Hold up. I *know* y'all didn't think this ruckus would go down without a Tyrone Malone commentary did you? Man, y'all know me better than that! After all the books and radio shows and Oprah commentary on *brothers* being on the down low - look what the cat dragged in. Just in case a few of you neophyte readers think the 'reverse down low' is a tight little basketball move, stop, drop and roll your a$$ on over to the bookstore and check out a joint called On The Down Low: The Journey into the lives of "straight" black men who sleep with men. Matter of fact, Amazon is so cool they'll let you peep inside to cover to check out a few actual factuals like the Table of Contents which lists sample chapter names like "Was My Marriage a Lie?" and "She Can't Compete with Him". Hmmm, let me step out and take a shower right quick........okay I'm back. Dude and Dudettes - a quick clue: if you're stepping out on your spouse to have sex with someone of the same (or opposite) sex, the chances are really good your marriage is a lie (Stedman - homeboy you taking notes??). Okay, okay, technically Sheryl's situation doesn't exactly fit the 'down low' category per se, but it's still buck wild enough to warrant a blog breakdown. Meet me after the jump and let's get busy, y'all...
To officially get your 'down low' card (so I'm told) you have to like having sex outside your committed relationship with someone of the same sex *but* also love having a relationship (sexual and otherwise) with the one you're with. Don't look to me to explain the thought process behind that thinking - you're on your own. But in Sheryl's case it seems like she always enjoyed the company of woman in shorts but hooked up with her ex-husband and used him as convenient cover and a sperm donor (Stedman - homeboy, you taking notes?) while she moved and grooved on those long WNBA road trips. I gotta give it to homegirl, she played it like Eddie Murphy in Beverly Hills Cop II and went deep, deep, deep undercover. Just check out this beach glossy, y'all. Uh, uh, uh! That's deep undercover right there. Primping with the fellas and getting the viewers all heated and all the while trying to figure out how to back Lisa Leslie down into the low post. I was debating the situation with my boyz 'Tini Mack and Cat Daddy and all they could contribute to the conversation was a trifling statement about knowing that Sheryl would be on top when carnal knowledge kicked off. I swear I lose brain cells every time I talk to those jokers.
Anyway, all this brings to "Pinky" the plastic flamingo. When this glossy was taken back in the day, everyone thought it was a cute little take off on that 'roaming gnome' gag where a couple of chuckleheads kidnap a ceramic gnome from someone's flowerbed and take it on a world tour, snapping glossys along the way with folks willing to pose. But see - old Tyrone's too smooth to fall for that ruckus. I knew the minute I saw this glossy of Sheryl cozying up to poor Pinky something was a little off - but I just couldn't put my finger on it. Finally, one day as I was walking past the 'Boutique' just inside the foyer of the Admiral Club Theater on Lawrence (I was a designated driver helping my one of my boyz make it home safe and sound...). I peeped the products inside and it dawned on me - that joint was pink, long necked and stiff - damn if Pinky wasn't the perfect plastic manifestation of Rebecca Lobo and Sheryl had her hands *all* over it, jack! Shoot, y'all may need a billboard, but not me.
Yo Stedman - homeboy you taking notes? Let me know if you need a pencil to connect your own dots, dude! When the next bombshell drops - don't say old Tyrone didn't try to warn you...