Girls think I’m conceited cuz I know I’m attractive. Don’t worry bout what I think… Why don’t you ask him? Get yourself together. Don’t hate (oh no don’t do it). Jealousy’s the ugliest trait (I never do it). 
– Keri Hilson “Pretty Girl Rock”
    I left you a present. I hope you saw the EllaThought business card I placed on the driver’s side window of (what I hope was) your pretty little Range. I regretted a couple of things at different moments. First, I regretted simply putting it there. “Is this bullying?” I asked as I wrote it. I don’t want you to go all out and harm herself on account of me, I mean… you never know. But when the No’s and co-signs came my way & I decided, yes, I should say something to you while at the same time getting myself a bit of pubilicty. I wanted you to view my page & (even if you never admit it) you’ll read my blog again. So card it was. Next up: What should I write?
    I had to let you know. I had to address the situation. Without being too much. Without saying too much. Without being to rude but at the same time allowing you the space to understand that I am not to be fucked with (with). It’s a pride thing. Same time, though, I wanted you to know that I have nothing against you. I’m not trying to fight you. I’m not a little kid. Thing is,  I’ve never wronged you and that you need to reevaluate yourself and take time to think before you let names slip out your mouth. I forget what i wrote on the first card, but I know it was smart. I’m sure it was mean(er). I mean, In the rawest of terms, I’m an educated bitch. I ripped it up and threw it in the trash. You’re lucky I gave a fuck. I handled my part. The other person you had the audacity to mention will handle hers. 
        “You’d be so pretty if you weren’t so sorry,” it read on the front. As I think about it, I wish it had said “so petty,” to give me a little bit of alliteration  –I think it hurts more to be told off poetically — and I think it would have described you better. To be completely honest, I never thought you were much. Not impressive. You were cute. But I hated your hair. Plain & simple. You had a whole new look at this years fashion show. Personally, I thought the look was so good I had to lean over & tell Ashley. “She looks good,” I said, time & time again. “Her hair looks good.” When I saw you after the show I tried to give you my congratulations and stored compliments. We had never really spoken before so the conversation was only going to go so far, so once I handed off my compliment, I kept it movin’. Come to find out, you likes this boy. Unfortunately, you feel I’m a threat. Which I am. But I’m not. Simply because I don’t want him. Well…I mean…”You get it I had it. Got mad at it & don’t want it no more.” 
      What upset me most wasn’t you calling me “Hoe-Ass”  (which is how I signed the back of my note, which I’m sure you noticed.. “Hoe Ass [Ella] XOXO”. I was more upset about how you claimed I was fake-nice when I gave you that compliment. Unfortunately, I meant it. You looked better. A lot better.  If you get a chance to read this, which I hope you do, I want you to know that I pity you. I pity you only because I know things. & the only reason I know this is because boys not only show txts, they also share stories, pictures, videos… whatever medium you would like to slut-out in, they’ll gladly share it. The words “pictures” and “videos” have been thrown around. I’ve seen none, but I’ve been assured that they exist. You left evidence, doll. You fucked up. So when you ascribe me my “Hoe-Ass” epithet, please be aware that there is little (if anything) to back up your claim. I’ve sent a picture. (Yea. One. To the same man who was persistent in his effort to drape his jacket over this hoe’s shoulders while you were no where to be found –not out where we were & obviously not on his mind. Don’t worry, I took it off. I don’t share men.) When men relive their moments with me, they have to use their imaginations. I require concentration. My men pay attention to me. Unfortunately, yours do too. & Therein lies the problem: Me. 
       Why is it that whenever a girl stops getting attention from her guy, she places the blame anywhere she can? It’s never your fault? It’s never that he simply doesn’t like you enough? It’s never anything you did, is it? Sometimes, he’s simply not that into you. I know you’ve seen the movie. Just because a man sleeps with you, it doesn’t mean he’s giving you his heart. He’s giving you his stroke. To the brave ones, they’ll give 30seconds video time fit to be a commercial for him & his friends. You’ve just advertised yourself. You are now on the market. You might as well come with the Staples “Easy” button. Women are so quick to pull each other down. So quick to say, “Well what about so-and-so?” Why don’t you just worry about yourself? What she did was “project” herself onto me. Look. Projection. I was once a Psych major & she’s fittin into these boxes. 
       On one hand, it may have been immature. & I felt the urge to have someone drive me back so I could take it down before she saw. But I heard she took off from social networking for lent (which is, in my opinion one of the lamest sacrifices people make. No offense, I mean it in general cuz a lot of folk do it). We’re not friends, so I don’t have her number. & I wasn’t giving up time with my friends to have a pointless conversation with her while I was on vacay, therefore this is the conversation:  You’re a pretty girl. I didn’t know you. But I didn’t hate you. From what I heard, when the angry mob was calling you a hoe, it was my friends who wiped the drunken tears from your eyes and attempted to help you save face. Where you’re fucking up is with giving these men— boys, rather –more attention than they deserve. If he’s not paying you the attention you want, he doesn’t like you. There is no excuse. It’s not his friends’ faults nor some other girl’s fault. He doesn’t like you enough. We always try to come up with reasons why a guy is doing us dirty like he is… and & from what I’ve heard, it’s because you allowed too many people to “like” you before. Your business is on the street, baby girl. & that is why you’re sorry. You don’t see it. You don’t see how dirty they’re doing you. & Its not just you so don’t be too hard one yourself. You’re a type. You’re a particular girl. You just happen to the one of the girls these boys ran through & they have video to prove it. You’re still a person. & someone needs to address you all one by one. With the respect you deserve… while there is any left. The first move I suggest you make: No more videos, doll.
[X] Swag ON
[   ] Swag OFF

