That One Time a Guy Took Me to Get Ice Cream and Broke Up With Me

Okay, we weren’t really together. Yall know how dating as a millennial goes. You go on dates, spend time together, do all relationship-y stuff, but you aren’t official official. Despite these facts, he officially broke things off with my ass at an ice cream shop.

I remember it like it was a couple months ago. He texted me asking if he could come over so we could talk. When he pulled up, I came outside because I had people at my crib and I didn’t want whatever this talk was going to be to happen around them.

I asked him if he wanted to go on a walk or something, and he suggested we go get ice cream. I’m thinking, cool, ice cream, maybe this talk won’t be bad at all.

It was bad.

As we ride in the car I notice the energy is weird between us. We are talking, the conversation is flowing effortlessly, but there is something there. By the time we get to the ice cream shop, I know something is up. We go in and he orders some ice cream, and I squeeze in a little booth towards the middle of the shop. Luckily we are the only ones in the store for whatever is coming next.

He gets his ice cream and sits down, and I just watch him as he devours his passionfruit (or dragon fruit) flavored rolled ice cream.

I wait. He waits. I wait some more. He speaks up.


He goes he loves me blah blah blah but he doesn’t want to keep chasing something and not being content with what he already has blah blah and wants to make it official with the other girl he was talking to before me blah blah blah.

He finishes his ice cream while basically ruining my day. Guess what this nigga did next? He went and ordered more ice cream! I can’t make this shit up. Mind you, I didn’t get any ice cream cause how the hell are you going to break things off with me over sugary goodness.

The nigga ruined ice cream for me. I’ll never forgive him.

The ice cream shop is covered in sticky notes left by people that have visited the place in the past. I write “KV was here” on one of the notes as I wait for his greedy ass to get a second helping of rolled ice heaven to commemorate the time a nigga took me to get ice cream just to shit on me.  

He comes back and sits down across from me and immediately starts digging in to the ice cream. Whatever flavor he had that time looked good as hell so I’m even more mad. I get a call, and use it as an excuse for him to take me home.

We didn’t talk anymore after that. But, of course, in true millennial fashion, he continued to watch every single one of my Instagram stories and like my pictures.

I should've dumped that damn ice cream on his head. Love sucks.

You Call Me Crazy, How Much Of That Was You?: How to Spot a Gaslighter

Gas-lighting is a term I’ve seen used a lot lately on the interwebs. It’s often used in response to someone during an argument. I’m seeing a lot of people accusing others of gaslighting, and a lot of people are responding to this accusation with “wtf does that even mean?” For those that don’t know:

Gaslighting is a form of psychological manipulation that seeks to sow seeds of doubt in a targeted individual or in members of a targeted group, making them question their own memory, perception, and sanity. Using persistent denial, misdirection, contradiction, and lying, it attempts to destablize the victim and delegitimize the victim’s belief

(definition taken from the University of Wikipedia)

So gaslighting is basically someone being a dickhead and making it seem like the other person is wrong or at fault, when in reality, they are just putting the blame on them knowing damn well they were being a dick.

I’ve seen this happen on social media, in friendships, and a lot in relationships. I most often see this happen in the form of exes being referred to as “crazy.”

Let’s sit on this for a moment. Are these exes really crazy, or are they made out to seem that way due to psychological manipulation?

I’ve had an experience like this before. A guy I used to talk to was on some other shit. First instinct told me that dude was tripping, but I somehow got caught in the fog of gaslighting, and allowed him to convince me that I was the one wrong.

I’m not going to get into what he did, I still have a hard time talking about it, but it made me realize that this may not be a rare occurrence. How many times have we met someone new, and when asked about their past relationships they respond, “Aw yeah my ex was crazy.”

I think it’s time we wade into the depths of gaslighting and learn how to navigate this manipulative mist.

Here are some tips on how to spot gaslighting.

