“Til Death Do Us Part” (Pt.2)

So, following the previous psycho shit, I had been single for a couple of months.  I had ignored a total of 128 calls, somewhere around 80 texts & trashed numerous notes left in my mailbox.  There’s no coming back from that shit.  None.

I’m in bed dozing the fuck off when I hear a car pull up outside.  Soon after, there were rocks being thrown at my window.  I open it to find Jocelyn, Em & some other chick outside with Jocelyn begging me to come out so we could talk.  There was no way in hell.  I reminded her that it was dumb late & asked her to leave before my neighbors woke up.  This dumb bitch decides to lean on the horn instead.

I made the deal with her that if she would get the fuck out, we could meet at a restaurant after work.  She agreed & left.

No more than an hour later, I receive a call from Em telling me I “have” to rush down to the hospital cause Jocelyn had been hurt.  I reminded her of the agreement she witnessed & told her it wasn’t my problem, hung up & resumed sleep.

I was leaving for work when I realized why Jocelyn was in the hospital — this psycho bitch cut herself & wrote “I still love you” in her blood, on my fucking windshield!!!

After seeing this, I never spoke to her again.  Still haven’t to this day.  Last I heard, she went to a mental institution shortly after she left the hospital.  I’m still cool with her younger sister, I suppose, but I have yet to ask about her & it’s been some years now.  She’s clearly still alive because I haven’t received any funeral invitations or anything related.

That girl had a mountain of problems.  In a way I feel like I should have just went outside that night, but so many things went through my head like: a) she had a knife of some sort.  How do I know her unstable ass wouldn’t had stabbed me?  b) She was drunk.  Maybe she just didn’t know what she was doing.  c) If I had went outside, maybe she would’ve just went home & went to sleep.

Be clear, I don’t blame myself for any of the shit that happened that night.  My only wish is that I had a sign in the very beginning when she was so upfront about what she wanted, that things would turn out the way they did.  However, as the saying goes: hindsight is 20/20.


“Til Death Do Us Part” (Pt.1)

As you read the title, you’re probably thinking this pertains to marriage — quite the contrary actually.  I have told this story a few times as the topic came up, but never in a solitary setting, or “blog” if you will…or at least not that I can remember.  Fair warning, this is a story I wish I could make up.  The names & events are true & although I’ll try to keep it short, nothing is spared.  If you know me, you know I have no issue sharing things that aren’t too personal.

Anyway, a bit of back story — I met this girl, Jocelyn, quite some time ago & things started off as a “friends with benefits” situation.  Jocelyn was a gorgeous Colombian chick with the body of a goddess.  If I had to compare, I’d say she had the face of a younger Salma Hayek with the build of Vida Guerra in her prime.  We met through a mutual female friend I worked with at the time.  She would come up to the job on occasion to take said friend to lunch & we would always catch eyes & smile at each other.  Since they would always be together, I figured they were “together”, so I never really spoke outside of being cordial.  One day I would find this wasn’t the case.

As I was wrapping up a call (I worked at a call center), Emilie (the mutual friend) walked over to me & presented me with two cupcakes & explained to me that Jocelyn made them for me & that she wanted to fuck me.  I thought she was joking until she showed me the text thread between them with Jocelyn asking if Em had told me yet.  I was kinda excited to be honest.  Em gave me Jocelyn’s number & I texted her almost immediately.  Fuck the whole “wait x amount of time” shit — I was now intrigued.  Jocelyn responded asking if I was free that Saturday & when I said I was, she sent her address & told me to bring wine.

I went, & we had a great time…multiple times.  Fast forward about 4 months & we started dating.  She was a great girl — funny, smart, loved video games & she could cook her ass off.  I met her parents when they came to NYC from Rhode Island & she seemed to come from a good background.  Her father was loaded & he actually offered me a job after dinner.  I told him I would think about it.  Keep this in mind.  It’s somewhat important.

