She Hate Me

This past weekend the band rented a couple of vans and headed out for a gig in Las Vegas Nevada. Steve, the bass player, and I had only a few hours of sleep between the two of us, but the excitement of the gig was enough to sustain us. We were hired to back an artist who goes by the name LaFelle. Andre' Lafelle Roberson is an extremely talented young man who arrived at his very first rehearsal with us with two beautiful black women-his back-up dancers. But I'll get to them in a minute. The gig, as I mentioned, was in Las Vegas at a mega mansion in the new development of Red Rock. The three-story house, situated in a gated community within a gated community, was equipped with a beautiful infinity pool that appeared to trail off into the desert and a home theater that rivaled anything I've seen.



The band arrived at the venue and we all marveled at the beauty of this place. We were further taken aback by the stage. It was situated in the center of the infinity pool. When we arrived, the models were rehearsing and we knew right away that it would be an evening to remember.

Back to the back up dancers. The night of the first rehearsal, I took it upon myself to flirt with one of them. She was the darker complected of the two and very attractive to me. My flirtations seemed to be working so I figured I would further pursue the matter in Vegas. I greeted the two dancers at the 2nd rehearsal, and even got some close-up time with the young lady I was attracted to (let's call her Cat (no, it's not her real name-but close)). I grabbed Cat's hand and pulled her close to me and she sat on my lap as we discussed various topics with the rest of the band. In my book, I would consider this progress. Eventually she dismissed herself and we all went back to chatting and waiting for the models to finish their endless rehearsal.



Later on in the day I went to speak with Cat, but she, all of sudden, developed an attitude. I had no idea where it came from. I decided that putting distance between the two of us wouldn't be the worst of ideas-so I avoided her for the rest of the day.

After we got the opportunity to set up, warm up, and rehearse, we all packed into the mini-van and headed back to the spot where we had holed up for the day to change and get back for the performance. When we arrived, it was like a scene out of Hollywood. There were bright lights-the searchlight type that let people know from miles around that an event is taking place. There was a red carpet, complete with all the models of the fashion show waiting to greet all who arrived. This felt star-studded. Lafelle would be the opening act, the fashion show would follow, and then Grammy Award winning artist John B would take the stage and close out the night.

I was nervous earlier because we had only rehearsed with Lafelle once-and all of his music was original. I was extremely concerned. But once we were able to warm-up, it became obvious to me that Wisdom Soul was truly a professional band that could meet and exceed the expectations of any artist or audience. We took the stage and Lafelle did his thing. The dancers were beautiful and the crowd really enjoyed the show.

Afterwards, I felt relieved that the show went off as well as it did. But I was a little exhausted-I needed a stiff drink. I ordered a scotch straight-up, relaxed and took in the scene. The rest of the band was on cloud-9! They were really enjoying themselves, and I enjoyed watching them. As usual, I find it difficult to really let myself go when I know that there is work to be done. I surveyed my surroundings trying to hone in on another angle to make this kind of money. I've made money in my day, but certainly not anything close to the type of money that puts you in the company of the people I was in that evening. My mind searched desperately for answers, angles, solutions, but I think I was too exhausted to be effective. My mind wandered back and forth from solutions to Cat. I saw her and the other dancer sitting together at a table but chose not to approach-I was still a little bitter from earlier that day.

We gathered together, took photos, discussed different ideas and just enjoyed the evening. After my second drink, the bitterness I felt toward Cat began to wane and I made my way over to her as she talked with our drummer. I sat behind her as she continued her conversation. I began rubbing her leg to get her attention, and then focused on giving her a back rub. Slowly she began to respond. Here is where things began to get hazy. Cat and I went out to dance as Jon B performed. The next thing I remember is leading her down to the home theater in the basement. I don't remember much after that. At some point she gave me her phone number, that much I remember. After 2 scotches straight and only 3 hours of sleep in the past 48 hours, I think I'd pushed myself beyond my limit. I remember sitting in their limo talking to her, but don't remember what I said-this has been happening a lot to me lately when I drink and I can't explain why I'm losing my memory when I drink-perhaps alcohol-induced alzheimers.

Anyway, to make an otherwise long story short, the next day I sent Cat a text telling her how much enjoyed spending time with her the previous evening. Her response wasn't exactly what I expected. She was a bit cold. After further investigation, apparently I said something that she didn't agree with that evening. I have no idea what it was that I said-I do know I have a tendency to talk sh*t when I drink, but never to women. It's usually testosterone-ladened banter reserved for my guy friends.

Eventually there was brief conversation between Cat and I-extremely brief. It went like this:

Me- So refresh my memory. What exactly did I say?

Cat- No see, I believe that if it was important enough for you to say, it would be important enough for you to remember, therefore I don't believe I should refreshen (sic) your memory at all. I'm not going to do that.

Me- You believe-

Cat- Hold on, who's this walking up to my house. Can you hold?

Me -Sure.

(Play complete Jeopardy theme music here.....three times. Finally:

Cat- Can I call you right back?

Me- Sure.

And that was the last I heard from her-it's been well over 12 hours. During that 12 hours, I've done some thinking. I don't really know Cat, and she really doesn't know me. So why did she treat me as though she did? The whole "I don't believe" nonsense doesn't sound like someone who's a team player. It seems like she has an idea of who the f*ck I am before knowing who the f*ck I am. As I said before, I don't know her, therefore I'm not going to approach her as though I do. Her approach to me was as though someone had done something to her in her past, and I'm about to pay for it-no, not this week! Now this will be the same woman, 10 years from now talking about how their are no good men out there and that black men don't talk to her-they just like white women. You could probably fill a stadium with the black women I've personally dealt with that, for one reason or another, discounted me. Am I a good man? You betcha! (I like that corny phrase. You can't get more Howdy Doody than that).

