He moved away a couple years ago. Lawd knows I miss him.
And he know he was some serious eye candy. That was a fine fine man.
I love a nice goatee on a man. Yes sir!
My problem is that I like hershey bar dark men. He was high yellow, one of them mixed brothers. This was the topic of many a conversation.
"Boy you know you a pretty man," I'd say as i lay stretched out on the couch staring at him.
"You can't call a man pretty. I am handsome."
"Yes I can. You pretty. Got that ol' pretty skin, and pretty hair."
I use to say, in my best Grandma Klump voice, "Boy if you were hershey bar dark, around my age, and didn't have all them kids, and made as much money as me? I would have go head on and do you! Yes!"
So he know I wasn't studin' him at all. He might as well have been a female.
LadyTee use to say "Tiny is the type you can be around in your bra and panties, and he don't care!"
"I know that's right!" I would holler.
He was the type of man you could have looooong conversations with about your period. He'll suggest types of pain medication and let you wail and cry and be mean and surly and PMSing. And he didn't care. He knew it was your time of the month, you see.
He would come over, just a talking, and trying to eat and drink up everything in the fridge. We had to establish a rule that he couldn't drink up my good expensive organic juice or bottled water. He had to drink the cheap nasty Faygos I kept stored in the cabinet in the laundry room.
Yeah, he was that type of guy. And he was the most talkative communicating fellow I've ever known. So much so that I would tell his roommate Hen-Dog, "Your boy don't get a lot of atttention from women. His women must not talk to him or something, because he love to talk. With his ol' pretty self."
The crackheads thought he was my man.
Snake use to get REAL mad. "I can't stand that n**** Tiny. He always blocking."
As if he had have a chance with me. Humph.
I got caught one time in a convo with the crackheads when someone walked by and I commented "I don't like no high yella man!"
They all stared. And I had to clean it up quick. "Oh but Tiny, he is alright. He different."
Tiny told me one day "The whole neighborhood, they all think we together. Does that bother you?"
"Nope!" was my quick response. "If they think we together, they think you live here. And that means they won't kick my door in and rob me. So if I have to grab your butt when they come by, then I will."
Yeah. I would just have to go ahead on and act the part. LOL
One thing about Tiny is that he had the best hair. It was all wavy and he would comb it back in a ponytail. The lesbian down the street use to call him that. "Here come Ponytail with his fine self. He know he fine."
*LadyLee looking confused as she says all this*
But when it wasn't properly combed, uh... it was a HAWT mess.
That's what you call hair in it's full natural state. Yes, that is natural hair. Some of you natural hair chickens would KILL for big big hair like that!
And there was always the question, "Girl, you got a nice laundry sink. You gonna wash my hair for me?"
"Hell nawl," was always my quick response. "You got a better chance of Oscar-Tyrone washing and conditioning that bush than me."
I didn't have much hair. Wasn't hard to wash. I couldn't fathom washing THAT much hair.
And my hair soon became a topic. Especially after Tiny would cut my baby brother Milk and Cookie's hair, especially when he was in town on a military break.
Tiny and I had a long convo about my hair, and how it would thin in spots and do it's own thing, and if he could cut it. So my hair became his special project. He could cut it and hide my thinning areas and everything... all for free!
Well, it would cost me a plate of food. That joker know he could eat. Goodness.
The whole scenario cracked him up! "You're a chemist and I'm an engineer and we're sitting in the kitchen cutting hair!"
I didn't find this funny. Seems that he didn't think it was the most sanitary thing, with him being an environmental engineer.
This went on for a couple years. But...
I remember him coming over one day and saying "I'm moving!"
And me wailing hard!
"I know you're sad, Lee," he said.
"I am," I said. I hugged him, did my damsel in distress thing.
"Who's gonna cut my hair!!!!!!" I wailed.
Oh I was upset.
Anyway, when he left it was hard to find someone who could cut my hair. Yes, I bought my own set of clippers and he showed me what I needed to do, but it wasn't the same as him doing it. I didn't really care for the barber shops. When I explained to them what I needed them to do, they would look at me crazy. I would just let them cut it the best way they coould and go on about my business.
I FINALLY found someone this month. June 9th to be exact.
I found a barber shop near my job. By accident, really. About 6 months ago. I had made a turn on a road that I usually go down as a short cut to my natural foods grocery store. I had decided that I didn't want to go, and turned into the parking lot of a small storefront containing a laundromat, a barber shop and a occupational therapy office.
