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Loni Love and Jeannine Amber - Love Him Or Leave Him, but Dont Get Stuck With the Tab: Hilarious Advice for Real Women

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Loni Love and Jeannine Amber Love Him Or Leave Him, but Dont Get Stuck With the Tab: Hilarious Advice for Real Women
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Contents This book is dedicated to my mother Momma Love for her guidance and - photo 1
Contents

This book is dedicated to my mother, Momma Love, for her guidance and wit, and for always steering me in the right direction.

And to my fans: the married women, single girls, baby mommas, and chicks on the side (because, hey, they need advice too).

INTRODUCTION I first felt the thrill of entertaining back in 1972 when I was - photo 2

INTRODUCTION

I first felt the thrill of entertaining back in 1972, when I was crowned Little Miss Detroit. At the pageant, I hit the stage in patent leather shoes and a starched pink dress, but I had so many braids in my hair that my tiara slid right off my head! When I bent down to pick it up, I slipped and landed on my behind. Everyone burst out laughing. But instead of feeling embarrassed I jumped up with a huge smile on my face. I realized that day that making people laugh makes me happy. In fact, its the very reason I left my job as an engineer to become an entertainer. Most people dont know I used to be an engineer. But I was the worst engineer in America. In fact, Id like to extend a personal apology to anyone driving a 1992 Cutlass (that was one of the projects I worked on before leaving the field to pursue my dream of being a comic). Theres only one thing I love as much as making people laugh, and its giving advice. Ask anyone whos received one of my Love Lessons and theyll tell you I have a special gift.

Ive always had a good head on my shoulders. I grew up in the Brewster-Douglass Housing Projects in Detroit during the height of the crack epidemic. The streets were filled with drug dealers and prostitutes. Coming up in such a rough environment, a girl had to be tough and street-smart to survive. I saw firsthand what happens to women who are foolish in love, or just plain foolish.

When I was a teenager, Peaches was one of my very best friends. Peaches had a smile that lit up her face, and she could do some hair! When we were seniors in high school, Peaches started dating a new guy from the neighborhood. Peaches would brag that her boyfriend was a businessman. I tried to tell her the truth, that her 16-year-old boo was slinging crack. But Peaches didnt care. Living in the projects could be depressing, and her boyfriend gave her a taste of the glamorous life, buying her clothes, taking her to fancy restaurants in downtown Detroit, and driving her around in a snow white Mercedes-Benz. I didnt want any part of what Peachess boyfriend was into, so I began to distance myself from my friend. This was a big sacrifice for me because Peaches would do my Jheri curl for free.

One night, I was doing my homework at about eleven oclock when I heard the blast of gunfire. It was common to hear shots fired in the projects, but that night was different. This sound sent a chill through my veins. A few hours later there was a knock at my door with a neighbor bringing the newsmy best friend Peaches was dead. Shed been sitting outside with her boyfriend when she was hit with a bullet that Im sure was meant for him. For all those occasions shed done my hair, I did hers one last time, for her funeral. She was only seventeen.

Peachess death taught me an important life lesson: too many women make sacrifices to be with men. Ive seen friends compromise their safety, dignity, money, and even happiness for the sake of a relationship. But Ive seen enough. Now Ive made it my personal mission to remind women that we need to put ourselves first. I learned this lesson, up close and personal, watching my single mother manage her dating life. After her divorce, my mother, Momma Love, had plenty of boyfriends, but she refused to take crap from anyone. I remember one time, one of her boyfriends, Mr. Herbert, was living with us, and Momma Love found out hed cheated on her with Miss Bernice, the Bible study teacher. The next day his clothes and his Bible were out in the trash. Her philosophy was: no woman has to put up with second-rate treatment; someone better will always come along. Never be a side dish, Momma Love would say. Always be the main course. Its a lesson I took to heart.

I remember the year my friends and I were all set to graduate from high school. All the girls in my class were losing their minds worrying about who was going to take them to the prom. They were getting together in the rec center after school for powwows and conferences like, If Jimmy doesnt ask me by end-of-day Wednesday, Im moving on to plan B and getting with the cousin of the friend of his brother, whos not as cute but has a nicer car. There were schedules, deadlines, backup plans, and emergency ditch plans should the night not go as planned. It was totally ridiculous. I told my friends, You need to worry about yourselves. Focus on your priorities, like how youre gonna pay for that prom dress.

I dont mean to suggest I didnt have my own share of boy trouble. Back then my boyfriend Mack was the love of my life. But I decided we werent going to have sex because I was saving myself for marriage. (Of course, that was before I realized I would be living in a coed dorm at college.) Even though I wasnt giving it up, Mack promised me he would take me to the prom, and I believed him. Well, a few weeks before the dance, Mack hooked up with my neighbor Tisha. Of course, I immediately dumped his cheating ass. But then I found myself with no date and a beautiful hoop dress that made me look like an extra from a production of Gone with the Wind. After a few days of being down in the dumps, I picked myself up and decided that me and my hoop dress would go to the prom alone. Thats when the phone rang. It was Macks best friend, Albert. Hed heard that Mack and I had broken up and was wondering if I would be his date for the prom. I can still remember the shocked look on Macks face when his friend Albert and I walked into the dance looking like a black Rhett Butler and his date, Hattie McDaniel. It was a perfect night and the moment when I first realized my mother was right: if you refuse to accept being treated poorly, something better will come along. There is no need to compromise who you are just to be with a man.

Because of my attitude and my confidence, I quickly became the girl who all the other girls went to for advice. I was the one who would listen to their problems and tell them what to do when they had nowhere else to turn. Love him or leave him, Id always say. But dont get stuck with the tab, meaning, respect and protect yourself so you dont end up with an STD, a broken heart, or a two-year friends-and-family data plan you cant get out of.

Twenty years later Im still spreading that same message to my fans. People see me on television, or they come out to my comedy shows, and they feel like they know me. People approach me in airports, in ladies rooms, and in the street, talking to me like were old friends. Like Im their long-lost sister. Like Im the one with the answers to all of their problems, even though weve never met.

One time a woman came up to me after a show, introduced herself as Alison, and said, Can I ask you something? I thought Alison wanted me to elaborate on my why-I-hate-anal-sex joke. I get that question a lot. Instead, she was seeking advice about her relationship with her husband. The two of them hadnt been intimate for five years. You seem like a really grounded person, she said. I really want your opinion. Although I was only half sober, I listened, considered her problem, and gave her the best advice I could: I suggested she try to spark the flame by trying some great sex tips Id picked up from my friend Lisa, who used to work in the business as a dancer, if you know what I mean. And if that didnt work, I suggested she try a sex therapist (I knew plenty of professionals to recommend, thanks to my friendship with Dr. Drew). And if that didnt work, I suggested Alison think about ending the marriage because she and her husband sounded more like friends than lovers and, I pointed out, her kitty cat wasnt getting any younger. After our talk, I could see the relief on Alisons face. It was as though all she really wanted was to hear someone tell her that her needs were important. As a thank-you she bought me a shot of Hennessy, and weve been friends ever since.

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