He's Just Not That Into You

Hell, it happens to the best of us. (I will admit it's happened to me on more than one occasion.) You meet a guy. You start talking to him. You find common ground, exchange numbers and then you end up finding out he is just not as into you as you are him. I have seen situations like this go very well and I have seen them go very badly.

If you are what I like to call "the marriage and a machete" type, you have already made it up in your mind that you two are married with 2.5 kids, he cheated on you and you want to find him and start chopping him up. "If He Didn't Wanna Be With Me, He Shoulda Just Told Me. It Ain't Like I'm Desperate" becomes a sorta of mantra of yours if you are one of those m&m types.

You could possibly be one of those "sorrows and cyanide" types. This is the girl who finds every reason from not having enough eyelashes to the lifeline in her palm not being long enough that this guy doesn't like her. She curses her mother for giving her brown eyes, sits at home, drinks and cries as she contemplates how many of her friends she has to stop hanging out with because they are the types he just MIGHT be attracted to besides her.

I find that these situations work best for the "shrug 'n stroll" type. These are the one who know it sucks that the feelings aren't mutual, admit to themselves that they might have misread the signs, shrug it off and stroll on (I'll go ahead and say it because I know y'all are quoting Jigga anyway) on to the next one. This doesn't mean you are fickle or heartless. You just choose to open yourself up to new possibilities rather than dwell on what could have been.

You want to choose a way of dealing that ends with everyone alive, in tact and needing the least amount of medication possible. So, before you pull out the machete or pour yourself a tall glass of poisonous pity, shrug it off and take a stroll. You'll love the places you end up.

-Justice

Come Up Barbie

Okay y’all. Let’s be honest. We all know her.  She is either a friend, a family member or someone we really wish we didn’t know. She is Come Up Barbie. She is the girl who has her own house, car, all her own teeth, nice clothes, fresh hair, fresh nails and if she has kids, she cares for them just the same. But when you talk to her, she is doing those things for her and hers on her own, JUST until she finds the next wealthy victim willing to date her and take over the responsibilities. She is waiting on YOUR come-up, not hers. She is that girl who measures the value of her life only by the value of a dollar. She will lie, cheat and steal to fatten her wallet and have no remorse about whom she hurts while doing so.

                Come Up Barbie is that chick who has about 8 cents in her bank account but has no interest in a man who is making less than six figures. If you date her for more than a month and do not pay at least one of her bills, she is on to the next man who will. She feels her behavior is justified because you have spent a few nights at her place, eaten a few sandwiches and slept with her at least 10.2 times and let’s face it, “You gotta pay to play”. So, it seems logical to her that the 14 days of electricity you shared with her, the four ham sandwiches (one with cheese) and every creak of her mattress should equate to you paying her bills. Oh, and never mind the fact that you are not her child’s father. If you are spending time with her,  then Lil’ Scrap and Miss New New had better have the new Jordans when they come out.  

                Oh and you can be educated, but not TOO educated. After all, we don’t want to let anything or anyone overshadow the fact that she “done been to school”. So, to add to her more than lengthy list of demands, if you read more than one book per month and would rather watch The History Channel than Love & Hip Hop Atlanta, just don’t even call Come Up Barbie.

                She’s a little delusional too. She may date you and say that she has real feelings for you. But she still has it in her head that her ex, whom she has already informed you makes more money and drives a nicer car than you, still wants her back. And even though he has a kid and is marrying his baby’s mother in two months, she just knows he would break that off if he knew he even had a chance of coming “back home”. He has only been with this girl six out of the eight year it has been since they broke up because he is waiting for her to ask him to come back. Don’t get too comfortable.

                Come Up Barbie had other issues too. Because she “done been to school” and you “don’t pay no bills ‘round here”, she is never wrong.  She can call your mother a bitch in every language that book learnin’ has taught her, punch you in the face AND step on your shoe and the moment you restrain her, she is calling the cops. And just for good measure, because she knows you just got a raise, she is suing you and saying she is pregnant with your baby. Think she won’t.

                Come Up Barbie really doesn’t like you. You know that, right? She just knows that you are good to her kids and that you work hard. She sees more promotions in your future and soon she will be able to sit back, pop out a couple of kids and live the life that a *cough cough* lady as sophisticated as herself should be living. So keep on working those long hours, Boo.

                Be on the lookout for Come Up Barbie because she could be just about anywhere. She comes in all shapes, complexions, nationalities and from all walks of life. She used to come with a distinctive look, but once she began being identified more, like a chameleon, she began to adapt. Be forewarned that there is no longer a return policy for Come Up Barbie. Over the years, she has found ways to stick with you. I’m not saying don’t browse because you could potentially find some diamond dolls on the shelves. But I did want to give you a few warning signs in case Come Up Barbie catches your eye. Now you know to leave this fake bitch in the box.

