Calamity Butterfly

This relationship stuff is mad tricky these days. In fact, forget relationships, because if you mention the ‘R’ word you can be guaranteed that most men will think you’re getting too heavy. I have absolutely no idea what I should be doing where men are concerned. It used to be so simple. Girl meets boy, likes boy, and tells him. You hook up and start going out, until you break up and it all starts all over again. This worked all through my teens, and my twenties. Except this time round, in my third decade it nah work no more.

Girl meets boy, boy seems interested, tries to hit the coochie without so much as an alcoholic beverage, then disappears when it doesn’t happen. Trust me, my coochie don't get popped without the proper courtships rules being observed.

Recently I met someone who I find very attractive, and is great to talk to, a killer combination in my book. But I just can’t bring myself to do anything about it. I just don’t think I can take the knockback right now, and I’m not sure enough about whether he is interested in me. In fact, I’m almost sure that he’s not. Then again, since when was I an expert on men who like me. I almost never notice the ones that want more than friendship, and they rarely make themselves noticed. It’s only years later when a friendship has blossomed, and they are practically hitched to some other bitch do I hear the words: “I used have your picture on my wall back in the day.” Or as the line I shall forever treasure spoken by the legend that is Big Ted goes: “There was you, and Monie.”

More recently someone felt the need to take me to task for going out with The Bobo Dread. He felt it necessary to share with me how I had dropped a notch in his estimation by going out with The Bobo Dread. Sometimes I wonder why exactly some people feel it is necessary to share their opinions with me concerning my love life which is none of their 'raatid' (not a word that can be used in Scrabble) business. I mean how do you get from hello to "why did you go out with that loser" who incidentally I broke up with almost three years ago. This is a nigga whose phone number I do not have, whose email I never use and in all the years I've known him I speak to for a period of around un minute. Why is he all in my grill about my ex?

Some men just can't handle the fact that you were never interested in their tired ass. Being that we were at a funeral, I decided not to curse out his BC and just said 'The Bobo Dread is someone that I still consider a good friend. It is inappropriate for you to talk about him or me in that way, and quite frankly none of your damn business.' It was only because of where we were, that I held it down. The next time I see that motherfucker he will be talking to Butterfly: The Ice Queen. He'll get served the Butterfly Jones 'shiver your timbers' glare, and not a word will pass my lips. Revenge is a dish best served cold.

Anyway, as for the object of my affections, for now, I’m opting for the pussy's way out. I’ll be doing absolutely fuck all. As one of my movie heroines once sang: “Once I had a secret love” and "Que sera, sera, whatever will be, will be."