A T L = Neverland

Culturally, North Jersey and the Tri-State area is one of most richest places nationwide. As a native, I’ve found that we live life based on very self-motivating principles that distinctively mix between tradition, upbringing and reality. Those brought up with me would probably agree in saying that we were raised to resourcefully seize the today using the lessons that we learned yesterday. Essentially, there’s just a way that we live life – exclusive to North Jersey. We live youthfully with old ways. Many of us value young love. That hood love. The around-the-way love that breeds families and strong long-lasting relationships between two people who can say they have been together since before they could buy each other a drink. In the absence of this kind authenticity, living in Atlanta has always been an on and off struggle for me. It’s safe to say that I’m kinda over this whole “Black Hollywood” fad that helped to lure me here in the first place. Parts of me have concluded that there’s no more to this place than what meets the eye. Yeah, it’s all about the music and the party life here. Being seen [or discovered] is the essence of going to the club… don’t nobody dance but the girls, on themselves. And its women are [hands down] some of the most beautiful black women in America, whether they’re from here or not!

To most [and me circa 2005], this sounds like a dream, which is why people like my friends love it so much down here. I, howeve, am nowhere near disgusted by the ATL, but over time have come to look at it in the same way that Peter Pan and Lost Boys regarded Neverland – as a metaphor for endless childishness, immortality and escapism.

Yes, biased I am since I’ve yet to experience this place as a member of the “working class”… so maybe I should think twice before labeling it? Iddunno. But this all stems from a certain experience this past weekend. A popular club venue here in town hosted its second annual SuperBowl party and I went with some friends. Above all, it was a great venue and I was quite impressed with how it was outfitted for the game. BUT, the crowd itself was a whole different story. The crowd appeared mostly single, but as far the average age…. I would say it fell somewhere between the mid-to-late thirties. Now, normally I would’ve been thrilled by the chance to get gabby with a cougar [LOL]… but the women up in there were not cougars by any stretch of my imagination. If they weren’t already boo’d up, they were single thirty to forty year-old somethings who came to find themselves some other single thirty to forty year-old somethings. Among other reasons, getting in where I could fit it was out of the question; I didn’t meet the minimum age requirement!!

To see all those grown ass, pre middle-aged and single (or pretending to be) people in one place disturbed me though. For some reason, I strongly believe in the order of lifes phases; whether male of female, I feel like you sow your wild oats, commit to somebody, marry that somebody, build a life with them, retire and die with them. I don’t know where these people at this party were in life, but I do know that I don’t want to be like them. The thought of me becoming one of those baldheaded, 36 year-olds like the ones flooding that party on Sunday scares the shit out of me. I mean, it was like an epidemic or something? I blame it on this big ass mental diversion called “The ATL”. I don’t know what the excuse for all the older single ladies, but for men --  there’s no incentive here for growing up and settling down. Of the 5 million+ people here, the amount of women outnumber the number or men… and men know it. Hell, I know it… and what I’m trying my damndest not to be one of the many dudes who run with that. I hope to God that I won’t be 35 years old… in the club with a Bluetooth in my ear, Kangol Cap cocked backwards on a damn SuperBowl Sunday…STILL trying to recruit a future misses. I’m only working on 27, and feeling behind the curve because of not being someone’s boyfriend. Instead of out at the club, I would have much rather been home in front of a big screen television with friends… with a beer in one hand beer, a girl [preferably of my own] and her booty.

NOTE to SELF: Ultimately, if single and staying in Atlanta permits – I have to find my niche. Don’t get caught up in the hype of the ATL and become a hopelessly single man of a certain age that is still “on the scene.”

...LIKE THIS FOOL.