I’ve been listening to “No Idea” by Algebra Blessett on repeat…I guess you can say ole girl has hit a nerve and has made me ask all over again…can men and women…just be friends. Here’s another oldie but goodie as I marinate on this for a second….

The first issue that we need to address is why people become friends anyway. I’d like to make the conjecture that friendship is a basic form of attraction. We’re attracted to someone for one reason or another and form a bond around that attraction. When we’re younger its usually around some similarity…like yall both can play checkers…or yall like playing tether ball…or yall both like red…you know something simple. As we mature, our friendships are hopefully based on something more emotionally meaningful.

I’m thinking about the men that I’ve remained friends with since childhood and I can’t even really remember how we became friends. All I know is that we are friends and have remained that way for what feels like years. They’re all like my big brothers and I love them for who they are…we’ve grown up together and have also grown together.

Now…I guess the next step would be to address making friends with men as an adult. It is my understanding, and this is from multiple discussion with dudes, that men are first on some level physically attracted to women based on some rubric of what they consider to be attractive and then must make a decision of whether to 1. Try to cut something 2. Wife her or 3. Place her in the homegirl category because he really has no chance in hell. Look I’m not claiming this to be 100% accurate…I’m just telling yall what I’ve been told.

I can only tell yall that as an adult…I don’t recall being attracted to more than like a couple of my homeboys that I’ve made in adulthood (over 21 years old). I think they’re all great guys, but I usually know wayyyy too much about my boys because they consider me one of the boys and they tend to reserve all that tongue biting and fu fu mess for girls that they’re tryna cut or wife. Most of my boys have told me that our friendships work because I’m not typical chick…I’m not above thinking like them…lol…whatever that means. I also (as previously mentioned in Where Not to Meet Men in Atlanta note) make a concerted attempt not to get involved with my male friends’ friends…been there, done that…I don’t believe in having people in the middle of stuff..plus there’s a strong likelihood that if they’re aces, you’re gonna see his friend again…which might not be that great..depending on how things end up.

Have I crossed the line with a friend? Once. Ok 1.5 times, but we really should dismiss that .5 because, uhm…we really should. That one time only even happened because dude was tryna disguise his intent to cut with friendship. I’m like this…if you’re honest from jump…we don’t have to play no damn games. I have to do way to much thinking on a reg to have to worry about stuff like that. Honesty will usually garner you a much better reward. Am I still friends with dude? Naw…which is sad cuz he was cool, and although we tried…hey reason…season…lifetime

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Please note that this is an oldie but goodie!

So I made it through my second attempt at the BET Hip-Hop Awards…b.k.a. Bafoonery Central. Lawd. I wasn’t paying attention the first time due to some heavy dialogue being transmitted over the numeric connect…and I can’t really say I paid attention tonight, but hey…I didn’t realize Law & Order: Criminal Intent was on…otherwise I wouldn’t have helped their ratings.

Periodically, I would stop and coo over T.I., Lil Wayne, Busta Rhymes, or The Game…admiring…their edgy presence…and having momentary daydreams about..uhm…shooting pool or something…hehehe. Anyway…the point of this note is not to make the good girls like bad guys argument…that paradox is played. I’m wondering if “bad boys” are even still relevant.

At some point while climbing the education/career ladder…and sistas if I’m wrong…pleasssse let me know…I think thugs fall off of your radar all together. Some broads (self NOT included) forget that they have even read a passage from the Book of Thugs. Hoodstars used to be fresh…a hot commodity..and the idea of being a ride or die chick…nothing topped it. Sheeeet now…$100,000 in student loan debt later…if he’s not wearing Armani Exchange or if he doesn’t know what NYSE stands for…he need not apply.