When a motherfucka is lying

The easiest key is noticing when someone is flat-out lying. For example, I have a friend who met a guy. They hit it off. Started talking. She found him on social media later and saw that he had a FIANCE and BABY. The caption under the baby said “my seed” and the caption under the girl said “my life.”

When she confronted him about it, he said it was his nephew and sister. There was literally a picture of him kissing the girl in the mouth. Okay you’re either a lying bitch or an incest bitch, either way, leave my friend out of it.

They make you out to be untrustworthy

These people are the worst. They try to make you lose your credibility. For example, I have a bad memory. I mean, I can’t remember shit on shit. Sometimes that makes me a target for gaslighting. They try to make me out to be untrustworthy because of my bad memory. I may not remember people’s faces, names, where I’ve been last summer, what I wore yesterday, what I ate this morning, or if I fed my dog, but I do and will always remember is that you’re a bitch ass bitch.

They’re selfish

Gaslighters only care about themselves. They don’t really care about doing you harm per se, they just want their own way. If you come across someone that’s hella selfish, chances are they will do anything to get their way, including manipulating you through gaslighting.

Not everyone is a gaslighter or attempting to gaslight you in an argument. Sometimes you are just flat out wrong. It’s important to know the difference. Next time someone tries to make you out to be wrong ask them: You call me crazy, but how much of that was you?

One Minute We're Laid Up, And The Next Minute You're Playing Me Like A Crusty

Dating as a millennial sucks. First of all, I can’t even spell millennial without looking it up. Second of all, dating in this world is total trash. In a previous post I talked about how I am the trash-bag in some of my intimate relationships, which is true, but sometimes I’m not.

Dating as a millennial is meeting someone, getting to know them, being around each other so much that yall end up laid up watching Netflix and eating popcorn every night, to not even speaking in public.

How is this happening? How is it that you talk to someone, and once you start liking them, they ghost. Or you kick it with someone and share intimate experiences and think it’s about to turn into something serious, then they end up saying it’s not even like that (damn that’s me most of the time).

One thing I hate more than anything is getting played like a crusty. I feel like I have too much chip in my dip and too much wet in my drip to be played like a flaky ass hoe. Unfortunately, I have come to realize that I, too, may be a crusty to someone.

It was a hot summer night. I spotted him across the room and decided to shoot my shot. I walked over and stood next to him as he continued to contemplate the abstract art-piece on the wall before us.

I looked at him and smiled, he finally noticed I was standing next to him. I said, “You want to know something funny? I’ve been looking at you like you’ve been looking at this art. I think I want to know you.”

We kicked it like crazy after that. For months we were hanging out, going on dates, talking on the phone for hours. We were like those headass memes with people on the phone hanging out of windows or laying on top of kitchen stoves. I was lowkey still anti-relationship, but I was actually willing to see what would happen between us cause our chemistry was like that. It was all good, then out of nowhere, it wasn’t.

Calls were shorter and quality time was becoming non-existent. I can read the signs, so I planned to fall back, that is, until he called me asking if we can meet up. He swooped me up and took me to an ice cream shop down the street. I’ll just say, I haven’t had ice cream since then.

Dating is trash. Half of us are in relationships and the other half already dated each other or dated each other’s friends. We are stuck in this perpetual cycle of laid up to love sucks. I don’t know how to break this cycle of trash dating. I’m just going to try to start with stopping my own trash habits, and you should too.

Stop Lying About Our Time Together

I admit, I am not the best when it comes to commitment. When I subject myself to dating in this trash ass dating world, I am fully aware that, sometimes (most times), I contribute to the trash.

It happens all the time. I meet someone. Get to know them. Start vibing with them. Love intercourse. And that’s it. I don’t want to commit. I just want to chill and eat snacks in bed. This has been okay for me — mostly.

I say mostly because there are times when it is not okay. I repeat the cycle. Meet. Get to know. Vibe. Snack. Intercourse. Want to quit before we get too serious. And think that it’s cool because I assume the guy is on the same page, except there are times when he is not.

