And THAT Makes You Unfuckable

I've been thinking lately about a few things, and I've decided that I should put together a list of things that make a guy unfuckable. I didn't plan to share this, but Next ended up having some characteristics that I just couldn't fool with, so I decided to nip it in the bud, before I got too caught up (*high five* to me for seeing the signs and cutting it short before it got too deep). Anyway, here are the top ten things that make a dude unfuckable to me. This list is based on stuff that I've dealt with personally and some of the things my homies have gone through. These really aren't in any particular order. Feel free to add your own in the comments section.


10. Bad hygeine. No matter how good looking a guy is, if he smells like butt, he doesn't have a shot in hell of getting a woman's real first name, let alone getting the panties. Deodorant, mouthwash, soap, and a clean hair are important. Your mama may love you if you smell like a pig's ass, that chick in the club with the big knockers you're trying to get at? Not so much.

9. Unable to hold a good conversation. I hate it when I'm having a good time and telling funny stories and a guy just can't keep up. A guy should also be remotely familiar with the news. There is no reason for a grown ass man to not know who the vice president is. You don't have to know who the speaker of the house is (extra cootchie points if you do though) but at least have some damned clue about who and what runs the country.

8. Priding yourself on being stupid. Okay, this one is a continuation on the last one. Some guys are stupid, but it's a whole new thing when he's proud of his sense of stupidity. If someone thinks its a sign of greatness that he can't name a single Elton John song or that he hasn't picked up anything to read since Clinton was in Office (and when he did read, it was only XXL magazine), it's time to put your panties back on and send him home.

7. Being a known hoe. Your boys might think it's great that you'll stick your dick in anything with a pulse, but women really aren't trying to hear that mess. Only pro athletes and highly successful rappers can get away with being easy. If you are willing to screw a chick, but you wouldn't be caught dead talking to her in public, for fear that someone you respect and want to impress may see you, you are not a pimp. You are not a mack. You are not "the man." You are a HOE.

6. Kids you have that you don't claim. So what, you had sex with a chick whose a hideous beast and world class bitch. Well, dude, that's your own damned fault. It's not the child's fault that you hate their mama, man up and take responsibilitly. No woman would want to risk a broken condom with a known sperm donor.

5. Living with your parents. Now, I'm not suggesting that all women are gold diggers so a man has to be living in a mansion for us to get with him. Many women are more than understanding that times are tough and sometimes we have to make sacrifices and do things that we don't like, such as downsizing in order to save money. (If that's the case, extra points if you take us to a nice hotel to get it on). But if you stay at your parents house and all you do is smoke weed and play Xbox all day, there is nothing we can do for you, nor you can do for us. What kind of woman would want to fuck you on your mama's couch?

4. A filthy apartment or car. Underwear in the middle of the damned floor, ants, forks stuck to the plates on the floor, mold in the refrigerator. What is that smell?! When was the last time this fool vacuumed or cleaned out the freaking toilet?! You want a woman who loves you no matter what, but only some low class broad with no standards would sleep with you in a nasty house. In the end, women think that if your house isn't clean, neither is your butt.

3. Omitting information that you know we'd want. Yes, we want to know if you slept with someone in our immediate family or close friend. Yes we want to know if you've got an incurable STD, or if you're trying to get us to come home with you, be up front and let us know if you share a bedroom with your little brother (enter #5). Yes, we also want to know if you slept with someone that we hate (you slept with that bitch?! Jesus Christ, how low are your standards?!) I've always been a fan of being honest, because the truth will always come out eventually. It's not worth the drama it will cause if the truth comes out later without you telling us first.

2. No job, no plans, no education, no future. No chance. When you're 18, no one really expects you to have a clear plan for where you want your life to go. However, when you're damned near 30, nobody is hearing that crap. Dude, get off the couch. Feed the homeless, go to school, find a job, go for a jog, read a book, write a dang book, just do something! It's so frustrating to see a man with so much potential waste his life and give up before it even started. And then that bum will want you to sit home on the couch with him and waste your damned life too just because he's got no ambition. Ladies say it with me "No, thank you."

1. Being a liar. God, I hate liars. Liars assume that everyone around them is stupid, which is irritating on so many levels. No, you're not ceo of a major company. No, you're not a platinum selling rapper. No, you're not secretly rich. No, you're not a Ph.D. Jesus fucking Christ, just tell the goddamned truth already. Women aren't stupid, despite what men have to tell themselves to make it through the day. Because women are notoriously and stupidly compassionate, most men could still get ass (it would be sympathy ass, but hey, tail is tail) if they admitted to how pathetic their existences really are.

