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Sunday, December 19, 2010


Just being introspective tonight

having just ended a good outing with a new friend

a new friend who seems to be of high standard

one of those types that really make you sit back and take note of where YOU fall short


Wow. I really need to step MY game up in a few areas

areas that they at least seem to be much stronger in

areas that you value and want to improve yourself in

...humbling experience...

yet frustrating in a sense that

well, honestly...

you're attracted to them

and these qualities,

though at this early stage in the friendship are merely a first impression,

really make pursuing them seem like a daunting task...

you're gonna have to really be ready for that caliber of person

you can't be all lukewarm, so-so, nonchalant...

just kinda going with the flow in certain areas

They say they're intimidated by strong women

I say 'sure', some are

but this isn't quite the same...

I'm actually attracted to this one even more

I just have to do a little homework on myself,

a little self-inventory and assessment

...This is all really tiring

and oft times doesn't end quite like you want it to...

Sunday, September 19, 2010

Can't Have Both

So I went to a cook-out this past summer.

There was great food cooked by the host’s girlfriend…who was Jamaican…
a few drinks *wink*…
good music…
and yes, a shortage of men and an abundance of women. *smile*

I expected nothing less from the host as he and his brother are consistent with the above-par quality of this annual event.

I went solo this year. Most of my friends were either working, bunned up, or just M.I.A. Plus, I just wanted to chill and do me for a change.

The cook-out started around 2:30pm. I got off of work around 3:30pm… got home around 4:30pm… got dressed… and went straight to the function around 5:30pm. In the past, arriving at one of these guy’s cookouts ‘on time’ was futile. The food wouldn’t be ready until 2 hours later, and folks (women) don’t really start to show until dusk anyway. So this year, my 5:30pm arrival time was actually the result of careful mitigation. The food was fresh, the drinks had barely been tapped, and the femalian species had just begun to trickle in. *schemingly rubbing hands together*

I was sitting at an empty spades table eating jerk chicken when, before I knew it, all three empty chairs were full with femalian specimens.

It was just me, them....and this jerk chicken.

Most guys have a P.F.S. Unit (Preferential Femalian Scanner Unit) internally installed prior to their birth. This unit is activated automatically during puberty and remains operational in various degrees until death. Its primary function is to develop and refine unique, desirable parameters regarding the femalian species and to screen such specimens against those parameters. Should the encountered specimen(s) meet those parameters, the P.F.S. Unit returns positive results to the male’s psyche and he is subsequently attracted to the specimen(s) in question; otherwise, the results are negative and the male is unmoved by their presence.

Needless to say, mine was implemented while eating my jerk chicken.

I sat quietly as the femalian counterparts laughed and conversed around me. Eventually, and almost expectantly, a comment was made amongst them that pertained to me. The culprit jokingly referred to me as a pimp since I was one solitary guy at a table full of women. *chuckle* Her comment was taken lightly. She was reasonably cute, too. However, since my P.F.S. unit had already returned less-than-desirable readings pertaining to these otherwise reasonably attractive femalians, I opted not to capitalize on the clear attempt to break the ice. I was cordial, of course, but I didn’t offer anything beyond a validating chuckle and smile. *continuing to eat my jerk chicken*

Suddenly, two new members of the femalian species arrived. I received positive reading from my P.F.S. unit and decided to migrate away from where I was sitting. I was full, so to seize more food was useless. …but these pecan brownie thingies that were not present during my prior acquisition of jerk chicken had caught my attention. I partook. Now I needed a new place to sit and enjoy these sweet morsels of wonderfulness; so I ventured indoors.

Ah, perfect!
There was a dining room table inside which was also where those two new femalian specimens had planted themselves. Recognizing the favorable circumstances, I capitalized on the opportunity to be social and investigate the positive readings I had received from my P.F.S. unit.

Both specimens had natural hair…locs to be exact. One possessed a caramel outer shell as the other was encased in a much darker chocolate wrapping. Their demeanor was inviting and welcoming. So I sat down while administering relevant humor to break the ice.

