Me thinks lady doth (not) protest too much

side ish: TGIF. I just decided to buy an insurance policy for myself...a 'just in case' my ass dies in the streets of NY. I live in the Bronx on Killer Avenue between Lite ‘Em Up Lane and Buck ‘Em Down Blvd so I think this was a good idea. It would be funnier if it wasn't true.

So, let me pop my collar. * polyester popping in the background * I have successfully matched another adorable, loving couple… my god given talent is match making,… yall didn’t know. Here is how it works: I meet with a potential, and listen. No conversation, no mingling, just plain ole listening. Old adage ‘give a man enough rope, he will hang himself’. But can you tell me this, why hasn’t the favor been returned? I have been on the worse blind dates that i could really cry right now.... like while writing this blog. So bad, I asked the match maker, 'do you not like me?! What have I done to you for you to subject me to such torment?' ummm to be upfront I’m not single, but the notion is looking plenty pleasing to me. Let me pour my heart out a little… now, silence is a text easy to misread…. Not my quote but follow along. Men tend to sleep on me… meaning, they get comfortable, relaxed, complacent… tending to think they ‘got it like that’. I don’t ask for more than emotional support, even sex is negotiable (and that is a grave compromise on my end.) You don’t have to ball or even bounce to be with me, just make sure your ass is employed with your own damn cash and we are in cahoots. if I have to ask you to buy me shit and take me places, then why am I really with you? I can treat myself like how I want to be treated. I dine and wine myself. I go to the movies by myself. I even vacation alone. In summary, I really don’t need anyone to do these things for/with me. It is a conscious, oftentimes regrettable, choice to dine, vacation with another. You have those few who think that my low-maintenance ass is one to steal on. I’m willing to let him run amuck, living it up like the fat cat. Give a man enough rope he will hang himself. How many slum bastids have been left holding their bags and picking their faces up off the floor? I will tell you, a good effing number of them. When things were brand new and neither one of us could do no wrong, boy was he floating his ass around like a butterfly… but as soon as he see that he doesn’t ‘need’ to shell out quality (funds, time, effort) to remain in my company, a lump on a log is what he becomes. Perhaps I am the enabler and it is my damn fault…. But funk that, … the ‘emancipation of epi’… changes are a coming…. I guess you all know who I’m talking about so insert name where appropriate.

Happy weekend!