Monthly Archives: March 2013

Today’s Word is… BAD

When I start off posts with a song it’s usually because I like it/relate to it.  This is not one of them.  The above track is a song I don’t particularly like, “Bad” by Wale. It’s like those twitter/tumblr quotes I also don’t particularly care for. For those who haven’t heard the song, it’s essentially about a woman who self proclaims she’s damaged goods and unworthy of meaningful love, but she ride that thing like a rodeo champ tho. Its a clever play on the word “bad”, but the song, the message itself. Meh. It’s all too a relevant mantra however, as it seems some are embracing it. Years of failed relationships have all but told them they simply aren’t worthy of one. Why not just settle for physical needs instead. But hey c’est la vie.

I’m weird.  I’m not one of those OMG sex is most precious thing in the world you must treasure it always type, but I’m also not one to just touch anybody.  A “bad” chick wouldn’t interest me however, I need a little more from you.  However, I’ve sure accounted for my fair share, exes, flings, neighbors who are offering nothing but golden tickets or assume that’s all they’re good for.  Enter CC, an old summer flame.  Now me and CC, met at a party, exchanged numbers, ran into each other at another party hooked up that same night. Only God can judge me.  But the thing was as we talked more, we liked each other.  We started doing more coupley things, nothing official no pressure, until she told me

“I’m afraid of commitment”

It was odd.  I’ve seen/heard of men using that line, never a woman.  Not that I wanted a relationship but it was an interesting pre emptive strike that made me inquire deeper.  She basically explained she was over relationships all the people she dealt with lied and cheated so why do it to herself.  I guess I understood.  However, I wasn’t a strictly FWB guy. I wasn’t just going have sex and then show her the door, there’s something cold and robotic to that.  We can be friends, we can hang out, you’re watching too many movies.  It was funny I didn’t want her but it was the principle.  So I called her bluff, stopped calling, texting, chilling, come thru, go home.  Ultimately it fizzled out, I’m a courter. I’m a charmer. I’m a hunter. I need something else to hold my attention. 

What was sad about CC and a few others like her was that they all but conceded on the notion they were worthy partners and just decided to get in where they fit in.  Just last week, I had someone pour out her heart to me then turn around and sleep with someone else the next night.  Well, now this is awkward. Her rationale; that was just sex she wants more from me.  Ummm I’m flattered?  It’s ironic really, men typically are accused of just chasing skirts until they reach a point they say, now I’m ready for love.  These “bad” women are essentially doing the same thing.  Men are constantly being told to step up, appreciate a good woman when you have one, shouldn’t these women be held to that same standard?

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Today’s Word Is… UNSPOKEN

Cats are asshole animals.  They are just bred that way.  They learn right and wrong from rewards and consequences.  I’ve had Brady for about 4 months now (does that make me a cat owner *shudders*) he knows right from wrong.  Every now and again, I’ll come home, he just chilling on the counter, without saying a word he knows he’s not allowed there he’ll jump down go about his business.  Now a year ago, I’ll come home, “She” is there, she has her own key she let’s herself in. 

*exchange hellos and pleasantries*
“When you get here”
“Came straight from work I got off at 7”
“Oh ok cool, I’m hungry did you make anything”
“This ain’t my house” *goes into bedroom, bowl of green grapes just chilling on the nightstand* 
“Sarcastic comment about how she makes herself at home in every other regard”
“Why do you always have to start with me”
“Why do I still have to tell you it’d be nice if you cooked considering you’ve been here all day”
*some random unnecessary fight ensues*

We all enter relationships with a certain set of standards and expectations we want from our partner, I’ve been over that before. However, it’s the unspoken expectations, the things that you feel you shouldn’t have to explain, other rather you have and feel it should’ve set in by now, are the killer. 

I’ve said plenty of times on this blog, my number one problem is that I assume everyone sees things exactly how I see them.  Sometimes I feel things are painfully obvious, that it’s like do you listen to me speak or do you just skim through it.  Me and “She” got to the point where the fact I even had to still say these things were more frustrating than the acts themselves.  She felt I was nitpicking, I was just checking the foundation before I went ahead and started building the house.  Perhaps I was too focused on the big picture to even notice the small steps.  Ultimately because that’s what I want, I want my next relationship to be my last one, otherwise why bother.  If I don’t see myself marrying the one I’m with aren’t I just prolonging the inevitable?

I think back to the time I was almost a father, God decided not yet but the experience shed a new light on my then mate.  This woman, irresponsible, irrational, erratic….would be the mother of my child.  It was perhaps a light I should’ve been looked at her at the second we became intimate but things were fully in perspective now. I didn’t love her I liked her, there was no future only the now, we tried to make it work but the writing was on the wall.  She didn’t understand, we were seemingly fine, but in my heart I knew she wasn’t it.  Her small red flags have evolved into full deal breakers. I wanted more, I expected more.

