I Confess

Check it out, yo! I got a confession to make. I know, you probably wont believe this cuz I be lying all the time, but I swear to you it's true. I can see you right now looking at your computers with skepticism. What outlandish tall tale is Rashan gonna tell now? What can he say now to get us all emotionally involved only to pull the rug out from under us at the last minute? Why he be making stuff up all the time? I understand if that's your reaction. But I'm gonna tell you anyway. You may not believe me, and I am aware that I've cried wolf far too many times to get upset if you doubt my veracity. But here goes my confession: Last Wednesday, I traveled 5.5 hours to hang out with a woman I met on the internet.





I know what you are thinking. Rashan + Woman from internet = Crazy, dramatic story time. But I have to tell you that it's nothing like that at all. I know my history, and my self professed theory that everyone on the internet is crazy. I know, I've repeated that so many times that it's like a mantra. Post about your blog crush; I'll say "everybody on the internet is crazy." Ask me about what I think about the latest hot blogger chick; my reply "everybody on the internet is crazy." Try to get me to come hang out with you; my inner thought: "Uhhh, no. Everybody on the internet is crazy." But this situation is different.





I've been talking to her for a while now. What started on the internet has moved past that. Marathon phone calls, forgoing sleep to talk to her, it just was all so "Teena.ge Love Af.fair" you know, if Alicia was mad old and never met the person she was singing about. Anyway, the opportunity arose to meet in person, and I jumped at it. She lives up North, so we planned to meet halfway in Hillsville, Virginia, home of the .19 % Negroid population. It's a little town in the middle of nowhere, but they had hotels and restaurants and it was perfectly halfway in driving length according to M.apqu.est: Like 5 hours and 30 minutes. We met on Wednesday, July 16th!! (always has to have 2 exclamation points following it.)





You still with me? Think I'm making it up? I promise this is the truth... Let's continue. So, we arrived within 10 minutes of each other and gave each other a big hug. I have to admit, it was a little weird at first. I mean, hanging with someone that you've been talking to for awhile, but never interacted with in the flesh is enough to weird you out. I tried my best to hide my uneasiness so as to not make her any more uneasy. Eventually, we got past any uncomfortableness we may have been feeling and settled down and had a good time. We pretty much just hung out and watched TV and talked and enjoyed each other's company. She made me watch Pro.ject Ru.nway, which was bearable because I was drinking beer. It's like the beer canceled out the ghey qualities of the show. LOL. We also watched Ru.n's Ho.use, where my new favorite phrase was coined: Boneless Chicken Dinner. It's an egg. LOL Okay, I digress but that should prove that I'm telling you the truth. Who makes up that level of detail for a lie?




There wasn't much to do in Hillsville. We discussed going to a nearby winery or drive in movie, but didn't. Besides, it was more a trip to get to know each other in person. The second day we had Mexican and Margaritas. I brought a bottle of Patron, but we never got around to drinking it. I'm gonna take my confession one step further. I'm in like. I really like this woman. Perhaps, I should pretend that I don't, but you know, whatever! She knows and now you know. Stop shaking your head at me. I swear this is all true. I didn't make any of this up. No embellishment...





Oh, I get it. You need visual proof, right? Maybe a few pictures or something? Okay, well check this out. Click this link and you will see that I am not joking. Go ahead, I'll wait... So, right now either you are clicking the link or saying to yourself, "Rashan is trying to trick me. I'm not gonna click the link." Again, I promise it's real.





You back? Good. So now you know I was telling the truth...and yes, that is who you think it is!

Confessions: I Hit A Girl

The rage boiled in my throbbing brain and before I knew it, I was grabbing her. Fists balled up, I let loose with a left hand that landed squarely on her temple. I knew I was not supposed to put my hands on a female, but I had to assert myself as a man. No more would I tolerate her disrespect...

I'm getting ahead of myself. If you read my comments on Diva's post yesterday, then you already know what I'm writing about. This isn't some domestic violence story; its the story of how me and my sister became cool. I guess I should start at the beginning...