On Sharing What I've Learned

Pookie and I have been kicking it for nearly 4 years now, so needless to say, we've become quite familiar with each other's families and situations. Pookie has a cousin that kicked it with a girl I'll call Sherita. Sherita and I took to one another like glue. She's so nutty and naive that she reminds me of myself. That being said, we've forged a bit of a friendship over the years and she's become a tad like a little sister to me.

Sherita recently called me to complain that Pookie's cousin has taken up with a skank and despite she and the cousin remaining close friends he tries to play Sherita to the left while his new chick is around. Suddenly the new broad is contacting Sherita and telling her to leave dude alone. When Sherita calls him, if the chick is around, he'll forcefully tell her to beat it, only to call her back begging and pleading once his girlfriend is gone. When Sherita called me to complain that the chick is making things hard and that she loves him and only wants to be friends (bullshit) I told Sherita point blank to let his ass go.

Sherita saw no point in letting him go. She feels that she was with the cousin first and she should be a priority. I explained to her that no matter how many couldas, wouldas, and shouldas, she could come up with, it was a lost cause. I told her point blank that despite what my ex would tell his pill popping slut, he and I both knew that he had a real love for me. But it took me 10 years to finally see how full of shit he truly was and is. I told Sherita that she didn't want to be with a man that couldn't show loyalty to any one woman (the fact is, he's playing both of them), either his girlfriend or his "homegirl." Sherita had so many reasons that she should hold on. Their history, their love, their deep friendship, their long conversations. I told her straight up that all of that meant nothing if he wasn't man enough to be honest with his girlfriend about Sherita's friendship.

It wasn't until that conversation that I realized that perhaps I truly have learned a little about love and relationships from my ordeal with my ex. Now that I've had time to digest things and sit back and reflect, I'm that much more thankful that I have been able to move on and find a new love. No, I'm not loving another man, I'm learning to truly love myself first.

Moving on, this past weekend, Pookie and I went to Middle Georgia to his uncle's surprise birthday party. I had a great time getting to hang out with the family. While there, I ran into the girlfriend of another cousin (Cousin 2). She and I had actually met a few years ago at the birthday party of Pookie's baby cousin. She was his new girlfriend and since I was pretty new to the clan, I knew to fall back and let my questions answer themselves. I could tell that they (the women in the family) weren't too fond of her for one reason or another. She came in with an infant in her arms (not his child) and she remained silently on the couch after being announced and saying her hellos. I hated to see her sitting by herself, so I made it a point to talk to her and try to help her feel comfortable. She was only 19 and had 2 children (neither of them were his). From there I could understand why she may not look like a prize to the women in Cousin 2's family. But from where I stood, she struck me as a humble, loving, and sweet girl. She even called me ma'am even though I was only 8 years older than her. I'd wondered how she'd been since then.

When I ran into her at the party, I told her that it was good to see her and that I was glad she'd stuck around. Although I have no idea how Cousin 2 would be in a relationship, I know firsthand that despite being very loving and open, the women in Pookie's family are protective of their men (as most women are of the men in their families). She told me point blank that Cousin 2 wasn't holding up his end of the relationship and she's frustrated as hell because he doesn't do or take care of shit. I took a long sip of my margarita and told her to dump his ass. Even though I consider Pookie's relatives my in-laws despite us not being married (which would kind of make Cousin 2 like my cousin) I looked her square in the eye and told her that if after 2 years he still isn't making her happy, to let his ass go. Dammit, that was a good margarita. Anyway, she said how much she loves him and blah blah blah. I repeated to let him go. Cousin 2 is a talented artist and she wants to move to Atlanta for herself and for his career, however dude doesn't want to move with her. She thinks that if she makes the trip solo, he'll try to move in with her, while leaving her to carry the financial burden (damned if that didn't sound familiar) and stress of handling the move alone. I told her again to let it go. I even told her that if she wants to come visit Atlanta and see the city to check on moving here, she's always welcome on me and Pookie's couch. She remained nervous, but in love. I could see in her eye that she wasn't going anywhere (not now at least).

I recalled to her that I spent 10 years trying to make a man love me. A man that no matter what, he'll never remotely love any woman (not even his mama) as much as he loves himself. That fool isn't even that involved in his daughter's life. And while Pookie is most certainly an upgrade from my ex, he still isn't capable of fully giving me the love I want and deserve. Which is why I'm moving out. And I couldn't be happier with that.