There are times when a guy wanted to be serious with me but because I didn’t want to, they pretend like they were just out to smash.

Whoa buddy. You got too much kif in your spliff.

I get it. Rejection is embarrassing. No one likes being in an unrequited love affair. But don’t lie like you didn’t care. Don’t lie like all you wanted was to hit. I thought we were better than that.

A guy once “fell in love with me” (whatever that means). He wanted a relationship. I told him before we started talking that I didn’t want any parts of a relationship. I wasn’t mentally ready for one. I just wanted to coitus and chill. Netflix and nut. Cuddle and cut. You get it. He said he was cool with that, until he wasn’t.

When he propositioned me for a relationship I guess he assumed I would be jumping for joy. I wasn’t. It was awkward. We immediately went from kicking it together often, to not talking at all.

I was upset because I thought I lost someone I considered a friend. That is, until I found out we weren’t friends like I thought we were. I found out he was talking shit. He was telling people I just some 2-dollar hoe he wanted to bust down. I may be akin to a hoe, but I’m damn sure worth more than 2 dollars.

Like hold on dude, that ain’t the story you were saying last week when you asked me to be your girl. I felt betrayed. Dude was really out here making up shit because his ego was hurt. That hurt me more than anything because I thought we were cool.

I’m trying to get better with my intimate relationships. I know I suck, but at least I’m not lying about what’s going on and what happened between me and whatever his face. I think he was a Cancer cause he was crying and shit. Or maybe a Leo, cause they be lying. No matter whatever his sign was, I need him to know to keep it G, don’t lie about our time together.

Men, Please Stop Leaving My Damn Passenger Seat Back

I was late picking him up because I was busy taking my time getting ready. I stopped by the gas station by his house first to pick up some chips and juice cause I be needing snacks. When I finally arrived to his place about an hour after I told him I was on my way, I text him to come outside and got lost in the music blaring from my Honda’s little speakers.

I didn’t notice him walk up to the car until he opened the door and got in. I turned the music down to say what’s up, and that’s when I saw it.

He said something before I could get a word out to defend myself.

“You had a nigga in your car?”

Caught. Captured. Indictable.

My passenger seat was left leaning all the way back by the previous rider in my car. I didn’t notice it was left back until the current passenger was uncomfortably and forcibly thrown into a laid back seating position that is not typically his own.

He adjusted the seat to an upright position, then adjusted it to his perfect 130 degree angle, instead of the absurd, yet relaxing, 150 degree angle it was in previously.

I waited to see if he would say anything else. He didn’t, so I just responded “aw” and put the car in reverse before pulling off.

Attention men that ride in my car. Stop leaving my damn seat back when you get out.

What game are yall trying to play? Are you trying to let it be known that you were in our car? Is this equivalent to dogs pissing on fire hydrants to mark their territory, or women leaving panties at your house, or kids leaving toys in the middle of the yard?

Are men leaving our seats back to communicate with the next guy that he was there?

It’s cool if you want to let your seat into a comfortable position while riding around with your female companion, but let it up before you get out. Are you the FEDs? Why are you trying to let someone know you were in my car?

Leaving a woman’s seat back is worse than leaving your flip-flops at her house, or a pack of backwoods in the cup holder. You claim to hate snitches but steady dry-snitching in the form of a laid-back car seat.

Passenger seats being left back wouldn’t be a problem if men didn’t automatically assume it meant you were getting your yams tapped by whoever was in your car last. It’s just not true, but also, sometimes, it absolutely is. So let’s just stop being messy and let the damn seat up.

All Saiyans Go to Heaven


Powerful, flawed, genuine, and always late. When you think about the famous Saiyan Goku, these words come to mind. These words also come to mind when you think about Tyrell aka “The Finesse god.”

Just like Goku, Tyrell was powerful. People were awed by his artistic talent and drawn towards his energy. If his artistic ability had a power level it would probably be equivalent to Trunks during the Cell saga. Not the strongest in the universe, but you knew that wasn’t his limit. Hella potential. You were excited to see little Trunks grow up.

