I was casually seeing this guy for about a year. Let’s him Asshole. Asshole didn’t wanna commit because he couldn’t get over his ex. Boo hoo. Awww. Who needs a hug?
So I stuck around hoping all my good qualities would win him over. I’m loaded with good qualities. I’m a good qualities connoisseur! Did we ever make it? No. He’s a homie hopper and a party animal. No committing to me.
And now I’m where he once was. I can’t get over my “ex”.
Funny how I spent a year trying. TRYING. And all I got was his issues.
…that I recently reactivated and hardly ever use. HOW? HOW? HOW? I don’t even friend these niggas on Facebook! Two of ‘em quit me, so why follow me?
What kinda nigga shit is that?
-Woke up with a massive headache because I slept for like 13+ hours. I don’t even know how.
-Got denied for having bad credit by Dell.com, those bastards.
-Saw my ex on Facebook being cuffed by a new nigga.
-Got a $130 light bill.
I’m ready to commit niggercide and jump off my porch.
It’s been a long time since I felt like I didn’t fit in.
Today, the graphic design program at my school went on a “on-site visit” (SEE field trip) and we had to do a student carpool. I carpooled with three white people. Alla this is important for later so remember it.
When I started the program, well college really, I was unsure whether I should get close to anybody. In high school, I was the average hoodlum and that was the crowd I kept. Figured these be my boys for life.
That ain’t happen.
A few figured I was gay, because I was never cuffing a bitch or macking a ho nor did I show interest. At heart, I’m nothing like that so when they all started knocking chicks up and dropped out, I “ran outta friends”… So I kept to myself and didn’t bother making anymore.
I went off to college with optimism. Told myself, “Fuck this and anybody opposed because I’m coming out and I want the world to know,” or whatever the lyrics are. Told myself I was nixing all the homophobic people in my life who wouldn’t be cool with me being gay. And I did that… I was gonna replace them with gay friends.
So I get to college and I thought I was gonna make friends with the gay clique on campus. Small community college. About 10 out and proud gays. All of em had they wrists hanging loose and caboose tooted like flutes. I wasn’t tripping. True friends who accepted me were better than the opposite. I thought I was gonna make some good friends.
That ain’t happen.
They ain’t like me. To them I wasn’t gay enough. I was hiding who I really was. I was just some trade nigga. I ain’t fit in no way. But did I figure that was the problem? Nope… That just wasn’t my calling, because that’s just not my crowd.
So why not make friends with the people in your program? It’s easy. And obvious as shit! Why not do that? I didn’t wanna make friends with my competition. When I started college, I was slow to make friends simply because I didn’t wanna mistakenly get close to anyone who might not like me because I’m gay. The keep the competition shit at bay left for various reasons and some of the people in the program grew on me.
I regret not staying to myself.
College is fucking crazy. It’s stressful. It’s depressing. It’s expensive when you go off to college, too. Without family or friends, you’ll be shit outta luck when you’re caught out there. So I made friends.
Deep fucking shitty coated sigh.
Today, on the way back from the field trip the three white people showed they natural white asses. The guy driving is a known douche, asshole, tool, jerk. He says rude shit daily and is very inappropriate. He’s cool though and a lot of what he says is funny albeit racist, homophobic, chauvinistic, etc. He’s not afraid to take shots at himself though and always turns the inappropriate mirror on white males of his demeanor or white males period. He’s an equal opportunity asshole. Still there’s no surprise in what happened…
For some reason, it was the three of us in the car siding together on a joke and he jokingly said: “I hope all your mother’s die”. My mother is dead and I said “but my mother IS dead.”
“That’s kinda inappropriate.”
“I mean, how old were you when she died?”
“I was 3-months but still that doesn’t mean anything… She’s still dead and that was still rude.”
“So what? She coulda been a horrible mom. She coulda been a horrible person.”
