It was hot. I was tired and cranky and any number of things were on my nerves. I had juggled writing books, writing articles, recruiting, BougieMom, and what seemed like a million little crises hopping up and down on my minute patience reserves all day. Plus I was hungry and hormonal. Terrible combination.
**cue the dramatical music** I strolled into 3N's house wanting nothing more than to sit under the misters on the back patio with a cocktail. Peace and quiet, an adult beverage and some sort of chips and salsa option. That's all a bougie chick craved.
What greeted me was Poker Night. Eight guys, assorted whiskeys and someone had pulled out the humidor and was about to kick off the cigar game.
"Oh, did I know it was Poker Night? Not that you have to tell me everything you're doing. I just thought. Never mind. My bad, I can go." I babbled with an inward sigh as I backed towards the garage door. So much for the misters.
3N hopped up, "Wait, it was a last minute thing, you don't have to go. You look... a little fried. You wanna hang out? You okay?"
"I'm fine." I answered still backing towards the door.
One of the poker players said, "Wait though, since you're here - can you fix snacks?" I won't even name which of the boys asked for snacks. Let's just say he's on. my. list.
Next thing I knew, I was boo-hooing and trying to leave. This caused all manner of bewildered panic to break out amongst the menfolk. Nor was I pleased. I never used to be a crier. Never. When all around me were reduced to blubbering idiocy, I remained stoic with an eyebrow raised. But one of the hormonal shifts after age 35 gifted me with this nonsense. Commercials, stress, The Notebook, frustration, bad dreams - all generate the water works. Usually, I can beat them back through sheer determination not to spend my life with pinkened eyes and puffy nose clutching a Kleenex like a damsel in distress. But for some reason, I was full scale bawling.
Utter dismay reigned supreme as the men began all getting up and speaking at once.
"Who the f**k asked for snacks?!"
"I was only joking. We brought our own food, really!"
"Oh my God, what's wrong - is she sick?"
"What did you do?"
"I didn't do anything!"
"Maybe that's the problem. Maybe you were supposed to do something."
"Michele, did he forget to do something?'
"What should we do?"
"Something, look at her, she's miserable."
"Put her to bed."
"Put her to bed? She's a grown azz woman, what are you talking about?"
"Then take her to bed? Is that better? You knew what I meant, damn!"
"Should we go?"
"God, I hate when women cry."
"At least she cries pretty. It's the ugly cry that rips your heart out."
"The silent cry when you can't tell they're crying until you see the tears?"
"That's the worst."
"Crying during sex is the worst."
"You made a women cry during sex?"
"Tears of joy, son - tears of joy. But you have to stop and ask."
"Can all of you shut the hell up for ten seconds?"
By this time, 3N was hustling me back to his room and was all urgent. "What is it, what's wrong? Did I do something? These guys could go. Talk to me. Or do you just want to stand here like this for a minute? I can shut up. I'll just hold you. Should I sing, rock back and forth, strip, run a bath, what's going to make you happy? Just give me a sign, a nudge, a head bop. You're scaring the shit out of me."
I started laughing that hiccupy half laugh, half cry. I had to. He was so panicky. "I'm sorry, long day. Hormones. You're fine. I'm fine. Stripping? For real though?"
He let out a deep sigh. "A brother was willing to try anything."
"Within reason, woman. What's really going on with you?"
I went into the bathroom and splashed water on my face - yes, the Lash-Blast Waterproof Mascara works! I walked back in, "It was a moment. I think I'm more tired than I realize. I'm really okay. Let me go holla at your boys. They've gone deathly silent in there." I walked back out to the living room. "Minor meltdown, fellas but we're all good. Sorry?" I flashed a smile.
They seemed to all exhale at once. So I had to ask, "You all got a little wigged. What is it about the tears?"
"Means I've done something wrong and chances are I don't know what."
"Tears mean something has to be fixed and I have to fix it."
"I don't want to see someone I care about in pain."
"Oh yeah, if a man walks out on a woman when she is crying, he gives not a single f**k about her."
"Unless she's a drama queen and cries all the damn time."
"An unhappy woman is never a good thing"
"I never know how to make the tears stop."
"Oh there's one way to make them stop"
"Do you always think with your d**k?"
"My grandmama says too much crying is followed by goodbyeing."
"What does that even mean?"
"You would know if you could but keep a woman for more than a weekend."
I had to go before that turned ugly. "Okay fellas, I'm going to head out. Great seeing everybody. Sorry for the scare."
Brothers of the blogosphere - what's the deal with the tear freak out? Is it really that uncomfortable for you? (Because it's quadruple uncomfortable for us when you cry) Ladies, aren't we irritated by the women who fake cry to get what they want? Let's talk water works today. Who sheds them, when, why and how do we handle it.
p.s. I hate hormones.