Crickets and Hay: Survival of the Fittest

“The question isn't "what are we going to do," the question is "what aren't we going to do?" Ferris Bueller’s Day Off

Ticket …check. 

Hotel room…check. 

Home girls…check. 

Alma mater classic game…check. 

A possible life threatening experience…well shit…tops off a simply priceless weekend!

Let me give you the background story. This is the tale of three friends, Sharyon, Melissa, and me.  Yes I will name them directly because if I have this story on my head…so shall they.  LOL. The planning for a girlfriend meet up in Atlanta started months ago.  My undergrad, Florida A&M University *throws strike* was playing the Atlanta Classic against Southern University. A school we haven’t played in years, so it created the perfect excuse to go to Atlanta and reenact our college years. Yes? Yes,

Don’t you judge me.  Please don’t act like you don’t try to recreate those college years every now and then.  ESPECIALLY if you’re over 30 and the reality of being old(er) has jumped up and smacked you in the head.  And in Atlanta?  Like what a perfect way to dodge reality than to shoot down to the land of false pretenses. (okaaay cheap shot at ATL but yall know I’m telling the truth. EVERYBODY isn’t balling like they claim to be down there…and we’ll just leave it at that)

But I digress, back to my tale of debauchery. So…off to Atlanta we run go.  Now, the first night we get there….we weren’t soooo successful in disguising our age. LOL. We just could not get it together to go out. Hey, man it happens.  Thus, we all agreed we would definitely go out on Saturday. And that nothing…NOTHING would deter us.  Nothing you ask? Nothing, I say.  No. Thing.

So the next day, we gather ourselves…we go.  And the game was awesome. We won (just in case you were curious).  After the game, we made plans to go back to the hotel and head out to the party.  Now this party was a ways away from our hotel….and when I mean a ways I mean….well…far. BUT we had a plan, *ahaaaa* we’d take the train there, and then we’d take a cab back. The directions appeared close to the MARTA stop and hell, we’re New Yorkers and we’re not afraid to walk. So off we go….

Now if you’re smart this is where you’re probably saying… “This is where it all goes wrong right?” ….and you would be…well…right.

All's well that ends well on the MARTA…although please note: ATL’s crazies somehow missed the memo about “no means no”….but that’s a whole nutha story.

Let me lay this out for you, many mistakes were made, and made quickly:

#1: We get off the Marta and walk in the wrong direction.

#2: Once that was realized, we didn’t turn around and retrace our steps.

#3:  Someone said….and I won’t name any names “From the map, we look equidistant from the location, we may as well keep up this street”…we should have NEVER…NEVER …listened to that person. Period.  Okay….that person was me. I mean but who knew??? Who. Knew. 

Imagine this: It’s a dark and chilly night.  Three beautiful ladies are walking down the street. And when I say beautiful, I mean we were decked out. No business on the street. In the country.  Walking.

Did I say walking? 

 But there we were. Walking down the side walk.  It’s a little darker than necessary….I mean, if you live in Georgia you may want to call your officials about your lack of street lights….not safe. Not safe at all. (*side eye*)   And low and behold, the sidewalk disappears.   You may wonder what I mean by disappears? Hmmm? Like runs out.  Vanishes.  No longer cease to exist.  It’s almost like the street worker said… “Maaaaaan…fuck that sidewalk. I quit. Don’t nobody need to walk any further” (yes double negative because that’s just how ignorant it was!).

Siggghhhh, I hate quitters.  A little something you should know about me, since we’re sharing and all….

Okay, so this is where ppl with common sense would turn around right? Right? You know you want to say it. Ha.

HELL NO! Didn’t I just say I hate quitters?

Friends….I can call y’all friends right?  Listen, have you ever been determined to do something so bad that all common sense eludes you? That no matter how much you know you shouldn’t, the urge is buried so deep under your ridiculous need to be out that you simply still do it anyway?