The thing about the unspoken expectations is the fairness to the partner.  She isn’t a mind reader, i’m setting her up for failure.  What if roles reversed and in her mind she was holding me to some standard I just might not surmount to?  Enter communication, the cure all to all that is gray area.  But even that wouldn’t be necessary if simply we’re working towards the same goal, improvement.  If I find myself saying the same thing over and over I’m inclined to believe that you must not truly want the things I do.  If you’re asking me the same things over and over, it’s likely because I don’t want to.  You can say all the right things, even convince yourself you are finished, but never lose sight that you’re supposed to be convincing them, not yourself.

-Stan-     

  

 

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Today’s Word is… RESPONSIBILITY

Well Today’s Word is still respect, but why ruin the format…..so where was I….

“Word of advice, save all that sweet gentleman sh*t for when you get to college, these b*tches that be out here, they ain’t worth it”

The drunken quote from one of the older heads around the way.  Words of consolation I guess. We were all hanging out, drinking, smoking, I didn’t do either.  Whatshername was clearly drunk, and I tried to get her out of there.  She didn’t want to go.  She promptly reminded me that we weren’t together and went back into the back to the explosion of laughter by the ones who overheard.  I went home, pride intact and while I was gone, some older guys from around the way crashed the get together and well, things went down.  when I found out I wasn’t scorned or upset just once again embarrassed.  I thought she was different.   he would try and talk to me still, blaming the alcohol saying she had been taken advantage of.  I couldn’t play myself like that again.  For one she had no qualms about still coming to the hood, sitting on the porch with the very people she was accusing of assault. Writing this now, especially with hindsight on the next turn of events and even Steubenville, maybe I should’ve said something, did something, but then I was just a 16 year old with his pride hurt.  I just needed to explore a deeper end of the dating pool.  So I saved that sweet gentleman ish for college.

Ironically enough, it’s not much different.  Partying and drinking is all but the norm.  I’ve started to drink by now, a few girlfriends by now, but still a gentleman first.  Fast forward a few months, I’m at a party I hear my name yelled, I turn around it’s some guys I know from around the way, let’s call them C & D, their cousin goes here too they’re visiting.  They tell me about a party off campus at another school., me and my boy tag along.  The new party is obviously a lot more wild than the previous on campus affair, just about every bottle on the market at your disposal.  It gets late, C is chatting up a girl, basically says she’s down to mess with all of us. I’m ready to call it a night. D doesn’t want to go back either, the cousin was our ride.  I don’t know him like that but he’s torn between taking me and boy back to campus or staying with them.  He wanted to go home too and pretty much used us as leverage.  I see someone else from school me and my boy ride with her, the cousin stays with them.

Week or so later, I get a call from another friend from the hood.  C, D & the cousin were all arrested, charged with sexual assault.  Their version of the story was she wanted C, and the cousin and not D, but blew the whistle on all of them.  I was just there with them, we could’ve all went down.  Buzz spread about that infamous night, fortunately my name was as far away from it as possible.  Charges were eventually dropped but the damage was done, the cousin expelled, they all did a year in between court dates, the victim’s reputation ruined, I believe she transferred.  What actually happened that night only they and God knows but like Stuebenville, none of it had to go down like that.

Still I look back at both situations with signs of regret.  I didn’t post pictures on Facebook like the Steubenville kids, but I did foresee enough bad things to take myself away from the situations but not enough to really help anyone else.  It brings into question the extent of responsibility when dealing with others.  Had it been a closer friend, a relative, would I had left either of them in those situations?    The connection between Steubenville, the get together, the college party was the lack of responsibility, the victim’s friends left her in an uncompromising spot, as I did Whatshername and to an extent C, D and the cousin.

On the other end of the spectrum one has to have accountability. It’s the dirty side of the coin no one wants to speak on.  People intoxicate themselves and  enter precarious situations.  That doesn’t make what happens to them even remotely justified but it does prevent tragic turn of events from happening.  It’s a thin line between responsibility and accountability, however we owe it to ourselves, as just decent people to at least attempt to help others, even if they rather learn the hard way.

-Stan- 

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Today’s Word is… RESPECT

97….98….99 and….100 posts. Never thought this blog would take it this far…

Anyway doe….i’ll save the fanfare for 10000 views, I got something else on the noggin.

