She says she loves me

She says she loves me, 
She says she loves me, so she clings to me even when I want to be left alone
But she’s beautiful
Like sometimes when I have things on my mind she’s the perfect person to listen
And she only gives advice, she says when I give her a cue.
She says she loves me, like when I wake up in the morning she’s standing at the edge of the bed with a plate of food,
Wanting to feed me,
She says she needs me,
She says she loves me,
Or like when I’m stepping out of the shower,
She’s standing there with a towel,
wanting to, wanting to dry me off
She says, she says she loves me
So instead of admitting that she has made another mistake,
She says, she says she loves me,
And I don’t know about love...

~ Lamont Carey

A Pimp named Rachel. [SHORT STORY]

Ima pimp by blood not re-la-tion..


True… True… You right Jigga man! That’s exactly what she is; shoot her whole family.

Each family member had their own form of pimp tendencies:

  • Her dad was a disgraceful pimp, couldn’t keep the ladies at bay.
  • Her mom is not a pimp, she’s just a lovely Christian woman who’s got it like that; 50 year old with a 24 year old spending them dollas!
  • Her brother was a pimp because he was always in drama with a crew of girls: they all wanted a piece but pimpin ain’t easy.
  • Her sister was the responsible pimp, she started off a Don but gave up the pimp life for a partner and kids.

So yeah, pimpin ain’t easy but it’s in the blood. Now let’s get into our story: A Pimp named Rachel.

Or should I say a finesser name Rachel? After all, none of them pimped anyone out they just enjoy the easy moments that happen in life sometimes. Still cares and worries in the world but they accepted a lot more. Let’s get back to the story.

She was always made fun of because of things she didn’t have, where she lived, how her body looked, or who she knew; mentally draining. It got to her and as she sat on the floor of her room with the knife resting on her wrist, tears running down her face: she sighed and closed her eyes. A calm fell on her in that moment, then she heard her mom call her down for dinner…. So close yet so unsure. What was that calm just now? Whatever it was it saved her: whether it was the calm from knowing She’ll soon be free of all the bullshit or a gentle touch from the heavens telling her to hold on, It was needed. From that day forward everything changed.

She kept her pain quiet and focused only on proving one point: she was THEE fucking shit! So what did she do? She stopped caring. No, she didn’t gain confidence, she just decided that day that the opinions of other is something useless to her and from herein out she wouldn’t let them EVER get her back to that place. In came the attitude and the hard exterior shell, if you managed to get close be grateful. She stopped taking the blows and started dealing them; anyone who truly knows her knows she will cuss you out STINK! Rarely Apologizing.

He loved it. He liked aggressive women and he couldn’t get enough of the smell or taste. Of what you may ask? Use your imagination. He started as her mentor but ended up falling in love. He introduced her to the life: thugs, hoes, money, drugs, fights, stealing, and most importantly lying. Dearest mother thought she was safe at a friends house meanwhile she travelling on road with men and their weapons. Couldn’t get enough of the hood ones in that moment .

She entered the “movement” after one crazy ass night. She followed them on another road trip and they picked up a guy she’s never seen before. He introduced himself as stacks and he lived up to his name: always had stacks. What she would learn about stacks later is that he was the deadliest one in the group. The thing about hitting the road with men is that you always gain something by tagging along, whether it be: food, drinks, money, jokes, or life lessons you always gain something. That night she gained insight. Insight into a world that was beyond what she knew the world was capable of; so after seeing this guy gun butt a man in his head for his stack of money, she knew this life wasn’t for her. She always knew that she wouldn’t mind a few free things in her life, so instead of taking everything she learned that night she decided to take the most important part: the freebies.

No brute force but she was grabbing every free chance she could get. It went from guys simply paying for her meals to guys paying her bills; a true entrepreneur. During this time she added a new touch to her style by acquiring a second phone. One was for the important people and one was for the men. Anyone who she didn’t care for, who wasn’t as motivated into taking things further, or who she just met would receive the number of her flip phone. The IPhone was for those of importance. Now the trick was to always have both phones with you but the one you show to everyone depends on the situation. For example: out with your friends? iPhone. Out with a guy? Flip phone unless you like him. Going clubbing? Both but only use the iPhone for quick pictures and give the people who try to holla the flip phone number. This was how she started to live the “fast life.” She was out every weekend until all hours of the morning and she ALWAYS came back with numbers.

