could do this to?? For knowing he was a low-to-the-ground piece of trash but you still laid up with him??

This situation inspired me to post about the Velvet Rope. You ever notice how everyone wants to get in the club, or section of the club, with the velvet rope?? Ever notice how people will stand in an orderly line to get past that rope?? They will call in favors just to get their names on the VIP list. Ever notice that adding a velvet rope, or extra level of security, to anything makes people want it?? Ever notice that once security becomes relaxed and they start letting people with jeans and Tims in, the quality of the club drops?? This is because people like to feel special. People like to be in the in-crowd. I don’t know if this is nature or nurture. But I know it exists.

Stay with me on this.

So then why is it that broads don’t treat their pussea like an exclusive club?? I love sex as much, shoot, probably more than a lot of people. However, this doesn’t mean that I’ve swung open the gates and invited every man who winks my way into my League of Extraordinary Men!!!!! Do I think they won’t go elsewhere if they can’t get admission into my club?? Heckie naw. Let them go tear someone else’s club up. I pay too much in insurance to have some motley crew of surly men make my premiums rise!!! Plus, I value my property.

Why do certain clubs go from three layers of velvet ropery to allowing Ray-Ray in?? Money!! They are greedy and want to make more loot. Why do a lot of women have no pusseau admission standards, I’m really starting to think that pusseau is all they have. They think this is their only way to get the attention of men. I’m starting to think that many of these women, deep down, just crave male attention. And instead of saying, “Look, I’m trying to get it any way I can.” they claim they just love sex so much that they need to screw ever Bob, Dick, and Shaft!! If that’s the phase you are in, for the love of decresed HIV rates, use protection and stab any man who takes it off!!!

What’s with men slipping condoms off all CIA-esque?? Why don’t men have any firm sperm distribution standards?? Usually their standards aren’t too high. If she’s willing, most men will do her–even if it has to be kept on the hush. I’ve said I think men should know better by 25. I still stand by that. Not only that, but I think some men just are dumb. So in case you’re having trouble rationalizing why you should be stingy with your sperm, wear protection, and/or turn down the pusseau or not pursue the pusseau of a woman who’s like a door-knob (everyone gets a turn), lemme ’splain it for you as simply as I can. Why are you selective about the places you go, the car you drive, and the broads you let meet your family?? Because you have standards!!! Why don’t those standards always translate into who you lay unprotected with?? Because you take the easy route. But you have to know that a gazzillion men before you have taken that same route and skeet-skeet-skeeted all up and through that same road. And you know just how filthy your brethern are. Is easy pusseau worth dying for??

If death isn’t enough, would you want your children, especailly your daughters, raised by easy pusseau?? Would you want to have to deal with the person connected to that easy pusseau for a minimum of 18 years?? Think about your pockets and the heartbreak you will feel when your five year old daughter visits for the weekend and decided to drop it like it’s hot in front of all of your friends. Or when she sits and tells 50-leven stories about all her of her uncles who come and spend the night in mommy’s room.

In closing, I’d like to ask everyone to rush out at lunch time and get a couple things. First, get a velvet rope. If you can’t find one, a red string will due for now. Tie it around you mid-section. Keep it there as a reminder. Train yourself to be selective. Also, on that same shopping trip, stop by a store and pick up some condoms. Sure they cost a lot. But think of this as an investment.

Boy I Think They Like Me

How important is it that your family and friends like your mate?? Is it just enough for them to be civil or do you want them to ginuinely like the mate??

For me, my family lives far so it really doesn’t matter if they sincerely like my signif. Yippie. Back in the day, my mom had access to The Devil. She liked him–just not for me. Most of the parents I’ve met have liked me. Side note: I have met a lot of parents. I’ve been to more family reunions for men I wasn’t even seriously dating, than I’ve been to my own. For whatever reason, folks, and Chandra can testify to this, will invite me to family functions on the first date. End side note. Or at least relatives did a helluva good job pretending. But I wonder would it be enough for them to be cordial but standoffish? Would that affect my relationship with their son/brother/grandson/nephew? What if they lived far away and I only had to deal with them on special occasions. Or what if they pretended to like my nubile ass but only because they were eye-ing my ovaries and my ‘child bearing hips’? Cus y’all know, there comes a point where a single, straight man’s family could care less about who the woman he ends up with is–so long as she’s willing to breed some babies and keep the family name going. And I wonder, for me, is that good enough?

