Today’s Word is… LOCHTE

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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).

-Stan-

 

 

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Today’s Word is… UNREQUITED

I believe those ghost hunters shows are full of shit.  I believe Adnan did it. I believe we aren’t alone in the Universe.  I believe Jay Z really cheated.  I don’t believe unrequited love is really love.  Perhaps I’m a love purist, I believe love starts at reciprocity.  I don’t believe that you can truly love someone whonever loved you back, that it’s longing, its projection, its not love.  Maybe that’s the INFJ in me, I require balance, returned affection,  shared energy or I shut down.  I can’t see myself tirelessly trying to make fetch happen and getting nothing in return.  I was having this conversation with a friend who disagreed vehemently.  Who was I to discount someone’s feelings, its arrogance.  I guess….but I’m not so much dismissing feelings as much as I’m wondering aloud, what are you loving?  

I’ve been on both sides of this coin, piner and pinee…truthfully I don’t know which is worse. (Piner is worse)  For most of my early life my “love” was unreturned, I fell hard and fast for anyone who paid me any mind.  I said I love you because it felt like what you were supposed to do, I got curved and you couldn’t tell me Lenny Williams and I wasn’t feeling the same pain.  Except, he was literally losing his world and I barely knew this girl.  He reminiscing the kisses, the moments, the love and I was really really sure I maybe might could like her.  It was practically the same thing. All curves matter yo.  You couldn’t tell me my pain wasn’t real..eventually I could tho.  I can look back and say I was doing the most. Rejection sucks, but I didn’t love these women.  I didn’t know them enough to love them, they didn’t know me enough to love me. 

As the pinee, it’s…awkward.  Sometimes I even wish I could return the feelings just because I hate uncomfortable situations.  I can admit I was a little naive in the past, I flirted, I teased completely oblivious to the feelings my actions my engender.  Sometimes I just assume they know better than to actually shoot their shot.  But feelings gon feel I suppose. Nevertheless,it still wasn’t love they felt.  They never seen me in a romantic light to love me.  Ask them why they love me and its all about possibles and singing if weeeeeeee like Jeremih. Full disclosure,  I’m awesome, but all they know is what seems like a really good idea.  Which is all well and good but…still not love.  Especially when all I’m giving in return is jokes and the occasional compliment.  I don’t even deserve it, really. How did we get here?

So what do you call these unreturned, projected feels? Is unrequited love already considered a lower quality of love so much so we can let them sit with us?  Nigga, I guess.  Love is beautiful, magical, freeing…yet these days its so commonly associated with hurt and heartbreak.  Unrequited jawns feel their love is the same because the hurt hurts but if you’ve never felt the high that mutual healthy love has given you…you doing it wrong. Stressing about exes you never dated, loving people who never earned it. Y’all got it.  Maybe I’m splitting hairs here. Unrequited love can come to the cookout. Better bring ice and foil at least.

-Stan-

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Today’s Word is… APPROACHING

[Editor’s Note: So 4 years ago today, a young, snarky unemployed guy sat down at his laptop and decided to start a blog.   Today’s Word was Start. A place to touch on pop culture, sports, politics and be the voice of young black millennial…then he found a job, got his heart broke a couple times and just wrote about that. Shit happens.  Regardless SFW turns 4 today. It is bachelor’s degree, it is my 2nd longest relationship, it is a Presidential term, it is a toddler who isn’t really as cute as they used to be.  Your 4 year old isn’t cute. Fight me.  And so we on to season 5 (this was also supposed to be my 300th post but I think I’m like 2 off..whatever).  I would say year 5  will be the last one, but I’m sure I said that last year.  Guess I still haven’t quite run out of shit to talk about, yet. Today’s Word is … END is coming one day though, so appreciate me and shit…anyway back to your regularly scheduled programming.]