Part of me wants to say…that’s some bougie…elitist bull…while the other part of me wants to say uhm…it’s a part of evolving…and wanting better for ones self. Someone once told me that bad boys don’t go to college, but academia is not the only form of education. Everybody knows somebody that hasn’t made it through the walls of anybody’s university, but knows more about the world than we could ever image. Furthermore, academia as the be all end all is a recent idea. Don’t believe me…what college did this country’s founders go to? What law school did Abraham Lincoln graduate from? He was an apprentice to an attorney, not a Yale graduate. Prove me wrong…I’ll buy you a drink.

I’m not saying there is something wrong with being educated. Clearly, I can’t feel that way, I’m working on my second masters and preparing for the day that I will enter a Ph.D. program. I just don’t agree with using education as yet another tool for “us against them.”

My quintessential bad boy will always and forever be… Huey P. Newton..

…educated, fine, powerful…I even have a mini shrine to him and Fred Hampton on my living room wall. Now I know…I know…you can’t compare Nelly to Huey P. Newton, buy they are both clearly products of their generations.

I think this Tylenol P.M. is making me start to get off topic…so I’ll stop here, but this is my question…are thugs still relevant??

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Sisterhood is an interesting concept to me.
Extremely interesting to me.
It seems that the older I get the more it perplexes me and the more I appreciate the women in my own inner circle.

Sisterhood….

Main Entry: sis·ter·hood
Pronunciation: \-hu̇d\
Function: noun
Date: 14th century
1 a: the state of being a sister b: sisterly relationship
2: a community or society of sisters; especially : a society of women in a religious order
3: the solidarity of women based on shared conditions, experiences, or concerns

I’m a naturally friendly person…not to be confused with nice…my nice days are over. I guess it just bewilders me when cattiness is extended in my direction. I rebuke you bad energy…I REBUKE YOU. Like what the hell chick? You don’t have to do the head to toe scan and then cut your eyes at me. I’m doing me…get back to doing you. I’m in the SueZettesphere..invitiation only wench.

Uh oh…I’m being ugalee…I’m not tryna be ugalee.

Is it naive to think that every woman is going to be a friendly as I am…probably, however, home training and with just a dash of respect should be mandatory. You aren’t my competiton…homegirl…you’re my equal. Straight no chaser. I don’t want to be you…I want to empower you.

Hmmm…

The other day…I attended a meeting with some colleagues from around the community and since I’m a sit near the closest exit type of chick…I picked a table in the back. As I approached the table an older white woman greeted me with a handshake and a smile and we exchanged cheerful and casual banter about our jobs and how Atlanta wasn’t as really as big as people thought since everybody knows everybody.

A sista needed a beverage, so I excused myself to go to the refreshment table and came back to see that two young “sistas” had joined our table. I turned my smile towards them, only to have them half ass speak to me. Ok cool. I see what time it is. Fine.

A few minutes later I saw another sista in the room that I knew…I called out to her and she cheerfully replied, “Hey SueZette…good to see you…” I guess curiousity murdered the cat because the one closest to me with the sourest face turned and asked me what I did for my organization. Since I’m not one to let nann wench kill my joy…I smiled…batted my eyelashes and told her my title.

In an instance clearly marked for the “not what she said,but how she said it” file…ole girl said, “What qualifications do you have in order for you to have that position?” When I say…I know I’m a professional because… seriously part of me wanted to drown her arse in my Diet Coke…
Yo…

Never letting the smile leave my lips, although I know it had departed my eyes…I replied, “I have a M.S. in Urban Policy Studies and I’ve almost completed my M.A. in Sociology with a concentration in Race and Urban Studies.” Ole girl shut her mouth. Well not before saying…”Oh because I applied for a position with yall and I was wondering what I needed.”

I batted my eyelashes at her again and in a tone that dripped wench please said, “Oh good luck with that…we’ve got tons of positions and it’s a great organization.”

Now…I’m not into being messy…but fuggouttahere…fuggIlooklike?

Chile boo. How you burn a bridge you ain’t even sure you need to cross? Needless to say…they left at the end and didn’t even say goodbye. That’s actually not a question of sistahood…shoooot…what kind of woman are you?

