either. When Isee men in today’s society like Martin Lawrence, Luke, Master P, Too Short, and all the others who don’t make women feel any safer in this world, it pisses me off.”
“Adrian, I don’t think these brothers mean anything by the things they do. It’s just money for them. Shit that sells. It’s just entertainment.”
She shakes her head. “But what about the security of women? What about us?”
What about y’all?
I think.
I have enough troubles trying to stay out of jail, out of the drug war, or being viewed as a sellout because of my college degree and love for nice things
.
“You think black men are running around here mad at Adina Howard, Millie Jackson, Lil’ Kim, and Foxy Brown?” I ask. “They sure don’t give good black men any hope.”
“No I don’t think that, because men don’t think with their brains when encountering those kind of women.”
“That’s not a true or a fair statement, Adrian.”
“Greg, when was the last time I heard you even open your mouth in protest when we sat here on this very couch watching Adina Howard on BET? I’ve never heard you talking about lost hope. Come on, tell me.”
I shrug.
“See what I mean?”
“Adrian, I’m not going to bash those sisters because they’re proclaiming their sexuality on the screen. It’s their freedom. To get mad and swollen would be like … like …”
“Too much like
right
. Am I correct, Greg?” She shifts her position in my arms and smiles before returning her attention to the television. “A booty shaking is just too much for you to try to cover up and be mad about.”
“I see your point. But baby, men are men. We look because it’s pleasing. I hate to be so up-front, but men like looking at women.”
“I just think that if the black men, and men in general, took it upon themselves to take their lives and positions in this world a little more seriously, then the women would follow.”
“So you’re saying that men are the reason why women do what they do?”
“And what do
they
do?”
“You know, wear hootchie outfits, argue in public, talk loud, and disrespect each other.”
She looks up at me, amused. “I’m saying that before your kind came along, we were doing just fine.” She giggles and rests her head on my stomach. “Hell, yes, the women would follow. Now we act just like men want us to.”
I sit quiet while holding her. I can’t figure out what she meant by that, but it’s too late to be insulted and I’m too horny to go there and start an argument. The last thing I need to do is make her mad at me and cut myself off from getting any love tonight.
God forbid
, I think.
5
S eptember is already here. It’s still hot as hell and I can’t even tell that summer has come to an end. Adrian and I have been ripping and running trying to get our wedding arrangements done. We met with the caterer yesterday. He was some gay brother named Marquis LaSalle. His name even sounded gay to me. He was cool, though, and all about business. We’re serving the usual: chicken wings, Swedish meatballs, fruits and vegetables. Adrian also ordered a four-layer French vanilla cake with homemade icing, and it’s as expensive as it sounds.
I figured most of the people behind the scenes at this wedding lead alternative lifestyles, because Adrian has more gay friends than I have pairs of socks and that’s saying a lot. The limousine driver, our coordinator, and the person singing the Lord’s Prayer are all gay too. She used to have a guy working in her shop that was flaming, so I suppose he hooked her up with most of these people. The rest of the folks I knew from around the way. We have a live jazz band playing the reception. Most of them I went to high school with. The one singer I scheduled is an older woman Pops knew from his days in the music world. I already know that Shreese and Jamal are going to tripabout the alternative lifestyles, so I’ve decided to just keep my lips sealed. Maybe
“Adrian, I don’t think these brothers mean anything by the things they do. It’s just money for them. Shit that sells. It’s just entertainment.”
She shakes her head. “But what about the security of women? What about us?”
What about y’all?
I think.
I have enough troubles trying to stay out of jail, out of the drug war, or being viewed as a sellout because of my college degree and love for nice things
.
“You think black men are running around here mad at Adina Howard, Millie Jackson, Lil’ Kim, and Foxy Brown?” I ask. “They sure don’t give good black men any hope.”
“No I don’t think that, because men don’t think with their brains when encountering those kind of women.”
“That’s not a true or a fair statement, Adrian.”
“Greg, when was the last time I heard you even open your mouth in protest when we sat here on this very couch watching Adina Howard on BET? I’ve never heard you talking about lost hope. Come on, tell me.”
I shrug.
“See what I mean?”
“Adrian, I’m not going to bash those sisters because they’re proclaiming their sexuality on the screen. It’s their freedom. To get mad and swollen would be like … like …”
“Too much like
right
. Am I correct, Greg?” She shifts her position in my arms and smiles before returning her attention to the television. “A booty shaking is just too much for you to try to cover up and be mad about.”
“I see your point. But baby, men are men. We look because it’s pleasing. I hate to be so up-front, but men like looking at women.”
“I just think that if the black men, and men in general, took it upon themselves to take their lives and positions in this world a little more seriously, then the women would follow.”
“So you’re saying that men are the reason why women do what they do?”
“And what do
they
do?”
“You know, wear hootchie outfits, argue in public, talk loud, and disrespect each other.”
She looks up at me, amused. “I’m saying that before your kind came along, we were doing just fine.” She giggles and rests her head on my stomach. “Hell, yes, the women would follow. Now we act just like men want us to.”
I sit quiet while holding her. I can’t figure out what she meant by that, but it’s too late to be insulted and I’m too horny to go there and start an argument. The last thing I need to do is make her mad at me and cut myself off from getting any love tonight.
God forbid
, I think.
5
S eptember is already here. It’s still hot as hell and I can’t even tell that summer has come to an end. Adrian and I have been ripping and running trying to get our wedding arrangements done. We met with the caterer yesterday. He was some gay brother named Marquis LaSalle. His name even sounded gay to me. He was cool, though, and all about business. We’re serving the usual: chicken wings, Swedish meatballs, fruits and vegetables. Adrian also ordered a four-layer French vanilla cake with homemade icing, and it’s as expensive as it sounds.
I figured most of the people behind the scenes at this wedding lead alternative lifestyles, because Adrian has more gay friends than I have pairs of socks and that’s saying a lot. The limousine driver, our coordinator, and the person singing the Lord’s Prayer are all gay too. She used to have a guy working in her shop that was flaming, so I suppose he hooked her up with most of these people. The rest of the folks I knew from around the way. We have a live jazz band playing the reception. Most of them I went to high school with. The one singer I scheduled is an older woman Pops knew from his days in the music world. I already know that Shreese and Jamal are going to tripabout the alternative lifestyles, so I’ve decided to just keep my lips sealed. Maybe
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