If I Had A Son...

I be having a lot of fun with my life.

I went to a bar one night. From time to time, I'll just go to a random karaoke bar by myself, have a couple of drinks, sit back, and watch people sing. I'm unassuming as fuck. Usually, I'm wearing a jogging suit or sweat pants and a hoodie. Jordan's, of course, are on my feet. Because I feel that is the apprporiate attire for a middle aged, middle class Black dude these days. Officially, on my "Unc" shit. Then after a while, I'll put a song in. And get up, and sing my heart out. What? Y'all didn't know that I was the fucking songbird of my generation!?!?! Okay, maybe not. But all them days in church growing up had to teach you something other than the Ten Commandments and why you don't touch the Communion table without gloves on. All my Pentecostal folks know what I'm talking about. I'll be damned if walk out the church and get struck by lightning or burst into flames.

So, I'm chillin before my song comes on. And a dude comes up to me and he's slangin' copies of his book in the bar. He was like, "Aye man, you wanna buy my book?" Black dude. Little bit older than me. He wrote a book about his life. About how he was in prison, and got his life together. Inspirational, and all that. Seriously, I was happy for the nigga that he didn't die in prison, and he was smart enough to tell his story. So he was like...

"Aye bro, you wanna buy my book. It's $25 bucks..."

And I said, "Yeah, my guy. I'll buy your book if you buy mine."

This nigga had the most puzzled look on his face. Like I just told him the real reason how Michael Jackson created kids with blonde hair and blue eyes. (Yo, if you know, tell me! Inquiring minds want to know!)

"You wrote a book?" He asked. Like he was the only nigga in Iowa who would write a book. Okay, as I typed that sentence, I can understand why he was confused. "Nigga" "Iowa", "Wrote a book" aren't exactly word combinations that you hear everyday. But, nevertheless, fam bought my book. Showed him the link on Amazon and he ordered it right there and then. And as he hit "Buy Now" on the book I realized two things:

1. This nigga is selling his book for $25 bucks cash in bars. He probably keeping all the money from his book sales. Amazon gives me exaclty $3.24 every time someone buys my $10 book. I'm seriously getting HO-ED.

2. I miss this writing shit.

So, I'm back with some random thoughts from my head. Hope ya'll didn't miss me too much.

I absolutely love being a Girl Dad. I got two that sprung from my loins. And I got a bonus one who made me realize that you don't have to spring them from your loins for them to be yours. She mine too. Got ALL of their names tatted on me. Ayanna, Amanyi, and Reni's Dad. Ain't no question. They mine. And I'm theirs. I sure hope they take care of me when I'm old. If not, at least give me a room in their house where I can hit on their girl friends, and say random inapproriate shit because ain't that the purpose of being an old guy?

But sometimes, I wonder what it would be like to have a son.

Why? Because this Girl Dad shit is STRESSFUL AF!!! I fucked around and had cute daughters. All of them are pretty. I was seriously hoping for some late bloomers. You know, the ones who are ugly af during high school, especially college. And then once they graduate college, BAM, they end up blossoming. Yeah, none of that shit happpened. I worry about what ya'll sons be plotting on when they see my daughters. Don't get me wrong. My daughters are savages. I'm pretty sure that no dude can put shit past them. All they would say is, "Nigga, I've seen my Daddy do that shit before. Nope nigga, I ain't going." Aye, kids learn. They smart, pretty, and they will cut your son. With words, and sharp objects. Y'all been warned.

But damn, with a son, I don't necessarily have to be all diplomatic and shit. Nigga fuck up, chest up to me, I'll do him like my Dad did me. Imma hit that nigga in his chest. You ever try to talk shit with your chest caved in? Let me tell you from experience, the shit is hard. Melvin Peeples showed me one time that I couldn't talk with my chest caved in. Little Jamaal Jr. (or Jamaal the Remix as I would call him) would know like I knew. We don't do all shit here, sir.

Now, let me pause for a second. This is ABSOLUTELY NOT an invitation to someone who is ovulating at the moment to come over and play Let's Make A Baby. I'm 47. What I look like rubbing my Baby Mommas belly saying, "Aye nigga, I probably won't be around for the whole life ride, but Imma give you a good 20 maybe 30 years?" Nah no thanks. Plus in this economy, I just can't afford daycare. Baby formula? Hell no. I would have to work my real job, ref sports, AND sell crack in order to pay for that day care bill. So keep your ovulating self ma'am, over there.

But shit would be amazing though. Like we could actually watch sports and they would care about it. My daughters don't give two shits about sports. I could have "the talk" with him and not feel awkard. Like literally, two chapters of my book "The Hair Monster" and that story I wrote about buying pads wouldn't exist. And I know ya'll found of that shit funny. But to me, those were stressful moments in my life. None of that. We talking about what not to say to the police, how you get your money up, and stand on your own two feet. I wouldn't care if my son was Homosexual. But I would be God Damned if my son was a Hobosexual. Some of ya'll laid up right now with a Hobosexual. If you are, don't tell anyone. But roll over and look at that nigga and think to yourself, "...nah not him." Because aye, the best lies are the ones you tell to yourself.

However, the most important thing I would tell him would be about girls. Like, some dudes I know are proud that their sons are playas. They be having different girls, etc etc. My oldest daughter once dated a dude who I promise had a Dad was just like that. And they were both bums. Fuck em.

Nah, I would say, "Son, let me tell you that ain't shit out here in these streets. Find a girl you love. And when I say Love, I mean she's the woman who when you get done fighting the whole world, you can lay your head in her lap and she makes it all better. Someone who is crazy, but crazy in a way you can deal with. Not put sugar in your gas tank crazy, someone who won't play about how she feels about you. But at the same time, won't put up with your bullshit. You have to be afraid to lose her, because you know that she find someone else next week. And someone, who you're not ashamed to grow old with. Make mistakes with. And someone who can make your house into a home."

My Dad shared none of this with me. He showed me. He loved my Mother in a way that I can't express. And I would definitely pass those lessons down to my son, if I had one.

So, I love being a Girl Dad. Hell I probably couldn't make a boy if I tried. I had a friend named "Dirty" some years ago. He passed last year, and I miss that nigga a lot. One time, some chick he was fuckin with tried to say her little son was hers. He looked up, put his beer down, put his cigarette out, and looked her in the eye in and said...

"Aye gurl, I got six daughters. I don't make BOYS, I make GIRLS. Now get the fuck out my face!"

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