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Archive for the month “June, 2013”

Patience, Lil Sista

In the movie “Dreamgirls” there is a song called “Patience.” I believe it’s written by the super sexy R&B singer Tank, but that’s neither here or there.

The chorus says, “Patience lil brother, patience lil sister…”

One of my dearest friends often texts me that when I’m going off the deep end and when I want something so badly and I’m just being absurdly impatient.

I’ve mentioned before in this blog, that when it comes to matters of the heart, I go all in. I get so wrapped up with my feelings and how good everything is feeling that I can mash the gas.

Sometimes I have trouble letting things marinate.

Online dating has made my need for a packet of instant relationship go into overdrive. But my reaction to this new guy has made me really chew on my homeboy’s cute, but very true reference.

What’s my rush?

Well, when loneliness sets in, it’s a mother. It just is. When you are lonely, and horny and you think you are a nice, funny, attractive person who cooks on a regular basis, you start getting mad with the universe.

Why isn’t someone here? Why isn’t the right person here to share life with?

WHERE IS HE?

Then you try to calm yourself down, because you don’t want to be the desperate chick.

But I’m struggling.

I’ve been on a wait and see approach with the new mystery guy, that I haven’t come up with a name for. I’m interested and even ran out for ice cream Tuesday night, to only hang for about an hour because a strong storm was brewing.

He likes me. I can sense that. He compliments me and there’s a certain way he looks at me when we’re talking that makes me nervous in the good way.

There’s the rational, war-weary, grown woman that says, “There are rules. Maybe two more dates and you can invite him over.”

“One invitation over, some kissing and cuddling and nothing further.”

Meanwhile, my impatient side wants and needs some affection and what I call a “back realignment.”

My impatient side wants long conversations wrapped up in each other’s arms. My impatient side is not trying to wait for other shoes to drop, or wonder about what’s wrong with him. Because this time, I don’t care as much.

There’s something about him that makes me not hold him to the same scrutiny, I’ve held to the others that I wasn’t as attracted to, or who I thought could keep up or had the same kind of confidence.

Mystery guy did point something out during ice cream. There were moments when I really had nothing to say. He said I looked uncomfortable. He was just looking at me.

But it was hard for me to sit still. I couldn’t think of anything witty or intelligent to say to fill in the space.

He told me I didn’t have to.

We could just chill and enjoy the atmosphere, which was a trendy section of downtown Baltimore. The muggyness of the day surrendered to night and the breeze coming off the Inner Harbor gave us a brief respite. But then the weather was too perfect. And then came the strong winds and the people milling about the cobble stone streets, entering and exiting restaurants and shops started taking cover.

We ended our night abruptly.

Just chill…

Argh.

Patience, lil sista.

Signs of Life? Maybe

It’s been an interesting weekend, especially since I came off of a week of being generally funky.

I think it ended on a great note. I went on yet another Plenty Of Fish date, that actually ended up being wonderful.

Lunch turned into a movie.

He was good-looking. Could take a joke, creative and he seemed to be very interested. There was smiling and flirting.

He had just the right amount of conservatism that was surprising to me considering his line of work. He doesn’t seem judgemental, but it seems like he has a deep sense of morality.

In my opinion, I’d describe him as a cute Wayne Brady.

I’ve made the executive decision not to really write about him and see how it goes. I’m not sure if me writing about the men I’m dating is the kiss of death, so because I think I like this guy, I’m feeling strangely and uncharacteristically superstitious.

There are just three things that are causing me to try to calm myself down before getting all wrapped up, which seems inevitable because I feel it…the feeling, the tingle. That thang where it all clicks and I know I’m interested. Even at the movie, when we shared an arm rest it didn’t feel uncomfortable. Neither of us moved away.

If it wasn’t the first date, I knew I wanted to nuzzle underneath him. I felt a twinge of electricity every time we brushed against each other or I leaned my head in when he spoke.

So these are my three concerns with ol boy.

1. He’s in the music industry. He was adamant that he was not a rapper, nor had a desire to be a rapper, he prefers being behind the scenes. Oh boy. But it’s not fair to assume he is a philandering playboy who only wants video models, groupies and background singers. We had a discussion about relationships and sleeping around.

2. His last relationship ended in January. I already informed him that he has serious bounce back. After trying to get over my situation for the last two years, in my mind, his situation is fresh. Not sure if I want to be a rebound. No, I don’t want to be a rebound.

3. I was his very first POF date. So I joked that I made it through all of the filters to the big show. He agreed. Later on that night, via text he said he guessed that POF works. I said, “Eh, for once. You were lucky to knock it out the park on the first try.”

