Thoughts Before the Dawn 

I miss my grandmother and it’s easy to go on with life during the day. It’s not easy at 5:00am. 
I sometimes wonder if my vices will get the best of me. If i’ll die with a glass in my hand and a bottle at my feet. 

I worry that I’ll never have children. That I can’t have children. That I’ll never stand in a hospital room looking at my child that’s a perfect mix between me and his mother. 

I worry that I’m but the writer I believe I am. That I haven’t put any books out in 4 years because I believe they’ll flop. 

I worry that I’m incapable of ever truly loving anyone. Worry that there’s something broke inside of me. 

– Demez 

You Don’t Have to Put Her Down to Lift Her Up

182240_562470723185_118401058_31406809_1126638_n I don’t often talk in absolutes but this is the one instance I will. Some of us are really bad at being adults. What does that mean? We don’t know how to be mature and view things from the standpoint of “Everything isn’t about me.”

If you’re the type of man that has to put down the woman you used to claim to love in order to make another woman feel better about herself than the simple truth is you probably aren’t capable of loving the woman you’re putting her down for. Some relationships aren’t going to work. No matter how hard we try or how much we want it; they just don’t happen. That doesn’t mean that the love that existed between the two of you vanished. So telling the world how much he or she sucks or is worthless says more about you than the person you’re trashing.

I’ve seen people that were head over heels in love with someone in December talk about them like a dog in February. I’ve seen people that couldn’t stop letting us know when they were on a plane together or at their favorite restaurant look at that same person in disgust. When breakups first happen, they hurt like hell. There’s resentment, anger, jealously, rage, depression but at some point the sun is going to come out. That’s when you have to decide whether or not you’re going to move on.

Putting down someone us to let another person know how dope they are just isn’t cool and ask yourself one question. Should the foundation that you have with her be based on what you didn’t have with someone else?

Stop Making Excuses For Bad Behavior

I hold men to a higher standard than I hold women because men are supposed to be less emotional, more in control. I’m fully aware that for a lot of men that isn’t the case, they are more feminine in a lot of cases than women are but regardless of that men still have to be men.

In holding men so accountable what I’ve also done is not address a significant elephant in the room. Women making excuses for bad behavior. I’m not a hip hop writer but earlier this week or late last week Rick Ross got engaged and in typical rapper fashion he’s marrying a stripper. What comes with rapper+stripper+social media? Foolishness. His fiances mother said, after a woman accused the rapper of sleeping around, “It doesn’t matter what he does in the streets, men will be men. What matters is that he’s taking care of home.” People killed her on social media for that mindset but in reality they were just killing her for saying it online.

I want everyone that’s reading this to be honest with yourself. You don’t have to comment or tell the world but just be honest with yourself. How many women do you know that are married or that are in a relationship and they overlook questionable or bad behavior by their man. They overlook it because the good qualities out way the bad. They overlook it because he keeps whatever he’s doing a secret and he’s not embarrassing her. Let’s be honest. Our grandmothers, our mothers, they may have never said this was okay but we know they accepted it. We know they turned a blind eye and in turn they created a generation of women that think it’s okay.

I’m here to say it’s not okay. I don’t care if a man is taking care of home. I don’t care that he’s a good father or good husband of good boyfriend. Do you know how much of a hypocritical statement that is? How can a man be a good father when he’s unfaithful to the mother of his children? When those children here her crying or see her sad even though she thinks they don’t see it. How can a man be a good husband if he’s so weak that he is constantly seeking the attention of other women. Today I won’t put this solely on the men that are screwing up. Today I’m holding the women accountable that accept less than. That accept a man being less than a father, less than a husband, less than a friend.

I constantly hear stats about women outnumbering men or men having more options and maybe in a sense that’s true but you want to know what’s not true? It’s not true that men always reach for the low hanging fruit. It’s easy to convince yourself that a little bad, a little ain’t shitness is okay. But in convincing yourself of that what you’re ultimately doing is lowering your standards and being an active participant in your own broken heart.

I am one of those guys that would say, “If a man is going to cheat, that’s between him and his woman. What does that have to do with me?” I was wrong man, it’s my place to tell that guy whether he’s a friend or an associate that he’s wrong. That no woman deserves to be passed around or be forced to share. Too many men have become followers and have become afraid to lead, even if it’s only by example. And too many women have become afraid of being alone. Let me tell you something as a man that has done my fair share of screwed up things. There’s no solace, no peace in having half a man. Whatever pleasure you feel from an orgasm will quickly be replaced by the guilt and depression of feeling like you aren’t enough. Hold yourself accountable.