So one night coming home from work, waiting for the train, I see a girl and a roach.  Not a literal roach, but some dude who kinda looked like Chief Keef, let’s call him Ghost.  Ghost is spitting his game at the girl, let’s call her Tasha (Watching Power as I write this) she isn’t completely repulsed, or just really polite but she doesn’t appear interested. He had her attention but no idea what to do with it.  Ghost is actually waiting for the train in the other direction, so when it arrives he leaves. She rolls her eyes, I peep, I chuckle and she gives me a mean side eye.  At this point, I figure if Ghost could strike up convo with her why can’t I? Yada, yada, yada, we exchange numbers and I refuse to learn my lesson about meeting women on my commute like I won’t see them again. (Hi Mary).   
So anyway, I call Tasha; and we talk about how we met and being approached in general. Now, I’m no stranger to such horror stories, from my 3 sisters, girlfriends to even online with hashtags like #youoksis and #nowomanever, women expressing their anxieties about being stepped to in public much to the dismay of men who are conveniently ignorant on the issue.  I remember having to walk to meet my sister at a bus stop, answering phones to scare away dudes who couldn’t take a hint.  I also remember yelling out “ay red shirt” just to impress my boys; passing around phones just to store numbers in. Looking back, it was wildly ineffective so why did we even bother in the first place?  Its still ineffective so why do dudes still insist on doing it? Perchance because it has nothing to do with “meeting”  women at all as much as its simply a power play. 
I guess that’s what kills me about this harassment debate, especially online; we clearly know the difference between a social setting and otherwise.  Women everywhere are saying this isn’t how I want to be stepped to, and men who supposedly want these women are countering with, “well this is how I kick it.” Ok fam.  Don’t shoot your shot at the gym, or in the line H&M, Sam I Am.  If she’s at WalMart in sweats understand she isn’t trying to be wooed, if she at a Day Party….then well, you just might be ugly. The game is the game.  Are there exceptions? Of course, but let’s get the basics first. 

Now, I probably don’t meet Tasha if a) Ghost fumble in front of me b) she doesn’t take the bait of my not so subtle laughter.   Tale of two approaches.  A different day, a different woman, Ghost’s confidence wins and I’m wondering why didn’t I say something first.  Or she shuts us both down and goes on a Facebook rant about how she wishes niggas on the train not talk to her.  There isn’t necessarily a right way to shoot your shot, everyone is different but there’s plenty of wrong ones most of them start and end with respect and not being a fuggin savage.  If you don’t understand what that means? Maybe you should leave the approaching to the adults. 

-Stan-

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Today’s Word is… SMOOCHR

So over the past 24 hours, the internet has been abuzz about Smoochr, a new dating app aimed at African Americans that allows you to choose a mate based by complexion, hair type and size of your lips. (I wish the internet would put some respeck on the letter e, e did nothing to deserve Judy Winslow treatment)  My first thought was that it had to be a joke, otherwise this is the most ridiculous thing I ever seen.  Of course, the thinkpiece industrial complex took over and varying pieces about how troublesome and problematic this app was hit the web because why ignore something you dislike when you can join it, take screenshots and write 700 words about it.  I have 7. The app is fucking stupid, The end.  

To be a wee bit fair, most online dating platforms are. While Smoochr is getting deservedly dragged for being the digital brown paper bag test in 2016, I couldn’t help but wonder about what WOULD be the hero black e love deserves, that it needs; the quintessential black dating app.  (My vote is soulswipe because the name remains hilarious to me, but the correct answer is and always has been Twitter)

Until now, as I roll out my blueprint for the black dating app we need, Chose© (patent pending…don’t steal my idea, Ill come find you, Liam Neeson style) style.  Chose or Chs because dropping vowels is cool or something, will cut through a lot of the bull that dating apps have today, starting with questions that really cut to the core

Height: 

Height with timbs/heels:

Height next to actual 6′ person:

What is your body type:

What is your preferred body type

Have you actually dated a someone of said body type?

If no, please adjust your preferences accordingly

When was your last dental exam?

Do you actually like to read books for leisure?

Which Jamie Foxx Hairline are you

Drums or Flats?

Do you drive?

Do you have regular access to an automobile ?

Do you luh God? 

Have you or ever set foot on the island you rep 

Are you employed and receive pay regularly?

Can you actually afford to date regularly? 

Are you single?

Would someone be upset if they heard you say you were single?

What body type was your mama back in the day

What was her type after she had you

Are you a sapiosexual?

If yes,  go away. 

Are you Black Lives Matter or wrong?

Please upload a photo:

Do you dress like this usually?

How old is this photo?

If > 12 months,  please upload recent photo:

So then, where Smoochr and other dating sites always slip up is they completely disregard the whole dating part.  My solution…Reviews. Maybe he was musty, maybe she is boring or not quite over her ex. Reviews hold people accountable, you wouldn’t stay at a hotel that was rated 2 stars why should you date a 2 star ass person?   Also you yourself get valuable feedback and now your friends can stop lying to you about how great you are. Chose© look for it in the app store and Google Play the day after Frank Ocean drops, the Eagles win a Superbowl and the police go 365 days without killing an unarmed black person. 

