Wednesday, July 27, 2005

In Love and In Trouble

Six signs that you've fallen like Alicia Keys

I’m an artist, so I am the authority on falling in love, especially in the summertime, when the heat combines with more skin and a need to be close to somebody. I’m only 24, and I swear I’ve described the feeling a million ways by now. But it is always different, and once again as the heat index rises to more than 100 degrees, a chick done fell again.

But don’t put this phenomenon all on the artists, you too could be the victim of summer love if:

You start acting like Angela Bassett from Waiting to Exhale (Ike Turner, for you men)
Yesterday, I was calling my crush, and with each phone ring, I felt myself getting more and more mad. I thought I was turning into the Incredible Hawk, green biceps, torn shirt and everything. I wanted to throw my cell phone out of the car. Just because a nigga didn’t answer the phone. I never understood how girls became crazy over guys...but now it has become painfully clear.

When I was in college, there was this boy that me and another were vying for. Well, this girl actually rolled in the floor, crying, saying she was going to die if she couldn’t have the boy. She got the boy. I complained to a male friend about why men always go for the crazy chick, when he could’ve have a sensible, non-floor-rolling woman on his side. “At least he knows she loves him,” was what my friend told me.

Every song on the radio, in the elevator, you coworker hums while walking past your office, reminds you of him.
This is not just love songs, that so convienently pop up when the love is hurting the most, or you are thinking of him (which is only on two occasions: day and night). These are songs that have absolutely nothing to do with intimacy, expression, caring, none of that.

I went out this weekend, and the deejay was playing “Flap Ya Wings,” by Nelly. And it made me think of my crush. Why? Because we had once had some obscure talk about Nelly, or maybe it was chicken wings, I don’t remember.

I heard the song from the Cosby Show on the radio the other day…you know the “Shotgun” song. Well, it reminded me of my crush, because he told me his family reminds him of the Cosby’s. Don’t act like I’m the only one that has it bad!

You tell other “potentials” about your crush.
I went out with this ultra-sexy, entrepreneur-type a week or so ago, who had all the things that girls go for: pretty hair, money, charisma, all that. Well, about 20 minutes into the conversation, I had told him straight up that I was in love with somebody else. He asked me why I agreed to go out on a date with him, if I was interested in somebody else. You would never believe what I said.

“I just wanted to pass the time before my crush gets off of work.”

You’ve lost all feelings in your thumbs due to text messaging your crush.
Since the dawn of text messaging, I always thought it was the dumbest thing. If you have a phone, then why not call up the person you want to talk to.

I had jury duty a couple months ago, and I found myself bored and jonesing. I text messaged my crush for almost two hours in federal fucking court. I could’ve been arrested, phone confiscated, anything. Didn’t care, was in love! If it is the only way to communicate at the time, I will text message my crush until I've memorized the number of beeps it takes to spell out his name without looking.

You leave a club or some other exciting social event to talk to him on the phone.
Once I had to lie about going to another event, because I knew my busy crush was off of work and I could talk to him for at least an hour. I was hanging, having a good time with a group of friends. And how many times have you seen people in the club, on their cell phones, knowing that they can’t hear. They aren’t stuntin’ they are in love!!!

**BONUS**
You talk on the phone during booty call hours with no intent to have sex
This last rule trumps all of the others, because it means that all of the freaky, nasty thoughts you save for the freaky, nasty people who are only available after hours are no longer a priority. This rule means that despite having to wake up at 7 a.m. for work, you would rather argue to 10 minues at 3 a.m. about who's going to hang up first. But who needs sleep when you're high off of love?

3 Comments:

At 1:17 PM, Blogger Midlife Crisis said...

Wow. Midlife Crisis is laughing right now. Talk about an addiction to eros. Tell me, Miss-In-Love-With Love...is it easier to FIND 'im or KEEP 'im?
Curious.

 
At 4:14 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

Ooh Donna, true, true and true.

You KNOW me and my situation. Girl, I'm there with you. Text messaging especially is going to be the death of me, you should see how many texts in my inbox belong to "the young boy". lol

I wouldn't say "love" though, I don't know what my strong attraction is to this one. I'm hoping to end it soon though and get back to being grown & sexy and an unobtainable treasure for the majority of these negroes, especially the young ones.... lol We'll holla later!

 
At 6:34 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

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