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Archive for the month “October, 2012”

Confession Wednesday: I Kinda Like Planning Parties and Butterflies?

Hey folks.

What a week. I ran my first 5k ever, I seem to have lost 5 pounds, might have met someone who makes me feel all fuzzy, like may have the potential to put some fertilizer around my Grinch heart to make it grow again, and there was Hurricane Sandy.


GIFSoup

Oh boy.

I’ve been itchin to write the 5k post, but I need to take my time on that one, because I have some interesting thoughts and feelings on the whole experience, and this post may rival the infamous first Zumba class post that I wrote that actually led to me being Freshly Pressed, which still amazes me.

Even if I don’t get the same kind of love, I just want it to be good, because it was a great moment for me, and I can’t find the video clip of this car commercial that features audio texts that a woman gets after she ran a marathon and was limping back to her car. And I need that clip to really illustrate how crazy I was looking after the race when the adrenaline left the building.

So back to the confessions.

A good, good friend who I admire and love, her birthday is today. Halloween.

Since she’s taking her little one trick or treating, she has expressed that she’d rather celebrate over the weekend with a little get together at my home featuring our favorite “bad” movies and a little food and some sweets.

I’m all about it.

I instantly started looking up recipes for appetizers and have been in plan mode. It’s easy to get this way because, I love this person, but more and more I think I’m starting to realize that I do enjoy hosting and making sure folks have a damn good time.

I don’t do it often.

I don’t.

But when I do, I’m serious about it. And there is something about Fall and Halloween that make certain intimate gatherings even more fun and more intimate and you can have foods and drinks that warm you up and there’s just something about the hearth and home feeling you get. I really love Thanksgiving too. I secretly enjoy cooking when I don’t feel rushed and feeding people and having people like what I make. Oh so there’s another confession.

I have a feeling I’ll be shopping for goodies and surprises for my friend even though she said, not to make a big fuss.

So, she reads this blog.

Hunny, I’m going to go to the Dollar Store (the place where I go to stock up for all of my parties).  So see? No trouble at all!

Next confession.

This came out of no where as it often does.

I’m crushing on someone.

He’s younger. I’m usually anti younger, but he’s 28, that doesn’t count. Two years, ok. I can work with it.

The online wasteland actually coughed up something of interest.

He sends texts, but wait!

He actually calls, like we have conversations. Last night we talked from 9 p.m. til about 12:30 a.m. He even said, “Take your butt to bed, we gotta go to work tomorrow, but I don’t want to get off the phone.”

To which I replied, “Awww. I feel special.” I started singing that reggae song, “I’m so special.” I could feel him shaking his head through the phone as he kept saying, “Really?” “Really?”

I spared him from me doing this….

We have interesting conversations and we can even crack jokes. He gets my sense of humor and I think he’s pretty funny, which is crucial.

He seems smart, well-adjusted and has gone on enough of his share of bad dates too. We like the same types of music and he grew up in a religious family too.

He’s educated, seems to have a pretty good job, but he doesn’t lead with that.

Lives alone.

I actually like seeing his name in my phone. That’s a super good, good sign.

We have not set up a date yet, although he tried to convince me to ditch working online yesterday (while the rest of the east coast was off work, ahem) to join him at IHOP. Oh, I was tempted.

But I look forward to whenever we do actually hang out. I’m really hoping the chemistry is just as good in person.

This is refreshing, because I just never gave younger guys a chance. I did once, last year, he was 22. I was being absurd.

I gave him some and he wouldn’t leave me alone. Calling my house all times of night (typical college hours, but not grown employed folk hours).

So, I decided if months ago I could go 17 years older, what in the world is the harm of going two years younger?

I don’t want to get my hopes up. I don’t. But I can’t help but think, something is different about this one, which kind of by default is getting my hopes up.

Down hopes, down.

These are my confessions. Shhh. Don’t tell noooobody.

I leave you with some vintage Floetry. “Butterflies” Live!!!

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Real Things That Scare Grown Women– The Halloween Edition

James Barker/freedigitalphotos.net
Even though she had to get with Dracula, she’s a bride no less, and got a man, uh vampire. She was on it before Twilight and True Blood, just sayin…

So Halloween is upon us. You know.

Gobblins, the undead, Jason, blah, blah, blah.

I hate scary movies. My friends know this. They tend to screw with my mind well after the credits have rolled and every shadow, noise or what not puts me on edge. I know the stuff isn’t real, but , I just don’t get a kick out of being scared.

Me and my friends went to a really great haunted house once, and I won’t lie, my bladder gave in just a bit.

I ran enough to air dry, but I was like see, I paid $15 to trickle on myself. This ain’t cool. I also ended up bruised because my purse got stuck on one of the props, as I tried to escape in pure horror flick action. Why didn’t I lose a shoe like the busty, blondes in our favorite horror flicks.

Anyway, after thinking about the panic attack I had just walking into Babies R Us, and my preparing to go to another friend’s baby shower (yall know how I feel about babies, they scare the crap out of me. Carrying them, having them, being in charge of their maintenance to only have them grow up, not need me anymore and send me to an old folks home).

Just walking in there I only had one thought, “let’s make this quick, let’s get out of here.”

