Protecting Yourself From Being Hurt…

Hello class!  By a show of hands, who’s been in love before?  Now as a result of loving, who’s been hurt before?  “I see you, I see you, I see you (in my best preacher voice as he counts those lining up for special prayer)..”  You know why you got hurt?!  No, I don’t either.  Let’s just say it was life… LIFE HAPPENS.  Life has happened, and it will continue to..  On planet Earth where I kick it at, a bad break every once in a while just comes with the ropes.   Now how you respond to those bad breaks is what separates you from potential happiness in the future..  And theres really about only one response to this..  GET OVER IT!!!!!!!  If you’re going to date, and be involved with others you have to increase your skins thickness (what I like to call emotional stamina)..  If you can’t deal with the good and the bad (which are virtual certainties) then dating and all that may come with it just isn’t for you.  At least right now.  Love can provide you with the best feeling ever, or you might feel like you’ve been chin checked by an uppercut by a Cleveland bus driver!  Gives me chills just thinking about it… 

After being affected by the virus of heartbreak of sweet love gone sour, many people (myself included at one point) see this as an opportunity to now find a way excuse to protect themselves from this ever happening again.  Never having to feel the hurt after giving so much of yourself.  Simple equation right?!  You don’t feel = You don’t get hurt..  But it’s not that simple.  The feeling of hurt and heartache can only be experienced once you’ve allowed yourself to be emotionally accessible (vulnerable some might say) to the cool side of the pillow that love can bring.  But you can’t have both!  By all means… Don’t be ANYBODIES fool, but if you think you can’t co-exist with this person without guard, simply based on how bad it COULD BE if you love openly and honestly, then a relationship for you at this time just isn’t in the cards (with that person at least)…

In the end..  Loving  someone hard, a little, or even not at all has little to no bearing on how the recepient chooses to value it. Going in half assed in a relationship doesn’t protect you from possible hurt, because you haven’t offered anything that needs protecting (effort, trust, loyalty, understanding, commitment, etc.) But..  It can prevent the very thing you’ve searching for in the first place.  Love….

Love & Basketball (Not the movie): Relationships 4th Quarter

I love March.  I get nonstop NBA as well as NCAA basketball all month.  The professional games don’t exactly matter as much right now, but the college teams are out there playing for the respect of their schools name and the teams tournament hopes.  You see the hunger, the fight, the determination, to just survive.  Day in, day out.  Game in, game out.  It’s a beautiful time of year for any hoops fan…  But if there is one parallel that I find in both NBA and college basketball, is that you see what the team is made of when they’re losing and the game is out of hand. They start playing with such precision and technicality when they see the game and possibly their season slipping away.  (Be patient ladies I promise I’m going to get to the relationship part..)  It’s a nail biter and at this point it could go either way, but for the team who’s battling from behind, all I can say to myself is, “why did you wait until the game was nearly close to an end or nearly out of hand to start doing the small things you SHOULD’VE been doing all along?!” But this is where I find the parallel as it pertains to love and relationships…

In a relationship, you were always playing with the same team (yourself) and you always had the same opponent (not that your significant other is an enemy).  For the most part you’ve had the same capabilities, characteristics, and opportunities in a relationship to be the best YOU for that person..  As in a basketball game you’ve had the same skill set, strengths, and abilities to come out with a win.  So why should it take for the game to wind down to settle down and get your head in the game?  It’s down to the wire, and at the thought of losing… YOU PANIC!!!  At this point in a relationship you use very specific and strategic moves to keep their attention.  To win their respect again and give it one last try.  Often amazed by these new moves, the person who you’re trying to make amends with is thinking “where was all this when you should’ve been doing it all along fool?!!“  Just like coach..  When it was needed? And they’re exactly right! Where was the hustle effort before?

Long story short.  It shouldn’t have to come down to half court buzzer beater or last second heroics to save the relationship.  Now I understand that desperate times may call for desperate measures, and sometimes you don’t know just how much was on the line, and unfortunately it takes seeing things slip away to realize that going out and “winging it” isn’t always the best.  A game plan was needed.  Why?  Because no matter how confident in your abilities, there’s another team on the court that may be too advanced for what you take for granted is “enough” to win.  If you’re going to be in the game, give your all.  Even when you’re tired.  Study your opponent, give your all, and if you come up with a game plan from the beginning, you might not ever have to use the half court shot to get you into overtime..  Now get out there and play!