My sister had terrorized me for as long as I can remember. She is two years older than me and always asserted her role as the oldest. My role as the younger brother meant that she could antagonize me whenever the mood struck. It could be something as simple as turning off the Atari when I was about to beat her high score or something as violent as throwing a can of soup at my head. I remember once when we still lived in New York, she tore my Whodini poster off the wall for no good reason (that I can remember.) When I had the nerve to talk back about it, she ripped it to shreds, laughing at me with her friend Sherri. That's what I lived with for many years. I seem to remember her also banging my head on a coffee table, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the hurt I felt at being humiliated by my sister.

All my life, I was told not to hit girls. Matter of fact, I don't know if it was something that had to be told to me more than once. For the most part, I was a good kid and never overtly disobeyed my mother's life lessons. So, instead of fighting back when my sister slapped both my ears and yelled "Stereo!", I just took it. For 13 long years, I was her punching bag. Until this Wednesday night in Savannah, Georgia.

I remember it was a Wednesday because Magnum PI was on. That was my favorite show at the time. It came on at the same time as Dynasty, her favorite show. By this time, we had escaped from New York and were living in the Dirrrty at my grandmother's house. The house was full of 4 generations of women: Grandma Cleo (my great grandmother), my grandmother, my mother and my sister. Throw in me and my little brother, and we had a packed 3 bedroom house. We didn't have our own bedrooms. My sister slept in the living room, I slept in the family room, Lord knows where my brother slept: I think in the room with my mother. Over the years, we had many different sleeping arrangements, from couches, to sofa beds, to cots, to palettes on the floor. I guess that's why I can sleep anywhere now. I don't need a bed to fall asleep, I didn't really have my own until I was in my 20's. But I digress, although its not a total digression, because I needed you all to get the picture of how the house was laid out. There was no privacy, no retreating to your bedroom when you got an attitude. I suppose we could have gone to the garage to sulk, but with the flying roaches and the Savannah humidity, that was really a last option. Let me move on...

At the time, the only color tv that we had access to was in the family room. My sister and I used to fight to get control of the TV after Wheel of Fortune and Jeopardy went off and my grandmother retreated to her room (which by the way had a TV with cable.) We had to be pretty sneaky to be the first in the room. Whoever finished their homework first, was more than likely gonna be handed the remote after Alex Trebek dipped. This Wednesday night, I was the victor. I watched Unsolved Mysteries at 8 o clock, but was really just waiting for Magnum to come on at 9. I had control of the TV, the night was mine. At 8:57, my sister came in the room and grabbed the remote from me. She turned to channel 4 like she was gonna watch Dynasty.

Normally when this would happen, I would just go to the other room and watch Magnum on the cheap black and white TV with the rabbit ears. But this night, something came over me. I didn't want to acquiesce to my sister. I wanted to watch Magnum on the big TV. I earned it. I sat through the local news with that annoying Dou.g We.athers as well as Wheel and Jeopardy and darnit, I was in control of the TV (that was the phrase we used.) Why should my big sister just waltz in here and take what I rightfully earned? She's been doing this my whole life, but enough is enough.

At first I told her to give me the remote. Not surprisingly she refused. This went on for a few minutes. "Gimme the remote" "No" "Nikki, Gimme the remote" "No." Then I decided to take it by force. At 13, I was bigger than she was at 15 and I figured I could just snatch it from her. How bout she had a death grip on that remote. It took far more effort than I thought to get it from her, but I finally did. I turned to channel 9 and just caught the opening credits of my show. Thinking it was over, I sat back on the sofa and relished my small victory. That's when Nik walked up to the tv, and unplugged it. Word? You gonna do it like that? I was getting mad. I went and plugged the tv back in, leaving the remote in the spot that I was just sitting. She picked it up and turned right back to Dynasty. Another struggle ensued; Her gripping the remote, me trying to pry it out of her hands. And then she did it... My loving sister swung the remote control at me. This was like 1988 and it wasn't one of those small ones that are out now. It was a huge, industrial strength remote. And it hit me right upside my head.

