Can't Nobody

Trying to let you know what it's all about
I know you wanna leave
So many little games silly people play
Don't act foolishly
I'm so real, so soft to touch
My love, my kiss so sweet, glorious
The look on your face
Anyone can see
No one does it like me... -- Kelly Rowland

I've been known to say that to many a man.

Not one of them has retorted, Uh...I don't want her to do it like you. Stupid.

Cuz that would be arrogance-kryptonite.

I be on dat Kryptonite
Straight up on dat Kryptonite
I be on dat, straight up on dat
I be on dat Kryptonite -- Big Boi

Whatever happened to Solé? I liked her.



Married Ginuwine, and relegated herself to wifedom in P.G. County.

Curious.

Don't look so sad
I know it's over
But life goes on
And this world
Keeps on turning, yeah
Let's just be glad
We have this time
To spend together
There is need to watch the bridges
That are burning... -- Al Green

I really need for people to get better at goodbye.

Stop picking the scab off of the cut and just let it heal and fade away. IT will fade away, but you gotta stop picking with it.

That means stop calling me and reminiscing on something that's not going to be.

You're with someone else, right? So...us talking about the good times. That shit ain't working for me.

It's too fresh right now. Just quit trying to figure out if I still care about you.

Yeah, I do. For whatever it's worth. But that wasn't enough to make us right.

Don't let them
Get the best
Of your heart
Leave the rest up to love
And you'll be taken care of... -- Rufus featuring Chaka Khan

I think shorty has a crush on me. Ain't he the sweetest?

Little tiny self. I'm not much on tiny men, but he's so cute. Every time he walks by, I want to beckon him to sit on my lap.

He called me "precious" this morning. Now if that wasn't just the cutest damn thing. I jive giggled.

My grown ass, blushing. I'm flattered.

Not intrigued though.

It's endearing.

I want you to know me better than I know me
Cuz baby I can see the future
You know we should be together
I'm not gonna play with you, so dont you play with me
Let's put this thing together baby
I'll leave these other girls alone... -- Bobby Valentino

If I had a year to spare though, I might have given him some play

I'm really into thoughtful people right now.

I'on care about things that I usually care about. I want somebody that's just gonna be into me. Like majoring in Nina. A student of my every move.

Yeah.

Too bad I'on have that kind of time.

Girl give me your number
Forget it, here go my number
Forget it, you don't need my number
Cuz we gonna get hot tonight... -- New Edition

When I used to be a clubhead, I never took numbers. Just gave mine out. With one directive.

Me: You can have my number, under one condition.
Him: What's that?
Me: Call tomorrow, or don't call at all.
Him: *bewildered look*
Me: *coy look*

Shit worked like clockwork. And I'm not just saying that because it's my gimmick. Shit REALLY worked.

I think they called out of curiousity. Or maybe it was the apprehension to finding out what would happen if they tried to call me a week later.

My intent was simple: I didn't want to have to remember a whole bunch of niggas names. Call me tomorrow, and let's get this weeding-out process cracking! If they didn't call, that was cool...his name went into the trashcan of my memory.

I met this one dude named Ryan at the club. He was little as fuck. (I did tell you that little men love me, right?)

But this Lilliputian was sexy as fuck. Sexy as he wanted to be, ya heard?

Could dance. Dressed nice. Smelled nice.

I'll never forget we were slow-draggin' to Prince's "Adore", and this fool kissed me dead in my mouth. Naw...he ain't put his tongue in my mouth.

But it wasn't for lack of trying.

I was gon' seriously consider fuckin' with him until I did something wack as hell.

I called him on his job, and I thought he was avoiding taking my call, so I left this hella "fatal" message on his answering machine. Yeah, yeah, I can admit the shit now...I wasn't really tryna sound psycho.

But that shit was jive psycho.

Naw, I'on remember what I exactly said, but it was some rambling, confusing tomfoolery and I got exactly what I deserved as a result of it.

I got some major silence.

Mu'fucka ain't never, ever, never call again.

Fuck that lazy-eyed muthafucka. And he had a sick child. Like chronically sick child.

I'on usually fuck with men with children. Why? Cuz I'on have any children, and um...I'm not dealing with yourn if I don't have any.

But in the RARE case that I do find an exceptional father, who is stepping up and handling his business where his child is concerned, and that shit isn't negatively interfering with what we got going on...then yeah. But that little muthafucka better damnsight be healthy.

I know...that's selfish, Nina!

But shit...somebody will love you with your little TB-ridden, asthmatic, club foot baby. Just not gon' be me.