For a long time I'd wondered why my life had to be so hard. I've always been loving and loyal. I've always been outgoing and easily made friends. So what the hell did I do to deserve some of the shit I'd been through? I'd even tried to kill myself once and seriously wanted to a few times after that. No matter what I'd had in mind, the higher power chose to keep me here. But now that I have a job where I work with troubled children, I see that much of it happened to me for a reason. I can talk to a kid for 10 minutes and get inside of their head. I know what they want and how they think and what they need. One of my girls is 17 and she's dealing with a guy that was a lot like my ex (and he was her first, just like my ex was my first). I want so bad to head her off at the pass so she doesn't waste a decade of her life loving a man with a shitload of issues the way I did. I'd always hoped that the crazy stuff I went through could eventually be used to help other people in trouble.

It looks like I'm finally getting my wish.

Fear

There aren't too many things I fear other than moths and mushrooms. I don't fear death, I don't fear rejection, I don't fear failure (as evidenced by the many poor decisions I've made in my life) but there is one thing that makes my heart nearly stop beating.

The other day I took one of my kids to Georgia State University, where she wants to enroll as an undergrad student and I want to enroll as a grad student. We had a great time talking about how awesome her life will be once she graduates high school in a few weeks. I enjoyed recalling the fun my friends and I had the summer after I graduated high school. Then I looked at her and told her that I'd like to come to her graduation, but I simply can't. She urged me to and said how much she'd enjoy having me there. I thought about it. It seemed pretty cool and I'd love to be there to cheer her on. I told her that I might be able to make it after all.

Once I dropped her at home, I started to think about it even more. I started to think about that day. A day that has remained the worst day of my life. A day that started out as the happiest, suddenly became the most tragic.

The day I graduated high school was a warm June day. I remember my all white outfit, down to my ugly white Payless shoes. I actually found myself looking back on my high school years and thinking that no matter how much I said I wouldn't, I actually would miss high school. After the ceremony I anxiously went to meet my family so that we could go eat. I went out into the aisles of the church and I saw them. My little sister looked at me and said "Malika, Tracey's dead." That's it. No "we need to talk" no waiting, no warning, no asking me to sit down first. I looked at her, my dad, and at the time, my dad's girlfriend and said "don't play like that, that's not funny." I searched their faces for answers. Was Tracey there and they were playing an awful prank on me? My stepmother's face was blank as was my father's. I misinterpreted his blank look as a smirk and said again "Seriously, that's not funny." My father looked up and said "she didn't get enough insulin." I ran and found a pew in the church. I threw myself down and cried. I bawled and screamed at the top of my lungs. My cousin was gone. My best friend. The woman that I'd shared so much time with over the last few years. And she was gone. My friend Talicia and I bummed a ride home with someone else. I was in shock. I remember how I kept repeating that my cousin was dead. She was buried a week later, June 19, 1998, the day before my 18th birthday. So many people get to laugh and hang out for their 18th birthdays. I was in New Jersey for a funeral.

I still think back on that period often. I find myself thinking that if only I'd put more energy into inviting Tracey to my graduation, she'd still be here. Tracey had moved to New Jersey slightly before that, and I'd called one day to check on her. Her mother told me that she was in Georgia, to my surprise. I called the number she gave me and I left a message for Tracey to call me back. I never heard back from her. My graduation was a few weeks later. I get so angry at myself because all I can think is that I was chasing after my ignorant boyfriend, David, who I hate now. I was so busy worrying about him and his foolishness that I didn't even put any real effort into inviting Tracey to my graduation. And now she's gone. If only I'd called more. Even one more time, she might still be here. To explain my thoughts, Tracey died after she and her boyfriend were staying in a motel and they got into an argument. He choked her and left her. She died that night/morning. If only I'd called her, we probably would have arranged for her to stay the night at my house and she'd still be here. She would have lived to watch her daughter grow up. But instead Tracey's gone because I didn't think....

I went to my cousin Ali's college graduation a year after mine. I was a wreck. I cried the whole time. Something about seeing those caps and gowns took me back to that day. After that, I swore that I'd never attend another graduation. I feel that it's unfair for me to ruin someone else's day with my own issues. I was surprised my mother even let me skip my little sister's graduation.

On the way home from my friend's home after we discussed her graduation, for the first time ever, I thought I might be okay with graduations again. But then I relived that day all over again. As I drove home tears ran down my face as I asked myself for the millionth time why I didn't try one more time to call Tracey.

No, I won't be attending her graduation.