And I've been up for over 24 hours, so I don't wanna hear no shite from ye.
There I was working hard on my new opus "Dialectic Negritude: I Gots It, You Might Gets It (a tribute to the Black Blogosphere the late Aaron Hawkins and My Negro George) when WHAM! something kinda neat fell into my lap.
I dunno if we're all like "dogs that have been beat too much," if I may paraphrase Mr. Springsteen, but it seems like allus single folk in our 30's (and summay'all in yr 20's) run around claiming you're ready for the big settle down, only to recoil and run like hell when something might actually happen.
Oh, yeah. I've done it too. Seinfeldian rationalizations. Underminings both conscious and sub. Passive-Aggressive horndoggieness...and to what end?
Alone again, naturally.
Well, not this time. I got a fortune cookie a couple of weeks ago that said I'd dine with someone new...and I did. And so far, it's all right. She's a'ight...and more than I could've ever expected.
Nah, I'm not in Ruv yet...but shit, a couple of more months of this and you're gonna have to slap the permagrin off my face!
But other than what I've just said, I'll spare you the "gruesome" details. But if I look a little younger and/or thinner, seem a lot happier, or (maybe) a bit handsomer - well, I know who to thank.