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One more day til the weekend! Woot! And back to business!
Do y’all remember learning in elementary school about how the prettier, more colorful birds were actually the male birds? And that they had bright plumage to get the ladies’ attention? Ahhhh… isn’t it exactly the same in the human world?
Of course as you get older you have to figure out which of the flashy pretty ones, might be gay. But once you jump that hurdle, you are then left with the flashy ones who are parading around like peacocks, thinking that their shiny, pretty things should be enough to get the girl.
You’ve seen these birds. In the club. At the happy hour. At the cookout. At that bourgie function your homegirl dragged you to. Oh wait is that just me being dragged? There he is, all puffed up, feathers just a glistening. Shiny. Colorful. Bold enough to wear pink. No homo. Or thinkin’ he’s Andre 3000 with an ascot on. He is more than the cutie who has on the nicest suit or a well put together outfit that makes your head turn.
No, his kind is easily recognizable. A wee bit too flashy. Wearing that [enter really nice watch here] and waving it in your face. Or driving that luxury car. Able to drop where he works into any and every conversation. Y’all were talmbout the Ming Dynasty and somehow, someway he brings it back to his work on the Hill. **Timeout y’all – Once I went to a function and I was relaying the details back to my mama and I said, “why are you telling me about your job? I don’t care that you work on the Hill. And she said, “People still doing that?! That’s what we hated most when we first got to DC. We were from Chicago and were like we don’t care what y’all do. Where be the dranks?!? Word up mama! Where be the dranks?!** Ok back. So here’s that dude name dropping all over the place. You ask what school he went to and his reply is, “Oh…. a school in Boston.” And like my homegirl once said, you wanna choke him and be like, “just say Harvard!”* It is in the presentation, no?
I remember long ago (ok maybe like 4 or 5 years ago) Urban Guerrilla (we go lots of places together – heh) and I were at le bar. So, these two guys approach. And it turns out they’re married. Argggg! Then get away, please! But no, they held us hostage. So, this one guy not so casually drops into the conversation that he has a boat.
Blink. Blink. Ok ma, and?
His response, “I can tell you went to Spelman cause I coulda told you I had a spaceship in my backyard and you woulda been callin’ it a rocket.
I mean you said you had a boat, not a yacht. And you’re married. Sooo…… He then proceeded to tell me about how he and his wife love to take the boat on the water.The boat. The boat. The boat.
I distinctly remember re-capping the experience via email with another friend and how dude was all, “our friends don’t wanna hang out with us anymore because they’re jealous.” Her response? Or maybe it’s because you keep.talking.about.the boat.
And he was one of the married ones who felt the need to prance around and show all his feathers. So, you know it’s ten times worse with the single dudes.
As one wades through this dating pool – there are some lessons you gotta learn. Some signs you gotta see from miles away. With your eyes closed. Some things you gotta recognize. Like – there’s a difference between confident and cocky. No Kanye. That it’s one thing to have a Mercedes Benz whatever series because you admire the German craftsmanship, it’s another to think I should drop my draws because of it. It’s one thing to acquire items. It’s another to covet them. It’s one thing to have personal goals/dreams/aspirations. It’s another to lack complete humility along the way.
Yes, you can look nice, enjoy fine wines, take awesome vacations, and have art on the walls – but what else are you bringing to the table? Who are you without the Ivy League degrees? The six figure job? The house? The other possessions? Or shooot we can take it down a peg to just a degree from that State school, a 9-5, and an apartment? Cause some of these nigs are thinking us ladies owe em something just because they’re here. I blame Steve Harvey n’em.
But back to the point, once we get past those pretty feathers, as my mama would say, “what else you got?” And please don’t show me your Basquiat.
Share a story about a pretentious/flashy/Peacock dude you’ve met!
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