First Comes Love...? (Original Post 8/29/2011)

                   

Last night was a HUGE night for one Young, Black, and Married couple. Well at least ½ of the union is young (sorry Jigga Man). At the MTV VMAs, the normally very hush hush Beyoncé Knowles Carter announced that she was pregnant. On the “black” carpet she very subtly noted that she had a surprise and then pulled her very loose-fitting dress back to reveal a baby bump. With this announcement social networking sites went ablaze. The opinions ranged from elation to hateration (terrible word, I know, but it rhymes).

While most were happy for them, the announcement did start a debate that was likely to leave some hurt feelings. Soon tweets and statuses started flowing regarding their ability to do it the “right way.” In today’s society the “right way” has been skewed, but it sounded like people were referring to the traditional way to start a family: A courtship, followed by marriage, followed by kids. Obviously this pattern of doing things has lost its luster in recent years, but is it wrong to celebrate it?

I have A LOT of respect for single mothers who made the difficult decision to have a child regardless of circumstance. Truth be told and quiet as kept, just because you don’t see a baby hanging on the hip doesn’t mean there wasn’t one to speak of in a married couple’s past. But I digress.

The truth is, regardless of whether we want to admit it or not, when we were young we sang…“First comes love…then comes marriage…then comes {insert name here} with a baby carriage.” It’s not new, and for most I’m sure it was the plan, but things change and adjustments are made. It just so happens that for the Carters, at least from what we’ve seen, they followed this childhood limerick.

At the beginning of last week a lot of people were saddened by the news that Will & Jada might be divorcing. While that news was sad indeed, it brought up the intricacies of their relationship. Is it open? Are they happy? Etc. At the end of the day, I have yet to find a person who knows either of these couples personally, but black love is beautiful and should be celebrated.

Be clear, I am a BEYONCÉ GROUPIE!! So you would think her child would be calling me Auntie Rachel. But I believe I was happier for their ministry than I was their baby news. At the end of the day, marriage is a ministry and anytime that union is looked on with admiration and positivity, that’s a “SCORE ONE” for the married couples. Not everyone is as lucky as me to have real life examples of strong marriages. I have only been exposed to ONE divorce in my family. My grandparents have been together for 58 years, my parents have been together for 33 years, and all but one of my 7 aunts and uncles have been married for decades. Have all of these marriages been perfect…NO, but their resilience shows the importance of sticking it out in marriage.

Do we know Jay and Bey personally? No. But without them really saying a word, we’ve watched their relationship play out in front of the cameras. I’m happy for them, and hope that their ministry continues to blossom and give hope to those out there looking for a love to believe in.

Beyoncé performed my favorite song from the "4" album "Love on Top" which was truly fitting. At the end of the video you will see the love in Jay's eyes. You can't help but be happy for the two.

Get More: 2011 VMA, Music, Beyoncé

How Low Can You Go (Original Post 10/14/2010)

“She can go lower than I ever really thought she could, face down, ass up!” Now I’m sure Luda was referring to some chick he just got on for the first time in the club. Me, I’m referring to my wife! Damn straight, we gets it in! Just last weekend me and the wife went out for my man’s 26^th birthday celebration and tore it up. It’s a beautiful thing when you’re still able to hit the club and get an old-fashioned bump-and-grind session (we call ‘em twerks) in the middle of the dance floor. For those that know me, I don’t mess around when I get in the club. In the past, I’ve been known to take my shirt off, bounce from one end of the club to the other, and occasionally (if I’m feeling freaky), I might just toss a full drink in the air and make it rain in that bitch. 

I’m from the filthy, nasty, dirty south (Athens, GA to be exact), and I rep it to the fullest. I swag surf with the best of em’ (given ample time to stretch beforehand), and I love to get it in with my people. The best part about what you’ve just heard is that Rachel’s seen me do it all, and she loves me for it (or loves me in spite of – she usually cusses me out for it). More so than that, she’ll get in the club and get it in WITH me. Me and the wife grind on each other in the club like we just met, while you’re over there with your mouth wide open, wishing your girl would throw it back on you like she used to. What’s crazy about our relationship is that it’s been like this ever since we’ve known each other. She’s never tried to change who I was in the club, (minus the fact that now she’s the only woman I dance with), and that’s alright with me, as long as she keeps droppin’ it like it’s hot. There was, however, this one time when my phenomenal dance moves almost cost me my life…..

