Tuesday, August 9, 2016

F-Boy Literature: But Your Girl Reads My Blog Though...

Joshua is privileged.

Joshua is so privileged that, at thirty, his mother still brings him dinner from the country club she frequents to the home they acquired for him one year ago. He has the advantage of saving his bread, literally, and spending his parent's wealth. He's got immunity to the millennial struggle, a descendant of a divine nine founder, and a Maryland blue blood resident. Joshua is so damn proud that this is the way that he refers to himself: blue blood, more affluent, not like these other negroes.

These words don't crawl out of Joshua's mouth until we're well accustomed. Had they been uttered when we met, I would've made a run for the hills.

Joshua is so freakin' blessed that he mentors young men, on the weekends, courtesy of his fraternity initiatives,  built upon honor, and lies to them. (I won't hate on his organization, his brother and his momma hooked me up with more volunteer work in NYC. They're clutch.) He tells them to stand their ground, get their own, fend for themselves.

"Like you did?"

I smirk, from the corner of his sofa as he tells me this. He's responding to my volunteer work in juvenile detention centers. He wants to show me that he puts in work, too.

He's cocky, "I mean, I didn't grow up the way they did, but they don't need to know that. They've got to learn to pull themselves up by their bootstraps."

I lean forward in my seat, flabbergasted by his horsesh*t. I want to put my talented tenth Timberland in his Booker T. behind.

(I'm an advocate of being an amalgamation of both.)

I look over to a corner where he has all of his shoes. I spy his frat boots, for his step shows. His organization stole the concept from one that came before him. He's a thief all around, taking the stories of his brothers...telling young men he's struggled, been through the mud, kicked his way out of sorrow.

I'm peeved, and it shows.

"You look upset."

"Nah, I'm good."

I realize I'm in the middle of boondocks Maryland, and he's my ride back to DC, where I'm staying. He moves closer to me, on the couch, "I missed you."

I haven't seen Joshua, for two months. We met at a brunch in DC, and we spent the whole day together. After that, we kept our growing relationship over the phone until I made my way back down.

Red flag numero uno. Why didn't he bring his butt to NYC? Oh yeah, something about work and blah blah blah---men will make you a priority if they wanna. 

There were moments that Joshua's superficiality showed, while we spoke. I convinced myself that I could unravel this, that he'd be different alongside someone who walked around with a bleeding heart. Perhaps I could soak into him, show him the error of his ways.

I was wrong.

I spent the evening with Joshua and his friends that eventually showed up. We played Uno, laughed and talked, and they imitated my NYC accent. Ayo, ma. Ayo, B. I would've done the same to their DMV flavor, but they've got too many made up words to remember.

As his friends got ready to leave Joshua asked if I wanted to crash. I stretched my arms and told him I needed to wake up early to do something in the city. He took me back, the ride silent as hell, because Joshua is so damn privileged and fine that he's never had a woman tell him that she's ready to go home.

In fact, the reason I'm sure of this is that he said it on my way out, "Damn, I can't believe you're turning me down. That's a first."

I snickered, swallowing a lethal retort, "Goodnight, shawty."

I tried not to reach out to Joshua after that. There have been a few lapses in judgment, a drunken "heyyyy" or a bored "hope all is well," but I've usually stopped the conversation after a few minutes.

Joshua makes it his business, every year, as the summer is coming to a close, to get back into my life.

Last year, right after one of his infamous "girl, where have you been" texts, I spotted him in my neighborhood supermarket. I was shocked, considering he lived four and a half hours away. He looked like he'd just seen a ghost.

"Eh..Eh...Erica, how are you?"

He was looking around the spice aisle, nervously, and he wasn't in search of paprika. Ha! There must've been a girl with him. He always did like Yankee ladies.

I giggled as I realized this and I started to respond, when a beautiful young woman made her way to us.

"Joshua, I found it! You're gonna love it. Grandma was always about breakfast at night."

She was holding up a box of Bisquick, and I smiled, praying that she was going to make him pancakes for dinner.


I hoped he was reminiscing the surf and turf I'd made, the last time we'd hung out.

He put his arms around her quickly and started to push her in the opposite direction, "Great! You ready?"

She looked at me, "Wait, who's your friend?"

I extended my hand, "I'm Erica, I'm..."

"Oh, girl! I know you. I see you around sometimes, but I haven't been brave enough to say hi. I just copped your book. My homegirl put me on. She went to the release."

This. Woman. Pulls. My. Book. Out. Of. Her. Bag.

Joshua should use his privilege to stay silent. She would love to know why she can't talk to me.
I smile hard, hoping he's reading my notion.

This. Woman. Asks. Me. To. Sign. Her. Book. On. The. Spot.

"Girl! Micah is a trip! When is your next book coming out? I loved it. Sorry, it's so tattered. I've reread that thing a million times."

I. Sign. That. Joint. With. Pleasure.

"Why you ain't tell me you knew, her? She's like the f-boy literature, queen."

*wink* Now y'all know how I got my new book title.

"We have mutual friends, babe. That's it."


I hug her and thank her. I stick my tongue out at Joshua, behind her back, as he rolls his eyes. They walk away, Bisquick in hand, and I cover my mouth stopping myself from saying, "The tea aisle is the next one over! It goes well with breakfast."

I'm curious.

I head to Joshua's FB page and find his girl. I click on her page and see that she's posted almost all of my blogs. She's even re-posted one about Joshua and failed to realize it was about her guy. She's got a picture, next to the book, with the caption: New fave author! Go cop that!

I like her.

Summer is coming to a close and per usual...Joshua and his privilege are on my phone.

Joshua's privilege will not stop me from writing my truth.
Joshua's blessings don't hinder my speech.
Joshua's honors translate as a mouth full of mistakes, a blunder, a joke with immunity.

& I would've left it there, had he not showed his arse today.

Heh. I might be a stalker, but your girl reads my blog.

Hey girl hey!



Just in case you were wondering....

This is an excerpt from my new e-book "F-Boy Literature." Some of the prose you've read here but there are new essays and poems you haven't. I'll be dropping it on August 23rd, and I'll be having an exclusive reading/release at the Union Square Slam Feature on the same day. Trust me. You don't wanna miss this.


Negra With Tumbao said...

I just discovered you via Facebook. YAAAAAS!

Chasity said...

This is GOLD. Bravo!

Unknown said...