Onus

There are few things I regret, or rather few things I openly admit I regret, about my life.  One such thing is not taking full advantage of learning, or continuing to learn during my teenage years, another language.  I have fond memories of sitting in class in elementary school and the first two years of high school conjugating verbs in Français…je, tu, il, elle, nous, vous, etc…

…then there are fond memories of me paying extra attention during those French lessons in an attempt to become fluent, as a means to seduce young ladies with my formidable command of the French language, which would extend far beyond, “Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir”.  Undoubtedly (so was my thought at the time), my mastery of another language would reap the reward of a whole lot of coucher-ing…it was a means to an end.  [I keep telling you, “Don’t hate the player, hate the game baby!”] 

After my first and second year of high school French, and my discovering my ‘gift of gab’ was, shall we say, rewarding enough, I didn’t bother enrolling in any additional classes.   

Over the years I’ve beaten myself up over that decision and wonder why in the world my aunt/uncle didn’t strenuously object or push me to continue with the coursework.  But alas, the past is the past.

While this regret has remained in the back of my mind, I’ve developed a certain admiration for those that stayed on course, continued conjugating, and mastered another language.  That’s actually part of the reason I respect many European and African cultures as being bi/tri-lingual is a standard, not an exception, impressing, or surprising.

I made the latter statement to a friend years ago and his response was, “Well that’s because those Europeans/Africans learn English as their second language…who doesn’t want to learn the American language?” o_O

Now…if you’re reading this then you’ve more than likely been privy to my vocalizing my disdain of, and sheer disgust with, ignorance…namely American ignorance or better phrased, American arrogance.

For the record, I don’t take issue with all Americans; heck, I’ve been living amongst them for years and I recognize this truly is a land of opportunity…even more opportunity than Canada, eh!  My issue, however, is that <some> Americans tout themselves as superior in all respects when oft times the individuals making the bold and condescending characterizations of other cultures are clearly cretinous!

I mean how the hell do you speak negatively about a culture where the citizens speak multiple languages fluently and your arrogant a-- can’t even speak one language properly?  Really?!? 

And let’s just put all the cards on the table while we’re chit chatting because ‘English’ is not an American language.  It’s a language spoken by Americans but you Yankees (those reading this) need to stop deluding yourselves by acting as though the U.S. wasn’t colonized by the English/Brits like half of the free friggin’ world was…meaning it’s their (the English…England…the Queen…as in why it’s called the Queen’s English) language you just continued using.  Furthermore, removing the u from a few words does not make English an American language.  Lastly, attempting to “correct” me by telling me colour, favour, or neighbour, aren’t spelled correctly exemplifies how moronic ‘Mericans can be.  So you fought the Brits, gained your independence and the best you could do was take a few u’s out and refuse to use the metric system? #yeahok

Nonetheless…my regret as it relates to not speaking multiple languages fluently inspires me to not only master the English language but to become effortlessly eloquent.   

I in no way think I am at that point, but I have no reservations about saying I recognize my command of the English language is slightly better than the average American…or at least the average American I’ve come across both during my post-secondary education and in the last few years I’ve been in the workforce.

With that said, I got into a spirited debate with a colleague of mine from a former employer because of the following exchange:

JE: “You sound like you’re trying to put the onus on me.”

She: “I have a pretty wide vocabulary; please stop using words that I have to look up.”

JE: “OBVIOUSLY not if you don't know what 'onus' means!”

She: “Somebody at work next to me also did not know what "onus" was. You Canadians using strange words.”

o_O

We went back and forth for a few hours as she vehemently argued I was using “obscure words” (her words, not mine) and I informed her she wasn’t the brightest crayon in the box (nor was the person sitting next to her all that bright either) so her opinion meant nothing.  I tried to end it on a positive note, being the gentleman I am, by thanking her for re-affirming my decision to never send my children to her alma mater – DePaul University – (SHOTS FIRED!!!), but she didn’t take too kindly to that comment.

The lady friend was sitting next to me while I went back and forth with this dense dame so I showed her the GChat history and asked her if I was being outrageous.  She (the lady friend) had a good chuckle over the fact I took a shot at DePaul University but considering she’s dictier than me having attended U of C and previously pointing out other educational institutions weren’t in her “tier” (therein lies the reason why…), I knew she would understand the point I was making. 

Label me unnecessarily verbose or bourgeoisie (colloquially that translates to “boogie” for you clowns that can’t be bothered to learn or use “college words”) all you damn well want, but don’t lash out at me because all you read were Archie comics and your vocabulary results in my asking: ‘Are you smarter than a 5^th grader’?

The spirited debate above is one example, definitely not the only, and likely won’t be the last, as friends and foes alike constantly challenge my word choice in the course of colloquy.  

I’m taken aback by the passion of these persons as they fervently fault me rather than taking a fraction of the time spent arguing to look up the word, make a mental note to add it to their repertoire, and keep it moving. 

Are the standards set by our circle of friends or our families so low, or the lessons taught throughout our educational lives insufficient such that anyone who sounds somewhat more articulate or someone who has a marginally broader vocabulary is frowned upon?

