Category Archives: Simply Stan

Today’s Word is… SELFOFSTEAM

There’s no bigger ego stroke than someone falling in love with you.  For that someone that you was once just a stranger, a casual acquaintance, a classmate and now you’re everything.  We all have varying values on sex, some can’t sleep with someone they don’t love while others will swipe right get their itch scratched and maybe reminisce about it on a random cold evening.  In either regard, having someone fall for you is the true conquest.  Hell, just having someone is still viewed as the ultimate validation.  While it’s more commonly used to shame women, in reality it’s moreso men who truly get their #selfofsteam and confidence from their romantic relationships.  We’re the pursuers after all, a woman is as single as her options while a man is as single as his efforts.  Men aren’t above getting their Chante Moore on, especially with a bad one.
What about the man without that validation?  No one wants to be the old head at the club or the 40 year old bachelor on tinder who has never been in love before and now your date’s friends are wondering what’s wrong with you. (Basically, gotta have experience, but can’t have baggage. Dating is stupid.)  Toxic as it may be, we still equate manhood with our appeal to women, and if you don’t have no sauce you’re lost (Gucci Mane, 2013). 

 So naturally, there was a time where that was where I got all my confidence from.  Didn’t matter what anyone else thought of me; she thinks I’m funny, she thinks I’m fly, she loves me.  Then one day, she didn’t.  It left a void in my self worth.  Was I not those things anymore?  But reflection and growth took too long so, I just found another woman who did.  I could start over, charm, court, woo…be everything she was looking for and in return I would get validation.  I found someone, so clearly it’s not me it’s her.  Then when that flamed out, oh look there’s another.  I could keep going hunting and hunting, never really learning from my flame outs because they’ll always another woman who’s waiting for someone like me.  Except, I wasn’t even someone like me anymore.

The relationships themselves were burning out quicker each time.  The cure had become the disease, now I was tripping over every fall out with women, even the ones I wasn’t even sure I liked.  I just liked being Prince Charming. Meanwhile, she couldn’t even tell me what my favorite color was.  I couldn’t tell you what I liked most about them. My dating life had gotten aimless, I just got into relationships because that was the right thing to do and it wasn’t necessarily what I wanted.  I had become lost in the sauce, just as Gucci warned.

It was a year ago today actually, I found myself listening to Views, rolling my eyes at Aubrey’s arrogrant attempts at affliction (alliteration ftw) and coming to the realization of….wait, that’s me.  Was my ego out of control, or was it always just low self esteem? I went with the former, because why would I cop to low self esteem?  The issue was I was just picking the wrong ones…purposely. Yeah, that was it.  Now I had Tequila, someone who I knew I wanted from the moment I saw her.  Failed spectacularly.   She said I couldn’t love her because I didn’t love myself.  I pffffffft’d.  I moved on and she’s…well. (there was gonna be a parting shot here but I’ma rise above).  

I’m my best me when I have someone, when I’m happy…as most men are.  The love and support of a good woman is the ultimate glo up.  How else are you going to learn to use real garlic instead of garlic salt, invest in quality bedoing and stop hanging up posters with scotch tape. Some are happier with a plethora of women sweating them whilst remaining single and then you know, sup Carmelo.  Seldom is it just a nut, it’s affairs, situationships, strings attached maybe it’s all just a result of low self esteem and unable to be content with I got mine and I’m good.  Contrary to popular belief we aren’t just dogs with no impulse control, we are self aware adults who just long to be validated. Over and over again.   Or something.  Shrug life.

-Stan-

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Today’s Word is… STANDARDS

[Editors Note: Issa throwback…well, with a director’s cut.]


Attractive. Educated. Independent. Sweet. Confident. Compassionate.
(I just described most of my exes. Hell, I just described me.) 