It was a tight area with only one way in and one way out, and I remember turning around in a spot right in front of the barber shop. I remember thinking "This is where I'll be getting my hair cut."
I blew it off. I hated walking into barber shops. Hated it. So I didn't check it out.
So, 6 months went by. Two months ago, I decided to cut the perm out of my hair and let my hair do whatever it needed to do for the summer. When I do that, with it not growing at a decent rate, I really have to keep it brushed and greased just to keep the beebee shots at a low occurence. Drove me batty. And I know it drove my cubicle mate CowgirlCre just as batty.
Swish swish swish was the constant sound of my boar brush against my head.
"You brushing your hair girl?" CowgirlCre hollers.
"Yeah man!" I'd say while staring in the mirror she bought me for my side of the cube. "My head is itching and these naps are tripping."
"Brush your hair, girl!" Cowgirl Cre would yell. "Brush it!"
Swish, swish swish!
I got a little tired of this. And decided to run up in that barber shop.
Now when I first got there, around 7, right after work, I ran into CowgirlCre's boss. He was standing in front of the laundromat, yelling about how he needed a jump for his dead car battery. I didn't know who he was because dude is usually well dressed at work, but he looked like a refugee at the moment. I don't fool with him, because just like all other management he treat his people like crap, and he has a thick asian accent, i.e., I never know what he is saying. So we spent a couple of minutes trying to jump his car, which didn't work.
*lee promptly closing car hood and backing into a space as far away from Boss Cre as I could*
So I finally walked into the shop. Actually it's a beauty shop on one side and a barber shop on another.
And there was one woman in the beauty side, getting her hair permed.
I was face to face with her. I wanted to holler "Ooooooooh! You putting that creamy crack in your hair! You are horrible! You are no good! You don't like yourself! Saaaaaaame on ya! Shame!"
I would've gotten my behind whooped that day. AND RIGHTFULLY SO.
The jokester in me shut up. I looked out the window. I hoped that no natural hair chickens passed by. That woulda been a problem. I was tired, but I woulda helped that chick whoop some azz that night. Just on general principle.
Anyway, one of the barbers, a tall Snoop Dog looking fellow, hair thick with braids, asked if he could help me. I said I needed my hair cut. We talked for a couple of minutes. I know he was looking at my hair thinking "What the world?" But I told him what I neeeded him to do. I wanted my hair cut low like the man in the next chair. I was pointing hard at the man. They didn't think I was talking about the man in the chair. They all thought I was talking about the barber. And he looked like Isaac Hayes: bald with a beard.
"You don't want your hair cut like mine, baby," he said, laughing hard.
"I know that's right!" I said.
I finally told him "Look! I need these naps out my head! Each and every one! Lawd! Help me. Please!
We agreed on a haircut, and he commenced to cutting my hair.
I listened to their barber shop banter. It was tamer than usual, I guess because I was there, and the lady getting her perm done. All I know, they were very excited about going down to some club called Foxy's, as soon as my head was done. And the mucis was loud and booming. It had to be Nas' birthday or something, because they were playing all his songs. The only one I recognized was the shooting song.
They played the raw version... complete with the gun shots. O_o. It was enough to make me nervous, but I actually went to sleep. Imagine that.
He awaken me some time later. And he'd cut my hair.
Exactly the way Tiny use to cut it.
I wanted to bust out crying. But with the hard music playing, I couldn't be a punk. Couldn't go out like that. LadyLee is not a punk!
Never paid 20 bucks for a haircut. But I paid it that day.
"Make sure you come back again!"
"I sure will," I yelled over the music.
I know that's right. The braided up Snoop Dog brother will most definitely see me again.
I never thought the quest for haircuts would be such a worry for me. I took it for granted for so long when Tiny would come through the door, smiling hard, his clippers in hand. I had gotten so accustomed to the good free haircuts, and having to then pay for ones I didn't like. Now I've found someone who can do it right.
And I can't be mad about that.
It's been about 21 days since that cut. My hair grows slow, but I can tell there is a little growth. So I figure I would have to get a haircut every two months or so. I want it to grow enough so that I can perm it. I just like for my hair to lay down, and with it as short as it is now, there would be virtually NO maintenance, and that's what I like.
But we will see by summer's end. Seems like it's much more work to take care of it now than before, and that's cool. Can't get mad about that.
It's just hair, the least thing I have to worry about.
I know that's right.