My birthday was nearby & Jocelyn had come up to the job to see Em & they, along with another female coworker went to lunch.  When they came back, the other coworker stopped by my cubicle telling me how much she liked Jocelyn & somewhere in the conversation, I found out that her father owned the shop downtown where I had gotten fitted for a suit before.

Fast forward to my birthday — Jocelyn, Em, myself & the other coworker (I forget her name) had all went to Dave & Buster’s in the city.  They had each gotten me gifts.  The coworker got me a dress shirt from her father’s shop & Jocelyn had gotten me a tie (I collect ties…it’s weird) to match, cufflinks, a tie clip & dress shoes.  We all ate, drank, played a few games & went home.

These birthday items sat in the closet for quite some time until around Jocelyn’s parents’ anniversary dinner.  They had arrived in NYC & we were to meet them in the city.  I was ironing my clothes waiting for Jocelyn to get out of the shower.  When she was out, I stepped in, showered & as I was coming out, I smelled something burning.  I rushed out of the bathroom to find the dress shirt on fire, even though I clearly remember unplugging the iron.  As I’m in the kitchen dousing the shirt in water, Jocelyn runs into the bathroom & locks the door, immediately followed by numerous toilet flushes.

Confused as fuck, I knock on the door several times asking if she’s ok & for her to open the door.  After a few moments of silence, she opens the door & throws my jeans at me.  My wallet falls out of the pocket & I notice it was empty.  This crazy bitch flushed EVERYTHING, including the money order for my rent, my cash & my paycheck…down the fucking toilet.  We argued & for whatever reason, I decided we were still going to dinner.  Partly because I now had no fucking money & hadn’t went food shopping yet.

At dinner we sat at opposite ends of the table & her father asked what the beef was about.  When I explained he sighed & wrote me a check for $3,000 to cover what I lost.  Even though I had a taste of her crazy side & the whole shit started because she swore I was fucking the girl that got me the shirt & how disrespectful it was of me to want to wear it to her parents’ dinner (even though SHE GAVE her my shirt size AND helped her pick the shit out, therefore being a gotdamn accomplice to the gift…)…we didn’t break up.

Sometime after, she accused me yet again of fucking some girl I didn’t even really know & we broke up.  I decided the argument was stupid as shit, so I invited her to spend the night so we could talk.  I cooked, she brought alcohol…we hashed our shit out, watched a movie & fell asleep on the couch.

I woke up & she was cleaning the kitchen.  She kissed me “good morning”, I made myself a bowl of cereal & sat down at the table to watch some TV.  The door buzzed so I went downstairs — my package from Amazon had arrived.  I came back up & sat back at the table.  There was an extremely strong smell of bleach but I didn’t think shit of it because well, she was cleaning.

The moment I grabbed a spoon full of cereal to dump into my mouth, she smacked the spoon from my hand & the bowl from the table.  I lost my shit asking what the fuck her problem was, & that’s when she told me she poured bleach in my cereal.  There was no way in fuck she was serious, right?  I picked the bowl up & sure enough…it smelled like bleach.  At this point, I was so furious, the only thing I could do was to tell her to gather her shit & get the fuck out.  It was over.

But wait.  There’s more…

Logic vs. Typical Thought

The thought process between men & women are highly different, obviously.  Men are typically “do’ers” while women take pride in being “thinkers”.  The lines are kinda blurred because, well…both of these aspects are generally 50/50.  Neither sex is actually smarter than the other & each individual operates differently.  This is common sense, no?  Of course it isn’t.  I can’t stress enough how much of a believer I am in logic/common sense.  It’s probably the most important characteristic ever because, well, if most of us used this tool wisely, certain parts of life would not only make more sense but would also operate much more smoothly.

Let’s take a look at three instances where common sense/logic should overcome the typical thought process…

Let’s say you meet a girl (or guy, whichever applies).  You exchange numbers & begin to talk/text a great deal.  You enjoy their conversation but realize you’re not the only guy (or girl) that they interact with.  There are two ways your mind could travel:

Typical thought: she/he is a ho.  They’re tryina fuck with everyone of the opposite sex they speak with & I have to compete with everyone for their attention but I won’t because I’m the most important person in the world.

