Do you care if your kid’s gay? (Don't lie)

So my 17-year-old cousin just came out of the closet to the fam. He made a big announcement to us all, his mom, dad, uncles, aunts, cousins, even our great grandmother, the matriarch of the family. Major balls.

A resounding part of me applauds him for his courage, and I told him so. I mean, people live years in the closet, lifetimes even – marrying and having kids and living a façade … and some with good reason. Its 2007, but for some people, coming out still means risking many of the relationships they hold dear. The reaction to David’s announcement was mixed, as could be expected I guess. But I was one of the many in our clan that took it in stride. I’ll love him no matter what.

I have to admit tho, it came as a real shock.

Growing up, he wasn’t the kid that got picked on and called f*ggot by the bigger boys. He didn’t skip rope with the girl cousins in the summers or play dolls with us. He played football and wrestled and got bruised up and cursed. At 12, he skipped Sunday school and got caught fingering the pastor’s daughter in the basement – during service, no less. He was a boy. And in high school, he’d often confide in me of his conquests with the ladies. He’s dashingly handsome, the girls love him and he seemed to love them. None of the stereotypic “tells” applied here. His coming out came out of left field. His being gay, in and of itself I guess, isn’t so much to accept, for me. It’s the surprise. I mean, I thought my gaydar was on point. This one clearly slipped under.

And that got me to thinking … I don’t wanna be surprised like that. More specifically … and I’ll just say it, cause I don’t know how to say it, but to say it …




I don’t want my son to surprise me in 16 years. I don't want my kid to be gay. There.

Is that even okay to say in 2008? I dunno. I mean, I consider y’all to be fam, so I’m making this really real. I have to admit tho, I do have some misgivings about even feeling that way. Judgemental. I mean, I have gay relatives (one more, as of late) gay friends … really good gay friends, and I looove Noah’s Ark (the Black gay series on LoGo). I kinda feel like a hypocrite, yknow? like the white guy who says “I don’t mind my daughter bein friends with em but I’ll be damned if she marries a darkie.” Isn’t it the same thing? It’s okay to spend a Saturday shopping or dance the night away at a gay bar with my boifriends, and if that’s the lifestyle my cousin says is for him, that’s cool with me, too - But not my son? Not my son? I mean, I’ll love my baby boy no matter what, that’s not even my issue. Be clear. But I want him to be straight. More than that, I don’t want him to be gay. Is that kinda f*cked up? Just askin.

So tell me mamas, especially the ladies raising boys, but even if you have a daughter, is your child’s sexuality concerning? Do you even care? Don’t lie.

-Melyssa Ganache (Originally published Oct4, 2007, thus some comments are old)

Speaking of the - ahem - aforementioned, this kid's got talent:

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Baby Daddy Benefits: Who's cashin in?

Since he dropped the seed and you both dropped the relationship, can daddy still drop by?

Just askin.

Before I became a member of the single mom club, I had no idea that the notion of Baby Daddy Benefits even existed. Apparently, its quite common.

I was chatting with a guy friend of mine on the phone. He loves to tell me his business. Anyway, he told me how he could call his babys moms whenever, let her know when hed be around, and when he touched down (he lives out of state) she would get rid of her man and that @ss would be waiting. He said she now does all kinds of shyt she never did before the baby. Errything, tossin salads, freaky lingerie, roleplay and all that. (Guess she wasnt goin all out before. Maybe thats why he left her in the first place. Just a thought). But anyway, the question was posed to me, does my babys daddy get Baby Daddy Benefits?

Its no small-known fact that once a man has had a woman, he always thinks of her p#ssy as his. Something like cumming on you (or, in you, in our cases) and a dog pissing on his territory, marking it to ward off other horny males. I know it makes absolutely no sense, but Ive heard it explained by a few of my guy friends and Im confident theyre not alone in their thinking, obtuse tho it may be. And if thats so, its no stretch of the imagination that a woman whod actually born the seed of a man would have an eternal claim placed on her p#ssy. For ever.

Baby Daddy Benefits can be redeemed in the form of a quickie right before he picks the kids up to take them to the park or some deep throat when he drops off diapers. LOL, I dunno, Im just sayin.