Truth be told, I didn’t attend a premier post-secondary institution nor did I major or minor in English; I’m just thoughtful when it comes to my written and spoken word as I was taught the importance of presenting a polished you, so as to shine through, at a very young age. 

I’ve remembered that lesson my whole life and take every opportunity to expand my vocabulary making additions to my mental lexicon so as to always present the best me…because corny as it may be, no one will do that except me.

The onus is on us (read: on you)!

Cheers.

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Karma did!?!

Karma is one evil…

I mean that chick is no respecter of persons, emotional state, social status, or religious affiliation…NADA!

And women, don’t think because karma, being spoken of in the feminine tense, has your back because giiiiiiiiiirl, that chick isn’t gender specific in her wrath either! 

So you over there… yes you sweetie lurking on this page (mmm hmm, I see you) who left the dude you were in love with for a douche, got married hastily, had children by/with the douche, and then decided years later to leave the douche realizing you still loved the dude, only to find out dude no longer wanted you…

Or you sugar… don’t act like you don’t know I’m talking to or about you… you who allowed yourself to be flown into town for a “great weekend” only to emotionally retreat, pull away for a year or so, pop up, then fly up in hopes of rekindling a flame, only to realize he wasn’t willing to get burned yet again so he, what do you know, emotionally retreated…

And then there’s you honey… yes I’m talking to you child… who was on that “you’re just not my type and I don’t see us being more than friends” tip only to be in tears some time later when he finally walked away because you realized just a little too late what you <could have> had… and not only is he going, going, going… he gone!”

Ahhh damn!  Did I strike a nerve ladies?

You need not get pissed at me any guy; what you need to do is worry about karma because that chick right there…

She’s a woman scorned…

She’s a woman on a mission…

She’s a chick not to be f---ed with…

She’s what came out of Pandora’s box baby…

She’s one baaaaaad mamma *shut yo mouth*!

She, according to lady logic, is the reason why guys get got, lads get left lonely, and why Sistas support cynical (and outright stupid) songs by songstresses preaching that ‘Ladies, if he did you wrong, don’t worry because karma will give him his due so you can sleep easy’ BS!

Most, if not all, Some females are quick to pray/wish for warn of the wrath of karma on men, yet seem to remove themselves from karma’s path.  Let any female who can relate to the scenarios I mentioned above tell the story and the real issue is the guy and not karma.

Girl bye!

Regardless who’s right or wrong, any discussion on the topic of karma is extremely engaging.  Through the various dialogues I’ve participated in, and in these my thoughts I’m sharing with you, I really believe they need to make a movie about karma and cast Lynn Whitfield to star in that motion picture.

Sidebar: Do not act like I’m the only one who thinks ol’ Lynny Lynn would be PERFECT for the role of karma! After seeing ‘A Thin Line Between Love and Hate’, there is NO other woman who can play that hell in a handbag heffa/woman scorned and on a mission role better than Ms. Whitfield!

Now I’m not saying I’m willing to pay to see it in a theater; I would likely cop a bootleg (don’t judge me)!  Actually, you can judge me all you want because I may just use someone else’s Netflix account to watch it just so I don’t support the film financially, BUT... I would still like to see it.

Heck, they made a damned good romantic comedy (or was it a romantic drama?!? I could Google it but don’t really care at this point) based on the whole friends with benefits concept – which by the way is a completely idiotic concept¥ – so I’m sure with as much angst and arguing as there is related to and about karma, a biographical film would be a blockbuster in shanties and suburbs alike.

In all seriousness though, the whole concept of karma creeps me out.  I understand the whole circle of life, ying yang (I can’t stand those twins but I have to admit, although I’m ashamed to do so, I thoroughly enjoy their “Whisper” track)ƚ, what goes around comes around concept, but with karma the overarching theme is if/when you mess up, that chick is going to knock, unlike opportunity, at the most inopportune time and be relentless in her revenge… or should I say in her avenging the dirt you done did to others?

You get my point so let’s move on…

To be quite honest, and as far as relationships are concerned, I think way more about (or maybe it’s just a fear of) the wrath of karma than the wrath of the Almighty and that, most times, sets me back on a straight path. 

For those that read that last sentence and think I’m a heathen or are quick to judge, kick rocks barefoot…THEN go play in traffic pause for a second, be honest with yourself and think about it: in any moment you’ve contemplated making the not so correct choice, was your first thought “WWJD‡” or was it “I don’t want this to come back and bite me in the a--?” 

Indeed that was rhetorical because I already know the answer is likely the latter and not the former which tells me it’s karma that comes to mind more often.

But what is karma?  (This question is not rhetorical)

Is she the good ol’ guilt trip, a spook story, our fear factor, or the copout comeback to the question: Who caused things to go wrong?

…karma did!?!

--

¥ – That NEVER works and anyone who tells you it does or can work is delusional and in need of a lovely white jacket meant to be worn in a very white room!

ƚ – Not to mention the remix with Free made me fall in love with that woman all over again!