He then went off on a tangent about how his mom was an alky or addict of some sort and how she was cruel and rude and the like…. I made the point that I’d rather have a horrible mom that was alive than any kinda dead mom. I just wish I could have had her in my life. He didn’t take that rebuttal. It didn’t hold water in his opinion.
He then polls the car on which race/gender is really THE worse driver. After gauging the other two (I remained tight lip, because I was already MAD), he says he thought black women were the worst drivers. It was a big spiel on black women being pushy and loud and always taking justice in their own hands to right anybody who had wrong them. He even did the stereotypical black woman impersonation complete with imaginary press-on nails.
“Nuhn-uhn, motherfucker. You got the wrong one. You ain’t cuttin’ me off on this interstate!”
The others in the car agreed with him about the way black women are and I’m not saying it’s wrong, but that’s not ALL black women. But that’s not even it. He then goes on a chauvinistic tangent about women period.
This is bad in itself, but it’s life. I’ma come across more of this until I die. That’s just the way it is. What I’m beating myself up about though… In some ways, I let this happen. Sometimes, on campus, we may come across hood niggas and tackhead bitches (worded for specific emphasis) and I will voice my opinion on how black people that are like that are not the kinda black people I rep. I’m not anybody’s stereotype. I don’t run in those circles. By having this stance, they felt like it was totally cool saying shit of this caliber in my presence. It just took some hurt feelings for me to realize it.
I don’t fit in with those specific black people, because I’m not that. I don’t fit in with the opposite black people (known as black preps around here) either. I just don’t. I don’t fit in with the white people in my program a whole lot if you take away the fact that we’re all interested in graphic design.
I got to this point by realizing that I need to reevaluate my friends based upon what happened. I might be a loner again.
I remember this! I remember that day and everything. Those two deaf dudes now room together. Right. Next. Door. I stay horny because of it.
I just told somebody on BGC, “I’m not here to make friends…”
…got the craziest urge to say “I’m here to win.” Wow. My dating life is exclusively online AND has transformed into a reality show. At night, I cry.
…but the one that I usually want, doesn’t pay me any attention. The ones I don’t want, never give up even when I want them to.
There’s this older guy, Kevin. He’s that stereotypical male church organist. Queer as folk. Gay as all hell. Feminine as they come. He uses words like “honey” and “suga” and shit like that. He’s a vocalist/pianist. Well respected for the craft. And that’s it.
People talk mad shit about him. Faggot this, faggot that. I’ve never heard anybody respect him outside of his skills on the keys. Before I knew what gay was, I was taught that men don’t act like that. So on and so forth. He wasn’t my idol is my point. But I liked piano so when I was like five or six, I told my grandmother I wanted to play. She told me:
“That’s for punks.”
I ain’t get it. Now that I know what gay is, and now that identify as gay I understand alot of the hate Kevin endured. I look back and shit I’ve heard about him and it makes me dislike the people saying it. But I still can’t bring myself to “like” Kevin. Guess I was taught men don’t “act like that”.
Kevin had a sister who had a very long, well-known drug habit. She gets more respect than he. In these streets, gay < crackhead. But I digress.
I don’t know Kevin’s full struggle or his life so I can’t compare the shit I put up with to him and his. I do feel like I put up with a lot and for a minute I’ve been just taking it and trying my best to respect people like my friends and family hoping to gain respect in return. Letting that shit bottle up, I’ve been exploding on cue for weeks now. I don’t like talking about my problems. I was taught that is equal to complaining and bitches complain. Men are men and that’s that. So I don’t talk about my “problems”, regardless the severity.
One problem: My family doesn’t support me.
I thought it kinda started a few months back. I look back and well… When I was five or so, I told my grandmother I wanted to learn piano. She told me “That’s for punks”. I didn’t get it then. That was at 5. With all the slander and homophobia I see and deal with at 20, I get it now.
I gave up sex until July. July. July. July. July. July. July. July. July. July. I won’t have sex until July.