What about the friends? Recently, I had one of my frociates hit me three times for Manfriend’s information. It dawned on me that my frociate might sincerely like Manfriend as opposed to just being cordial because I bring Manfriend around. Frociate knows from previous experience that if Manfriend and I part ways, their relationship will have to be, at the very least, adjusted to not include Manfriend attending any of our group activities. I keep custody of my friends. Y’all know what? My social circle is a lot of fun. Sometimes I think cats like our group activites more than they like me. When that’s the case, it’s curtains. But that’s another entry.

It’s probably a lot easier for men to get along with a woman’s friends than vice versa. I don’t know what it is but way too often, I feel like my frociates’ women are trying to prove themselves to me. Trying to cozy up. I guess they think if I like them, I will help them keep the man in line. WTF-ever. If he doesn’t want to act right, he won’t. I might not let him bring his other women to my home (see X’s post–too lazy to link to it), but I won’t be going out of my way to make sure they wind up with matching burial plots!

How much does your family and friends liking your signif mean?? I’ve got a frociate whose girlfriend, live-in (But he doesn’t really know we all know they live together and knew from the moment it started.) hates us ans we all hate her too. And on the rare occasions that someone allows her to come around, she’s constantly punking him. Eh, made me lose a lot of respect for that man.

I’ve also watched men marry women their mothers/sisters/female cousins hated. I guess they saw something in the woman the men were too caught up to see. Or then again, they just didn’t want to let him go. My mother’s good at this. I recall once my step-brother brought a girl around. My mother looked at her and later told my step-brother that the girl was a hoe. I don’t know what my momma saw, but she ended up being righter than right. I’ve dated men my frocates hated. But never anyone my female friends hated. Maybe, the men saw something in him that the women didn’t. I guess they were blinded by his fineness.

To think about it, I’ve been rather indifferent about any signif’s family. I’ve never tried to get them to like me. Never cared. I always was more concerned that they were cordial and kept it moving. Nor have I given a dusty f*ck about their friends. Again, cordial, but keeping it moving. Because at the end of the day, those are his friends and his family.

I’m understand that if the people closest to your mate don’t like me, they might try to sabotage the relationship. Oh well. If he really wants to be with me, he won’t let them. Take for instance my uncle’s common law wife. We do not like her. Haven’t liked her since we first laid eyes on her. Actually, even before then. But he wants to be with her. And all we can do is not welcome her into our homes and rest knowing that he’s still legally married to someone else. Things would be a lot easier for him if he was with someone the family liked, but oh well. We accept him but not her. Side note: And really. If she’s been with him 15 years or so and is too dumb to make him divorce his first wife, she’s too stupid to have access to our gene pool anyway. End Side Note

And even after writing all of this, in an attempt to figure out just how important that stuff if to me, I still don’t know. Is there anything I’m not considering?

The Farewell Tour

Today I’d like to discuss, and by ‘discuss’ I mean ‘ramble on about’ the Farewell Tour (FT). But before I get into that, can you believe that one of my all time favorite songs has been re-made. Excuse me. Horribly remade. I can’t figure out who is butchering my beloved song but when I find out, he will pay. What song?? More Than Words originally done by Mr. Big. “Sayin’ I love you is not the words I want to hear from you-oo-oo. It’s not that I want you not to say it but if you only knew how e-zee it would be to show me how you feel. More than words…”

FT? For the purposes of this entry, and what I’m about to say, let’s define FT as a set of behavior which occur before a planned major life changing event. Got it? Good. That being said, a lot of men start up their FT the day after they get engaged. Which would be why some cat tried to insta-relationship my ass while his ass was engaged. O, do you remember that dude? Did I tell you how I saw him out and his ring went from the yes-I-am-married finger to the other hand, then to his pocket. And how I made him cry on the second floor of Republic…In front of all his friends?? Good times.

In the past week, a few of the men who never made it into the ‘League’ offered to be members of my FT Entourage. Naw, we ain’t hanging out. Naw, I am not mad at any of y’all. We’re cool. I just choose not to fool with any of you like that. With the exception of one man I’ve dated, the Doc with the perfect back–cus he’s just a good person, I can live the rest of my life not speaking to any of them. What’s messed up is that I can’t, for the life of me, remember what a lot of the major ones look like. I was telling someone not so long ago that aside from saying 80% of them were light-curly men, I couldn’t give any distinguishing characteristics.

