Remember That Episode of Good Times When Janet Jackson Got Caught Stealing?

DISCLAIMER: BEFORE YOU STANS COME OUT OF THE WOOD WORKS AND START GOING IN ME, LET’S GET SOME THINGS CLEAR. FIRST OFF , I THANK YOU FOR COMING TO MY WEBSITE BECAUSE I NEED THE TRAFFIC. SECONDLY, THIS IS A NOT AN ATTACK ON JANET DAMITA JO JACKSON DEBARGE ELIZONDO AL MANA. Now let me tell my story.

I used to be a Janet Jackson fan. I remember when I was a kid, I would watch all her videos religiously and learn all the choreography(I still can kill the “If ” choreography). Now, I have a love/hate relationship with Janet..Ms. Jackson if you’re nasty. Not because I dislike her music. Not because I think King Bey is killing it right now. Not even because she was in three Tyler Perry movies. I’m not a fan of Janet Jackson because she reminds me of a few of my ex-lovers. And they’re Janet’s ultimate fans.

From the Janet memorabilia in every inch of their house(yes Janet was even in the kitchen and laundry room) to the Janet-inspired tattoos to mini-altars created of her, my exes have been down with Janet since Control(mind you, no one seems to remember her first two albums but I digress). Every conversation, Janet Jackson is sure to come up. We could be talking about going to get a milkshake and Janet’s name will come up, “You know Janet had a vanilla milkshake in some magazine.” Yeah, I gave the WTF look that I’m sure you’re doing now. I can’t forget the mini-marathons of Good Times.  Do you know how many times I’ve seen that episode of Good Times when Janet Jackson got caught stealing?

Coincidentally, all my Janet lovers had similar physical traits. They were usually five to seven years older than me, over six feet in height, dancers in the own right, attractive, nice ass bodies, well packed in the right place, and amazing sex. You know, the “If I was your dude, the things I would do to you” type of dudes. In so many words, I was ready to be disciplined and let it be known, this body of mine was made all for them.

Like most men, I was thinking with my dick, not my heart and definitely not my mind. As long as we were doing it anytime, anyplace over again and enjoying the principles of pleasure, I didn’t give a damn how much control they had over me, especially my emotions. This can’t be good.

Once you get passed the physical and sexual aspects of dating, your emotions started getting involved. My Janet worshippers definitely didn’t consider my emotions when it was time for them show me how the feel about me.  They would say the following:

  • Jimmie, what have you done for me lately?
  • Jimmie, I’ve been thinking about my ex and I want to work it out.
  • Jimmie, don’t you know that weed is a man’s best friend?

And my all time favorite:

  • Jimmie, let’s wait awhile before we get seriously involved in a relationship.

I assumed, that’s the way love goes. I appreciate their honesty however each contributed to the cycle of my emotional torment. The attraction to Janet fans have scarred me emotionally due to the aftermath left by my Janet lovers.  My first turbulent relationship was with a Janet fan. My last relationship was with a Janet fan and that was rocky as well. Something that I once love has become tainted by something that I despise. In this case, I use to be a huge Janet Jackson fan, but the bad memories of being involved with die hard Janet fans constantly has tainted my love for her.

Another trait my Janet lovers share is their arrogance and vanity. Its like they had to prove they were still the shit. You know you want this mentality. They’re so vain, those sons of bitches probably think this blog post is about them. Truthfully, this post is about them. They’ve  created the ultimate deal breaker for me: I will never date a Janet fan in real life ever again. When I think of you, I think about all the times you said love me when you didn’t. I think about the times when you said that no one will love me like you love me. You were right, someone showed  me they can love me so much better than you have.

You say you miss me much and wanna come back to me, we will never be together again and  you have a permanent place behind my velvet rope. You didn’t know what you had with me until it was gone however  here’s a reminder: you ran away from me love and it doesn’t even matter how you may feel about me now. No more escapades. No more china loves. No more ropeburns. Definitely, no more twenty foreplays. Our sexhibitions is what started this shit in the first place.

However, we’re all part of this rhythm nation called life and if you need someone to call on, I’ll rock with you from a distance. Some of the best things in life are free and understanding my self-worth is one of them.

Thank you for  getting me prepared me for the right dude that’ll be in my life soon. Maybe we’ll meet at a bar. Maybe he’ll drive a fucked up car. Maybe we’ll meet at a club and fall so deeply in love. He’ll tell me I’m the one and we’ll have so much fun. I’ll be the nigga of his dream maybe.  Now edit that.

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