I know these so-called benefits, or lack thereof, probably depend upon the particular situation, how the relationship ended, who cheated on who, other relationships you or he may be involved in all that. But by show of hands, assuming you are not involved in an agreed upon monogamous relationship with your kids papa, whos still getting it in with the babys daddy?

My hands down, by the way. That ni66a comes poking round here again, hell get his puny little d!ck cut off. For real.

-Melyssa Ganache

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How important is sex in a relationship?

I was having this conversation with one of my best guy friends the other day. I call him Rev Kev because he’s the one I talk to when I’d like a man’s opinion with a little Holy Ghost on the side. Just keeps everything balanced, don’t it? (He’s also a very talented musician, by the way. Check out his myspace).

Anyway, so I was bitching to him about the lack of a man in my life, as I often do. He’s so kind to listen to this crap. So I ran down my ever-lengthening list of “must-haves” and one of the top entries happens to be killer sex. Problem?

Rev Kev seems to think requirements like that are exactly my problem. He says I put too much emphasis on sex.

Nonsense.

I’m not sayin sex is the absolute most important thing in a relationship. Absolutely not. I think trust takes that slot hands down. However, good sex is pretty high on my top 10. No, mind bending sex won’t make a relationship in and of itself, no matter how good the d*ck is. But bad sex can damn sure ruin an otherwise good relationship. I’m just sayin.

After all, what is a great relationship, with open communication, wonderful chemistry, love, trust …. All that shyt, without sex? A GLORIFIED FRIENDSHIP. I’m just sayin.

(Why in the world do I even field such questions with someone who’s prone to give me such stick-in-the-mud suggestions anyway? Because my girls are liable to have me out there bad with the wanton-whore advice they pass out.)

How ya’ll feel?

-- Melyssa Ganache

Wanna know more?
Get all the personal details
at my other blog on

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Single Mom Standards (Tho the dope boy still turns me on)

At some point in time, every girl wants to f*ck with a thug. Don’t act like it wasn’t you. You may not wanna marry him and bring him home to papa, but you want to get down. ESPECIALLY girls out the burbs. Case in point (points to self). I hate to be that girl. And the only reason I’m telling y’all this is because I expect I won’t be the only one with similar stories to share. Do share.

And really, I thought I was past that good girl/bad boy stage. It’s so high school, right? I mean, I’m a grown @ss woman, dog. I need a man who’s neck tat doesn’t show above his collar line, who’s FICO score is a 7 (at least a 6 and climbing) and who has some work history. (More importantly, some work present.) I mean, I KNOW this, right? But yall, I had a near setback the other weekend.



I went to this hole-in-the-wall club in VA with a couple of girlfriends from college. What the hell we were doing there, I have no idea. I was entirely too sophisticated for that mess, okay? Bullet holes in the wall and errything. And I was about ready to just put down my drink, (in a glass I was reluctant to even put my lips on), and be the f*ck out.

That’s when I saw him.

He had to have been 6’3, strong, built like a grown @ss man, dark chocolate and leaning up against the bar drinkin on his dark liquor and smoking on his Black. I saw him and he saw me and I knowd dey wuz a God. (Who saw The Color Purple on B’Way? Fantasia ripped it. Tears y’all. I cried).

Before I could rein it in, my imagination had escaped me, dreaming up all kinds of hot, sweaty scenarios with the dark stranger who’s pants hung low off his hips. I imagined him atop me (pants around his ankles, like a thug do, you know) … astride me … behind me … twisting my body into all manner of hedonistic positions … That Plies line from “Shawty,” rang in my head – “She used to run from the d!ck, now she like pain.” Damn.

Be patient with me yall, God is still workin on me.

I mean, even after I snapped back to reality, I just wanted to ask that man what he was drinkin on so I could get him another one, you hear me? It must’ve been all over my face because he motioned for me to come over. I’m thinkin: What? Negro please. When was the last time a nigga motioned me anywhere and I came? What, 2000? You wanna holla at me, you need to come see me.

Shiiiyt, you know how quick I got my ass over to that bar in my stilettos? Light speed, y’all.

But does the reality ever live up to the fantasy? His shirt pronounced that he was a “HUSTLA” in a bold, bling print, but getting any more information was a task. It was loud and the bass was pumpin, so I tried to give him a pass, but my man’s conversation was seriously laggin. I must admit, I did take his number, but to my credit, it layed dormant on the dresser for two whole days and I left it there when I checked out of the hotel.