Tyrell was also very flawed. He had a dark side, similar to the Saiyans. He had to battle his darkness everyday. He had to fight against himself to become the Finesse god we all knew.

Unlike Vegeta, Tyrell didn’t think he was the best. No matter how much people believed in him or told him he was great, he wouldn’t listen. He just trained. He worked day in and day out on his craft. There were moments when I would go days without seeing him, and when I finally visited him, he had 3 or 4 new art pieces hanging in his house. He worked so much he didn’t need a hyperbolic time chamber.

If you knew him, you probably have never met a more genuine person. He always had a goofy smile plastered on his face. He told you how he felt, and always tried to be welcoming and warm.

Although he was often a warm energy to be around, he was not always friendly. He was genuine because he didn’t try to hide his darkness from you. He was a Saiyan that still had his tail attached. You loved him anyway. He would always tell you when the full moon was coming around.

Tyrell was also genuine in his portrayal of Master Roshi. He loved the ladies. Period. Unlike Master Roshi the ladies loved him back. He was still a perv though.

Goku was known for being late to battles. I can’t think of one DBZ saga where Goku was on time to fight the enemy. Much like Goku, Tyrell was late to everything. He worked on his own schedule. He would tell you that he was on his way when in reality, he was still sitting at his computer working on a design.

We don’t have dragon balls or Shenron to wish him back. We don’t have King Kai to help us communicate with him from the heavens. What we do have is our memories and his legacy.

Although we will miss him, it’s nice to think that our Saiyan is running on Snake Way,  getting ready for his next adventure.

Just like you did on earth brother, keep working hard, don’t fall off that path, and show them why you earned the name “Finesse god.”


Let Black Children Be Children

They deserve it. 

All children deserved to be treated like human beings. Black children deserve to be treated like valuable and fragile little human beings — like other children get to be treated.

We hold black children to the standard that we hold most adults and that’s not fair.

When a black child does something wrong, why is the child often referred to as a “man” or “woman” or “adult” by the media? Did our children not earn the right to a childhood because they were born Black?

When Trayvon Martin was murdered, some media reports referred to him as a man. Same with Tamir Rice. Same with Michael Brown.

Maybe it’s because black boys are perceived as older than they actually are. Maybe it’s because Black children are adults until proven innocent.

What’s more problematic is that society often blames black children for their behavior, but excuses the same behaviors that occurs in other children.

One study even stated, “When it came to how often schools doled out punishment, students’ race appeared far more significant than their actual behavior.”

Black children are suspended at exponentially higher rates than their white peers for the same infractions. Even Black children in preschool are criminalized for what should be considered kid behavior.

Black kids are more likely to get arrested than other students. Black students are more likely to be disciplined for subjective offenses (defiance and loitering) while white students are punished for more objective offenses (vandalism, fighting, truancy).

Gender makes no difference. Black girls are suspended at higher rates than other girl students for the same offenses. Black boys are suspended at higher rates than all other students for the same offenses.

Why are black children being targeted for their behavior when study after study says black children exhibit the same behavior as their peers? Why aren’t black children allowed to make bad decisions — like children tend to do — without the behavior being associated with their character? There are no bad children, they just make bad decisions.

There’s also an equally insidious problem that is preventing black children from having a childhood.

I teach in a school that has had more than a number of serious behavior issues from students. My school is entirely African-American, and some of the behaviors I’ve seen at my school are reminiscent of scenes from Lean On Me — and I teach in an elementary school.

I get it. Sometimes kids make really really bad decisions. Sometimes it is hard to not punish students for their bad behavior because, well, the behavior isbad.

Still, there are no bad kids. There are bad adults.

Now I’m not saying teachers are the problem. I’m not saying parents are the problem. We all are the problem. Society as a whole has deprived black children of their right to be a child.

