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Posts Tagged ‘love’

Dear Young World,

In all of the years I was under my parent’s roof, they only asked me what I wanted for Christmas twice, and every time I answered simply: “a little brother”.

Now that I’m old enough to know better, I see two things wrong with this request:

  1. The day after Thanksgiving is FAR too late to ask for a gift that has to bake for 9 months
  2. I should’ve asked for a BIG brother (which wouldn’t have happened, unless they adopted, but a girl can dream, right?)

Reason being: conversations like the one my Big Brother and I had last night… about men.

*audience breathes deeply* Yes, this is one of THOSE posts…

Basically, I asked why men will date a “good girl” or, to be more politically correct, one who wants a meaningful relationship and does not participate in more… physically-based ones.  I mean, it just seems like a waste of time to me!  I don’t know about everywhere else in the country, but here in Atlanta, finding a girl who is willing to just have sex with you and be done (also known as a “ho” to some, but I accept their choices and roll with my own) is, well, easy as pie.

McDonald’s apple pie… From the drive-thru.

So why break some young, hopeful, slightly-naive (read: superbly-coiled) girl’s heart with all the game playing when you could have just gotten with one of the numerous hoes of all shapes and sizes that inhabit even the most stringent of universities here in Atlanta (hey now, hoes be studyin’!) as well as the loosest of lounges (BTW, what’s up with a lounge?  I mean, I don’t like clubs, but a lounge?  A chill little negro like myself could get with a lounge… #imjussayin).  In essence, why misrepresent yourself in order to get into a win-lose situation, when you could be real about things and subsequently get a win-win?

My big brother’s answer:  Because either way, we still win, and we want what we want.  If that means hurting the girl… well… you can avoid her afterwards.

Damn.  Never thought about it like that.

But it does make a lot of sense: if you know that, no matter what, you’re going to win and you don’t care about the party who is subject to lose, why even make them a part of your thought process?  And let’s face it: most of the time, men (at my age… so fairly young) are on their DJ Khaled isht: they just wanna “win, win, win, no matter what”.

And it doesn’t matter if I lose.

So where does this leave me, you ask?  On a journey of self-discovery, as per his and Number1Roomie’s recommendation.  I think it’s time for me to take a step back before I become too frustrated or turn into someone I can’t look in the eye.  So, this year is dedicated to me… in my purest form: without sex.  I mean, it’s not going to be easy, but I’ve already got one week down, and only about 51 to go… right?  And I’m not taking myself completely away from men… I’ve just decided to take N1R’s advice and “chill”, i.e. let the right one find me.

I just hope the wrong one doesn’t find me first…

Peace, Love, and Big Brothers,

SuperCoils

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What’s up guys?

I know it’s late, but I’ve been up most of the night pondering the meaning of life… and watching random nonsense on youtube.  I have to admit, this year (so far) as been pretty rough emotionally, and mainly because of the men I choose to allow into my life and how I deal with them.  I’ve been told time and time again by my brother (ThatGuy) and sister (Number1Roomy or N1R for short) that I need to stop giving so much of myself to what they refer to as “project niggas”, aka men who have something wrong with them (in the relationship sense) and don’t want to fix it.  Example:

I once dated a man (whom we refer to as Mr. Image), who was, in short, an asshole.  We dated for almost 2 years, but he did things that he knew would hurt me and never really cared when I got upset and told him how it made me feel.  Upon further inspection, it turns out that he really cared for a girl in high school who was screwing everyone but him.  Because of this, his heart was completely closed, and it sure as hell wasn’t gonna open up for me.  We broke up because neither of us wanted to marry one another (WTF?  I wasn’t even thinking about marriage at the time!).  I continue to attempt to be this person’s friend because he says I am special, but I am getting to the point where I can’t deal with all of his problems.  This, my friends, is what my ATLfam is talking about: he was a “project” to me, but I never really put my glue and scissors away.

Well, by golly y’all I’ve done it again; multiple times in fact, since Mr. Image and each time I am the one left hurting while they go on to live their lives…

In short, ladies and gentlemen, I am the worst type of woman there can possibly be: I am Captain Save-A-Nigga, complete with a cape, a mask, and a spiffy little spandex outfit with a heart on my sleeve.

Captain Save-A-Nigga is the worst type of female to be because she’s too innocent to see what these men are doing to her until the damage has already been done, but not innocent enough to not give a little too much too soon.  She’ll try her best not to trip into love, but eventually falls, and always too soon.  She’s never been without a man, much like most school children have never been without some project to complete, and just like an assignment, she feels like she has a deadline to meet.  “Will he love me in a few months?  A few years, maybe?  I can stick it out,” she thinks to herself, “if only he will love me in the end.”

Oh, and this girl wants this shit in writing, because if she already knows she’s gonna get an F for all her hard work, well, she can just move on to the next project.

… that is, until she looses the one thing that makes it all seem worthwhile in her head: her innocence.  This innocence is not lost with penetration of her vagina, but of her heart.  You see, she keeps allowing these men to take advantage of her, to use her until she’s almost all gone.  She doesn’t know who she is anymore, nor does she care, as long as she can be the right one… for this one… right now.

But one day, she wakes up to the realization that she just can’t do it anymore.  It’s like someone just shot her through her heart.

For me, that day came a few weeks ago, when Mr. Image and I made love for the last time, Coach and I began texting, Big Blue and I broke up, and I realized that ArtKid’s text messages always started with the phrase, “Yo, I’m mad bored.”

What am I doing?

I can literally feel the pain in my chest, and it feels like cold water is running down the inside of my skin right now: I just can’t do it anymore.

I need to be honest with myself.  I need to figure out what I am doing and what I need in a man to make my life easier instead of harder.  I need to know when to hold ’em and when to fold ’em when it comes to men.  When Big Blue and I broke up (deets on that later), it hurt me, and I need to stop pretending that it didn’t.  Mr. Image and I only made love because I was feeling insecure and less than beautiful and I wanted someone to hold me.  Coach is far too controlling and selfish for me to even consider being with and ArtKid is, well, a kid in an adult’s body.

… and I am a fool for the illusion of love.

They’re Anita Baker and I’m caught up in the rapture.

But no more!  I can’t do this crazy shit anymore!  I can’t be the same person I was and keep getting my heart broken!  I’m to the point now where no one has permission to cross that threshold, pick that lock, knock down that door.  I know now how some men are, and unless they are willing to break down a VERY tall, very thick wall, ain’t no niggas gettin’ to my heart any time soon.  I know they say love only comes to those with an open heart, but if this is what I have to wade through to find it, I’d rather build a raft and float just above it, never breaking the surface.  Fuck that galoshes shit… I’d rather be alone forever than to be Captain Save-A-Ho for one more minute.

So, to those out there willing and able, I hope you brought your sledgehammer, because it only seems right now to punish you for all the other men’s mistakes.

Peace, Love, and Closed Hearts,

SuperCoils

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