Now normally I don't do this, but uh...

If I'm quoting R. Kelly, then it must be an important matter. Well not really, but I would like to dissect an annoying trend that has taken place in the comments section since February.  That month I made a post about the girl who has affected my perception of women and friendships with them for about 10 years when the first attack was launched.

"You should get counseling. Immediately."

I was already annoyed from the get because that's an insult to me. Always has been, always will be, don't care what anybody thinks about it. But I was able to ignore it.

Another deep post in April yielded another disrespectful comment:

"Way too depressing."

This post in May: "Go and get counseling!"

I noticed the trend in June and posted about it, but was met with derision. Same deal a month later. 

I disabled anonymous comments after that, but enabled them again because I always feel like somebody who doesn't have Blogger, Wordpress or anything of the sort still might want to leave a positive comment or add on to what I write about. And then we get to the previous post.

"You're sick. Please get help."

So that's at least six instances where someone has felt the need to add to the problem rather than be part of the solution. And thanks to that handy dandy blog tracker on the side, I've noticed that this yellow ball-less internet personality comes from Mt. Laurel, NJ and New York City by way of Ten95 or my friend T-Dot's page. And I know T-Dot is a stand up woman and she'd never say anything to me anonymously that she couldn't or wouldn't say to me directly. So to the clown in the Metro NY area who keeps leaving corny comments - get a life. While I never claimed to be the most perfect or right individual walking the planet, at least I am trying. Comments full of shade like the ones your throwing don't help. And yes I put a lot out there, but at the same time, I have a name and a picture attached to mine. What's your excuse?

Jekyll/Hyde Blues

I used to be such a sweet, sweet thing

Until they got a hold of me...

I opened doors for little old ladies,

I helped the blind to see...

Transitions rarely happen overnight. Good ones force you to be patient and hope that it thoroughly completes itself and at the right time. Bad ones usually are the ones that move the fastest, but you still have time to stop it if necessary. 

Needless to say I failed to stop my transition, to quote Spongebob Squarepants, "from good noodle to bad egg." Not as an overall detriment to society by any means, but my social graces are non-existent and the situation with women seem to get worse instead of better. 

I got no friends 'cause they read the papers

They can't be seen with me

And I'm gettin' real shot down

And I'm feelin' mean...

There was a time when the words used to describe me were "respectful," "polite," "well-mannered," "well-behaved" and probably the one word I hated to be describe as maybe even more than my weight, "sweet." I was over being sweet by the middle of my second year at Del State. I had learned in two semesters of living on campus that women weren't in the market for "sweet" guys.  There, I said it. The last time I classified myself as a nice guy, LeBron James didn't have his Hummer, there was no Iraq war and Jay's Second Blueprint banged all over campus. 

No more Mr. Nice Guy

No more Mr. Squeaky Clean

No more Mr. Nice Guy

They say he's sick, obscene...

I figured that in order to at least get some positive attention, I shouldn't ask a girl how she's doing, shouldn't show too much emotion (HA! That didn't work out very well) and I shouldn't try to be interested in them because they almost thrive on being ignored. Somewhere along the way when that didn't work out, bitterness set in, and I found myself dogging women every chance and place I had room to do so. Forget my desires and wants, my ability to even carry on a decent conversation with a woman is null and void.

But what's crazy is, when I think about when I was a young and impressionable sort, one who thought of women as all being queens and being better than me and that I'd be eternally grateful to be a small part of their world, I gag. I'm embarrassed that I was such a brown-noser. Maybe that part in the "Keep ya head up" vid when Pac is admonishing his partners for catcalling Jada Pinkett Smith went to my head, who knows? But I definitely didn't want to turn out like this. Now as long as I'm allowed to breathe, I'm sure I can change, but this transition is going to take a long time to occur. I just hope it's not too late.