By dotropolis on Saturday, April 5th, 2014
About five months ago, I was reading an interview with Danny Brown on some fashion website and he was talking about what influenced his attire. The sentence that stuck out to me was, “I dress for who I want to attract.” And I never done that. Whoever I attracted, I attracted and we would work out our differences and enjoy our similarities. Subconsciously though, I began to do the same thing. Last year I was wearing this green and orange plaid peacoat because i was really into colors at the time. This winter, I wore mostly black. Black fitted coat that sat at my waist. Steve Madden shoes for work, which was new considering that I wore my Clarks prior to that, and fitted dress pants. Fitted jeans and higher quality button ups when I was going out. Without noticing, I started caring about how people viewed me and I desperately wanted to be recognized as a man.
It worked. Until I started having problems at my job. On one random Wednesday, my boss gave me an assignment that was due in an hour and I couldn’t get it done. Then she started scheduling one on one meetings with me to talk about my performance and my workload. Beginning from January 2014, each week got worse and worse. Stress was giving me these headaches where the pain would be on both sides of my head and in the front as opposed to the normal headaches in the back of my head. My hair was disappearing fast. I got fat in the face. My mother noticed my spirits were down and cornered me into a conversation one Sunday. Another conversation I initiated with my mentor after work one other day. They both said I lost my confidence and it’s something I never experienced up until that point. Sometime in February, my boss accused me of dropping the ball with another big situation. She yelled and cussed at me this time. A couple days later, I scheduled a one on one with her and told her she was wrong for speaking to me that way whether i dropped the ball or not, even though I really didn’t. She didn’t want to take responsibility and didn’t apologize so we agreed to disagree. But I felt like a giant because I knew in my heart that I wasn’t wrong and i had the evidence to back it up. My confidence was back but I was still wearing mostly black.
A few weeks after that, I went to the mall to pick up some dress shirts and I noticed a lot of white women flirting with me. More than usual. I was confused because they never give me any kind of attention. Plus, my fascination with being romantically involved with white women died a couple years ago (for no real reason). Here and there since that month, it kept happening and it’s still happening more frequently than I’m used to. Like yesterday. I went to Noodles and Company and the manager handed me my food with the biggest smile and that ‘damn, where you come from?’ eye contact. It’s a fucking mystery to me. However, I do remember telling my little cousins years ago when dealing with women, it’s never about what you’re wearing. It’s all about your confidence. Believing in yourself and believing that nobody is better for the person you want to go after. And making sure that person knows that too.
By dotropolis on Sunday, February 2nd, 2014
There’s this blog I follow that posts nothing but women with curves. And it’s one particular woman that’s posted all the time with thick legs, big booty, and the smallest waist you’ll probably see. It’s odd because it’s the tiniest part of her body and I’m sure this is due to her wearing a corset, which she sells on Instagram. It’s nothing that bothers me either way but it is noticeable.
I won’t say who specifically, in case she happens to read this, but a woman that I’m close to came to me the other day and asked me to help her tie a corset around her torso. We attached the first of probably 20 hooks and she was struggling to breathe. She had to take deep breaths for every hook and it was painful to listen to since she doesn’t have a flat stomach. It bothered me, trying to squeeze this contraption around her. And if she was planning on wearing it all day or all week or all month, it’ll be torture. I wanted to say, “Whoever you’re doing this for, they don’t deserve you.” Instead we tried to attach this Jigsaw puzzle to her body for 15 minutes. But the most torture that we, men, put ourselves through for women is washing our ass. And sometimes we don’t even do that. For me specifically, in the past few years I dated a woman with an overbite, a woman with a very big nose, a barely chubby woman who thought she was obese, a skinny woman who thought she was fat, and I never considered any of these things a problem when I was with them. Honestly, I think we’re all missing the bigger picture when it comes to attracting the opposite sex. It’s not about appearance or weight or even personality. It’s about hygiene. And if you ever learn anything from reading my posts, I hope you learn to always wash your ass. No days off. Pretty please.
With sugar on top.
By dotropolis on Monday, January 27th, 2014
…and the bathtub.
I was at a mexican restaurant last month paying for my food at the register. It’s a small place with brick interior walls and tiny wooden tables. There’s only one cook, a man, and two waitresses, two women. All three of them rotate with working the register and they speak english just good enough for you to understand them. I gave one of the women my debit card, which has my full name on it including the “II” after my last name. She said, “Ohhh you’re a second? That’s so nice. Are you going to name your son the third?” “Yeah probably.” I laughed a little bit because she seemed like one of those people that love kids. I’m not one of those people. I like kids and kids love me but I don’t like the idea of having my own. Not yet.
Two of my male cousins are having babies. One is having twins, a boy and a girl, and the other is having a boy. The boy’s name will be Blake Daniel Sanders. Blake is expected to be born this week and I honestly won’t believe that he exists until I hold him for the first time. It’s the first baby in our family that I’ll consider my nephew because me and his father have been around each other so much. You know that cousin that you’re forced to take a bath with when you’re a baby? And some jackass ends up taking a picture of you two and showing them to you your whole life to remind you of it? Yeah, he’s that cousin. I’m low key more freaked out than anybody. I keep picturing that random call I’ll get while I’m work that the mother is in labor. The lobby where they make you wait and how much pain she’ll be in. Looking at him for the first time and experiencing his hand gripping one of my fingers. And how much he’ll probably look like my cousin in that picture of us in that bathtub. The older you get, the more you see your friends and family members around your age have babies and get married and secure better jobs and progress and grow and evolve. There are people that actually take steps back the older they get but you never notice them really. You want to keep up with the ones you consider successful. Or at least have something going on. So some days you’ll feel like you’re in a rut. Other days are little different.
You’ll just be happy to not have any children.