I admit was a little ignorant to what was going on in Stuebenville.  It wasn’t until I started hearing more about the reaction to the media coverage that I went back and read up on it.  The outcry felt there was too much sympathy towards the delinquents, that anyone even associated with such a heinous act should stir no feelings but anger and disgust.  However, I feel there’s just blame to go all around, but that’s not where I’m going with this.  The other underlying theme was an overall respect (or lack thereof) for women.  That an unconscious teen is not “fair game”, that we’ve become a society where hits and likes have become more important than mere decency.  Even as a teen I’ve always stuck to my moral code, remaining who I was despite my circle. 

I go back to when I was 9, when my parents decided that it was best that my brother live with my father.  I was upset, I went on the back porch and cried.  My father before he left came and told me to first cut all that crying out but that I needed to stand tall and be the man of the house, that even as the 2nd youngest I would still be counted on to be the ultimate protector of the women in this house.  It was something that made me proud, I took out the trash with pride (for a week).  My mother would later give me somewhat of the same speech, and so began a new experience living in a house full of women. 

It gave me perspective and an appreciation for women.  My friends……well they wasn’t so lucky.  Fast forward to high school pretty much the same age as the Stuebenville kids.  I was the last amongst my friends to have sex (well as time passed it became clear who was lying, I let em cook tho).  Even lying was too disrespectful to my liking, I had female friends but I was always willing to kill any rumors and take the ribbing that followed.  My boys however made it their prerogative to get that notch on that belt, they would have girls bring a friend for their friend my name Kweli.  We had taken them in some abandoned apartment in the neighborhood, I think he told them we just got the place…they went for it for reasons I don’t quite understand.  They all took their respective girls to whichever room they desired and left me, her and a big elephant in the room.       

Me and whatshername actually hit it off, but not like a bend her over this window sill way but there’s something here way.  She could tell I wasn’t like the others, little did I know that would be a knock against me…..

Actually I think ima leave that here….a cliffhanger, how’s that for a 100th post

-Stan- 

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Today’s Word is… SEXY

Me and some colleagues sitting at lunch. A woman passes our table, we see her around but no one quite knows what she does. We have an impromptu round-table discussion on “would you?”. I say I wouldn’t; the challenge flag is immediately thrown.

“You stay checking her out”

Now stay is a bit too much, but she does catch my eye from time to time; to be honest, I probably would. She’s not overly attractive but there’s something to her, the way she carries herself, that is sexy.

Sexiness to me is more or less how much I desire you. Of course physical attributes play a role, but it goes well beyond that. Confidence, subtlety, curiosity, uniqueness, and reciprocation cup size….that is what’s sexy. Sexiness is an appeal, how alluring one finds you will never be your decision. Take for instance the ever popular Instagram. I’m much more drawn to a woman who’s taking a flick before stepping out than the one with the girl holding her breasts up with one arm, snapping a picture with another, probably took 7 of the same picture before deciding on this one, with a random song lyric caption that’s completely irrelevant. Subtlety wins. What makes random pencil skirt lady so sexy is them hips and that walk is that she knows she’s one of the more attractive women (honestly I’d give the edge to coworker) at a primarily male dominated workplace and she wears it proudly, she doesn’t ask for attention but still commands it. It’s the confidence that’s enticing.

There’s sexiness in the unknown. Some people you just wanna see what it would be like. One person in particular who has grabbed my attention, while being physically attractive what sets her apart is the big game she speaks. There’s a challenge aspect to her, she knows what she wants, what she likes and not shy about stating it. I’m much more excited by the action of you sending a picture than the content. I’m a nerd I need mental stimulation. Keep me guessing, keep me thinking. I guess curiosity and uniqueness are two sides of the same coin. The ones who often stand out are the ones who continue to intrigue me.

As for myself, I would never refer to myself as sexy. I like to think I’m attractive, I take pride in my appearance but there’s something to be said about men who trto be sexy. As I’ve said before, it’s an appeal. I have a gist of what women find sexy about me but I hope someone karate chops me in the throat when I start doing shirtless bathroom pics. However, attention is sexy. I want to be wanted too and sh t. Flirt, flatter, fluck i can’t think of a third word. Aggressiveness (in moderation) is sexy. Actually, that’s somewhat of a trend I’m noticing anyway, women are a lot more aggressive and forward these days (or they’ve always been and just not towards me).

I find it funny when mass media essentially spoon feeds the public what is sexy. Victoria’s Secret can have a million bra ads that don’t appeal to a heterosexual man who is more of a leg man, sell some heels so he know it’s real (or do they already *shrug*). There’s some blind men who don’t find Beyonce sexy, but Candy Crowley can get the business. It’s almost uncontrollable. There’s women I don’t even like I would smash, I don’t find all that attractive yet I covet. Sexiness, like beauty, is in the eye of the beholder. Speaking of beauty….well that’s another post.

