Musings of a Brotha on a Single Night.

If sex was money, I could live off the interest-aka the memories. The last thing I need is another “friend”. Anyone who knows me knows that I have no qualms about speaking openly about my sexual history. Many men–and women–will never admit to you that they’ve lost count; well, I lost count by the time I graduated high school. Some women have been put off by my number-or lack thereof- but I actually think its a plus. I am much less tempted by a big butt and nice rack as other males my age, because I’ve already had that. And at the end of the day, if there is no relationship, it is just a pleasant memory, a secretion after a good tug.

One of the most important things I have learned about myself over the last three years is that it doesn’t matter to me if a woman had a million dollars stuffed in her draws, I can’t fake affection and attraction. The one and only woman I’ve ever truly loved inside and out was a high school grad who braided hair for money and smoked trees as casually as one might a cigarette. She could box like a man and love like a Black Woman- endlessly. She was everything hood and good in life. And she was strong in every way that I was weak. Maybe I’ll find that again, maybe not. That doesn’t really matter to me, because I’ve always been my own best company, ever since I was a snot-nose.

The point is, I’ve been fortunate enough to come across all kinds of women in my short time with you earthlings: professional gals, ANTM’s, around-the-ways, moral runaways, and everyone in between. If I don’t like you, I can’t bring myself to like you. It sucks in the short term, because many a good woman have found themselves friendzoned after one of my 90-day reviews. I would much rather hurt her feelings up front than break her heart down the road.

But when I do fall, I fall hard.

And this presents a double-edged sword that I’ve personally sharpened with failed attempts at romance. It is a fact that the number of women I’ve dated are outnumbered 3-1 by the women who didn’t give me the time of day. See, I tend to go for the big fish, the best women I can find. She doesn’t have to look the best, but she does have to have one category in which she is without equal. I have to be able to admire something about this woman that, in turn, feeds my ego. What no one told me was that many women also like who they like and can’t be persuaded to think otherwise. We males have this collective idea of ourselves as being able to turn the hearts and minds of any woman, with the right amount of effort. Sheeiiiiiit. If she doesn’t CHOOSE you, you’ll be lucky to get a light, much less a phone number.

I never took it personal, never stayed down too long after denial, because after all, I’m Jontae Muthafuckin Grace. No hard feelings, you win some and lose some. I actually thanked them for showing me what I was attracted to. By giving me nothing, they still gave me something.

The only thing i wanted to say from this long stream of consciousness is that you can’t make someone like you. No one knows this better than I. But if you like somebody, are interested in them, or simply want to get to know them better, let them know. Too many people have missed the boat due to indecision, and too many people have settled because they didn’t want to approach the one they had eyes for. That ‘friend’ ish is worthless. You’re either boning, building, or both. Love does not compromise, and the worst thing she or he can say, is no.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going fishing.

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One Comment Add yours

  1. Elizabeth says:

    this was really good and insightful, keep writing.
    And no one said you had to do thing conventionally…get out the box .

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