The rage boiled in my throbbing brain and before I knew it, I was grabbing her. Fists balled up, I let loose with a left hand that landed squarely on her temple. I knew I was not supposed to put my hands on a female, but I had to assert myself as a man. No more would I tolerate her disrespect. I threw punches like a madman, some landed, others missed. I wasn't really hitting Nikki, I was punching away the years of torture I experienced at her hands. When it was over (and I can't remember who broke it up) I felt relieved. I didn't get to watch Magnum that night, but I got something that much better: my dignity!

From that point on, my sister and I have been mad cool. I can't recall a single argument after that day. We actually became friends. I remember when I went to high school, she was a junior. There was a tradition at my high school that the upper classmen would take the freshmen's drawers. It was kinda like a wedgie, except they would pull them so hard that the elastic band would break. It always seemed kinda gay to me, but that was what they did. I didn't have to worry about anybody trying me, because my sister had her friends look out for me (well, that and the fact that I dressed in all black and kept a mean mug like Cube and 'em for my entire freshman year.) When she went to college at Spelman, I used come to Atlanta to hang with her and her cool college friends. When I was a broke college kid, her and her boyfriend at the time drove to Savannah, to pick me up for a Prince concert and then drove me back the same night so I could take my finals. When I moved to Atlanta, she let me and my girl stay with her until we got on our feet. The list can go on and on. We really have been nothing but cool since that night.

Although we have our Don't ask, Don't tell policy, I know that if I ever need anything, Nikki has my back. And that goes both ways. Whatever she needs, she got it. I wonder if we would have been this cool if I never fought back and let her run over me for my entire life. And that's the story of how one night changed my relationship with my sister forever.

BTW, I know I went a little link crazy with all the YouTube joints...

Confessions: Barbie Girl Pt 2

This is the last one, no part 3. LOL

Panic swirled in my head as I tried to piece together the previous evening’s events. I was never one to be sexually indiscriminate, so the sight of a naked white body next to mine confused me. Or perhaps it was the Canadian club that was messing with me. Either way, my first instinct was to jump out of the bed, even though I wasn’t sure that my legs could accomplish that goal. Wait a minute… I thought to myself. You are still fully dressed. Your jeans aren’t even unbuttoned. Ain’t no way you did anything lascivious last night. I can’t explain the feeling of relief that came over me. I felt like a man that had been given a reprieve from the electric chair. Not so much because she was white, but because if I couldn’t remember it, there’s no telling what kind of freaky deaky unprotected stuff could have happened. I could have a Halfrican American kid living out in Kansas. She could have had me burning like the Watts Riots. I could have caught a Kobe case (or whoever the 1999 equivalent was.) Anyway, the relieved feeling that I had didn’t last long because Barbie was still in my hotel room. I tried to find a way to get her the hell out.

Ay yo, wake up!
Huuuuh??
Yo, its morning. Why are you still here?
Huuuh?

I wasn’t getting anywhere. I wasn’t sleepy anymore and I didn’t want to just sit there while she slept, so I did what any panicked Black man in KCK would do. I got the f*ck outta dodge. That’s right. I left her in my room, while I drove off, still a little drunk from the previous night. I saw just about everything there was to see in KCK, then I drove to KCMO and explored. I did just about everything I could do to avoid going back to that room. 3 hours later, I returned to the hotel to find that Barbie was no longer there. There’s that feeling of relief again. I laid down in my bad and vowed once again to stop drinking…

The next week, my job sent my homeboy out to Kansas to help me train these newbies. It was perfect. Lorenzo was one of the coolest cats I knew, and I was no longer the token Black guy; I was one of two. LOL Lorenzo and I used to call ourselves “The Insurance Thugs” which I’ve been told is mad corny, but at the time was dope to me and everybody else. He was the type of cat to smoke a L in the van at work and then come back and be better than ever. He was quasi married to Angela, a crazy chick that nobody but him liked. Their personalities were as different as fire and ice, but they somehow managed to make it work. We rode out together everyday after work. Watching the basketball games (My beloved Knicks were in the NBA finals) and finding cool spots in KCMO where the Black people were. When the weekend came, our co workers again asked me to hang out with them. I was understandably nervous at the prospect. Lorenzo didn’t quite understand so I told him the story.