    Now that you’ve got this new hair-doo and you’re looking good –which I won’t take back because I do think you’re a beautiful girl — you need to move on to some niggas who don’t know you. You need to stop messing with these boys because they have no respect for you. None. I’m the most honest person you’ll ever meet. Trust me. I mean that. You know why they like me? Because I don’t play games. I keep my mouth shut. I’ve opened my legs but close them much more. You can call me a hoe if you’d like… but the boys you’re letting in, sit and wait and hope on me. You should take notes, hun. I’m not the prettiest girl in the world, but they respect me. They want me nonetheless. Flaws & all.  They come when I call. I’d say “ask about me” but it’s quite obvious you already have. You could be a bad bitch if you wanted to. But it’s your actions that have made you ugly. & Your words have made you petty. (See, it fit better.) No one has it out for you, so no need to stress. You can de-friend and unfollow me at your leisure, if you were engaged in either of those, for it is of no concern to me. But I write this blog for girls like you. Because you’re not a bad kid. You’ve just made some publicly hoe-licious moves. Then again, “I’ve never met a bitch who didn’t need a little guidance.” 
       I’m a big person. Like… not like… a big fuckin deal (although I’m that, too),  but I’ve grown. I love you all the same, pre and post the “hoe-ass” comment, simply because I know you love me. In this life, you have haters & you have fans. Haters become fans & fans become haters. Regardless of what you want to call yourself, you’re in the audience. Watching. I mean, though,… if the boy you want, wants me… maybe you should pull out a pen & pad. I think it makes sense.  No? As for my friend… she doesn’t want to approach you as much as she feels she has to. She’s not going to let you play her out. I have faith she’ll handle the situation in the most mature fashion. Still, Don’t try your luck. I suggest you simply listen to what she has to say because somewhere in there, you’ll realize there was a potential friend. Hopefully there still is one, if you act accordingly.  The lesson you should learn here is to never, ever say someone’s name out of your mouth –never mind text it, because boys like yours are hungry for drama and attention. You should stop giving it to them. Attention & vagina. 
         oh. & I don’t want him. There’s more than one reason that I don’t want him, but I’ll give you the most important one: Because men are like shoes to me.  I like all kinds. But if a pair gets played out, I’m not going to wear it. I’ll keep it in the closet until I’m sure I don’t need it. [oh, & my closet is sick, I’m sure you can imagine.] The worst, though, are light colored shoes. They can’t handle much, physically. They show wear and tear too easily. With that said, Nude was in for a bit, but I prefer mine dark. 
Consider him my donation to you: The Needy. You can keep’em. Merry Christmas. Happy Birthday. 
[   ] Swag ON
[X] Swag OFF 

   I wish you the best. I hope you make better moves. I hope you realize that the opening between your legs isn’t the correct path to your heart. & There are women around you who aren’t out to get you. And if only you’d take your concentration off men and place it on yourself, you’d have an easier time seeing that. Sometimes, it’s more than the sex. A man needs to like you as well. While they do enjoy sexual satisfaction, a man wants a woman that he can respect. We all make mistakes. Most men are mistakes in (an incredibly sexy) human form. Allow them to know you. To enjoy you. Give people stories other than how they walked into a house & saw you laid up or exiting this room and that. You’re a whole person and you have more to offer than just your body. You know that. I know you know that. But you’re not acting like it. If you don’t act like it, they’re not going to treat  you like it. Men treat you how you allow them to. You’re being treated the way they treat you for a reason. I’m sure you know that. But that doesn’t have to define you. You’ve got to switch it up before it’s too late. Hopefully, it’s not too late.
      I didn’t write this to be malicious, I wrote this to tell you the truth since there’s simply so little of it in this world. Usually, when I post, I tweet and share the hell out of a link. But I’m going to let this one ride. I’m going to show you more respect than you deserve. FYI: I no longer hold onto grudges but I feel you owe me an apology. & My friend as well. Because we both attempted to be kind to you. The reason women of color can’t get along is because we’re so clouded by the men around us. We give them the most importance, when pure friendship is much more beneficial on the road to self-actualization.  
[X] Swag ON
[   ] Swag OFF

Oh… & It’s not my place to address insults that weren’t directed to me but… if you think you have a body on you… you are quite mistaken little girl. The only part of that plank-ass body these boys are checkin for is your vagina and maybe that mouth. Beleeeee dat. 
In sum…You’re getting off light. You’re lucky I’m a Lady. But please, watch your fuckin mouth.
I’ma leave the swag on for you. 

& wrap it up. 




Read: Round 2: Unfinished Business.