No more Mr. Nice Guy

[Note: I saw this on a friend's page and borrowed it because it was so profound and spoke to where I am I can definitely relate to this to a certain extent]

To every guy that regrets hurting or losing her.

To every guy who knows which girl he wants.

To every guy that’s said, “You’re beautiful.”

To every guy that was never too busy to drive across town (or across the state)( or across the country ) to see her.

To every guy that gives flowers and a card when she is sick.

To every guy who has given her flowers just because.

To every guy that said he would die for her.

To every guy that really would.

To every guy that did what she wanted to do.

To every guy that cried in front of her.

To every guy that she cried in front of.

To every guy that holds hands with her.

To every guy that kisses her with meaning.

To every guy that hugs her when she’s sad.

To every guy that hugs her for no reason at all.

To every guy who would give their jacket up for her.

To every guy that calls to make sure she got home safe.

To every guy that would sit and wait hours to see her, even if they could only spend a few minutes together.

To every guy that would give his seat up.

To every guy that just wants to cuddle.

To every guy that reassured her that she was beautiful no matter what. And honestly believed what he said.

To every guy who told his secrets to her.

To every guy that tried to show how much he cared through every word and every breath.

To every guy that thought “maybe this could be the one”.

To every guy that believed in her dreams.

To every guy that would have done anything so she could achieve them.

To every guy that never laughed at her when she told him her dreams.

To every guy that walked her to her car.

To every guy that wasn’t just trying to get laid.

To every guy that gave his heart and still has a piece missing.

To every guy who prays that she is happy even if he is not the one that makes her that way.

To every guy who doesnt care how far away she lives, and will still date her because it’s her.

To every guy who cares the most about how she feels, even when she breaks your heart.

This is one message for you…

Not many girls appreciate nice guys anymore… And because of this, there are not many left out there…

I ain’t a sucker for the nookie

I have about a 20 minute drive to and from work. In the morning, that time is used to first of all, wake up, and to get in the mindset to start my day. I spend  of that ride listening to the radio, either the Tom Joyner Morning Show, or the local station. You never know what they will be talking about from one day to another.

Thursday, the topic was sex and relationships  – a very generic discussion, but interesting nonetheless. The debate centered around how much does sex matter in relationship, or does it matter at all.

One of the morning show ladies was adamant in her opinion that before she gets ’serious’ with a man, she must have some idea of what he’s working with. To her, if she catches feelings and then, he comes up short in the bedroom, there’s a problem. She’d have a hard time (no pun intended) getting past that.  This particular day, one of the guests was a local pastor who is on the radio from time to time. He tried to get the panel to think outside of the box and understand the importance of getting to know a person and how making love spiritually and mentality can be “more appropriate alternatives”

Different strokes for different folks, I guess. Many relationships have crumbled because there was no substance, just sex. And while the satisfaction was there for oh 20-25 minutes, after that many couples have been left with a feeling of emptiness because there was nothing else to relationship.

As for me personally, I, like most guys could have sex everyday, but I don’t.  As beautiful as it is, I recognize the importance of getting to know the significant other on many different levels, not just in the bedroom. The greatest stimulation can be conversation, non verbal communication and especially non-sexual intimacy. Because you’re in tune with more than a person’s body, that enhances the sex, in my opinion. So I don’t get blinded by the nookie, you can’t get caught up.

Day26

On days when I’m bored, or really have little to nothing to do, I’ll find my high school yearbook, wipe off the dust and sift through the pages.

I’ve had this book for eight years and have basically memorized its contents from cover to cover, yet every time I look at it, it brings a smile to my face. From the “messages” written by everyone to how young we looked in the pictures, the yearbook serves as a reminder of days past and how far we’ve come in what seems like, no time at all.

I always make a point to go though the senior class portraits. Class of 2000! As I go row by row, I often wonder what each person is up to and where they are in life. I was one of the ones who left for college and didn’t look back. I didn’t keep up with many of my classmates and probably wouldn’t recognize a lot of them if I passed them on the street.

However, some of those smiling faces I see are gone now. Some have been killed over drugs, a couple have died in car accidents, others couldn’t overcome sicknesses. These smiling faces that are no longer were of people I knew a least seven years, some more. I “grew up” with them, played with them, went to class with them.

They were all my age, born in 1982.

I turned 26 today. Those friends and classmates who shared the same birthyear with me weren’t able to make it this far. Why them? Why not me?

I celebrate this birthday with thankfulness because I knew it could have been the other way, but for some reason, the man upstairs saw fit to keep me around. The 25th year allowed to experience things I never thought I would. Growth. Maturity. Struggle.

What I learn from looking through that yearbook is to not take life for granted, because one day, someone will look at a picture of my smiling face and I will no longer be here. What will they say? How will they feel. I can only hope that as I enter my 26th year, I continue to live my life in such a way that people will see something positive in me and I can be a light to someone else.

I don’t know what year 26 holds, but I ready for it and hope it’s ready for me.

Gimmie some dap!

I’m constantly amazed at how things that seem so normal and understood to one group of people can be so foreign and weird to another.

But maybe I shouldn’t be.

I grew up in an all black neighborhood, went to a high school where there were just as many, if not more, minorities than any other race in the school and I graduated from one of the most prestigious HBCUs in the country. My interaction with the lighter hue was limited to band, sports and my part-time job.

That’s how it was.  And that’s how it was for many of my friends, both black and white.

To say that we as a country have not made progress in race relations would be unfair, because we most certainly have. But there still remains a fundamental disconnect of the two cultures that I’m afraid we may never overcome. There’s a difference between acceptance of different races and having an understanding of different cultures.

The white-dominated profession I work in reveals this to me on a daily basis. My swag, style of dress and way I talk is different and at sometimes confusing to my white colleagues. On the flip side, some of the jokes, slang and everyday actions my white counterparts engage in baffles the hell out of me. Is that wrong? Absolutely not. It’s just the simple fact that different races have different cultures.

Nowhere is the cultural disconnect more evident than in the mainstream media. There are things that make the national news that just leaves me scratching my head. A perfect example occurred this past week when Sen. Barack Obama historically wrapped up the “presumptive” democratic nomination.  As Obama when up on stage to speak to the audience gathered, he and his wife Michelle greeted each other, as the always do. Only this time, as their moment of affection ended, they exchanged a fist bump. For most black folk and others familiar with the gesture, it was a touching, humanzing moment, showing that the Obama’s are not too politically correct to avoid actions that may be confusing to the mainstream eye. But never did I think it would receive the reaction it did.

Across the country, from newspapers to political talk shows, people were trying to disect and analyze the “fist bump” What does it mean? Is it a new trend? Who does it? I watched and read in amazement that this was something new to some people. To me, it was old and for the most rarely used — among my crew at least. But nonetheless, the dap, pound, bump or whatever you want to call it has been a part of the black culture for years and to see it make the mainstream news simply because a Presidential candidate does it with his wife is just plain laughable.

But I can’t blame the media totally. I can’t blame them because working in the media allows me to see the lack of diversity in newsroom and in management. As a result, there are a lack of minority voices to “explain” certain things. I know because I’ve had to speak up on several occassions to “check” some of my misinformed colleagues.

To continue to make progress, people need to be able to embrace different cultures and be willing to educate others on your traditions. It’s important not to get upset because people may not be familiar or understand something that seems to simple to you. It’s our opportunity to help each other out for the common good. So when we do this, it can help minimize the disconnect.

Just make sure you dap ‘em up afterwards.