‡ – So you’re going to call me a heathen and not know that means ‘What Would Jesus Do’?!? You self-righteous…

The Light

“I never knew a luh, luh-luh, a love like this,

Gotta be something for me to write this,

Queen, I ain’t seen you in a minute…”

…many minutes Mademoiselle, and admittedly, I’ve thought of you, or rather us, excuse me in we, I mean be but, how came the, since see…what it is you do to me?

<<Deep breath J, you can do this>> Let me try this again:

Excuse me Mademoiselle, but admittedly, and in the many minutes since, I’ve thought of you, I mean us, or rather how we came to be.  Do you see what it is me…my…I…am trying to say love?

Let me slow down as my words are coming out jumbled and for the moment, or at least today, let me put away the lyrical wordplay and just say:

Premature as this may be, you’ve touched my heart in a way no one else has over the course of the weeks gone by.  I’ve watched my pessimism round the corner to optimism and I write this hopeful, that whatever or whomever, whether fate or the Father, brought us to be, grew you and I to us organically during this season, saw fit that a lifetime was the reason our paths came to converge. 

I may not always say and/or do the right thing(s), and by no means is this a preemptive ‘pology; what this is, is my attempt to express in the purest form I know how, exactly what it is you mean to me.

“I think you’re dope”.

As you blow out your candle(s) on this your birthday may your wish(es) come true and may you see many, many more…

Joyeux Anniversaire Mademoiselle Desruisseaux! 

--

Insanity

4:30pm – After mixing all necessary ingredients, the cheesecake was finally ready to go into the oven…and in it went.  I then gathered the remaining ingredients for the other dishes.

5:00pm – The onions were sautéing in a pan while I cut the red/yellow/green bell peppers.  Chicken breasts were cleaned and cut in cubes, with a touch of salt sprinkled on them seconds before I added them to the sautéing onions.  Three or so minutes later, a habenero pepper was cut in quarters and thrown in to add a little spice.  A minute later, the soy sauce was added while I did my best hibachi chef impersonation, almost cutting my finger in the process…SMH!  Everything smelled great…well of course it did, I was cooking it…duh?!?  I checked on the cheesecake in the oven and it looked lovely.  Realizing, “crap…I forgot to start the rice”, I lowered the stir fry (that wasn’t quite stirred or fry-ed) to a temperature of 1, quickly washed the rice, added a sprinkle of salt, a tablespoon of ‘I Can’t Believe It’s not Butter’, and placed it on the stove to start cooking. 

5:30pm – As the rice began to boil, I lowered the temperature, covered it, and tended to the stir fry that had been waiting patiently (like it was going anywhere).  I added the bell peppers, some thinly sliced carrot pieces, some bok choy, some bean sprouts, threw a little salt over my left shoulder, a pinch more over my right shoulder, sprinkled a little more in the palm of my right hand and threw that into the stir fry and said “BAM”!  Who ‘you’ think taught Emeril Lagasse that?!? If you don’t know you betta ask somebody!

5:55pm – The food was all done; time to get ready.  But before getting so fresh and so clean-clean, the kitchen needed some clean-cleaning…so Mr. Clean I became…no bald head.  I set the table, candle in the center, and rushed to get in the shower.  It had been a long, busy day trying to get everything just right for the evening and although a few minutes behind schedule, I spent a few extra minutes in the shower as it was so soothing and doing a good job calming my nerves…yes indeed, I was extremely nervous at that point.

6:20pm – I got in my car and made my way to pick up my date, but not before confirming I had my gift, the tulips, and a single white rose…check, check, and check…I was good to go!

6:28pm – I arrived at the lovely lady’s house, rang the doorbell, and was greeted by the young lady’s best friend who smiled, complimented me on my attire, and quickly took the gift I had in hand sneaking off into the house.  The young lady’s mother made it to the door, smiled saying, “Good evening Jeremy.  How are you?”  She paused, slightly surprised, as I handed her a bouquet of tulips (her —the mother’s— favourite flowers).  I wished her a Happy Valentine’s day and thanked her for raising such a beautiful young lady…

6:34pm – She finally walked down the stairs in a beautiful lilac dress and took my breath away.  I regained my composure moments later; we were already four minutes behind schedule so I had no time to waste.  I handed her the single white rose, kissed her gently on the cheek, and whispered “You look stunning”.

6:42pm – Arm in arm, we walked to my car, while best friend and mother looked on from the doorway all smiles.  I opened the passenger side door and allowed my lady to get in, this time I whispered, “You’re sexy as hell”. (What?!? I couldn’t say that in her mother’s house AND while her mother was within earshot.  So what if I was whispering? DON’T JUDGE ME!!!)

6:51pm – We arrived back at my apartment, walked in, and I took her coat.  I hung it behind her chair, in part to indicate which seat she would be taking and in part for another phase of my plan.  I pulled her chair out revealing a bouquet of 6 red roses.  My lady smiled…

6:56pm – Dinner was served.  We dined over candlelight while conversing about the never ending snow and admitting how thrilled we were about the current weather <sarcasm intended>. 

