So…Y’all Sexing For Free?

How is there a man lying in bed next to you but an empty wallet in your purse?


How are you allowing a man to spill his seed in you yet when he leaves, you text family/friends to keep your electricity on?


Woman, why do you have 200 likes on social media but $2.00 in Chase?


“I ain’t the one to play the fool/ Can’t make no money in bed/ So ain’t no future fuckin’ you”

Let me repeat that. AIN’T NO FUTURE FUCKING YOU.

No man should be in your bed, hell, in your inbox, if he can’t or won’t pay bills.Your grandmother, your mother, a favorite aunt…someone let you leave home without imparting a very valuable lesson-

– a WET PUSSY and a DRY POCKETBOOK should not coexist. 

Let me be clear – I’m not dating a broke man.

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I’m as self-sufficient as the day is long. I have letters behind my name and commas in my accounts-suh. I’m not looking for anyone else’s gold as I have mined my own. My bills are paid, and my possessions are mine. I don’t need help. Regardless, no man is crossing the threshold of my bedroom if he can’t afford the rent. No man is sweating out my bundles if he can’t purchase a new set in the morning.

“I ain’t the bitch to love ya/ Can’t do a damn thang for you/ if ya ain’t about money/ 9 times outta 10, I’ll ignore you”

Are you ruining your Givenchy mascara for a man who can’t afford it?

Are you calling someone “Bae” who has never spent a dime on you?

Are you fucking someone…LOL…who walked right past the Disconnect Notice on your counter?

*in my prescription commercial voice* You may be in danger of being a stupid ass female. Call your doctor immediately if your stupidity worsens or if you start having thoughts of starting a family.

I assume if you are reading this, you are over 30, and that’s the audience I’m addressing. At our age, we’re mentally closer to retirement than college. Establishments should be appreciating, not just being founded. We should be jetsetting, not Netflix and Chilling.

What I’m saying is…we’re too old to be fucking potential.

I never got into the whole Build-A-Bear craze from a decade or so ago. I don’t frequent those restaurants where you have to cook your own food. Dafuq? I have to pay AND cook? Why did I have to leave my house then? I can be home braless and in my slipper socks. Maybe I’m just missing that entrepreneurial spirit. Nonetheless, I don’t care how lonely my bedroom may become, I ain’t signing up to Build-A-Ninja. I’m not looking for potential; I need proven results. 

I work in investment. I could sign up a million dollar deal tomorrow and not see a return on that investment for a year or more. Because of the length of time required, there are stringent requirements a deal must meet before it’s allowed through the door of my firm. Not only must the deal meet specific standards, but the person bringing that deal has to meet even stricter credit and net worth requirements. Hell, my credit score has to be evaluated before my signature can hold any weight. It also has to be tested under different scenarios. If X happens, how will the deal react? What will the deal look like 5 years later? Does it have the elements now to still be profitable in Year 10? Yet even when every checkbox is checked and analyses are approved with flying colors, deals still fall apart. Because NOTHING is a guarantee. That’s the risk you take. There may have been a better investment out there. It may walk in the door tomorrow, but you have already removed your monies from the market. 

So before you go removing your time, your vajayjay, from the market, vet that man. Does he even meet the prerequisites to know your name? Social media has bastardized and ruined teachings that generations have passed on to us, and we’re so ready to prove how we’re not like other women out there. “I don’t need my man to bring something to my table. I got us.” *cue eyeroll* I have my own table and set it myself; however, that motherfucker better have a table of its own before he dares to eye mine.

Stop fucking men who can’t offer you shit but a hard dick.  Most men, nowadays, will fuck you for months and not offer you a title. He requires you to do wifey shit, prove you’re main girl worthy, before he will consider committing to exclusivity. He already knows you will agree to this nonsense. And he knows if you choose not to, another woman will. So your dumbass follows through. Invest your time and pussy in this ninja, and if you discover another woman (and there certainly are multiple) also attempting to win his “coveted title”, you increase your investment. Try to prove to this ninja how you’re better than the next.

What the fuck has he proven to you?

Why are we courting men? Chasing behind their asses like they’re Amazon. He ain’t Amazon. YOU ARE.


When Amazon announced that it was buying Whole Foods, the market value of their grocery competitors decreased by $22 BILLION! The price of Whole Foods increased simply because of who chose to invest in it!

I don’t know about y’all, but I consider myself the WHO, not the IT. Don’t let the market determine your value. Your value should determine the market. When one HAS something to bring to the table, when one KNOWS what she brings to the table, she does not worry about filling the emptiness around that table. She focuses on getting a bigger table. Amazon could have purchased any of those bottom grocery stores, negatively impacted its capital and public perception, but Amazon waited on Whole Foods. They knew how valuable their name and money were so they waited for a worthy investment to reveal itself. 

As long as that broke ninja is fucking you, depreciating the price of your vajayjay…you see that chart up there? You’re SuperValu.

Today’s Soundtrack: Tupac – Run Tha Streetz

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