I’m the same girl who would be strolling along in the mall and as soon as I caught sight of Pea in a Pod or Motherhood Maternity, I’d literally hold my breath as I walked past the store, like little kids do when they pass a cemetery.

That’s just how real it is. Me and my friends send texts on Mother’s Day congratulating one another that we made it one more year managing not to be anyone’s mother and thanking all of the birth control and condom manufacturers.

Ok. So without further ado, I’m going to share with you my list of things that scare grown women, mainly of my kind–non married and without children. This list is in no particular order, by the way. It’s all bad.

1. Your mother looking hotter than you.  Good for mom, but awful for you.

2. A negative balance in your bank account.

3. You are on your period and the McFlurry machine is broken, or the folks simply say, “the ice cream machine isn’t working” What? Huh? Are you crazy? What do you mean it’s not working? I’ma call corporate. This is unacceptable.

4. They no longer make your favorite lipstick/foundation.

5. Gas station restrooms.

6. Public bathroom tampons.

7. Having to unclog your own drain.

8. Bugs of any kind.

9. Walking to your seat on the plane, and yup, you are sitting next to the creepy guy who can’t stop smiling at his good fortune.

10. Being that overzealous girl at the bouquet toss… Don’t be that girl. Don’t.

11. Online dating.

12. Blind dates.

13. Having to buy jeans in a bigger size.

14. Going to a new hair stylist.

15. Owing the IRS.

16. Being audited by the IRS.

17. You purchase hot, hot shoes and got two right feet and you are already back home.

18. You had a great date, yet he never followed up. Where did he go? Did he die? Witness protection?

19. You marry the wrong dude.

20. Gaining more weight.

21. 40-year-old women shopping in the juniors section.

22. Unhappy, married mothers.

23. When the boss says, “um we need to stay late.”

24. Going to the mechanic for an oil change.

25. Pap Smears and the doctor is looking at your junk for an extra long time saying, hmmmm.

26. When the mechanic asks you to step aside for a minute.

27. When your gyno wants to meet with you again once you’ve put your clothes on.

28. When you are this close to maxing out your card, but you get one…more…thing.

29. When you seriously start to think the Liz Lemon character is based on you.

30. When your friends seem happier than you and you’re jealous. Shame!!! Don’t be like that!

31. Finding out after all these years, you are allergic to something you love.

32. Any man over the age of 22 who says he doesn’t “eat.”

33. Any man who says he doesn’t have a job.

34. Any man who says, “you got this, right?”

35. Any man who suggests he move into your place. Not find a new place together, just move into your place.

36. Becoming a cat lady.

37. loneliness.

38. Slipping and falling in your tub, dying and being more afraid of being found naked than not being found at all.

39. Dark alleys.

40. Man boobs.

41. Saggy, female boobs.

42. Any kind of cancer.

43. Belly fat.

44. Stretch marks.

45. Grey hair.

45. When the college sluts, H.S. bitches, and unattractive booger-pickers manage to get married and you are still single, with no prospects whatsoever.

46. When you start pouring the french vanilla iced coffee at 7-11 and you run out at half a cup.

Addictive Tendencies

I’m watching myself as of late, because I’ve been on some addictive type stuff.

I love shopping, but I think I have a problem. I’ve been spending my lunch breaks buying stuff.

Last week, I bought two shirts one day, and a pair of shoes the next.

Today, I bought a clutch (but I’ve wanted this kind of clutch since last year and they never had the right color or style).

Like I’m not spending crazy amounts of money, but after a while it adds up.

My latest addiction is that stupid online dating site I signed up for almost two weeks ago.

I’m checking the stupid thing all day, even on my phone, draining the battery.

I must be bored. Most of these men, I’m not even interested in, but I’m digging the high I get from opening my mailbox everyday to like 20 guys.

Some of them, I’m actually sending messages to, and some of them seem kind of nice, or interesting.

But something tells me, I’m not really going to find that super dooper love connection.

Before, I was being very strict about men who are long distance since we know I’m the queen of that, and now, if the man seems like he’s got some sense, I’m willing to have a conversation.

What’s most interesting is, as some conversations are fading out and interest is waning, there’s always a new guy to start a new conversation with.

There they are. All laid out. Every time I log on, I hear Arsenio Hall’s voice in “Coming to America” where he tells Akeem, “apparently these are the best women Queens has to offer. Pick one and let’s go home.”

Pick One and Let’s Go Home

I keep hearing, “Pick one and let’s go home.”

I put myself out there and reached out to some guys who I thought were good-looking and had something decent to say in their profile, but I’ve not gotten any responses from those guys. I guess I’m not their type.

Side note: This dating site allows you to rate your level of attractiveness. Some of these fools really have the nerve to say stunningly good-looking.

I mean seriously, “stunningly”? Like damn, you got big ones.

I just put good-looking. I refused to put average and I certainly wasn’t nuts enough to put stunningly good-looking. I’ll let you decide that for yourself potential suitors.

Just wow. These dudes are a trip.

But that’s ok.

I’m restless, I cannot sleep, STILL! If any of you have any good suggestions for insomnia that do not include, NyQuil, child Benadryl, hot baths, orgasm, or sleepy tea (not saying these are bad, these are just the ones that have already been suggested), please let me know.