Power of ***** : “N-BOMB” that is….

There is so much controversy over a topic that I see should be cut and dry…. Usage of the N word. I understand that if you hear something on film or in a song as being used as a term of endearment (e.g. homie, lover, friend) that it’s only but natural to accept it as ok. But this particular word (both “gga” and “gger”) is sooooo much more controversial that even some Black people don’t like to be referred to by it because of it’s historical value. WE even categorize others as being a *n bomb* based on their actions…. A few years back I believe the NAACP wanted to abolish the word. I personally don’t want to see it abolished. We don’t have much to call our own in this country, let us have that AT LEAST! I’m going to look at your intent on the usage of the word. And as backwards as it may be, I can only accept it from another Black person. And in all fairness, if a word is acceptable by one, it should be acceptable by all. So I understand why it’s a double standard. But!!! The question that comes to my mind is…. Knowing the negative social consequences, the power that the word holds, and the possibility to be labeled as a racist that comes from it’s usage, “if you aren’t Black why do you want to be able to say it?”

I like to compare the N bomb to the word bitch… Historically (and in a literal sense) it’s used to define a female dog. At some point in time it started being used in a negative connotation towards women. Some women use it amongst each other with their close and personal female friends (parallel). While there are some females who don’t want it to be used towards them by their female friends no matter if it was being used as a term of endearment (parallel). But almost every man knows that he cannot use the word towards a female without the expectation of negative back lash, whether it be a frown from the woman, or the proactive approach of her going to get her brother on you…. But because we (men) aren’t a part of that population, NEVER question “why can’t I use it, you use it all the time?”

Like I said, I can understand the plight of someone who isn’t African American if it’s around you in mass media all the time. Some of your favorite song lyrics might contain the word, and in that small arena I don’t think that artist would have a problem with you using it if your purposes are to recite the song lyrics for your appreciation of the music… I can understand if a child doesn’t know better because, because I can truly see it being “just another word”… But once you’ve lived for a while you recognize what’s ok and what’s not, so why even push the bar? If it’s to fit in, stop it all together. If your objective is to disrespect, then you already know what time it is. It’s just not very safe. Regardless of the way you used it, there are some rank and file Black people who will react first and question your motives later, because they feel STRONGLY about someone who isn’t part of the group using the word. But I digress…. My2Cents

Ms. Linda Olivia Valerie Ellis

I didn’t know she truly existed, because I had only heard of her in passing. Mythical almost. Strong yet gentle. Sweet, but the biggest bitch you’d ever know. Intoxicating. Dangerous. A live wire. Unpredictable. I was told to avoid her at all costs. She hurt so many of my friends and loved ones that it would make me a traitor to become acquainted. Crazy me. Even with warning I had to experience her for myself. How could a woman that was in such high demand be avoided like the plague by so many? But at this point I decided that no matter her bad side, I planned to plant my flag at her peak. Playing for keeps regardless of the bad name people give her on the street. Simply put, I’m whipped at the thought of her. In retrospect did i even have a choice? Her initials say it all. Ms. Linda Olivia Valerie Ellis…

Heat Index

 

1 pulse, 2 hearts.  A fire is kindled.  Giving me fever that would boil a thermometers mercury.  A blazing inferno.  Burning lungs and cotton mouths.  Even opened flood gates can’t satisfy the dual thirst.  Sincere love making, yet lustful just for good measure.  An artistic interpretation of love in the flesh.  Two lovers in their flesh.  A tapestry of intertwined limbs and finger tips.  Contorted bodies mimicking Egyptian hieroglyphics.  Tears of joy escaping mascara filled eye lids leaving traces across cheek bones before falling upon 1,000 count sheets at the zenith of volcanic overflow.  The creation of an unparalleled image of bliss.  Surely to be the source of future distracting daytime memories.

