Maybe this one won’t be as long as the previous, and hopefully it won’t sound as needy and/or pathetic. Either way, I’ve been playing with my new Sidekick II and now I have a game boy cramp.

I’m an Anti-dater. I say that because I don’t date, I have nothing against the act of going out on dates, but when it comes to me and my love/fuck-life I just don’t do it. Like most in my lifestyle I’ve been doing the Fuck Four-Step: Meet, Greet, Skeet & Delete. And like a bad porno flick, there’s no substance and rarely any satisfaction, all I need is a rippled 8-pack and my dick to be twice as long and I’d be set.

Recently I’ve been attempting to go against my mold, by putting myself out there and trying to legitimately date. Of course I been failing miserably and there’s a just cause: I have no game and I try to be myself. Since the Summer of 2004, I’ve went out on a total of 8 dates. Out of those 8 tries, six of them were essentially the same the only difference was the other person and probably my draws. An overwhelming 75% of my dates acted, asked, and did all the same things. Here’s a simple breakdown of what came out of their mouths:

“Ooh, You have a nice place…”
“What do you do?”
“So you be makin dem big dollas?”
“Why are you single?”
“You’re too cute to not have somebody…”
“I know you must be a playa, that quiet shit is all game. ”
“What do you like to do?”
“Just so you know, I don’t have a gag-reflex…”
“Damn, that shit feels so good, you a freak…”
“Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me…”

You get the point hopefully and there were no exaggerations. Now before I get called all kinds of a hoe, even though six niggas tried to get on my piece, I only two managed to succeed, two only got a taste and other two… well I’ll talk about them later. I’m a guy and no matter how progressive I try to be, I still think with the not so little head. They offering out ass like AOL CDs and I take it like an idiot. And of course while I’m handling business I lose any connection I had with them, any intrigue or interest I had during the conversations, dinner or movies is now sitting in the bottom of a Magnum. Even though I have no real attention span outside of Kung-fu movies, cartoons and Apple Computers, its can’t be the blame for what happened. I did nothing half-ass and I went out with an idea that myself is a good. Essentially I’m accused of running game and I get Astro-Glide stains in my comforter. I need to learn how to say “NO.”

For the ones that didn’t become a statistic, they’re weren’t any better but they had potential, well not really. One didn’t know whether or not he was staying in the Midwest and kept saying that he didn’t want a relationship if he was going to left. Essential if anything was going to happen, it would have been over before it even started. So emotionally I moved on, he never moved and now he misses me. The other person needed to be the center of the universe and I have too much shit going on to be revolving around somebody. Maybe I need to be something else from now on.

I’m not going to apologize for not being around, I really did not have much to say. Well I did have something to say, I just couldn’t formulate the right words. I guess thats a continuing problem I have; “Inability to say what’s wrong.” But I digress.

Saturday morning, I found myself unable to sleep. I was sitting at my desk watching the end of some war movie with Bruce Willis and at some point I lost all composure and cried. It wasn’t the movie that made me cried and I really can’t say why, yet.

So,I was straight up bawling’ for a minute or two. So I’m sitting there, a grown ass, six foot two, 245 pound black man crying like a big pussy.

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I’m a quiet/shy guy, always have been and probably always will be. It’s who I am. Being quiet, I tend to internalized my problems, issues or anything bad that happens to me. A fine woman tells me that she wouldn’t date me because I dark, it’s my fault. Some nigga with a fatty wouldn’t give me any play saying I was too big, again it’s my fault. I almost die at work and I don’t sue or seek damages, I get talked about like a idiot, still it’s all my fault. I let all this shit build up and say that it doesn’t bother me, which it really doesn’t. (After awhile you really do start to believe your own lies.) It gets to a point where I mentally and physically break down. The last time was in December 2001, I was pledging Sigma and moms was forcing me to pay bills I couldn’t afford on my paycheck. School was kicking my ass and I had a ulcer from the stress. Twenty-one years old and I had a fucking ulcer, I’d would wake up every morning at 3am like clockwork and be in absolute pain. So the point I couldn’t take any more I was on Pledge line with some neophyte spouting bullshit at me. I look him straight in the face and said “Step the fuck, outta my face!” I proceeded to get my things and left. The next day I told my moms that I wasn’t paying her bills anymore and crawled into bed for most of the Christmas break.