Black children are disdained by the media. Forgotten by the community. Shunned by adults — parents, teachers, and community members alike. Forcibly given adult responsibilities because of generational poverty. In many ways, they are grown. They were forced to grow up. A history of implicit biases, institutional racism, generational poverty, and a general lack of human respect took their childhood.

So how can we expect black children to act like children when, in so many ways, they are forced to be adults?

Children are not responsible for how they are as children. We are responsible for how they are as children, and if we do not look for ways to give them their childhood back, we will be responsible for how they are as adults.

Stop asking “What’s wrong with this generation?” and remember that we are the ones that raised it. We bred the kids into mini adults, then we punish them for being children. When we see children behaving in extreme ways, what do we expect? This was our creation.

Black children are growing up in a system that punishes them and tells them they are bad, and the adults that look like them are telling them the same thing.

We can give Black children their childhoods back by loving them. No matter their behavior. No matter how much they curse or fight or act “deviant” they are, and always will be, children.

We may not be able to change a child’s poverty status. We may not be able to change how the media perceives them.

As a collective, we can change school policy. Disproportionate suspension rates must stop. We can love black children in ways that shows them that they are valuable human beings. “It is easier to build strong children than to fix broken adults.”

We need to stop blaming Black children for their behavior, and find more ways, even when it’s hard, to love them.

Black women don’t like you cause you’re crusty, not because you’re nerdy

Clear the flakes off your skin before you try to come for black women. 

It won’t stop. My social media is filled with men claiming black women don’t go for the “nerdy” type and that’s the reason why nerdy black men only date white women. “Black women only go for thugs and hood types and that’s why” blah blah blah.

First of all, shut the hell up.

It seems like “nerd” has replaced “good guy” in this never-ending debate about what black women are doing wrong when it comes to dating. Ever think that maybe YOU are the problem huh? HUH? 

Crusty ass self-proclaimed nice guys think they are entitled to women just because they don’t call women bitches (to their face) and ugly ass nerdy men think women are turning them down cause they like anime but really it’s cause you musty. 

You know why black women don’t like you in particular? Cause you dirty. You don’t wash that marvel shirt you’ve been wearing for 2 weeks and you haven’t showered since Fortnite was released.

Okay. Maybe you have decent hygiene. Black women still don’t like you and you’ve convinced yourself it’s cause you are a nerd. Have you ever thought that maybe you’re just not her type (as in ugly)? 

Men are not entitled to women (any woman). It doesn’t matter if you are a nerd, nice guy , or drug dealer. If you want to date a black woman, be a decent person, wash your face, and don’t be socially inept. Try it and see how that works out for you. 

Stop thinking black women don’t like you just because your interests are different. Most of us like someone that can teach us something new or show us something different. If for the life of you, you can’t get a black woman to love your nerdy ass I advise you to put your nose under your armpit and take a deep breath. Was it ripe? There’s your answer right there. 



Fuck them Highlighter Ass LimeBikes

Fuck them E.T. phone home cruiser but no beach limewire ass bikes.

Don’t get me wrong, I love the idea of increasing accsessibility to people across social-economic statuses. We all know St. Louis needs some help increasing accessibility for those that need it with the city’s refusal to expand the MetroLink. But I loathe the fact that people are equating having these bright ass bikes as something “nice for the city” *insert mocking spongebob meme here* and that people “stealing” them and vandalizing them is why St. Louis can’t have nice things. 

Here are some facts:

  1. LimeBikes are tracked by GPS and are contolled by smart lock that prevents the back tire from moving until the bike is unlocked by phone.
  2. You can literally park the bike anywhere you want. Yes, that includes the North Side of St. Louis. That’s the whole point of it being a bike sharing company. 
  3. You need an app to unlock the bike and it costs $1 to unlock for 30 minutes and 15 cents a minute after that. Also, if you don’t relock your bike when you park it/finish riding it, it is essentially unlocked and a free ride for anyone that comes across it . 

