I always say the worst type of crazy is where you tell others about your experience with the person and in turn they think that you are also crazy because the description of the events are so out of this world. That is not the type of crazy I think every man should have in his life. No sir. There is also call your phone 20 times in a row, take every word you say and twist the meaning to her liking crazy, nope that’s not the kind either.

To give you a little history lesson, some time ago I had a brewing fear inside of me of becoming that crazy girl men talk about to their new girlfriends and bruh’mans in the barbershop. Who wants to be associated with the crazy girl? She can’t keep a man, her friends are on a smile and nod basis, not to mention she is the butt of every joke. She is the outcast of society, and we all desperately and innately want to fit in so becoming her is not cool.

For instance, I was involved with a man, let’s name him Hezekiah * shrugs * and in my mind I rationalized that lil ole Hezie was the best thing since sliced Hardo Bread. He was brilliant, a man with original ideas, ambition, mysterious, a great dancer, and the life of the party. He was perfect on paper, in the beginning he searched high and low to seek me out and get into the space. I found the fact that he was so persistent a turn on because to be honest, it was rarity in my life.

I didn’t know what to do when you actually have a man’s attention; I mean this wasn’t a required credit in college, although I sincerely wish it were. Back to my story, in short our interaction turned into one of those I-like-him-more-than-he-likes-me-but-he-keeps-me-around-because-I-have-a-great-personality-and-I-never-say-NO, situations. No shame, just telling it like it is. What’s your truth? I told the story once before in this post.