Diary of a Closet Freak

Now, I ain’t saying I’m a golddigga, but I ain’t messing with no broke nigga. That is to say. I ain’t splitting the tab. I ain’t co-signing. I don’t even want you to make change for me if I need some quarters. We will never have a joint bank account. As a matter of a fact, if I even suspect we are banking with the same institution, I’m closing my account and putting my money under the mattress. If you guess one digit of my pincode, I am ordering a new card. That’s alright honey- I don’t want to see your credit report. Why? Because I don’t care who and what you owe. Your problems ain’t my problems. Sorry your account got closed because you owe the bank $475 in NSF fees. Keep paying your bills with money orders when and if you feel like it. Lucky for you in America, people don’t go to jail over debts. If they did you might get the death penalty.

Don’t worry, I for one, will keep paying my bills on time before the late fee kicks in. You know what- don’t even pay for my dinner. I got that. But you will be washing dishes before I chip in a dime for your appetizer, entree, drinks, and dessert. Oops- got a flat tire? Well “MARTA is smartah” until you can afford a new one. Nope you can’t charge my zero balance visa and pay me in installments. Don’t even ask cuz- the answer is no. You can not hold 20 bucks to go play the lottery and win the jackpot so you can pay me back. Luck is not on your side loser. Hungry? Go down to the soup kitchen. Sick and need money for meds? Better write a will, baby. You ain’t gonna make it. Yeah nigga. That IS the way it is. and that’s the way it is gonna be if you want to be with closetfreak. I could’ve said those words. But I didn’t. Hindsight is a mutha.

I am not selfish, it’s just that I was raised by a single mom due to a deadbeat dad who would buy tickets for a concert before he would buy diapers. That alone made me know I could never depend on a man for anything. Being poor in New York means eating free lunch at PS 189 during the summers, standing in line to pick up government “cereal” that comes in a plain white box with the bold black letters on it, and always being cold in winter while walking to the subway because my coat wasn’t warm enough, yet knowing I couldn’t complain because it was the very best my mother could buy for me. These experiences made me strong, focused and hungry for success. They provided me with motivation to become financially secure as an adult. And I’m going to keep it that way. It can’t be too much to want someone who is willing to bear a fair share. It doesn’t even have to be the proverbial ‘half’ of the load. And I don’t actually care how much he’s making today, but I gotta know where he’s headed. One more thing, does he understand that a credit score of 100 is NOT a good thing?

I do take some blame. My approach was probably wrong. It seems like the girls who say ‘no gucci- no coochie’- well they get nice gifts and expensive trips, but sistahs who plan for the future and stick to a budget, well you don’t even get a birthday card and he will only go on the cruise if you pay his way. Likewise, girls who say ‘no cash- no ass’ inevitably get the men who scramble to pay for their hairdos and manicures. On the other hand, if a woman works two jobs and cuts coupons she gets a nigga who wants her to buy him a set of clippers, plus pay for his nappy shit to get trimmed by the barber. Golddiggers- they get prada. Working girls- we get nada…I could go on and on, but I won’t.

All I have to say is that if for any reason at all you suspect that Erykah Badu may have been talking about you in her insightful song…then It IS time for you to call Tyrone. I am not, nor will I ever be, the closetfreak of your dreams. My currency is staying in the walk-in with me, along with my lingerie. I know the saying says “I can do bad by myself.” Don’t bet on that. I’m about to be balling.

Get down girl, go head get down…