No not you? Oh ok. Well, back to the story… 

So, someone says and again I shan’t name any names, “I think we can walk through the parking lot of that shopping plaza and end up on the other side”. <<< Makes sense right???? Hell yeah it does!!!!! *Hi fives*

Umm yeah, makes sense to a person would have….how can I say this delicately…..FINISHED THE EFFIN SIDE WALK!!!!!!

So we get to the other side and guess what?? Yeah…you got it. No sidewalk…

You’re probably having a nice little chuckle here perhaps with a tad bit of judgment…like ohhh simple New Yorkers, trying to walk everywhere….

Well don’t cry for me Argentina…

Hmmph…wait until later because yup…it gets worse. Lol

Not only does the sidewalk run out and doesn’t continue…we are now on a highway…or the exit of the highway.  So yeah, the sidewalk doesn’t just run out….THE STREET RUNS OUT TOO!

Come on man….now listen I’m not mad at the South. Really, my people are from the south.  *Tennessee stand up!* But come THEE fuck on!!!! REALLY?????

Around this time I’m saying to myself, perhaps out loud.  How. Did. We. Get. Here.

Here as in walking single file line…on the side of the highway… cars are blowing their horns…and it smells like…like…like crickets and hay….

Kind of awful right? Pah….it gets worse…

There’s a break in the field….we get off the highway. 

*At this point we’re too far gone to turn around. And honestly, it’s not even about the party anymore. It’s the muthaeffin principle.  Shit, we’re damn near singing “we shall overcome”.  THE MAN WON’T KEEP US DOWN!  People unite! *throws fist in air* *

So we climb in the pasture. I’m slightly nervous…ticks are real….says my momma. Hey man, she lives in the country…anything country and she’s like an encyclopedia on that shit. Trust.  Anyway, it’s kind of like we’re hiking. I mean, like there’s no reeeeaaaal clear path, kind of like uncharted land.  And then just like that, BAM, we’re there. It was like….finding water in the desert….like we followed the North Star and reached the promise land. The utopia. We made it.    

Yeah I know, you expected some exciting tale like a snake jumping out at us or I wrestled a deer or some Daniel Boone isht like that.  Nope.  Just the club.  We made it.  Kind of like when Harold and Kumar made it to white castle. The sweet reward when all was lost. 

But making it isn’t the point of this story.  The point of this story is about the endurance of a struggle.  The want, the need, and the drive of three friends.  The power of friendship and sticking together (even after Melissa ran past us like a freed slave) <<left that out cause I’m no dry snitcher….

Now, the big question, was it worth it?

 Eeeeeh?

Did we party like it was??

HELL YEAH WE DID!!!!

And that’s really all that matters right? ;-)

Get involved.

Double Feature Friday: A Healthy Dose of Reality...

“We must be willing to get rid of the life we've planned, so as to have the life that is waiting for us.” Joseph Campbell

As a little girl you spend your nights daydreaming about your wedding, especially if you were a child like me, who grew up watching Days of our Lives and Young and the Restless (those shows had a big wedding every season).  You knew exactly what kind of dress you wanted, how many bridesmaids, the song you’ll dance to, and perhaps what you’ll say for your vows.  And it didn’t stop there; you knew how old you’d be when you got married, when you’d have your first child, how many kids you would have and their first AND middle names.

I wanted to have 7 kids in total.  Yes. 7. And they were all fully named.  (You can stop laughing now; yes I do realize it would be virtually impossible for me to have 7 kids at this age: totally pipe dream)  But to make it worse I guarded those names like the KFC secret recipe.  I’ve only shared those names with two people and every time those two have a kid, I never EVER offer up one of my names. And I would be hot to muthaeffin trot if they even attempted to take a name.  YES ALL 14 of them!

Don’t judge me….it is what it is.

So it goes without saying, things, clearly, didn’t end up as I planned ESPECIALLY since I am now 35, ring-less and baby-less.  I mean this baby making machine was supposed to be doing its last hurrah at 35.  Some thing that makes me chuckle, because really, did I think I would be ready for the kit and caboodle before now? 