Oh yeah the older white woman shook my hand and bid me adieu before we departed…

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Buying a new phone forces you to do several things, the main thing for me is typically deciding who will move on to the contacts list in my new toy and who will forever be left behind never to be called again. That sounds so dramatic. I know.

I recently got my dream phone, a Pink Palm Centro and felt a techy nerd elation, mixed with anxiety. My Treo 650 was the longest that I’d ever had a phone (almost 2 years) and my contact list was filled with people I speak to regularly, people I never want to speak to again, and people that simply ended up in my phone because saying, “Hey let me get your number so we can pretend that we’ll call each other, but we’re really not going to…” seems like a decent way to end a conversation.

Pleased with the realization that I could beam numbers from my Treo to my Centro, I slowly made my way through my contacts list…

Mom…beam

Dad…hmmm…beam

Random person, can’t remember who they are…not a winner

Break Glass In Case of Emergency guy…beam

Homegirl…beam

Homeboy…beam

Another random person, kinda remember how we met…not a winner

Ex-boyfriend…hmm…beam so this year I won’t respond “who is this” to his “Happy Holidays” text

Mu Lan’s…beam

Mr. Coulda Woulda Shoulda……beam so I don’t accidentally answer the phone because I don’t recognize the number…actually don’t beam…

Mr. Unanswered Questions…don’t beam…well…hmmm…I don’t want his number so that my touch screen doesn’t accidentally call him again without me knowing and so he won’t know that his number is still in my phone even though we haven’t spoken in 8 months…

There’s something symbolic about deleting someone’s number out of your phone. While you can’t readily delete them from existence or even from your memory; deleting them frees up .0000002k in your, phone leaving space for another to fill.

If only deleting feelings was this easy…

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So I’d be remiss if I didn’t talk about one of the most important people in my life on her birthday, my Mummy (pronounced as a Jamaican would say it and not as a Brit). Today’s Ma Duke’s birthday and as she gracefully turns 54, I am so blessed to know her and so very blessed to be her child.

Mother-Daughter relationships can be quite tricky. You spend part of your life wanting to be just like her and the other part wanting to be nothing like her. It always makes me chuckle when one of my relatives is like, “…you get that from your mother…” because as much as I may or may not want to be your mother, someday we will grow up to be at least somewhat like her.

They say mother’s raise their daughters and worship their sons. I won’t refute that, I mos def think that as a mother, you have to infuse a certain set of standards to ensure that your daughter has a successful progression into womanhood; and regardless of the good, the bad, and the ugly there is not much I’d change about the way I grew up. When I close my eyes at night I know that there is one person out there for sure, that regardless, loves me no matter what.

People tease me because at 26 there are a few decisions that I won’t make without getting counsel from my mom. She may live hundreds of miles away, but you’ve got to trust the advice of a woman that moved to the United States 33 years ago at the young age of 21 and is still here to tell the story. And while we’re currently beefing over my desire to get my nose pierced (I say I’m a free spirit, she says I’m a professional) I know that she would never lead me astray.
She is the only person that I call at 6:30 a.m. and ask her to pray with me and with no questions asked, she leads the spiritual charge for her baby girl.

As I begin to think about what kind of mother I’ll be, I know that I want my daughter to still curl up next to me at 26, the way I still curl up next to my mama. I want to fondle her hair the way my mom fondles my afro puff. And as we lay their quietly I want her to know that I’m her Mummy and that she’s Mama’s girl.

Happy Birthday!!

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Note: This post is for entertainment purposes only.

Jumpoff sounds so much nicer than cut buddy, cutty buddy, or f!ck friend doesn’t it?
A friendly term for a “friendly” set up, especially for the single sista that isn’t ready to settle down, but also isn’t ready to take a vow of celibacy.

