Gangsta Luv

"You ain't felt love until a gangsta get up in it."

I never quote rappers when I'm trying to say anything of major importance, but Snoop was kinda right. There's something about thug lovin. There's an aggressiveness, a roughness, not to mention the tatted torso, back and arms. Think about it. Women have cried tears of joy over 50 cent's chiseled torso and muraled back. The posters of him holding guns and stories of jail and drugs sold millions. Tupac was the epitome of living a thug life and many women loved him for it. Perhaps the strangest example is Lil Wayne. Have you seen his babies' mothers? Have you seen him? Right. They love the danger, the rough neckness of it all. A good friend once told me she had no idea why, but she found Rick Ross sexy as hell. That's tossing the stone a bit far, but yea, there was a reason and it was the rough edges, the armed and dangerousness, the thug life. But make no mistake, when you crack that outer shell open, what's inside is just as great. Perhaps the best part is the protective casing of someone who's as soft as a Snuggie on the inside. I mean, you can't go hard all the time. And talk about loyalty. You go hard for them, they go hard for you. Usually for good. Even long after, you can always call on them. Holler if you need me, you know I still got you.

My mom used to laugh at me because I grew up around anything but thugs, yet I seemed to find boyfriends that fit the casting to a T. Something about me rebelling against my cookie cutter life. My thugs were usually fake suburban ones, but once I left the confines of our little world, you couldn't stop me from finding the hardest dude out there. And they loved me. I think because I was so not the around the way girl, the chick from the block. I made them laugh with my love of rock music (I once warranted a major laugh from my dude and his friends when I asked who Gucci Mane was), but can still talk shit and keep up with the dudes in a game of spades. One of my ex's was as thuggy as they come. Jail time, tats, drug-selling, the whole 9mm. It was as extreme as I'd ever gone, and few supported. While I was like a moth to a flame with him, I also knew there was no future. I may like 'em, but I don't have time to reform them. And after one too many fights in the club, I was like, "Anger management or move on."

My boy just told me that chicks our age shouldn't be into thugs anymore It's an immature thing. I guess in the end, it's another thing you outgrow, which sucks 'cause I love the thugs. Maybe I'm reaching to my alter ego, my crazy girl when I'm with this kind of dude, but one things for certain: the bigger the gat, the better my clit clacks.

That bitch stole my line,

xoxo

Blackie Collins

HAPPY 100th!!

These past 100 posts have been filled with sweat, tears, love, and more. Thanks for reading, thanks for commenting. Here's to the next 100.

As always: that bitch stole my line,

xoxo Blackie Collins

Marathon Man

Every woman dreams, whether admittedly or not, that they want a full-time lover. One who puts in serious work and is the absolute definition of laying it down. We love hearing the stories from girlfriends. Green with envy as we listen to them brag about how he goes all night, every night. Insert sigh.

Well, in the real world, all night is usually only an hour or two. Longer than the prerequisite thirty minutes of McLovin' he gives you. Yes, we all love a good quickie. A quick third quarter of nookie, but most women still complain about the lack of languorous nights full of oo's and ah's that are at the very least, a good Duracell.

Enter Marathon Man.

Breaks you off something serious, but not with the speed of lightning. Instead, he sexes you for five, six, seven hours. Like a titanium Energizer, he just keeps going and going and going. A lot can happen during that time, none of which is a water break longer than a few minutes. You are literally worn out. Put to sleep not because you lost count of your orgasms, but because of the sheer exhaustion! He put you to bed, all right.

Marathon Man isn't a myth.

Marathon Man isn't an urban legend.

Marathon Man is real.

I went to dinner with Maria last night and she started talking about a guy she started dating a few days before New Year's Eve. She said she felt lukewarm about him, could care less whichever way it went. Then they slept together. They've hung out every night since. Maria's exhausted and not because she works hard, but because her ass is up, getting it in, for 5 and 6 hours a night! I sat and listened to her tell me-in great detail-how he flips her, rips her, dips her, just all around gets her. And gets it in. I sat there, mouth agape, thinking, "Wowzers. That's the life." But is it really? It's great, yes, feels amazing, absolutely. But what about the good ole quickie? What about sleep? What about not walking right for a week while you're at work, trying to do your job?

