Random Thoughts: If I Don't Make Eye Contact, Then My Elbow Was Unintentional

1. Why the hell is it so hard for restaurants to understand that I don't want cheese on my orders? I ate at 3 straight restaurants with burgers and asked all 3 to give me NO cheese and ALL 3 gave me cheese. Hell, one gave me EXTRA cheese and the other two gave me a different kind of cheese than the one that went with the order. I DONT EAT THE ISH, OK?! Judge me all you want, but make my order correctly!

2. At almost 30 years old, the “M-bomb” no longer refers to telling a fly young lady that I went to that school on the hills in Atlanta, GA. Now? It refers to the exchanging of vows, jewelry, and a handing over of one’s testicles.

Yeah… THAT word.

I had two close homies get engaged, including Big Cuz; one of my ace boon coons get married; and three ex's (and probably around 6-10 women that I just used to smash) go down that path. I finally reached that age where I felt like "Everyone is getting married!"

No pressure though.

3. I was recently shopping in Target, looking for Twister when a particular scene in the toys section caught my eye. There was a young white boy, maybe 8-9 years old, and his mother who were looking at a variety of toys. The mom was calmly taking them off the shelves, asking him if he liked each one, then adding the ones he liked into the cart.

Did you catch that? “Ones” As in MORE than one.

That ish NEVER happened to me. Even if I wanted Q-Tips as toys, I NEVER had the luxury of being a big baller in the toy section unless I brought my own money.

Just another perk of…

4. What do YOU call the non drummette, non tip part of a chicken wing? I've only heard them called "flats" in ATL

5. There is great humor in noting how women pick up on men’s habits. Once they’ve been around you long enough, they have a pretty good idea of how you function, and ANY deviation from the “norm” is looked at as atypical – even if it’s something you SHOULD be doing! I remember cleaning up my room one day when my roommate stopped me.

“Ay, homie. You got some new poon coming through or something? Don’t clean up TOO much or your girl may suspect something!”

Damn… Good idea. Lemme put these clothes back on the floor…but in a neat pile like I’m going to wash them.

6. Do NOT tell a woman that she's unclean during her period because the Bible said so. Trust me.

7. I’d completely forgotten about my anatomical discovery!

Do you remember the piece on “The Domestic Zone”? It’s that well known but little talked about erogenous zone within the vagina that, when properly stimulated, causes women to have strong urges to cook, clean, and handle other domestic duties at odd hours of the night.

Her: Hey! Do you want some breakfast?

Him: (looks around) Now? At 5am?

Her: Oh… No, not necessarily now, but maybe later?

Him: Yeah… Breakfast would be awesome… later.

Seek and ye shall find!

8. If you have female friends, your woman will want to meet them. Somehow that makes them feel safer about the friendship. Men, on the other hand, don’t give a damn about his lady’s male friends. He doesn’t trust any of them niggas.

9. Speaking of reflections on life and how things change, one very polarizing topic for men across the ages is the menstrual cycle. My boys and I were laughing recently in thinking about how texts between us would differ about that infamous red dot depending on our age.

(
Boy 1: Wassup man? How’d it go?
Boy 2: Man, it was some BS! She’s on her period!
Boy 1: Damn… Sorry bro. That ish is GROSS

(21+ year old exchange)
Man 1: Wassup man? How’d it go?
Man 2: Dawg, she got her period!
Man 1: YES!!! Hi five!

10. I hate every single one of you people who fight to park close to the gym -  you're going to workout!

11. Black people are VERY serious about playing dominoes and playing Taboo. Stuff can get real intense.

12. If you don’t hang around many of them, you may be very surprised to hear the frequency with which professional Black women discuss kegels. It’s… (sigh)

13. You shouldn’t really be worried, but I’ve lately had really funny experiences when I’d take a nap while mildly inebriated….

Story #1: After a nap, before which I don’t remember much, I woke up to find a half bottle of Bacardi rum, a speculum (yes the ones used for pelvic exams... It was clean/unused), and two one dollar bills. …I have no good explanations for this one.