What can I say..when I first moved to Atlanta…I was on this whole…let me wait for the right guy to come along, start a relationship, and then after 6 months we can..you know do it. That whole idea went up in smoke when a sista met Mississippi Slim in the mall. GootGawd…thinking about that now has me feeling like someone just said Mufasa. Boy a whole bunch of firsts happened during that 6 am booty call (what can I say…he worked nights). Man…I lost my Atlanta virginity and lawd….what a turbulent youth I had…LOL. Let me stop before yall think my loft was a secret hoasis or something. I’ll just say that my introduction to jump offery was a wonderful one. MUFASA!

Hmmm…I know none of yall got the shit face on right now. B.I.G. Girl lovin is on another level…you better recognize.

In the last 4.5 years I’ve learned that in order to have a successful and ideal jump-off situation you must follow a code of ethics:


Please remember there are different types of cut buddies with different codes of ethics…this is for your bottom of the barrel cut buddy relationship. Batteries sold seperately.

1. Always go to his house. Shoot…there’s power in getting up in leaving..believe that.

2. Yall do not need to be friends, shit you really don’t need to talk, unless of course you’re giving instructions

3. Text messages should be limited to “I’m on my way…”

4. B.I.G. Girls always have their own protection

5. Kissing should be minimal

6. After sex dialogue should be limited to “I’ll holla” or “See you on the flip”

7. If the sex sucked, no need to go back. Feedback is optional

8. If your phone rings, answer it and speak in a regular tone. Your reponse to you caller should be “Naw I ain’t busy’

9. There is no form of communication before 9:00 p.m.

10. His real name should never ever be in your phone. Instead he needs a nickname like “Bonecrusher,” “FaceMan,” or “Head Master”

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“But if we label this…just picture what we might lose…that unexpected kiss, the whole feelin that brought me to you…”- Bilal, from “Love Poems”

I’m not big on titles. It has nothing to do with being non-conformist either…
I just think there’s pressure and obligation that comes along with titles. Extra responsibilities for peoples’ feelings and what not. For the most part I don’t mind ambiguity as long as everyone involved is clear on what the fuzzy boundaries might be…thats so oymoronic, but ah well…

It’s funny then that for a very long time…I had a label taped to my forehead that I didn’t even know was there…emotional girlfriend..

In July of 2007 after some bull went down a male friend of mine introduced me to the concept of being an emotional girlfriend. An emotional girlfriend is defined as, “…a chick you’re not in a relationship with (and may never be)…but you share a deep and emotional connection with. She completes you in a way no other woman can, BUT you’re just not with her.”

Ring a bell for anyone else?

I have no problem being a dude’s “down ass homegirl.” I do that rather well. Platonic is cool with me because it assumes nothing.

Emotional girlfriend…I’m not feeling so much. It seems so have your cake and eat it too.
Its actually an unfair situation to be in, especially if the emotional girlfriend has feelings for her “friend” that transcends friendship.

Problems arise when said “friend” knows his homegirl has feelings for him and instead of being clear that the yellow brick road is not actually yellow, but in fact a murky white…he allows her to believe whatever.

Selfish..yes..
Callous…clearly.

Maybe this post isn’t about emotional girlfriendom, maybe it’s about honesty….
Go figure.

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I love Tyler Perry…especially since I’m really going to grow up to be Madea…lol, but something about Why Did I Get Married simply pissed me off.

I was so turned off by Richard T. Jones’ character “Mike” at the very beginning of the movie that I sat through most of it pissed off. The only reason I didn’t turn it off was because I ordered it On-Demand and didn’t want to waste my $4.99. I’m glad I saw it at home and didn’t see it while it was in the theaters, because I’m the person that talks back to the screen..you know the one that everyone hates…and I really would have yelled, “THIS IS SOME BULLISH!”

