persia
11-17-07, 11:02 PM
As little girls, we are taught that he will ride in a white horse, sweep us away to that castle and life will be alright as long as we stay the course.
Then we hit womanhood sure that we know exactly what we want him to have do and be, all the requirements for him to be a “chick like me”.
That executive in the Armani suit that can take any boardroom by storm. Chocolate, sleek and sexy as hell- all the things that are a one up from the day to day thug- what we fall into thinking is the norm.
But we never grow out of loving that thug we crushed on walking to the corner store. He always had that edge, that swagger that made us weak- the jeans, the timbs, the fitted to the side and the stroke that would make you cut a ***** for stepping to him- even his he never was going to able to offer us more.
Then our mamas sent us to family down south hoping to get that head back on right- our focus in the right direction. And surprise- who caught out eye telling great auntie “good afternoon ma’am” as he opened the door but that model of sexiness with the gold teeth, strong back and that certain slow drawl in his inflection.
Summer soon ended and off to college we went- California beware, New York is in the area. Here the roommate from Imperial go... starting trouble, taking us down to Crenshaw on Sunday- and who but him with the dickies on low, chucks untied and the switches on 3 wheels and he’s starin at ya.
After all that, we start thinking that someone, somewhere, somehow is going to embody all that and more and HE is going to be the one that takes us past the coulda had a V8 moments. And we’re looking, expecting, trusting, getting disappointed, trying again, putting up their mess, having babies to keep him and what happens-here comes 30 before you even know it.
Long since passed up the one that treated us well because he was too good of a friend to date. Gave up on the college boy that was too poor to take you to the movies, got tired or writing the thug and accepting collects- still thinking that some day we are going to find that prince, that perfect mate.
Except we still aren’t ready to understand that the man we are looking for doesn’t now, nor will he ever exist. Just want to call all men dogs, stop trying to be better for ourselves and seek solace in our girlfriends just as lost as we are – none of us able to realize the point we missed.
Perfection is a fallacy that fairy tales programmed us to this was a reality to switch we were to strive. So busy looking for perfection wrapped up in a penis that we forgot that every preferred quality isn’t present in US, let alone any man that walked this earth- dead or alive.
Now we raise little girls that hear us say “men aint sh!t”, “fVck him girl” and we are better off without a man. They don’t cling to the fantasy we grew up on- rather the new age delusion that they should be independent above all else, never give an inch, that no one is worth their hand.
A new generation of females unable to distinguish between the two spectrums of our dysfunctional reality. I wonder what new twist we set them up to give their daughters and how the mistakes passed from our grandmothers to mothers to us to daughters then to them will affect their mentality.
We are messing up.
Then we hit womanhood sure that we know exactly what we want him to have do and be, all the requirements for him to be a “chick like me”.
That executive in the Armani suit that can take any boardroom by storm. Chocolate, sleek and sexy as hell- all the things that are a one up from the day to day thug- what we fall into thinking is the norm.
But we never grow out of loving that thug we crushed on walking to the corner store. He always had that edge, that swagger that made us weak- the jeans, the timbs, the fitted to the side and the stroke that would make you cut a ***** for stepping to him- even his he never was going to able to offer us more.
Then our mamas sent us to family down south hoping to get that head back on right- our focus in the right direction. And surprise- who caught out eye telling great auntie “good afternoon ma’am” as he opened the door but that model of sexiness with the gold teeth, strong back and that certain slow drawl in his inflection.
Summer soon ended and off to college we went- California beware, New York is in the area. Here the roommate from Imperial go... starting trouble, taking us down to Crenshaw on Sunday- and who but him with the dickies on low, chucks untied and the switches on 3 wheels and he’s starin at ya.
After all that, we start thinking that someone, somewhere, somehow is going to embody all that and more and HE is going to be the one that takes us past the coulda had a V8 moments. And we’re looking, expecting, trusting, getting disappointed, trying again, putting up their mess, having babies to keep him and what happens-here comes 30 before you even know it.
Long since passed up the one that treated us well because he was too good of a friend to date. Gave up on the college boy that was too poor to take you to the movies, got tired or writing the thug and accepting collects- still thinking that some day we are going to find that prince, that perfect mate.
Except we still aren’t ready to understand that the man we are looking for doesn’t now, nor will he ever exist. Just want to call all men dogs, stop trying to be better for ourselves and seek solace in our girlfriends just as lost as we are – none of us able to realize the point we missed.
Perfection is a fallacy that fairy tales programmed us to this was a reality to switch we were to strive. So busy looking for perfection wrapped up in a penis that we forgot that every preferred quality isn’t present in US, let alone any man that walked this earth- dead or alive.
Now we raise little girls that hear us say “men aint sh!t”, “fVck him girl” and we are better off without a man. They don’t cling to the fantasy we grew up on- rather the new age delusion that they should be independent above all else, never give an inch, that no one is worth their hand.
A new generation of females unable to distinguish between the two spectrums of our dysfunctional reality. I wonder what new twist we set them up to give their daughters and how the mistakes passed from our grandmothers to mothers to us to daughters then to them will affect their mentality.
We are messing up.