Logic/common sense: people have/make friends out of different situations.  It’s rude to typecast a person based off of what I think versus what I know & I probably shouldn’t let my emotions get the best of me.

Make sense?  It should.  People interact with other people daily.  One’s intentions don’t fit everyone’s.  For instance, when you go to the bank, do you immediately think of robbing it?  I’m sure some do, but not everyone does.  Same goes with people.  If you’re talking to someone & your situation is cozy, that doesn’t necessarily mean they speak to everyone with the same manner.  Most people just have a habit of negative thinking & it spoils possibilities.  If you’re that curious, try asking.  Next scenario.

Kim has been hurt by two Aquarius men in her life.  They were bad relationships & she has vowed to never date Aquarius men again.

Typical thought: a person’s sign determines what type of person they are…because every person from every sign is the same.  #TaurusSeason

Logic/common sense: I shouldn’t even have to explain this one.  Everyone’s different, yet we all mostly have common characteristics.

People’s actions, thoughts & demeanor generally are a makeup of various things…usually spanning from how they were raised to their personal experiences.  I’m a Virgo, for instance.  People generally don’t know this unless I tell them because I have different characteristics that make up my personality.  I also share characteristics of my parents, whom neither are Virgos but are smart people who pushed me & my brother hard & made us look at life from more than one angle.

In other words, I could have been born a Cancer & still have the same exact characteristics I have now.  Astrological sign doesn’t mean shit.  I got into a debate earlier with a friend of mine who said “I’m bipolar, it’s the Gemini in me” & it’s sad that people think this way.  I explained to her, from my point of view, that she’s “bipolar” because she acts before she thinks & when things don’t go how she expects, she flies off the handle.  She then proceeded to tell me I think like that “because I’m a Virgo”, which is absolutely retarded because I’ve known her for years & am basing what I said off of me watching how she takes things without thinking first.  That would mean that everyone who jumps the gun is a Gemini.  Let that sink in for a second.

Last scenario.

Michelle wears low cut shirts to show off her huge tits.  Men cat-call or stare at her chest often & it makes her uncomfortable.  However, if you look at her Instagram photos, she has provocative pics everywhere.

Typical thought: men are dogs.  All they want to do is fuck.

Logic/common sense: if you don’t want the attention, stop dressing like you want the attention.

I mean, seriously.  I’ve heard a lot of women say they show off their assets to make other women jealous or because they like the attention.  So…you want the attention, but you don’t want the attention…?  Or is it that you only want the attention of someone you find attractive?  Well, that’s not exactly how it works.  You see, you’re trying to use sexual prowess mixed with the fact that most men think with their dicks.  Bad move.

If you throw a piece of steak in the middle of a pack of wolves, what the fuck do you think will happen?  Here’s a thought: be proactive to your emotions.  If you want an attractive guy to notice you, try talking to him.  Your vocal cords work the same as ours.  Why the fuck do we have to do all of the talking?  Having your tits out hoping 1 guy out of 500 notices is absolutely retarded.  If you don’t want the attention, wear unflattering jeans & an extra large T-shirt.  See how many men hit on you then.

My point is, I wish more people used logic/common sense than the seemingly small pool of us that do.  I have faith in humans but typically everyone wants to fit in with specific groups so they adopt their ways of thinking & lifestyles.  I don’t think there will ever be a time where the general population thinks for themselves again.

As a free thinker, this saddens me.

– Hype (@_maliante)

“Where The Hoes At?”

Quite fucking frankly, I’m sick & fucking tired of being asked this question by degenerate ass dudes with no other reason for leaving their homes than to chase pussy all…the fucking…time.

It never fails.  I’ll be out somewhere with the intent of having a few drinks, listening to music, checking sports scores & being completely away from any stress free environment, when I’ll notice someone I know either by themselves or with a few others & eventually wind up speaking to them.  The same three fucking questions are always asked:

Them: What’s good fam?

