Whore Season

If any of you happen to watch a little YouTube show called DaveAndRemi, then this term is familiar to you. If not, then what the hell are you waiting for? Go. Watch Whore Season. Right now. I'll wait.... seriously. I'll wait.



All caught up? Good. Now, let me explain a little further. Much like the first signs of spring, there are a few things to watch for to signal the beginning of Whore Season.

(Sidenote: All my opinions and "advice" are geared towards people in monogamous relationships. For all you single folks, please feel free to whore yourself out as much as you like.)

image courtesy of blackgirlsareeasy.com

Whore Season, (which unofficially begins Memorial Day weekend) is that time of year, when it first starts to get warm and sunny. I'm not talking 80 degrees or hot and humid or anything. I mean, it's JUST warm enough to wear something short during the day or go sans jacket or sweater before it starts to get dark. If you're NOT a whore that is. Now, I can see all the women who like to wear revealing clothing when it gets a little nice out, already fuming talking about "Just cuz I like to look good, doesn't mean I'm a whore!" You're right. I'm not talking about you. Unless of course you ARE a whore, then feel free to be offended. I'm talking about that chick that even though it's barely nice enough to not wear a jacket, she's already got the goods out as if to get a jump on all the rest of the whores. Kind of like preemptive whoring if you will. Her style of dress is always inappropriately risque for the time of day and temperature and while she looks good, she also looks like she on the prowl. Of course the way a women dresses alone does not determine whether she gets the title or not, it's just a lot easier to try and single them out. For example, if you dress like a fireman I expect you to put out fires. I'm just saying.

How do you visually spot a whore you ask? Well, it's not a science, but much like rain, there are a few key things to look for. It's hard to describe, but you know it when you see it. As I pointed out already, their attire can usually give them away. Not always because some whores just don't dress like that. But the ones who don't have a problem laying all her "cards" on the table is probably the same one who relies on her "assets" to get her where she needs to go. Kinda like marajiana being a gateway drug. If you don't mind having your ass out, then you probably don't mind someone in it.

Another hint you're in whore presence is, she's willing to coyly flirt with all the males around until one makes a move. Even if they're all friends. Even if they all seem interested. Even if one of them is your man. Now, there's nothing wrong with flirting. I do it myself every now and then. But in a setting  where there are multiple dudes involved, it's a little less than ideal to put yourself in a situation like this especially when you have no intention on really following up if they all express an interest. Also, you just look crazy being all up in everybody's face. I'm just saying.

As I've explained before, there are different types of whores. Smart whores and dumb whores. The smart ones are fully aware of what they're doing and don't care. They have an agenda and you're either helping it or not. The dumb ones are just oblivious and don't even realize that they're dumb ass decisions are leading to whorish behavior. Either one can get you in whole lot of trouble.

On the one hand, the smart whore who's in control of everything probably has dudes who she's hit up, that are ready to do anything for her. That includes knocking somebody's block off. That somebody could be you. Usually these chicks don't have boyfriends and don't have a problem adding someone else's to their stable for the summer. Friend's or otherwise. On the rare occasion they do, the same conditions apply. Your man, someone else's... everybody is fair game. Her boyfriend of course, is none the wiser and believes he has as an angel sent from heaven. Yeah, not so much.

On the other hand, the dumb whores usually don't realize that they've just been whored and then you've got a clinger. What do you do now? Especially if you've already got somebody. She thought that by giving you some, it'd make you like her more. It never dawned on her that you weren't really in it for the long haul, even though you told her you a. had a woman, b. weren't looking for a relationship c. some other generic excuse. At least the smart whores play their position.

Yeah, I got it all worked out and everything.

I realize all these statements I'm making sound wrong. Real wrong. But that doesn't mean that I'm making them up. We all know that chick. Do we know who she's getting it in with? Probably not, but we know she's looking real whorish. There's nothing wrong with a woman being in charge of her sexuality and who she decides she's going to bed, but when the choices become indiscriminate and/or the encounters all have a means to an end.... well that's just being a whore. Y'all fee me?