I had a huge cupcake today, and it was delicious. I was so tired after work yesterday, I did not work out and I had an hour nap. Just an hour. I figured I’d be able to sleep. No.

Still up til nearly two. I haven’t had a solid night’s sleep since last week.

One of my favorite addictions, Kyle Barker has been texting me. And he’s quite a temptation. Usually I stave off that temptation by not shaving and keeping my house a mess, so I’ll be too embarrassed to host him.

One of my good male friends, tells me if I give in now, what will my 11 months of celibacy be good for? What will it have meant?

But at this point, I’m wondering why am I still waiting? I mean, I know why. I want to be in a relationship that’s going somewhere. Wherever somewhere is…

So I’m back to square one.

Food, shopping, self-love, sleepless nights and online flirting.

This sounds horribly sad.

Horribly sad.

I am a real life Cathy comic.

Speaking of rockin single television women who I root for and love, if yall aren’t watching the Mindy Project, yall are friggin slippin. I LOVVVVE this chick.

Post Game Report: Tommy, You Ain’t Got No Job

Hey everyone.

Welp, I’ll give an update. So far in the last four days, I’ve managed to go on two dates and visit my fam and friends in New York and I’m exhausted.

Seriously, I’m strongly considering hoisting up my eyelids with toothpicks, if this coffee I picked up on the way into the office today won’t do the trick.

Your girl is tired.

But, I will say even though I had a lot of venom for the online dating site after the first debacle, I’ve met three nice guys.

(Why do I have the tune of three blind mice in my head?)

The crazy thing about these dates is the fact that they have really been impromptu, out of the blue, hey let’s go out, ok, let’s go. So I never had much time to prepare myself and get crazy, super glammed up, which I’m kind of happy about.

I mean, if you are going to dig me, you’re going to dig me right?

So date one was with what my mom affectionately calls an “airman.” That’s right people, God Bless America and the troops! I had snagged me a good ol chap from the U.S. Air Force.

I thought he was a nice guy. I thought he was pretty good-looking with a nice smile, when he did smile or laugh (I made fun of his serious face).

Did I feel major sparks? Eh, not so much. I can’t call it.

He may be the kind of dude where we’d have to go out a few more times before he’d really loosen up. I haven’t heard from him since the date, and I was a bit disappointed that he didn’t ask me to text him to let him know I arrived home safely. He did give me a nice hug. But throughout the evening, I really couldn’t tell if he was interested.

But date number two, oh.

That was last night and this man had no problem expressing that he thought I was gorgeous, and interesting and different I was and how he wanted to know what my ring size was.

Now, he was good-looking too. The convo was absolutely excellent and I never had that good a time in Chipotle to save my life. We were talking so much, that I didn’t finish my burrito bowl (a first) and it got cold.

We even continued the night shooting a little pool and getting more acquainted.

Here’s the rub.

There was a popular running joke/storyline for a character on the comedy t.v. show “Martin.” One of Martin’s best friends, Tommy, was well-dressed, well-spoken, but no one ever knew what he did for a living and he never disclosed what he did.

Well, this guy seemed to have done or is doing it all. In the span of our convo, he’s had a number of jobs, almost made the 2004 Summer Olympics, and aspires to get his pilot’s licence (but doesn’t want to be a professional pilot), wants to own his own plane by 40, is a musician, and the final gut punch was when he said he lived with his sister. I know a lot of people can’t afford to live by themselves. It’s a huge luxury.

Case in point: I was watching t.v. with my parents this weekend and a news story mentioned how more and more home builders are building homes for three generations and folks are snapping them up. My father asked me if that is something I would ever want to do with my future family and he and my mother.

I let out a huge laugh. And said, well you did it with your folks until you could buy a home, and I’m sure my kids would love having you two just a few steps away and it would save me money on childcare.

My father being so astute, laughed and said, “you didn’t answer the question.”

Anyway, it shouldn’t have surprised me that he didn’t have his own spot because he gave a long answer about what he did. So it seems, being a gifted musician, he does piano lessons, but that’s about it. And when he said he goes to the gym at 11 p.m. every night, it clinched it even more. “Tommy, you ain’t got no job.”

My heart sank as I walked to my car. There was something genuine and sexy about him. He seemed to be a dreamer. He told me that he liked to fix cars, and take things apart and challenge himself to fix it. He told me he could cook.

So for someone with all of these skills and talents, I guess he just can’t seem to do the 9-5 thing, and it’s not for everyone, I guess, but sheesh, I don’t know, yall. He’s highly interested.

Of course.

So I think the lack of for real solidified employment is what is preventing this seemingly nice, interesting man from having a serious relationship. But, it’s a big, friggin, deal.

Bachelor number three is tricky.

He is a New York City police officer. He is also good-looking. What I like about him is, he seems sensible and he makes his contact with me count. I missed having a phone convo with him Friday, because I was on my way to my date with the airman. So it will be interesting to hear his voice. He already has a tough job in one of Brooklyn’s most difficult neighborhoods, so I’m sure when he wants to chill, he wants to chill and have no drama in his personal life.

I said before that I hate NY men. However, I like texting him.

I’ve always said dating a police officer would give me chronic chest pains because I wouldn’t be able to sleep until I know he made it home safe every night.