My girls are all like what the hell is wrong with me, Why Did I Get Married is like one of the best movies ever. Apparently, none of them have had a married man show interest in them lately. I’m probably just displacing my aggression about cheating ass husbands…

I actually have a pretty non-sequitur view on cheating….”no rings…no strings…no bling…no thing.” I know its so unladylike, but frankly…until you are carrying weight on your fourth finger, left hand…

Anyway, once you’ve gone before GOD and man and said…”I’se married now,” you are off the market until you:
1. Get that ish annulled
2. Get a divorce
3. Die (and technically you take a vow for eternity, so this does not count).

I don’t know when I picked up this habit, but recently before I look a man in his eyes…I look to his left hand for evidence of his bond to another woman. If I’m going to need to repent…let it be for a good sin (not that there is any sin that is good, but you know what I’m saying)… greed or gluttony…you know a low fat sin…not a straight up commandment breaker dawg!

My mother tells this story about when I was three years old and I came to her very seriously and said, “Mummy, if mon nuh love woman…dem need to get ‘vorced.” What can I say…I’ve always been mature for my age…lol. Seriously though, if you are not happy…damnit…go to counseling. If counseling doesn’t work…pray about it (clearly if prayer can’t change things…nothing can). Bringing someone else into…your drama is just…

Shit..Fantasia said it best…FREE YOURSELF!

Hmm..this dude I used to know really well got married not too long ago, and while its been a hot minute since we’ve talked, a recent chain of events put us back in touch. While I made it clear that I was aware that he was married by blatantly saying, “I heard that you’re married, congratulations..” I was quite intrigued, and very much appauled by the response he gave, “This is the worst shit I’ve ever done. I don’t get none. But I wouldn’t mind hanging out with you though.”

SKIRT ON 22s…WTF!

1. Does your wife know…that you feel this way???

and,

2. Do you think this confession of dissatisfaction with your marriage is a good segue into you kicking it with me??

FUCKILOOKLIKE!!!!

I was completely disturbed, so much so that I called one of our boys and asked, “Why did he get married???” His answer was simple and yet so heavy, “He wanted to make her happy.”

*Sigh*

To be continued

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I must admit that I love Webbie’s song “Independent.” So much so that on the morning trek to my daily grind, I can be caught riding dirty down MLK, snapping and singing along very loudly with my right index finger in the air waving…”I-N-D-E-P-E-N-D-E-N-T DO YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS…SHE GOT HER OWN HOUSE…SHE GOT HER OWN CAR…”

Independence is a beautiful thing for a couple reasons. 1.) Most of our mothers raised us with the idea that we need to be self-sufficient women that are able to hold our own in this world and 2.) There is innate beauty in ownership. Not only are we doing it for our mamas; we’re doing it for ourselves. Ownership transcends material things. Ownership also means that we are accountable for our own journeys down the path of infinite possibilities.

I truly love being mentored and surrounded by successful Black women for so many reasons. Lawd I’m about to go bell hooks on yall right quick.
And I don’t want to get heavy on that tip right now because the issue isn’t independence, its actually what some women forego in order to be independent, more specifically relationships.

What’s that saying, “You’ve got to pay the cost to be the boss…”
I don’t know why this just popped into my head, but I can hear Erykah Badu singing…”Booty”

“…Ya got the beans and rice and the hot ho cakes
But ya nigga still over here in my plate
I don’t want him
Ya got a PHD, Magna Cum Laude
But ya nigga love me with a GED
I don’t want him
You the one with all the money
And he knows my money’s funny
But I don’t want him…

….Got ya pad all decked out fa sho
But ya niggas at my door, though
I don’t want him…

….Ya know the whole 120 + degree
But you can’t keep ya guy up off his knees
I don’t want him
Got a 9-5 and a 6-10
But ya nigga told me not to work again
I don’t want him…”

I can’t figure out if its that men are actually intimidated by independent and successful women or if its an issue of needing to feel needed. Whatever it is, I just don’t get it. Especially since I want an independent man. I know one too many successful, beautiful women that want to be in relationships that are single. And as a result, they are readjusting their non-negotiables for the sake of finding someone to share their lives with.

