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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