Mental Note: Go on ahead and change my numbers.

Da hell? First, if I didn’t want you then, what the heck would make then think I want them now?? I don’t need any new frociates. I’m tryna cut back on the ones I have. By the way, BMoreK, call me cus I erased your number by mistake. FT is supposed to be a time for outlandish behaviors. But who even said I was even on FT status? Just cus I admit to having a manfriend, it doesn’t mean I’m sliding down anyone’s aisle! And even if I was, I’m still not the FT kinda woman.

Truth be told, I’ve been living on FT status for my entire party career (1989-present). I’ve tried to have the most fun I could possibly have in everything I do. And I’m proud to say that even after pulling some illegal stunts, dancing on many stages and in cages (Although that cage thing only happened once.), I have had a helluva time. Good times. Lemme tell ya!!! Do I think that were I getting married I still wouldn’t have fun? Naw. Which is why I don’t believe I’ll ever need a FT.

But if I was about to get engaged, go to Iraq, have surgery, hell even get a wisdom tooth taken out…Now this is where my more masculine thought process takes over…If I was a dude, I would FT til the cows come home. I might not even want to, but I would. Because. I. Can. Because society tells me that I must. Because some even say it’s natural for a man to want to conquor as much ’snatch’ as he can. I’d probably lose my mind. I hit off every piece of ass I could. I’d spend every single one of my frequent flyer miles. Ass in every region. I’d hit every continent if I could!!! I’d do like that kid in Love Actually. Just pack a bag full of condoms. Every woman that offered me ass on the sly, I’d take it. Oh yeah, I’d lose my mind!!!

I don’t know why my thoughts on this are so different for myself as a woman and myself were I a man. Maybe because deep down, I’m an opportunist who’d use any excuse to get my most selfish needs met. And maybe, me being that way is why I keep getting told I’m a penisless man. But where they want the sex, I want the, the, the everything.

The Formula(s)

When I was younger, my friends and I came up with the Break-Up Formula. You were allowed to grieve for 1 week for every month you spent together, if the relationship was less than a year. And 1 month for every year you spent together if the relationship was more than 11 months in duration. A simpler time indeed. We also had a formula for assessing your overall losses post relationship. Let me see if I remember it. Damn me and my imperfect memory. Shoot, as weak as my memory is, you’d think I’ve smoked a lot of green in my day–which I have NOT!

You guessed it. We were nerds. Proud nerds. And we could relate damn near everything to a mathematic formula. What’s worse, is we believed it. But you get older, you get wiser. I can say that since the days of formulas, we’ve all seen our share of love and heartbreak. And I don’t think any of those formulas worked at the time of need.

Today, let’s talk about breaking up. And I will try to stay on topic. Really I will. But if I don’t, oh well. This is The Kajuana Show. I’m the Quentin Tarantino up in the bloggery!! And no you nosey basards, I’m not doing any breaking up of my own. Y’all are like vultures I tell ya.

Different people handle break-ups differently. Some people cry for months. Some people go out and find a replacement. Some people stalk. Some people try to play the ‘friendship’ card. Some people refuse to let go.

I can, for the sake of this post, pretend to have the keys to a successful break-up. Not as the breaker-uper or the break-upee. I want to say that honesty is the key. Yeah, let’s go with that. But can you really tell someone, “Look, I can’t see you anymore because I fear that were we to marry and breed kids, they’d be hairy, stupid, and short, like you and the rest of your family.” As the break-upee, you can’t ask a gazillion questions because it’s likely that even though the other person broke up with you, they won’t want to hurt your feelings with more of the truth.

I once had someone I was attempting to break-up with tell me, “Uh, naw. Your reasons aren’t good enough. That’s not going to work. We’re not done. I’ll talk to you tommarrow.” It was a very Seinfeld moment. And you know what? The shyt worked. In less than 72 hours we were back together. Bastard!

I’ve only had one, what I call, Perfect Break-Up. The key, IMO, to a successful break-up, is making it mutual. But Kajuana, how do I do that? It’s rather simple. You set the stage so that breaking up seems mutually benefitical. Taking it from the stand-point of the breaker-uper, you have to get the break-upee to see that you are not the one for him or her. This tactic has been tried time and time again. Unsuccessfully, might I add. The way it’s been done is to be mean to the other person, hoping s/he will have enough self-respect to just break-up. Never happens. And you know why?? Because love can be the anecdote to self-respect and common sense.