If your grandmother put up with your dad cheating and your mother put up with your father cheating what do you think is going to happen to your son or daughter if you put up with it? They are going to grow up feeling like it’s okay and it’s not. These kids are already exposed to more by the age of 10 then we were by 18. So why expose them to habits that will lead them down paths of unhappiness? Part of being a man is deciding that the love of one woman is worth a million women. Part of being a woman is deciding that the love of yourself is worth not accepting less than what you deserve.

~ Demez F. White

Rainy Sunday Thoughts

When I was out yesterday afternoon waiting on my friends to show up I checked Instagram. Mainly just to kill time. I saw a woman getting ready for a wedding and then I realized something. The woman whose wedding she was getting ready for was the woman who I thought I would marry. That’s the thing about social media, you can cut all ties to the person you were in love with but six degrees of separation is real.

At that moment our lives flashed before my eyes. At that moment I realized she was about to get married while I’m sitting in a bar excited about beer and football. Beer and football? She was the one that didn’t want to settle down, that wanted to run wild and now she’s about to walk to the alter and I’m here?

Life is ironic like that I suppose. You think you know what makes you happy but do you really? My writing is at a place where the words come so naturally. I can see the story in my head and tell it with such ease that I often smile while I’m at my laptop. Is that happiness though? Talent maybe, dedication, but happiness?

A woman once looked me in the eyes and told me that I made beautiful excuses. “They sound amazing Demez but the truth is they’re still excuses. You lost me because you weren’t willing to do what it would take to keep me. You don’t have anything published because you’re more willing to talk about being a great writer than actually writing and taking the chance people won’t like it. I love you but I’m not in love with you anymore. When you wake up and decide to grow up you’ll be an amazing man but I can’t wait for that. Goodbye.” I hated her in that moment because the truth hurts but it was necessary. It changed my life. She’s about to get married and I’ve been up all morning writing, trying to become that amazing man she believed I could become.

Sitting at my desk, watching the rain fall, I often wonder if I’m substituting making memories for writing. Will I have regrets because of the dates I cancelled or the parties I didn’t go to because I’d rather be sitting at this desk creating a story? I don’t know how to answer that. I don’t know if I’ll ever know the answer to that. I just know how I feel when I’m finished telling one of these stories. How I feel when there’s a novel in my hands and I see that finished product. I believe at that moment it’s worth it.

~ Demez F. White
storms

Everyone Dies But Not Everyone Lives

If I told you, you were going to die in a month, would you be satisfied with the life you’ve lived?

Would you cry over the kisses you didn’t attempt? Over the gigs you didn’t give?

Would you feel sorrow over not working enough or working too much?

If life is truly a gift why treat it like a burden? If every breath we take is a present from God why do we act as though its annoying?

To live life is to feel! To live life is to feel the sting of emotions happy and sad.

I’m not afraid to die, I’m afraid to die alone. To die unaccomplished. Death is but the footnote. The story, the novella is what we do with this gift called life we have been given.

What shall you do with yours?

~ Demez F. White

20140617-031922.jpg

If You Can’t Be Their Everything: Then How About You Be Their Nothing

20140422-143306.jpg There’s a point in every dating situation where you come to your Rubicon. That point where you want more than what you and that person currently have. In some cases it’s, “I want to be a wife and you still want to play this house/girlfriend-boyfriend game.” In other cases it’s. “I want a relationship, a commitment and you still want to date/talk.” Compromise is cool, being patient is even better but at some point if someone doesn’t want you to be their everything, then they have to be your nothing.

You can’t be a man like me, a man that lives by these values that endear women to you without having had conversations in which women want more. In my younger year I’d stall them, put them off, tell them what they wanted to hear only to have them realize it was never going to happen and end up hating me. I thank God he removed me from that mindset.

There is a certain calm that comes with releasing a person from mental and emotional bondage. If you know they like you more than you like them it’s selfish to hold onto them knowing you can never give them what they want. Sure you’re content because it isn’t affecting you and in most cases you genuinely like the person but will you ever genuinely love them?

I can’t take credit for these words because I found them online somewhere but I once read, “Sometimes a man’s job is to make the woman he’s with better for the man she’ll eventually marry.” I can’t tell you how many times I read that and thought about all the women I’ve dated and loved than seemed to find true happiness once I left their lives. That didn’t mean I wasn’t a good man, it just meant I wasn’t meant to be their man. I couldn’t be their everything so I ended being their nothing and in that initial hurt they realized they deserved better and they found better. How can I not respect that?