Me: Shit, chillin…having a few drinks, relaxing a bit.

Them: I feel you.  You still work at ____?

Me:  Nah man, I haven’t worked there for (insert time frame here).

Them: Ah, shit.  Damn nigga, where the hoes at?

Listen, I don’t know where these hoes you motherfuckers constantly seek confine themselves to.  Obviously they’re in another location other than the establishment we’re currently in.  Do I look like a Ho Whisperer to you?  Sure, I dress decently & conduct myself in such a manner that women engage in conversation with me, but I don’t indulge in “ho hunting”.  It’s not my thing.

On another note, I understand why dudes seek out hoes the way they do in some cases.  That means…not every aspect of the advocation I’m about to extend applies to everyone.  In other words, this is not a “get out of jail free” explanation for you dickheads that get caught cheating on your girl or to use as ammo to bag the bad one you’ve been checking for.

Hoes are emotionless.  They don’t want anything but attention, dick & nice things.  Usually they expect them to come in that order.  Some men actually try to walk the straight line & settle with a gorgeous chick that they feel comfortable being themselves with.  However, after being dissed in front of his/her friends so many times, the “fuck it” sets in & they no longer want to put themselves out there only to look like an ass at the door.

Hoes provide a false sense of confidence.  They’re known to go after dudes that LOOK like they have something positive going for themselves.  It’s damn near entrapment.  So of course after being turned down so many times by chicks with their noses in the sky, typical guy “fuck it…might as well get this easy pussy” logic sets in.  After doing whatever he wants with her & it’s completely accepted, he’ll usually tell his friends about his experience & of course they’ll want in as well.  It’s an imminent cycle until the inner bond is broken & someone gets pissed off & fucks up the whole operation (see nudes exposures, sex tape releases, etc.).

My whole shit is, if you like to fuck, then fuck.  Just be safe & discreet about it.  Personally I don’t like sharing or knowing a whole bunch of other guys you’ve slept with, so “ho hunting” isn’t my thing.

I’m in no way condoning these actions, I’m simply saying I understand.

The After Effect

I know…usually I’m drunk ranting or looking at things from a different perspective, but today I felt like writing a bit.  Shit happens.  I actually should be writing my book but I had a conversation with someone & my mind went elsewhere instead of listening to their bullshit problems.  Enjoy.

I laid there, emotionless, staring at the ceiling as she slithered out of bed and searched for her underwear.  I looked over at her briefly as she grabbed them from the floor and slid them up her long silky legs.  I couldn’t help but wonder what I was doing here.  Scratch that.  I knew exactly why I was here, obviously, but to what result?  She’s 41, married with two kids and her relationship with her husband is more of a task than a union.  I’m barely 27 and should be sneaking out of a 20-something year old college girl’s bed as she sleeps in a drunken stupor.  Somehow I’m okay where I am, but then again, I’m not.  We’ve done this numerous times but tonight feels different.

“Are you alright?” she asks, pulling my t-shirt over her head.

“Yeah, just thinking…” I replied, adjusting the pillows behind my head.

In my mind, I was taken back to the day we met.  She was on the treadmill at the gym in my neighborhood, a completely different side of the city than the one housing the family in the photos of this bedroom.  I couldn’t help but notice the way her yoga shorts hugged her curves, especially with her ass sticking out like a tourist’s hand attempting to hail a cab.  I’ve seen multiple guys approach her only to turn and walk away with their heads hanging.  She had approached me and asked me to spot her while she used the leg press, which seemed awkward, but I agreed.  A wave of lust consumed me as I firmly held her hips and watched them in motion as she exhaled deeply with every rep, but I kept my composure.  I’m an average built guy…there are many muscleheads in this building.  Why me and not them?

During our workout, which was mostly her doing numerous exercises and my following her around like a lost puppy, conversation flowed and she asked if I wanted to try a new juice bar she had heard of.  I agreed but wasn’t aware that she meant uptown, which was completely out of my way, but fuck it.  After replenishing our energy, she informed me that she lived close by and I could shower at her place if I wanted — a gesture of gratitude for skipping my plans and accompanying her 30 minutes away.  I reluctantly agreed and we walked about two blocks to her brownstone.