Hmmm, good questions, indeed, but...what about any of it? Here's to the friggin good life. I'll sign up for it any night of the week. In fact if there was a Batman-esque "Marathon Man" signal to shine like a beacon above New York City? I'd be waving it like a flag, all. night. long.

That bitch stole my line,

xoxo

Blackie Collins

The One Vs. The Right One

You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make that dude drink if he ain't thirsty enough. I believe there is such a thing as the One. Thee One, yes, that's who we're talking about here. The one whom you believe is that person; the one you could wake up next to for as long as you take in oxygen. Huge. Wonderful. Hold that thought. Because it is absolutely possible to confuse The One with The Right One. You meet someone and you feel a click. It feels different, it feels great. You carry on without any degree of caution. You go forward like you've never been hurt, and maybe you haven't, maybe you have. Perhaps those are both problems, perhaps not.

Then something happens. Time passes. You both realize how happy you are, maybe a little too happy. Maybe you start waiting for the other shoe to drop, you start backing away, running away from great things, wishing to add a few more notches to your bedpost. You care, deeply even, but not enough to keep you from parting ways. And it feels bad. Really bad. Something feels amiss. You didn't realize it, but they were absolutely apart of your life. Your bed still smells like them, there's food of theirs in the fridge, their toothbrush is still sitting next to your's. You wipe away all traces, but it still feels empty. Vacant. You hear a funny story and go to grab your phone, but you can't do that anymore. He or she is gone. No longer a secure channel for which you can confide. And you realize something has changed in you, they changed something in you, you think you might've just said goodbye to the One, but you say, "no, that's can't be possible...right?" You shake it off, pretend that feeling doesn't exist and eventually it doesn't. On to the next and all that. When this happens, you have mistaken it for The Right One, but it isn't. It's simply The One.

See, there's a giant difference between the two. The One is someone who will be important in the grand scheme of things. Maybe he or she will have their own titled chapter in the book of your life or maybe just an honorable mention. There can be more than one One in your life. And you can cry over the One, sulk over the One, talk shit about the One, but you can move onfrom the One. But the Right One? Well, that's a horse of a different color. The Right One clamps down tight and doesn't let you go. The Right One lets go of their own fears and plunges ahead. The Right One promises forever and then does their absolute best to give you just that.

You can lead the One to water, but you can't make 'em drink. But, the Right One doesn't need to be led and drinks without any kind of force at all.

That bitch stole my line,

xoxo

Blackie Collins

The Right Girl at the Wrong Time

I was brunching at a neighborhood eatery. A place where everybody knows my name and the owner personally says hello when I dine in. Me and my girlfriends were chatting, laughing and doing all things associated with a group of intelligent, attractive women. The usual suspects, the usual topics. One that caught my ear, made me instantly say, "I gotta write about that" was the notion of the right woman coming into a man's life at the wrong time and him subsequently letting her go.

See, a man must have all his ducks in a proverbial row before he can accept someone into his life on a serious basis. He must have a solid job, money in the bank, clothes in his closet, a strong and secure personality, void of drama. They don't need to be perfect, but they have to be on the right page. Healthy and happy people accept and attract other healthy and happy people. Damaged people, well, they attract each other too. So, when a man doesn't have his duckies lined up, when he is so on the wrong foot he can barely walk straight, he cannot possibly begin to insert a woman into the equation. She may be exactly what he never knew he always wanted, but he will let her go. He will release her out to the wolves with the possibility that some other dude will see exactly what he found right in her in the first place. It's frustrating, but true. And in the end he's actually doing the girl a favor, but we'll get to that.

Now, when he's on the right footing, walking tall, he will want and maybe even need a woman to share in his successes. The wrong one may come along, but if it's the right time, he'll go ahead and proceed anyway. Once again, it's more about him than anything else. Men are more selfish than selfless-that trait is usually reserved for women- and even if you're milkshake brings every single boy to the yard and has them coming back for first, seconds, and thirds, he won't if he simply can't get it together long enough to find a straw. He's too busy looking for himself!

Now about this favor. He is doing you a huge one by letting you go. Look, someone right can get their hands on you if he does. It may even be the object of your desire when he's in a better place. But for the time being, please exit stage left. It may hurt. It may seem like there was something wrong with you, but there isn't. It's completely and utterly the cliche: "it's me, not you." You must get out your magnifying class and look at things clearly, for what they truly are, not what you want them to be. Trying to be with someone who isn't together will only make you come undone yourself and no matter what time it is for anyone, that is never all right.