Minimal baggage. Career. Non smoker. Social or not Drinker. Been in long term relationship. Classy.
(Still got most of my exes, a few eliminated, i’m still there)

Knows how to cook. Hair stays done. Always groomed. Puts it down in the sheets. Sense of style.  Body’s stacked.
(Still got some of my exes…no self respecting man will call themselves stacked, that’s where I bow out.)

5’9 and under. In shape.  Knows how to defer to a man. No trust issues. Diversified interests. Mentally stimulating. Great chemistry.
(I’m hearing chatter…now who do I think I am, what am I bringing to the table)

Low maintenance. Good with hanging out at home. Understands discretion.  Can make lasagna. Open minded in the bedroom. Wants kids. Fiscally responsible.
(This negreaux think he Idris or something…)

Standards are funny, as are the people love/hate them. No one ever has issue with standards unless it inconveniences them.  I don’t care that if you’re only chasing 6’4 lightskinned dudes you’re going to miss out on great guys, I care that I’m not 6’4 or lightskinned and I will never be, therefore I’m not invited to that table.  I didn’t want to sit there but now that I can’t, suddenly I want to sit there?  For who, for what? My list was very p.c, however if I got my mac on (You ever read something you wrote years ago and roll your eyes at how lame you were…this was one of those times) and said I want an exotic chick, hourglass figure, all natural…sistas would come for my head.  Reason #1, they’ll be damned if I don’t want them even if they don’t want me cuz…principality. Reason #2, who the hell am I to have such strong demands.

As you get older, and still single suddenly your standards are too blame.  The Beast could’ve let Belle just go have brunch with her girls and they would’ve told her that he’s tall AND has a whole castle, dont. block. ya. blessings. and she’d probably go right back.  Men don’t get it nearly as hard, I can probably hand wring myself to loneliness until at least 33.  Men aren’t told they are being unreasonable, or they are expecting perfection even when they are.  I have a homeboy who for the most part splurges on instajawns and to my knowledge never had an actual girlfriend.  I’m sure his mama might ask, but no one else cares.

Your standards represent you, your priorities, your traits, your aspirations.  It shows if you’re looking to just be treated good, f cked right, or want an actual relationship.  It shows your self confidence and what you believe you bring to the table.  Women say that men are constantly pestering them to lower their standards to accommodate them; I’m actually the opposite, show me you demand all that.  This goes both ways, you can’t be all over the club scene and social media and then demand someone who isn’t all over the club scene and social media.  You can’t demand a woman who’s cultured when all you watch is sports and action movies.  You can’t demand a man with his own place and a car when you staying at a homegirl’s and working part time.  I mean you can demand but spoiler alert, it won’t work out well for you.  Those independent, ambitious people you seek…well, they want other independent ambitious people.
There has to be some accountability for who you choose to let into your life, who you expect to come into your life and how they’re treated when they’re there.  The time spent on people who aren’t on “your level” adds up. It’s a lesson I’m still learning, my phone just full of women who I know weren’t what I was looking for, but #Ihaveneeds.  I can’t be taken seriously if I’m not taking my own standards seriously.  I know what I want and I’m not settling for less (maybe a few things, the lasagna game is non negotiable tho), in the meantime I #minuswhale use my time as productively as possible so I become the offer she can’t refuse.
-Stan-

