This Blog Is Like A Relationship
People often ask me why I never go into my own Comments section and respond or partake in the banter going on. Especially when there are folks who go in on me. But the reason I don’t ever get involved in the Comments is because I would much prefer all of you get the last word in, and not me. Trust me, there are a lot of things I see that I want to respond to, but I know it’s a slippery slope, and once I respond to one, I have to respond to another, and then another, and then another. So, I learn to step back and let people speak their piece.
This is just one way my blog is like a relationship. Here’s another way.
You know when you’re with someone for a long time, you just start repeating the same things you said over and over again, whether on purpose or by accident? Well, because it’s late in the day and most of my energy has been given to other assignments, I’m about to do that myself.
In honor of the beautiful spring weather my adopted home has been experiencing the last couple of days, and the ladies who are wearing less clothes as a result, I am re-running a post I wrote back in September, when this blog was barely a month old.
To those dedicated readers who have been with me since way back then and remember this one, apologies for the oldie. Here’s hoping you think it’s a goodie. And to the readers who are new, enjoy.
Here it is: “Why I Look At Her”
I will never stop looking at other women.
Not ever.
I don’t care if I’m married, in a relationship, or if the woman I’m looking at is married, in a relationship, and walking down the street with Her man. If she’s fine, I’m looking at Her, at least for a moment. Here’s why:
Because I’m a man. Because she’s a woman. Because I can see and I see Her and I promise, I won’t stare at Her, just a quick look at Her. Because she is wearing that dress, that’s fitting Her right or because she is wearing them jeans and they’re fitting Her better than the dress. Because Her walk in those jeans or in that dress is really what I’m looking at.
Because she is not my woman, but I’m wondering who’s woman she is, until I finally see Her walking to Her man. It don’t matter. Her man knows like I know. She’s fine. Because Her man, was once like me, staring at Her, not knowing Her name. Shit. If he was me, he’d see Her like I see Her right now. Fine.
Because fine, Her kind of fine, is universal. I know this. Because I saw Her fine self walk by a group of dudes the other day who were standing opposite my side of the street. Because we, those guys and me, don’t do the same things, don’t like the same things, at least that’s what I thought until we saw Her, walking across the street, from my side to theirs and when she did we both stopped doing what we were doing. Because we were watching Her and even though we didn’t speak to Her, could not think of anything to say to Her, it didn’t matter. Because in our heads, we were saying fly stuff to Her and she was loving every minute of it and by the end of our game, the one we was spitting in our head to Her, we had Her number.
Because in reality, neither me nor them boys across the street, or any other man for that matter is going to say anything to Her. Because we can’t quite find a way to get the words in our head to come together out of our mouth, and speak to Her. Although, there are those men who do say something to Her. Try to compliment Her. Because “Damn baby, you look good!” and “If I wasn’t married, I’d marry you” just might be the words she’s been waiting to hear. As for a guy like me, I just look at Her and say nothing.
Because I might already have Her at home or Her on my arm. So when I look at the other Her, don’t get caught. Be subtle. Because Her on my arm might catch me and say, “Oh, you want to be with Her?” And I’ll tell Her, Baby, don’t be ridiculous. Then I will apologize because I got caught.
Because maybe it was a little disrespectful to look, but I don’t think it was that wrong. Because I think Her, the one on my arm and the one I just got caught looking at are both fine and I have to think: If the one I had on my arm was the one I looked at, would I want to trade Her for the one I looked at? Fuck it, I say to myself. Because thinking that hard just confused me and I don’t have to think about Her, who is not mine. Just look at Her, and next time don’t get caught.
Because I will see Her again, some day, maybe tomorrow, and I will look at Her, but I won’t say anything, whether I’m single or in a relationship, with my woman or by myself. I will look at Her. Because I am a man and sometimes just looking at Her is the only compliment I want to give.
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