New Stuff!

Cassandra was truly a poor man’s dream and rich man’s wish. Pretty toes, pretty hands, a body sculpted by God and a face that one would never tire of seeing. I imagine she spent hours walking with a book on her head, because she had the sexiest sashay. It was as smooth and effortless as her beauty. Most men would swear monogamy and all the other silly things that men say and do to remove the clothes from a woman. Cassandra would be that woman that seemed to be unobtainable. And when one did get her, he would not desire any other woman.
Sir was cool as hell. Yeah, he name was Sir. Smart, spoiled and selective. He wasn’t the best looking guy and he wasn’t an athlete. But he was desired by a many girls. He knew how to talk to the girls and he dressed well. After all, his dad was the biggest preacher in the city. If nothing else, dude could talk.
The second semester of the senior year brought Cassandra and Sir together. It was obvious that they were happy. They made plans to attend college together, marry and of course, they’d spoken of how many children they wanted. Each family embraced the idea of the two being together. A match made in heaven.
As the days progressed Cassandra’s appearance began to change. She was still pretty, but she didn’t seem to care and girls that she normally ignored were now having chit chat sessions with a different Cassandra. As for Sir – he was the man. He continued doing his thang. He was maturing, so to speak and experimenting. Sir spent less time with Cassandra and more time testing the waters. Cassandra was devastated. How could any man cheat on someone so beautiful, so fine? What did she do wrong? What did she not do? Why do women think that the betrayal is their fault?
Firstly, all men do not cheat. But when they do it is normally because they wish to avoid being tied down, they fear commitment, they want to maintain the youthful fire, and surely they want to hide their emotions. The idea of new sex with a new woman in a new place excites a man. If sneaking is involved, the sex is even hotter. This doesn’t last forever, but for the most part this is it. Oh, and secondly – some men wish to avoid conflict and having a woman depend on them. Undoubtedly, some women bring more baggage and drama than most men want to handle. So, women can stop blaming themselves until they become better psychoanalysts, more improved shoppers and stop their cheating as well. Hell yeah, women cheat!

For the Love of Amerika

When I was a kid… I recited the pledge of allegiance as if it was written for me. Hell, it was, seemingly, the right thing to do. As I began to age, the pledge and the Lord’s Prayer carried less of a priority as I began to scrutinize their significance. Of course, I had learned of court cases, viewed footage of dogs attacking people who looked like me, read of marches and bombings, feared dudes in white sheets, dreamt of being a firefighter, imagined myself scoring a touchdown for the Dallas Cowboys and eaten hotdogs like they’d make me stronger. Yeah, I did some Amerikan stuff. Ironically, Amerika never noticed me. Not the essence of who I am. Because Amerika and Justice were never blind. I had been raised to appreciate oppression, suppression, and aggression. Strange, it is, that I had been brainwashed to accept abuse. Had I given it any thought - I would have never believed that loving Amerika was necessary, because I realized that Amerika didn’t love me the way she loved those recognized as Amerikans. After all, they were her children.
Now - I am different. I have been in the bowels of Amerika. I have given service to Amerika. I have allowed Amerika to miseducate me. I have given almost half of my earnings to Amerika. I have shown much love to Amerika. Amerika has overlooked my sacrifices and abused me verbally and physically. I have been her scapegoat. I have been the burden of her lover. To think that I have endured any hell that Amerika has offered me is reason enough to not love Amerika. Am I attracted to someone who doesn’t love me?
Yeah, I am here in Amerika. And truly, I could be anywhere other than here. My love and loyalty could wander. I assume that Amerika doesn’t love me. Damn! Why did it take so long for me to realize that she is nothing like my mother? Amerika is never satisfied. I just can’t do enough. Why am I confused when Mother Afrika taught me so much? I guess compassion blinded me. I will not mistreat Amerika, but she must know that I love Afrika - unlike I could ever love her.

What Do Women Really Want?

Here we go, again! I live in Atlanta – Black Hollywood, so to speak. It’s normal to hear women, calling in to radio stations, complaining about the lack of heterosexual, Black men. Naturally, Atlanta has its share of straight brothas. Let’s be real! Not every brotha is bi-sexual, gay, on the down low or a homo thug. Moreover, not every brotha has got game. Some exercise truth, reciprocity, peace, righteousness… the real stuff. There are some serious, single, educated, focused, determined brothas looking for a woman who hasn’t been corrupted by soap opera images or media chosen hunks. Mind you, just as every brotha is not gay, not every sista is hot or desirable. Yeah, Atlanta has a plethora of women by numbers and appearance, but once one applies the methods of choosing a woman the way that women choose men, we learn that a many women are just as disqualified as the brothas they are conditioned to berate.
What do women really want? Is it financial security? And if so, why do they seek out a thug type when the man who sacrifices and provides falls short in bed? Why must men step it up when women seem to perfect lying (about anything), feigning (about feelings), reserving (emotions), and saving the best of themselves for the lottery guy she has been convinced to believe will appear. Sadly, the guy she chooses - is what she deserves at that time.
Yeah, I’m listening. Speak up!