Surgeon General Warns Love May Be Hazardous To Your Health

Remember when you were little and someone told you something was dangerous and not to touch it? You saw the hazard warning, the neon flashing danger signs, the caution tape it was surrounded by and how it only made you want to touch it more? So you did and you got burned. You should’ve listened but that would’ve been too easy. This was something I had thought I outgrew in kindergarten, then again at puberty, perhaps once more after graduation. Apparently I was wrong. Welcome to the world of The Player.

I’m starting to think it’s not going to work out between me and MOB. This has nothing to do with the fact that he has two kids, a crazy baby mama, his dad is a mob-boss, he smokes too much chronic or that lately I’m lucky to see him once a week. I just feel like something’s missing. Maybe it’s the phone calls that he hasn’t returned in two weeks? The visits? The sex? Yeah, for sure on the sex. I miss that. He knew how to use what God gave him, I’ll give him that. But there’s something else as well. I’m not sure he loves me anymore.

Why Am I Here?

Before you begin reading this, let me take a minute to explain. Many people wonder why a woman would act like this and even if she did, why the hell would she write about it? Valid questions. For me, it is because I can. Because I have the choice. I realize the fact that men are players doesn’t make it right for a woman too. I’m not justifying that. I will admit that it makes me a helluva force to be reckoned with at times. Why? Well, men never suspect it. They of all people should see the signs if they’re being played but they don’t want to or don’t think they could fall victim to the same “crimes” they commit against women. Remember that song when you were little, anything you can do, I can do better? That has nothing to do with it. This isn’t my mission to screw over the gender. It’s just a little bit of what I go through day to day. I’ve had my heart broken and I’ve broken hearts. I’m not out to hurt anyone. You never know when the next Mr. Right will pop up and I just try not to waste too much time on Mr. Wrong.

Some people that read this tell me they love it because they can remain in their safe little bubbles of normalcy and live vicariously through my exploits. Some link it to woman’s empowermant. Some laugh until the cry. Some are disgusted but continue to read. Some just think I’m a whore and I need therapy. Perhaps I do but I’m not into paying for a psychologist. This is my therapy. What you read upon these pages is my struggle, my crazy, my quick fixes, my coming to terms, my heartache and my triumphs. You either love me or hate me and which oen it is, is not of my concern. If you do hate me, think for a moment and be honest as to why. Is it because you’re sitting in your little glass house wishing you could say the things I say and do the things I do? Or maybe you don’t know how to be completely open and vulnerable. You don’t have to. That’s your choice. I’m making mine, as well. All I can tell you is if you don’t like it, don’t read it.

FAIRYTALE

When I was a girl
I dwelled in a world
of princes, white horses and gold
I lived so it seemed
in a world full of dreams
and the stories my mother once told.
There were diamonds and lace
such a magical place
that I tried to recapture in years
but those stories were void
no pain, only joy
but the princess I played cried real tears.
The men that you meet
aren't always so sweet
although charming sometimes for awhile
but you better beware,
yes, watch them with care
for intentions based deeper than smiles.
Sometimes gold turns to dust
like honor and trust
and you find that you're left all alone
once love has been planted
then taken for granted
you regret the seeds you have sewn.