Story #2: I laid down to rest my weary, big head before going out. Before dozing off, I noted how fresh my sheets smelled. I. Was. Infatuated! I rubbed my sheets and inhaled deeply, like “OMG! These smell amazing! Did I wash these recently?” I can’t say the smell didn’t help me sleep better. I woke up 45 minutes later, and the first thing I saw was the box of Bounce fabric softener 6” from my nose.

Alcohol is a helluva drug…

14. Dallas BBQ, I will miss thee. Not just for the food or the drinks but mainly because of the discussions that the atmosphere really facilitated. The most recent example involved a discussion on open marriage. The general consensus was interesting.

Ultimately the answer was somewhere between "no" and "yes... with a small caveat." Basically all men would be ok with being with other women. Half of us would NOT be ok with our woman being with another man. A quarter of that remainder would be ok with her being with someone else. And the rest would allow her to be with other men so long as she understood we would desire her much, much less. As in not at all.

15. What happened over the last 10-15 years that made "the sag" so much more dramatic? When it first became popular, it was simply a good portion of underwear showing, but the topic was still above the mid-ass point. Niggas now sag to just above the knees now, with the nerve to wear shorts to cover up the draws - Nigga WHY?!

16. I had an Indian cab driver the other day (as in from India but who still refers to Native Americans as such?) who was on the phone (yes, despite that big black sign that says they shouldn't be) ordering chicken tika. I should've asked him which restaurant he ordered from. When people of a particular ethnicity go to a restaurant that sells their native foods, you can usually gauge that it's legit. That's for sure how I pick my Asian food (and not just by how many Southeast Asians work there). You'll never see Mexicans ordering Taco Bell and you'll damn sure never see me eating fried chicken from Sylvia's...again.

17. I feel sorry for women sometimes, especially the single ones. Men can often put you in a catch 22 situation from jump. We may come at you with some hard game with the intent of getting the panties, only to turn around and not take you seriously and question your decision making abilities because you fucked with us.

18. Why do men in tight shirts or skinny jeans roll in crews? Seriously, you rarely see one by himself. They're like ants.

19. Tracey Edmonds must have that good-good... What old celebrity hasn't been with her? Hopefully not Magic Johnson... :-/

20. There is a strain of marijuana in Cali called "Whitney Houston OG Kush" because "it's that KILLER!"

Way, way, way too soon, fellas. Way too soon.

I Can't Wait to Talk to My Son...

First of all, let me make it clear that I have no children, and I’m in no hurry to make any!


Now that I’ve said that, let’s get to my point.


I can’t wait to have children (read: sons… cause I do NOT want daughters). I think seeing what a little version of me would look like, act like, take interest in – all those things. I can definitely foresee many ass whippings and chewing outs for doing something stupid, but I also foresee many instances to teach, to play, and for sure to love. While I can only imagine how different his generation will be, with regards to technology, social issues, and other important matters, I’m CERTAIN that he will encounter one issue every man in my family before him encountered: The futile attempt to understand women.


(sighs) I can see it so clearly.


I can imagine him finally breaking the ice and divulging his interest in some cutie in his English class with really nice hair (not necessarily “good” hair, for the self hating out there), a pretty face, a nice tail – I’m certain my son will be an ass-man between my influence and that of his many “uncles” – and a sparkling personality. I can imagine hearing his thoughts on ways to impress her or catch her eye, of course in some respectable boy-in-love fashion, hopeful and certain that it will surely work. And because I’m a huge proponent of learning by doing (and because Schadenfreude is AWESOME), I’m gonna push him to do all those things and try them out and GUARANTEE that they’ll work.


And yes, I’m going to laugh my ass off when it doesn’t.


I can totally see him coming home, dropping his backpack to the ground like his life force had been sucked from him, his eyes unable to look upwards toward the heavens or his father, red and bulging from the tears fighting to escape his eyes, unable to talk.