Now, I'm just having a little fun with the definition here, but I DO feel like anyone who thinks it perfectly ok to help someone else cheat is wrong. (Cheaters, you're wrong too!) These are the people I tend to put in the whore category. I won't lie, I've done it and it was wrong then too. (By my standard I have to put myself in that category for doing it. But we're talking years ago and I'm older and wiser now.) But I can also understand that you never know who you're going to end up liking, fall in love with, etc. In those rare cases where the overwhelming attraction of another person leads you to want to be with them and you believe they're your soul mate or some crap like that (See: Mark Sanford), then more power to you and good luck. I hope it works out. For the more common "I just wanted to hit that" situation, I think its best to just stay away from the whores

When did I become THAT person?

This post was actually written a few months ago, but I never got around to finishing it. I had an experience on my morning commute and I just HAD to write it down.

When did I become THAT person? By that I mean, at what point did I become the person on the train/bus/street that you see and you pretend you don't so you don't have to talk to them??

I've always tried to follow the "rules" of random encounters with people you know. Mind you these are just off the top of my head, but there are unwritten rules that I think most of us have when it comes to situations like those.




1. Don't suck people into unnecessary conversation. You know, the types of exchanges about the weather and such that just fill gaps in time where it's perfectly fine to be quiet but people just can't seem to do it.
2. Don't stop them in odd places (like,  crossing the street, when they're obviously rushing, or stopping and striking up long conversations while they're with other people).
3. Don't interrupt them while a dinner, shows, etc. Places where they'd miss something if they stopped to have a long conversation with you.

Of course there are always going to be exceptions to these rules, but I think it's the most polite way to acknowledge someone while still NOT invading their "space". 


I'd go so far as to say that I'm a pleasant enough person that it wouldn't be a HORRIBLE thing to talk to me for a few minutes, but people don't HAVE to because I don't obligate one to do it. I'm usually the hi & bye type myself so there's no pressure. It makes it even more confusing when I see someone who I used to hang out with on a pretty regular basis and they don't speak. Who does that? Can a sista get a wave? A head nod? Blink at me real fast so I know you saw me. Something. I totally get it if we were just passing acquaintances who really didn't speak to each other all that much. Those are the people that I expect not to put too much effort into speaking to me. I'm OK with that, I do it myself on occasion.

With all that said, as I write this, I sit across from someone who I've had this experience with before. And to my non-surprise, I'm having it again. I learned all too quickly that they did not want to be sucked into ANY type of exchange with me and I've respected that. When I see them, which is actually more often then I'd like, I keep it moving. My thing is, do they know that I see them and choose not to speak or do they think that I don't see them and they're deftly avoiding the pain of having to acknowledge my presence and at least smile? If it's the former, you know what? I can accept that. I really can. It happens. What I can't accept is that when this person realized they didn't like me or didn't feel like they wanted to speak to me anymore years ago, they kept doing it, giving me the illusion that we were cool with each other in some capacity. Da hell was THAT about?? They could have totally saved me some confusion and I would have just been like "oh well". (I've had people abruptly stop speaking to me before because of whatever and while it was kinda messed up, at least I have no false ideas about how to proceed when I see them)

Now I'm re-evaluating my whole screening process. Who am I currently "friends" with that at the drop of hat are going to see me and just keep it moving like I'm a stranger on the street? Is it you? Or maybe you? *side eyeing everyone*

Yes, I have 2 blogs. So. What.

http://webgiirl.tumblr.com/

Fassbuk

Fassbuk. That is all.

Real Quotes From Work

Co-worker: What's wrong with this tape? It's sticky.
Me: *blank stare* It's tape.

The Kinda-Sorta End

Remember that message I told you about? That was it. My defining moment. I had to take destiny into my own hands. Ok, I’m being overly dramatic about it, but it seriously felt like that at the time. In all honesty, I had decided I was going to cheat if Huey would have me. It was wrong, but I’d been wrong before and the only person who was going to shake up my life was me. Weeks, I think maybe months had gone by and I decided one day at the spur of the moment, that I would call Huey. It was the middle of the day and I didn’t know what I was gonna say, except “Hey.” After a couple of false starts, I just did it. It rang. And rang. Then…

“Hello?”

For a split second I was speechless and then…

“Hey, it’s Remi."

I didn’t know what to think. I got the best greeting I never would have expected. =D We had a short, but nice conversation. Caught up a little bit and promised to speak again later. I really don’t remember if we did or not, but I do remember planning to meet up that Friday at local spot in Brooklyn. He worked evenings and would not be off until 12 or so but said he would be out with his friends. Still high off the rush of talking to him again I promptly set about trying to decided what I was going to wear, called the BFF and made her promise she would go with me. She did (that’s why she’s the BFF) and Saturday finally came.

