Today’s Word is… DEXIFY

Dexify (v.) – To defend, explain, justify. 

Used in a sentence: Technically, dexify is not a word, but I’m using it anyway and I’m not about to dexify it. 

It really ought to be a word; it’s as prevalent to today’s culture as much as fucking “selfie”.  Social media hasn’t just made us more narcissistic, it’s made us far more defensive than ever. Facebook has become our public relations department. (Quick aside:  the other day my cousin’s girl gave a full statement about his break baby.  His statement: “I’m a dad, again”. #Inwards, man. ) In that regard, I did have some questions and appreciated the answers; but in most cases people are answering questions no one asked.   If you didn’t care what people think and you were”just saying” then why get so defensive after the fact? Notice the loudest people on social media are always the ones claiming they don’t care. The funny part is, no one is even tripping off of them…if a black person votes for Trump and no one is around to argue, does it make a sound?  It doesn’t. So they got to make as many as they can because they need you to know their position while not caring what you think about their position.  So they dexify, unsolicited, to people who aren’t attacking them.  They will not be oppressed or silenced by you, internet. 

             Dexify Power Rankings*

  1. Black men who don’t date black women
  2. All Lives Matter
  3. Minority Trump supporters
  4. Atheists
  5. Shaun King
  6. Hoteps
  7. Millenials
  8. Street harassers
  9. “Single by choice” 
  10. Poor white people who take umbrage with “privilege”
  11. “Celebs” who search their name on twitter
  12. Career woman with broke boyfriend
  13. Blerds
  14. Female sports fans
  15. Black people with family in law enforcement
  16. 30 year olds who still talk about their college
  17. “I don’t get attached to sex” girl
  18. Black women who don’t like Beyoncé 
  19. Lightskinned men
  20. “Down” white guy
  21. 35+ year old twitter users
  22. Adults who still wear “petty” as a badge of honor
  23. Libertarians 
  24. People who saw Birth of a Nation anyway
  25. Vegans
  26. People who eat candy corn
  27. Employed childless black men who still can’t get chose
  28. HBCU grads 
  29. Hypermasculine middle aged black dude
  30. Introverts
  31. People who hate Jordans and iPhones 
  32. Christian homophobes 
  33. #PickMe Twitter
  34. Warrior fans who swear they was down before 2014
  35. Naturalistas from “big chop” to Level 3
  36. Previously problematic male feminists 
  37. Bill Cosby supporters
  38. The ex who still wants to be seen as a nice guy 
  39. “I don’t wear makeup” girl
  40. J. Cole fans

*ranked in order of most likely to defend their existence on social media even though most people aren’t actually attacking them

Honorable Mention: Kanye West, men under 6′, “real hip hop” fans, people waaay too into astrology, all 7 people who learned Luke Cage marries the white woman in the comic

    So why do we feel so compelled to explain and rationalize everything we do now?  It used to be taboo to discuss politics and religion, now it’s fair game.  I long for the days when I would go on Facebook and just see “fuck I’m sooo late for class” now there’s some unsourced meme about how Trump basically said what Beyoncé did, some girl talking about how the world hating on her relationship and a dude with no kids complaining about child support.  Maybe it’s rooted in some insecurity, maybe it’s delusion and people actually feel like it’s their job to change minds and hearts.  Or maybe they just seek attention because that’s what everyone seeks in the age of social media.   Most “slander” is just jokes…you’re not being oppressed, you need to cut it.  



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    Filed under Oh, Internet, Randomness

    Today’s Word is… CASUAL

    So let’s talk about sex (barely.)  I’m not necessarily a big fan of casual hookups; an arrangement that is intended for convenience is actually full of rules and regulations because lord forbid someone catches feelings.  Everyone has their own method to keep them feels away, no kissing, don’t call before a certain time, no spending the night, no cuddling, no eye contact…for all this effort to feel detached why not just leave money on the nightstand. (Oh yeah, laws and shit). I’m the worst kinda casual hookup, I like affection, going out, and what’s otherwise deemed “relationship shit” while also maintaining the consistency that is not wanting your ass. Essentially,  I’m a Gemini. I recently learned that people have clear distinctions between a jump off, fuckbuddy, and friends with benefits while I never really saw the point in creating an upper single class.  To me it’s still rejection; “I only like you enough to sleep with”.  It’s the inconvenient truth behind casual hookups. *whispers*  You are either sleeping with someone who isn’t what you want or you aren’t what they want. 

