Address Me As Dr. Fuqua Please

Jess Fuqua
Jul 12, 2018
8 min read

It’s 3:55 AM on a Thursday morning. It doesn’t get more random than that. I currently feel like I’m in the Twilight Zone or on the brink of scientific discovery. It’s as if I have spent the last few years of my life studying a particular specimen and I have just made a breakthrough. Nobel Peace Prize me. Dedicate museums to me. Put me in your children’s textbooks. For I have finally gathered enough research to see how this specimen thinks. I have discovered the abnormalities. Their signaling mechanism. This foreign concept. My specimen: Young men. The breakthrough concept: Their radar.

Now I had prepared a cute summer piece. I had intended to divulge how this was the best summer ever, how the season was going so far and overall get gushy with yall about how I stepped out of my comfort zone and potentially found something great for a period of time or just currently. Either way I think the piece would have been inspiring and dope. And I have a steady following, (thank you) so I think yall would enjoy me being happy. Anyway, when God wakes you up before 4 AM, you should pray, he’s calling you for quiet time. When God wakes creatives up before 4 AM, we have to work!

My head was racing. Full of story lines, full of words. I had to get to a computer. I had to type; I couldn’t let this breakthrough fade away. When a new young man enters my life, I often get a text from an old flame. Mr. Thompson was my weakness and could always sway me. You know the situation. You’re moving on from someone who can always pull you back or an ex. Someone always senses when your light is about to change. I firmly believe that young men have a Batman type light built into their room. Or do their iPhones send out certain alerts like the Amber Alerts?

*LOUD DING* “Tasha is texting a new young man. He’s 6’6. Size 15 shoe. Has a bright future. No kids. He’ll treat her right.” Let me go fuck this up. Boy if you don’t get your size 9 ass to the left. Let Tasha live!

He texts you some emoji eyes, or an “I miss you.” You’re fucked. You’re spinning. You haven’t spoken to this person. They’ve been off your radar for months. You’ve had time to mature, to grow, to meet someone else and yet here they are, suddenly. Not suddenly. You see though they may not be on your radar, you have triggered theirs.

When females are happy their body exudes a hormonal fragrance that resonates to any male who has been in her presence. This scent is especially strong to those who have kissed her. But do not be fooled it can resonate to anyone she has been around. The scent activated the “Prize Gene” within young men. You see, the Prize Gene taps into man’s animal like nature. They see the female as a prize of sorts. Their’s. Prey. Another Lion can’t have another Lion’s Antelope. Men sense when “their” female is about to become someone else’s. Serious action must be taken after this. CON-FUSE HER. DESTROY HER. WRECK HER.

Take back what’s “yours”. Shot your shot. See how she’s doing. She’s fine. She has size 15s in her life. SHE. IS. GOODT.

This is a serious issue affecting the male population. The “Radar” as I have coined it, or the scientific term “The Prey Gene” greatly affects 90% of the male population, especially the age range of 18-25. My research and case studies have proven the cases to be especially heinous on HBCU campuses. Tragic. I may be risking all I have worked for to say this, but I feel as though this gene is a mental illness. Stay with me, I have evidence to support this matter.

You’ll recall I said I woke up randomly on this Thursday morning. Well like any typical 21 year old, I reached for my phone. Previously during the day on Wednesday, Instagram had introduced a new feature where your followers could ask you questions and you could respond on your Insta story.

Now I need to give you all some background content. 1. Yes I have been entertaining someone new, for about the length of this entire summer. Am I still single? Of course. 2. My first job was in high school at TJ Maxx and I quit the Fall of 2015, I have not had physical contact with my coworkers since then. 3. I had a coworker from TJ Maxx attempt to talk to me during the time I was working. He got fired. 17 year old me had standards, 21 year old me does too, higher actually, but anyway 17 year old me didn’t want anyone who couldn’t even hold down a job at TJ Maxx, he also didn’t attend college, which is just a standard of mine, so that shot completely missed. Over the course of my college matriculation, he continued to text me from different numbers, dm me etc. I always ignored them or left dry responses. We’re in 2018 ladies and gentlemen, why is he still shooting at me? 4. I rode the Nashville Metro bus home, for a year from high school, before I got my driver’s license and car, let’s say my last bus ride was Spring of 2013 or 2014, the take away is, it was a hella long time ago.