I am quite interested in hanging out with him, when I go home for the holidays though. So yes, I am on my Carrie Bradshaw right now and of course, Kyle Barker hits me up asking how I’m doing…

But all-in-all this is actually turning out to be fun and it’s getting me out of the house.

I still refuse to take any of this seriously, but I do think it’s helping to open me up to new situations. So that’s a bonus.

Stay tuned. I’m sure it’s about to get interesting.

Addendum. ‘Fools Eliminate Themselves’

One of my closest and dearest friends told me years ago, that fools eliminate themselves.

Like just watch and listen and they will talk themselves out of your life, panties, etc., because they are so ridiculous, you just can’t fathom yourself dealing with them.

I’m going to tell the full story and hold myself accountable.

This dude I was supposed to be going out on a date with who I already figured was a hot mess, has been pressing me for a booty photo.

I have a wonderful plentiful butt. I get compliments on it. Fine.

He wasn’t satisfied with the lovely photos of my face. He just had to know if I had an awesome body.

I wasn’t going to do it. I haven’t sent booty pics in a few years, and when I did it was for long distance boyfriends who missed it like a best friend.

So basically there was a text exchange. He keeps calling me guarded and it’s so hard to get close to me.

Um, fool.

We talked on the phone for the first time ever in life last night. And sent a few messages.

Getting to know someone takes time. It just does.

I almost wish he’d cut the crap now and say,

I want to say all the things you want to hear, because frankly I want to smash. But because I think you are intelligent and classy, if I say that, I know you’ll shut me down.

I’m patient enough to bear with your Victorian prudish ass, because the most difficult ass is the most satisfying.

But no. He won’t do it.

So when I called him on it and said don’t make me out to be a Victorian prude we just talked yesterday, and one day does not a close relationship make, I get a voicemail.

This cat cancels our date and says we should postpone until it seems like I feel more comfortable… My translation: more open to the idea of letting him hit.

We have a control freak and a freak freak on our hands people.

This dude has a particular pace in his head of where he thinks this should be going if we are having good conversation and I guess this dude was thinking he was on pace to smack it, flip it rub it down within the next two weeks.

I won’t say I got played.

I laid all of this out in the previous blog. I knew he was ridiculous. I was just waiting for him to eliminate himself. I was waiting for him to lose his cover of being this nice guy who wasn’t a shallow gym meat head that couldn’t spell for shit. I wanted to show myself that my gut is right and to trust it from here on out.

So, I could either just fade him out.

Or call him back and let him know that I don’t think I’m the woman he’s looking for.

I’m fun. Ask my friggin friends. Fun as hell.

I can be crass.

I love Ghostface.

I can be sexual, downright nasty. Shameful. Ask my boyfriends and lovers.

But I’m not sharing any of that with someone after a few messages and a phone call.

He gave some sorry spiel about not wasting each other’s valuable time and he feels we shouldn’t force a date if I’m not all the way comfortable because he wants the date to be awesome.

Whatever. You want to get some.

Wanna see the messages we exchanged to end it all? I know you do. I love yall so.

Me: I got your message. I’m still at work so I didn’t want to call back. You are cool, but I don’t think I’m the woman you really want. I can be honest about that. I’m guarded for a number of reasons. I was engaged and it didn’t work out. I’ve worked hard on myself to heal. I haven’t had sex in a year and when I do, I want it to be epic and I want to be comfortable.

I think you have a very clear vision of where you want things to go and i applaud your ability to do that. I don’t think I’m going to get on your pace in a time frame that is satisfactory to you. So it’s ok if we don’t hang. I enjoyed talking to you, but the more I think about it, you don’t want the kind of girl I am. I’m just me and I accept that.

Him: You see me? I’m Hot! Prudes are no fun, holler at me when you want to relax and get acquainted. boo.

Him: I’m bored. I won’t give you my attention anymore. Good bye. Next… lol.

Me: And there it is! Thank you.

Him: No fun! And your prudish. LOL Peace.

Him: Be good and take care. Your very prudish.

Him: Date women ma. I’m gone. Like the last guy now. Learn to act right, really?

Me: Thank you for confirming who you are and what you are about. I shared something honest about myself to give you some insight and you are carrying on like you are. It’s ok. It’s clear, I’m not your type. We can end the convo.

Him: What am I doing? You’re not even sexy! Geze! Yuck! Prude girl with no ass! Lol

Him: I’m too cute for you. now that I really look closely to you. Do your hair and hit the gym boo, peace.

I think in his texts, this fool went through all of the stages of grief in less than 15 minutes. That has to be a record.

Welp. Here we go. I’m back in the dating world. I didn’t even have to go get a drink to get that dose of cold water to the face.

Who’s next?

Years ago, if this would have happened, I would have tried to prove to this man just how cool I was and how prudish I was not and I would have been miserable.

I dodged a bullet and a potential STD on this one. Go me.

This is progress.

I’m cured.

I could have pretended that I’m above doing stupid things and I’m better than letting a man like this even have some of my time, but I wrote this blog to hold myself accountable and to keep record that I don’t have to put up with anyone’s shit and that I should always trust myself above all else, because I’m right. What I feel is correct.

Back In the Game: Returning to Familiar Territory

It was a perfect storm.