This is where your complete knowledge of your mate will come into play. Ya see, you know what they are looking for. You know what type of person they think you are. What you have to do is become the exact opposite if that person. This doesn’t mean being men to him/her. Just the opposite. Be nice. Be sweet. Be kind. If good credit is important to this person, confess that you haven’t paid a bill on time since Clinton was in office. If education is important to the person, tell them your degree(s) is(are) fake. Instead of getting mad at you because you aren’t responsive in the relationship, the person will simply think your true colors are coming out. They will come to you and break-up. There will be a discussion. You’ll be honest about your concerns and they will tell you you aren’t the wo/man they thought you were. Either that, or they beat you about the head with a candlestick…Professor Plum, in the kitchen, with the candlestick. It should work like a charm. Try it and let me know how it goes.

But if you are the break-upee and you and your mate decide to split, how do you actually get over it?? Even if it’s mutual, how do you get over it? I’m about to drop something on you that will rock the very foundation of the post-break-up ’situation’ as you know it. I don’t think you’re ready. Matter-fact, I should make this a two parter and have you just come back on Monday for the answer. Dang, y’all are lucky I like y’all. And you guessed it. I, and the fine mathematitions over at Kajuana LLC have developed a formula.

(8X + 7Y/12) X (2F - 3B) = L

Just kidding…

The thing that will undoubtedly help you get over a break-up…TIME. Time to grieve. Time to reflect. Time to get used to not having that person by your side during the day and in your bed during the night. Time to go to all the places you used to go to together. Time to listen to yourself and not your friends. Friends can be supportive but be careful who you look to for support. Time to put a root on your former significant other. Just kidding. Even if you run right out and get a replacement, if you don’t give yourself time to get over it, when the newness of the replacement wears off, you still won’t be over that break-up. And it will be years later and your ass will be calling the ex talking crazy. See X’s post about ex’s.

Time…

From the Archives: Equal Opportunity Affliction

It’s no secret, I used to have another more personal blog. And from time to time, I steal entries form there. But that’s not really important. When I was writing that blog, I made a huge self discovery. It really wasn’t the men I was dating, it was me. That’s right boys and girls. It was me…Shall I explain?

I was a commitment phobe. Much like those housewives on Oprah who think drugs is an inner-city problem and their $100 a day coke habit doesn’t make them an addict because they aren’t doing blow jobs to pay for the high, I thought only men could be commitment phobes (CP). Holy run-on sentence Batman! Oh how wrong I was.

I was that b*tch who would say, behind closed doors, that I was one half of a couple. But never admit it in the streets. Or, I would pick men who I knew didn’t want commitment. To top it all off, I’d complain about it. Not because I really wanted the commitment, but more so because complaining that they weren’t acting right was all the rage. Tres en vogue. But the truth of the matter was that I wanted no parts of this thing they called ‘commitment’.

Commitment, for me, back then, cus this broad right here sure has evolved since then, translated into OBLIGATION. If there’s one thing true about us only children (I am one in the psychological sense), we don’t like obligation. We don’t like to have to do shyt. It’s enough that we maintain jobs and pay bills. So to add to that having to always consider a mate is just too much. Used to make me sick–literally.

The first thing a CP does is choose people who s/he knows won’t ever work out. Then we tell this person that the commitment is exactly what we want. Except, it is only lip service. The truth is that CP’s only want to be bothered when they want to be bothered. On their time. This is their world. Everyone else is just a squirrel…You know the rest.

Once in a while a CP stumbles upon someone who they misjudge. Someone who actually wants the commitment. If the pursuer of commitment is smart enough, s/he will corner the CP. When this happens the CP has a two basic options. Run or buy time. Run! Usually, if the CP realizes the plan of his/her mate early enough, s/he will sabotage the whole thing or just run.

Buying time. I think this is my personal favorite. And no, I won’t list all the techniques. But I will share with you the phrase that is guaranteed to buy you a minimum of two additional months in Dateland Lane, far away from moving on to Relationship Heights. You ready? “I’ve been hurt.” I’d love to take credit for this but it came to me from my boy Bmore K.

