I can't believe that it's been six weeks since I met Drummer Boy (DB). It seems like it's been years instead of weeks. I guess that's because of all of the things I've learned about him in six weeks time. Let's just say that it's been an interesting journey to say the least.
I met DB at an Open Mic Night at a nightclub in the Hampton Roads area. I had a rare Thursday night off as my daughter was with her father. This particular place was recommended to me by a colleague who did part time security there. He told me that it was a good place and I was delighted that he was right.
I thoroughly enjoyed the live music performed by the house band and the showcase of rappers, poets and singers in the area.
Not one to be out late, I decided to leave around 10:30pm. I stopped outside of the front door to converse with my colleague. While we were out there, DB came out to get some air. I recognized him as the drummer for the house band. I remember that he had his earplugs casually draped around his neck. He was very friendly and immediately joined in the conversation.
Looking back I definitely can say that I found him funny. He was a little younger than me as he was about to turn 27 and I'm 33. He proceeded to crack jokes and flirted mercilessly with me. He hinted around that he would like to get to know me better so I acquiesced by giving him my phone number.
We exchanged text messages initially and quickly graduated to phone calls. In that first weekend of communication, I learned far more about him than I ever cared to know. In hindsight, I'm glad that he was so forthcoming because I quickly relegated him to the position of potential friend. I knew that he and I could not progress past the friendship stage because of well...him.
We made plans for that Sunday to see "Red Tails" at a local movie theater. He had someone drop him off because he didn't have a car. Now, let me add this disclaimer. In a lot of urban areas (i.e. New York City), a car is not necessary. However, in the Hampton Roads area, not having a car is indeed the kiss of death. Especially for a freelancing musician. We enjoyed the movie as well as each other's company. I figured that we were on our way to becoming good friends at least.
He had also informed me that he still lived at home. That didn't surprise me as I knew of his musical aspirations and the fact that he was still enrolled at the local community college. However, what did surprise me was the rest of the occupants of the house.
In addition to his mother, his 36 year old Friend with Benefits (FWB)/somewhat ex-girlfriend and her four children lived in the house. He assured me that his relationship with her was over and that she was slated to move out soon. I was not persuaded. He gave me a sob story about how she had fallen on hard times and how he had convinced his mother to allow her and her children to move into the house. He told me that they slept in separate bedrooms and that his mother had strictly forbade sexual activity between them. I knew right then and there that he was tappin that every chance he got. He denied it but I found out later that he had sex with her days after our fateful meeting.
His story began to flow like spilled oil in the Gulf of Mexico. It just kept getting bigger and bigger. I became so immersed that I wondered if I would drown in the pool of drama.
It turns out that he had unprotected sex with numerous women. He exposed himself and countless others to various disease and possibly a death sentence. He spoke of getting "burnt" as one would speak of being burned by a hot pot on a stove. He was so careless and cavalier with his story that I often wondered if the tale was true.
When he told me that he would have fathered five children had it not been for three abortions and the miscarriage of a set of twins, I looked at him as if he were an apparition. I was stunned. Although he admitted that he had made mistakes, it was almost as if was talking about take a test or writing a paper versus getting women pregnant and contracting a venereal disease.
He was a study in contradictions. He wanted to be a famous drummer but he didn't practice. He bought $200 worth of drumsticks but only had two steady low paying gigs and no day job. He wanted to go to Berklee School of Music but didn't sightread, learn theory or have a music teacher.
About a month after I met him, he celebrated his birthday. He informed me that his FWB wanted to take him to the movies for his birthday. I questioned the wisdom of that decision. I told him that if he indeed wanted to make a clean break (which he told me he did), he should keep his distance. Well, he went anyway. He told me that he wanted to continue to be the FWB's friend because she needed someone in her corner. She didn't have anyone and it was important to him to be there for him. Okay. Fine.
I guess he had to appease her because she was providing financial support to him. She gave him "an allowance" every two weeks, when she got paid. Cue R. Kelly, "I'm a gigolo spending lots of dough...". Perhaps she was paying him for services rendered. I don't know. The tragic thing about this arrangement is that it possibly took away funds from FWB that could have been used for securing a lease or a mortgage.
I lost more respect for him (it was already minimal) when he told me that he threatened to call Child Protective Services (CPS) if the children didn't stop arguing. He told them that he would tell CPS that FWB was not providing an adequate home for them and that they would be separated and placed into foster care. I was done. Here he was threatening the very woman that not a week prior he had pledged to support no matter what! Not to mention the fact that he was maintaining an active physical relationship with her despite claiming that she was too unstable for a relationship with him.
DB is unfortunately not the exception to the rule in this country. He is representative of what Black men have become. As Black women we should take a large part of the blame as we have ruined our Black men. There is the adage that Black women raise their daughters and love their sons.
In some instances Black women have unconsciously made their sons into their boyfriends or husbands, thus creating a modern Oedipus complex. I'm not talking in the sexual sense but in the emotional and social sense. For too long, Black families have been headed by Black women. With the absence of Black men, women have turned their sons into surrogates. Black male children are not raised with the same rules as Black girl children. They are allowed to take liberties that their female counterparts are not allowed anywhere near.
Black men as a whole have not been strong for a couple of generations now. However, the ramifications are just being felt in the Black community.
Some say that if a Black male child grows up in a two parent family, they will be well adjusted and grow up to be strong men. Well, DB disproves that theory. Although he grew up in a two parent, middle class family, his father was a gambler and drank heavily. So his mother became the dominant parent and clearly doted on her son. Why else would she allow his lover and her four children to move into her home?
If we want to reverse this trend we have to stop catering to and enabling our Black men. This must start in the cradle. We have to understand that what we do to our boys has far reaching implications. If we don't do something now, we will continue to have generations of useless men.
As for me, I have decided to get off of the roller coaster that is DB's life. At this juncture, I don't even think that we can be distant associates. It saddens me to watch the behavior of yet another sorry ass Black man.
I realize that my daughter will bring home Connor or Ramon or a man from some other race. Because at the rate we are going, there won't be a Black man qualified enough to be a good mate to her.
But it doesn't have to be this way. As Black women we have to stand up and stop coddling these men. Only then will we be able to start to reap what we have lost over the years.
No comments:
Post a Comment