So I already know I like this dude.

I was smiling A LOT.

I wanted to touch him.

I was flirting.

I didn’t want the date to end.

I wanted to talk to him more even after the date once I got home.

I was very excited that he said he wanted to get together again very soon. And often said things like, “next time, we’ll…”

I felt comfortable around him.

I thought about sex. I texted one of my homies from the bathroom at the restaurant and said I’d jump on him.

I wanted him to be impressed with me.

I woke up this morning in an awesome mood.

I’m eager to get a text from him today.

I want to see him again.

I reread the text exchanges we have and smile when he compliments me.

 

 

Dating Has Become My Second Job

Yesterday morning I woke up feeling like crap.

I spent a greater part of the previous night chatting with a guy on the phone into the wee hours. You’d think it was awesome until my high came down.

I was achy, tired. Grumpy. Work dragged on and I was edgy. Didn’t want to be bothered with anyone. Finished a project and left early to get some chicken pho (my go to cure-all for everything) and some sleep.

Talked to the same guy again for a while, while languishing on my couch last night, but it was almost like the club effect. Turn on the lights and you don’t see the same person you thought you were dancing with. You see a slovenly drunken, ugga bugga.

Beer goggles. Ciroc shades.

The really funny, easy guy I was talking to the previous night turned into a judgemental, Uncle Ruckus, who has an issue with my hair all of a sudden. I decided I didn’t care about his opinion because he is an unexposed, non-cultured person. And I’m not even being jerky about it. This guy really hasn’t been exposed and I don’t think he cares to expand his world view at all.

Black people who go on ad nauseam about how they hate large groups of black people or neighborhoods with too many black people irritate me. He actually said he feels better when he sees more white people. This guy is from the South and I can’t decide to call him Uncle Ruckus (A black self-hating, black people hating character on The Boondocks cartoon series) which I did to his face or Jim Crow.

He went on and on about how black people just want to eat fried food all the time with hot sauce and are unhealthy. Have you looked at the entire country? Poor eating habits are rampant across color lines. GTFOH. Negro, you probably have too many people in your family with diabetes and high blood pressure! Earlier he asked me to send another photo of myself and asked me, if I had just gotten out of bed, because my hair looked messed up.

Clearly, I was wearing full make up. I felt insulted. I’ve been getting a lot of reactions to my hair. Some men think it’s pretty awesome, which makes me very happy. Some just don’t really mention it, or they may ask me when I decided to go natural and why and when I explain my reasons, they tend to leave it alone.

My hair was styled in a similar way to how I had it styled in my profile pics. I told him “um, yes, it’s styled. I have natural hair.”

“Well do you wear it straight?”

“I can wear it straight, but it doesn’t last for very long, especially in warm weather. I’m getting braids next week because I don’t want to fuss with it on vacation.”

“Oh.”

I’m thinking the whole time, “Seriously, Negro? Seriously?”

Then when he talked about all of the foods he wouldn’t eat or try, and asked me if Vietnamese food was Oriental, I decided this ain’t gonna go far.

Oriental? Might as well call me colored.

So I’ve decided that he has a serious self-love problem and no wonder he’s screwed up. His mother named him after one of the biggest white American Rock and Roll stars of all time and he grew up in the south. So I give him a pass and pray for his happiness someday. Anyone who knows me knows I am obsessed with African-American history and with Pan-Africanism. I love talking to my friends from other cultures within the Black diaspora and understanding their experiences and how they look at the African-American experience. I love my heritage. So someone like him, yeah, I have no patience for it at all.

So after further discussion, this dude got married early, to a woman who barely out of her first marriage (who wanted to be with him during this first marriage) and asked HIM to marry her.

Like I said, “Well, I mean she was barely out of the first marriage what made you ask her?”

“Well, she asked me.”

Silence.

Because she was his first and only sexual partner he agreed. The marriage lasted 10 months.

She was cheating.

No kidding.

So yes, yall. Dating has become my second job and the stress from it I think caused me to just break down yesterday.

I foolishly tried to plan drinks with Kyle Barker, because he said something about him no longer being immune to my intoxicating vibe and energy. And of course, he stood me up.

I didn’t go to the gym as I planned and I sat at home eventually shedding clothing and pouring wine in a glass, disappointed in myself.

But the pull of new messages from POF keep making me go back and try and try again.

There’s one guy, who is really wordy with the most wonderful lips who I’m talking to and another guy who’s messages I seem to enjoy. I’ve booked drinks with him after I hang with some friends tomorrow night.

I don’t even want to get into the one dude who I talked to off and on and have never gone out with yet.

