For the men that say “Bless you” as a pick up line.

I don’t need your blessing. You’ll know when I’m sneezing, and we don’t keep the same faith.

Saying things like, “Damn Ma, Bless you beautiful, My God you are so fine” isn’t the quickest way for me to notice you or stop and chat. But lets be real for a second, you don’t have time to stop and chat. You got two kids and a job search screaming your name. You want me to say thank you, but why? My beauty has nothing to do with either of us. Look, this isn’t about where you aren’t in life.

Its just that I don’t think you understand one detail. While your mom thought you were special and encouraged you to express yourself, following the discourse offered in pop culture isn’t the type of expression she had in mind.

“You a big fine woman, won’t you back that thang up?” Um No.

Today, a man walked past me. “My god, bless you. You’re fine!” I walked briskly unaffected by his offering, but then he turned around to look for my eyes to say, “You gotta say something.” Should I have told him that he was also fine, like a natural exchange of hello, using any of the acceptable reliable greetings like: Hey, How’s it going, What’s up, Yo? Because thank you would have implied that somehow he was god-like, and/or capable of blessing me.

Not everything you think, must actually be said.  So, the next time I step out of a vehicle and join the curb that you happen to also be standing on, it is NOT an invitation for you to tell me, “Girl, you just get out of the car like that..(insert what might be an attempt at a sexy face.)”

Brass Tacks

BrassTacksWhen one boils things down to the bottom line it can shed light on situations. But there’s a chance that all that beautiful life will be reduced to one word. And people shouldn’t be boxed in by a word, because words fall short, and yet they are all we have. I looked up the etymology of the word broad as it relates to women.

Men used it in early 20th century to refer to women by their figure (broad hips.) “Look at those broads,” signified not only skeletal structure, but suggested that these women were low class.

Trust me that I don’t have many areas of expertise, not even language, but in this passage you will read the quintessential woman’s experience. It’s quite possibly the most entertaining scenario for anyone watching, listening or reading, anyone other than me.

It wasn’t today, nor was it a particular day. I hadn’t been home in a couple of days. I put everything away in its place and set up stations for different activities. One of these things was my vanity table. The mission was to move it to a space under or closer to a top hat light, because it was too dark in it’s current position. However, there in the new perfect spot, shined an empty no-bulb-having top hat. I keep some hats with bulbs and some without, because for a vampire like me, a dimmer is still too much light.

I had successfully made this new make-up station well lighted, only to receive his timely entrance in the middle of the finishing touches. He maybe even lent a hand to move different things as I vacuumed. But later, while I was in the middle of something else, he decided to bring darkness back to my vanity table by unscrewing the light bulb I re-homed and put it back where it was originally. It is then that he called my name so that I could see if I like his new lighting set up better.

After noticing what is blindingly obvious only to me, I just gave him a look. I probably talked down to him; I blacked out from frustration. I am really good at that, blacking out and becoming awful. This doesn’t make me proud. After coming back to life, I remind him that we just moved the vanity into that corner, this time explaining the prime position of the top hat.

BUT READER, THERE IS ONE IMPORTANT DETAIL YOU MUST KNOW.

When we are to go to sleep here in this home that we don’t live in together, he often lifts the dimmer UP instead of DOWN. This action will always turn the lights to their brightest. I have not come to accept that after hours of sitting with dim lights I am to get blasted with light just before sleep. I freak the fuck out whenever it’s done.

I told him to please put the bulb back, and he did but he also told me his reason for moving it.

“This way (our new AMAZING lighting set up) IT (the brightness coming from the light) won’t be right over your face and blind you. Ya know when I turn the switch the wrong way and make the lights all bright.”

Now none of this truly matters in the grand scheme of things—we are all human. We are silly, and we get high, and shit like this is funny. It makes you wonder how we ever got this stupid, dependent, and weak… We can all have a laugh at each other, right? This is what love looks like and to take part is letting others love us. We should, because even punctuation, a modicum of civilized intelligence, is hard, and we get very distracted.

But what if he doesn’t let it go? What if he tells you for the rest of that night, or as long as he thinks of it, when he thinks of it, that this is how he turns the light off? It isn’t because he won’t or can’t learn, but that this is the way he prefers to turn it off.

“I like to see really bright before it gets dark. It makes everything darker once it’s turned off.”

These are not my words. I couldn’t make this up. If I did, I would criticize that this character lacks believability. I mean ladies and gentlemen, is this possible? Can people be this nuts? Can I be this nuts?

Is this the natural life cycle of men and women’s’ relationships? It’s hilarious and infuriating. Light has been shed, and it boils down to whether we can keep laughing about it. If you can’t, it’s over. Am I describing an impetus to start dating women, or just taking a long time to say that love is a choice, those still laughing have it made, and I am too estranged for my own good.