If you are dealing with a person who really likes you, they will give you this two months–minimum. Two months (or more) for you to bask in the summer sun. Two months (or more) to not feel the strangling pull of obligation. Two months (or more) of complete selfishness. I’m getting misty just thinking about it. But. If you are dealing with someone who knows this game, you have not a chance. You might as well clear out all the numbers in your cell because you will wind yourself up smack dab in the middle of a freaking relationship before you know it. Sometimes, you might even regretfully find yourself happy, settling in to the idea that you are, in fact, in a relationship. And in the worse cases, you will find yourself locked up tight until death parts you two. Or at least that’s what I heard happens.

Damn! So what’s the point of this post? Women can be CP’s too. Further, we women need to start really looking inward when too many of our relationships go down the same road.

Case for the Twin Beds and Chatting on the Internet

Humh. I am still having training this week. But, I did get a laptop. Not a fancy new one, but one I can use at home and work. That being said, you can thank the new employer for saving you from a Tuesday re-post.

Remember in all the old shows, married couples used to sleep in seperate beds? And I always thought television programmers were trying to keep it clean. But as I’ve gotten older, had the pleasure of sharing a bed with a couple men, I think those broads on TV, or back in the day, had something with the twin beds.

I wonder if things in the bedrooms of yesteryear weren’t as they were shown on TV. Was the Mrs. and the Mr. seperated by a lovely table in real life? And if they were, who decided that sleeping in the same bed was the right change to make?

I’m sure they got it on in one of those twin beds. We all know it’s possible because we all went to college. But the beauty of the married twin bed situation is after it’s done, you get a bed to yourself. Cuddling is good. Snoring is bad. The warmth of another body is good. Sleeping with someone who thrashes about unexpectedly is bad. And I’m telling you, putting a nightstand between you and a snorer is always a good thing.

Ah yes, the days of old. Girls were girls and men were men…Beds were twin. And I’m not saying that bed sharing is bad. I’m just saying that occasionally, a b*tch wants to sleep. Is that so bad??

As an aside, this has nothing to do with beds, but is exchanging e-mails with a person interested in having a relationship (sexual, intimate, non-platonic) cheating?? I’m of the mindset that the person in the relationship must control the interaction. Further, that person would frequently let the other person know the deal.

And at what point, once a new relationship is established, do all old flings, bed-buddies, and the like need to be told the deal?? Is it possible to just not tell them at all? Do the fade? Fade them right out of your life. And if this is the route you take, is it a case where you’re not telling the fling, etc. the truth because you want to put them on ice just in case your main squeeze doesn’t work out?

Can y’all tell I was jonesin’ for blogging yesterday?? We got a lot of breaks and an hour plus for lunch. Where was I?? Trying to catch up on my blog reading. But for real, answer the questions I posed. I’d really like to hear your opinions. Remember: Twin beds, internet chatting, and announcing the relationship.

From the Archives: Sitting, Waiting, Wishing*

Damn that Dr. Strangejazz (and Cee) and his tendency to go off on a tangent in the comments section (see yesterday’s comments)! But it fits because…
Once again I was innocently riding in my car, the other day, on my way home like normal. And like normal, I stumbled upon this one radio show. Why do I do it to myself? Nothing hardens my morning grits like stupidity. Ever other call is some broad over 35 saying something no woman over 25 would even say. I’m thoroughly convinced that they have someone screening the calls for the craziest broads.

So the show’s topic was shacking up. And I will say that for the 35 minutes I was listening, most of the women were anti-shacking up. I have said time and time again, that in my mis-spent youth, I fell prey. But I was corrected. Apparently, the fact that I had my own spot means that technically I have never cohabitated. Whew.

I was sitting, waiting, wishing you believed in superstitions. Then maybe you’d see the signs. Lord knows that this world is cruel. And I ain’t the lord. I’m just a fool. And in love with somebody don’t make them love you.

How do I feel about shacking up? People shack up for various reasons. Some are economic. Sometimes, it just happens. You’re together all the time, someone’s lease is up and next thing you know, mail with their name is in your mail box. You’re shacking up. Finger-wag! Finger-wag! But all too frequently, shacking up is a man’s way of stalling and a woman’s way of settling for less that what she really wants–marriage. Dude will never admit this to the poor unsuspecting broad though. And for the sake of expostulation, I shall focus on that.

