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What if Whitley married Senator Douglas?
My first glimpse of college did not come from a tour of the local campus or from the nostalgia of a baby picture of me wrapped in a certain school’s sweatshirt. I first experienced college life while watching reruns of NBC’s hit sitcom A Different World.
A spin-off from the wildly popular The Cosby Show, the story line centered on two college students trying to find their way through life and adulthood while attending fictitious Hillman University. Main characters Denise Huxtable and Dwayne Wayne (Lisa Bonet and Kadeem Hardison) dated but Denise never warmed to Dwayne’s goofy and loving personality. Following Bonet’s departure from the show, writer’s shifted focus to a budding relationship between Dwayne and spoiled Southern Belle Whitley Gilbert (Jasmine Guy).
Fast forward a few years later and Whitley and Dwayne were getting married, but Dwayne’s uncertainty halts their impending nuptials. As with most shows, their relationship was strained to boost ratings and enter Whitley’s dream man here, Senator Byron Douglas (Joe Morton). A melting pot of ambition, status, passion, and stamped with her family’s approval, the Senator made Whitley’s every wish a reality. Throw in a few episodes of her trying to work alongside Dwayne on the good Senator’s campaign trail, not to mention the cheating episode where she slept with Dwayne and lied to the Senator and you have quality programming at its best!
Whitley’s dream was to marry a man who would support her, mostly financially since her world revolves around money, and who better fit than a Senator? Leading up to the ceremony, it seems that we’d seen the final chapter in the Dwayne/Whitley saga. That is until this moment. Click here: Dwayne’s Proposal
But, what if it never happened?
What if Whitley rejected Dwayne’s passionate and shocking (and completely disrespectful if you were apart of the Douglas family) request?
If she had, she would have every tangible item her little heart ever feigned. The status she desperately sought would be hers. The months we spent watching her live in poverty, selling her clothes for rent money and wearing the same dress twice in one week would be erased because the Senator provided her every wish. If Whitley had married Senator Douglas, she would have made the practical decision—marrying for financial stability instead of marrying for love. But is it that easy to choose practicality when your heart is elsewhere?
Let us consider the positives first. Money. Whitley would have the life she was accustomed too. She would never want for anything. She could waste money on frivolous things better than Diddy and the entire Bad Boy legion circa 1998! Bad Boy Production complete with flying money, literally!
Status. Country clubs, spa days. Whitley would be one of the top Trophy Wives.
And would you blame her? Guilt her? Or fault her for making such a decision? Sure you would, but would it matter? No. She wouldn’t even notice you on the other side of her $3,000 Louis Vuitton sunglasses. (Hey, Tamar!!)
Maybe it would have been better for her to refuse both men and become a single Black woman in America.
Angela Stanley shares her views on what it means to be “Black, Female and Single” in this New York Times op-ed. (Link to “Black, Female and Single”). I agree with her assessment of the modern Black woman’s quest for higher education and the decreasing population of Black men on college campuses across the nation. How are we supposed to find “Mr. Right” between writing 15-page research papers, studying for our Anatomy practicum, and running BSU? Not to mention coordinating the student/faculty mixer and spending atleast 25 hours at our work study jobs. But, Whitley didn’t have that problem so back to the drawing board.
Now, on to the negatives. If Whitley had decided to marry Senator Douglas, she might be the Black version of Will & Grace’s Karen Walker (Megan Mullally). Karen Drinking There is a growing number of alcoholic Stepford wives in our society who have yet to reach their individual potential because they swim to the bottom of any available wine bottle and reside there for months, years, decades.
Boredom. Whitley spent 20 years being spoiled and living a privileged life. We watched her evolve from dependent to independent, snobby to socially engaged, ignorant to intrigued, naïve to worldly. To deny her personal developments and revert back to the Whitley of old would only do her a disservice.
Surely, from a financial and economical standpoint, Senator Douglas is the better choice on paper, but no one could love her quite like Dwayne. He didn’t just love her; he understood her and all of her quirks. If you ever watched the show, you know she had several. Maybe Whitley realized that while standing in front of her family and friends. Maybe, in a flash, she saw the next 50 years of her life and knew that no matter what, as long as Dwayne stood by her side, money and status would never amount to the bliss they’d have together.
Like Ms. Stanley, I’m living the single life. In due time, my Dwayne will show his face. I’m not going on a quest for him and I’m not going to activate a beacon with his sign and I’m definitely not going to gather a group and try to summon him with potions, spells, and other tricks. As the lyrics go, “What will be, will be.” Just look at Whitley’s situation. You can head to the church with the intention to marry a Senator and end up leaving married to a dedicated and ambitious schoolteacher.