About a month ago, my little sister was in town for the weekend, and she and I went out with my brother to the club. Rachel was hanging with some of her home girls at the time, but was going to meet us later that night. We decided to head for the strip in Adams Morgan and hit a bar or two before sliding through one of those “clubs” on the strip later that night. Fast-forward, we hit some spot that was damn near empty when we arrived, except for “her”. Now if you know me, you know I like “thick” women (see Rachel for an exact replica). And if you also know me, you know I’m a pretty slim dude (this will all make sense shortly, I promise). Now I’m in the spot actin’ a damn fool with my fam, dancin’ to white music and joking around, when all of a sudden, “she” comes up. Now even though I’m married, it’s still flattering when you notice a woman noticing you. Not in this case! After a brief exchange about it being her birthday and her wanting me (and me refusing) to stop dancin’ like these white folks, next thing I know, she’s grindin’ up on me out of nowhere! Brief intermission while I break it down. This chick is like my height (6’2’’), and has to weigh a solid 300 (let the liquor tell it), on top of the fact that she’s treating me like I’m the chick, and she’s the overbearing, overaggressive dude in the situation. After a couple harmless “booty bumps” with this mammoth, I slide to the left and try to keep it pushin’. 

So me and the fam are kickin’ it for a solid five minutes before the beast returns, and when she does, it’s not pretty. I’m minding my own business, when I feel a death grip around my wrist. Next thing I know, this “thing” twirls me around like a Ballerina Barbie and “forces” me to dance with her. I two-step with this chick for no more than 30 seconds, and break away to reunite with my loving family who left me in the trenches taking grenades. Not two minutes later, man-hands grabs me by the waist (from behind) and starts humpin’ me like I’m some second rate whore (I’m so ashamed). At this point I’ve had about all I can take. My eyes are starting to water, my knees are getting weak, and my bottom lip starts quivering. I’m thinking, “this is it, she’s gonna club me and take me back to her cave and have her way with me, and I’ll never see Rachel ever again”. I’m also thinking, “what kind of fucked up family watches you get raped by King Kong, and doesn’t at least call the police?! – SHOOT THIS BITCH!” Just as I’m about to give up hope, my brother swoops in, karate chops her in the neck, and we make a mad dash for the exit (really, he just dances in between us and we speed walk to the exit, but feel my pain).

By now you’ve all forgotten that this flashback started with me dancing with the one I love, getting nasty on the dance floor. All this to say, if you won’t do it for your man, another woman will….rape the shit out of your husband if you leave him alone in the club! But seriously, don’t lose that passion. Don’t forget that we prefer to gawk and lust over you versus any female, any day. Even before Rachel and I left the crib that night, we made sure we were feeling what the other person had on. Most people probably didn’t notice because it was dark, but Rachel’s shirt was see-through. Sexy, not slutty. She goes shopping for things that she’s comfortable wearing, but that I’ll like as well. After 8 years of being together, some people think it’s okay to wear a cloak, saggy jeans (Rachel knows I like them jeans to hug that sexy frame), and some lame hair do. 

When Rachel steps on the scene, she dresses the way I like because I’m the only one she’s trying to impress, and visa versa. We dance like we do because we’re still into each other, and that’s how we roll. She backs that thing up on me like she did the first time we danced. Don’t worry about what we got going on over here; all you need to worry about is how low you can go….

Role Playing (Original Post 6/14/2011)

One day I was checking out this commercial with Rachel, looking at one of those dolls that pee in a diaper. My first reaction, “Who in the hell would want to have a doll that does some nasty shit like that?!” The most obvious answer is, of course, little girls do. Just like little girls want pissy dolls, they want to play crazy games like house, ask for Barbie dolls so they can make Barbie kiss Ken, and live in one of those Barbie dream houses. Quite frankly, most girls can’t wait for the moment where they can put on high heels and wear makeup so they can be grown like mommy.

