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Common

Carla M. Cherry

    I was lounging at Red Rooster with Yolanda and Dee and the two men Dee met at Corner Social, Michael and Baraka, came over.

    Then i was pushed off into a corner, unsure if it was the glasses i wear because
    i was looking hot in red sandals/white top/black wrap/jeans rolled up to show off shapely calves.
    Baraka the tall handsome one, 39, single, with two baby mamas he didn’t marry because they wouldn’t cook. Now that he was drinking/disheveled, and into Dee anyway, thought:
    it is just as well.

    Just sipped the fruit punch that Michael, the married one, bought to keep me occupied, while he flirted with Yo and explained why he took off his ring when he went out without his wife.

    i was taking in the ambience and they started talking about
    how hard it is to be single
    and Yo says i needed to join the conversation.

    Michael said
    there are a lot of diseases out here like herpes and HIV
    and being single is scary
    and Dee says
    yeah but being married can be even scarier because of the men who cheat
    and Baraka says

you have to pay a lot for clean pussy

    I said, What did he say?
    Yolanda repeated it.
    I said, What do you mean by clean pussy?

    he said there are some chicks
    and I cut him off
    why does she have to be a chick a chick is a baby chicken
    and what do you call a man who sleeps with a chick
    and Baraka said what do you call him
    and I said I’m asking you

    Baraka said well chick is a colloquialism, and
    I said I know what a colloquialism is
    and it doesn’t justify your double standard.
    Why do you feel comfortable disrespecting us?

    With the joy sucked out of my evening I told them I was going outside.
    Yolanda asked where and I said I don’t know, I just need some air.

    Baraka apologized (to impress Yolanda)
    but Daddy raised me better than to waste wisdom on a dude
    who may not have had a father to teach him—
    discerning women who cook willingly are earned with love, commitment, and honorable purpose.

    It ain’t easy holding out for the right thing but it’s better than partnered misery.
    I stood in the glare of the bright lights outside the throngs of couples and singles on the prowl thinking I might go home alone
    but Yolanda and Dee came out.

    Dee said, see, that’s why I let my friends introduce me to men.

    Off we went, our hips swaying in unison to the beat of our heels click-clacking against Harlem pavement.

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