Before you all go off on a tangent about my recent arrest and my pension for the occasional violent scuffle, let me detail to you my manly accomplishments:

*I've been gainfully employed since the age of 12.
*All of my children know me intimately and we keep in contact with one another. I've been supportive financially and otherwise.
*All of the children of the women I've dated have been treated as though they were my own children.
*I've always taken care of home first-regardless of who my female counter-part is.
*I'm respectful and believe in teamwork and hardwork as well as hard play.
*I'm an attentive lover, mate and friend.
*I'm sensitive to the needs of those around me and often put them before my own.
*My happiness is derived from seeing members of my clan happy.
*My woman's needs come first. My theory is if she's happy, so am I.
*My goal is to leave not only a positive legacy for my offspring, but also head start financing to give them a head start in life.

Keeping all that in mind, there are things a woman should know about me:

*Although I have a sense of humor, I'm an extremely serious person and will take corrective action if need be (interpret that however you choose).
*I believe in self-discipline. Not only for myself but for my partner and the offspring we have been charged with caring for.
*I believe in work before play. Take care of business so that the business can take care of you.
*I believe that the male is the head of household and responsible for the success and failure of the home. I believe that there should be only one captain of the ship. If the pilot of a plane is flying at 30,000 feet, how many passengers does he need interfering with what he's doing? My answer would be zero. Just sit down, shut up, and ride. Anything other than that would be a distraction. Furthermore, if someone can relinquish control of their life to a complete stranger who takes them up to 30,000 feet at speeds exceeding 200 miles an hour, surely they should be able to trust me to manage our family. Think about it. We know absolutely nothing about the pilot, nor what he has done in the past 24-48 hours. He could have just left a mad Rave where he indulged in excessive drinking and popped ecstacy all night. How do we know? Yet we buy our tickets and sit our butts down and allow this person to put us in one of the most dangerous and precarious situations we can find ourselves in. Most of us don't even see the pilot. There could be a donkey in the cockpit for all we know. If you can place your life in the hands of a complete stranger, at least you should be able to trust me to make decisions about the financial status of our household.

I've posted here before about black women and I have absolutely nothing against them-I love them dearly. But granting yourself permission to be venemous in your speech to me doesn't set well with me. Especially if you don't know me. I don't want to go through a lifetime of circus tricks to get you to see that I'm a decent human who only wants a family, a peaceful domicile, (not with Cat-just in general) and some pure and unadulterated sex from time to time. The last experience with Cat just turns my stomach. Sharazad Ali, author of A Blackman's Guide to Understanding a Blackwoman said that every now and again she might need a pop in the mouth to get her straight. I don't advocate violence against anyone-man, woman, or child. But what is the answer here? How is that we are going to get black women to understand that we aren't their enemy?

Fortunately wisdom has prevailed and I have absolutely nothing for this Cat person. Was it a missed opportunity for her? I don't think so. With her attitude she would have lasted no longer than that brief conversation I detailed earlier. But as a black man, I'm crying out to you black woman-SEEK HELP!!! You can't continue to vilify us and still expect us to want to build lives with you. Cat started off telling me what she wasn't going to do. Now I have to admit, I might have said something foul in my stupor, but I doubt it. I usually become extremely philosophical with women when I've been drinking. It's the men that have to watch out for my verbose banter. I do recall her telling me, "Don't fall in love." To which I distinctely remember responding, "That may be a warning you want to adhere to yourself." I found it odd that she would say such a thing to me after seeing her only once before in my entire life. She obviously thinks more of herself than I do. I also recall her telling me that she was working on her master's. Sadly, she could become the Master of the Universe and she still wouldn't be in a position to lead me. I am an alpa-male and a natural born leader. And unless she's well versed in the arts, philosphy, and martial law (not to be confused with marital law), I don't think her master status will put her in a position to lead me. She can assist me with leadership, but never lead-not when she's so susceptible to her own whims and emotions.

Some women are just too easily led by the media today for me to follow one. Now if there is a woman out there, and I know that they exist, who is a realist like me, she won't have to wrestle with me for power, I'll cede it without a fight because I know that she sees the world in a similar way that I do. She knows that television isn't real, but utilized primarily to get you to buy shit. And when you see people on The O.C. living large, someone paid a dear price in order to live so lavishly. It won't fall from the sky. It's not going to be given to you-you'll have to earn it. And if you're not ready to roll up your sleeves and get to work, you'll scurry along the baseboards of life forever.

I know this seems like a long rant about nothing, but I just get so frustrated when I try to interface with a black woman and she comes with this you a nigga mentality. It's like I should be happy to be in her presence. Let me say this, getting a woman has never been a problem for me and I don't mind going off the reservation. I'd prefer not to, but no one wants to do battle with their life partner. I have too many other obstacles that I have to tackle. Why should I voluntarily invite another one in the very place they can do the most damage-in my home where I am most vulnerable?

Don't think that I'm basing my opinions on one incident with one black woman. This is a prevailing attitude that I've dealt with practically all life and it's so tired and old. Who's going to be the one to stand up and tell them to cut that shit out?

I don't know what to say anymore. I don't know how to deal with the attitude any longer. I am at my wits end. What do you make of a man who desires something so much but knows deep within that it is unattainable?

The Prince of Know Where? is vexed.