    *Funk Flex bombs*

    For whatever reason or several, it just ain’t on that relationship trajectory and so you’re just enjoying the Netflix and chill. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with that, just call it what it is.  Some people can keep that arrangement happily for years, most can’t. (Debate your cat). Way back when, my coping mechanism was denial.  I reveled in it for a while, psssh unattached sex? Bet.  Like that time I met this girl at this frat party…

    …and it turned out they were a couple. Anyway, even the come thru dude is eventually going to wonder why y’all can’t at least grab dinner sometime, or feel a type of way about the way you said you could NEVER date someone like them.  Its not necessarily “catching feelings” as much as it’s just “damn, that’s how you see me?”

    It’s common practice for the less invested party to deflect, like in that TheNeighborsSoiree and Drake Come and See Me song; the girl is like, can you not just call me drunk late at night to come thru, act like you have some couth. They proceeded to make her valid concern into a catchy hook like yo she tripping. It was a truth I had to face with someone, that it wasn’t poor timing or the past…it was just never going to be her.  She didn’t “catch feelings” for me, she recognized her place in my life and dipped out.  I wish her well.  I would’ve done the same roles reversed (or at least waited until I met someone cuz who really tryna be quitting jobs without another lined up…but God is still working on me).  

    So what did we learn here?  Casual sex is great!!! (Provided don’t catch feelings, manage expectations, and have little to no desire to pursue an exclusive relationship) …or at the very least just lie to yourself.  It’s human nature to get attached to people you’re smashing as well as the resentment that comes when you are attachment to someone who isn’t yours.  Yet it’s hipper to pretend we don’t care about these things.  (Yes, millenial girl with the septum piercing I know YOU’RE the exception you love to hook up with guys and you never feel a thing, you’re awesome).  It could be so much simpler if we would all just stay single, stick to our standards, and not entertain or smash anyone we aren’t serious about….

    I hate it here.  


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    Filed under Dating, Randomness

    Today’s Word is… COMFORT

    Studies show the actual feeling of “love” lasts about a year. Levels of a protein called nerve growth factors which causes sweaty palms and the feeling of butterflies, were significantly higher for those who just entered a relationship compared to those who have been in longer term ones.  After about a year, whIle you may feel like it’s the first time according to that sappy Facebook birthday post that people roll their eyes at and “like”, your brain has since adjusted, and is like….nigga, I guess.  It makes sense ideally, that rush you got when you lean in for the first kiss isn’t quite the same as when you just Netflix and Chilling and trying to get it cracking.   You don’t necessarily need to study chemistry to know that firsts are always lit.  (Except sex because whIle your brain is going crazy for that first time, it might take a few more times until y’all are more in tune with the others bodies and likes…but maybe that’s just me and shit..more on this later*) 

    That first year love, that passionate, this person was a stranger and they’re my everything love, burns fast, hot, and intense and extinguishes just as swiftly (My specialty, as of late).  It’s something out of the movies, commonly what we associate with romance and passion.   Then on the other end of it there’s heartbreak, despair, building yourself up again.  We associate love with passion and heartache with not much in between.  An observation I could even make in my own writing, largely grand openings and grand closings.  It’s the Mary J Blige theory: no one really tryna hear happy Mary, only lovuh and secrehtare Mary.  (Recently divorced Mary probably in the booth right now…it’s finna be lit)

    What isn’t shown as much, is what happens when you aren’t high off love, or going through it; the happy medium….the comfort.   That isnt to say, romance and passion is dead, but real relationships arent always dates, gifts and spontaneous sex.   You don’t have to plan a date to see them, they just swing by after work.  Texts aren’t a bunch of sweet nothings, yall are just dragging a mutual friend who seems to be in the same outfit in every Instagram pic.   It’s a natural progression unlike passion which is premeditated.  You go into dates hoping maybe y’all will hook up down the line, maybe you can delete that Okcupid account…you never enter a relationship expecting a level of comfort.  There’s no 90 day rule for seeing her with a bonnet, nor for you snatching it off during sex because you’re petty.  You don’t have a conversation about leaving toiletries at the crib or her wearing one of your hoodies home (there’s NEVER a conversation….damn I miss my dawgs).   Maybe you do remember the first time you said I love you, but you don’t remember saving Coupled on your DVR.  Comfort is my sister texts you and your coworkers recognize me. Comfort is “lol i was going to send you that”.  

