If you’re wondering if today is my b-day, you are absolutely correct. It’s my 30th. I’ve decided to do 30 over since I didn’t like how it all panned out. Anyhow, this is the first time in about 13 years where I didn’t have anything planned. Color me less than pleased. But it is what it is, right?
Oh and this was hastily written days ago. I realize it’s a bit stale but I fear the wrath of Beloved and her cronies! So I scheduled this to post this morning at the exact time of birth listed on my birth certificate.
Does everyone remember the last episode of Friends? And don’t act like y’all didn’t watch Friends. The one where Ross and Rachel finally got together? Not only do I remember the episode but I remember the night it first aired. And if you’ve been reading since I was “Speaking” then you know what happened to me that night. I always wondered what would have come of Ross and Rachel had the show continued to air. But now I know exactly what would have happened.
At the end of the show, we thought they were gonna get back together. Hell, they probably even thought they were gonna get back together. But that’s not what would have happened. They would have ‘NotDated’ for a minute. They’d end up parting ways. Rachel would try to turn Ross into a frociate. And just when she thought she’d been successful, she’d come to know that, just as it’s damn near impossoble for men and women to be friends, it’s even more unlikely to change Ross into her frociate. Because just like with man/woman friendships, at various points in the relationship, ones gonna be wanting a little more from the other person.
Hostess, how do you know it would happen like this?
Because you can’t go trying to turn a lamp into an airplane!!! It’s impossible. Friday, once again, was a night where highlights were hastily scribbled onto a cocktail napkin. Unfortunately, I can’t read too many of the notes. The title is actually one of those notes.
The posse, or at least the women, had agreed to meet at a club…Ozzio’s. We get there, check coats and go upstairs. Who do I see but none other than Leon? All you light-curly men can thank Leon and Terrance Howard for putting y’all back on the map!
An old ‘friend’ of mine, FL (Yes, FL.) was having the first of his weekend long birthday celebratory events there. I haven’t spoken to him since last summer. Midweek, I got the invite to his birthday stuff. I was already going to be there so it wouldn’t kill me to wish him a happy b-day too. Right? I even RSVP’d. I’m classy like that! Quietly though, in the back of my mind, I was hesitant just a slice. Me, FL, and liquior? He has had a rather rich history of showing his natural beige ass under the influence. But whatever!
The evening went famously. I dropped it like it was hot and lifted it like a feather. I had a fabulous time. Never even got tired. Stayed pretty much sober. FL and I have minimal interactions. Maybe, just maybe, I’d managed to do the damn near impossible. Turn FL into a frocaite. Our “relationship” ended well over 5 years ago. I felt enough time had elapsed where I could nestle him comfortably into the frociate box.
My girl K and I are standing having casual chatter with FL. Then with speed beyond comprehension, he did something that signaled we’d never be frociates. I was absolutely confused and took a step back. The conversation ended shortly there after. I don’t know if he had a date there and if he did I hope she didn’t see that little exchange. Because any woman who was paying attention could see that something wasn’t right.
K was undone. As an outsider looking in, all she could say was, “Da hell is wrong with him? It’s been a million years!” He was filed under ‘F’ for frociate–at least in my mind. What the hell was I really thinking though?? If men and women can’t be friends, what would make me think I could transform FL into a frociate? I’ll tell you why!!! I have been very successful in forcing men into the frociate box. I’m talking about having them locked in before they knew it! And eventually, they all accepted their position! But I am doubtful that I have the energy to keep tryna get anyone to ’sit quietly on the couch’ that is frociaton!
As a matter of fact, as of today, the frociate box is closed. I’m not pushing anyone kicking and screaming into it. Nor am I opening it up for those who’ll go willingly. It only takes one person to ruin it for everyone. I have more than enough friends and frociates. And maintaining those interactions is a lot of work. I’m not mad at FL. He gave me just the shock I needed to know that there are some tasks, which on paper seem quite do-able, but in reality are monumental. Monumental when I just don’t have the passion to make a serious attempt at success.
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