Being bored, the temperature getting colder, the restlessness, the loneliness, the need to just take a risk and just open myself up–

It all led me to joining an online dating site.

So I may be having a date tonight. May be meaning if it happens, cool, if it doesn’t which tends to happen too, I won’t get bent out of shape because earlier this week I didn’t expect to be going out on a Thursday night and I’m going to a political fundraiser tomorrow evening with some friends who plan to introduce me to a guy tomorrow.

Feast or famine. Yes, I know.

Talked to a guy last night on the phone, and in pure me fashion, my fascination with assholes led me to the precipice.

He’s almost everything I can’t stand and get a bit excited by all at once. You’d think I learned my lesson in 1999, 2003, 2010, 2011.

He’s from NY. The city.

God. That’s already wrong. I’ve mentioned in previous posts how I don’t like dating men from NY even though I am a New Yorker myself.

The grown woman in me is saying, why are you even bothering with things you said you don’t want. It’s counterproductive and just ridiculous. Stand up.

The bored, lonely chick taking up residence in my brain is like, you’ve been bored as shit and you’ve tried the men who were safe and supposed to make sense and they didn’t move you either. You peaced out on them. At least be entertained in the interim.

This guy’s a fast talker, he’s slick. He’s preoccupied with his looks for sure. I can’t tell if he’s a shyster or a salesman. Please refer to Jody’s mother, Juanita from the movie Baby Boy on the difference.

“Are you trying to be a salesman or a shyster? You buy from a shyster, you feel like you got took. You buy from a good salesman and you feel lucky.”

He went to my university and hated it.

Another red flag.

At first, I wasn’t going to hear any of it. To me, if you went to my school and hated it, you didn’t try hard enough, you were narrow-minded, or you thought you were better than everyone else or you just had a screw loose.

Talking about my university in a negative light is damn near like cussing my mother.

But I listened. The interesting thing is, his gripes were valid and things he said, I couldn’t disagree with. It’s just not for everyone, and he basically admitted that every situation is different and he had certain expectations and was really surprised and let down. I gave him the rundown on my experience and he took in what I said.

Ok. Fine.

Strangely, he made me laugh which always puts me in good graces. In some ways he reminded me of my close boys from home who I can talk openly with about all sorts of things and make off-color jokes and be comfortable.

Also strangely, I do believe he was sincere when he was talking about the scene here in D.C. and how he can’t stand it and the other places he’d rather hang out. That’s an issue that’s near and dear to me, but I still think this guy works a situation with politician-like acumen, and will push a situation to see how far he can go. Interestingly enough, if you tell him no, he tries to push, but when you are firm, he backs down but won’t pout and get all silly.

I was testing for that last thing specifically. I don’t mind people testing boundaries with me in terms of flirtation or what they can and cannot say. But once I’ve said what I am or am not comfortable with, that’s where I am with it and don’t put me down or belittle me because you didn’t get what you wanted. I honestly expected him to act that way, so I could weed him out.

He didn’t.

That spoke volumes and helped his cause a great deal.

I find it funny this guy keeps thinking I’m highly conservative. I can be, but I do know how to have fun, but I feel like it’s a layer you have to earn to get to.

Going on a date with him will be like splashing cold water on my face. A jolt, a little refreshing and necessary to wake up.

I’m either going to dig him, or I’m not. Or he will strengthen my resolve to leave the assholes I love so much alone for good, or renew me for another year of the ladies association of asshole appreciators , Maryland Chapter.

This dude loves taking pictures of himself. At his desk, in the bathroom, at the gym. He has no lack of self-esteem and I think he’s attractive, but not the typical attractive I go for. More horrible signs of what I don’t like.

The strange thing is he seems really interested, and I’m surprised because of how shallow I kind of assumed him to be.  I like the fact he’s trying to prove he’s not shallow. And as I said, there are some hints of things I really respect in the way he’s expressed some things during discussion.

He is blunt.

He is self-aware of his asshole tendencies and even self-described himself as a prick.

So you all are asking. Why? We read your blog. You are a lovely girl, you’ve dated jerks before, you know how this goes down. You already have a good list that gives you plenty of cause to shut this down.

I have a curiosity problem and an ego. My ego is actually bigger than I let on. For some reason I get a kick out of getting under the skin of these types of men, just to prove to them they aren’t a slick as they think they are. Kyle Barker, a guy a referred to in a previous post is the only guy that seems to be winning the war in this regard. Haven’t cracked him, but I stay on his mind. We’ll have to call it a draw for now.

Not even two weeks ago, I was growing bored with a nice guy. So I need to cure myself back to reality by spending time with a prick to help me refocus.

This is twisted logic. I agree.

The other point, which is really the main point of all of this is basically to warm my self up for the real war. It’s official, I’m dating again. This is going to be suckie, and it’s going to be fun. But it’s a war. This date is a small battle to prep me for the rest of the tour.

I’m doing this on purpose to remind myself, I can’t take this dating stuff seriously and that whatever happens, is going to happen and I can’t walk into this assuming every man I meet is going to be the one. I’m doing this for you all. Because, you best believe I’m going to have some great material. Hang on to your socks.

It’s about to get real.