Know your worth and if you really want something, hold out for it.

Demez F. White

London… 12 Times A Year

letter-xy6k4pEvery city has the perfect view from a hotel room, in Chicago it was Lake Michigan, in New York it was the Hudson, in Miami it was South Beach. Some people loved sleeping in their own bed, I wasn’t one of those people, I loved hotels. Room service, new restaurants, bottles of liquor at three in the morning.

Even when I came home I would spend a night or two in a hotel if I knew I was going right back on the road anyway. There really wasn’t a waterfront view in Downtown Houston but it was beautiful none the less. Standing on the balcony, watching the sun rise, orange juice and vodka in hand. The view was amazing, I could see all of Downtown, the Medical Center, Minute Maid Park.

I soaked in details like men soaked in beautiful women, there was a story in every image, in every conversation.

Number nine, last night was number nine.

Twelve times a year, once a month she would come to me. San Antonio, Boston, Orlando but mostly right here in our city. I don’t know what she told him to get away and if I was honest with myself I probably didn’t want to know anyway.

Nine times this year we’ve made love in a hotel room, ate room service and showered together. Laughed and cuddled, she would talk about her aspirations, I would talk about writing.

February was New Orleans.

April was Austin.

Once a month she was mine, once a month my life felt normal. Watching her sleep, the sheet barely covering her ass, it was a perfect ass. Her hair on the pillow, the tattoo on her shoulder a constant reminder that she would wake up and leave at any minute.

She’d stop asking me to spend more time with her months ago, I’d stopped asking her to leave him a year ago. I wouldn’t be boyfriend number two but I couldn’t imagine a world without her. She didn’t want to be my once a month fling but she couldn’t leave me alone either.

Neither one of us was a victim, we were both adults. She had a husband, I had a girlfriend, I had writing. I climbed in the bed and wrapped my arms around her, she curled up and placed her head in my chest.

“Do you ever sleep?” She had the sexiest morning voice ever.

I pushed her hair away from her face, “Writers don’t sleep, we watch and learn.” I kissed her, her eyes were still closed. She was still tired but I needed to hear her voice, to make some more memories with before the clock struck midnight.

“How long have you been watching, what did you learn?”

She wrapped her leg around my thigh, she was naked, I was in boxers. I could feel her lips on my leg. She was always wet, especially in the morning. It was a feeling I could get used to but I wouldn’t allow myself to get used to. She kissed my neck, I kissed her forehead.

“I learned that you have a small scar on the bottom of your ass.” I rubbed my hand across it. “I learned that you never move when you sleep, you stayed in the same spot almost all night. Sometimes you talk but I could barely make out what you were saying.” I ran my finger across her lips, I could feel her hand on her favorite thing.

“I don’t move when I sleep because when my baby was nine months she fell out the bed and it scared me half to death. So I would sleep with her against the wall and never move, I had to feel her close to me. If you really knew me, if you were around me every day you wouldn’t be so into me. Sometimes I hate myself, I hate you for what we’re doing.” I took my finger away from her lip and wiped the tears from her eyes.

I knew what she meant, I wasn’t married but my girlfriend was a good woman. But I didn’t love her, she was someone to take to events, to have dinner with. To text when I was waiting in the airport or feeling lonely.

But no matter what she wouldn’t be the women who’s warmth I was absorbing, who’s tears I was drying. Who I stayed up all night watching and studying, writing about. She could never be my inspiration.

“Thou shall not covet another man’s wife. I think about that line every time I’m about to touch you, about to see you. I wonder if I’m going to hell because of you, because I look forward to seeing you more than I’ve ever looked forward to praying or going to church.”

She pulled it out and climbed on top of me, there were still tears in her eyes, the sheet was tangled at our waist. We’d stopped using condoms in March, I can’t tell you why, we never talked about it but a part of me wanted to get her pregnant. Everything was in slow motion, her hands on my chest, my hands on her ribs.

Her tears falling, lust and pain going hand in hand. She bit her lip and closed her eyes, she was starting to move faster, grind faster.  

“Am I worth hell Mez, am I worth your soul?”

She opened her eyes and looked down at me, they were the most beautiful and devious eyes I’d ever seen.

“Even pussy this good isn’t worth hell.”

She smiled, put her nipples on my chest and kissed me with those full lips.

My mouth may have said she wasn’t but my actions were saying something totally different. Maybe we would be together in hell.

 

Walking Down the Aisle

Available Now