As little boys, one of the first “toys” we played with was our penis (it wasn’t just me, don’t front).

Moving on, we played with G.I. Joes, remote control cars, video games, etc. Always in the mix were sports, which tied directly into competition. Point being, ever since we were young, males had one agenda, and females had another. While for the most part, females were preparing for womanhood and marriage with their Easy Bake Ovens; we were playing games, literally. Sure, I cut the grass, did yard work and helped my dad around the crib with handy work that needed to be done, but I was “late” in terms of my preparation for a meaningful relationship or marriage (let me tell it I was a man at 15).

Not that I blame rap, movies, the people I grew up around, or those that raised me, but they did have an affect on how I approached and viewed women. Yes, I was always respectful, but I thought the name of the game was to get as many women as possible before settling down. Just like with sports, the object of the game was to win, and that meant getting with as many chicks as possible. Nobody ever told me at an early age to find a nice young lady, settle down and start a family (nobody ever told me to be a whore either). It was only by the grace of God that I was able to acquire just enough sense to not screw things up with Rachel early in the game, and even then I almost came up on the losing end because of my immature ways. Women, on the other hand, knew what they wanted fresh out of the gate (speaking in generalities – loose chicks excluded).

What’s my point? Blame your pimpish behavior on everyone and everything else?? Hell NO!! Point is, somewhere along the way, either sooner or later, you learned better. There’s no badge of honor for sleeping with the most chicks, or having a squad of females on your team. Looks cool for a while, but it gets old real fast. Funny how we all like playing the game until we get caught, then all of a sudden we want to act right because we might lose “the one”. Funny how we envy those in “good” relationships, but we won’t go out and get one of our own. Funny how we all want a strong black woman until she turns the muscle against us, then all of a sudden “the bitch done lost her mind,” as if your retarded ass didn’t contribute to the drama in the first place. You’re only fooling yourself if you think that’s the case. “We don’t believe you, you need more people.”

As men, we could follow Pac and take the easy way out. “It ain’t my fault. Don’t blame me, blame my mama, a nigga’s nature.” But actually, my mom was the reason I calmed down some of my “niggerish” tendencies. If it weren’t for people like my mama in my life to give it to me straight, I wouldn’t be married, and I most certainly wouldn’t be this far along in life. No, as boys we didn’t grow up fantasizing about a wife and kids, but that doesn’t exclude us from stepping up and handling business as men. Be the man God meant for you to be. Play your part.

“When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things.” – 1 Corinthians 13:11

Sacrifices MUST be MADE (Original Post 6/6/11)

Right now I am preparing for the Georgia Bar Exam and I’m living in a happily married person’s hell. I am living in the space that a happy couple never wants to live in. Now, for the 3^rd time in our relationship, I have had to utter the two words that are the enemy to every relationship…LONG DISTANCE. For the next 10 weeks, my husband of almost two years is CLEAR across the country. This isn’t your ordinary long distance, this is the “I won’t see you for 12 weeks because we got other stuff to do” type of distance. There will be no kissing, hugging, loving, hand-holding, staring at you while you sleep…NOTHING! But sacrifices had to be made, RIGHT?!

In March, we told you that we were in our last days of grad school and we were just tired. When law school and business school were over we had just ONE week to enjoy each other’s company before we would part ways. Enjoy we did, but you’ve never seen time move this fast.

When I begrudgingly decided to take the bar exam, I knew that in order to pass, I was going to have to take extreme measures. I really didn’t do all that great in law school because it wasn’t my passion. Therefore, I would have to learn many of the things I needed for the Bar in my bar exam class. Law school and being an attorney has been, and will always be, a plan B for me. But I will NOT get embarrassed on Facebook in October when those results come out. Therefore, I made the decision to be away from Julius during this time.