Now, people will say they need to know all these things about you before they can commit to marriage. Well I call a hearty, from my guts, just beside my left ovary: BULLSHYT!!! The radio dude made the point that a lot of people use this logic as an excuse to find some reasons why they don’t have to eventually make the real committment–marriage. I think this probably happens. He’s filthy. She snores. He only has nine toes. She doesn’t fold her towels.

But as I said earlier, shacking is often something done to appease a ring happy woman. Or the woman thinks if she lives with him, often having him move up into her spot, she will grow on him so much that he will spring forth to the nearest Tiffany’s and bling her ring finger out. WTF-ever. She’ll be sitting, waiting, wishing!

Fellas, have a freaking backbone. If you have no immediate plans of marrying this women, do not move in with, ask her to move in with you, or suggest you get a new spot together. Don’t use this mid-way point as a test. Cus when she realizes she’s been living with you for a year and a half, no marriage in sight, she will become bitter and evil and angry. It will affect your whole life-style. Who wants to come home to that BS? Not any sensible person.

I sang your songs. I danced your dance. I gave your friends. all a chance. Putting up with them wasn’t worth never having you. Oh, maybe you’ve been through this before. But it’s my first time, so please ignore the next few lines, cause they’re directed at you.

I firmly believe that all major relationship decisions and standards should be made pre-love. Somewhere in early smitten land. This way, you’re thinking somewhat clearly. Because if you wait until you’re in full throttle love or ring-starved to set standards on major things, in this case shacking up, you’re bound to make the wrong decisions. And getting caught out there having over-compromised your standards for the sake of love. And let me tell you, it’s usually not worth it.

Plus, y’all know with all my Episcopalian guilt (Catholic–light), there’s no way I’d be able to do it without getting a cramp in my stomach everytime I have to lie to my nana and grandmother about the situation. I still do have some shame. Not to mention, I expect a man who wants 24 hour access to me to be willing to give me legal rights to his ass. I don’t want to be the broad who gets a phone call in the middle of the night because his ass is in a coma. You know why?? Because legally, I can’t do shyt. I have no say. His parents are his next of kin. I’m just some b*tch he was living with. I pass. And I won’t even get into the whole credit issue. I’m not messing my shyt up with someone who isn’t legally bound to my ass!!! I worked real hard to bring my post-college credit up to the point where I can walk in anywhere and get damn near anything!!

Bridge
I keep playing your part. But it’s not my scene. Want this plot to twist. I’ve had enough mystery. Keep building it up. Then shooting me down. But I’m already down.

Early on in relationships, when things are all new and great, you have certain discussions. Not necessarily planned, but things seem to just come up. If you’re dealing with someone who finds shacking up acceptable, there are so many ways that you can tell him/her you are BETTER than that. Even if the truth is that you aren’t and that you would consider it, if but for no longer than six months! This way, when the time comes, s/he knows better to even step to you with such a sub-par offer.

Well if I was in your position. I’d put down all my ammunition. I’d wonder why it had taken me so long. But Lord knows that I’m not you and if I was I wouldn’t be so cruel cause waitin’ on love ain’t so easy to do.

Have I seen it work? Sure. But in EVERY single case where it worked and they are currently living happily ever after, they were engaged or got engaged within the first year of living together. Further, two of the cats popped the question so soon as the ring ordered was delivered to the jeweler. Why? Because these men knew what was the right thing to do. Yes, I said it. THE RIGHT THING TO DO!!

Further, my positions on this go back to what I’ve witnessed and how I was raised. There’a a certain order to shyt. I mentioned this just yesterday. And when you go messing with order, you’re shyt is bound to be rocky. Have times change? No. We have tried to force the times to change. But the more we force, the more unsuccessful we are.

Disclaimer: IF some man jedi mind tricks me into living with him, please, for the love of all things right and good, take me to the side and remind me of this post. If I am ever that in love or ring hungry, slap me. Cus for real, I don’t want to be the Starr Jones of the blogesphere with everybody talking bad about me but nobody willing to come out and say anything. Cus y’all know her whole wedding party of all 73 people knew her man was/is gay as Paris in July. Anyway. If I’m still hard-headed, give me six months. By that time, we will either be putting down a deposit on a reception spot, or hosting an old fashion moving party–cus my ass will be out.

*Lyrics from Jack Johnson’s Sitting, Waiting Wishing