The art of falling off.......

Anyone that follows me on Facebook is aware of the fuckery in my stats. Some for humors sake, but all in all centered in honesty. On a cold fall day in late October like the cheap psuedo writer I am I walked into Starbucks with my laptop, and enough change for one birthday cake pop, and a venti blond roast. While walking in I noticed a ridiculously huge billboard promoting a performance by Ashanti in a casino up north. My initial response? To jump on my laptop and post about how her upcoming Ho-Chunk Casino performance was the ultimate fall off. Damn.....my girl has officially fell all the fuckin way off. Even shook my head and giggled a little bit. About six weeks later I found myself asking to punch out early so I could find an outfit to see Ms. Ashanti in all her glory. Needless to say I had to eat my fucking words and suppress my childish hater-filled giggles. Even if she had fallen off she convinced a self-proclaimed non-fan such as myself to pay my hard-earned money to see what she had in-store. Hell I really only wanted to hear her sing, "The Way That I Love You". Yep I paid fifty bucks to hear one song LOL. Not bad for a chick who had fallen off. Which made me ask....really what does it mean to fall off? Who makes that decision? Do we really know another's struggle?  

    Well first what does it mean to "fall off"? Falling off is the term used for someone who was at the top of their "game" (dope, entertainment, sports, etc). Top dog. The best. The most popular. And fast forward is a footnote. Now when their name is brought up it usually is followed by, "What happened to them?" I classify plenty as a fall off: Allen Iverson, and 50 cent to name a few, but what they hell do I really know?

   One day while being messy with my ex's new girlfriend we somehow found ourselves in a HER end initiated Facebook inbox argument. I was being asshole me. Antagonizing the hell out of the girl merely because I could. She contacted me asking me about the "relationship" between me and my ex knowing that he was man handling her snatch while he and I were still together. She deserved what pain and lies she received and I found a certain amount of humor and vindication in her hurt and anger, so I replied with responses that only added fuel to the fire. I was winning messy bitch points at their finest until she responded with a message that read: Who the fuck are you...you ain't got shyt. You're just a waitress. In hindsight I could've  told her that I have never made less than $35,000 a year as a waitress, that I have never had a bill late unless it's because I'm just irresponsible and it's pretty easy for me to make 175 in tips, not work a full eight hour shift and still find time for her "boo" to face dive on my clitoris. Instead I moved onto other insults.

   Days later...that convo still bothered me a bit. Not because of the sheer messiness of it all, but because I felt as if I had fallen off. Had I? Nope. I'm still doing what I want to do, how I want to do it, and taking care of home with it. But it bothered me that a woman who didn't know anything about me outside of what my lying ex had told her and what she learned while lurking on my social media sites had made a twisted assumption about me. Suddenly it became bigger than her. Who else felt like I was nothing because of my job? Shiddd I make good money!!! I wanted to somehow prove that...till reality hit. What was making me feel a need to show someone who meant nothing to me the balance in my checking account? Did it really matter what anyone thought? If I had fallen off in no way would she be of assistance to pick me up. I had to reprogram my mind. She had no real understanding of me or my life. An outsider looking in and seeing very little of the picture. No different than the judging I was doing of others. Which probably meant I too had no fucking clue what I was talking bout.

  On a freezing cold December 7th night I ran all over the city completing the ultimate concert outfit, and creating the perfect face of makeup. I got ready for the concert while listening to my best of Ashanti mix. My cousin and I got in the car and drove a painstaking, scenery lacking two and a half hours and bounced up and down with teenage excitement the entire time. When she hit that stage I jumped up and screamed like everyone else. I closed my eyes and drifted back to past hurt when she sang, "Rain On Me", damn near cried when she belted out, "The Way That I love you". And somehow magically knew her new unreleased tracks. When the lights went up and everyone left the theater I was reluctant to go. Not bad for what I classified as a fall off. As I did the math...she managed to pack that theater making no less than $20,000 that night. My $175.00 a day doesn't compare, but just like myself she damn sure hasn't fell off. If that's what it means. I can take that. Hell sign me up for one right now. Or I can erase it from my vocabulary altogether.

...and the truth shall set you free

I consider myself  a conscious woman. Not one of sainthood, perfection or deity, but a conscious woman. I understand life, reason and the yin and yang of life. More so relationships. I've done some dumb shit. Most in the name of love, and even in it's sheer stupidity I stand by everything I've ever did with not an inkling of regret. I've learned over the years that somethings about life and love lack rationale. That somethings are just done based upon what your heart feels is best. When it comes to everyday business and money I move strictly off rationale and what makes the most sense. When love is involved I let my heart do all the work.... and it normally doesn't make any sense, but dammit...it feels...so right.


I'm full of questions. The person I'm dating has to learn to live with this line all the damn time, "Can I ask you a question?" Whatever the answer may be it still will be followed by another question. Why? Because I'm an open book and the man I potentially give my goodies and heart to needs to be the same. I wanna know everything about you from where did you get that scar on your arm to where your nickname came from to do you prefer Family Guy or American Dad. Why? Well the real question is why not?

As women we become so enthralled in the man in front of us, the sexiness he exudes, the love he professes, his touch, feel and general manly awesomeness that rarely we ever get to know this "Adonis" before he lays down in our beds. Some of us have wrapped our lips willingly around a penis or spread our legs eagle for a man whose middle or last name was completely unknown to us. Simply because it felt something like love. We've yelled from the hilltops he was our man yet was never invited into his home. Or didn't know the full story. Why? Because of desperation. We've all been there. He's so great that you just gotta jump on it, things are moving fast and you just go with the flow even though shit just doesn't make sense. Now fast forward you've fell in love with someone that's not quite up to par. Or you realized that he was a cheater, or liar, or couldn't keep a job, or even worse all three. Then who is really to blame?? Only ourselves for not finding out the truth.

Truth is generally easy to find. It's never hidden very well. It's always right in front of you and when you realize that it was it has less to do with it not being visible and more to do with you choosing to have selective vision. True you won't get all the answers right away. Hell they might even lie to get you. But any smart woman has intuition. In retrospect there's absolutely nothing about my ex's behavior that shocked me. Why? When a man tells you he's cheated numerous times before you can't be naive enough to assume you're lucky number slevin, or that you are so much more awesome than these past women that you won't meet the same fate. I pulled out every sexual trick I had and though he was satisfied wandering penis remains just that.

  My current beau has passed many a test with me he has maintained a sense of transparency with me that sometimes I can't match or rival. We each lay ourselves out on the table and allow the other to determine if our idiosyncrasies, faults, and secrets are enough to run each other away. And that is what has kept me there these past few months when I knew I was scared of jumping into something too fast. When someone gives you the honesty you've so desperately craved......it's something amazing. New. Refreshing. A slow dive into someone's real world and knowing that what's in front of you is truly the real them. Does that make him a keeper? *shrugs* who knows. I will climb that mountain when I get there.

So ask the questions that are rattling your mind. Fear of being nosy is much easier to deal with than the pain of being deceived or hurt. Everyone deserves the truth....and it shall set you free.