Now that we have the facts out of the way, let me address the problems:

  1. When you see a group of LimeBikes being ridden by a group of black youth and assume they are stolen YOU are the problem with St. Louis. YOU are the reason we can’t have nice things because you hate Black people. I already explained that these bikes are tracked by GPS and locked through technology. Did I mention they have alarms on them? So if they are locked but you are moving them, an alarm sounds. And if the bikes really are being stolen — fuck them bikes. If the kids in St. Louis can’t get a decent education, access to healthy food, and a safe environment, the least they can get is a free bright ass bike. 
  2. Yes. Some bikes are being vandalized, but guess what? This has happened in every single city that this company launched in. It’s not a St. Louis thing. It’s a people thing. The company anticipated vandalism when they started the company. People vandalizing bikes is, again, NOT why St. Louis doesn’t have nice things. You know why St. Louis doesn’t have nice things? Racism.
Seattle (AKA not St. Louis)

Seattle (AKA not St. Louis)

Seattle again (AKA not St. Louis)

Seattle again (AKA not St. Louis)

Dallas (AKA not St. Louis) 

Dallas (AKA not St. Louis) 

Fuck LimeBike and fuck anyone that thinks a million dollar company bringing ride sharing to our dilapidated, segregated, and racist ass city is the greatest thing to happen here since the invention of the ice cream cone. If you want, use the bike to help with short commutes or ride around the park or take a trip downtown, but shut the fuck up about these bikes being nice things cause at the end of the day, it’s just a bike. And what we need is a lot nicer than that shit. 

Don't worry, this is Dallas (AKA not St. Louis) 

Don't worry, this is Dallas (AKA not St. Louis) 

Of Magic and Madness

Early last year, I lost my mind.

I was trying to process losing my brother from gun violence. Still grieving from losing my dad in the same way 6 years prior. Still trying to forgive my body for losing a child. Still trying to heal from trauma after trauma.

And I lost it.

I remember going to bed that night, and as I lay there, I started trembling. I was shaking so badly my headboard was banging against the wall. I started hallucinating. I started remembering things that didn't happen. I felt physically ill and didn’t have the strength to get out of bed.

And I stayed that way, shaking and seeing things, until 7am the next morning. I know now that I had a mental breakdown back then. I felt like I was broken, but even after that night, people kept telling me that I was so strong and powerful to have endured so much and still push through.

I wanted everyone to stop telling me that I was powerful. They didn’t see the night terrors I suffered from. They didn’t see how my sweat soaked through my sheets and how my trembles caused my bed to shake and how I couldn’t decipher what was real from what was just in my head. I thought, when everyone told me I was powerful, they were lying.

Then I started writing. I wrote about losing my mind. I wrote about being hurt. I wrote about losing life. And I wrote about happiness, peace, joy, and love, too.

And somewhere in that cathartic process of writing out my ill and affirmative experiences in life I realized that power does not always equate to strength. Sometimes being powerful is having the ability to help others realize the strength they have in them.

The poems started off just being words of affirmation I felt I needed to get through my breakdown. Then I saw that I needed to also write about my breakdown to process it. Then I started writing about everything in between.

Before my brother was killed, I wrote a completely different poetry book. He was working on my book cover and was never able to finish what he started. After writing so many small affirmations and descriptions of my pain, I realized I had enough content for a completely new book. I decided to scratch my old book and I began compiling my work to create a new one.

On July 14th, what would be my dad’s 55th birthday, I held my debut poetry book in my hand. Releasing Of Magic and Madness meant more to me than checking off a goal on a bucket list. It meant being able to tell my story in its wholeness. Being able to show people that it is ok to be strong and broken. I could show people that yes, I am powerful, but I also hurt a lot .

I think we get so caught up in believing we can only embody one thing, we forget that humans are multidimensional with many modes of existences. We all live in the gray area of life, and that’s actually the most human thing to do.

I’m human, and something about that is powerful. I can endure inexplicable pain and suffering. Sometimes I make a mistake and enact that suffering on others. Sometimes I channel the hurt into something good. But all the time, I keep trying to get it right.

And there has to be some magic in that.