    Sometimes comfort can mean complacency;  you not unhappy, but you aren’t swooning daily either.  Just like a relationship that’s all passion will burn out, one of all comfort may not…mainly because you’re too lazy to date again.  It could all be so simple; marry someone stable and have your whirlwind romances on the side…but most of us don’t make enough to really pull that off.  Kidding…mostly.  Passion and comfort is a juggling act most fail at (see 50% divorce rate) but I’m a hopeful romantic.   I’m might be a bit more chill than passionate (like most men), my love language is quality time (because thats the type of shit you do when you’re comfortable…maybe theres a passion/comfort quiz…I’ll check buzzfeed later).  Too much passion is like cooking with the flame too high, hotter doesn’t mean faster. (shoutout all the chicken, rice and cookware lost in this struggle…I’m a better cook now tho).   

    As we get more comfortable, oxytocin and vasopressin intensifies in the brain and makes us want to belong and protect. Its a bond not much unlike parent to child.  So lust for a year, then bond for a lifetime.  It could all be so simple.  Until, someone throws their marriage away over a fling….Brad Pitt. 


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    Today’s Word is… HEARTLESS


    Double standards are prevalent in our society.  Black people can say nigga, oppressors can’t.  Broke people can mock the rich but if the rich claps back it’s not a good look.  Big girls can post real men love curves memes all the skinny girl mocks the big girl it’s body shaming.  I don’t make the rules.  Write your congressman.  A double standard that isn’t as talked about is the post breakup double standard; the woman is allowed to throw on some Beyoncé, grind on some guy at the club, take a trip and live her best life.  Yasssssss bitch, fuck him…or something. 

    I mean technicely speaking,  it’s counterintuitive that a woman’s best revenge is to go out and club like she and him both know it’s highly unlikely a rebound of note is going to be at Thirsty Thursday.  “I’m going out to flirt with a bunch of guys who aren’t looking for anything serious, that’ll show YOU.” I’m sure he’s hurting while he remembers you abhor heels, your friend’s messy cousin and half the songs on the radio.  Yet and still, she is having a good time without you, how could you not be offended? Did she ever mean anything?!?!?

    Men on the other hand, have to show they care by…Misery? Alcoholism?  Begging?  I’m not quite sure.  We refocus our energy into our work, fitness, fantasy sports and it’s not enough because you were expected to shatter. Have you no heart? If a man were to be in the club turning up to that Bryson Tiller song with the Street Fighter sample and dancing with somebody cousin on snapchat….he is now a fuckboy who never loved her; that girl from the snap is probably his new girl, he works quickly. How can he just enjoy life like this? Did she ever mean anything?!?!?

    The problem with that is that, you then appear heartless.  Men are routinely labeled as detached, emotionless even though studies have shown that men take much longer to heal from breakups.   It can be devastating; you met, courted and loved the wrong one.  It’s failure,  and while the typical response is to try again and erase the previous fail, it doesn’t actually work like that.   It might take a few more misses before you realize it’s your shooting form that needs the tweak.  Meanwhile each woman left in the wake is wondering why they wasn’t the one that made you realize that. Hell, they TOLD you that.  Why didn’t you listen? Did she ever mean anything?!?!?

    Personally, I’m someone who suffers in silence.  If I’m downing tequila and scribbling hearts in my notebook while listening to 808s, that’s between me and God.  My social media and SoFW; business as usual.  I don’t like people in my business. Especially when the business is struggling. (Triple entendre alert).  Just because I let go, doesn’t mean I don’t care, or never did…but their narrative is going to narrative.  I guess it’s something I can’t change, no matter how much it bothers me.  Salute to all the boys who have been told bye in 2016, just know I feel your plight.  Stay strong.


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    Filed under Dating, Relationships, Simply Stan

    Today’s Word is… BUSY


    Yeah yeah been a while, guess I’ve been…busy.  Was I really though?  Maybe someone been occupying my time?   Maybe I’m over blogging in general? Oh, so I can tweet 11 hours of football but can’t drop a post?  I used to post every day, even a blurb just to check in.  Now I’m being distant.  You can feel it, my heart is not in it anymore.  You aren’t going to read ever again.  Welp.  Now this is the part where I can apologize…offer some believable reason for my ghosting (I actually did do a post last week and didn’t like it so I skipped a week…for real….man whatever, believe what you wanna believe), make a promise to be better and we can check back in a few weeks when I start acting funny again. You’ll buy it because you aren’t really ready to start reading other people.  All they do is copy content from black twitter or front so hard like people don’t know their real strug life offline.  You just want me to be better, for both our sakes.  I will try.  So crisis averted, for now. 