She told me I could shower first as she’d wind up using all the hot water and asked if I wanted a sandwich for after.  I nodded and made my way upstairs to the door she had directed me to.  I hopped in the shower and began to zone out, letting the steam and water pressure lift the fatigue of the day’s activities.  That’s when I heard the shower door open behind me.  I turned, looking over my shoulder as she stepped in and traced her fingers down my back.

We fucked in the shower — an aggressive game of body tennis where I served her and she returned every stroke.  I could tell she hadn’t been fucked in some time, as her body tightened and responded as if she needed what I was giving her.  We then moved into the adjoining bedroom, still wet, removing all of the sheets and unnecessary adornments from the top.  She came twice more and I matched my first from beforehand.  As we laid panting in our mixture of shower puddle and sweat, I glanced at the wall, to which the professional photo of her and her family stared me right in the face.

“You’re not gonna get all weird on me about that, are you?” she asked, still attempting to catch her breath.  The ‘oh shit’ feeling came over me and I began to feel like a prick…more because I knew how it felt to be cheated on than because I didn’t even bother inquiring her relationship status at all today.  She gave me a brief rundown of their fucked up marriage — how she knew he had a girlfriend in Jersey who may possibly be pregnant…the whole nine.  Since this was recent findings, he had apparently agreed to let her have her fun without asking questions until they were ready to settle one way or another.  So, here I am, obviously.

“What are you thinking about?” she continued, sliding back into bed and laying her head on my chest.

“Things, I guess.  It’s been six months now and I could help but wonder how everything’s gonna play out.”

“Ah…” she exclaimed, running her fingers along my abs.  “You’re in the ‘after effect’…”

What The Fuck Is Wrong With You?

Now, before I embark on this rant of sorts, I’ll start by saying the things I’m about to bring up don’t necessarily adhere or apply to all women.  That should be common sense but I’m aware not everyone is a card carrying member of that club so fuck it, better safe than sorry.  Also I’m not a misogynist or “He-man Woman Hater”…none of that shit.  I just truly hate stupid people.  Seriously.  I get headaches interacting with them.  I’m also aware that men do some of the same shit I will be mentioning in these next few paragraphs.  However, I’m not attracted to men, nor do most males represent me in any way, so my fucks about them are at a bare minimal unless their actions affect me.  So yeah…let’s talk for a moment…

I had the pleasure of speaking to someone earlier about wants vs needs.  A female friend of mine, actually.  & before you bring up “we don’t all” whatever, refer to what I said in the first paragraph.  Anyway, we were talking about relationships, traditions & the like when a sentence of hers basically punched me square in the nose: “I don’t need any man that can’t make decisions on his own & doesn’t have xyz in his name”.  Yes…imagine the blank look on my face.  I’ll explain.

First of all, we were talking about dating.  Not marriage.  While I agree that both genders should be responsible, I also know what it’s like to struggle.  I’ve been at the top and the bottom.  It ain’t as easy as some people make it out to be to live a stable life via words.  As far as “making decisions on his own”, that’s apples & oranges.  Some people actually like hearing their significant other’s opinion, just as some rely on them for everything.  It’s not difficult to determine the difference between the two if you actually listen & pay attention besides when it benefits you.  So again, not every guy is the same mentally, as not every female is.  You can’t really base your current experience off of your past.  This is why I believe in dispelling a certain comfort level in relationships.  Once one person gets too comfortable, they start feeling like they run shit.  Usually it’s women.  It’s portrayed in numerous sitcoms for a reason.  So when said woman finds a guy that’s not having her shit, it becomes a problem after the initial few months.  Go ahead…look at your own past relationships & remember what arguments over what took place & prove me wrong.  I’ll wait.