I mean, what would have been the point? Through the clarity of sober reflection, it came to me: If I don’t want my son to be like you, you can’t be with me. Simple as that.

So that’s my new standard. Let’s put a list together, Single Mom Standards. You'll find the beginning of the check-off roster to the right. So tell me, mamasitas, what dyou go by when deciding if a man deserves your time?

I’ll be checking for responses, but mean time, I’ll just bump my Ciara and fantasize. That man was fine.

- Melyssa Ganache


Can’t Leave Em Alone - Ciara

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Somethin strange for some change: What wouldn't you do?

I am a firm believer in the old adage, never say never. You don’t know what you’ll do in a given situation until you find yourself, in real life and without warning, in that situation.

You think you’re not that bleach-pouring, clothes-burning chick, until you walk in on your husband in bed with the house wife from next door. Or maybe you’re not the type to cheat, until the man who has everything you’ve ever wanted suddenly wants you too.

Not that you don’t know yourself as well as any -- And certainly if there’s any indicator of future behavior it’s past transgressions, of which you may not have many -- But still …

You don’t know what you’d do till somebody shows you the cash and asks you to do it.

I’m just sayin. Never say never.

So tell me ladies, what’s the most uncharacteristic thing you’ve been asked to do, cash on the table? Never found yourself in such straits? (Perhaps it’s just me). Okay, then tell me this, what wouldn’t you do for the right price? Don’t say money’s not a factor, or you wouldn’t do anything for cash you wouldn’t do for free. Hogwash. Let’s be honest. Go.

-- Melyssa Ganache

Sidebar: I am sooo effin mad I missed Cheri Dennis tonite. In short, I live way out in the boonies of NJ and missed the train to the city. My cab to the train station was late and I got my heel caught twice in sidewalk cracks. Really stuck. It took me a minute to wrestle it free. Anyway, the next train wasn’t for an hour and I was like eff it. I picked up some wing zingers from Chicken Holiday on the way home and called it a nite. It’s just as well. I was gonna meet up after the show with a former male co-worker with whom I have nothing but ill intent. No good. :)

Wanna know more?

Get all the personal details

at my other blog on

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You kiss your baby with that mouth?

About the balance of single motherhood and single womanhood ... It is a tightrope, aint it?

When my baby was born, I became a changed woman. And most of the changes, I welcomed. I love motherhood and I knew I’d be giving up a few things in order to be a successful mom. But damn, can I just have a couple of them back?

I had no idea that within a brief nine-month period, the mouth that had once, thru much study and research, gotten felatio down to a scientific pattern of rhythm and pressure would be forever changed. The mountainous breasts - oh so soft, but just firm enough - that had once been the downfall of many a disciplined man, would be hidden away for what seems like ever; and those home-wrecking hips would have no further need to swing. I’m playin, y’all. I’m playin. : )

No, really.


But seriously, the only action I'm gettin lately is giving my baby boy zerberts. And the boobs, he’s just sucked dry, y’all. Dry. Who knew that God made boobs to produce milk? All this time? I mean, really.

So he’s 15-months old and I just wanna know: Where is the balance between single motherhood and single womanhood? In other words, when does mama get to get it in?

I’m not talking about a 10-years-later re-adaptation of that drunken threesome you had in college. (You did have a drunken threesome in college, right? Don’t act like I’m the only freak here.) But I’m talking about the much more mundane aspects of having a sex life. Like … having sex, for instance.

I guess I’m having trouble, not just literally, (although, that too) but morally, reconciling sex as a single, with single momdom. I’m having my own Madonna/whore complex meltdown. I mean, I feel guilty about kissing my baby boy with liquor on my breath, so ... clearly … how can anything else go down? (No pun intended).

So I confided in a couple of good friends last weekend about my dilemma. We’ve been girls since college. One of them said something that was so poignant, I have to share. It hasn’t really helped me, but maybe if you’re going thru the same struggle, it’ll help you. So Ayana says:

“Don’t act like BD’s are the last balls you’ll ever have on your chin. That’s stupid.”