The ice broke with ease.

There were two other fellow Mars inhabitants at the table who were already engaged in dialogue with the femalians, but my B.D.U. (Blockage Detector Unit) did not detect hatage (‘hate’idge) or any other form of gatery (‘gate’er’E) so I was clear to dig. I proceeded to ask for the names of the femalians and their place of origin. There was an amicable exchange between the fellow Martians, the femalians, and myself. Eventually, my P.F.S. unit began to return more positive readings that pertained to only one of the femalian specimens instead of both. Naturally, then, my attention began to settle upon her.
As it turned out, she was fasting with the intent to cleanse her body from prior days of what she considered to be an ‘improper diet’. She was striving to be a ‘pescetarian’ as she avoided most meats except fish and crustaceans. She stayed fit and pretty much considered her health to be a priority. My P.F.S.U continued to return highly favorable results as I continued to entertain this chocolate one. In between words and laughter, I observed this specimen’s appearance and structural qualities…the aesthetic composition of her garments…and even recalled the harmonious movements of her frame when she walked - caused by the high-heeled wedges that encased her feet. *green L.E.D. light continues to flash on my P.F.S.U.*

Consciously, I ushered the conversation between myself and the Chocolate One across the plane of ‘negotiables’ and ‘non-negotiables’ …checking to see just how compatible she could be for a deeper friendship and, perhaps, an exclusive companion. So far, this femalian faired well. Soon, I found the golden opportunity to assess her spiritual background and beliefs. ...a joke about church…or perhaps a casual mention of “god” was all I needed as a segway into a discussion of spiritual allegiance.

I went first, weaving mention of my faith in Christ into a response to one of her comments. I noticed a change in the femalian’s demeanor. It was the first perceived sign of apprehension from this young specimen. My P.F.S.U. paused and immediately displayed “Calculating” on its LCD screen. Through further inquisition it became increasingly evident that she did not view Jesus Christ in the same way that I did. In fact, to the Chocolate One, Jesus was in mere comparison to other ‘great men’ of influence – like Muhammad, Gandhi, Buddha, and so forth. She began to divulge in her past research and historical findings concerning the fallacies of the church as we know it today… expressing her distaste of the debauchery of pre-Revolutionary European settlers as they used Christianity to manipulate and enslave those that they sought to conquer and control. Apparently, to the ultimate view of this Hershey femalian, the perceived deity of Jesus was a concocted overture developed through centuries of misinterpretation…more or less. Oh yes, and not to forget that Jesus was indeed Black.
ALAS! She did believe in God. But Christ? No. He was a mere prophet to be esteemed no higher than Muhammad or any other one of “society’s greatest humanitarian martyrs”.

*”Calculating” disappears from the screen of P.F.S.U. as “Denied” appears accompanied by a steady red L.E.D. light*

Interestingly enough, the femalian expressed full intent to ‘submit’ to her future husband much like a ‘Christian’ wife is traditionally expected to. She revealed her ‘old school’ ideology and made it known that she wouldn’t stand in the way if her husband, should he be a Christian, opted to involve their children into his church. I found it interesting, too, that this femalian was raised in the church, currently loved gospel music and the activities of church itself…but yet hardly attended and saw no reason to praise Jesus as Lord. She wanted a man with an ‘open mind’, and apparently, the femalian was disappointed with the narrow opening of mine.

My P.F.S.U. began to emit ‘minus’ symbols as the Chocolate One and I progressed in our conversation. And although the femalian specimen was of the utmost appeal, I was critically disappointed that we, had we ever united as a couple, would not be able to share in the worship Jesus Christ. He would only be my Savior, not hers.

