Not a fighter but… don’t let the Bougie fool you

An acquaintance of mine (who used to be one of my very best friends) sent me an email today to lament the fact that we are no longer close. And by lament, I mean she took up six paragraphs talking about herself before saying that there was a time she would have felt comfortable calling me to talk about all of this but since I'm "so distant" lately, she had to share another way. Le Sigh. Guilting someone only works on the guilty, playette. This is a girl who has lied to (and about) me, has attempted to steal (more than one) S/O, and basically displayed a flaky untrustworthiness that caused me to give up a friendship that began when I was fifteen years old. Maturity has its privileges. Instead of recounting all of her misdeeds, I hit the reply button and typed, "Glad to hear all is well, be blessed." Time was I would have snatched up the phone and ripped off a rant of epic proportions or felt the need to fire back with a multi-page tirade of my own.

So this got me to thinking about just what it takes to push my buttons these days (besides the wingnuts, exes who know which buttons to push, and gratuitous violence). I'm attempting to develop a kind of "it is what it is" mellow combined with prayer to block the drama around me. But allow me share a little bit about things that may cause my pleasing, bougie personality to slip a little bit. OneChele is a lover, not a fighter, ya'll. But don't let the sweet smile fool ya... here are a few things that may cause OneChele to consider lifting the size 8 ½ purple pump off the ground to point it towards your rear end. (Ya'll know I've been on that Wii kick-boxing program)

The Mouth: As Latifah once said, "Who you callin' a b*tch?" Uh-hmm, please think twice before the word flies up out your mouth in my direction. Ditto that with ho, skank, slut or any derivative of loose, unpleasant womanhood slang. And while I'm on it, miss me with the baby gurl, shawty and boo of it all as well. If you can't call me by the name BougieRents picked out for me, we don't need to chat. Also, I'm definitely a "keep my name out of your mouth" girl. It's not that I expect everyone to like me (though why wouldn't you? J). But not liking me and talking about me like a dog are two different things. And why is it that the sh!t-talkers never say it to your face? Why is it that they always say it to someone who relates it back to me? OLD SCHOOL ALERT: If you don't have anything nice to say… ya'll know the rest.

The Hands: Do not touch! If I have not implicitly or explicitly invited you to touch a body part currently attached to my frame, please restrain yourself. This includes the drunken arm/shoulder/booty grab at the club. Would you go into a showroom and fondle merchandise you know you cannot afford to purchase? Think on these things before you reach out and touch.

The Meanness: 'If my Homie calls,' a classic by Tupac where he states, "No matter who the foe they must fall, us against them all, I'm down to brawl if my homies call." This means those who cause harm to BougieFam or BougieFriends, sleep lightly. I'm not a brawler but make a tear fall out of BougieNiece's eye or have Bougie Ex-College Roommate calling me choked up… hmm, well there's great song from the Disappearing Acts soundtrack called Sweet Revenge where girlfriend says, "Now don't you wish I were the type to slash tires?"

Jive Talkin': This only applies during NFL playoffs (not that I have to worry about this anytime soon with those Cowboys). Yeah um, you can't be up in my house talking the yakkity-yak about my home team when I am providing food, drink and big screen goodness. You may have a comment or two but the jumping up and down, "In yo' face, dat's what I'm talking about. Yo boyz getting skull-drug up and down the field!" Carry that on home. I'm a gracious (sorta) loser at EVERY thing else but football. Oooh – also: at the card table… hold on to it. BougieFam can play up some cards. Spades, Gin, Bridge, Pinochle, Whist, Rummy, War. We play friendly in the beginning. But talk some noise and be prepared to have a Boston run on your behinds while you are summarily dismissed from the table.

Blatant Stupidity: This includes racism, classism, sexism… all the -isms. This is what caused me to pretty much boycott Twitter all weekend. The ignorance swirling around Barack Obama's winning of the Nobel Peace Prize coupled with the drunk tweeting (folks had wildly inappropriate oversharing moments) just tipped me over the edge. I have a very low threshold for stupid sh!t and lately, people just seemed to want to pontificate on things about which they have no knowledge. I really couldn't (and still can't) understand why when the first African-American President wins a world-renowned prize, folks wouldn't cheer and say, "Good for you." Don't get me started.

Since I'm on a roll, I'll flip the script. Here are five things I will NOT be getting my ass kicked over:

Men: "I'll take yo' man!" Ah you know what? If you are that bad, my game is that raggedy and old boy is so easily swayed… take him. I do NOT fight over the menfolk. I will remind the gentleman exactly what he will be missing when he goes and that this door don't swing both ways and then I'm stepping to the left. Fly and be free.

Games: Yes games- spades, scrabble, gin, dominoes, tennis, Wii bowling, Xbox Madden… all in good fun. As long as you aren't cheating or running your mouth beyond the point of obnoxious (see above) go ahead and get your win on. Losing a game will not cause me to take the dangly earrings off. I'm super competitive and love to win but I won't fight over it. It's just not that crucial.

Parking Spaces: BougieSis will be happy to know that I have finally grown beyond flashing the mean mug, laying on the horn and gunning past people into the last space closest to the shoe department at Nordstrom's in the Galleria. Yes, I have grown (and can afford valet). I have actually matured so that I will circle the lot a time or two waiting for a worthy spot to open up. No longer do I scream out of the window, "Respect the German engineering, baby!" as I whiz past to capture the prize.

Our differences: So you love True Blood, Gin Fizzes, Sarah Palin, rottweilers named killa and Kenny Chesney… good on ya. I like Entourage, chocolate martinis, anyone not named Sarah Palin, I'm allergic to both dogs and cats but Kenny Chesney is alright in small doses. So let's embrace the similarities, respect the differences and move on. I'm open to a spirited (intelligent) debate and then I will politely agree to disagree. Gone are the days when I needed you to think like me, agree with me, do what I do and say what I say. You do you, sweetie… it's all good.

Money: I no longer loan it and expect it back, I only give to charities I absolutely believe in and I wouldn't borrow any unless it was from BougieFam as a last resort to keep the lights on. If you are a grown man over the age of 35 and have none, that is your prerogative but I don't have to like it. I have seen to many relationships and friendships get strained over dollars and it is so not worth it.

So dear readers, what might cause your pleasant personality to slip? What things have you learned to let slide?