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| #WhoHurtYou? Did she have hair like Raggedy Anne? |
So I'll be honest, I hate Drake. Yup I said it. I hate Drake. Well okay, let me amend that, I hate him about as much as you can hate someone you've never met. But if I were to be honest with myself, I'd admit that I hate Drake because he represents what I hate about myself. You see Drake is soft. He wears his feelings on his sleeves but even worse he decides to tell the whole world about it.
I guess that's not a crime in and of itself but ya know that's his whole angle in this here game. The sensitive guy. He's the guy that's sensitive to the point of being effeminate and the women eat it up. Well the dumb ones at least. The rational women realize you don't want a dude THAT sensitive. You need to know that if ish hit the fan that he'd at least be willing to throw a punch for you or get punched in the face defending your honor. Drake strikes me as the type to leave his girl behind to get beat up by some hoodrats named after liquor and luxury cars.
So what does this all have to do with me? Well I have two stories I'll share...
Back in 1998 I think I was in like the 7th grade or something. We had this fake 2pac wannabe in our class and the dude's name was Brandy. And to make it worse he had a nose ring because 2pac had a nose ring. So anyway one day we had a math test and he got caught cheating off my paper. We had a bathroom break after class and he thought I had snitched on him. For the record, I didn't even know he got caught. I was in the hall when the teacher confronted him. So i'm in the bathroom taking a piss when BAM! He hit me in the back of the head and i fell and hit my head on the toilet. It was a middle school bathroom so as you can imagine there was piss all over the floor. Hitting my head on the toilet hurt like hell so my first instinct was to cry. When I looked up I saw a bunch of boys from our class laughing and pointing at me. So now i'm sitting in a pool of piss, possibly mildly concussed, getting laughed at and I'm crying. So before I could get up off the floor and defend my honor a male teacher came in the bathroom and broke everything up. I was his favorite student so he rushed to see what happened. So now i look like a bitch cuz i gotta get bailed out by the teacher. I never felt so humiliated in my life! So what did I do? Not a damn thing! I knew if I got suspended I'd get a beating of epic proportions when I got home; plus it was swim season and I didn't want to get kicked off the team. But at that moment I decided to never cry in public again. In fact I didn't shed a solitary tear for about 6 years.
Then college happened and I got introduced to the game. I was a freshmen in college and this chick that I lowkey had a crush on made my dreams come true, if you catch my drift. She was by far the finest chick that had ever showed me any interest in the 19 years I had been living. She was the kinda chick that oozes sexy. You couldn't put your finger on why you wanted it but you always knew when you were around her you wanted it. She never did anything overt she just kinda massaged your soul and your loins whenever she spoke to you. Now this is a lot for a newly minted 19 year old to handle. So anyway long story short, I got lucky a few times and she started acknowledging me in public. She was an upperclassmen and pretty popular so it was a big deal to me. In fact I couldn't wait to tell my boy about it. Well time passes and I caught major feelings...then I had the kinda epiphany we all hate: when you realize it was just sex. She didn't have the kinda feelings for me that I had for her. And I found out in the worse way possible, but i'll spare you that detail. Well for the first time in 6 years I shed a tear. I hated myself for it, I hated her for it too. She technically didn't do anything wrong. She never promised me anything and didn't owe me shit. But I hated myself for being so soft. That's when I received some wise words. A friend told me: "Jeremy, your heart and your dick should never be connected unless they need to be connected. And the only time they need to be connected is with your wife". These are words I'll pass along to my son.
Now that's Drake's whole deal. His whole image is that hurt you have when you find out it's just sex to the other person after you've been all up in your feelings. He takes emotional vulnerability to a whole new level. We all hurt sometimes but that can't be your whole deal. Where's your pride Drake?! Some stuff you gotta keep to yourself! If you gotta tell somebody, tell your boys. They'll likely clown you but you know at the end of the day they got your back. Meanwhile Drake is on Necole Bitchie talking about how Rihanna broke his heart and how he's lonely. Get a grip man! Stop wearing your heart on your sleeves. Stop making songs about drunk dialing chicks when you know she has a man. Chill with that "woe is me, the lonely famous guy". We don't feel sorry for you dude. And the worst part about it all is his brand of music is so popular. Grown men and impressionable boys are out here wearing jeans sized for toddlers and women's jeggings. Young people just don't have any pride nowadays, and it's just sad. I could blame Drake for it all, but somewhere his daddy failed him. Drake reminds me of two low points in my development as a man, and I'll be sure to put my son on to game so he doesn't make those same mistakes. Those things happened before I was old enough to drink...Drake is a grown ass man, he gotta toughen up!
Glad to be back in the blogosphere,
J-Full
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2 comments:
Jeremy, Jeremy, Jeremy...I have quite a FEW issues with your post here today :-P
First and foremost...it is ABSOLUTELY healthy to be in touch with your emotions and express them willingly. If not, what happened to you in college, will eventually happen to everyone else who follows this mantra....a BLOW UP! Your's may have been on a "small" scale (this time), but there are other's whose personality has no inner compass of what a "small scale" means [e.g. see Columbine High School and Virginia Tech].
I too, was a person who found it "weak and humiliating" to shed tears...Most recently (as in, no longer than a month ago), I casually mentioned this to someone and their response resonated with me the ENTIRE day...I contemplated, flipped and flopped, and overturned her words in my head until I was too drained to resolved whether I agreed with her or not. Her words were..."It take a STRONG person to cry, only those who are weak, do not." Obviously, immediately I wanted to reject her philosophy, because it would mean my 3 year (or so) stent of making sure I NEVER shed a relationship-related tear again was in vein. But being "one of the most rational/logical persons I know" (as one friend put it), I instead marinated on these words. As of today, I believe that I do agree with this stance. Here is why...
Out of our vast array of bodily functions...how many can we count that serve "no purpose"? Not talking about vestigial organs here, but actual "functions" that are useless. I can count none (although I'm no doctor, and changed my major from Biology to CJ my junior year), I think this is pretty accurate.
Society has given us MANY things, and one of them would undoubtedly have to be the FALSE premise of "gender roles"...there is NOTHING wrong with a man crying and, as resolved from my premise above, it is an absolutely normal and "healthy" function of the human body.
These are no philosophical axioms or anything, but from a logical standpoint, I believe they make sense. Of COURSE, we (humans) have a propensity to disassociate ourselves with actions, places, scenarios and even emotions, that render memories of pain. This is normal, but lets not turn these "normalities" into philosophies. That, more often than not, leads to the treacherous path of logical fallacies.
Just two cents from an old peer... ;-P
Follow me at beyondgenius.blogspot.com
Obviously there are certain situations in which crying in public is totally understandable logic or not I shall NEVER shed a public tear. And there's a difference between expressing your emotions and being a punk and crying to the whole world.
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