Breathe bitch breathe!

After hours of primping and pruning, the BFF scooped me up and we were off. I called a few times before we left, but didn’t get him. We arrive at “the Spot” fashionably early and he’s not there. My heart sank a little, but I figured he was still getting himself together and he’d be walking through the door before I knew it. After several calls and no response I began to get worried. Have I just been stood up? Is this the big revenge plot he had planned for me? When you worry too much you start thinking all kinds of stupid things, but we stuck around had a drink and we’re having a pretty cool time. We had been there for about an hour when I tried him again. Success!

“Hey!” (insert cheesy grin)

“Oh, you’re not coming?” (ughhh!)

“I can come over?” (looks at the BFF)

“Sure, be right there.”

Now, let me say for the record, I was aware this may not have been the best idea, but I was taking my destiny into my own hands remember? -to be concluded in The End

The Middle

Our separation was bad. I mean REALLY bad. Like, The Last Airbender Bad. Let’s just say it was my fault, tears were shed, things were said and I never saw Huey again. Until MySpace. Ahhh isn’t social networking great? After I recovered from the shock of seeing his name, I pulled myself together and read it. There was no venomous hatred of me, telling me once again about myself. No “screw you’s” or “I still hate you and just wanted to let you know”. Just a friendly message. Something like “Hey Rem, how you doing, gimme a call.”

*blank stare*

Call? CALL? Really?? He wants to speak to ME?? Why??

After I picked up my face, I calmed down a bit and started thinking. I know it’s just so he can get revenge. What would I even say? Do we still have anything in common? So many questions that could only be answered if I just picked up the phone and gave him a shout. The person I had become at that point was interested, but brushed it off. You see, I USED to be a fun, outgoing, lively social butterfly. Somewhere between the time Huey and I broke up and “the message”, all the life had been sucked out of me. Slowly at first and then one day I realized I was no longer the same free spirited person. My Saturdays once spent traipsing about town with my friends and ogling cute boys had now been relegated to trips to Best Buy and Circuit City. Going to the mall and watching whatever boring show happened to be on had become my existence (Sidebar: Do you have any idea how many times I spelled “existence” wrong before I had to look it up to spell it right?) Anyway, what the hell happened to me? I won’t blame Braxton, but I won’t say it wasn’t his fault as much as it was mine. We were two different people and I always knew that, but I thought that was what I needed. Someone grounded and stable. I felt like I was too much of a wild card to be left alone to my own devices. Somewhere in the 7 years we were together, a bit of me rubbed off on him, but A LOT of him rubbed off on me. Our relationship was in a shambles, but neither one of us was uncomfortable enough with it do to the other a favor and just leave.

The Beginning

So, I started my journey of self discovery somewhere around 2007. At that point I was in a long term relationship, which I had been in for about 7 years, I’d been at my job for a couple of years and things were looking pretty decent for me. Things weren’t perfect, but I’d been worse off before so I appreciated where my life was at that point.

I was a HUGE fan of MySpace (who does THAT anymore?) and like most others I was on there ALL the time. Changing my backgrounds, adding more music and all the other annoying things that we hate about MySpace. One day, I was checking my messages and I saw something. Now before I tell you what it was, you know that feeling you get in your stomach when you’re on a rollercoaster and it drops? Yeah, that feeling. Like you left your guts suspended in mid-air hundreds of feet above you. I had barely looked at the content of the message and I was already there.

It was from “Huey” (the names have been changed to protect the innocent). Huey and I had once spent quite a but of time together. This was before “Braxton” my significant other at the time. Actually Huey's and my relationship in a way gave birth to what will from here on be called “The Braxton Years”. Anyway, Huey and I had a very passionate time together. While it was mostly off and on, when it was on, it was ON!  -to be continued in the Middle

My First Blog

I’ve always wanted to start my own blog, but I never really knew how to actually get it started. I mean, there’s a kagillion places to go to set one up, but I could never figure out what I wanted to talk about. And more importantly, who’d be interested in anything I had to say. I’ve got so many things on my mind that I want to discuss at any given moment, it’s hard to pin down what my blog would even be about. So, inspired by my latest obsession with Youtube, my BF’s “blog” on Facebook and a good friend’s writing adventures, I finally said screw it. Let me start at The Beginning.