Again

"Hey Harold" says one of my acquaintances. He is not my friend, I don't really think I even like the man. He's more of a client than a friend.

"Hey back at ya man." I reply, fake smile firmly in place. "How are you." (No I ain't got no money)

"Cool. Man I have been meaning to talk to you for a while now."

"Really? About?"

"Me." (Of course, it would be about him. Everything is about him)

"What about you--this time." I am already getting tired of this conversation.

"Well, I have found the love of my life." (Somebody needs to tell this guy that just because a woman goes to bed with you, it does not mean that she loves you, or even cares for you. In the 21st century late 30 and 40 something women are better pimps and playas than the fellas.)

"Bully for you." (A whole week of unadulterated bliss for all those who know you.)

"She ain't like all those other bitches (an interesting description for the love of your life.)I been dealin with, she's smart, got a good job, nice car and her own house." (Then why the heck is she dealin with you? What besides a penis, do you bring to the party?)

"Congratulations, man I am really happy for you." My fake smile is really glowing today.

"Yeah, I want to keep this one. So I think I am going to rehab."

"Again?" (It just slipped out, I swear.) "I mean why are you going to rehab, this time?"

"Dang, you did not have to be that cold, I need to work on my recovery issues. I have not been going to meetings, etc. etc." (He has been rehearsing this conversation for a while.)

"Well before you go on a 21 day vacation, why don't you start with the meetings. After all man let's face it, you know all there is to know about recovery."

"See. You are just like my family, nobody wants to encourage me anymore."

"Sorry man, but what about new girl, how does she feel about this?"

"She does not know."

The fake smile vanishes. "How does she not know? Doesn't she wonder why a 45 year old man lives with his mother and his sister and never goes to work?"

"She just thinks I am a victim of discrimination against black men. She is the kind of sister that understands how hard it is for us. Man, I tell you she is a dream."

(Or a fool, I think almost out loud.)"Well how will you explain a 21 day vacation?"

"I don't know, this is about me anyway, it is not about her."

"Obivously."

"What do you mean?" he asks, raising his voice.

" It's always about you, in fact you are the most self centered person I have ever met in my life."

"See, Harold, that's why don't nobody like you. You say mean things and you are not supportive. Brothers need to stick together. There is a conspiracy to get us and we are falling for the trap."

Since I was not feeling up to a verbal altercation, I punked out. "Man I'm sorry. I was a little harsh. I guess I don't want you to mess up your good thing."

"It's all right. Hey, man can you loan me $10.00, see I got to go downtown...."

Suddenly, it hits me, this was the purpose of this whole ridiculous conversation. This Negro thinks I don't know him or I am stupid. I am mad but I am rejuvenated. "Why so you go on yet another farewell to crack tour?"

"What?"

"Negro man please. You want to go on a crack binge, so you convince yourself, that you're going to rehab in a few days so why not go out in style. You have done this before, several times. You better be careful or your ass is going to end up in hobo park."


Agitated that "the human ATM" is closed, "F**k this, I'm sick of niggas trying to run my motherf**kin' life. All y'all a**holes can kiss my ass. You think you bettern than me, that's bulls**t."

I am slightly disappointed that our conversation was not uplifting. "Hey man, I will be praying for you. I hope you are able to stick with it, this time."

"F**k you and your God. Don't pray for me, I don't believe in religion. Let me get the f**k on, I got things to do."

"Later. man" I say extending my hand.

"Go to hell." He says walking away. "Bitch ass punks always get on my nerves."