Scottie Pippen Is A Better Man Than Me

102216-sports-future-larsa-scottie-pippen I don’t write a lot about pop culture or celebrity gossip but is something really gossip if all the parties involved acknowledge it happened? When your woman is on social media all over a guy you really can’t blame anyone else but her. Don’t get mad at the paparazzi or blogs for reporting on a fire that her and Future started.

Why is Scottie Pippen a better man than me? I’m not one of those guys that’s going to pretend like I would never take a woman back for cheating. I’ve never had to make that decision but I can imagine that if you love a woman enough anything is possible. See, it’s not the cheating, it’s the flaunting it to the world that would close that door for me. Allowing another man to basically say, “This isn’t my woman, just a lil something I’m messing around with right now.” I can’t do it bro. Call it pride, call it arrogance, I don’t care. I mess up and you go out and get in another relationship, that’s on me. I mess up and you become a full on groupie? Girl bye.

Future has become our generations fu*kboy idol. I really do wish I could use a better term and believe me I racked my brain trying to find one but this is the most accurate term possible. He raps about drugs, how little value women have and hates the mother of his child because she moved on and found happiness. And before I get the, “It’s just music” crowd commenting. It can’t be just music when you not only rap about taking another man’s wife but you snapchat it and tweet about it and take pride in it. There are a generation of tattoo’d, skinny jean wearing, penicillin taking guys that idol the ain’t shi*ness of Future. Your wife leaves for him, you just have to throw the whole wife away and get a new one before Trump bans her country.

To be fair, I’ve never been married so maybe I don’t understand the love and energy it takes to fight for a marriage when you know you’ve both done wrong. Regardless of all of that, can’t do it bro. I wish Scottie the best and I hope Jordan forgives you for bringing this sort of energy to the legacy of the Bulls.

You Can’t Appreciate What You Have If You Can’t Let Go of What You Had

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Author Demez F. White

Memories are incredibly dope. You can be sitting at work watching a screen and a memory can flash before your eyes like a bolt of lightning. You didn’t ask for the memory, weren’t thinking about the memory but low and behold it happened. A brief moment in an otherwise uneventful day. You look up from your desk and ask yourself the question, “Where the hell did that come from?”

And just as soon as it was there, it’s now gone. After lunch and a phone call you don’t even think about it anymore. We’re all human and we all have thoughts we can’t control. Thoughts that could mean everything and thoughts that could mean nothing. That’s really up to you, it’s up to any of us what we give our time, effort and energy to.

This is the thing though, if you stay in the past, stay living in memories. It’s impossible to appreciate your present. Not fully. Not whole heartedly. How can you when stories and moments of times gone by are still playing like trailers on a movie screen in your head.

This week I made the decision to sell something that was a huge part of my past. I found myself holding on to it because it belonged to people that were very special to me. I’ve started a business, I need capital. I could hold on to something that gives me a good memory every now and again or I can let it go and use it to build on my present and future. Go into debt or make new memories with my old memories as a foundation. It’s an easy choice.

We can use a million different excuses as to why we want to live in the past but the simple truth is it’s an easy choice to make or not make. When you see someone making the decision to walk through old doors, to give time and attention to old memories. You have a choice to make. You talk to them and let them know or you give them room to embrace those old memories.

Thunderstorms, Trench Coats and High Heels

storms “Turn off the lights. Light a candle; because tonight I’m going to make love to you.” I was singing to her, rather badly but I loved to hear her laugh.

Last night was rough for her, grad school finals and taking on new responsibilities at work. As tired as I was, as she was, I stayed up with her. Sipping coffee, rubbing her shoulders, quizzing her on her notes. It was a long night but one I wouldn’t trade for the world.

“I’m going to need you to promise me you won’t show that sexy voice to anyone else. I don’t want to hurt someone for throwing panties at my man.” I could hear the smile in her voice.

Just like clockwork she called me as soon as she left work.

“Baby. Are you cooking tonight? I just want to come home and lay on the couch.” She still had her house. A house she paid bills at, that was twice as big as mines but whenever she spoke of lying on the couch at home she was talking about my couch.

Staying up all night with her, going straight to work and now I was going to have to make dinner too. A part of me knew she was spoiled but I didn’t have it in me to tell her no.

“I’ll take something out, how far are you?”

“I’m like 5 minutes away. I’m exiting 59 now. Oh babe! I see a cop, let me get off this phone before I pass this school zone! I’ll see you in a minute, love you! Bye.”

The call ended and I stood at the fridge looking inside wondering what the hell I was going to cook in this short notice. Settling on some chicken breast I threw them on defrost and started to grab what I needed when I heard a knock at the door.

I knew she had a key so when I looked out the window and saw her car in the driveway I figured she’d just forgotten to use it. When I opened the door my mouth dropped.

Standing there, a thin trench grey trench coat on, purple heels that added a good 4 inches to her height. Her hair bouncy and curly, holding a six pack in one hand, a pizza in the other. I didn’t offer to take the food out of her hands, didn’t move back so she could walk in. I just couldn’t stop looking at her. Couldn’t stop feeling like this wasn’t real. “I love you,”she mouthed to me. Unbuttoning the top button on her coat, showing me the lace underneath. “I want to suck….” She mouthed. The thunder was loud behind her, the rain even louder. My porch shielding her from the worst of it she licked her lips and smiled that smile that said so much.

Maybe it was a thank you for all I’d done knowing she needed to study and was fighting for a promotion. It could have been her being extra because we hadn’t had sex in a week. Or maybe she knew the draft was tonight and nothing went better with football then beer and pizza. Either way I took the stuff out of her hands. Pulled her inside and set the DVR to record what I obviously wasn’t going to be watching tonight.