Dog, you lying.
I wish. It was crazy.
What about your girl? Did you tell her?
Nah, nothing happened. I’ll just keep that one to myself. But that’s why I ain’t rolling with them.

So, I didn’t. A few other co workers had a get together so we hit that one up instead. It was deep in the hood of KCMO, but I felt at home there. The next week was the same old stuff: Working, dodging invitations, hanging out with Lorenzo. At the end of the 3rd week it was time to go home. My newfound coworkers wouldn’t take no for an answer and planned an outing for our last day in the KCK. Lorenzo convinced me to go head and go so we got up with them. It was a fun filled evening. I can’t remember all of it, but I remember we went to a hood club with some black co workers, then to a dance club with the white, then even later we wound up at some strip club in the middle of a corn field with dancers that expected you to tip just because they walked by Then it was back to another club that reminded me of a rave. Crazy. I don’t remember what I was drinking (or more accurately, what I was NOT drinking), but I do remember that at some point in the night, Barbie showed up.

Hey, how come you didn’t call me?
I didn’t have your number.
You coulda asked “such and such*
Yeah, hey this is my homeboy Lorenzo.
How you doing?

He flashed me the look indicating that he knew that was Barbie. He mouthed “stay strong” at me as Barbie and I talked. I tried to blend into the crowd dancing with the one Black girl in the club. No, really, she was the only one. Barbie was hanging tough though, never really letting me out of her sight for two long and buying me drinks at every opportunity. Did I mention that I was an alcoholic back in the day? Anyway, the night ended at one of the co workers apartments. I remember we were listening to music and Lorenzo was rolling a J, but after that its all a blur….

The next morning Lorenzo and I met up in the hotel lobby. We had to check out and then drive back to the airport. We had the following conversation while sipping on the complimentary orange juice. It was confession time.

Yo, I was so drunk last night.
I know kid, me too.
Son, I think I did something bad. Yo, you remember Barbie?
Yeah?
I think…She came back to the room with me.
You hit that?
Man, I did.
What about your girl?
I know. I can’t believe I did that.
Man, I’m sorry.
Man, I don’t even know how I’m gonna look my wiz in her eyes when I get back
Just be strong, homey!
I’m gonna tell her. I have to!
Noooo, don’t do that, yo!
I feel so guilty, maybe she’ll understand
Noooo, my brother. Take this to the grave. I won’t say anything and you shouldn’t either. I got your back.
What if she asks what I did last night?
Tell her everything except that I boned a white girl. Leave that part out man.

There was more to the conversation, but you get the point. One brother messed up, the other brother looked out for him. This is my confession. I helped Lorenzo get away with cheating on his girl with Barbie. What, you thought the story was gonna be about me? LOL I crack myself up. Y’all were really getting mad at me, weren’t you?Thought Rashan X sold out!!! Well, I didn’t…at least not back in 1999. That’s a whole nother confession. LMAO!!!

Confessions: Barbie Girl pt 1

I tried to get it all in one post, but then somebody distracted me. Now you get 2 parts. I'll try to write it as quickly as possible, but well, you know, it is what it is. I already had one confession this week.

Memorial Day 1999 – Savannah Georgia

The air hung thickly in the Savannah , Georgia night. I was working… on a holiday no less. I lamented the numerous barbecues I missed out on as I toiled away for much less money than I was worth. I was acting manager, a position that came with the prestige of the title, but with none of the perks. I still wasn’t getting a salary, but at least I only had to talk to customers in escalated situations. It was dead that night. Nobody was calling in on a holiday, much less at 9 PM. I sat talking to my soon to be girlfriend and my current almost jump off about anything and nothing just trying to pass the time. I still remember what I was wearing: Red Fila shorts and a matching red and blue Fila shirt. I know I know, but it was 1999 and I was fresh. LOL Anyway, the night and the previous nights clubbing had my head swimming, so I stepped outside to smoke a black. I usually went in the back and watched the airplanes in the adjoining airstrip, but this night I decided to sit in my ride and listen to music. I planned on taking an extended break, perhaps even taking a nap in the front seat laid back. That’s when she walked up on me…

Mr. Wel.don, can I see you for a minute when you finish your smoke?