At this point, the results from my P.F.S.U. had fully negated any prior findings regarding the Chocolate One. This femalian was ‘badd’, but my loyalty to Christ was paramount. Until the advent of spiritual matters and beliefs in our conversation, she was more than eligible. Unfortunately, though, the conclusion of our conversation returned me back to the ever-credible notion that the discovery a femalian with such beautiful and natural attributes, a high regard for health and fitness, AND demonstrative faith in Christ is rare to impossible.
Unfortunately, in my experience, one can only expect to find a woman on either side of the spectrum…not both. On one end, you get the modern day Angela Davis/Friday Foster with body oil that smells of ancient Frankincense and 3 Kings…. Or you get a Barbie doll with a lifestyle more aligned with Proverbs 31 and a Bible bookmarked in the Gospel of John. The afro-puff and fist-pumping specimen pays homage to many religions and loves “god” (which is seems to always be up for interpretation). The Revlon-clad dime, reminiscent of a Beyonce-gone-good, loves Christ and has been ‘successfully single‘ since she graduated college in 2003. One has the practical qualities I like while the other loves the Christ I love. It’s as if a woman who fits my preferences AND my faith doesn’t exist. Thus, I am often faced with the dilemma…

Do I abandon my desire for a femalian specimen with ‘natural essence’ and accept the many other eligible Christian femalians as viable mates? Or, do I hold on and stay true to one my strong preferences for someone who not only loves Jesus as their Lord and Savior, but who also embraces her natural beauty – inside and out (regardless of her ethnicity)?

Are my preferences reasonable?
Are they realistic?
I’m starting to wonder. *”Recalibrating” flashes across P.F.S.U. screen*

Sunday, August 29, 2010

untitled (written at age 27)

It's Friday
but it feels like another day
adulthood comes wit more work
less time for play
had a nostalgic 7 days before today
seen old faces wit new bodies
chicks I used to dig back when NAS was rappin wit Foxy
I reminisce
decades past I miss
Dont know why
must've been the freedom of ignorance
during adolescence we wanted to be grown
now its time to save money to move out on my own
from landlines to cell phones
I've changed over that past couple
I can be in a room full of faces yet I still feel alone
But not then,
I was livin then
True, I got more friends now than I had back when
but it was just easier pushin dad's van
only worries was gettin homework done and your wardrobe had to be in
shape-ups were 5 even, 6 if he was good
chicks was sweatin the dude in the Aja Imani jacket wit the glitter on the hood
The simple life
no bills except lunch meals
even had a pager if you was that nice
Shawty wit the dimples look nice
Couldn't wait to rock the fresh Top Flight
in first period she sure to look twice
It was Usher before Chris Brown
Ginuwine was So Anxious and Mary was singin' My Life My Life My Life...

it was sunshine,
but now it's real life, steady on the grind
slim margin for mistakes
false move and you flatline
just one time
You can lay down but you won't fly
Too old for moms to dry your eye
Taller than pops now so now you gotta reach the sky
make the moves and figure out why.

Time used to stand still
still wish it were more like yesterday though
but I guess this is how growin up feels...

Wednesday, July 21, 2010

A Week Later...

It's been a week...

...okay, maybe just 5 days...

...but it might as well have been SEVEN days...

...since your phone has RANG, BLINGED, CHIRPED, DINGED, [insert that little polite iPhone *pop*], or DROIDed with so much as a text message from that person you thought had so much potential to be 'the ONE'.

I mean, c'mon... that last date - which was also the FIRST date - was SO *pause for emphasis* GOOD!

You both laughed, joked, exchanged a couple playful shoves and pokes, shared opinions and talked about 'stuff'...

...things just really seemed to flow!

(Uh oh... that word! 'FLOW'! You know what happens when you hang out with someone new and everything really just kinda 'flows'...)

So what happened?!?

[actual word]--> You'da thought that they would've hit you up to say "hey", "how are you", or at least a :-).

But no... and it's been 5 days without any followup.

*cue all insecurities, self-consciousness, and anxiety...mmmmmmNOW!*

By now, this is when all the second guesses and worries come into play.

This is where you try to recollect any pivotal oversights and missteps you may have committed at any time during the date: whether or not you kept a fresh Altoid in your mouth after lunch at Ben's Chili Bowl...