[Enter the Pimp]

Unfortunately for her, loved didn’t come easy. She tried for many years to find something real with a man but things were always either one-sided or strictly sexual; she had enough. Instead she decides to do whatever the hell she wants and with whomever she wants, so she turned into a savage. Talking to ten males at time, going on dinners, to the movies, go-karting, or simply on long drives with at least 6 of them while the other 4 simply took care of her Uber’s, her food, her weed, her drinks, or her hotel fees. Life was blissfully wonderful. For once she was the one who got to manipulate and use men instead of them constantly doing that to her. Finally she got to feel like the one in charge. No more settling and waiting for them to take her seriously, she stopped taking them seriously unless their pockets were fat. She started to show up on the block with different foreign cars. She started to stay out late and come home early in the morning after the night out on the town, lying to friends and family about her whereabouts. She was so comfortable that she wasn’t worried about her next meal, or how she was going to pay for her birthday, or if she had enough to cover this bill: it was all taking care of by her little helpers. Vain men who thought that they were running game when she was the creator. They thought they were winning because she did sometimes show them some appreciation for their hospitality but after all that time and money spent never seen the bedroom. Looking back they’d probably call her names and bash her character but she will just laugh. It’s too late to be ashamed of your actions, it’s already been done. You men fell into the grasp of a true pimp and didn’t realize you were getting pimped. Sad. You can’t play the creator of the game, that’s why she was always one step ahead of them. Backed out when the time was right.

She was a Pimp named Rachel and she is no one to mess with. Just when you think you the one who’s winning she shows you that you were always in last place. The power is in the women, that’s what men forgot to acknowledge and that is always their downfall. They dap up each other because they got the girl but couldn’t bare to hear the words of the encounter. Do you know most women are not reaching orgasms with you men? HA! Sad. How many of us have faked it? HA! Sad. She was a Pimp named Rachel and only she could end your contract with her. She’s seen gangsters turn into softies, she’s read the beggin and apologetic messages, she’s watched as they’ve asked for forgiveness by sending her money: she doesn’t need the clout of others. The type to receive seven new numbers in one night and have two already spending money but the third day. She grew tired of the life though, she finally wanted to try love again. Only things as usually didn’t go the way she wanted. Things as usual turned out to be either one-sided or strictly sexual. Going through the hurt and frustration again has made her rethink her life. She put down the pimp cane because she didn’t want to be an asshole anymore, she wanted to truly show someone special all the love she had inside, but y’all making her regret it. If she had stuck to her ways this pandemic wouldn’t be so hard on her. If she had stuck to her ways, she’d most likely be still a virgin. If she had stuck to her ways, she would have been the one playing rather than getting played. Instead she decided to give people the benefit of the doubt and give them a chance to step up. Boy did she fuck up….

Watch out for her, word around town is: she might be back!

last nights drunken thoughts

I’d like to start this post off by saying that I have found a new artist who sings for me: Mariah the scientist.

So I’m intoxicated and in my feelings. Don’t you just want to kill the memories you had of dumb partners? Wash away the dirt these people left on your body and burn the images that are left in your subconscious? I do. Why did I open my heart and give my all to someone who turned around and carelessly gave that up? Why do I gotta be the only one who has the desire to put their all into a relationship regardless of how rocky the road may get? I’m not talking about infidelity, that shit is disgusting. I’m talking about true hardship that will test your loyalty to the relationship. I’ve been promoting a lot of positivity lately but today the music is taking my elsewhere. Is it a crime that I want revenge? I want to show these disrespect hoe ass men how they made me feel. Useless, undesirable, unwanted, a toy, baggage, or simply something to pass the time. Fuck You. I know wish all the fuck ups in my life all the best, but I’d be lying if I didn’t want them to feel how I felt when they did my dirty. Don’t you just want to shove a taste of their own medicine down their throats? Maybe it’s the alcohol but I’m feeling deadly. Not literally, metaphorically.

People who have heard me kind of sing (never fully singing to my full capacity) have said that I have a great voice: like good enough to try out on various competitions and go far. I’m just too shy but there is one sing that I’m singing with all my heart: Reminders. The song I’m speaking of is full of metaphors, it captures the “behind the scenes” feeling of someone who has to go through moving forward after going through some bullshit with their partner or ex-partner. That’s my thought at least. Why I’ve gotten particularly attached to this song? Well because she’s speaking my life into existence.

every candlelight dinner, date-night liquor, late-night visitor,

reminds me of a killer….