Man, what was she doing here? LQ was the head of the whole center, a short, military woman that brought that same tenacity to her job. At times it was comical, but I wouldn’t want to be on wrong end of her boot camp tactics. I was a little concerned when I saw her at 10 PM on a holiday, especially since I was slacking on n the job instead of watching the troops. I quickly extinguished my cigar and headed back in the building after a quick pit stop to wash the smell of tobacco off me. She was waiting in her office when I arrived.

Mr. We.ldon. Have a seat.

I obliged. Now, I figured that she was gonna say something about me deserting my post, as she often talked in military terms with her subordinates, but I wasn’t going to volunteer anything.

Did you enjoy your break?

Yes, Ma’am.

I wanted to talk to you about something.

Uh oh, here it comes. Really it wasn’t that serious, even managers are allowed to take a break, right?

Okay!

We have an opportunity to open up another center in Kansas . I would like for you to head out there and train them.

Wow, really?

You've been doing a great job for us and I think this could be a good thing for your career.

When would the training be?

Can you leave tomorrow?

Huh? Um, I guess I can. I mean, this is just coming a little out of nowhere. I’m definitely grateful for the opportunity.

We talked a while longer about the logistics. I would fly out from Savannah to Kansas City, Missouri (Henceforth KC MO) the following morning I would then drive from KC MO to Kansas City Kansas (Henceforth KC K) in a rental car provided by the company. They also got me an extended stay hotel and a company credit card for emergency expenses. I knew I wasn’t gonna use that. I would just pay my own way, and get reimbursed through per diem. I was ready to roll. When I got there I wasn’t quite prepared for what I would find there.

The majority of the staff were melanin challenged. The majority of everybody around me was melanin challenged. In fact in the city of KC K , it seemed like I was one of only a few African Americans around. No matter, I can work with and get along with anyone, but it was just strange to me. The people were mad hospitable offering to show me around, cracking jokes with me, and learning from what I was teaching. We all got along great. So when Friday night came and they asked me to join them for a night on the town, I gladly accepted. That’s where I met Barbie.

Barbie isn’t her real name, it was Katie or Ashleigh or Jillian; something that lets you know that there aren’t too many brothers in the blood line. She was a friend of one of the people I was hanging out with. She was literally a life sized Barbie doll, from the alabaster skin, to the golden yellow hair, which she annoyingly flipped every 8 seconds. (I timed it LOL) She had that classic Barbie thing going on, big up top, on the bottom not so much. Small waist, tig ol bitties that I think were fake. Her first words to me were: Do you play football?

Whatever, chick. Don’t try to gas me. Although I know I have broad shoulders, I’m about 4 inches to short to make an impact on the gridiron. But whatever, for some reason she was really into me. I thought of the words that James, one of the few Black employees, dropped on me when he heard I was hanging out with his white co workers. He said..

"Man, these white girls out here are a different breed. You don't even have to try and you gonna fall into some white p*ssy."

I laughed it off of course. I wasn't interested. I had a girl or two at home I was trying to get at, and they had one thing in common. They definitely were not white. Call em dark and darker. Anyway the white co workers took me to get drinks at River Walk in KC MO, I think its called. But even before we got there, they had me drinking Canadian Club, so I was pretty blitzed. Barbie was hanging on me all night as we bar hopped. There was a group of about 10 of us that went out that night, but inevitably Barbie would wind up sitting next to me at the table. She was mad touchy feely, always brushing up against me or rubbing her (no) booty on me on the dance floor. At some point of the night, she asked me where I was staying. I don't remember this, but apparently I told her the hotel was and my room number. It musta been the liquor talking for me.