Let’s dive back into the present. Radars have been going off for young men in my life left and right due to the fact of background info #1. So Insta’s doing questions right? My old coworker jumped on that. That wouldn’t have been my avenue since Insta doesn’t allow the questions to be anonymous, but like I said it’s a mental illness, The Prey Gene. This young man proceeds to ask “Why did we never work out?” Why did we never work out? Why did we never out?? First off we never were a "we" nor did anything ever progress past a “Hey” or “Do you need a $15 gram” Both of those were never going to get a response out of me, so you can really answer your own question bud. Not to mention, I HAVE NOT HAD PHYSICAL CONTACT WITH THESE TJ MAXX PEOPLE IN ALMOST 4 YEARS. Whet? That’s psychotic. That’s obsession. That’s a mental illness. To continue to shoot at someone you haven’t seen in 4 years nor had a full conversation with. I answered him with a simple “It wasn’t meant to be.” I remained positive and nice. I don’t like being rude, nor hurting people. That should have deaded the situation right? Mental illness is one hell of a thing. He proceeds to dm me saying I never gave him a chance. Young men, I’m talking to you one on one now. No woman is obligated to give you the time of day. Just like her body, her spirit, her mind and her time belong to her. Period. Periodt for emphasis. Just because you shoot, does not mean your ball is going to go in. LeBron misses free throws too. Do not pressure a woman to express interest in you, solely because you have expressed interest in her. Sound rapey yet? You’re borderline there. Take the L and enjoy your day. When you don’t, this opens up avenues for stalking and revenge violence. This builds character and is just the risk you take when you approach a woman.

I told him I wasn’t obligated to give him a chance and he proceeded to beg for one. I had to hit him with the “I have a boyfriend.” line. This is extremely radioactive for the gene. But its ok, it’s his Prey Gene, the aroma is heavily bothering him and his reaction is taking a turn my research hasn’t seen before. I’ll refer him to the drug trials and monitor his vitals.

As I’m checking my phone I see that my Twitter dms and my iMessages are also popping. Popping with young men. Now it should be noted I posted the quote “Have enough courage to trust love one more time and always one more time.” by the GOAT Maya Angelou on my Insta feed. Could this have increased the reaction of the gene? The aroma now combined with a visual source. Interesting. A breakthrough. I’ll have to let my team in on this and run a few trials to see if there is any correlation. Did they take this post as me being in love? I was using it as a teaser to the new blog I was working on. And only creative minds would catch on that I had previously used this quote to open up my virginity piece. My Advanced Placement Literature soul is dancing because the correlation of those two posts is going to be so dope.

But anyway, young men are sliding me their numbers and shots are coming from people I never expected. It’s an epidemic! I’m perplexed.

I feel as though today the gene came to a head for many. I had noticed it’s presence within my life around the 4th of July. I noted background info #4 due to the fact a young man from the bus slid in my Facebook dms. Now call me whatever names you may have for this statement, but if you shooting at me on Facebook, just stop. It’s not gonna work, it’s never gonna go in and I just can’t take you serious at that point. One thing with me, we don’t do love on Facebook. He started up a full blown conversation with me as if we were old friends. I rode the bus with you. I spent an average of 30 minutes a day with you for a year, we were not friends. We hadn’t spoken since 2013 and you’re coming at me as if we just kicked it last week? Mental illness. He asked if I wanted to go on a date with him. I didn’t respond, and then he asked if I wanted to come to his cookout. Now it also should be noted he is of lighter complexion than African descent. I don’t do of lighter complexion than African descent’s cookouts nor am I about to roll up on someone I HAVEN’T HAD PHYSICAL CONTACT WITH IN ALMOST 5-6 YEARS. I let him know I wasn’t comfortable and reminded him we hadn’t spoken in 5 years. He never replied. I checked his stats and feel as though the gene is out of his system. A positive analysis.

My team and I are working every day to produce more commentary on the gene and help those affected by it. Both men and women. It is my greatest desire to reside in a world where the gene does not affect anyone. Men allow women to grow and receive love from someone who can properly give it to them. I hope to find a way to trigger the gene sooner, follow with me; perhaps the gene can go off when a young woman isn’t interested in someone new. Maybe this will have positive effects. There is still much work to be done. I am still hella confused by the attention I am currently receiving. But it is the summer; maybe everyone is just in heat. Pray for young men. Pray for them all.

I certify that I have read this dissertation and that, in my opinion, it is fully adequate in scope and quality as a dissertation for the degree of Doctor of Nigganatomy.