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Today’s Word is… FLIGHT


The “fight or flight response” is our body’s primitive, automatic, inborn response that prepares the body to “fight” or “flee” from perceived attack, harm or threat to our survival.  You could say the same applies to our overall well being, particularly in dating. Your relationship hits a snag, do you fight or flight?  I feel like the generations before fought; adversity just came with the territory.   We all know of the old married couple who damn near hate each other and now they’ve been married 50 years because who wants to start over even after 10.  Then of course there was the whole women couldn’t work, don’t want to leave the kids, cost of divorce, etc so they just rode the wave of a decision they made at 18 years old and waited for the other to just die already.   The pickings were slim and when you had one you kept it.  Abuse, affairs, aloofness, alcoholism  (alliteration for the win) you rode it out.
These days, having seen what they went through we are flightier than ever. We stay in airplane mode.  It’s easy to move on when every single person in a 30 mile radius is right there in an app.  (Or further than that; if you’re into that kinda thing) Is it an overcorrection?  Perhaps.  Dating has become fundamentally flawed because everyone has one foot out the door because they won’t be the ones looking like BooBoo the fool.  We’ve gone from slim pickings to option overload.  We’re casually moving on the next one and effectively not learning anything. Where’s the incentive to?  I learned recently some women won’t even save your number until you prove yourself.  A contact, B?  We are so dismissive about dating that it’s like why do we even bother?  Or is it we are just really careful.  We hook up, explore options and when we’ve had our fun we turn around and then settle down with no regrets.  Maybe we need a word for the stage when you are dating but are fairly certain you haven’t found your forever worth fighting for.

 My fight was the skrongest.  I fell hard and fast and turned a blind eye to things that I probably knew better to.  Now, it’s a fight to even want to fight.  I’d become a pragmatist, we probably won’t get married so this is just borrowed time anyway.  It wasn’t even that I didn’t care for these women I just couldn’t disabuse myself of the inevitable.  I’m an INFJ, I project and shit.  It wasn’t fair to them (even though I’m pretty accurate with these things), the magic 8 ball in my head told me this wasn’t going to last and I acted accordingly.  Now because of me, she is pretty much over geminis, dark skin, beards, accountants, and dudes with blogs.  So she’s cold to them and they take it our on the next girl. It’s the circle of strife.  

Maybe one day we’ll reach that middle ground where you aren’t hanging on to a dead end relationship but also aren’t blocking numbers because you haven’t spoke in a few days.  Where real feelings aren’t being hidden by passive aggressive memes and being yasssssed by the same home girls who are eyeball emoji’ng his pictures.  I used to be patient, I used to be persistent and even I have to catch myself from sinking the whole island when I’m peeved.  I’ve stayed too long in situations and probably gave up too easily on others. The former likely the cause of the latter.  You fight and get your ass whooped your instinct is probably flight the next time.  And flight is the safest way to go if you never want to be hurt, but it’s also means you’ll never win either.  

-Stan-

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Today’s Word is… THERAPY

So, I tried therapy before.  No shame in it, I was dealing with some things and my employer provided free counseling  (y’all should really check if you got EAP benefits) and I’m like, why not?  I go to my session, it’s an older white man, really nice guy (even though he used to to do this thing where he would quote relatively known people and ask if I heard of them, yes nilla I heard of Thomas Jefferson; he probably raped an ancestor so we kin).  So I went into the first 3 sessions, and well, I felt like I was talking to one of you.  He was just too into the story, and I mean I’ve lived quite a life but I wasn’t feeling like I was getting what I needed there. I won’t say it wasn’t helpful at all, there were some things he pointed out that still sit with me that I may not ever had. However, at the end of the employer sponsored sessions he asked (did I have real insurance…I almost booked a session just so he wouldn’t think I couldnt afford it…I’m self conscious, maybe I should see another therapist about that) and if I wanted to continue to see him, I decided thanks, but no thanks. I just felt like a middle aged married white man just wasn’t getting me and wasn’t going to.  Nothing against him, but he (it) just wasn’t for me.  