Anyway, I got back to my room and slept off the alcohol. I spent that Saturday cleaning up a mess between the potential jump off and the soon to be girlfriend. Apparently I had to choose, but that's a different story for a different blog. That night I had no plans except some phone boning and possible getting something to eat. Around 7 o'clock, there was a knock on my door. I opened it up to find Barbie standing there with a 5 pack of Sam Adams and a pizza.

Room Service... she joked.

I wasn't really laughing but I let her in anyway. It would have been rude not to. We sat around and chatted for awhile until it started getting uncomfortable. . I then suggested that she call her friends (my coworkers) so we could go out. Some of them came to my hotel room armed with that damn Canadian Club whisky. We took shots, (racist statement time: Why does it seem like white people always have something to celebrate? And why must they celebrate with shots?) I can't remember how many I took, but I know after awhile I just wanted them to get the hell outta my room so I could fall asleep. They were still there when I succumbed to sleep. The next thing I remember was the morning. Every morning I was in Kansas, the people in the room next to mine would blast Bills Bills Bills by Destiny Child when they were getting ready for work. It woke me up every time, and this day was no exception. When my eyes actually opened, a feeling of panic overtook me. I looked over and saw Barbie laying next to me, covered by a sheet, but obviously butt ass naked. What the hell happened here last night???

Confessions: The Stalkee Becomes The Stalker

You asked for it. By an overwhelming margin, people wanted to hear the story of how I became a stalker. Well, how can I deny my blog fam? If you've ever read my blog, then you know I have a tendency to meet crazy people that don't like to go away no matter how much I tell them to. Well, one time I found myself doing something similar. Here goes nothing. The Stalkee Becomes The Stalker...


She stood silently, mouth slightly agape, her visage flickering in the candlelight. A slight hint of her hazel eyes flashed through her trademark squint. As she leaned in closer to me, I felt compelled to maneuver my hands under the edges of her shirt which fell an inch short of her waistline. Tenderly caressing the smooth skin of her back, I gently moved her a little closer to me. Our eyes locked first, followed closely by our lips. A first kiss to remember for a lifetime...



Wait a minute.. Let me not start in the middle, I should back it up a bit. I don't think anyone was reading my old blog when I first wrote about her. I made the mistake of using her real name (which I wont do this time), and rather than edit the post, I deleted it. Of course back then I wasn't willing to admit that I was in fact displaying stalking tendencies. To me it was a potential love story. Enough hemming and hawing, I guess I should tell the story.


I had known Renee since I was a senior in high school and she was a freshman. We lived around the corner from each other and rode the same bus to school each morning. We were friendly, I guess, but she was a little girl to me. Not that I was so grown up, as a 16 year old at the start of the school year, but she was 3 grades behind. Renee had a little bit of a crush on me, which I encouraged seeing as how I wasn't exactly beating the girls off of me in high school. But all in all, it was completely innocent. We would talk on the way to school and in Chorus class. Now that I think about it, she was my dance partner in one of our choral concerts. I remember how good she smelled. See, I'm talking like a stalker already and I haven't even gotten to that part of the story yet. Let's get out of high school and move on to college.


A couple of years went by and I was starting my second junior year at Savannah State University. I saw Renee standing in front of Payne Hall. I didn't really forget about her, because I passed her house everyday, but I wasn't thinking about her. College had been good to me. Apparently what passes for nerdiness in high school translates into a sort of intellectual coolness in college. As a result, I had loads of fun Freshman and Sophomore years. My first Junior year was all about Lisa, my first real serious girlfriend. So, no, I wasn't really thinking about Renee. Until I saw her that day. She was all grown up. No longer the little girl that used to follow me around school, she had transformed into a beauty.