7:25pm – The doorbell rang and outside was a driver, in a black suit and black top hat, who led us to the black Lincoln Town car that awaited us.  At that point, my lady was beaming unaware of what was happening but obviously curious.

7:57pm – We arrived at our destination after a car ride of the same question every four minutes: “Where are we going?” to which I would respond, “You’ll soon see.”  The destination?  The theatrical performance of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat; the one play my lady wanted to see and spoke about for weeks.  Yessir, I got tickets and we were there in living colour…or rather technicolor.

10:45pm – The limousine headed back to my apartment.  Dessert was on deck after a wonderful evening. [Dessert…as in the cheesecake people…the cheesecake…let’s keep it kosher!]

11:17pm – We arrived at my apartment and I again asked my lady for her coat.  This time, I slipped something into her left pocket, her unaware of what was going on as she was still surprised at the events of the evening.   I presented her a slice of my culinary creation, and her favourite dessert, strawberry cheesecake.  We enjoyed the cheesecake while discussing our favourite, and not so favourite, parts of the musical.

11:40pm – Being a man of my word, and not wanting to upset her mother, I let my lady know I was taking her home.  Indeed, Cinderella needed to be home before midnight.

11:51pm – We pulled into her driveway exchanging a kiss I wished lingered a little longer.  I walked her to the door, expressed how lovely an evening it was and said my goodnight’s (of course her best friend and mother were up waiting to get details…women I tell you).

12:04am – I arrived back at my apartment, yet again four minutes behind schedule, and placed a call to my lady to wish her a good night.  It took two calls for her to pick up in part because she was surprised at the teddy bear and card left in the center of her bed (placed there by her best friend – the gift I gave the best friend when I first went to pick her up – as planned) and in part because the ringing phone was one she didn’t recognize; it was the new, and her first, cell phone I purchased for her (what I slipped in her jacket pocket prior to us enjoying the cheesecake).  On the phone screen, my name showed up as, “Happy Valentine’s Day Sweetie”

That was the culmination of my perfectly planned February 14^th…a plan that 14 weeks earlier was not even on my mind as 14 weeks earlier, I had yet to meet my fair lady. 

WHAT?!? You read that correctly…14 weeks earlier, I had no clue who this young lady was as I met her three weeks later.  Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I met the young lady roughly 11 weeks prior to our evening out.

Who the hell orchestrates a Valentine’s Day of that caliber for a young lady he has only known for 11 weeks?  Only yours truly!

I was called everything from naïve to an idiot, from crazy to insane, and my response:

“Insanity: Doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results” –Albert Einstein

Say what?!?

Contrary to popular belief at the time, my response to my new lady love had little to do with my feelings for her but everything to do with my goal to never enter a relationship not expressing how I felt or not going out of my way to do any and everything to put a smile on the young lady’s face as had been my practice in relationships prior. 

That was my semblance of sanity.

In every relationship preceding that one, I wasn’t attentive, I paid very few compliments, and paid for even less afternoons and/or evenings out.  I don’t recall ever taking a young lady to dinner prior to that Valentine’s vixen. 

Don’t get me wrong, I may have invited a young lady over for dinner but even then I followed the PLAYA code and ordered some Chinese, put the contents in pots/pans, threw away all evidence of the meal being ordered, sprinkled a little flower and salt in the kitchen (and on my clothing), and made it look like a slaved over a hot stove…worked every time and worked like a charm!

Don’t hate the playa baby; hate the game! 

It wasn’t that I wasn’t chivalrous, or that chivalry was dead; it just hadn’t been born yet!  And born it was that Valentine’s long ago.

Yet at some point along the way, years down the line, Button became my name…Benjamin Button that is…and “I was…under unusual circumstances…while everyone else was aging, I was getting younger…”¹

…in maturity that is.  While some grew and learned the ways of maintaining a relationship, I seemed to revert to my old ways, the ways of days I was an immature lad, when I had a natural knack for nincompooping my relationships.

By no means is this meant to be self deprecating; on the contrary, the introspection proved to be quite enlightening and confirmed history does repeat itself.

In going through another period of self reflection after a companionship gone awry, a pseudo-relationship going nowhere, and the prospect of a new romance, it dawned on me, delayed a decade, “You can change or stay the same, there are no rules to this thing. We can make the best or the worst of it…”¹ 

However, staying (or rather doing) the same yields the same result: an abrupt halting of the honeymoon phase of a hook-up or circular conversations confirming the pseudo-coupling could (or rather should) conclude.  Therefore, unless I counted myself insane, a change was what was needed. 

It’s been a long, long time coming, but I know a change is gonna has come...and that change is in hopes of yielding a better the best result.

“…I hope <I> make the best of it” ¹…for my own sanity.

Cheers!