Don’t feel bad for me, because it doesn’t matter and I really don’t care. (A defense mechanism)

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I haven’t cried since my accident. I cried not because I thought I was going die. I’m not afraid of dying… but I’m afraid of not being remembered. Sometimes I get upset that I have sex with men. My mom can accept the fact that she won’t be getting any grandkids from me, but I can’t. Internalizing that I’ll never get married, I’ll never have children that I won’t be happy, that I would make my mom happy. Again it’s all my fault. I hear about all my cousins popping out kids from my mom, and I know she loves me regardless but I know she’s disappointed. Secretly I want a wife, a loving woman to be by my side be my strong moral support, my back bone. I want kids, kids that look like me, calling me “daddy” with their brown eyes and big cheeks that get from me.

I can’t have any of that. Why? Because I’m an ass-fucking faggot, an abomination and a nigger to boot. I’m twenty-four years old and I feel that I haven’t done anything worth while in my life and I broke down. This past Saturday, I cried for things I can’t have in this world, I cried because I hate an aspect of my own life, and I cried because it was all my fault.

I just got some bad news not too long ago. My little brother, Tracy, mom passed away last Wednesday. She was only 40 years young.

My lil’ bruh is literally beside himself and doesn’t know if he’s strong enough to be there for his family. I need everyone to join me in praying for him. I know Tracy is can be strong even if he doesn’t believe it himself.

Well y’all know how niggas get about getting free shit and I’m no exception. For the last 3 weeks I’ve been posioning my body with diet soda (I gave up sugar this year) and been collecting little bottle caps like the one pictured. So far I have 9 “Buy One, Get One Free” caps and 12 “Free Songs” which is all fine and dandy but the problem remains, what the fuck am I gonna get? I’m fickle as hell when it comes to decision. If you ever seen me shop for something, its horrible. I go back and forth debating to get a pair of draws or a DVD. It’s a sad ass sight.

Anyway, if anyone has any music suggestions let a brutha know. I’m open to most genres and it has to be available on iTunes.

Oh… BTW, fuck Napster!

Its been a year since the accident and I just want to take some time to reflect on life. Use everyday to thank God that you have another 24 hours to spend on his beautiful planet. Tell your family and friends that you love them and don’t wait to the last minute to show that you care. We all don’t have that much time here so live well and live strong because it could be gone before you know it.

Its been a minute since I’ve done one of these and I know I’mma get heat for this… oh well fuck it, I didn’t need any friends anyway.

Choir Fag

-(noun) 1. A homosexual of African descent or African-American ancestry who uses a church choir, usually gospel, to showcase their inability to sing by going into a soprano range. 2. A gay black male singing within a church choir.

Examples:
1. -”Miss Jenkins, who is that singing in the choir in falsetto and off key?”
-”Lord bless him… chile, he’s some choir fag with no common sense.”

2. -”What happened with you and ya boy?”
-”We haven’t talked since he invited me to his church”
-”Ohh… A choir fag, huh?”
-”Yeah, nothing makes my penis go soft faster then seeing a grown-ass man singing in falsetto.”

I know I haven’t been around. For last few weeks I’ve been working on my other blog. I know thats a blasphemer thing to say “Other Blog” but not long ago I figured that I wanted something that my family can go to and read. And as accepting as my folks are I don’t think they would be cool with reading bout Internet hook ups or any torrid little details I may have here.

Its been two weeks and Ive been getting the layout all done and about to upload my resume when it hits me. I’m going back to living a double life. Do I really want to go back to the duality of “Corporate-friendly Anthony” and “Tony from Indiana?” Maybe this is what I HAVE to do. This may suck a lot, or I could pull it off without any problems. I guess time will tell.

Anyway… I think I need to change up my theme. I’m tired of it already.