Online Dating and My Interesting Two Days Of It…

After a few glasses of wine and some silly girl conversation, a friend convinced me to join an online dating site. I signed up for three months and after about 48 hours, I’m already over it.

I tried to tell myself be open-minded, to give people a chance, but most of these men are hideous.

If they are good-looking, they are primping and posing with no shirt on, and I don’t want them either. Or they have 3 or 4 kids. Like they are 26, and have 3 and 4 kids.

I’ve already been yelled at and put down because I don’t want to give my number just because they said my photo was pretty. I’ve been told I am immature and playing games because I’m not ready to give my full first name, after I already said up front I don’t want to until I feel more comfortable exchanging more messages. I feel that I have a unique name and because of what I do for a living, folks can look me up and find out a lot of information. Excuse me for knowing stranger danger is real.

Then I have guys who are 24 years old grilling me about my life plans and successes and aspirations because they are super ambitious and their latter 20s, which are truly humbling years haven’t happened yet. They are so excited about just completing college and so proud of that, it’s like they are really trying to quantify my success and measure it by their scale.

No me gusta.

It’s flattering at first. All of the pings and the men saying they think you are pretty, beautiful and stunning even. I think a couple hundred men have viewed my profile in just two days and about 90 of them have actually tried to reach out.

Most I weren’t interested in, but it gave me a high. I kept checking the site to see who else admired me and actually wrote to me in their own words instead of using the stock responses.

But if I see another profile talking about how they don’t want to deal with drama, or they are drama-free, or how they don’t want to play games, they want women and not little girls, I’m going to scream. These men are regurgitating the same crap over, and over and over again. Those are what I call the “drinking game words and phrases.”

This truly has offered a number of lessons in social anthropology and psychology.

Some of the arrogant men want to pick me a part and almost make me prove I’m worthy to talk to them. It seems that a lot of these men are defensive and sensitive and jaded. I really thought they had more options. Or these men are just the losers of the world. I can’t call it. I’m already having ptsd because now I’m super careful of everything I say if I choose to write a man back and I feel I have to explain why I don’t want to give my name, number and address off the top.

You would think having a pick of hundreds of profiles would help me narrow down the field. Only two men have seemed remotely interesting, but there’s still something about both that leave a sour taste in my mouth. I may go out with one of them.

Now men I don’t even know and have never seen in person can be rude? Or too pushy? Or send me poems already? It’s almost laughable that I almost got into an argument with one man who just really had to have the last word and continue to berate me.

Then I had to realize, hol up. I can just delete this fool. Why am I getting bent out of shape?

Delete.

This is supposed to be fun right?

This isn’t where I’m going to meet my husband, this is just a place to meet folks in the meantime, so why the hell do I care?

Because I do want to meet my husband someday and not think the perfect man for me was actually killed by a drunk driver last night.

I have a feeling that I’m not going to survive the three months, because I’m not feeling this online dating. Maybe I should have chosen another site, but I was just encouraged to try something and get out there.

I think I’m going to go back to the drawing board and just start putting more effort into my outfits, hair and make up every time I go out.

For some reason I feel like online dating was a lot more fun in college. I actually used it to either talk to guys at my college who I was nervous to approach in person, or meet guys from my college I would have never otherwise met. It was great. Everyone seemed more attractive and with far less baggage.

Online dating now, it’s a whole other story. I feel like I’m in a virtual rehab facility/halfway house where people are still recovering from bad situations, relearning how to integrate into society.

So what does that say about me?

Am I desperate?

Am I lazy?

Am I now ugly and uninteresting where when I go out, quality men (who I like in return) just can’t see my aura and gravitate to me.

At the urging of my home girl from the illustrious Kiss and Hide blog, I picked up a book that claims to help you get to your soul mate in seven weeks. It’s called, “Calling On the One.”  Now I don’t know if my soul mate will come a calling six weeks and six days later, but the author is speaking some serious truth about self work. And I’m about that.

I will agree, that when you open yourself up, when you are honest with yourself and real about your limitations, but play up your strengths, you will give off a certain confidence, you’ll reevaluate what’s important and that will open you up to looking at the people around you differently, and maybe even your guy will be closer than you think or someplace you didn’t expect.

Right now, I’m a dog chasing my tail.

I’m dangerously close to throwing nearly a year of celibacy out the window for a guy who turns me on like nobody’s business but has no interest at all in a real relationship.

So I press on.

I don’t think I’ll check for my messages as frequently, because at day three, this crap is already getting old, and I’m getting older too…

Okay, I am impatient and acting like a child with a Christmas toy, but I’m sorry, I can tell already this is wack.

Someone give me some encouragement. Stick it out for the three months and occasionally check the emails and accept a date or two? Make the best of it? Or call it quits now?

What say ye?

Motivation Is the By Product of Healthy Jealousy

Many moons ago, before any of you even heard of my blog or started reading it, I did an early post about how high-achieving friends can either make you feel absolutely crappy about yourself, and you can secretly hate them and let that hate and jealousy fester inside you, or you can sail on their tailwinds, watch and learn how they navigate life and get you some of that too.

Now, I don’t mean be a leech. But I do mean really take a look at how they approach life, the things they want and their motivation behind the things that they want. What do they care about? Are they happy? How do they maintain the happy? How do other people respond to them?

The people I know who are doing well at life, are a) just living it.