--

¹ Quotations from the ‘The Curious Case of Benjamin Button’ (2008)

Selfish

Like clockwork every 3-6 months, Shaniquashay¹ would call and we’d spend 30-60 minutes over the course of 3-6 days catching up, which usually meant Shaniquashay spending 26-58 of those minutes catching me up on the tales of her most recent internet beau.  I would listen to her situation, interject to offer my wise counsel, she would vehemently disagree with my assessment of what her particular flavour of the month/quarter meant by his actions and/or his words (although by the next conversation she would confirm I was right…SMH), and proceed to detail exactly why men were fools for acting they way they did with her. 

This continued for about two and a half years and initially the conversations were entertaining (as I enjoyed getting my Dr. Phil on and psychoanalyzing the situation) but eventually became emotionally draining.  This is someone who trusted me with her inner most thoughts and feelings, confided in me when something went wrong, was comfortable being completely vulnerable around me and shed her hard exterior to express how fragile she was, and on the rare occasion, she cried.  Not only did I sympathize but I empathized with her situation.  She wasn’t going through something, we were going through something and until she was able to smile or laugh over the phone, I didn’t allow the conversation to end. 

When the conversation did reach a conclusion, I made it a point to follow up the next couple of days just to check in to make sure Shaniquashay was still in good spirits.  She would then disappear for a few months and resurface with a new story for the cycle to start again.

Towards the tail end of the two and half years, there was a particular instance where I noticed she was calling and didn’t bother picking up the phone.  Shaniquashay left a voicemail first on my cell phone and then my home phone.  Two or three days had passed and I received another call, looked at the caller ID, realized I neglected to return Shaniquashay’s call (in part because I really wasn’t in an emotional space to deal with her romantic refuse — as in rubbish — and in part because it actually slipped my mind), and started thinking of an appropriate excuse.

And then I listened to the voicemail she left…

“I KNOW you saw that I called you a few days ago and don’t even tell me that sh*t that you didn’t see my call because I called you on both your home phone AND your cell phone AND I left you a message on each! It’s good to know that when I’m going through something I can depend on you.  Some ‘friend’ you are!”

In most circumstances where I realize I missed a call a few seconds prior, I typically call the person right back without bothering to listen to the message because if I get them…

<<push pause>> Have you ever missed someone’s call, called them right back and they don’t pick up the phone? I never understood that crap! I’m tempted to ask the person if after they called and didn’t get me, they threw the phone across their apartment/house in frustration which would be a viable explanation for why when I call seconds later they don’t pick up the phone…but I digress…<<push play>>

…then we can just have the conversation that was supposed to take place.  Once that conversation is over, I’ll access my voicemail and just delete the message without bothering to listen to it at all. What’s the point right?  Glad we’re on the same page.

Had I done that in Shaniquashay’s situation, things may not have escalated the way they did because after hearing her message, I did 35 push-ups, 17 jumping jacks, and shadow boxed for 8 seconds²; we were about to go to ‘blows’!

No this chick did not have the audacity and the testicular fortitude to suggest I wasn’t a dependable friend because I didn’t pick up the phone nor return her call right away.  Not to mention this Salem witch didn’t even give me the benefit of doubt and at least preface her disappointment with a statement asking if everything was okay, if I was okay, or something to remotely show some level of concern…nothing!  She shot first, asked questions later.

I started dialing her number HEATED but ready…IT. WAS. ABOUT. TO. GOOO. DOOOOWN!!!

But I stopped as a quotation I read earlier ran through my mind: “Never argue with a fool, they will lower you to their level and beat you with experience.”

This was the same Shaniquashay that had a new boo thang every few months, argued and nagged them to death because of her hot-headedness, and refused to listen to any advice I provided although time and time again, with that wonderful thing called hindsight, I proved I was right.  Arguing with her would amount to nothing so I had to employ a craftier means of getting my point across.

I calmed down and put my plan in motion calling her a day later and it went a little something like this:

Jeremy (J) – Hey, sorry I missed your call. I was in the hospital and was just released today.

Shaniquashay (S) – OH MY GOD Jeremy, are you okay?!? I’m so sorry to hear that. What happened?

J – Nothing…I just wanted you to feel like an a-- for the messages you left.

S – Jeremy don’t do that sh*t man…I was seriously worried for a second.

J – As you should have been before you left those stupid messages.

S – Whatever!!! Why didn’t you call me back man? You saw that I called!

J – I was preoccupied and wasn’t really in the mood to talk.

S – That’s some selfish sh*t man…I was going through something and needed you and you weren’t there, all because you didn’t feel like talking? So what you’re telling me is I can’t depend on you as a friend whenever you’re in a ‘mood’?

J – Shaniquashay, what’s my favourite meat or dessert? Where was I born? Who was I raised by? What’s my major in school? What’s the name of the girl I’m dating right now?

S – Huh?!? What the hell does that have to do with anything? Ummm…I don’t know.

J – Exactly my f---ing point! You don’t even know some basic fundamental sh*t about me and you want to cuss me out and suggest I’m not being a dependable friend or call me selfish?!?

**crickets**

Poor girl was blindsided and had no chance! We argued for a few minutes, exchanged a couple of heated emails back and forth, and didn’t speak for almost 2 years after that conversation.

