Sometimes I wish I could make them see why having a man in my life isn't my cup of tea. I mean, if only they saw things from my viewpoint, I won't get the side-eye or more prying eyes who think I'm the problem. Yikes! When it comes to having a man you can call yours, many things come to mind. I'll tell you what comes to mine. Chaos. Drama. Lies. A whole lotta talk and not enough action. A man, to me, can't lead me nowhere, 'cause half the time he can't even lead his damn self. Now, before you roll your eyes, nah - this ain't no "I hate men" book. This is my story. This is me telling you why men just ain't for me, and I have 365 reasons to prove it. You don't gotta agree, but I bet some of these reasons gonna hit home for you too. I grew up in Chicago. And if you know anything about this city, you know it'll raise you fast, even when you are still supposed to be a kid. My mama used to throw these house parties - music bumping, smoke in the air, bottles everywhere. I'd sneak out of my room, sit at the top of the stairs, and just watch. Watch the men in the living room play cards, drink hard liquor, and talk slick. Watch the women laugh, dance, and then get disrespected like it ain't nothing. By the time I was ten years old, I had already decided something: men ain't shit. Harsh? Maybe. But when you grow up seeing what I saw, it gets hard to unsee it.