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Today’s Word is… REPEAT

People typically hate watching me draw.  They’ll look and awe, then suddenly….*rip* *crunch into ball* *shoot into wastebasket* *holds follow thru*.  They look at me suspiciously “I messed up” “what are you talking about that was nice”.  Perhaps I’m too critical of my own work.  Writing is no different, I have about a 2 dozen draft posts just sitting some complete, most halfway, posts I feel are too personal, too cliche, too long, just sucks.  Again, maybe I’m too critical of my work, maybe some will actually get fine tuned and see the light of day, others might just sit in the drafts forever.  This comes to mind as I run into an old flame (seriously who needs dating websites and bars all you got to do is commute to work), who I don’t quite remember anything wrong with her but just stopped talking.  Perhaps like the drawings that were Kobe’d and recycled, the posts sitting in the drafts, or even this silver tie I was skeptical about at first but has since become my favorite, maybe some things just need a second look. No H&R Block.

When I say “repeat” I don’t essentially mean boomeranging, these aren’t exes, rather people you didn’t quite look at in that way before. “Ms. Wit” is/was (I’m still not sure what/where we are) a repeat.  “Her” is a boomerang.  Timing (speaking of, the post on this has been in the drafts for a minute) is a factor, but I think there’s more to it than that.  Sometimes we just guess wrong, like years after an NFL draft someone writes an article on what would happen if they were to do it over now with hindsight on their side.  I’m someone who typically dates a few people before zoning in on one, that one doesn’t pan out and it’s back to the drawing board like American Idol.

I’ve been a repeat myself.  Suddenly years later, I get hit with a “hey stranger”. (a phrase I vehemently hate it’s like the world’s worst pickup line, try again in another few years).  Why me? Why now?  Just as younger me wanted things that don’t matter now , I’m sure younger versions of themselves were slacking, i been a catch wanted things that seem silly now.   

It’s common for us to just go to what’s familiar,  common for us to want the older, wiser version of ourselves to exist in the past where they were desperately needed.  Younger me probably would go for the easy girl, the lightskinned one, the convenient one, older me wants mature, subtle, stable.  Time passes and our desires change, maybe I’ve already met my wife, maybe I will tomorrow and not realize it for another 5 years.  Repeats are necessary, like double checking your work.

-Stan-

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Today’s Word is… SIDECHICK

The mistress, sidechick, whatever other name you want to use, is a unique character.  They typically represent a multitude of things. Sometimes they don’t even exist; they’re merely an ideal.  They represent everything you aren’t therefore must be.  The personification of the temptation that befalls any committed man.  Sometimes they’re simply the butt of a joke, someone so naive and oblivious to the fact that they are the only one in their relationship. They celebrate Valentine’s Day on the 15th, only get phone calls after 10pm, and never seem to put 2 and 2 together. But often, they are someone who was simply deceived.  A sympathetic figure whose only is being in love with the wrong person or rather the right person at the wrong time. 

I’ve spoken before on the lone time I cheated. It was a drunken, yet inexcusable night of passion. As I woke up, I could see the elephant in the room. What happens now? She was willing to be the other woman, I unwilling to allow her. I knew her better than that, it would kill her.  It was an interesting prospect, the golden egg of convenience, one represented passion, the other stability, in picking one I lose the other, but if I had both? I couldn’t do it, I cared too much to hurt anyone, it was bad enough this first night happened.   Being the other woman is something I would never want to afflict on someone I care about, no matter how tragically romantic Kerry Washington attempts to make it look on television.

I think part of it comes from exasperation. It’s better than nothing. The idea of not being with someone you care about is way worse. No different from two single people enjoying eachothers’ company. Other times it’s better than something, I know personally at one point I willingly was the other guy, let him deal with the perils of a relationship I’ll be the good time. It was my ego getting the best of me, I convinced myself I was too good for a relationship. In reality it was the opposite, I didn’t offer much but a projection. Let her think I was better for her than he, but never step up and prove so. I think that’s the thought process behind shameless mistresses, it’s easy to look the part of the better alternative, harder to prove.

However, in any aspect it’s just something that’s hard to defend. Single people are free to pursue whomever they wish, however any ego boost or validation afforded by “taking” someone else’s man, is typically overcompensation. If it’s someone you really feel you can’t be without, don’t provide incentive to not be chosen. Hold him accountable, demand more. As for the committed the options are simple: Be single, find someone who’s into open relationships (that’s another post entirely I ain’t even going to touch), or simply accept that you can’t have them all. Affairs are simply greed and selfishness.

-Stan-

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