T.O.N.Y. Don’t Call No More

Another casualty of call waiting, dangling between the lines of “answer” or “ignore.” Once, “Rockin’ That Shit Like,” and now settling for a memory of that faithful night, it was all triggered by a sway and a hip swing. It felt good at first, didn’t it? Knocked you out like a Colt 45, but left you hungover and barely breathing. Exhausted by your alibi of trying to convince your conscience that he’ll definitely remember you. Yet, the other night has finally met the dawn of a new day. That one night stand, has abandoned your virtue and left you kneeling towards actuality. T.O.N.Y. don’t call no more, because T.O.N.Y. has already forgotten you.

Relax, relate, release. You needed to expel some of that tension and release your dead energy. I understand. There’s nothing wrong with making the earth move, you just need to prepare yourself for the flip side of a negative aftershock. The thorns in your spine are urging you to forget that sexual residue. Victimized by your thighs, yet eclipsed by the impossibility; is it possible to move past “the other night,” or should you really expect a stranger to call you?

So you were bumping Usher before you went out and found yourself in search of that Love In This Club. I get it folks. Some of us have quietly subscribed to that therapeutic sexual melody. Yet, depending upon your personality, you need to see if you can deal with the reality, of the good, the bad and the ugly, of settling in for one night only.

Just remember one thing before you come in contact with T.O.N.Y.: If you can’t trust a stranger to hold your wallet after payday, then how can you give them full access to the most priceless part of your body? Think about it.