Quite frankly he’s a distraction. No one understands the rigors of Bar Study EXCEPT the people who have either taken, or will take the bar. My 12-hour study days will do nothing but annoy him, and he will constantly want to go out to eat, go to the movies, or do anything to make me believe that studying this hard can’t be healthy. Actually, for these 12 weeks, it’s exactly what’s necessary for me to become an Esquire.

But this decision wasn’t just about me. I had to have an amazing husband who respected me and my goals enough to make the sacrifice too. He could have told me to bring my ass to LA and work it out. Instead, he said for 12 weeks he would leave me alone, but “YOU WILL PASS THE BAR.” So the challenge is on. But as the overachiever that I am, I’m taking this challenge to a whole new level, so that I can take my relationship to a new level. Who can make a perfect relationship better you ask? I CAN!

I’ve decided to take this summer (and it’s ridiculous structure) and work on some of my weaknesses in our relationship. I wake up early and workout 6 days a week. I’m on a strict diet, and I hope to lose 10-15 lbs. Not to mention I study my ass off! Lastly, I’m not the neatest person…shocking right??! So I’m trying to put my clothes away when I take them off, make my bed every morning, wash my dishes after I use them, and actually be an adult for once in my 26 years of existence.

The point is, the time apart sucks (see generally, The Tale of Two Cities right here on YBM), but I would suck as a wife if I left these 12 weeks the same way that I came. Julius is making a tremendous sacrifice by allowing me the time to study for this test. Therefore, I will be sexier, cleaner, and you will have to address me as Attorney Johnson in about 4 months. Mark my words…this is just the beginning of an amazing transformation.

A House Divided

Original post 1/23/2011

Eight years ago when Julius and I started dating, we drew a proverbial line in the sand when it came to football. He was a Falcons fan, and I was a DIE HARD Steelers fan. We were young in our relationship; so being on two different sides of the fence didn’t mean much. However, as the years went on, arguments definitely began to ensue. Trivial right?! No, trivial my ass! Julius began making the ultimate mistake of rooting AGAINST the Steelers. Well maybe not rooting against them, but he would cheer when the other team had a good play. His excuse: “I mean, I just like good football!” Well, to any Steelers fan, that is complete bullshit. Not only do you just root for the Black and Yellow, but you are just as equally pissed at any good play the other team achieves.

After a solid 6 years of arguing, we made the decision that we would only root against each other’s team when the Falcons and the Steelers were playing each other. This worked fine for the first year or so…and then it happened...

If you remember, the first regular season game this season, the Falcons and the Steelers played each other. This was the first time since we had been together that we found ourselves on opposite sides of the field. Please understand that shyt got REAL in the Johnson household. Of course the Steelers won, and everything went back to normal. But when we got to the post season Julius kept finding himself constantly putting down the Steelers. “Ben ain’t nothing.” “The defense can’t handle this team and that team.” “Y’all better hope y’all don’t play the Patriots in the playoffs.” YADA YADA YADA. I mean he actually had a leg to stand on since the Falcons were 13-3.

So here we are in the Post-Season. Both teams had a bye the first round. One team has 6 Super Bowl Rings, one team has 0. One team has been to the AFC Championship 8 times, one has been to the NFC Championship 1 time. It should be clear what was going to happen, but “Julius NAYSAYER Johnson” had hope that the Falcons would do something worth talking about. Bottom line, they didn’t! They lost in their first game 48-21. While the Steelers are on their way to their THIRD Super Bowl since Julius and I have been together.

It should be clear that our kids would grow up being Steelers fans. I mean what kid wouldn’t want to cheer on a winning team? Yet, my loving husband still fights me on this topic. I don’t think anyone would judge him if he decided to become a Steelers fan. I wouldn’t. Instead, he’s holding his ground, and I will continue to live in a house divided.

While he’s sulking just like every other wack team in the NFL, I’m looking for every fan whose team has won 6 Super Bowls to STAND UP!

Ooops…that would only be the members of the Steelers Nation. #BlackandYellow