I’m quite aware I sound like the stereotype, studies show black people are 20% more likely to have psychological distress than white people, which, duh…being black in America is fugging stressful.  7% of black men will experience some form of severe depression in their lifetime. Studies also show black people make up less than 2% of the mental health field so I mean, the options are pay a microagressive shrink or just deal.  Like I said, being black in America is fugging stressful. All of this came to mind the other day at the barbershop as I was watching my barber the other day. It was just an ordinary Saturday, I was about 15 minutes late for my appointment and got leapfrogged (which…how you just gonna leapfrog me, B? All these years? I had plans that night, this nigga ain’t have no plans, he was gonna take a few pics for the gram and sit in there house playing 2K…I almost prayed his hand slipped and he messed up but God don’t like ugly).  Anyway, Toupee Fiasco was on the TV for some reason and Young Leapfrog went off.  Just ranting about everything and my barber just nodded and agreed, focused on his craft (to my disappointment he never messed up) giving his own points when he could.  It was like witnessing a therapy session. So as I sat watching and hating I thought, yo heprobably has had this same conversation all day every day for months.  At the end of the cut, you feeling fresh and empowered.  For $27 dollars a session. Plus tip. So basically, barbers > therapists. I’m kidding.

I know therapy works great and is productive for plenty of people.  We need it as a resource, as a staple, because we’re hurting out here.  And I mean of course a barber isn’t as qualified as a mental health professional.  The solution is more of US as professionals in the first place.  In the interim, men might trust their gfs and barbers over therapists just as we probably trust Naturalista6969 on a message board over a white dermatologist.  We find comfort amongst our own.  However, therapy in general…I just don’t think it’s for me. Nor is brooding and coming home to a bottle of scotch and trying to live vicariously through my sports teams because thats the “manly” way to emote.

So, I just incorporate my own ways to cope, unwind, find peace.  Or as the streets say, self-care.  I pray, I sleep, I blog, I play video games, I shoot hoops, I run (walk briskly and sprint a couple times so the numbers add up), I facetime, I play hooky from work once a month, I clean, I listen to music, I get massages, I send selfies, I block numbers,  I see family, I draw, I fuck, I shop, I wander, I tweet, I vent, I Netflix, I turn up, I flirt, I drink (tea),  I travel, I eat good, I laugh a lot.  None singularly are THE answer, they all are.  Keep your heart, 3 stacks.

Some find therapy more helpful, some find self care more helpful, but you don’t need to be a Kendrick or Drake fan about this; it doesn’t have to be one or the other.  It’s possible to apply both.  Perhaps, preferably so.  I’ve had homies bare their soul over an ass whooping in Madden.  I’ve learned so much about myself in these posts, some drafts will never see the light of day because they got too real.  Black men may not go to traditonal therapy, but will pillow talk their girl to death.  Me, Kid Cudi and Kanye got through 2010 together. 2016 brought many people to new church homes, hell, even therapy.  We all just trying to find our way.   Or maybe it took me going to therapy to realize all of the other ways I practice self care because I’m not comfortable in that setting. Boom. Mind blown.

-Stan-

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Today’s Word is… TALE

My life is a comedy of errors sometimes. Every now and again, I find myself in situations and I can only laugh because of course it would happen to me.  Gather round boys and girls, its story time.

*cues Story to Tell instrumental*

So I’m at a happy hour with some folks, I meet…let’s call her Nancy.  Nancy and I hit it off, she was an engineer of sorts did something I wasn’t smart or sober enough to comprehend.  She talked abut how she loved to travel but that’s what every woman says.  Her and her homegirl are about to take off, she’s like okay so what’s your instagram?  *record scratch* Like I remember I saw that in an episode of Atlanta but I didn’t know this happened in real life.  So in my head I’m like issa curve.  The next day she DMs me like I forgot to give you my number.  Curve reversed. Iight bet. So anyway, I don’t really use it because I’m me. (and I got a man crate so I think I’m seeing someone but that’s another story for another time). Anyway, Nancy would hit me up randomly,  we have casual conversation.  Then one day, she’s like hey I’m doing an event in your area would you like to come?  I’m like sure why not.

She sends me the address, it’s the dance studio down the street.  I go and she’s really happy to see me, a little weird because we barely speak outside of quick convos but hey.  She introduces me to a bunch of people, and because it’s a studio there’s music going everyone is just dancing amongst themselves, it’s like a scene in Step Up.  So then the music stops, and everyone heads downstairs, there’s a bunch of chairs around a projector. I’m like okay her event, I figure it’s some sort of community service project of sorts.  There’s plenty of chairs she comes and sits on my lap.  Again, kinda weird but I just roll with it.  Then, this dude I met earlier gets up to speak….