Wow. Indeed. Well when it’s broken down like that … See that’s what friends are for.
And so, I am a woman. And according to one of my best girlfriends, that’s ok. (Nevermind the balls on Ayana’s chin are her husband’s and the father of her child, or that we happened to be in town together in the first place for Katia’s bachelorette party.) Katia, who was amping me up to take the very well hung stripper out to the parking lot and put it on him like she knows I can (or used to, perhaps). “You deserve it,” she coaxed.

I need new friends.

But really, it’s not the same when you’re getting down with your baby’s daddy, or even your kid’s stepdaddy. I mean, what kind of whore do you have to be to go out and have frivolous sex, or worse, come in and have frivolous sex and you’re supposed to be a mom? Ok, that was a loaded question. Just tell me this. I need to know:

Single moms, how do you get it in?
(No judging. Promise).

-Melyssa Ganache

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Cheri Dennis in NYC, Live and Free

Ya'll should come out. The other site I blog for, Twelve24girl is putting this lil shindig on and Melyssa Ganache <--- (points to self) will definitely be in the place to be. Cheri Dennis' single "Portrait of Love" with Yung Joc is my shyt. Sure hope there's gonna be drank. :)

Check the vid after the break.

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'Ay Bay Bay!' ... On my hip

I might just stay indoors forever. Because there are no men at my house (could that be part of the problem?) No, really. F o r e v e r.

I think we can all agree, it's hard for a fairly attractive woman to pick up groceries at the Super Wally World without being picked up on, herself. (Best case scenario, he wants to carry her bags through the parking lot, worst: he wants a ride).

She doesn't even have to be fine. Single women (really just women) can't help but draw that male attention.

So we go out half expecting it. Somebody's gonna honk at you at the light or yell out "shawty!" as you pause at the stop sign, or ask you if your man knows how good he has it while you pump gas. But ladies, have you ever been hollered at while you're out with your kid(s)?

Man listen, one dude stepped to me and, after I graciously declined his offer for dinner, was like, "Ma, I'm sayin, I know the baby needs some milk. The baby need diapers, right? I'm sayin ..." <------ NO really. This really happened. An actual person said that. I must really look like I don't have a man.

So tacky.

I mean, okay if I'm with my son at Chuck E Cheese and dude is with his daughter at Chuck E Cheese, and he wants to strike up a lil convo about the kids as we supervise them bouncing around in the ball house. But outside of McDonald's Playland, Toys R Us or some other expressly kid friendly place like that, (and of course assuming his little bambino is along), don't approach me.

I know, I know, all these rules. And yes, nine times outta ten I'm gonna have my toddler right with me and that being so, could mean I'm missing out on a few good (fine and black) men. But really, if I'm out doin the mom thing, I just don't feel comfortable being stepped to as anything other than a mom. So if it ain't about the kids, keep it movin. Am I wrong? How y'all feel?

-Melyssa Ganache

And so appropriately ...

Ay Bay Bay (remix) - Hurricane Chris feat. Game, Lil Boosie, Birdman, Angie Locc and Jadakiss

Hated this song, the hook is soooo irritating. But me and Game could be together. For real.

Wanna know more?

Get all the personal details

at my other blog on

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Get Yo Shyt: The Beginning

Howdy all, My name's Melyssa Ganache and this is my blog. Thanks for the click.

This blog, for me, is about life after I told the controlling, nutcase in my life, (who happens to be my son's father), to get his shyt, cause I was tired of his shyt and changed the locks on his ass. (Points to self). Actually, I didn't change the locks, but damn I wish I would've had the forethought to do that because do you know that ni66a came back in my apartment when I was gone and went thru my shyt? Pissed.

Remember this?

I personally found that scene absolutely inspirational. :)

Anyway, since I sent that so-and-so packing, it's now time for me to get my own shyt together. This blog -- an outlet for my own venting -- is part of that process.

Otherwise tho, Get Yo Shyt is a haven for single women, especially single mothers like myself. A place for us to swap our stories and advice, get real about sex, life and relationships, with a little bit of the latest pop culture debauchery thrown in for kicks. Why not?

So come thru often, get comfy and comment, comment, comment. I thrive on your feedback and wanna create an open, honest dialogue with like minded folk.

Thx guys! Let's go.

- Melyssa Ganache

Wanna know more?

Get all the personal details

at my other blog on

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