We (women) go on and on about how you can’t trust a man. You’re always suspicious of the things he would do or say because you have this unsettling feeling that he’s doing some shit he shouldn’t be doing. You cry, complain and cuss because you feel he has no regard for your feelings. You bring up your issues with the lack of trust you have in the relationship. He hears what you have to say, but isn’t really listening. He knows whatever you’re saying is just some emotional thing you’re probably going through. At this point he has a lack of trust also. He doesn’t trust your feelings.
I’ve heard this time and time again; crazy bitches got the best pussy. I always wondered what was it that made men attracted to women that ain’t got the good sense God gave em, but now it all makes sense. The drama-filled, bipolar, can’t get right pussy must be something to write home about. You ever known a man with a crazy bitch? I mean this woman stresses this man out to no end, but he stays with her and you wonder why? Cause she got that fiyah. I always wondered how these same men know the bitch crazy and marry her anyway. I thought it was because men loved a challenge, naw cause that coochie keeps em trapped.
Not all brothas are marriage material. There are some you literally have to punch in the ball sack to get them to take you out the house. They fear the words “us” and “together”. If you even attempt to say “When I get married”…their asses are so quick to let you know it ain’t that kind of party. These are the “Only for a time” men. You can kick it with them.. you know have your fun, but when you decide you want something more you look the other way. Then you have the brothas that don’t shy away from commitment. They’ve done all they wanted to do and more and finally realized that finding that woman that makes them feel confident in love is better than any feeling in the world. They have no problem making that step with the right person. They know when it’s time ladies, sometimes they want to make sure that you’re ready.
*Snapping Fingers* Welcome to the Diary of A Mad Guest Blogger. This is a segment where we feature the bloggers that got thangs to say. I want you to give a special hand to John Doe.
Loyalty, that’s the word that comes right after the big four letter word “Love”. Some may say they both coincide with each other. One may not be capable to have one without the other, in a safe or healthy relationship. People, have you ever wondered/questioned the loyalty of family, friends, & especially your significant other has for you? Well, that’s a question everyone thinks or asks themselves and will like to know the answer to before that big day one may say “I DO”.
There are some men that I wouldn’t allow to come anywhere near me. Not because I’m stuck up or anything, but you can just tell that certain folks are a few nuggets short of a ten piece. Now, even though I try to stay far away from the coo coo clock brothas, their asses still end up finding me. I must have the words “Love Me Some Crazy” etched on my forehead, and only the deranged ones can see it. There are some chicks that actually think a man putting a knife to her throat is the sexiest thing in the world. That makes me wonder; is crazy the new sexy?
*Snapping Fingers* Welcome to the Diary of A Mad Guest Blogger. This is a segment where we feature the blogger that got thangs to say. Please give up for Mamachel.
The other day I watched a father tow his daughter on his bicycle to school and it brought back memories. As far back as I can remember I have always been taken care of by men. Pause! Before you run with that, It’s not what you think. I’m talking about fond memories of being the only girl with ten male cousins and having one of my uncles waking me up in the morning to get ready for school, ironing my uniform and making me tea. Wait let me explain, I grew up with my grandmother, grandfather, and two uncles, never mind that all my male cousins lived in my district or that my next door neighbour’s grandson adopted me as his sister.
I literally grew up surrounded by men and inevitably I grew up a tomboy. Let’s not get it twisted my grandmother was VERY involved in my life and was an old school Church of God Christian who had me in church EVERY. SINGLE. DAY.OF.THE.WEEK. She would twist my hair and make me wear pink dresses and pink stockings (torture for a tomboy).
And If you grew up with your granny you KNOW that survival depends on how well you do what she says. Despite her efforts, after church upon reaching home, I would tear off my pink frills, put on my shorts and run over to the football field to be with the boys.