That bitch stole my line,

xoxo

Blackie Collins

A Special Happy New Year

Today is special. It's New Years Eve. A night where people get the ultimate do-over. The ultimate second chance. It's a night where people ring in the beginning of a new year with the sweet kiss of someone old or someone new or no one at all.

Today is special.

A few months ago, I started dating someone. Someone who I cared about deeply. Someone who made me laugh and smile. Someone who, in a word, made me happy.

Today is special for him as well. He is attending the wedding of a friend. A blast off wedding that will ensure everyone rings in the New Year together, celebrating what will hopefully be a union that will see many many New Years to come. I was originally invited to this wedding.

Originally, but not anymore.

Today is indeed special. It's a day that I had all hope and intention of spending with a guy I was totally in to. A day where we'd dress up, dance our butts off, and hide out when garter belts and bouquets were thrown. Then the clock would strike midnight and whatever moment shared at that time would be one I would remember for future New Years to come.

I will definitely remember this New Years, though. I will remember how much fun we would have had. I will remember how much I miss him tonight and on many nights. I will remember kissing someone else in a city different then his, sharing a moment elsewhere, wondering in that moment who he's making a memory with.

Today is special because today, for once, I'm not so angry with him. Not so angry for hurting me, changing our status quo, messing up a great thing, causing me to spend this New Year's Eve without so much as a spoken word to him. After much thought, I realized a cease fire was needed, a cut off. A time period where he needed to forget my name, number, twitter and the like. Just because I'm smack in the middle of that time period doesn't mean I have forgotten him though. I wonder if he's forgotten me.

Today is special because today, for once, I am not so sad. I'm actually happy that I was given a chance to be in a situation where two people took a stab at a solid, "doing it right" union. One that superceded, in it's short time, the longer, stressful relationships from the past that I thought were 'good.' Being able to be one half of a healthy duo is a wonderful experience, so I cast no shade his way. I thank him and look forward to whatever is coming in this new year. Whether he's apart of it or not, I'm excited for what's in store. So here's to a new year, a second chance, but definitely no do overs. I regret nothing and I hope he doesn't either.

Yes. Today is special indeed.

Happy New Year,

Blackie Collins

Bro On The Side

A couple holiday seasons ago, I wound up having dinner with a friend's family. It was one of those nights sandwiched between Christmas and New Year's where everyone seems to have giant dining room family dinners all week. I was enjoying conversation and laughing with my friend's hilarious family. It was a great night with people who might as well have been my own family. My friend's brother, Sam, was engaged to a girl no one in the family seemed to like, Eden. She seemed nice enough to me, but I'd heard the stories about the craziness, possible mental issues, drama. Sam and Eden were sitting across from each other at the table. Next to Sam was Sam's best friend, Dave, and across from Dave, next to Eden, was me.

The conversations around the table were raging on, when a pause hit the table. It was brief, extremely brief, but it was just long enough for everyone to hear Dave say to Sam:

"Dude, seriously. I will go out and buy you a friggin Porsche if you don't marry this girl. I'm for real."

Silence fell over the table and everyone busied themselves with their plates of food. Except Eden. Eden glared at Dave like he was the Devil himself at dinner.

Sam mumbled something about Dave shutting up, but Dave had no such plans. He repeated his statement, with more emphasis. Sam made a sad attempt at elbowing Dave. Sam's mother coughed obnoxiously. His Dad said, "Ok, ok, Dave. You've made your point." And while the table sort of eased back into regular conversation after that, I couldn't help but feel terribly sorry for Eden. Through all the maylay, not one person of her soon to be In-Laws stood up for her. Nor did her fiancee dead the situation. Talk about the long road home, Eden.

But I also couldn't help but feel a major sense of respect for Dave. Every guy should have that friend. The friend that will not sugar coat it. Will keep you from making the mistake of your life. Will be the one to stand up at that wedding and say, "I object." Dave was that friend and Sam was lucky to have him apparently. A few months later, Sam called off the wedding.

He doesn't drive a Porsche, though.

That bitch stole my line,

xoxo

Blackie Collins