No More Porcelain Dolls

I am a fragile porcelain doll sitting on the top shelf.
I bruise easily. I have the marks to show.
I sit on this top shelf waiting for him to return.
I miss that little boy who put me up here.
If I spoke who would hear?
I am not suffered a touch, I am not shown love.
I miss that little boy who put me up here.
I have seen other dolls
None of them porcelain.
I have always been above them
Never equal, never below.
I can see the love for the rag doll below me
I hear her cries but I do not feel her pain.
Her pain is not my pain, for me there was no choice.
I miss that little boy who put me up here.
He placed me up here and then he left.
I see a strange man with no soul.
What has he done with the little boy who put me up here?
I see him with those dolls;
I see him but he does not see me
The man with no soul hurts so much and yet continues…To hurt so many.
I see the man with no soul
He is coming for me
I am waiting for the little boy who put me up here!
Stop.
I speak for the very first time.
And then I bruise easily because he wants to hold, tightly, onto me.
I feel the tears well up in my eyes
The tears have spilled onto my hard creased face
I feel the wetness on my cheeks I taste the saltiness on my lips.
I close my eyes so as not to see what he has done to me.
But only to think of what he’s done to the others.
I feel the crack spider my entire body.
I open my eyes only to see the broken lines on my brown porcelain.
And now I can clearly see where my heart used to be.
I want the tears to drip searing his skin,
but the cracks in my face have swallowed all of them.
In my disarray, I look to my left and I look beneath me.
He is beneath me but he is above the rag doll
I see his eyes for the very first time.
I see the little boy who put me up here.
I waited: I left for no other soul.
Isn’t that the little boy who put me up here?

I see his eyes inside the man with no soul
Are you the little boy that put me up here?
He tearfully replied: You and you alone see him.
His eyes turned down unable to face mine
It is time that I climb off of this shelf.
I must move cautiously while moving away
I am already bruised and battered
My brown porcelain cannot stand another blow
The man with no soul does not notice
But the rag doll does.
I mustn’t run, I must walk strong, it must be steady
So as not to miss the way he is letting me go,
Right underneath her nose.
I waited for the little boy that put me up there
And I cautiously descended that shelf.
He is still beneath me and she is still beneath him.
They are both where they belong.
My journey has begun.

When Keeping it Real is Just Hysterical...

So, Donna and I decided, after a long week of working our pretty little fingers to the bone, it was high time to act like “Stella” and “get our groove back”.  What better way to do that than to “Drop it like it’s HOT!” - right?  Well, either I am another breed of Woman or something was very, very wrong with our bar hopping the other night!  I mean, good grief, does anyone dance anymore? 

The DJ did his thing, he mixed it up – a little hip-hop, a little old school, a little southern twang, a little reggae, I’m sayin’ the sounds were on point.  Mic check.  Aiiight! 

The bartenders were attentive and the drinks packed a punch (well strength is relative, Sambuca is strong whether you drink it straight or on the rocks…). 

The brothahs, although not out in droves, were in attendance and looking rather dashing, I might add.  In keeping with the whole vibe here, the ladies were out in droves, and were just dying for a little bit of attention from the guys.  Belly rings and cleavage check.   Aiiight!

Aiiight, so what was the problem then?  One minute everyone was standing around the room, boys on one side and girls on the other. Suddenly, ladies were everywhere, dropping it hotly, every which-a-way!  Not only was the dance floor peppered with scantily clad females but the carpet was also full of dancing divas.

What’s wrong with this picture?  Well, the only folks dancing were the females!  What happened to the guys popping their collars, out for the hunt?  What happened to gals stirring their milkshakes, hoping to get caught?  Males were not leading and the females were certainly not following. I did ask a friend if he wanted to dance, because that’s just me.  He eyed the women dancing in front of us and replied, “Looks like you don’t need us to dance.” 

So, I said to myself, “Self,” (*wink*) “What’s really going on?  Do men feel that because we as women would rather ‘want’ them than ‘need’ them that it changes our roles to the point where asking to dance, at a club, no less, is off limits?  Are women that cut throat?”  Could be.  We are, as a species, the most viscous.  But why is that?  Although I do not have enough space to get deep into this, I do feel that my 2¢ here may help in the “dance floor category” for the coming weeks anyway:

Ladies first, according to some higher power:

I am by no means insinuating that we must dance with any and everyone who makes a B-line for us, every single club night.  However, if you happen to be feverishly dancing in place (insert Beyonce's anything dance here), looking as if you are about to break someone or something off, showing us all what you are working with, there’s no need to shoot a guy down when he tries to “holla” at you. 

How about being thankful that someone noticed your “jiggy” and wanted to get with it.

We all know the “Can I buy you a drink.” line, right?  We all know that he finds you interesting in some sort of fashion and wants to continue the conversation further than that, right?  So, having agreed on the previous thoughts, would you agree not to accept the drink if you don’t expect him to follow you all around the place?  I mean, let’s use some common sense for just a second.  Do you really think that he is buying this drink because he wants to just watch you inhale his $8.50 while dancing with a person who could be so bothered with your thirsty arse?  Come on; let’s keep it real!

If you see a guy and you wanna holla – Do you!  Take the initiative; you may like the results.  Do what I have done – but ONLY if you are interested in further conversation.  (Shhh...It’s a secret, just between you and me.)  Buy him a drink.  Trust me on this one.

Gentlemen, for you, I saved the best for last:

First of all, we do appreciate you.  Having said that, let me say this – please come out to play with your “A” game (*wink*). You must be this tall to ride this ride…Okay, some (clearing throat) ladies, will settle for any game at all.  Those of us who are always on our “A” game have higher expectations.  The “A” gamers, male and female, can spot each other, instantly.  The laid back, whatever-ish (is that a word?) nonchalant thought is not the most appealing.  When you don’t look interested, we think you are not interested.  We really do follow your lead.

As women we must be able to look up to you. I can stand eye to eye with you and still look up to you, ya feel me?

Oh and wherever you bit those pick-up lines. please spit them out, walk away and let them die where they land.  We listen to the same music that you do, so when you quote some line, trying desperately to gain cool points, we think it’s unbecoming of a gentleman (translation – corny). So cut it out.  When I overheard a strapping young man get turned down the other night, “Mami, can you back that thang up for me?” I secretly wished that I had written this little info a little earlier.  You have to love a man that goes for the gusto though, right?

On the other hand, I must throw a little jab toward the guy that grabbed my arm as I stood, stood not danced, with full drink in hand and told me that we were dancing.  I declined, asking if he would like to dance on the next song, I mean, I had a full shot of Sambuca in hand and I did want to dance!   This guy says to me, “If you don’t dance with me, then I’m going to ask your girlfriend.” Oooh, he was mad at me!

“Okaaaay… try your luck, I’m the nice one, she’s the evil twin.” I said shaking my head, holding in my laughter, and waiting for the other shoe to drop as he approached Donna.  (“If your girl starts acting up then you take her friend”…but what kind of friend would go?)

Well needless to say, from the barrage of daggered non-verbal communication from my BFF, he didn’t dance, didn’t walk with chest out, didn’t sort of…exist afterwards.  Not then and not at all that night.

But I DID warn him ;-)

I hope this little bit of info gets more people onto the dance floor.  Ok, let me keep it real.  Someone better ask me to dance this weekend or I may have to get a little vicious myself!

This is, for all intents and purposes, fortunate or un...my Life.

Aisis