Ever since my father told me that Santa Claus didn't exist and added, "If you do see a fat white fuck coming down our chimney trying to give you a "gift", stab that motherfucker immediately because he's a pedophile!!", there isn't much that I anxiously wait for each year. Birthdays suck when you get past 30, I haven't remembered a New Years eve in years, but there is one event that I marked on my calender the same way I used to remind myself of my ex-girlfriends cycle before we went on vacation. That event, one that made me pull out my Sunday's best for a few years straight, one that made me make sure that every dreadlock was in place, beard was trimmed, the one event where I acted like a perfect gentleman and hid the fact that I'm an insufferable prick. This place I talk about,where the fantasies of a child-like dreamer like myself came true as if I was a pre-teen sipping chocolate out of Willy Wonka's pool and shit, is a yearly poetry party thrown by a couple that I have known since college.
The couple in question, Carlos and Tonya, have been throwing these home-made poetry slams for years, where there were so many incense and head-wraps in one place you would think that you were stuck in a virtual showing of "Love Jones". To be honest, I hate a lot of poetry, I find the male poets to be condescending jackasses and the female poets desperately trying to channel their inner flower child, plus the poetry there is mediocre at best. I once went there, exposing what kind of pig I am, to prey on the scores of lonely women who attended my friend's shin-dig, knowing that their sole purpose was being able to recite some bland "men ain't shit" rant while I attempted to play the sensitive guy and talk them out of their dashiki's later.
It was poetry(pun intended) when I sought out which female I was going to expose to my pre-ejaculatory ways, if you look closely you can see an easy mark a mile away. Ladies I mean no harm so look at this as a cautionary tale, as a changed man who now looks down at his once asshole ways, but never tell a man shit like "I'm a strong black woman, no man can get over on me!" because not only is it a cry for help but you might as well put a fucking bulls-eye on your back. So each year, when I didn't have the conscious that I have now, I'd meet some coffee-shop chicks at my friends gathering, and later I would leave them disappointed as we laid there in our post coitus glow, trying to block out her vegan ramblings as I nursed a hangover. I thought I wasn't doing anything wrong, especially due to the fact that I was blatant with my lechery, and the way that Carlos and Tonya threw single women my way I just knew they were throwing me what I would later nickname "ASSists".
But there was something wrong with what I was doing, a fact that came to my attention when I decided to attend one of my friends poetry parties after a 3 years absence. The problem with me changing my life in the last three years is that your old self is always a part of you, the alcoholic who becomes clean has ghosts who still haunt him because of the lives he shattered at the height of his addiction, the ex cocaine addict with a new lease on life is still haunted by his old self who stole money from the ones he loved years earlier, and even though I have changed there are still ghosts that haunt me. True, I'm still violent, like to drink, and have no problem calling members of the clergy "miserable motherfuckers", but the fact that I stopped playing Russian Roulette with my cock has to count for something.
So I walked in their yearly event not thinking about my past indiscretions, but simply wanting to see some old friends and listen to some third-rate poetry. As I approached Carlos and Tonya I extended my arms as to give both of them a hug, but I didn't really feel the love back as they gave me an uneasy pat on my back to reciprocate the affection. We chatted a while but I could tell something was wrong with them, I just chalked it up to them feeling stressed due to all the planning it takes for them to run this affair smoothly. So I grabbed me a chair, grabbed me a fruit drink and proceeded to watch the first 5 poets that did your garden variety, bitter broad "men ain't shit" poetry.
Truly bored, and getting a massive chubby from the mounds of flesh peaking through various sarongs and dashiki's, I went in the back yard to pour some liquor in my fruit drink to make this night a little more bearable. There I saw Tonya, who was smoking a cigarette when she saw my fruit punch become intimately acquainted with Mr. Jack Daniels himself when she said, "I see you haven't changed much in the past few years!!" I smiled, took a sip from my drink then jokingly said, "Tonya, some of those Erykah Badu chicks in there can really "catch it", hook a brother up!!!" With a frustrated look on her face she looked up into the sky, mouthing the words "I can't believe this shit!" to herself, then grabbed me by the hand.