-Justice

Random

Dear Little Boy in a Man’s Body,


Let me free you from your prison. Let me lay on the line all the things you aren’t ready for and expose you for the juvenile you really are. So much of you isn’t ready for a woman who will love and be faithful to you rather than the almighty dollar or the limelight. So much of you can’t take a woman who will accept you and everything about you. There are still those bits and pieces that can stand to connect in body but when you feel someone touching your soul, you run away. That is the part that is still choosing quantity over quality and rather than one good woman, is looking to expand his collection with No-Good Barbie and Sex Slave Skipper. That part can’t understand the mentality of a woman who has no desire to play house but would rather build a home with you. While you’re out there racking up admirers, it is that part of you that is not mature enough to feel a faithful woman’s heart reaching out to you. When you’re in a public place, another juvenile part of you will not hold your woman’s hand, pull out her chair or give her the occasional hug to let her know that even though your bodies cannot be meshed together in passion at the moment, that your heart is still with hers and that that bond is unbreakable. It just may be that same part, I’m not yet sure that shies away from words like “girlfriend” or “significant other” because they sound too much like a commitment. You know, way less like the random beds you’re used to jumping in and out of without having to explain than you’re willing to deal with. There is such a huge part of you that would rather have six hoes, 4 slashed tires, two busted windows, and 3 restraining orders than 1 good woman, 2.5 kids and a whole lot less problems. But I am not sure if that part is bigger than the part that would rather walk around boasting your “334, 205, 727, 813, 404, 770 and 504” but can’t say shit about your 401k. One of your most tell-tale pieces is the one looking for the girl with the perfect skin, perfect hair and perfect body and completely ignoring the one with the perfect heart. That part of you doesn’t keep score by successful relationships and endeavors, but in baby mamas and condom wrappers.

You see, the sad part is that for every 1 real man on earth who is really dreaming big, there are 5 of you lame muthafuckas taking catnaps. You aren’t thinking of what the girl who didn’t give it up on the first date could really be trying to add to your life or what the real job and business plan could do for your future because after all, your street cred is all you need, right? Well, I wanna see that street cred keep you warm when your hoes are our hoin’ or your hustle turns cold. I wanna see your street cred be that shoulder to cry on or that listening ear when no one else understands. I wanna see the fact that you got “swag” be your saving grace from gettin’ your ass whipped or drilled when the prison gates swing closed. I wanna see the fact that you were able to lie and charm your way into a million females’ hearts cushion the blow when that one you really want doesn’t give a damn about you. Better yet, I wanna see your motto of YOLO save your life when your ass is left SOLO. Now you can walk around carrying a big stick and talkin’ shit all you want, but a bullet and a good ass whoopin’ know no bounds.

I am charging myself today to raise my sons and help rear my nephews and cousins with dignity and respect. When they grow, they will mature and put away the childish games. They will think of their mirrors as friends and not foes because they will love and respect the man they become. They will not be Little Boys Trapped In Men’s Bodies and will stand next to me to insure that all of you cease to exist.

Sincerely,

The Future

I’m surprised you didn’t feel the things I did to you in my mind last night. As you spoke, I took your words and touched each peak and valley of me to be sure you knew you were in friendly territory. My eyes magically moved your hands to my hips and made themselves at home. I spoon-fed you pieces of me and what you couldn’t hold between your lips, I let drip and bathe us both. I wrapped my legs around you and let them tie sweet nooses of need. Sure, there were other people in the room. But if they watched long enough, they might have learned something. Drip, drip, drip. Our bodies, one perfect shade of brown, slid down the walls creating the most lavish luster of lust. As we reached the floor, we became a puddle that flowed all over the room. Rug burns, baby? Who gives a shit when you get to spend a few hours in ecstasy? My tongue was a savage beast that longed to taste every part of you. For years, I had yearned for a nectar as sweet. Flat on my back, I morphed into an acrobat and contort myself in ways to welcome you. Much obliged, you came inside and get prepared to work. The further you burrowed into my diamond mine, the more intrigued you became about my treasure. You had to dig deeper and heighten the excitement. My moans, oohs and ahhhhs were a pep talk for you and inspire you to continue your journey. Soon, you were worthy of my wonder. Your back to the floor, I took my place on top of your mountain and began to shower you with gifts. First were the tricks of my hips and I loved how your eyes told the story of your enjoyment. I wanted to show you how strong I am, so I squeezed with all my might. More out of joy than pride, I felt you grow within me. The way you moved beneath me became a rain dance that caused my heavy cloud to give way. Not before long, we are soaked in a sea of us.

Perhaps the next time all these thoughts occur inside of me, you will do us both a favor and join them.