I was attracted instantly to this older version of Renee. Physically, she was just gorgeous without making an effort. You know the type that can wear jeans and a t-shirt and throw their hair in a ponytail and still be dead fine? That was Renee. (Here is gonna be some extra crazy stalking stuff... but here's her picture. This is what she looks like now. If you know her, don't let her know that I used to stalk her. LOL) It was her beguiling smile and the way she would laugh like her life depended on it that drew me in. The fact that I had a girlfriend that I'd been with for a year, pulled me back. The reality was that as cool as she was, I wasn't the type to type to stray and who knows what Renee was thinking. So I kept it cool with her. Talking and flirting when we would see each other, but never pushing up on her. We stayed friendly throughout the rest of my college days, but of course I did my thing and she did hers so we didn't see each other that often.

Renee and my paths crossed again towards the end of 1997. It was a real interesting time in my life. I had met some eclectic people that joined my circle, one of which was Lesbian Roommate. By sheer coincidence, Renee and Lesbian Roommate were friends. So, Renee started hanging out with us at our place on 40th and Paulsen. I was girlfriend-less at the time for the first time in 3 years, and Renee was looking good to me. Even better than that, I loved the way her mind worked. It was often put on display during some of our all night hangout sessions. Those were crazy. My friends and I would light incense and candles, sit on the floor and talk about anything and everything for hours on end. Most nights, Lesbian Roommate and I would have people crashing at the spot, just because they fell asleep while talking about infinity or something faux deep like that. And for the most part, we weren't high or drunk. Just stimulating, intellectual conversations with friends. My favorite sessions were the ones that included Renee.

One night after all the rest of the crew had long since fallen asleep, Renee and I remained awake talking the night away. As she got up to leave, something, perhaps the candlelight, perhaps the Maxwell playing in the background, came over us. We kissed for the first time that night. You already read about that. Now I should tell you what happened next.

"You aren't ready for me, Rashan."

I remember that phrase like it was yesterday. I knew what she meant since we had talked about it during one of our marathon conversations. Truth be told, it had only been a few months since me and Lisa broke up, and I wasn't ready to jump into another relationship. And Renee was not the type that you give less than 100% to. She wasn't rebound girl, she was wifey material and she knew it. I was taken aback that she cut it off before it really even got started. I still remember the dimple on her left cheek as she smiled and kissed me goodbye that night. I thought if only this happened a little later, everything would be cool. Renee and I could be together if only the timing was right.

I know you are wondering when the stalking is gonna start and here it comes. This confession isn't easy to make, ya know! The rest of the week, my only thoughts were those of Renee. I laid awake at night daydreaming about her soft lips upon mine, the sweet smell at the nape of her neck, her baby smooth skin. I ain't gonna front, I had it bad. Any bad cliche you can think of, I was doing it. Staring at the picture that we took together at my Memorial Day BBQ - check. Listening to her voice on my answering machine - check. Writing horrendous poetry - check. I thought of strategies to win her over, to make her forget that I was just getting out of a relationship, to show her that I was ready to make her mine. I thought of ways to see her without making it seem creepy. But the manifestation of these desires was just that: creepy.

On several occasions, I went to see her at the mall where she worked part time under the guise that I was buying CDs. I would conveniently stop by when I knew she was working. She always greeted me kindly and had conversation with me, but there is no way that she didn't know that I was only there to see her. Ain't that much good music in the world. One afternoon, I actually sat in the parking lot until I saw her pull up and then walked up on her like it was a coincidence. I know, that's some stalker stuff right there. I also just happened to be riding through campus at the time when I knew she would be walking from the library to the student center. As a graduate, I had no business being on campus, but just the chance of seeing Renee was enough for me. At the time, I knew what I was doing, but somehow didn't realize that she could (probably) see right through me. To her credit, she never called me out on my stalkerish behavior, but she had to know. This went on for about 3 weeks.

One day it all hit the fan. I went to visit my grandmother, whose house I grew up in around the corner from Renee. As I was driving past Renee's house, I found myself looking in the driveway for her familiar car. Tres stalkeresque!!! All of a sudden it hit me. Rashan, you are losing your cool. You are on the verge of being a full out stalker. You hated when your stalker did that to you. What are you doing? Are you really gonna be one of those sucka-for-love-ass-tricks that you make fun of all the time? Get a grip, homey!