My point being, people don’t have realistic expectations of mates in 2013.  Men want maids, cooks, a constant supply of head, etc.  Women want a financial staple, a constant supply of head & someone to do what they want when they want.  There’s no sensible equilibrium anymore.  It actually makes me feel old noticing the change in the past 10 years & I’m still in my twenties.  Everyone’s idea of what relationships should consist of or be based on seems to be some deluded form of what they want from themselves that they forget your mate is supposed to be the things that you aren’t.  How the fuck can two people that are exactly alike complete each other?  Two squares will never make a circle.  You have to compromise.

I’m not saying date a bum ass guy who doesn’t want to better himself.  What I am saying is realize that everyone isn’t the same.  Coal makes diamonds.  You’ll be surprised at what you may find if you step off your high horse & get your hands a little dirty.

“You Look Like You Only Date White Girls”

Ah…more stereotypes.  I was actually hit with this nonsensical bullshit less than 24 hours ago by a “typical” stereotypical Black female.  Before I continue, let me describe her as best as I can so you’ll see where I’m coming from.

She’s about 5’3, chubby build, unattractive in the face…at least to me, a weed smoker, loud, ignored her kids during our visit — they were literally jumping off of the furniture onto each other as she took hits off of a blunt; she had dreads that looked as if someone slowly unraveled a hemp rope…generally, she was a hood rat.

Now with that out of the way, maybe you can understand my anger because this happens often.  Also, I’m multiracial…which means whichever way you’d like to stack it, any relationship I have would be interracial, so there’s that.  My mentality and personality doesn’t equate to the typical males these types of chicks are used to being around, so I kinda get where the assumption comes from — I’m rather laid back and I enjoy stimulating conversation.  I’m much more likely to open up and take an interest in any female with certain qualities that match my own.

It’s obviously expected by a collective of lower level track minded Black women that if you’re a Black male of sorts (be it light, dark, piss yellow or durag shade), you’re SUPPOSED to be attracted to every Black female that crosses your path, or you obviously only date White chicks.  Never mind the fact that there’s Latinas, Asians & other cultures.  Nope, if it ain’t Black, it’s White.  To make shit worse, there’s no real way to prove them wrong unless you happen to have a sex tape of yourself dicking some Black chick down in your phone.

Moving forward, to dispel said comment, no…I don’t only date White chicks.  I have dated Black chicks in the past, although my last 3 relationships have been with either a White or Hispanic female.  I’m not even sure what someone who only dates one specific ethnicity looks/acts like…so for one to assume as such must mean they know something I’m unaware of.  That’s not a call of naivety either…I’d like to think I’m intelligent because my parents gave enough of a damn & didn’t want me to grow up being a fuck up.  So yes, I speak different languages, have an extensive vocabulary & see/do shit a lot differently than initially expected.  Has nothing to do with anything other than the fact that i’m versatile.  Although the “nigga” does come out often…it’s not a prevalence as far as I’m concerned.  So maybe that’s it.  Because I’m not a “nigga” 24/7, it’s assumed I have no interest in Black females.

I enjoy shit that a small number of Black chicks that I know or have met (take note of the emphasis) are familiar with.  Music, for instance, is an uncommon ground usually.  I like bands like Maroon 5, Taking Back Sunday, Fallout Boy, Sleigh Bells & so forth.  Why?  Because they make great fucking music.  At some point in my life, I got tired of the direction rap constantly goes — guns, selling drugs, fucking bitches; so I decided to give other shit a try.  Having a musical background (I’m a rapper/producer…I know right?  Typical “nigga” shit), I appreciate lyrics & concept.  Branching out fulfilled that need, so I progressed into searching for more.  I still listen to rap, but again, lyrics & concept have to be present.

The same goes for women…I branched out at some point, & just as I still listen to rap, I still find Black women attractive.  Hopefully you’re smart enough to see the metaphor.  All in all, the assumption is wack.  If she’s attractive to me & we vibe well, I don’t care what her ethnicity is.  I’m not gonna date a specific background to appease anyone.  Fuck outta here…