The Trayvon Martin Case

Let's face it. Virtually everyone in America is talking about the February 26th death of Trayvon Martin. But how many people really know what the hell they are talking about? As it stands, we have a 17-year-old kid that never really had a chance at life because it was cut short by a self-appointed equalizer. Notice how I did not say a BLACK 17-year-old kid? That is because that is exactly what I mean. For a second, and this is to my Black people who turn EVERYTHING into an issue of race, let's forget the fact that Trayvon was black. Let's lighten his skin for a second and put him in the scenario that night. If it had been the screams of a Hispanic or White teen you heard on that 911 call? Would you be equally as upset? Would you be putting your hoodies up? For about two seconds, forget he was Black and then tell me how you feel.

If you haven't gotten upset by now, keep reading. Because I am not totally vapid, I will put the topic of race back on the table. There is no way we can ignore the fact that a Hispanic and White male has shot and killed an unarmed Black male. In no state law books will you find Skittles and an iced tea listed as deadly weapons. And on the 911 video, you can clearly hear the police officer say "Are you following him?" When George Zimmerman stated that he was, the officer explicitly said, "We don't need you to do that". But Zimmerman still gave chase. Regardless to what Geraldo Rivera says, a hoodie has never been named as the suspect in a crime. As human beings, we naturally look at the obvious difference between the parties involved. Since that is skin color, it is natural to ask the question of whether or not Zimmerman would have reacted the same way if Trayvon Martin had been Black. Would there have been something "wrong with this guy" had he been White? And what reason would Trayvon have to come toward Zimmerman knowing that all he had on his person was a bag of candy and a drink? There really is no way around the question of race.

Let's talk little about the stupidity of George Zimmerman. This guy is attempting to stand behind Florida's Stand Your Ground Law. This law states that an individual may use deadly force in self-defense when there is reasonable belief of a threat, without an obligation to retreat first. Again, Skittles.......and damned iced tea. Pretty threatening, huh? Then there is the fact that Zimmerman CREATED the threat by following the kid. And the fact that he ADMITTED to the police that he followed him and as we heard, was against the officer's advice. And if Jeb Bush says it makes no sense, it must be pretty stupid.

Basically what I am saying is, before you go putting on your hoodie and posting your "Justice for Trayvon" (or for you Tweeters, "#Justice4Trayvon") messages, look at the case from all angles. Don't be swayed by the media and by all means, do not let Trayvon Martin's death be a fad. When you put on your hoodie, know why and don't let Travyon's death be in vain.


JUSTICE

Lessons Driven Home By The Events of 2011

Don't bankrupt your soul while investing in the dreams of others.

Bad relationships are love's diarrhea. Once you get them out of your system, you'll feel better and be able to move on.

In the process of mending the hearts of others, make sure your own isn't breaking.

Let them choose you or lose you. Either way, be okay with the outcome.

Know better. Do better. Show better.

Your mind is a beautiful place. Stop letting those who aren't paying the rent live there for free.

It's not how many times you get knocked down, it's how well you plan to make sure it doesn't happen again.

No matter how goofy, moody, crazy and unpredictable you are, those who matter will love you anyway. Everyone else is dead weight.

Anyone you believe loves you will hurt you. But those who truly do never will.

You and God are the most important people you will face each day.

Some Things I Hope People Change In The New Year

1. Going natural as a trend and acting like those who don't make that choice are inferior. If you have to "go" natural, that means you have visited the Ring of Relaxers. Get off your high horse and see the beauty in all of it.

2. Men knowing you can't turn a ho into a housewife but still being willing to test the theory.

3. Waiting for our kids to get to school to learn home training.

4. The ability that rap music (Hip Hop's bastard child) has to birth philosophical idiots. Just because someone said it in a rap doesn't make it profound.

5. People acting as though bullying only happens on the playground. It's real. It's everywhere. Wake up.

6. Hailing World Star Hip Hop as their CNN. Maybe if you kept more quality around the house, your kids would learn to read before they learn all the words to Nicki and Wayne's new album.

7. Using the word "swag" 18 times in a sentence. That's all I got for that one.

8. People letting the number of "Likes" and Facebook friends determine how great they are.

9. Letting the streets raise our children and never teaching them their worth.

10. Terrible producers shoving their music down people's throats. The fact is EVERYONE has a studio, thinks they are a dope producer and knows people who think they have talent. But lies are like fables. Just because you repeat them, it doesn't make it true. Either develop your skills and try again or find something else you're good at.

11. Letting your Greek letters define you. Your organization created its legacy without you. Go create your own.

12. Deadbeat mamas and daddies.

13. Us allowing our children to search the television for role models. Your children should look up to you first and every day, you should give them reasons to never stop doing so.

14. (I know this won't change, but it pisses me off, so I'll post it anyway) Black women showing up to the hair store looking a mess. If you can fix yourself up going to the club with the hair you are about to buy, you can look decent with what God gave you. And hats are your friends. No excuses.