They are, in my mind fearless. But I’m sure they have their own insecurities and struggles, but they make things happen. They take a deep breath, swallow hard, and just go.

b) they are good people and everyone can feel it.

No one is a stranger. I get baffled at how there are some friends of mine, where I could be in any city with them anywhere and either they know people or the new people they meet fall in love with them, or they know some mutual friend like six degrees of Kevin Bacon.

c) they have a moral compass that guides them and they stick to it.

There are certain things that they just won’t do. Or if something ain’t workin, they let it the hell go and figure out a new plan, but they won’t sell their soul. And if they sold their soul, they are going to admit it. Then when they do, I tell them it’s ok, it was only a lease, you’ll get it back.

d) they are actually playing it by ear. I guess that’s a lot like the first item on my list.

e) they refuse to limit themselves.

The friends who decide they want to leave the country for a while and travel internationally, the friends who go back to school, go back again, start a business, fail start another, decide to join the circus or fix babies in foreign countries with cleft lip. They just say screw it, I’ma follow my heart.

f) they have a past and usually it’s juicy or very weird and totally interesting.

g) they tend to be the least judgemental out of everyone else you know. Hmmm. That makes me think. The most judgemental people I know tend to be the ones who haven’t gone anywhere, haven’t tried anything, don’t have different kinds of friends. I guess that makes sense.

So, in my long-winded intro, the inspiration from this post comes from what I call a tennis match between two friends I know, who I introduced at a concert last night. Both are serious world travelers and are actually a lot a like in terms of just having magnetic personalities. Naturally, they hit it off.

Others would think it was a pissing match of who’s seen what all over France, but oddly, a gal who’s only been to Canada and Mexico, did not see it that way.

I saw people bonding over a shared experience, and fueling my appetite to go, so I can have an awesome time and swap a story or two also. I didn’t feel left out, I didn’t feel like they were elitist. Their excitement wasn’t bragging to me because my spirit didn’t allow it. They were my friends, and it makes me happy that my friends can even do things like that. It was a nudge, saying, “Girl, you better get you some too. We did it, so can you, or better yet, what are you waiting for, let’s go!”

One of the friends, was actually cool with the artist and afterwards, we got to chill and chat!!! I was proud of myself for keeping my cool, even though to even be in the presence of super-talented, super cool people, it makes you wonder if everything you said is corny once it comes out of your mouth. It did make me feel better when he laughed at my jokes while sucking the marrow out of a chicken wing (just like a normal person). I even got a hug at the end of the night. I also love when celebrities introduce themselves and use their first name, like dude, I just paid $40 to see you. I know who you are, but it was still cool, and nice, and polite nonetheless. I guess I’d be pissed if he shook my hand and said, “You paid $40 to see me, you know my name already.”

Even in that moment, I thought I was totally blessed. I know great people who share their gifts and talents and even their celebrity friends. Yes, I walked back to a now 12-year-old car with tape holding up a window that is off track (next on my list to fix), but damn it. It was all good.

You all know I’d been feeling crappy about my lot in life recently.

And hearing my good friends talk about their travels in Paris, and their jobs, and their disillusionment with D.C. and how they do want to make a difference in the lives of others, then flip it back to hip hop and street slang, then talk about how it was such a shame we missed the Vice Presidential debates, I was back in my element. I felt life rushing back into my spirit.

You need at least one super awesome talented friend who leads an amazing life.

And you probably have one.

There’s a fellow blogger who is a friend in my head. She writes a blog called, “The Usual Bliss.”

I kind of lust for her life. It seems the complete opposite of mine and that’s what makes my attraction to her blog so fascinating to me. It’s filled with travel, love, her man and her faithful wonderdog. She’s always either whipping up awesome food, and traipsing through nature’s beauty mostly in Utah and other parts of America, that I really never thought I’d want to visit. (I’m no nature girl. At all. Think the little black girl from Troop Beverly Hills.)

But she’s really got this black chick from Long Island itching to get a ticket to Park City. I’m so serious. I told one of my adventurous homegirls that we got to go.

She usually takes a bunch of snapshots from her life and she just shares them. She’ll write about some of her adventures or recipes, and her pending nuptials (so awesome happy for her). Whether it’s a glass of wine sitting on a table, or her dog chasing something across a calm stream, or a photo of her hanging with her very best people, her words and photos really make you feel like you’re spending time with a friend. She’s made me think of  going to places like West Virgina to see the leaves change one weekend. I totally dig and get her point. You’ve got to stop and find the bliss in the little things.

I don’t even know her personally, but I can bet she lives by the list of things I mentioned the friends I’m jealous of in a healthy way live by.

I just thank God, I didn’t have a spirit of, “wow, my life sucks compared to yours, “but instead, “wow, I need to figure out a way to travel internationally, like now,” or, “maybe instead of killing myself to find a job in this area, maybe I should widen my net.” I’ve moved before, and it’s opened me up to so much.

Instead of comparing and sulking and assuming their lives are better, I used that moment to be opened up to more possibilities.

That’s a huge gift my über awesome, successful, smart, connected, caring friends gave and continue to me. I’ll always love them for that.