…it’s a Pyramid Scheme.

So, I’m trapped.  I sit through the presentation. I hear all the red flags and I can’t help but judge her. (Again, she’s an engineer).  So at the end she pulls out her phone like so I think we should do it. (She was clearly in one of the photos).  I’m like…uh…I’m not quite sure.   Some other sucker signed up as a platinum member at that, everyone gets up to hug him and welcome him to the family.  This is beyond a pyramid scheme this feels a little culty.  I get up and ready to slide out, Nancy is like if we do it together we get half off or something, I’ve done sales I know game when I see game. I excuse myself to go the bathroom…she follows me upstairs.  Posts up by the door.  If there was a window I might’ve considered going for it.  So because I don’t do awkward well, I’m like I need to sleep on it.  She’s like well, I can sign you up and you pay me back.  She really didnt wanna be saved but I did. Told her I actually needed to sleep on it.  I get a text from a  random number, like “welcome to the family”.  She didn’t. She couldn’t.  “I hope you don’t mind but some people wanted your number.” She did.

So then we leave I walk her to her car, she gives me some literature and leans for a kiss goodnight.  I give her cheek and I never wanted to get home more.  The remainder of the night I would wonder if I was the mark or if she really liked me as I was flooded with texts from members of the travel cult.  I don’t know if she lied to her “family” or actually signed me up to save face and well, I tried to save her from herself.  They seemed like cool people outside of the whole cult thing, but I’ll just stick to the savings and fare glitches I’m used to. Nancy has hit me up since, I haven’t had much to say.  I guess travel cult pyramid scheme is a dealbreaker.  And so concludes my tale of how I almost maybe might could be in a cult. Or may possibly end up on People’s Court.  Hopefully, Judge Judy…she’d definitely take my side. Because this is just how my life is sometimes.  Escaping through the window would’ve been a funnier ending tho.

-Stan-

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Today’s Word is… TOUPEE

[Editors Note: So by popular demand, I decided to keep the Trumpocalypse train rolling.  First Monday of the month, every month, until I go insane or he gets impeached.  Then regularly scheduled programming every week.  K. Thanks. Bye.]

The Trumpocalypse: Part IPart II

2/5/17 (Day 89)- Sports has long been the escape for many, including myself.  So Super Bowl Sunday, I just want to drink beer, eat way too many wings and watch my favorite team play.  In what can only be strange irony, it was my Patriots against the Atlanta Falcons.  Toupee Fiasco citing his friendships with the coach, QB and owner adopted the Patriots as his own (even though he don’t even go here) and I find myself being on the wrong side of this two Americas bowl.  It was like being the one person who cared about justice after the OJ verdict, or preferring turkey bacon, sugar grits and thinking Thriller was Michael’s best album.  As much as we argue against being a monolith, no one likes being against the tribe.  But there I was rooting for the official team of #MAGA.  Then more I sat with it, I came to the realization I wasn’t about to let the Supercallousmisogynisticracistnazipotus run me off my team, he, Brady, Belichick will all be gone within the next 4 years anyway.  And Georgia is a red state.

2/9/17 (Day 93)- Federal courts have ruled against Persimmon Putin’s Muslim ban.  It’s certainly a victory for the moment.  TwitterFingers-in-Chief not much unlike a cartoon supervillain exclaims vengeance will be his, he’ll see them in court.  Yes, he told JUDGES he’ll see them in court.  65 million people voted for this man, B.