    Cell phones are a gift and a curse in that regard; we are all readily available so much so that it’s apparent when we’re not.  It makes dating crimes such as ghosting completely unacceptable.   It’s hard not to take it personal to send a text that goes unanswered, log on twitter and see them live tweeting Love & Soundcloud Wives of the Potomac.  Read receipts exist because it’s not enough to send a message you need to know that you were ignored.   You speak out against it because you’re out for precedents to represent you, and they will brush it off, apologize and say they been busy.   Why? Because it’s the snooze button on whatever state of the union this is about to turn into.  The sad reality is we don’t necessarily want the truth just a solid lie.  A lie that helps you accept that currently rank below his fantasy football team on his priority list.  The priority argument should really be an ultimatum but most people aren’t prepared to do what needs to be done…you can’t negotiate with a ghost, they know what they are doing already.  

    I’ve been on both sides of it; as the one who is “too busy” and the obliviously curved.  As the curved, in hindsight I really reaching for an excuse to further play myself.  Gimme something, school, work, you’re “bad at texting”.  (She was fine tho).   As someone who is too busy….well, God is working on all of us.  I like to think I’m getting better at not wasting either of our time.  It’s perhaps my biggest growth this year. “I just feel like you not that interested…” “you right”.   Or maybe I’m getting bitter in my late 20s, I haven’t decided yet.  


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    Filed under Dating, Randomness, Simply Stan

    Today’s Word is… HOMIES 

    “Bleek can be one hit away his whole career, long as I’m alive he’s a millionaire”. – Jay Z, 2005

    “Rapper Memphis Bleek files for bankruptcy ” – real life,  2016

    Of course Jay is very much alive…he’s just been married and has had a child since that homeboy hall of fame bar in 2005. That’s life…we get older, find our paths, grow apart, the homies still the homies of course, but your priorities change.  Seems doubly true amongst men, where we are taught to hold your own, have your own, blaze your own. Bleek’s financial woes doesn’t reflect poorly on Jay at all; go get yours.  I’m sure Jay probably tried to put him on so many times and for whatever reason he ain’t listen.  Eventually you just gotta let the anchor sink. 

     This crossed my mind reading a column the other day about friendship.  A woman fearing losing her best friend and how strong such an union can be. I thought of my mother and how she didn’t have any sisters, my aunts were her closest friends.  I thought of my father, and how his army buddies were just that, they swing by say hi to us and go on about their business.  My aunts would stay over, they had our portraits in their house, my mother took in their kids like they were her own.  I have no idea what Mike’s last name is…he’s been my fathers best friend for like 40 years.  

    Male friendships are just…different. There’s this acceptance, or rather indifference where you for the most part let them be who they are.  There are friends I stopped rocking with over the years but it usually was due to something happening more than I can’t afford to be associated with you right now. Male friendships are usually surface level; running ball, turning up, video games, fantasy sports…interest in work starts and ends at “they hiring”, interest in dating starts and ends at “she got friends?”.  Talk beyond that is met with “yo, shits crazy” and “yeah man” platitudes.  Sometimes I look at some friends and just think, “damn, HE’S a parent” (and I’m not) or read ignorant Facebook statuses and wanna comment “you’re 33”. Most male friends I don’t judge, because judgment requires an investment I just don’t have with them.

    With others I like to think I care more than most, I’m the friend who will mock you and hope you do better. If I make fun of you because you can’t finish a sentence without cursing or I call someone a “Will’s Dad ass muhfucka”, its because I care.  Yet I cared but sat idly by and watched friends drop out of school, wife the wrong woman, blow it with a good woman, catch cases on cases and get lost in the sauce.  They surely watched me fall on my face a couple of times. Of course I cared and they cared, but the way of the land, let that man be him, look out for self.  No one wants that meddlesome friend, let alone to be him.  It still sounds inherently wrong,  sit around and wait for a woman to come along and then he’ll start dressing better and his house is cleaner.  There’s clear boundaries set amongst the homies.  No man fears losing a friend because who he is the same way he might for a woman…I wonder if that is a good or bad thing sometimes. 

