...average urban negro

11.16.2006 // 6:34 pm


I am tryin so hard to be openminded and optomistic when it comes to affairs of the heart, but the more I experience the more I begin to wonder if I was meant to be in a relationship at all -- committed or otherwise.

Coal and I have a casual thing going. It's open, no strings, and still very young (only nine months) but there are moments when I really, really dig him. Like those times when I feel really free... not constrained or limited at all... like I can just be myself and have that be the flyest shyte in the world to him. Then there are those times when he tells me things no one else knows. He gets this look on his face like he's not sure if he should tell it... kinda anxious... a lil nervous. It never lasts long, though. He always tells me. And after he does, he looks light... like he feels better to get whatever it is off his chest and know it'll stay with me. That's the kinda shyte that makes me smile. That's his sexy! Then there are other moments; moments like today, when I just wanna quit his ass.

What's upsetting me isn't anything terribly major so part of me is sittin here and like, "Mac, you trippin. It aint that serious." Unfortunately, that don't change the fact that I'm mad right now. So, oh well. What's funny is that I don't even think I'm mad at him, per se. I just wish I could meet someone genuinely different... not so fuckin predictible. I mean, initially, I liked him, because he wasn't like all the other men in the building. Today, though, when he didn't see me, and he thought it was just him and the other men folk, he did something that made him come off so regular... so average... so fuckin unsexy.

This chick walked in the buildin and he checked her out her butt. Big whoop. He's a dude. They do that. But there was just something about the way he did it that was just... I don't know. That mess just irked me. This is the funny part though...

Coal didn't see me watchin (or so I thought), but as soon as I saw what he did, I just got this funny feelin, like it was real important that he not know that I saw, and more importantly, that it bothered me. (Flaky ass Macdiva bullshit circa 2004) So once I peeped it, I just looked away and started fiddlin with a hangnail. ( Um hmm... I know... 007 aint got shyte on me. The old "hangnail fiddle technique" throws em everytime, ri?) Anyway, he then walks right up to me -- I'm assuming to make some sort of point-- and asks, "somethin' wrong wit ya finga?" wit a 'tude! A who, a what, and a huh?? Why are you askin me bout my finga when you obviously know I saw you check out some chick? Are you trying to start drama? Why not just say nothing... take the high road... spare us both the embarassment... make up for your lack of subtlety with a little bit of consideration, albeit an afterthought. I know why. Because he's exactly what I feared... that one ever present being I can not seem to eliminate from my cypher no matter how hard I try. He's a master of disguise and a wordsmith to be reckoned with. He looms ominously in the shadows waiting for a moment of weakness (or madness) to stake his claim on what's left of my pink fleshy heart. It's him... I know it is... the dreaded...

Average Urban Negro

*SiGh*... here we go again.



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