-Stan- 

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Today’s Word is… COOL


Boy meets Girl. Boy likes Girl. Boy wants to get to know Girl a little better. Girl starts off talking about her love of motorcycles (Boy is afraid of them, still a thug tho), she casually mentions how she’s watching a comic book movie or sports when he hits her up.   Boy and Girl have a lot in common*, she’s a tomboy who also loves, heels, makeup and dresses. Ironically enough, Girl actually doesn’t like to go out, Girl wants to hang out have sex, eat pizza and laugh at bad movies. Boy really likes Girl, but he’s not necessarily looking for a relationship just yet. Girl understands*, she doesn’t trip off of titles anyway.  If its meant to be, it’ll be….

So, seemingly boy hit the jackpot; the attractive, low maintenance unicorn!  Or as it was explained in Gone (head and get that divorce,) Girl, the cool girl.  The description of the cool girl illustrates what dating has become, courting for men has been reduced to mere availability while the women respond in kind with acquiescence.  The cool girl has tainted the already shallow dating pool, with expectations and bars so low you could trip on them.  There has been pushback against the cool girl, largely from women who are challenging women to be better, expect better, have some dignity; you don’t have to hide yourself to get chose. Sound advice that I hope works because, I am soooo sick of the “cool girl” too.

I’m actually turned off by the cool girl.  I’m Prince Akeem to the bullshit.  For starters,  its blatant manipulation.  Play it cool, wait for him to fall and then unload a bunch of repressed feelings.  The Steve Harveyisms would lead you to believe that once you trick a man into loving you, you straight.  (He’s also 3 times divorced so clearly results vary).  I date to know who you are and you’re simply trying to be what you think I want.  I’m/it’s not that deep.  Akeem was at least a prince, I’m just a guy with a beard and a 401k.  Ultimately, for the white readers who didn’t see Coming to America  Akeem went for (the lightest woman in the movie because this was 1988) the woman who wasn’t a doormat. The Boy from the beginning? Ended up dating someone else. Because we all know how it goes with the “cool girl ” she takes on more and more resentment in lieu of accountability and then suddenly showing up places uninvited because you need to talk, or faking your own death and framing him for murder (stupid movie) seems perfectly rational because how dare you ain’t lose all this self respect for no reason. 

All that to say, for who, for what?  I can lie on a resume,  charm in an interview but eventually the time will come where I have to prove I’m proficient in Excel.  As will the time when women who adjust all try ear standards for a man, gets one and now they stuck in a Sportscenter and chill, dating without labels, texting sporadically, picking up checks, never get jealous ass relationship.  Are there women who are genuinely down for it? Sure (And apparently they all exist on Twitter).   But the majority?  They are 3 “its cool”s away from staging a murder.  Stay woke.

-Stan- 

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Today’s Word is… COPS

[Editor’s Note: I had a post in mind but in light of recent events, I really have nothing to say.  Maybe later this week.  So, I went back to tweaked an old post… RIP Alton Sterling]

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So it was about 5 years ago, I had just moved into my first apartment.  I got up went to work and when I got home there was note on the door by a neighbor, “the cops stopped by looking for you”. My reaction, well, now this is odd.  They had also left a voicemail on my home phone saying they needed me to come by the station.  Total, help me sing. I go to the station, wondering every bad decision I’ve made in the past year and wondering who got some bail money, if necessary.  I just moved here, I’m a law abiding citizen, what could they possibly have to say.  I get there and…..they were just returning my wallet.  I had lost it weeks ago, already went through the arduous task of replacing everything in it and just when I made peace with the fact that it was lost in the sauce lost in the game…here it was.  Won’t He do it.   I had a talk with a few officers, talking about how I just moved out here, sights and sounds stuff like that.  They recommended a bunch of places that I probably would never set foot in, and then I was on my way.  Over the years, I would get familiar with the cops of the town, they walked the streets regularly, most lived in the town, whether I was in a suit or baggy camo shorts and a fitted; they waved, made meaningless small talk and essentially, treated me like a neighbor.

It was a whole new dynamic I wasn’t used to.  Prior to this point, I’ve been falsely arrested twice, weapons drawn on me, followed home, stopped and frisked on my own porch, called bitch, nigger, punk and thug, witnessed a family member being assaulted, knock on wood the only thing that hasn’t happened yet is someone I knew personally being killed.  (So you see why I may have been anxious about going to the station in the opening).  Of course, this was in my old neighborhood, where I was still for the most part a good kid.  The cops there maybe lived in the neighborhood, they didn’t know me by name which was ironic because I was getting frisked and name ran 3 times a day.  Me and my friends would take alternate routes home, keep our bookbags on so they would believe we were actually students, we would split up into separate groups of 2-3 because a large group of us together was just asking for it.  It was almost like having a playground bully except you couldn’t stand up to him, you just learned to stay out the way.   It wasn’t even worth explaining to our parents, hell, people have gotten hauled off for “disturbing the peace” just for defending us.