    Personally,  I’m not tryna get a lecture, you ready to get this L in 2K or nah?  Just as I need a space to be vulnerable, I also need a space where I’m unjudged, unfiltered because where else can I be so?  From that perspective I can get if others share that sentiment so it’s like, “oh you still ain’t break up with her” “iight bet…so what the move tonight”. If you need help, I got you (unless you’re moving…stop asking me to help you move, just cuz I’m big don’t mean I enjoy carrying couches).  As far as meddling, unless you really fucking up, I’m inclined to stay out of it. Because #inwards don’t be listening anyway and I really hate repeating myself.  So does that make me a good homie or a bad friend?


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    Today’s Word is… LOCHTE


    And now for Sports. Sorta.  So Ryan Lochte, or the dude who isn’t Michael Phelps, has been the story of the Olympics.  No, not for winning Gold medals or for black girl magic (which would be odd since he is a white man) but rather for taking the Bronze medal in lying.  Apparently, him and his colleagues were out somewhere they wasn’t supposed to or doing something they wasn’t supposed to…he lost his wallet…and rather than come clean, he went with the timeless classic; blame a brown dude.  He spun a tale about being robbed at gunpoint, standing up to the robber (because you can’t be a bitch in your own story) and then the robber so graciously left him with credentials, his phone, and his clothes…because Lochte hasn’t read the news and has no idea how desperate a robber in Rio would be.  Of course the jig was rising fast and it didn’t take long for anyone with a brain to know he got damn lie.  Oh well, 2 of his partners been detained,  another is in hiding and Lochte is back in the States like “new phone, who this”.  America doesn’t seem to be upset with him, not like he’s Gabby Douglas and not smiling or anything.  Good to be white.  Anyway, why am I talking about this? I don’t do a lot of news stories and I kinda sorta lowkey hate the Olympics.  Basically because it brought me back to a time where I let the lie get too real and frankly I have no better excuse to tell this story…

    Once upon a time not long ago…I was doing the ghetto married thing. My ex wasn’t working at the time, I worked 2 jobs.  I was in love then, so I didn’t complain much but there were times when I needed a break. We had hooky dates, I would have an off day at one job, call out at the other and me and her would have the entire day to ourselves.  The city has a special charm at like 11am on a Wednesday and no one is really around.  But what about when I needed to call out of my “3rd job”, she lived there, she was unavoidable.   I decided to play hooky from her as well, I got up like I was going to both jobs, she got up and hung out with friends, I returned home to chill.   Nothing nefarious, just peace.   So one day, I called out and didn’t tell her, I was home chilling when she text me that she wanted us to have lunch.  “Uh…..sure babe. Sounds great”.

    I’m like okay so let me get up get dressed and have her meet me at a restaurant nearby.  Bet.  So now I get dressed, I head over to the only restaurant nearby this sports bar called Champions.  The service is usually so slow employees don’t waste their break going there, they grab to go orders.  The supervisors usually like to treat the new employees/recent lay offs to lunch there but I guess I’ll take a chance.   The train was underground, I get back above ground and I see missed calls and texts.  She outside the job waiting.  Now, I can either tell her to head over to Champions or make it over to the side entrance and walk out….this was supposed to be a relaxing day.  I just run over to the other entrance and start walking around playing it off.

    God doesn’t like ugly so I run into a coworker.  I don’t even have any lies left I just keep it 100.  He would keep it 50, because by the end of the workday everyone heard about how I got dropped off by one girl and picked up by another.  #Inwards, man.  So anyway, I walk over to the car, we grab lunch and she drops me back off.  “Oh you working both jobs today right?”  Now, I already had a close call, probably should stop Lochteing.  But young and dumb, so I tell her I’ll be off at 10.  “Would you need a ride”. “Nah”.  She says she’s going home.  I just stranded myself. For at least 8 hours.  From my own damn house.  All I wanted was a day off from her. So I go to the gym, chill for a bit, eventually I just head home at 7 with a tailored lie about cut hours.  Which wasn’t even necessary. She wasn’t even home.  Doesn’t even look like she been home.  And she never took anything out to thaw.  That was my life.

    All that trouble, from a very simple lie.  The remainder of my time at the job I was looked at like a Gawd, I probably could’ve clarified…but fuck it, Lochte!  Lochte told one white lie to his mother and it sparked an international news story.  Because apparently a 32 year old man still feels compelled to lie to his mom and seems to be completely oblivious to the fact that an American Olympian being robbed at gunpoint in a foreign country just might maybe could get a headline or two.  Moral of the story…don’t Lochte.  (and gtbw).




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