Peek in the life of an Athelete's Wife....

"Stacks on Deck
Wrist full of ice...
Ima go & get this degree
Then shawty I'ma buy whatever I like....."
I've been walkin around singin my remixed ditty-bop in my head for some time now...and like I begin every entry...I know, I know i havent wrote BUT...lol. No explanations this time, dudes. Just know I actually have been following everybody's day-to-days on my sidekick. I have 5 tests coming up and am not as panicked as I think I should be about it....probably because I'm frustrated about other things like life period...but such is life. Willie (as mentioned is past blogs) has gone to Morehouse, Hip-Hop is DEAD, and I dont too much feel like entertaining any other people, so my love life is a running joke between me and my roommate as well. But the joke I wanted to share with you guys was my whirlwind 5 second affair w/ a UK jock, a basketball drafter that just came here...After facebook stalking will and seeing he was MORE than enjoying his time w/his newfound "Georgia Peaches", I was pissed, mostly out of jealousy. I cut political science and went to lunch with my old high school friend Louis, something i almost never do because one, I dont eat lunch and two, I'm a hermit and dont Gel well w/ the black folk here. As Louis went off to find some nasty piece of corn-fed unhealthy chicken to masticate (Chik-Filet of course!), I stood alone, fidgety and adjusting my clothes, and felt a pair of eyes on me. Have you ever felt that? When the naps on the back of your neck prickle, and its not because you need a perm? Well, when I located them, I was taken aback to find the specimen attached to them. The brother was fine. Caramel, 6ft plus and starin at me like I was dessert, which always wins you points...lol. Never a shy Southern Bell, I walked over and introduced myself.
After tellin me in a thick accent his name and also findin out we had a class togetha, he finally told me his claim to fame was because he was drafted to our basketball team, and he was originally from Baton Rouge, Louisiana. (Creole Magic! Yummy!lol)so we exchanged numbers and parted ways. I felt vindicated because of Will, and flabbergasted because an Athelete wanted to talk to me! Im no Kim kardashian (im built way thicker, thanks! lol) or Vanessa Bryant! I'm a big chocolate glamazon! WTF? So for the next week he walked me to class, out and around campus, and texted incessantly, and it was mighty cute. It felt even better to know that it wasnt the sun burnin my black ass, it was the envious stares from other girls! But the cuteness fizzled out when Creole Magic Finally revealed his intentions (duh, you knew this story was goin somewhere!) In the middle of class he handed me a note in small scrawley handwriting asking me 1)When we were gonna do it because i was fine as hell and he "couldnt wait to put it on my thick azz" and 2)did I have stretch marks? because they were sexy as hell and I looked like I had a lot. SIDEBAR: Was that shit supposed to be a compliment? What the hell is sexy about stretch marks? Well hell, if u like it I love it....I had to kindly but Firmly tell his ass that I'm nobody's piece, jump-off, or any ish like that and I was here to get an education, not to be any body's future baby mama or arm candy (though it was nice for a lil while...) Creole Magic seemed unfazed...that is, untill I noticed he wasnt following me to my next class like a puppy dog any longer..the icing on the cake was that weekend, the weekend of the greatest house party I've been to so far, the defining (finally) moment of college fun for me.(i WILL write about my bad party experiences later...) Right in front of me, he was dance-humping some skinny chick that looked like a burnt prayin mantis, the way she was bent, twisted, and angled around his 6'6 frame. I couldnt say much but could only sigh, especially when he made it a point to get the number of a girl who's dress was hiked up over her lumpy behind and stretched out across her cut, and sweat making her weave bangs come loose in the front. (I wish I had a picture.) I could only walk away sayin, "my brother, my brother......"

So Now I do understand what the allure of being an athelete's wife/girlfriend is. To know that everybody is grilling you, wishing they had a chance wit your man (though I KNOW he wasnt mine, you know what I mean. To walk around wearing his jersey proudly, cuz u know if both of y'all play your cards right, his jersey really will be important, and you'll be draped in something way better than his funky old shirt....Still, the allure of being draped in that same shyt because I bought it turns me on even more....one of the reasons why I'm still here.
And besides being a roaring hip-hop feminist and refusing to give it up to someone i dont know because my mama taught me better, I just like Smart dudes, nerds who are going somewhere, smart brothers, since I'm a smart sista. I never knew how much I appreciated all Hip-Hop's educational accolades, or Willie's intelligence or wit, until I had somebosy whisperin in my ear in class...."Aye sexxy gull (yes he says gull!), you know I'ma be copyin off you on dis test!"
Great. Now this Scooter's future is in my hands. If I let him copy, he'll scrape by and pass, possibly become very known and get drafted to the NBA, and set up yet another ignorant mexican video girl up for life in the future....and if I dont let him copy, And y'all kno his ass'll fail, I'll b contributing to yet another black man dropping/getting kicked out of school, not getting a job, and or contributing to crime or more having impoverished black children than Hurrican Katrina. Decisions, decisions.
And people wonder why it's been said that black women are the mules of the world. lol.