I know it’s been a while since we’ve actually spoken. I think the last communication between us, was via your Myspace page when you referred to me as a “place holder” in your life. You sent me an email, but then of course you prevented me from responding to it because you blocked me. Not a big deal of course to me, because at that point, I was prepared to go on with my life. Words never hurt me.

So now, several months later, for some reason I can’t help to feel that you’re stalking my thoughts. Of course the internet is free for anyone to roam, but usually when people say they don’t want to have anything to do with someone any more, it means all types of communication are severed. Why would you care to know what’s going on in my life? Oh, but of course, I’m sure you got an eye full from my post from a few days ago, that was subsequently deleted. So by now, you know that my relationship ended. Did that put a smile on your face to read that? You also know that I’ve had issues with my health recently. I bet you shook your head and said, “That’s what you get”, because usually that’s how asses respond to other people’s misfortune.

Yesterday, I wrote that I wasn’t going to include TMI in my posts. When people who personally know me read that, they were a little shocked, because it’s not like I put too much of myself out there like that anyways. So, no, I’m not going to censor my thoughts or my writing just because you or anyone else who I may know personally will read it.

Friends. Family. Foe.

It’s really not that serious. So keep on reading, hopefully you’ll subscribe to it. Just add your email address to the feedburner box to the right of your screen. I’m not sure if you attempted to do that yesterday when you clicked it, or if that was what you were trying to do when you emailed my post, but I figure I’d help you out. Also, if there’s any other recent information you may want to just google me (btw, google the name ‘funkyblackchick’ instead of ‘funky black chick’ like you did before- you’ll yield better results) or sign up for my Twitter updates since you managed to read those as well!

Yours truly,

[fung'ke] [blak] [chik]™

Of course, after I let it slip, the first thing he asked me was what do I write about? My only reply I could think of was, “Stuff”. He asked me what exactly did I mean by stuff, because that answer was quite vague. I told him it’s usually whatever is on my mind at the time, anything from people I may encounter, work, things I may have saw on the news or read in the newspaper. His next question was if I wrote about men.

(insert awkward silence)

Now, I could have answered this question a number of ways. Truthfully, by telling him that occasionally I may write about people I’ve come across in general, not just men. Or, I could have told him, “Of course not, I don’t divulge information about my personal life”. Well, I guess depending on the way you look at it, both of those answers are true.

As predicted, he asked if I wrote about him (he’s an egotistical man) and I told him no and that I doubt I would. He asked what was the last thing I wrote about, and I told him it was about a man’s (f?ng’k?) feet. At this point, I’m wishing he would change the subject because I could already tell where this was going.

“Well you wrote about a man’s feet, Who was this man? And you couldn’t write about me?”

(as you can tell he’s quite predictable and likes to have his ego stroked)

Truth be told, I let him know that I was actually going to write about him in regards to the fact that I think men who own cats are ’suspect’ to me. Needless to say, he didn’t like that answer or sense my use of sarcasm.

(Actually, I do find men who own cat(s) quite weird)

Once again I tried to switch the subject, but before I could, he asked the one question I hate answering when it comes to my blog and friends who don’t know about it.

“Well what’s the name of this blog of yours? I want to read it”.

S L O W your roll, buddy.

Many have asked, even more haven’t received an answer. I love the anonymity of hiding behind the moniker, (f?ng’k?) [blak] [chik], especially when it comes to not divulging it to other people that may possibly become a victim of a ‘drive by blog post’.

I didn’t tell him how to find my blog and he became somewhat offended.

“Oh, I’m not special enough?”, he asks.

“Is that a rhetorical question, especially since I haven’t known you that long?”

(insert dial tone)

Yeah, that ass hung up on me. All because I wouldn’t tell him what the name of my blog was. If he knew me well enough he’d know that I’m somewhat a private person, even down to the fact that when he asked me what my last name was, I gave him the wrong one, well not exactly wrong, but my mother’s maiden name.

So at this point, he’d be happy to know that he has now been immortalized in a blog, but I guess he’ll never find out since he decided to rudely hang up on me. That sealed the deal on him not ever hearing from me again. Boy do I hate egotistical men who need constant stroking.