I remember dating this girl a few years ago that clearly wasn’t my type. Let me be a little more honest. That chick was hood. It didn’t matter that she went to college or that she was a Delta. She was the type that probably used to carry razors in her mouth and beat up dudes despite the fact she was like 5’3. I dated her because she was a Black/Latina beauty and the first woman that I thought “had it all together.” Dominique-Shakeisha was the worst dating decision of my life. Her friends were also the worst auto-dating decision of my life.
One of the painful lessons I learned from dealing with Dominique-Shakeisha and her gossiping friends was to not date anymore sorority girls; or at the very least, not date any sorority girls that had an assortment of single and unattractive sorority friends. I used to listen to them giving lackluster and bitter advice to each other. “Girl, you better be careful with him. You know he from Harbor Point in Dorchester. You remember what happened with the last dude from there you dealt with right? He probably just like Pookie and ‘nem.”
I can also remember getting into an argument with Dom-Sha and her defaulting to “Just cuz you went to Cornell, you think you know everything. You ‘smart’ n*ggas always got something to say.” Hope was lost. And when the relationship ended and I thought I got the last laugh, she made my life hell for the next 7-8 months. First it was a restraining order that got thrown out. Then it was pressing fictitious charges that also got tossed. I recall looking to my right after the judge scorned her for wasting the court’s time and how she stormed out the court room. Best moment ever followed by a long lasting sting and I don’t mean STDs. Use Trojans and bumper guards.
Dom-Sha changed the way that I screened and responded to women. If I met a sorority girl, I immediately defaulted to no way no how. If I met a girl that was from a fairly hood area (define that how you’d like) I’d run for the hills. If I met a Latina-Black combo, I assumed that beneath the layers of aesthetic goodness hid a strait jacket shorty. If I met Geminis or Scorpios, I quickly buried my head in sand and waited for them to go away.
I can recollect telling a few of my boys about my dating philosophy. One of the great things about my friends is that they have no problem no-signing me. If I’m being reckless, illogical, or irrational, they tell me about it despite how defensive I may become. A couple of them had no issue telling me that my screening process was messed up. I walked away from the conversation feeling salty, but then it made sense. I remember saying to myself “I can’t judge the ones I meet based on the ones I met.” My thought process, for the most part, hasn’t been the same since. It’s a good thing. I can thank rational friends for that.
I also thought back to my dealings with Dom-Sha and her friends. I see their presence in many of the women that I encounter today. They cosign their friends wayward screening processes or bring to mind a memory of the past dude that isn’t the guy they’re dealing with today. More often than one would expect, the guy of today that’s paying for her past mistakes, relationship shortcomings, and dinner is leaps and bounds above “that guy,” but she’d never know it because she’s reading the backwards almanac written by herself and her friends. Quite tragic if you ask me, but what do I know?
Better yet, what do you think? Is this phenomenon of bad advice and invalid historical references still as big an issue as I make it out to be? Are men equally as guilty of listening to their friends and comparing women of the past to the new women that they’re too blind to see have it together? Other thoughts?
Your birthday is November what? Nuh-uhhhhhhhh girl bye,