You know those situations where everything reminds you of the person you are trying to move on from? Reminds me of a killer, a killer of my heart. Bittersweet defeat: something you didn’t want to happen but happened anyway. Memories of our trauma is the thing that truly holds us back, because we are just waiting for another fuck up to happen. Accident-prone, clumsy, filled with bad luck, or jinxed is what we call ourselves. Why can’t our love life just work?

Honestly? Fuck all the partners who lost a good catch like us. Fuck all the people who couldn’t figure out what their priorities were, the people who decided it was okay to use and abuse people, and the people who took our love for granted. I am still on the peace vibe, I wish all the people who messed up in my life all the best but I also wish justice on you. Mistreating people because you aren’t entuned with your star player is not cool nor acceptable. There are people out there who are trying to love you and lead you down the right path, for you to waste that opportunity is simply idiotic. So if you know someone is still hung up about a bitter break up: do not bash them, uplift them. Some people’s healing takes longer than others. You have every right to be hurt about someone misusing your time and effort for nonsense. You have every right to be sad because you seen a future with someone who just wanted a quick fix. Let NO ONE take your emotions away from you, the importance is the figure out a way to learn from your experience.

Below is the link to the song that made me make this post. Leave a like, comment or share if you feel me. Thank you Mariah for capturing a real bitch feelings.


Alright so let’s set aside your regular reading for something a little new today….

Our story involves men. HOW FUN! It’s a normal day like any other, work is finished and the dogs are barking…. (my feet). Another thing is making some noise: my gut. I head into the nearest mall for the classic mall junk food and before I even reach the door I am being honked at. HEY!! I’m walking here… have some got damn patience! This is when I noticed a white male waving me down, he proceeds to pull up beside me as I am STILL walking towards the door and asked me if he could talk to me. Okay Becca…. Be nice.

“What can I do for you?”

“Damn girl, you are looking good: like you’ve been in and out the gym in those tights,” he says.

“Actually, I make it my mission to stay out the gym… This is me coming from work,” I replied.

He proceeds to ask the obvious follow up question: where do I work? Then he asked me if I could pull my mask down so he could get a good look at my face. THANK YOU COVID FOR MAKING MEN QUESTION MY BEAUTY EVEN MORE NOW!! Nonetheless, I obliged and removed my face mask to which he comments, “thick and pretty.” *roll eye* He makes me laugh with a few jokes then in a hurry and hangry I slipped him the number of my second phone and continued to walk to the mall.

Now before I continue with this guy, let’s break into another story with another guy at the same MOMENT!

As I am talking to the white guy, a friend I’ve known since I was younger happens to be at the mall and watches me interact with this guy. As I’m walking away after talking with Jimmy(not his name), I noticed him, gave him a hug and asked him how he was doing. He ended following me into the mall and we talked the whole time I was grabbing food about Jimmy. Finally as we were walking back outside to my car, the convo changed. He started talking about me and him: how he always wanted me, he wish I had his kid, he wants to eat the kitty, and how he’s always been hoping that we would be smash. DF! How the conversation turn a whole 180 like that? I laughed and laughed and laughed some more. He continues to describe IN DETAIL his plans and how I’d have such an amazing time with him if we were together. Cutting the conversation short because of hunger, I slid him my second phone’s number and told him I’d talk to him soon. SKKKRRRRRRRRTTTTTT! OUTTIE! I left so damn quick, NONE of that! Now back to Jimmy. We talked the next day to basically get the basics of each other: age, background, employment, relationship status, and 401k’s (nah i’m playing). Now… I know you’re wondering where this story is going. This is a classic ghosting story: THE MAN HAS 3 KIDS! SKKKKKKKRRRRRRRRTTTTT! Now I’m not shallow or anything but I’m older now to whereas I want a family of my own. I’m not going back and forth with the mother’s of your children and I’m not playing step-mom to more than one child. Those are the rules; so that’s why I haven’t spoken to him in over a week. He wasn’t even a bad looking white guy that’s the crazy thing, I just wasn’t having it.

Footnote: we still tackle the “second phone” bit this week. The reason I always like to have two phones needs a post of it’s own.