“you’re friends don’t actually like you, they just like what you can do for them”
so sayeth the anything but encouraging tome you are worthless, which i “scored” while working at star tickets (i borrowed it from a girl in accounting, who then turned around and quit a few days later and never asked for it back, so there we were). i’ve prided myself in not having such friends – although upon closer inspection, there might be a little of that going down.
for some reason i’ve always been the “go to guy” when it comes to relationship advice. even when i couldn’t land a girlfriend or even get laid hanging out around a women’s prison i was still constantly being courted for my advice on people’s love life issues. and the odd fucking thing? when followed, my advice usually WORKED. i knew what the fuck i was talking about – but it was very much a “do what i say, not what i do” thing because…well…my shit seemed to work out for E V E R Y O N E…except me.
now i’m married to a lovely woman, all is well romantically, and i wish that upon others…NOW when people come to me for advice or to vent about their relationship woes or what have you it makes sense. and a friend has been doing just that. after things being on again/off again while they were living a lot closer to me, he moved off half way across the country, and then even though things looked shaky (at best), she followed. and things didn’t go well. but once some dough gets thrown around, and pretty things get purchased, all is apparently right again.
that ain’t a relationship – that’s just being bought & paid for.
and part of the romance/finance ratio appears to be a trek back to their mutual mother land – texas. they came back for the holidays for a few weeks and we didn’t get to hang out…but she stressed that THIS time she “really wanted to see her friends” and i was at the top of the list! i felt pretty damn special until without missing a beat said “sean time” was also supposed to include piercing and tattooing and it was hinted that it shouldn’t be at normal rates. so she ain’t looking for “sean time” kinda shit, she looking for “sean price” kinda shit. and that nigga dead…
…an early early EARLY astrowhore bit talked about a message on my answering machine (and i believe even included a full transcription) courtesy of an old “friend” from my sundance records days (i’m actually wearing a black on black shirt from the shop as i type this) who found out when he went to the shop that i’d left to work at star tickets. he then went to the dry erase board in the store that listed all the events star tickets was doing, made a list of what all he wanted to go to FOR FREE and then called my machine dictating his list of “hook ups” and to “holla back and let him know what’s up”.
i ain’t no holla back girl…and he’s still waiting for that call. it’s been over sixteen years since the message was left. and he never tried to reach out to me afterwards…i guess no hook-up, no friendship. and that’s why he doesn’t have any knuckles representing him on my arm…and neither does the person referenced above.
i don’t see either of those happening…
**it should be noted i had ZERO inkling that there was a rapper named “sean price” when i used the term, but when i went looking for a google image i could drop in (which i figured would just be some cheesy one where the “S” in “SEAN” was a “$” or some such shit) which now i kinda want to see…
there – that’s better. RIP sean price – no disrespect was meant to you, your family, or your crew – just happened to fit the bit perfectly…**