“Daddy…” he’d say in a frail, defeated tone.


I’d probably have to punch myself in the chest to remind myself that he’s actually hurting and wouldn’t appreciate my being humorous at the moment.


“Yes, son?” I’d say as calmly and lovingly as possible.


“She… She didn’t like it. She doesn’t like ME. She said I was ‘too nice.’ That she sees me as ‘husband material.’ She only likes me as a ‘friend.’”


He’d flop down beside me on the couch, head still hanging, a solo tear running down his chin like a slave toward freedom.


“Dad… I don’t understand women.”


I’d lean over and put one arm around his shoulder to pull him closer and punch him in the shoulder with the other free hand, smiling at my son’s coming of age.


“Son… I don’t either. But your realizing that is the first step to becoming a man.”


He’d sniffle and wipe his eyes, probably ashamed to let his father see his weakest moment.


“What should I do, Dad? What do you know about women?”


Dammit. The worst possible question to ask an older man… but a great opportunity to spread personal beliefs.


“I don’t know much, son, but I do know these things…”


1. Accept that you are always in the wrong. Always. Will your arguments be sound? Probably – you’re my son. Will her arguments be very emotional and not sound? Not always, but more often than not, yes. But you’ll still be wrong. And at some point you won’t even care about being right. You’ll just want peace, which usually amounts to getting her to shut up.

2. When you need your woman to be somewhere at a certain time, lie to her. Tell her an earlier time because she’s going to be late. If she needs to be somewhere at 730, tell her you have to be there by 630 so she’ll be ready by 7. Why can’t she be on time? I don’t know. But much like #1, that won’t matter.


3. Accept that Yes/No questions are NOT acceptable. They won’t understand that the answer should be one of those things.

Man: Baby, are you hungry? Do you want some pizza?

Woman: Why? What are you going to eat?

Man: … I’m going to eat pizza. Do you want some?

Woman: I don’t know. Didn’t we have pizza two months ago?

Man: Baby, just tell me if you want the damn pizza or not.

Woman: Why are you cursing at me?

Man: Nevermind. Get your own damn food.

4. Which leads me to my next point: Women have an essential, maddening need to argue. About everything. Often. You have to argue or be upset to show her you care. Sure, you could just be happy, but that wouldn’t do it for her. You’ve gotta raise your voice, throw shit around, slam doors, and curse to make her feel loved. I personally understand this the least of all these things on the list.

5. And if you listen to none of these previous things, you must take heed to this next one: Never, ever, ever talk about other women around your woman of interest. Women are super competitive creatures and she will ultimately lead you into a comparison conversation that you will absolutely lose. Unless you lie to her.


6. Avoid lying to women...unless you're lying to make sure she's on time for something. You’ll have to at some point to save your ass, but try to avoid lying to them.

I know he won’t take it all in at that moment. I’m sure that when I look down to see if he’s listening, he’ll have already left to his room long ago. I’ll just laugh to myself, look over to my wife on the other side of the couch, who’ll likely be mean-mugging the hell out of me, and continue watching tv.

But in my heart, I’ll hope he learned something.

Trayvon Martin: An All (African) American Experience

In the age of  “Trending Topics” on Twitter and the infinite “shared items” on Facebook, it’s easy for a potentially big story to pass you by, especially if you’re one of those people who has the misfortune to be friends with or to follow someone who posts long streams of nonsense or celebrity gossip. I was among those ranks when I passed over the story of Trayvon Martin days ago. The fact that I hadn’t heard of him prior to then didn’t necessarily alert me to the possibility that maybe this story was something atypical and worthwhile. I instead erred on the side of assuming it was another rapper or rap group – do you know how long it took me to figure out Travis Porter was a group? – that I hadn’t heard of and didn’t want anything to do with this new movement. Unlike most other pop culture trends, Trayvon’s name didn’t go away. If anything, I began seeing it on CNN, Yahoo News, and the New York Times, and it made me pause, click, and read.