Feel the love here: Whitley & Dwayne – the saga
I’ve been playing this song since February.
I don’t know if the hard-hitting seductive beat captured me more the first time I heard it, or if it was J. Cole’s nonchalant delivery opposite Miguel’s passionate crooning. Either way, I was hooked midway into the first verse.
If you’ve ever feigned for one person, you can relate to this song. If you ever wanted to experience someone physically and were never able, you can relate to this. The gift of fantasy is really symbolized in this song because the song is about the one who got away. The one who keeps you up at night because anticipation “is the purest form of pleasure.” Or so they tell me.
I mean, think about it. Before you ever went on a date with someone or even held a conversation with him/her, there’s a window where all you have is your anticipation, your curiosity. The mind is a powerful entity, so powerful in fact that you have all of these thoughts about what will happen, what could happen, what you want to happen, what you want to feel, what you want to do, over and over that you build the perfect vision before you really know the other person. You don’t know if they shower on a regular basis, if they are married, if they have ten kids holed up somewhere, if they’re clinically insane, if they are freaky or more conservative, if they are taking STD antibiotics, and truthfully you don’t care. You’ve made up your mind about the type of lover they are, the type of lover you want them to be and are not open to deviate from your prototype.
I’m guilty of the same. When I first heard the song, I started to think about my past crushes, the guy who first made me dinner, the other guy who wrote me poetry, and even the other guy who would look at me and within an hour we were at his place. But, the kicker out of everyone is the mysterious, sexy guy who never made it out of the Friendzone. He’s the guy who used to have me on a power trip. The thoughts and dreams of what we could have experienced together used to haunt me in college. After graduation, we tried to see if we could make something happen beyond the sensual hugging and harmless flirting but something would always happen—a fight breaking out, one of us had a significant other, etc. etc.
Maybe certain things between two people just aren’t meant to exist outside of our dreams. Maybe we’re supposed to crave that which we don’t know and can’t experience because the fact that it’s unattainable makes it that much sweeter. Maybe the pundits are right; maybe reality would be too boring. Maybe he doesn’t shower, has been married for five years, working on their third child, has PTSD, is freaky, and got Chlamydia last week from his office secretary. Who wants to know all of that anyway? He just smiled at you from across the room and it’s not like you want to go to the altar tomorrow, right? So go on and enjoy your daydream where he sneaks you into the wine cellar at the party and starts to explore your assets. “Constant drinkin’ and love songs” should keep you occupied for the next three to four minutes. Repeat as needed.
For your viewing and listening pleasures, courtesy of GotHipHop.com, live from Barclays Center in New York, Power Trip (LIVE)
**It’s not the best quality, but you’ll live. Let the video load first, then play it. Trust me, you’ll be less frustrated in the long run. Watch J. Cole. Around 3:20, he’ll give you the laugh you needed for this Monday.**
Read along here: power trip lyrics
My mouth said no but my hand slid his traffic light into my intersection. Haven’t worn a seat belt in three months, just to see if he would tell me to put it on. Knowing that he wouldn’t, but praying that he might surprise me I asked him to wear his, just for a little while. He said ok but didn’t move to find one. I loved to fly, so I didn’t press the issue. Caught up in the heat of 160 mph, we flew across the 105, to the 110, and just as we were about to hit the 710, I saw the caution sign and remembered that neither of us had on seat belts. I pulled over and we kept the car running. After a deep discussion with the steering wheel, which lasted a maximum of thirty seconds, we were back on the freeway. Dipping in and out of traffic, we made lane changes that would make the manliest biker blush. His gentle change signals were mesmerizing. I followed right behind him. When we ran out of freeway, we took to the streets and set them ablaze. We sped up at yellow lights and ran through red ones until they blended with the green. The ride was thirst quenching. It was undeniably satisfying. After we came home, the caution light from before sent guilt shooting through my body. I was scared that the camera lights we ran weren’t broken and that tickets would already be in our mailbox. Miraculously, our escapade was not logged in the DMV’s records, or so I thought. A few months after our driving journey, it came. There it was, a lasting document to compliment our memories for a lifetime. My worst dreams came true. On the picture, the light had just turned red and both of us were unprotected. The fine was $1,000 and the un-used seat belts resulted in food, clothing, nurturing and shelter for at least eighteen years.
Now, when we leave the house, we buckle three.
secondset 