So, I did. It was like an epiphany. I turned off the creepy and got back to being Rashan. I found my rebound girl and although she turned out to be even creepier and stalkerish than I ever could conceive of, I realized that Renee was right. I wasn't ready for her. I needed time to not be serious. I needed to keep it light for awhile before I was ready to dive back into a relationship. Hell, I needed a damn intervention for all the crazy stuff I was doing.

I saw Renee again a couple of years ago. Like most refugees from Savannah, she's living in the Atlanta area. As we conversed at dinner I thought about the crazy things I did back then and said a silent prayer of thanks that I got my mind right. Renee is still the type of woman I'd like to end up with one day, but I'm glad that I know no matter how stimulating the conversation, or how attracted I am, there is no excuse for crazy stalkerish behavior. This was just my time to slip up, I guess.

And that my friends is the story of how the stalkee became the stalker. These are my confessions...

Pick Your Poison

So, I see I got the confessions popping off. I'm such a Svengali in the blog world. LOL But yo, my bad about yesterday. I kinda dipped out on the blog scene. No writing, no commenting. I had a killer migraine that lasted almost 24 hours. I know what usually does it to me... too much caffeine. Only I haven't had anything resembling caffeine in quite some time. I gave up coffee, and only have chocolate like once every 2 months (or whenever my sister makes brownies.) The other thing my neurologist said is a migraine trigger is nuts, although I don't believe him. That being said, I gave up peanut butter for awhile only to realize when I tried it again, that I am allergic to peanuts. How does that happen? I'm good for 32 years, and in my 33rd years, peanuts make me start wheezing and close up my airways. I don't know what that's about.

I said all that to say this. This lady I work with made some banana bread, and brought some without nuts especially for me. I ate a few bites at work and it was delicious. Thirty minutes later, my head is killing me. I can't hardly focus, and it was virtually impossible to keep my left eye open because of the pain. I toughed it out and finished my day, but when I got home I just fell out. No blogging, no responding to the interesting emails I received, no extraneous phone conversations. Just me, my pillow and my comforter over my head. Usually a hot shower and some sleep take care of the pain in my head, but I woke up this morning still feeling like boiled garbage, so much so that I immediately picked up the phone and told work that I was gonna be late. After a couple of hours the drugs kicked in, and I went to work, but it wasn't until about 7 o clock that I was feeling like my old self. I don't wanna blame the banana bread but...

Anyway, I owe y'all a confession. It was hard because I've admitted so much crazy stuff on the blog already. I told you about my knack for taking what's not mine, cheating on my college girlfriend with a girl that played me, about messing with married women, answered 50leven questions honestly from bloggers (I need to do that again. That was dope!) about love in the club with a mentally challenged chick, etc etc etc... (If you haven't read the stories, that last one sounds worse than it really is. LOL) It was hard to think of anything I haven't told you. I came up with some choices though. We gonna do this democratic style. No, that doesn't mean that we will damage our chances of winning the general election by smearing each other in the primary. I mean I'm gonna let you guys vote on which confession you want to read. Here are 7 choices. I'm gonna make the titles vague enough that you still want to read after the teaser.

1. Rashan X and the Barbie Girl: A Tale of Miscegenation

2. Rashan: The Stalkee Becomes The Stalker

3. Rashan's Adventures in Sexual Harassment

4. Rashan's Attempt to Give A Girl A Nervous Breakdown

5. Rashan Gets Cuckolded

6. Rashan Turns Down a Threesome

7. Rashan commits the 7 Deadly Sins

Post which confession you would most like to read in the comments and that will be Thursday's post, provided no one brings any more banana bread to work. LOL. I'll probably also write the rest of these confessions sometime later when I'm stuck for blog post ideas. And don't worry, Jameil, none of these stories will have anything too explicit in them. Aiight, then. Peace!