TOMORROW IS VALENTINE’S DAY, but wunna see this thing called love? I could live to be as old as Methuselah, but I don’t think I would ever get it understand.
Now I know to each his own and you really can’t tell nobody who to love, cause as the old people does say, “every bolt of cloth got a owner”. But I does see some women, especially some young girls, with some fellas talking ’bout them in love, and describing the fellas as them darling, them boo, them hubby and all kinda sweet names, and when you see or smell the fellas you does wanta know if something wrong with the women heads or if their noses don’t work.
I does ask myself, how as a woman you could be in love with a man who constantly at war with soap and water and who don’t like to bathe? You understand me? How you does talk ’bout being in love with a man and knowing that them got pigs that smell sweeter than your boo?
And when you see some o’ these young ladies, them is some pretty young girls, from decent homes and in some cases well educated, and they walking through town holding hands with a fella who look like a beast and smell like the economy; pants falling off, dirty underwear exposed, teeth want power hosing and breath want putting in a garbage bag and dumping at sea. But these girls in love.
I telling you this love thing does got me scratching my head. And the thing is nuff o’ these fellas don’t be working anywhere, they ain’t thinking ’bout getting a job, learning a trade nor nothing so. But these girls in love with them, so much in love they does make baby for these men and all.
And when you really check out things, half o’ these fellas known to the courts, they always wanted by the police. If they ain’t shooting at somebody then somebody shooting at them. So a romantic evening out for these girls is ducking from gunshots and coming back home alive.
If you doubt me, go down by the courts any day that the police got a group of fellas charged for choke and robbing some hard-working person, and you gine see the amount o’ young girls and baby mothers in the courtyard waiting to see their boo.
Seriously, I does ask myself what kinda lyrics these fellas does pelt down to pull in these girls, ’cause them got some nice men out there with more lyrics than Shakespeare and can’t find a woman at all. Them got nice job, them ain’t gay nor nothing so but still can’t get a woman.
A nice fella would try talking to one of these girls and she don’t want to see or hear him, but before you know it, one of these musty fellas turn up, whisper something in her ears and by next week she pregnant and talking ’bout she in love.
This same girl would hear this fella curse her mother poisonous because the mother don’t like him for her, he would call her a dog, beat her from time to time but she still in love with him.
But if you think that bad, some o’ these same musty fellas does got two and three other women on the side. Imagine, men who using soap and water can’t get a woman and them got three for themself, and all three of them would fight for him too, ’cause you know why? Them in love.
Happy Valentine’s Day! See ya.
Email madderic@hotmail.com. Twitter @madderic
