Thursday, August 02, 2001

My Faith in Men

It's no big secret that the men in my life have been, well, for lack of a better word, chickenshitmuthafuckinbastards. I am not going to just blame them for my drama, because although I am virtually perfect in every way, shape and form, I got some baggage that will put Alexis Colby to shame. I have to admit that as of late, even though there is NO lack of men in my life, I repeat NO lack of men, the selection has been not as good as I would like.

Kind of like when you go to the store and there is a pile of oranges, which you absolutely LOVE, but they're all nasty and bruised up, and DON'T CALL YOU BACK WHEN YOU WANT THEM TO...oh, sorry about that.

At any rate, I'm always checking out the selection that's laid out before me, picking through just to see what's out there. No doubt, there are some beautiful men out there, but they all have boyfriends already. There are some wonderful men, but those are currently not available for anything more than peepage. Is it me, or have you noticed that the cool people you'd love to date are stuck with people who are best described by the terms: garden tool? And I'm not talking about a lawn mower either, Voodoo Smartypants.

But every now and then you meet some guys who are just cool, not perfect, because as you know, only I can be perfect, and you just want to chill with them. Not try to knock their boots or throw your tongue down their throats and tickle their uvula. Although, as I confessed to the Drunken Master, I wouldn't throw 'em outta the house if they tried...But at any rate, every now and then you meet a man or men, in my case, that just restores your faith in men. Just so my manly men readers don't feel out of place, you know what I mean, you meet a girl who is just so down you don't even know what to do? Not down to throw down, that's different. Geez. Men!

So last night I hung out with World of Curls for her birfday party, and later on in the evening, I hung out with her and her cousins, The So-Called Shy One and the Closet Wifebeater. Granted, I was not there to try to crackalate at anyone, because that's not my game, (let them flock to me, I say) but it certainly helps to know that there are cool guys out there. As of late, I was pretty much feeling pessimistic about the whole man situation until last night.

Brothers, I need to let you know, all it takes is ONE MAN to mess it up for the rest of you out there. So if you ever, ever, EVER wonder why a girl won't give you play don't blame us or go around callin' us frigid, it's because of one brother who just salted your game. May be the last guy she was with, may be another guy from back in the day, but as soon as you unfurl your game, all that registers is the way in which you're similar to that guy, and the probability that you will be exactly the same.

I hate to admit that, but someone had to tell you. Ask R. Kelly: One Man. And this is why so many of the good men just feel like they get NO love: sing sweet as you might, she'll come around when she damn well feels like it. This isn't your fault, Voodoo Boyfriends, it really isn't. It's that triflin' brother's fault.

And you know who you are.

But my faith is again restored, life is good, and I know he's out there. Somewhere.

Back to my original faith in men, I must go back to work, and back to admiring the scores of wonderful guys who are out there. And I'm sure some of my readers are just as wonderful.

Peas, love, and breakin' ya off,
Voodoo

Props and Voodoo Love to Bouncy Balls and Black Socks, The Man Stealer and The Sisters.

posted by Voodoo Child @ 9:35:00 AM