...did they smell that fart you accidentally let escape before those Beano tablets kicked in?...

...that joke you told that wasn't funny... how UNfunny did they really think it was? Was it THAT bad?...

...were they offended when you decided to text message your friend(s) to tell them about the date you were currently on while consequently neglecting the very date you were currently on?

So many possibilities.

So many questions.

"What did I do," you ask yourself.

"Or...what didn't I do," you reply as you realize that you really have NO idea why your potential bun is M.I.A.

*cue feelings of vulnerability and the onset lapse of sound judgment and pride*

There is only one way to find out...

...ONE way to be sure...

*sudden dramatic orchestral hit*

...ONE WAY to quench your ever-growing thirst to know 'WHY'...

*orchestral crescendo followed by sudden cinematically brilliant silence*

...WHY didn't they hit me up by now!?!

*close-up of silent, lifeless cell phone as its little green LED light flashes indicating that voicemail from mom*

Admit it. You don't want to hear from mom right now.

You want to hear from [insert potential bun's name]!

....So what do you do?

What else!?...

*quiet, peaceful shot of your silent cell phone suddenly interrupted by your sweaty hand swooping in and seizing it into your eager grasp*

You send a text message! know, because your pride won't let you give in and flat out CALL them, right? I mean, whatchu look like callin' them like YOU pressed? You know?

[finger typing]

YOU: "Hey! Jus sayin Hi. I jus wanted 2 c how u were doin. [insert witty reference to a joke you two shared during the date]

*camera shot of your thumb pressing SEND with high expectations of their reply*





Unlike the text messages leading up to the first date, there's no immediate reply.

Five minutes turn into ten minutes as anxiety and impatience begin to erode your pride and sanity once more. You try to act nonchalant and 'aloof' by leaving your phone on the other side of the room as you surf the internet and partake of other 'more important things'. *cough*facebook*cough*


Suddenly, the silence is broken by the ever-so-familiar sound from across the room...



Every pathetic charade of indifference you achingly had going for the past 26 minutes is immediately obliterated as you clear every bit of the 3 yards between you and your phone in a single, clumsy bound.

*desk chair falls over as your knee subsequently hits the corner of the nightstand where the cell phone rests*

To finally see **New Message** on the cell phone screen is like coming downstairs Christmas Day to find a room full of gifts.

You eagerly press the right buttons to access the new text message from...

...your co-worker?!? *womp*womp*

There couldn't have been a worse time to get a text message from some colleague at work asking about something work related. Nevertheless, as the rush of excitement deflates into an empty bag of disappointment, you reply to your co-worker's untimely inquiry and put the phone right back where it was before you leaped across the room like a gazelle on PCP <-- wow, picture that.


At this point, twenty minutes have passed and Facebook has lost its lure. Your FB "friends" statuses are becoming stupid and brainless, you've just ignored a Friend Request from some guy who's shirtless in his profile pic and has only 2 mutual friends out of the 948 that you have, you keep getting event invites to places and functions you have ABSOLUTELY no interest in attending - nor do you even know who the person is who 'invited' you - aaaannnnnd you've gone through that potential bun's photo albums three times already.



Okay, so it's been about an hour since you've sent that text message and the notion to actually call the person has crossed your mind several times by now. This time, however, your rekindled feelings of desperation begin to make such a task sound quite viable and tempting.


One hour and 15 seconds later, you're holding your phone in your hand as you navigate through your Contacts folder...

*cue the sudden sensation of butterflies and insecurities sparked by the thought of how pressed it would look if you called after sending a text message they didn't even reply to yet*

You swallow that last ounce of pride you had left as you press the call button...






*WALE "pretty girls" ring-back tone*

...*"Hello, you have been transferred to the voicemail box of [potential bun's voice saying their name]. At the tone, please state your message.....[BOOP]*

"Transferred???," you think to yourself. "I transfer people to my voicemail when I don't want to talk to them...."