I had gone above and beyond for her and she wasn’t even my girlfriend or close companion.  It was clear she viewed me a close friend, but the friendship was very one-sided.  I noticed long before that conversation took place and ventured to balance it out by calling to engage about things going on in my life but to no avail.  But when Shaniquashay needed an empathetic ear, I dropped everything to be there for her and yet she had the audacity to suggest I was selfish?!?  This chick didn’t even know I loved lamb or enjoyed carrot cake (those were freebies for you so called ‘friends’…SMH), but I’m the selfish one?  She was too busy monopolizing our time on the phone with her issues to consider asking me something, anything, about the happenings in my life and the moment I take a breather she has the nerve to go off?!?

Fast forward to yesterday when I decided to let a particular frugal and fastidious filly know I wasn’t interested in attending her birthday festivities or maintaining any sort of interaction with her going forward out of a growing frustration that our interaction only ranked second to the most lopsided and one-sided friendship I’ve had with a female in years.  Do you know what this Salemite decided to say?  “Timing is f’ed up. Take care”

Yes, you read that right.  The Salemite sista has no qualms with us parting ways but takes issue with the fact I decided to ‘surprise’ (was she not so self absorbed, she would have realized I fell back weeks prior) her with this revelation the day before her birthday thereby disrupting her celebratory plans.  I almost got real Tyrone on her a-- and went off but stopped short asking two seemlingly irrelevant and unrelated questions. 

Similar to Shaniquashay (let’s call her Lakeshakay¹), Lakeshakay likely has no clue where the questions came from, how they’re related, and hasn’t responded.

In her defense, although I shouldn’t feel compelled to make this statement as an obvious benefit of a blog is to talk about trifling folks without them having the opportunity to defend themselves chronicle your emotions related to a situation from your vantage point (right or wrong it’s your personal perspective), a contributing factor to the demise of the interaction was she was a conquest unconquered.  Call me coo-coo for cocoa puffs for considering a non-coital companionship kosher, but I’d become cool with that given I slowly realized she was failing miserably as a friend so would more than likely fail in any future capactiy as a committed companion.

Low blow? I would say no.  Is that so? Indeed it is because there’s validity in that logic bro! Whoa…see what just happened there?

Wait for it…wait for it…

Bingo!

I’ve had the week off work and wasted most of it being unproductive (which I guess is fine since it was a vacation or at least that’s what I’m telling myself to feel better), but it got me to thinking of other areas of my life I needed to address, and refrain from, wasting my energy/efforts.  First thought?  Friends with no benefits.  No, not the four hundred or so Facebook friends of whom I rarely speak to, but those I spend time with who add no real value to my life.

I found myself feeling a friendship was fundamentally flawed; my solution?  C’est la vie!

Riddle me ridiculous Robin…but maybe it’s my turn to be selfish.

Cheers!

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¹ In order to both preserve the privacy of the individual and to demonstrate (through use of a ridiculous name) how ‘ignant’ I find this person, this is how I will refer to said lady.

² Okay maybe I didn’t do all that but you get the point.

Achilles

“Food and females, females and food.  Put the two together, and I’m in a good mood!”

Ha ha…I got skills…I’m a poet, and you doggone right I know it.  Actually I just enjoy the witty wordplay; consider it my cognitive challenge to intellectually stimulate my mind.  Why?  If you have to ask, that’s the first problem! What problem you say?  Not realizing intellect and intelligence require honing. 

All in all, my writing assists in maintaining my brilliance!

“No self-esteem issues here…”  That’s what she said…Ooooooh!  I slay me!

I kid you not, she really did say that.  My response: “No ma’am, not at all; it’s wasted energy.”  I mean what’s the use in doubting my attractiveness, charm, or intelligence?  That’s a pointless exercise as I’m clearly the sh*t in all three.  You don’t agree?  Then why are you thinking about me thinking I’m the sh*t right now?  That’s my telepath skill…X-Men: First Class baby!  Call me X, not Malcolm, Professor X!  So let me learn you right quick…

Dagnabit G, let me give your lethargy a moment to catch up with me…

.

.

.

Time’s up!  Got it? Good!

In all seriousness, I consider myself a genius, in certain respects, except when it comes to food and females, females and food. 

Achilles had a heel and considering I have two left feet on the dance floor, I have at least two heels which means I’m twice the man he was.  Take THAT Achilles…Greek mythology? Ha!  He’s just a myth; I’m the man! 

Do you doubt me?  Fine…I concede so as to not impede…my point, take a deep breath and continue to read, I’m about to get to indeed, or should I say in depth?

Allons-y…

I have two heels, or rather weaknesses; females and food (yes, I already said that but repetition is good); my characteristic calamities…yes grevious indeed!

Let me focus for a moment on the former; females.  As “true focus lies somewhere between rage and serenity”^‡ (Didn’t I tell you Professor X was going to learn you right quick?!?), my discussion about damsels will be about both:

1.       Closure (rage)

2.       Conquest (serenity)

In both situations, I fail to exercise the best judgment, become an idiotic and ‘ignant’ individual, ack-a-damn-donkey, and turn into a plum fool!  I become less than the man I’m meant to be but can’t seem to help it; weak-spirited and weak-minded is what I is.  You feel me kid?

