The Frog Prince | Is that YO’ man?


Tuesday, October 12th, 2010


Sitting in a car stuck in traffic, my attention is caught by a small, but noticeable brawl happening in the car next to me. The driver of the car was being verbally whipped by his female companion.

Chick: “Wa yuh watching she so for eh!?

Dude: Baby, I wasn watching nobody.”

Chick: “Yes! ah see yuh! yuh was watching that skinny Bi-atch. Yuh fine she nice, eh?”

Two slap pelt.

Chick: “Eh? eh? whey she is? lemme firetruck she up.”

I have to admit the ish was funny, I mean who doesn’t like a little gridlock drama to break up the monotony of the red-light that will not turn.

But  when their car pulled up level with mine and she started cursing ME? Well that was a different set of laughter altogether. Why was she angry with me? What did I do? Driving off, the last I saw, chick was jumping out the car to get over to the driver’s side.

I didn’t think about it much, until I was forced to remember the episode when I was at dinner later that same week.

Now, first things first, you know this diva. She don’t leave her house looking like no VIT [Vagrant in Training]. Skinny Jeans, nice shirt and, since I really liked the fella who was taking me out, he was worthy of me bringing out the big guns –  SLAMMIN’ heels.

Oblivious to anyone other than my my date, I take my seat, and the night begins on a lovely note.

Enter twenty minutes, and I become conscious of not one but two pairs of eyes glaring at me. Two ladies, both on their own dates, are giving me LEVEL cut eye. They’re strangers to one another and they are unaware of each other, but from my vantage point I can see that this is not going to turn out well if I am not careful. Simply because, try as they hard as they could, their male counterparts are trying not to look as if they are looking at me, and one idiot just gave up the fight and stared at me without any thought for his companion.

Now, please do not think that I am standing on a corner toot-toot-tooting on my little rusty horn. I am by no means a pagent queen, and would be the first to tell you that I ain’t no exotic beauty. I should have known that those shoes would have that kind of effect on men. They were my CFMs/ FMPs, [if you are unsure about what THAT is click here] and NO MAN can resist.

But I get away from my topic.

I am wondering why it is that we ladies are quick to attack another woman, an innocent woman, just because she exists, when the problem is clearly the fault of the toads we sometimes try to turn into princes?

How is it my fault that their MAN (temporary or not) does not respect them. I have been there too, sitting in the front seat of a car and my companion is distracted by a pair of long legs or a buxom beauty. Out comes the tongue, looney tunes style, eyes bug out on springs, and the hearts fly above the ears. The brave ones (or the stupid ones – you pick) may even go so far as to say:

“Pssst, O lord gyal, yuh sexy too bad! MMM! Ah HONG-gry!

If I am out on a date, or its my BF, then I find some way to politely remind him that I am still breathing beside him, and then I either let this disaster take its course and remind myself that I am quite capable of taking a taxi, head for the hills, never again to return.

Ladies: Life Lesson # 456.

.

Never tolerate your date/boyfriend disrespecting you in any way whatsoever.

Take into consideration, however, that if he takes a peep, without hurting your feelings. He’s trying. After all he ain’t dead or blind. But at least he has taken into consideration that you are there beside him and he is  aware that you have feelings. Never make a scene. You are just opening the door for him to disrespect you some more. Possibly to give his card to the lady he was oogling when you leave to go to the bathroom, having just written you off as drama he could do without.

And, # 678,

Never EVER blame the other woman.

Unless she sashays brazenly over to the table where you are sitting enjoying your meal, looking at each other all googly-eyed, drinking your champagne, all arms curled, you know honeymoon style, Unless she offers her self to him and makes and holds eye contact with your stallion, inviting him to mount, Unless she takes out her boob and flings it at him thereby catching and keeping his attention, you need to be taking out whatever vexation you have on your man.

Rinse and Repeat.

YOU accepted the responsibility of training a toddler, didn’t you?

You, my friend, are the one who chose this poor excuse for a human being, and let him share the divine castle that is your life. You saw the signs; you know how he do. What you fretting with the innocent for?

In fact, I’d even go so far as to say: It’s YOUR issue. Take it up with yourself.

Because you are the one who is sending the message that you are not worthy of being treated like the ‘princess’ that you obviously think you are. Wake up! If you have kissed this frog a thousand times and he still doesn’t go POOF! and turn into the handsome, gallant prince – smoke, mice and footman included – see him for what he is, a toad, gather him up, and take him back to the sewer where you found him. *splish!* He’s home now, and believe me he’s happy.

But if you keep him *smile* and he treats you the only way he knows how being a toad from the sewer, i.e. like ish, then who’s fault is that? The hot W.O.W. wearing the killer heels, sitting with her own Prince, who incidentally is not looking anywhere else but at her object of affection, who couldn’t be bothered with the chicken heads.

“No ma’am sorry but I don’t feel like chicken today. How about a rump roast, medium rare, sauce on the side please and thank you.”

And resumes staring lovingly at his companion? My fault? NOOOO. Its YOUR fault baby, for not reading GC more often, and applying the tips we share every damn day for cleaning out your closet.

Trust me, these dramatic displays of emotion never do anything but paint you as the needy, emotionally unbalanced, grasping, human being you are, [or are not].

Try this instead:

In carefully modulated tones, and with the sweetest smile that you can conjure up on your face, say:

“Um, hey hun – are you about to go give her your number? Cause if you are, let me give her for you. I was just thinking that you two would make a lovely couple. She is so your type.

Sooo…  Should we order now?”

And then make a mental note to call your friend when you get to the ladies, and see if they still wanna hit the club after this dinner is over, cause if homeboy don’t realize that you are Fabulously Fierce, then he deserves to be left behind, sitting next to his sewer waiting for his next victim to come along and mistake him for a Frog Prince.

Let someone else handle that mess.

Forward ever.


  1. Mimilicious says:

    Love it girl! And I agree with you 100%!!!!

    [Reply]

    supaflygirl Reply:

    thanks hun.

    [Reply]

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