2/12/17 (Day 96)- So I’m in Chicago, some business and some R&R, as my luck would have it my hotel would be right across the street from a Trump Tower.  I remember every day walking out and seeing this obnoxiously large building, shaking my head and going on about my day.  But today was different.  There was a crowd outside the tower.  I check my phone for any news…Cantaloupe Caillou has been actually pretty silent, still licking his wounds from the L he caught from the courts.  This was a scheduled protest, largely white, they are just going to moon the tower because Trump can kiss their ass.  It’s a lively crowd, but I see this just some white people shit I carry on with my day.  But it highlighted what my issue has been with Dwight P Poe lately…They think this shit is funny still.  While late night hosts thank the lucky stars for the material (sup Colbert), this is still real life.  Trump threatened to send the national guard to Chicago, and I’m certain he wasn’t referring to the River North where we were.  Mooning a building isn’t doing anything and they know it. Yet there they was, “fighting” the power.

2/15/17 (Day 99)- It appears the news have now come around on the Trump clearly conspired with Russia thing.  The Russian connection has been a conflict for me, because yes fanning this flame will probably help get Edward Littlehands out of here but it also gives a pass to the white supremacy that got him elected in the first place.  The news can pretend #DemEmails are the reason Trump won, but I know better.  Meanwhile VP Mike Pence is demanding answers and keeping his nose clean so when the storm clouds come they’ll let him stay.  Race Bannon can’t be trusted.

2/20/17 (Day 104)- This President’s Day, because I’m a strong, independent citizen who don’t need no President,  I would like to take this time to recognize an actual great leader of our nation,  Happy Birthday Rihanna.

2/23/17 (Day 107)- The newly minted Attorney General, Jefferson Beauregard Sessions whose name just SOUNDS like slavery, is wasting no time living up to his name by rolling back President Obama’s private prison regulations.   This means more drug prosecutions, longer sentences, set your clocks back to 1983.  This isn’t even politically motivated, both Democrats and Republicans both want to cut the prison population, and Sessions just incentivized as many heads in beds as possible.  Obama vowed to make fighting mass incarceration his post Presidential legacy and this was a direct attack.  Is this going to bring him back?

2/28/17 (Day 112)- Cuuuupid….doesn’t liiiiie. (White readers y’all can google what I did there later).  So HBCU Presidents from all over the country went to meet with Mango Mousellini, because if there’s a chance to get some bread they going to take it, they grinders.  I got why they went, although I can’t help but look at them sideways because it’s like, have you seen him?  Historically speaking, HBCUs have always fared better under Republican presidents because they are all about keeping *us* away from *them*.  Trump signed an executive order, moving their objectives from the desk of the Betsy DeVos, who for reasons unknown to anyone decided to connect HBCUs to her “school choice” agenda,  onto his own, with no actual promise of funding.  Basically, they got played B.  They were better off scheduling their football team to get beat by 70 by Alabama, at least that’s a guaranteed check.
3/1/17 (Day 113)- So I watched the Joint Session address last night, or as I would call it #HateofTheUnion, and I was a little taken aback how comfortable he looked.  I simply forgot what these speeches are, board meetings.  Trump was in his element, he can spew off his alternative facts to large waves of applause.  People appear to be largely impressed, but that’s white mediocrity for you.  All he needed was an actual fitting suit and a teleprompter and suddenly people were ready to lay down their arms and accept the Great Pumpkin as their Commander-in-Chief. (Looking at you, Van Jones).  It goes to show, they don’t disagree with his policies, they just wish he’d stop being embarrassing.

To answer, 3 days.

3/4/17 (Day 114)- So remember how last week I mentioned how Jeff Sessions, the guy who was officially declared too racist to be a federal judge 30 years ago but managed to become the Attorney General and within days rolled back regulations to make private prisons great again?  Yeah…never mind all of that, HE TALKED TO RUSSIA AND LIED ABOUT IT *gasp*.  Once again, white people worried bout the wrong thing but if this is what it takes to get him out of here, so be it.  Meanwhile, Toupee Fiasco is throwing smoke bombs on Twitter, claiming Obama had his phones tapped and Arnold Schwarzenegger isn’t quitting the Apprentice he’s being fired.  Race Bannon still chilling waiting for all this to fall so he can swoop in like a work husband.  Don’t trust Race Bannon.