That. Would. Be. A. Negative.

So it made me think, am I even ready now?

I had a conversation with a friend the other day, and she mentioned, she didn’t think she was ready to be married.  At first, I said “Whaaaaaaa?! No ma’am I totally am!!” (Said that with conviction)  Like sign me up on THAT dotted line.   Recruit me and use me.  I’m yours if you want me.  Just ask me and I’m….what? Ready! 

But then I thought about it.  And thought about it. Slept on it. Annnnnnnnd thought some more.

Am I ready to be……*gulp*...married? Am I ready to put someone else’s needs in front of my own?  Care about their feelings? Wants? Desires? To….day?

*crickets , crickets*

I’d have to answer resounding no.

Whoooooa ….

No? No? ….siggghhhh….NO.

I’m way to selfish right now.  I like my space. I want my space.  Hell, I can’t even sleep in the bed with another person….they sleep…I lay awake.

Btw, married and couple friends, when do you ever adjust to that? Because really???  *side eye*

  

Honestly, the thought of going from single…to married…seems very jarring.  I mean, I’ve been single for like…..EVER hehehe….hard to imagine it otherwise. And the challenge seems daunting, to go from everything being about me, to everything being about us, to (when we have kids) everything being about……them?

I. Can’t. Even. Go. There.

While, I do know I WANT marriage, but wanting and being ready to accept are too different things. Yes?

Okay okay okay, you know maybe my thought process is off…like someone is saying “Chile, crawl before you walk right?” Like a sista doesn’t even have a man and you’re talking about marriage! Hahahahaha!  So perhaps to know if I’m ready, I would need to be dating, have a groom, and be in love…blah blah blah blah…(minor details)

Maybe the question isn’t, am I ready to be married?  The question may be, am I ready to start the process? Actively date?

I mean I’d like to say I’m dating, but I’m not.  Not because I’m not going on dates. (ummm cause I’m noooot?) BUT I don’t even think I’ve even actively tossed my hat in the ring.  I think I’m standing on the outside in the cheering section….Like I’m AT the game, but I’m not IN the game. BIGGGG DIFFERENCE!

I need to get in the game.

Eff that.  I AM getting in the game.

So well, let’s make this official, I,  Nika, hereby proclaim, I am officially entering my name in draft.

I mean, what’s the worst that can happen eh?

*on second thought…don’t answer that*

Double Feature Friday: Dude Say What???

“Maybe some women aren't meant to be tamed. Maybe they just need to run free til they find someone just as wild to run with them.” Sex and the City

Want to get under my skin? One simple question will do it EVERY time. 

“Why are you single?” 

Arrrrggghhhhh! Talk about nails on a chalkboard! Dude like what you mean “why am I single?” If I knew…then…….???? Because the assumption has already been made that I don’t want to be single, no?  So if I knew why I wasn’t, wouldn’t I rectify and… ummmm ….fix? Like really? REALLY? 

I mean let’s just get down to the core of this, why do people really ask that question? Do they really want to know the answer?  They can’t. 

Strangely, it still throws me off when people ask that.  Now either I’m like “Wooow, people still ask that question?”  or I’m like “Qooooow, why haven’t I come up with a question for this crap yet?” but never am I like “Wooooow, good question” << Because. It. Is. Not.

NOT.

NOT.

NOT .

One day I’m going to come up with a very witty answer and use it every time, I promise (and I’m open to suggestions, I know yall have some zingers our there lol).

You know what? Let this be a P.S.A….PLEASE STOP NOW!  I beg of you. Because the truth is, it doesn’t make single women feel great.  It’s not a compliment, no matter how you think it is.  It’s pointless…baseless…reckless even.  Instead let’s just use that little bit of time to ask me something more relevant, like……. for my number perhaps.

K?