My late granny taught me how to work a needle, so I’ll be more than happy to thread her weave into shape. (Yes, I really have sewn tracks in to weave for a woman before.)
The sophisti-ratchet sista loves living life to the fullest. That’s why you’ll always hear her saying, “YOLO.” Her boss describes her as a “smooth operator” in the boardroom, but in her mind, she prefers the title (in Trina‘s voice) “Tha Baddest Bi*ch.” Oh, and she probably has a tattoo on her left breast that reads, “Tha Baddest Bi*ch.”
Nine times out of 10, she’s a Gemini like yours truly! Try imagining the combination of Mrs. Sophisti and Miss. Ratchet, if that makes any sense.
As for what she’ll get from me…
In return, my sophisti-ratchet sista will get a, well, I don’t want to say, I’m a ratchet brotha. However, I wouldn’t mind role-playing to make my sophisti-ratchet woman-to-be happy. If she won’t mind “Blowing Me Kisses” every once and a while, I’ll have no problem being her “Souja Boy.”
On her birthday, I’ll buy her not one but “2Chainz.” And if she doesn’t mind pouring me a glass of her “Lemonade” whenever I’m feeling a little parched, I’ll get dressed up, pop my collar, and be her “Gucci Mane.” I’ll even drop my “Starr” status and be her “T-Pain” if she doesn’t mind me asking her if I can “Buy you a drink.”
(BTW: I am addicted to the “Lemonade” song. It’s downloaded to my iPhone and I listen to it at least 10 times per day–along with the other tracks in my “ratchet playlist.”)
And, although I am a Fulbright Grantee, I’ll have no problem flipping the script and being her “Ratchet Scholar.”
I’m a great cook and will prepare her breakfast before she heads off to work. To put a smile on her face during a rough work week, I’ll deliver her homemade lunch to her desk. When she steps past the threshold of our home after a long day of battling in the belly of that corporate beast, I’ll have one of her favorite dishes ready. To help her ease the stress, I’ll pour her a glass of her favorite wine (probably Moscato Rose).
After making her that wonderful meal and clearing the table, I only ask that she dances on top of it. (She doesn’t have to do it every day, of course.)
No doubt, as a “Man of Vision,” I will do my best to be her “House Keeper.”
If you’re that graduate student who would run across campus and make it rain with the pages of your dissertation after your doctoral committee approves your final draft, capture the moment on Instagram and “@” a brotha. Or @ me on Twitter.
If you’re a historian who specializes in the post-Reconstruction Era in New Orleans but is comfortable expressing your inner-Wally World and showing me a thing or two about that Louisiana Purchase, then I’ll definitely be early for class, baby!
If you’re the kind of woman who would do “The Doogie” on a crowded C-Train after getting that phone call of good news because you know “er-body luv me, er-er-body luv me,” then bring your “swag” on down to Brooklyn so we can be “Bed-Stuy Till We Die.”
What are you waiting for? Our honeymoon in Ratchetstan* and lifetime of holy ratchemony awaits!
Note: “Ratchetstan” is a term I picked up from the super-talented director and actress Issa Rae while watching her RATCHETPIECE Theater series.