About 30-60 seconds into reading his story, I kinda laughed to myself and shook my head.

Back in the summer of 2005 while roaming the rugged streets of New Haven, Connecticut, I was struggling to come up with a topic or angle to take for my upcoming personal statement to medical school. I’d already written a typical, autobiographic piece that talked about who I was, where I was from, and why I wanted to pursue medicine, one that made the writing instructor who was helping me with this endeavor shake his head and tell me “Go deeper, more personal. Tell them something important about YOU.” After about two more weeks of thinking and throwing around ideas, I had an argument with a close friend that led my very tangential and circumspect mind to crank out the rough and final draft of my personal statement, which addressed who I was at the very core of ways to define me, both for myself and for others:  I wrote about how I was the “big Black man” to most people who saw me and the ramifications of that in my life.

Not surprisingly, when I let other people read it, it made them uncomfortable. They used words like “very strong” and “very personal” but many who edited it, all of whom were college professors, felt that it would leave people feeling bad or guilty for being able to relate to the stories I told in my statement. The writing instructor, a large, elderly Polish man, said himself, “I LOVE this piece and want to share it with my class, but you’ve really got to ask yourself if you want to send out something SO personal that it makes people uncomfortable.” I respected his honesty as well as the honesty of the others who gave me input prior to my uploading and submitting my piece, but I felt that this story told who I was best while also selling how dedicated I would be as a clinician.

I was a 21 year old biology student with a 3.87 GPA, >95th percentile MCAT score, wearing a Yale School of Medicine sweatshirt the first time I was deemed “suspicious looking.” The next time was at age 27 when I was looking for a doctor’s office and an office worker, who couldn’t see my Columbia University student badge, called security to ask me what I was doing and where I was going since I seemed to be looking around for something and looked “suspicious.” Imagine their shock when they realized I was a student. Chances are, if you talk to any Black man, be he highly educated at an Ivy League institution or a 17 year old boy simply walking from a convenience store with Skittles for a sibling, you’re likely to find that he has at least ONE story about being labeled “intimidating” or “suspicious” for no reason other than he is Black. If you spoke to a Black woman, she may tell you about being asked if she were a prostitute or described in a whorish fashion just because she is shapely and Black – it’s not always correlated to how she’s dressed either. My Hispanic, Asian, and Middle Eastern friends would all have similar stories about some stereotyped harassment that they’ve endured simply by being in a particular place at a particular time, which is to say a large part of the population in the US has experienced some type of racial discrimination in their lifetime. Having accepted this as fact, why is it that we STILL have not as of March 20, 2012 had an HONEST discourse about the role of race in American society? We’ve been ok with avoiding being “uncomfortable” for far too long. Trayvon is just one of numerous instances we all can name in the past 10 years alone where race was clearly (or at least likely) the sole motivating factor behind something heinous, be it a judgment, a charge, or an assault. We are burying people and imprisoning people for life, many times unjustly so, because of their race…but we’re too afraid to talk about it. This has to stop, people.

Next to the election of President Barack Obama, the most inspiring thing I’ve seen in my adult life was the movement that took place when banks wanted to start charging clients a fee for using their debit cards. The airwaves and Facebook and Twitter came to life with people outraged about this BS the banks were trying to pull on people, and people ACTED on it. They threatened to leave, to do something that would directly harm the cause of something ridiculous being forced upon them. They mobilized and took a stand and WON. Think about it:  How long after introducing the idea of charging for debit use did people effectively get it eradicated? But we won’t talk about and address race, something that’s affected many more for much longer with bigger ramifications than a monthly charge? This is ridiculous. We’ve gotta take action. We’ve gotta talk. We’ve got to protest. We’ve got to do more than put up a poignant Facebook status or support an ailing family with a hashtag. We’ve got to do more than sign a petition with no power or watch the news and voice our anger to those we know feel the same we do. We’ve gotta do MORE and SOON before this country erupts in a very violent way like it does in all other great civilizations, just before their downfall.