For what its worth, I do respect law enforcement and the thankless job they have. However, recent events has really made me reflect on my personal experiences with the boys in blue; which as you can see were two very different ones.   The glaring difference being the connection between officers and community they are serving.   In my old hood, we were treated as the enemy, to the point our mere presence was enough to drive them mad.  Their job wasn’t to serve, it was to eliminate, we weren’t allowed on these streets anymore and they made sure we got the message.  [These days the old neighborhood has got a face lift, a lot people have moved because of rising rent and the old park has been remodeled and named in honor of one of the lone white residents (who is actually a close family friend, so no shade or whatever). Funny how that worked out.  Shoutout that G’Cation, I’m sure the corner store will become a Starbucks one day.]

So what happens public servants are treated as guard dogs instead of part of the community they are supposed to be a part of?  Well, this does.  A cop familiar with his community could’ve told Eric Garner or Alton Sterling to cut the shit and go home, Tamir Rice to not flash his toy in public, Mike Brown and his friend to get out of the street.  Instead, they just saw targets, saw “the enemy” and acted accordingly.  So as the President on down asks, how can the police improve relations with people of color, it starts by establishing one period.  It starts with humanizing everyone and not thinking every brown person is The Incredible Hulk.  It shouldn’t be my job to make person who swore to protect me feel safe.  I shouldn’t have to pull my pants up, wear my cap forward and grin ear to ear just to be viewed as an equal.   In the same way I don’t view every cop as the same one who choke slammed me in that pizzeria, every cop shouldn’t view me or anyone else as a “demon”.  That doesn’t start with video cameras and fashion, it starts with empathy, acceptance and community.  Until police officers, truly love and accept all civilians, sadly I expect more of the same.  Living in a reality where myself and anyone I love being one bullet away from becoming a hashtag.

-Stan-

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July 6, 2016 · 9:50 am

Today’s Word is… RIGHT

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“You know what your problem is”

(I always think I’m right.  I get that a lot.  At least 3 this year alone.    Maybe there’s something to it.  I don’t know if I agree.  Or is this me trying to be right again? Shut up.)

“You always got to be right”

(See, I knew it)

Conventional wisdom says, pick your battles, know when to hold em know when to fold em all that jazz.   Conflicts are to be expected, but how one is handled is the difference between #relationshipgoals and #foreveralone.  A struggle I have, admittedly, is not so much picking battles but understanding every battle doesn’t need to be won.  Its a struggle we all have really, we’re conditioned to defend ourselves mercilessly, in service roles its taught that the customers are always right (they aren’t,  like ever, also this is why I don’t work in service…I can’t take a stranger popping off to me any ol type of way because they probably make less than me at their job).  Being right all the time doesn’t just come off as stubbornness but dominance.  Why even address issues when you know they are just going to talk their way out of it/or are so stubborn that even if you are right, it’ll go unacknowledged.  Arguments become about wins and losses and not about the mutual understanding that is ought to.

I’d like to think that I’m open minded and accountable.  I think a lot about the things I say before I say it, especially in text, but its also a double edged sword.  After I’ve thought deeply, prayed, sought advisement on something,  it only makes it that much harder to set it aside because I know I’m right.  Its not that I don’t see the other side of things, its that I did see it and I KNOW its wrong.  But “why can’t youbjust see things my way” can turn into “why they ain’t returning my calls” real quick. So deference is necessary.  No one wants to lose all the time.  Except the Sixers.

No one wants to lose ever, really.  Just as I said earlier I can’t work in service, I’m also the customer who will read you for filth if I want something. (Only in live chat tho, I’m not trying to argue on the phone for hours…you can catch these Twitter fingers tho).  Just as I can view my own hypocrisy there, I can recognize that I’m really not trying to deal with someone who gotta be right all the time.  Its why I clash with people who are a lot like me.  Like this one girl who had the audamndacity to (redacted). When you’re just trying to flat out rationalize fuckshit,  clearly this isn’t about a mutual understanding anymore its about not being wrong. 

Ultimately,  sometimes its as simple as, you want to be right or be happy.  You proved your point…but now you embarrassed them.  You proved your point…but violated trust in the process.  You proved your point…but now they just go to someone else with their problems.   Ain’t no award for that.  Just hurt feelings and ego boosts.  Being right just ain’t worth it sometimes,  just ask Meek Mill.

-Stan-   
 

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