I smiled all the way home, listening to the C.D. of the wing-sucking, light-hearted, nerd at heart (we discussed number 2 pencils, mechanical pencils and how they suck and made up periodic elements and whether or not he makes fun of people in the audience in his head while performing) musician I’d just met, who thought my “black nerds unite” shirt was awesome.

Then I thought, “Shit. I should have worn a shirt I DESIGNED!”

P.S. Aside from the Sister Act 2 Fundraiser featuring Whoopi singing “Get Up Off That Thang.” “Cookie Time” from Troop Beverly Hills (featuring the sassy little girl I mentioned earlier) is one of the best fundraising scenes in a motion picture film.

It’s Friday. I’m feeling generous! I’ma give yall a bonus. “Get Up Offa That Thang/Dancin In the Street.”

Turn Around

One of my most favorite songs lyrically is a song by an artist by the name of Donnie. In his album, The Colored Section (2003) there is a peppy little tune, that totally makes me think Stevie Wonder is singing along called “Turn Around.”

The song is simple. Donnie is professing his love for a chick who has no interest in him.

He has all this love to give and he sings about how wonderfully he’ll treat her and all she has to do is simply turn around instead of chasing someone else, who is basically doing the same thing to her– not turning around to see how great she’s trying to convince her object of affection she is.

It’s the silly circle DMV line/waiting room of love most of us find ourselves in.

We pine for someone who either isn’t ready, or just isn’t interested, while someone is pining for us, chomping at the bit to prove to us why we should give them a chance. Usually, we don’t or if we do finally turn around, we either see what the person was trying to show us all along, or we settle, or we still keep ignoring their pleas for our affections and remain at the mercy of whomever we have googly eyes for standing ahead of us.

I love this song and the lyrics because basically all of the characters are simultaneously in the other person’s shoes.

Whenever I hear the song, I see Donnie, the girl and the other dude walking in a line. Donnie is jumping up and down and singing his heart out, while the girl ahead is running after some other dude, and the dude is ignoring them both.

Then I swap those people out and I put myself in the girl’s position, some poor guy who really liked me, and some guy that I can’t seem to shake in the other positions.

Oooh, one more swap came to mind! Myra, Steve Urkel and Laura Winslow.

Steve did try to turn around and he held it down with Myra for a while, but he couldn’t shake Laura. And poor Myra loved her some Steve before Laura had her aha Turn Around moment. This is a great scene where Steve finally puts Laura in her place.

Either way you get the point. “The Colored Section” came out well after Urkel and the Winslows faded to black from primetime television, but I can’t help but wonder if Steve and Laura and Myra were his inspiration. LOL… (Check Myra trying to appeal to his love for Polka music here.)

*I posted the blog, but realized, it would be silly not to show the clip where the ultimate Turn Around of all time takes place. Laura says yes! Steve’s speech is dope.

“You’ve got your back turned to me. You’re searching for the love of somebody else. They’ve got their back turned to you, they’re searching for the love of somebody else. I take a quick look behind, I see a line, but I just pay them no mind. I wish the fool in front of you would disappear so you could…(can’t figure out the rest).”

Clever, clever, clever, Donnie.

Impromptu Poetry: Infinite Thoughts, Light and Darkness

Lost in thought.

Falling, falling, flailing.

One thought populates thousands more.

More questions asked.

None answered.

Then for a moment, I drift.

Drift away to someplace better.

I’m bathed in yellow sunlight, chasing an imaginary lover through a field of bright light. The smell of fresh linens hanging on a clothes line.

Sade’s “Kiss of Life” absorbs the air.

His kisses linger like Sade’s breathless, effortless, lilt.

I’m dancing. I’m free. My body is a flame.

Suddenly, I’m falling again, like that Twilight Zone intro, falling into darkness, with wild objects floating past my head, getting that feeling you get when an elevator drops a little to fast for your liking.

This world, this thought is not like the other.

I’m a prisoner.

My soul is in a vice grip, being slowly tightened.

I can see a light way above my head.

A tiny dot.

As if I’m placed in a box, by some evil giant who kept me as a pet and poked a hole in my box. My only source of light and air.

I am stuck, yet I hate having the knowledge that there is something indeed on the other side. Then maybe I could peacefully just live in the box, without a worry.

It is only a box and not a wall. I could even poke a big enough hole to escape, but instead of just a giant looking at me, I’d be exposed to the grander world I know exists, but the giant holding me hostage too.

I snap out of that dream and I see my family. I see loved ones I’ve lost. I remember how hard they worked and what they valued most.

“Love Never Fails” is what is written on the tombstone shared by my slumbering grandparents.

“Love Never Fails”

God is love.

“God Can Do Anything But Fail” says a sign in the church I grew up in.

God is love. Love Never Fails. God Never Fails.

God is in me. Love is in me. If those things never fail, and those things are inside of me, failure must be man-made and man-made things can be broken.

What do I choose to believe?

I want to go back to the sunlight dream, but sunlight always has it’s time and must pass into darkness to return again. Vibrant. A reminder, light and life return after darkness. It shall return. It must return.

Even my nightmares and dreams take their turns with me, one reminding me of the power of the other and how both are essential to each others existence.

I can’t stay permanently in the sunlight dream, and I can’t permanently stay in the giant-guarded prison either.

This too shall pass.

This too shall pass.

 

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