Closure

As inherent or inevitable as this is, if someone else was in a similar situation and asked my opinion, my advice as compared to my actions, are inconsistent.  Here’s the story:

I dated a young lady for approximately eight months until things ended nine months ago.  Since then, she has been on my mind affecting any attempted association with other females.  I swear she’ll be the death of me and has already been the death of a potential relationship or two because I’ll look into another female’s eyes, thinking about (let’s call her Kim) and say to myself (but really to the Kim in my mind), “She Ain’t You”. 

It lasted only eight months ending nine months ago so I should man the f--- up and keep it moving right?!?  Man, who are you telling?   

I didn’t realize exactly how involved we were; we did everything together:  We tried new restaurants, went and/or watched countless movies (‘Vicky, Christina, Barcelona’ was my favourite with her…yeah, yeah, yeah…judge away!), I introduced her to one of my closest friend’s (albeit he didn’t realize what I was doing), we talked about everything and nothing, laughed, joked around, “played” around, and I can type for hours but you still wouldn’t understand. 

Then we had our first major argument over something extremely insignificant, my anger got the best of me, and the same tongue that flattered her flattened her; I blazed babygirl! Things went downhill from there fairly fast.  Although I attempted to salvage the relationship (flowers, cards, calls, etc.), it was to no avail; no bueno! 

Everyone I’ve told the story speculated on there being another side to the story, her potential involvement with someone else, my words being so harsh it cut too deep, her finding out at some point I dated someone else simultaneously and it simmering until it finally boiled over…I have no idea.  All I got from Kim was “I don’t feel the same…I need space…you’re pressuring me when I told you I don’t feel the same…” and I was purged from her life. 

I’m confused because something just doesn’t make sense in my logical, or maybe merely emotional, mind.  The speculations churn and churn, the memories come back when I see a picture, see a movie, go out to eat, hear a song, watch a show, or hear a joke.  Just when I think they’ve subsided, something brings them full circle.

Kim has closed our chapter, and yet I don’t feel as though I’ve gotten closure.  I meet other females, enjoy their company, but am interrupted by my mental compare/contrast exercise; Kim v. ‘Another’.  Their attractive attributes are listed side-by-side; similar, yet emotionally Kim remains on that pedestal.

To further demonstrate how ridiculous this weakness is, I dated a young lady for two years 12 years ago with us losing touch for a decade after the break-up.  It was only after speaking to and seeing her last year I was able to finally walk emotionally away; closure acquired, chapter closed.

“Damn dude!”  I know, I know…dumb and deranged!  I’m emotionally enraged at how stupid that sounds but it’s obvious, even for me, emotion defies logic.

Moving on…

Conquest

My personal belief is a female should never throw herself at a male she’s interested in because every male enjoys the chase (women, I said a chase, NOT a marathon!)  I mean, who doesn’t enjoy a good challenge?  He’ll value the young lady that much more if he has to work to attain her attention and affection.  Once this is accomplished, he dreams of days in paradise with his pookie. 

Without the temerity or confidence in ability, he relinquishes his masculinity, and hasn’t truly earned the serenity.

That being said, regard every man a common day ‘Conan the Conqueror’; it’s all about the conquest!  Considering we’ve already established I’m twice the man Achilles was, understand that I take the conquest twice as serious. 

Two^¥ years ago I met a young lady at a professional event wearing a two-piece Hillary Clinton-esque business suit (let’s call her Nina).

** Sidebar: There are two types of women’s attire I think make a female look sexier than when she’s ‘au naturale’: 1) lingerie (obviously) and, 2) a business suit.  The former allows you to visually take in certain delicate features; the latter covers up those features, wraps them in a professional bow, and causes your imagination to run wild. **

Nina was an apparition I tell you; she looked angelic, as in perfect!  There was a ‘je ne sais quoi’ about her that was magnetic. I vowed she would be mine and put the wheels in motion in minutes.  It was about to be ON like Donkey Kong!  Then Nina stopped me dead in my tracks two days later when she revealed she was in a relationship. FML!  I hate beautiful women with that affliction! 

But like any hunter, we wait for our prey…or wait for and pray…for an opening.   Within two months that opening came.  My God is a GOOD God…yes He is! 

I started to step in, feel her out, get to ‘know’ her and the more I learned the more I realized Nina was dealing with closure issues and therefore pursuing something serious right away wasn’t necessarily the best idea.  So I made the disastrous decision men seeking to date women not immediately interested have done for eons; I allowed myself to become a “friend”.  SMH! 

We continued down this dysfunctional (and detrimental to coitus companionship) friendship and it reached a climactic point last year when we went out, laid all the cards on the table and put our feelings, or lack thereof, out there.  Nina did what all evil spawn of Satan Sistas do in that situation and said, “I briefly thought about us in a relationship but seeing as we’ve become good friends…”  FML!  I started tuning her out at that point because all I heard was, “You can’t have me…na na na na boo boo!” 