Emergency Room

An open wound. Breathless. Collapsed lung.  EKG was given. Results yielded a nonexistent heartbeat.  I was toxic. Sulking in my hospital bed of nails in the ICU as result of sweet love gone sour.  But there you were, in the waiting room…  Sitting there patiently.  Brave.  Giving me friendship at a time that I could’ve been harmful to you.  Yet you took advantage of those visiting hours.  Volunteering daily.  Injecting me with truth serum, wisdom, and encouraging words.   I was fully covered in the insurance you gave me that I was in good hands.   Health began to upgrade from critical to serious, to healed…   Revived by the grace of God. Pulse steady.  Heartbeat strong. Stepping back out on faith. Exiting the ICU, and I see you.  Still in the waiting room.  No longer in need of a heart monitor.  Just your fingers on my wrists.   Guiding me.  Showing me the doors out of the infirmary and onto the path of good health.  Where it feels great to take a step into a positive direction, where we walk out of that same waiting room, hand in hand.  Together…

I Don’t Wanna Be a Playa No More: The True Response The Players Circle…

“I’m not a playa, I just crush alot…”  Probably one of the most well known responses a guy gives after receiving props for his level of machismo with the ladies, but still maintaining his level of cool/humble.  No woman wants a man that other women don’t already want (so the ladies say anyway), so it’s only but natural that men internalize that and try to become the most desirable lion in the jungle possible by beating down the most “noncie” (a colloquialism for “vagina” coined by writer @Diggame of Ashy2Classy.net) that can be found in the concrete jungle.  Amongst these secret societies of players found in every city, guys just recognize who has a plethora of women.  You don’t even have to necessarily know these guys, but you just recognize that he has women, he’s going to get women, and damnit, he’s cool!  You can hang out for years in small cities such as St. Louis and just sorta get to know guys on a “aw wassup playa, I see you..” type basis.  All because you recognize he’s got it.  You don’t even know what “it” is, but you know he’s got it.  And men respect it.  No secret initiations take place, no handshake are taught, no ceremonial punch is chugged, but you recognize who belongs…  Just from this respect of an “underworld association” if you will, bonds are formed and possibly even friendships.  Ladies I know what you’re saying:  That’s childish!  That’s completely irrational!  That’s stupid!  And guess what?!  You’re completely right!  But since it’s not senseless acts of violence, no one is being harmed, and it brings people together, it’s not going anywhere!  But moving on…

One day a guy from the groups of players, macks, ladies men, hoes, etc., decides to settle down and have what they all really want at the end of the day:  That George and Weezy, Martin and Gina, Lucy and Ricky, Cliff and Clair type thing…  He’s found his piece to the puzzle, his rib, his better half, and says to himself “I’m done with ripping and running the streets, I’m going to settle down..”  He’s ready to be in a committed relationship.  And when he runs into these comrades who are deep into the game, they greet with the normal half hug-handshake-double fist pound to the back combo that he’s breaking away from the pack (status wise).  So he calls the boys, and says “Hey ya’ll, we together now, but she aint like the others, I’m serious about her..  She might be the one..”  And ironically, the response that’s given by this group of men that seemingly have no morals, disrespect women by seeing them as only another notch in their belt loop, not treating them all as queens (although there aren’t any queens and princesses with the last name Thomas, Jackson, Williams, etc., to my knowledge but that’s another topic) don’t deserve happiness, and are responsible for turning all good girls bad?!!  They look up and say “aw that’s wassup pimp, I’m happy for you!!!  I can’t wait until I find something like you..”  It’s a moment of solidarity that that all men have on the way back from the sweaty shake your butt club, or whatever scene the night has to offer.  From the first college party they ever attended, to the now post graduate college scene that’s fading into the “old men and women at the bar” criticizing the younger 22 year olds attire.  We all want that women we can associate with our favorite R&B song from the New Jack Swing era.  Our very own “Forever My Lady”, or our very own “Piece of My Love”…

It’s just a really good time in life. You’re happy, your knew tender is happy, the fellas are happy for you, and even your past flames girlfriends discreetly congratulate you on your new found happiness…  And who’s the most emotional?  The players are.  No tears are shed per se, but that might be the most open or sincere you’ve ever seen them.  Co-signing what you already thought was the right move.  That moment of clarity that takes place is a staple in the career (or era of being a supreme ladies magnet) that all men from that group go through.  Almost a right of passage.  Drinks are bought, toasts are given, and they leave you with a few words of “advice”.  Reminiscing on all the bar hopping done over the years, and how good you’ve really done based on how many women hate you (a badge of honor in this underworld).  But before you jump out the window, they let you know that you can always come back to the flock, but until then spread your wings and fly away… lol  My2Cents