She quickly led me to her garage that smelled like a bum's nutsack, as if I was a toddler and shit, and advised me to wait there for a few moments. I didn't know what was going on, for all I know she could have found that the right opportunity to declare her love for me, but then again she wouldn't touch me with a ten foot pole since that time she found herself laying in a wet spot I left when I had sex with her college roommate in her bed. Then suddenly she reappears, this time with Carlos and two other chicks who looked vaguely familiar. I was uncomfortable, so I do what I always do when I'm in an awkward situation, I say foul shit. "Hey Carlos, I'm all down for an orgy with your wife and these two other chicks, but don't you think me "leaving extra space" in your significant other might ruin our friendship??"
Right when Carlos was about to explain what was going on, Tonya blurted out in a Turrets inspired rage, "We want you to stop fucking our friends! We want you to stop fucking our friends!!!" Carlos looked at her like she had went off script, turned to me and said, "HumanityCritic, you have to stop inserting yourself in people we care about??" "Inserting" myself" I said, "Was I fucking or pumping gas?? Then I said, "What in the fuck are y'all talking about, I haven't been here for a couple of years?" Then, like they had planned this speech for a couple of years and shit, they broke down how by them hooking me up with women that they were friendly with, those women broke off all communication with them based on how much of an asshole I was. The following is a laundry list of offenses against yours truly, shit I had forgotten about until I found myself getting the third degree from 4 people in a musty ass garage.
1. Apparently I met the mother of one young lady while I was drunk, and the mere fact that she was a heavy set woman wearing a purple coat, I proceeded to call her "Grimace" the whole night.
2. Apparently I knocked out the brother of a young lady while he was giving me a playful, brotherly "you'd better not hurt my sister" speech.
3. As the story goes, because a certain young lady was taking too long talking to her ex boyfriend after we had left the movie theater, I took it upon myself to leave her ass there. The sad part was we were three cities from her house.
4. When me and another young lady were at the piercing parlor while her older sister was getting her "goodies" pierced, I said inappropriate things in a Shaggy(the cartoon character) voice like, "Something sure is fishy around her Scooby-Doo!"
5. I had sex with the same sister I felt comfortable publicly commenting on her lack of feminine hygiene.
6. In a moment of post coitus bliss, I promised one woman that I would tattoo her name somewhere on my body. A week later when she tattooed my name on her, instead of telling her the truth about not wanting to go through with it, I lied and said that I had some weird disorder where I couldn't get tattooed. She bought my bullshit, which is miraculous based on the fact that I already had two tattoos at the time.
7. One woman I dated used to be an "escort" and I guess she felt ashamed of her past life and wanted to move those hard emotional times. I guess she didn't find it funny when I would constantly leave money on her dresser after sex.
8. While I was dating one of Tonya's poet friends, I was out with another woman in a club one Saturday night. When I noticed that I was about to be caught and be read the riot act by a scorned lover, I screamed, "Don't you get enough, Stop stalking me!! Security! Security!!", as my boy who was a bouncer carried her away kicking and screaming.
9. The two chicks who were with Tonya during the "Intervention" I had known biblically, and at least one of their poems that night about "men not being shit" was inspired by Humanity F. Critic.
10. I was at a party that was being thrown by a woman I was dating, celebrating her brother having a sex change operation. I was sober, so when I asked him specifics about the operation like the removal of his penis, I meant no disrespect in my curiosity. But he was pissed and called himself dressing me down. So in response, finding the irony in it funny, I followed him around the whole night saying "Come on bro, "I'm not trying to be a dick or anything!!"
As I sat there, bombarded by the numerous sins I committed against women of the coffee-shop variety, I realized I had pushed my asshole tactics in the back of my mind. I felt bad, even wanting to tell them how I have changed my life and the guy they were talking about being the "old me". But dude, I'm lazy, so I shrugged my shoulders like a naughty toddler and simply gave a unsatisfying "My Bad". As we went back into the house to hear the other poets I grabbed the two women by the arm who had just gave me the third degree and said, "So this means we can never fuck again?"