I thought: “I’m JE; I always get what I want…eventually!   I can’t have you?  Girl please!  Mama told me I couldn’t have a cookie and you know what I did?  Dipped my hand in the cookie jar, took the cookie, and left a trail of crumbs.   Why? Because I’m a G!  So babygirl, not only am I gonna get you, you’re gonna give up the cookie, Cookie…no Magic…just game!” 

Two years after meeting, I still ain’t got that cookie but she steadily calls to go see a movie!  And I go as her little groupie.  I tell you that fine and non-fornicating floozie has a spell on me…

She sends an IM one Friday asking what I’m doing later that night.  The bold and brash Brutha in me responds, “Hopefully sweating out your perm”.  She proceeds to disregard the advance and suggests sushi.  And what does my dumb a—do?  Go to dinner and order a maki! FML!

So we’re chit chatting at dinner about this and that and she tells a story about some guy trying to befriend her.  Because she’s not interested, she thinks (out loud with me), “Dude, I have friends I barely keep in touch with; I don’t need any new friends to not keep in touch with too…” 

Now that ladies and gentlemen is a gangsta; a true G!  I’m about to include that phrase in my arsenal and Nina’s threat level is now on some Osama Bin Laden; public enemy numero uno!  I need to stop f—ing with her terrorist behind and focus on some temptresses.  Nina ain’t talking ‘bout nuffin’!

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Women I tell you…they can lift you up, but wear you out.  I love them and yet I loathe them; a gift and a curse…and ultimately, my achilles heel, twice over. 

Damn! 

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‡ Charles Xavier (aka Professor X) in X-Men: First Class (Great movie by the way!)

¥ nine months + eight months = 17 months / two years × 12 months in a year = 24 months / 17 months < 24 months…yes folks, Kim came after, and was around during attempts to woo, Nina.  In actuality, I hesitated to talk to Kim because of Nina but since I wasn’t technically involved with Nina, I entertained Kim and now I neither have closure nor have I conquered. FML!

She Ain't You

“Back in my day, we used to walk to school six miles uphill both ways, rain, shine or even in snow…as a matter of fact even in blizzards because we didn’t have snow days… You kids these days have it so easy…”

Everyone reading this I’m certain can recall a time when their parent(s) made an equally ridiculous statement to emphasize how easy the younger generation currently has it.  As there’s usually no choice but to listen, you stand there, nod your head and think at least one, if not all, of the following:

1.       That made no sense whatsoever (i.e. how the hell can you walk uphill both ways?!?);

2.       Life really did suck back in the day;

3.       I refuse to make statements like these to my children when I get older.

I thought the latter countless times as I sat through endless speeches about not having computers back in the day, typing on typewriters that didn’t have spell check, and so on and so forth, and promised myself when I got older, I wouldn’t be so miserable and jealous of the advances the younger generation enjoys to the point I berate them with similar sentiments.

Yet as I embrace my age and reflect on days gone by, I can’t help but contrast what is seen/heard/done nowadays against my 'ideal' or historic experience as it's all I know and just the way things are supposed to be <done>.

I found myself, earlier today, repeating word for word an exact statement I heard in my youth: “They don’t make music like they used to…this foolishness on the radio nowadays…”

Well ain’t this about a June jocular?!?

I vowed I wouldn’t make any of these absurd and asinine assessments and yet as I sat in my car listening to the radio, I had the same response while the following song played:

Now don’t get me wrong, I think young breezy is artistically gifted and one of few younger artists that has actual raw talent (meaning he’s not a product of marketing a gimmick) but I couldn’t help but shake my head at this song.  Although the song clearly has the MJ ‘Human Nature’ groove (a CLASSIC!), the words have no real weight and I swear the chorus sounds like an old Sisters With Voices track and makes me want to say, “S double U V…S S double double U V…”

There’s just something missing in the music. 

The underlying theme is one that I can relate to and will be the first to admit is inherent or inevitable after any break-up; the comparing of the next to the ex.  Heck, I’ve sat in front of my computer masquerading some of these very blog entries as positive uplifting messages when they’ve actually started out as love letters never to be delivered (and likely never read) by a particular person from my very recent past, I now compare every female I date to, because as Chris Brown sings, “She ain’t you”…or better said to her (if she were listening), “you have my heart and no one else compares.”

**Sucks that “Sorry” sometimes doesn’t solve the stupid things said in a spat and you and that special someone still separate…**

As emotionally engaged as I should be with the song, there’s a disconnect as I’m unmoved by the words CB sings.  And it’s for this reason I, in my old(er) age argue “They don’t make music like they used to…”

What happened to the days when music wasn’t about sampling an ol’ school hit or the appeal of a song wasn’t its production but just the raw emotional outpouring of a singer you swore stole pages out of your life’s diary…when the rhythm and blues recorded represented your relationship with your baby or boo?

Then I find myself relistening to a song with a lovely lady which gives me hope that although of this generation, “cat daddy has an ol’ soul and is saaanging…”

They don’t <always> make music like they used to, but, it can still be music to my/your ears.

Merci!

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