The last thing you want to do is leave a voicemail.

Who DOES that??!?

...So you hang up the phone and enter yet another pathetic round of self-consciousness.

By now, you've exhausted all reasonable attempts to contact that person. And, because of the 'tragic' course of events that have taken place over the past hour and... *checking watch* ....five minutes, you've become a little salty....

...salty enough to vow that you will never call or text message that person again!

...salty enough to de-friend them on Facebook!!

...salty enough to erase their phone number and email address from your Contacts list!!!...because afterall, they couldn't even hit you up for a whole week!

And!....AND!....they didn't want to respond to your text messages or answer the phone when you called...let alone having the audacity to 'transfer' you to voicemail.

You release a symbolic sigh as you delete every last bit of evident correspondence between you and the now un-potential bun out of your phone.


...because THIS signifies a new dawn....

*symbolic sunrise casting fresh morning light upon your face as you look towards the blossoming horizon with a new sense of pride and prospect*

...a new day where I will no longer look to the past, but will now focus on the light of the future! Those who bring negative energy into my realm will be left behind! Only those with positive energy and good vibes will I now surround myself with! #thatisall

*clicking the SHARE button, making that your new Facebook status until further notice*


Proud of yourself, you then decide to LIKE your own status post as you re-read it several times as if it wasn't you who wrote it. But then you notice something in the News Feed section...

[insert un-potential bun's name] and 11 others have just updated their profile pic!



[insert un-potential bun's name] has just uploaded 15 new photos into Vacation Getaway to Jamaica 2010 album.

"Jamaica?," you question to yourself out loud.

Your mind starts to shuffle as you delve deep into Vacation Getaway to Jamaica 2010. Your quest shifts back and forth from trying to figure out when this Jamaican getaway took place... and salivating over how that un-potential bun looks with less than 15% of their body covered.

*a new NOTIFICATION pops up*

[insert un-potential bun's last name] has just updated their status.


"...gettin it in at JAM-ROCK sippin 'experienced' pina coladas!" posted about a minute ago.

Your mind can't help but leniently attribute their lack of communication over the past week to their being on vacation.

They're OUT OF THE COUNTRY, right? Cut them some slack! Yes?

Oh, but of course you do.


The bright young sun rising to symbolize the advent of your new day and ever-so-poignant philosophy of progressive relationship-building slows to a stop. And by the third cycle of clicking through 15 vivid photos of your long lost potential fling, it begins to gradually roll right back into the east horizon from which it rose.

Now you're leaving comments and compliments throughout their photo album...


"How come you ain't invite me?"




*a new NOTIFICATION pops up*

[insert back-to-being-potential bun's last name] has commented on their photo.

[insert potential bun's last name] has commented on their photo.

[insert potential bun's last name] has commented on their photo.

*cue instant heart rate increase and widening eyes*

FINALLY... a response! Nevermind why they didn't respond when you sent that text message or made that phone call. The point is that they did it now! waste NO time at finding out what they said...


"Thanks. :)"

"Lol. I know right? Its just me and my family, tho. We're staying with my cousins in Kingston."

"You know how I do. LoL ;-)"


*cue feelings of satisfaction and quasi-bliss caused by the brief cyber-interaction between you and your potential bun*




It had been a week of silence.

Sure. Maybe a week is short for some...

...but for you?

No! A good date should never be followed by more than 3 days days without so much as even a single text message.

Even a Facebook message would've sufficed!


Alas... the past is the past. And now, you've got not one... but THREE Facebook comments from your potential bun that were directed especially at you.

*sigh of contentment as the sensation of mushy warmth fills your inner being*

You feel liberated!

Your longing thirst for correspondence has been quenched and should sustain you for at least the next 3-5 days...which would be about the time you should begin to experience withdrawal symptoms again.

Finally, you can focus on other important matters like what you and your potential bun will do on the next date.


*cue thoughts of jerk chicken, plantains and ginger beer*