It’s all fairly interesting…the Catch 22 that young independent, successful Black women face….damned if she does and damned if she don’t. Considering that a lot of men state that they like aggressive women….can I assume that men like aggressive women that know their “place”? Or should I say “role.”

Yes there are some of us that wear our independence like armor; we don it like we’re marching off to a battlefield, but yo it ain’t easy out here for sistas. Not only our we proving our worth as Black people, we’re proving ourselves as Black women in a capitalist society. There’s no protection of patriarchy, race, or class for us. So yo, if I leave my house looking like the Black knight…its for a damn good reason.

But just because I have mine, does not mean…we can’t build “ours”. “She” can become “we.”

This dude I know once told me, I don’t know how to let a man be a man. Quite frankily if your manhood comes at the expense of who I am in general, regardless of independence or co-dependence, I’m not feeling it. I know what things in my life I’m not willing to compromise on right now…and If love is a compromise than we need be partners in its creation. I’m not going to rub your face in what I have, but I’m also not going to act like I can’t be without you, since I know that I work my ass off for all that I do have.

I’ve had a situation that could have been so beautiful and so right, crash and burn because the young man was not comfortable with my drive or ambition. He saw it as me challenging him, and in retrospect I feel bad for him because ego and pride are a helluva drug and they will rob you blind and leave you stranded if you are not careful. What he saw as me challenging him, was me wanting better for the both of us. I however don’t live in the past and I damn sure don’t live in regret…lol.

Or maybe…I just didn’t know my role…

To be continued…

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Ok yall..can we have a B.I.G. Girl conversation???

I really wouldn’t even be writing about this if I hadn’t been debating this for the last few weeks with a couple of my homegirls…

The question is simple…What is the big deal about Magnums yo?

I’m referring to Trojan Magnum large size condoms if you’re currently clueless as to what the hell I’m talking about.

A couple of my girls and I were roaming Target when we rolled up on the the prophylactic section. As we giggled and picked out our boxes (Be Safe…Knowing is Beautiful) one of my girls said “______ uses Magnums.” I rolled my eyes picked up a box of Intense Ribbed and mumbled, ” Men can use any condoms…Magnums are simply an ego boost.”

Of course she wasn’t hearing me, proclaiming that, “HE HAS TO USE MAGNUMS.”

Right.

Wait should I have prefaced this with…while I’ve used various condoms…that doesn’t mean that I’ve had…ok…nevermind…we’re grown and I don’t need that disclaimer. Anyway…

I don’t know what it is about that golden wrapper that causes false delusions of grandeur and great expectations, but yo…this ain’t Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and that man ain’t Willy Wonka.

After seeing Ms. Oil (University of Florida alumni should be familiar with the campus’ resident sexual health educator) put her ENTIRE arm in what was probably a Durex…there is no way in hell…you can look me in my beautiful brown eyes and tell me that a Magnum is a requirement and not optional.

True..there’s very little stretch in polyurethane and ultra thins…I’ll give it to you…
But baybay..there is something to be said for skipping the gold and finding the pleasures that lie within other boxes.

Plus once you’ve seen the black and white wrapper….gold just doesn’t seem that big (hehehe).

To get some more insight into the big deal about Magnums..I decided to make a call all the way to The Czech Republic to ask a dixpert That’s right folks…I called my lil brother KT.
After getting through all the plesantries and finding out how his team was doing…I dropped it on him…

“Brother…do yall really need Magnums?”

After he laughed at what was probably an absurd question at 1am in the morning his time…he gave me the answer…I already knew…”No, we don’t…its part physical and a lot psychological….”

Do tell…

“While a brother might need it because he needs room for his partna…you know women get excited when they see that gold wrapper. Like yeah…he bout to put that thang down…”

LMAO

“And for a man it puts him in the mindset of I’m ’bout to tear this thang up.”

Oh lawd…

“But if you pull out that wrapper…you better show and prove…”

I rest my case…LMAO…

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