-Stan-

 

 

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Today’s Word is… HURTBAE

o-hurtbae-facebook

So the other day on Twitter, not long after the timeline was basking in the glow of Valentine’s Day, showing off gifts, boasting how they started with a DM now they here and whathaveyou I had noticed a video was going viral.  I largely ignored it at first because in an age of vine and snapchat, a 7 minute video is pretty much a Martin Scorsese film.  Eventually, I gave in and watched.  Broken, a video from TheScene.com or as the stweets would call it #HurtBae, featured an ex couple seeking closure, and by closure the woman, Kourtney asked her ex, Leonard how and why he cheated and he pretended to care and jedi mind tricked her into thinking the entire breakup was a mutual thing.  The video itself was moving, I suppose but it made me wonder…WHY DO WE BOTHER WITH CLOSURE?  #HurtBae and her ex don’t live in the same state, she supposedly has a new man, a good man, so why did she even volunteer for this?  There was nothing this inward was going to say that was going to change anything.  He attempted to guilt trip her about her about her insecurity and why she didn’t just leave if he was clearly ain’t shit.  (I really don’t want to call dude a sociopath because he is only like 23, but this dude might be a sociopath).

I’ve touched on this last year, closure doesn’t work because the other person clearly doesn’t care that much.  They didn’t care about your feelings when they had you, why would they when they don’t.  #HurtBae wanted him to care so bad, wanted him to see that he broke her, and his only emotion was mild inconvenience.  Even after the video has gone viral and he doesn’t regret how he came off, he is just annoyed black twitter still flaming him. He started off calling her his best friend but looked her dead in her face as she cried and didn’t even attempt to reach out and console her (cuz, sociopath).  Hell, I’ve confronted cheaters and still ended up being the one consoling them (cuz, sucker), it’s just…instinct. How do you just sit and let someone cry in front of you? Someone you care for?

 

Unbothered.

Then to the elephant in the room, why did you cheat?  The answer is the same for why anyone does anything they wasn’t supposed to do…they thought they could get away with it.  If I go into a store, the clerk is so engrossed with their phone they refuse to do their damn job and I just walk out with my stuff because clearly they don’t want my money.  Rationalized? Yes. Still wrong tho.  (*sips stolen water*).  Asking someone why did they cheat is giving them an excuse to blame you for being wrong.  Fuck all of that, B.  It doesn’t matter what reasons you have, you were wrong, you knew you were wrong and you thought you could get away with it, or in dude’s case he KNEW #HurtBae wasn’t about to do shit.

I don’t know if Broken is a one off or a series, I would hope the former because I don’t see how it’s productive.  Forgiveness is very overrated.  Sometimes it’s easier to be like, “you hurt me, so fuck you” and keep it moving.  It’s not bitter, it’s not resentment, why place the burden on yourself to make them see that they was wrong?  Whether ol boy grows and learns from this wasn’t going to happen based on that conversation.  When I was her age (oh shit, I’m old), I was driving myself mad trying to get someone I loved to just try and see things my way.  Now, I just chill and wait for karma (because it’s unethical to pray for things to happen to people).  Maybe one day she’s going to wake up and realize she became everything I hoped she wouldn’t, hell maybe she already has.  I wouldn’t know. Don’t care neither.  Treat it just like I treat a certain segment of our “great” nation, when they are still poor, uneducated, uninsured and realize their mans changed sold them tragic beans, I’ll be chilling.  For #HurtBae, when ol boy is in his 30s, losing his hair, getting dogged out by the woman he wants to do right by and scrolling her social media, he might then realize he slipped up.  Because that’s how closure actually works.

-Stan-

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