A Series of TWOS

After dating every loser, criminal, and asshole on this side of the Prime Meridian, I feel like I deserve a medal of some kind. One that says, “This bitch made a series of poor life choices and is still around to tell the tale.” I’ve learned a few things along the way. So, in honor of Ghetto Genius’s two-year anniversary, I’m going to break down a REAL relationship, the good kind, in a series of twos. Real talk.

2 Hours: Oh, you caught the eye of a random mother fucker at a bar, and he asks for your number because he wants to holler at you later? Ain’t no such thing as the 3-day rule. That shit is for chumps. A real man will text you at the end of the night to make sure you got home safe. Not to ask you for a booty call. Not to ask for your sister’s number. Just a, “Hey, it was great to meet you. Hope you got home safe.”

2 Weeks: He’s taken you out on a few dates by now. Maybe you’re considering giving him the boot because he’s taken you to restaurants that have napkin dispensers instead of those stuffy white cloth napkins. But, you can’t pull the trigger because he’s been considerate: asking you on dates days in advance, texting you when he’s busy to let you know he’s “thinking about you” even though he can’t talk, and asking you questions about yourself, and then ACTUALLY LISTENING to your answers. Hoe, put those gold-digging tendencies away. A fat bankroll doesn’t equal a better man. This one may be a keeper.

2 Months: You’ve met his friends. He’s not hiding you, and he’s proud to show you off. He thinks you’re the mother fucking bomb, and let’s be real…you ARE the bomb. You don’t nag when he’s having a bad day, you’re down to let him do his thing when he wants to have a boys night out, and you even brought him some chicken soup and a blow job that one time he thought he was dying of the Bubonic Plague last week.

2 Seasons: He still stops to look you up and down and appreciate the time and effort you took getting ready for a date. He still holds the door open for you. When he talks about Rita, that psycho bitch at work, you know exactly who he’s talking about, and you want to push that fucker in the face. You like him, he likes you. It may even be….love.

2 Years: When you’re standing across the room from each other at a party, you can have a whole conversation without ever saying a word. What y’all got going on…this shit is forrealz. Like, FORREALZ for real. He tells you he loves you, and not just because he’s hoping for anal sex that night. He’s the first one you call when you lose out on that dream job. He’s the first one you call when you GET that dream job. And when he congratulates you, you can tell by the ease in his voice that he is really happy for you. Because we want the best for the people we love. Because…no matter what…you that he will be in your corner always, in all ways.

Happy 2-YEAR ANNIVERSARY! THANK YOU J and the rest of the CREW for helping me keep it real, even when it was so much easier to fake the funk. You bitches always have my back. I love you.