He asks me to a barbecue this weekend. Cool. Then he says it’s a guy from work, there’s free food and a dj.

Fine.

Then he says he only knows the guy from work, so it’s a great chance for us to get to know each other.

Record scratch.

I tell him, if he wants to get to know me, we don’t have to go to the barbecue. Barbeques are social and honestly, if we don’t know the people that well, we are going to look like moochers.

So he said he agreed and would like to do lunch. I told him lunch was cool. Besides I didn’t want to drive all the way to that side of town to be non-social and looked upon as a mooch. I can afford to make my own burgers. Come on dude.

But I haven’t heard anything else sense.

So do you see why I’m drained folks? Do you see?

One more work week and I’ll be vacation bound in New Orleans. It won’t just be a vacation from my real job, but a much-needed one from dating…

It can’t come soon enough…

Itch Don’t Kill My Vibe, the Online Dating Edition

I’ve decided the longer you online date and not take breaks, you will become jaded.

It will get harder and harder to look at any new profile with fresh eyes and have just enough hope that this person could be your everything, that you can get through the conversations and the dates and the false starts.

I’m learning this.

There’s an interesting phenomenon happening where people I may have started conversations with and have dropped off, they are reappearing and actually telling me, “I guess you aren’t feeling me because you never hit me back.” Ugh.

Dabnis is already hinting at being invited over. And I hint back that I’m not ready for him to post up at my house (especially because he lives at home with his parents, I feel like if I start letting him over, he ain’t gonna leave). I invited him to go take a walk with me on Sunday through a beautiful series of gardens.

I was hoping there would be more sparks sparking off, but sometimes the conversation just fell flat and I found myself looking at my shoes. No heat.

Because of what he does for a living, he was able to tell me all of the work it took to keep such a place so well-manicured, or how difficult certain tree branches are to cut, or the difficulty of taming roses with horribly sharp thorns.

Being in such a beautiful place, I could remember with certain people, I could walk around talking and enjoying the beauty of it all for hours and even lay down a blanket and talk about all sorts of things. Surely surrounded by all of this beauty, I would be compelled to return the feelings of this guy who has declared his interest.

I was bored. I tried to focus.

Last night, I asked him what his flaws were.

He said that he can be too nice.

I told him that was a safe answer, a job interview answer like I work too hard, I’m my worst critic.

So I told him I’m impatient. I hold the people in my life to a high standard and when they fall short of it, I’m disappointed. I take it personally because I think so highly of them. But they are human and it isn’t fair. I can be moody and sensitive and really quiet.

He responded that he wouldn’t try to change me and sometimes he can be quiet too, and that even if we didn’t become a couple, he sees us being friends.

So maybe I introduced a dark cloud and rained on his parade a bit with my “real” moment.

If he’s enjoying the newness, I’m messing it up trying to get to and expose the flaws.

I’m killing his vibe. Damn.

Some other guy, who loves to abbreviate everything in texts, hit me up this morning. He said he guessed I wasn’t feeling him. I told him I thought he was attractive but something about him really screams to me he’s slick and full of shit.

So I didn’t say full of shit, but I said slick. So he catches an attitude tells me I didn’t give him a chance and to have a nice day.

I told him he was right and wished him the same.

This is my theory. Insecure, slick men go nuts when you call them out on it. It’s like supposed to be a secret that they only know and you had the nerve to bring it up. You had the nerve to trust your women’s intuition on the front end and not be swayed by their looks or their words.

Frankly, I don’t trust men online who always refer to me as beautiful, or sexy or gorgeous. I don’t trust men who use abbreviations when they contact me or simply ask all the time what you doing or wyd? as a greeting.

It’s not a greeting.

So I decided his angry response was a reaction to my hard-earned ability to feel the bs coming. I just don’t have the energy.

What confuses me are the men who double back if I haven’t stayed in contact and then casually mention I haven’t held up my end of the conversation.

I like being pursued. I just do. I need to know a man is interested, but I guess sometimes I can end up falling all the way back because I don’t want to be the pressed girl.

That’s the situation I’m dealing with in terms of the Candidate. I feel like he’s given me a green light, but he’s slow on the uptake even though he said we’d talk on Facebook. But I guess that’s back to me being impatient.

I’m struggling. I had a long talk with God and I’m just really having difficulty with my season of singleness right now.

I asked for the insight to recognize I’m where I am for a reason and I want to enjoy the freedom that comes with being single right now.

I want to appreciate that things have to line up in my life for certain things to happen. When I think about things that have happened to me, I always had to be at the right place at the exact right time, I had to meet the right person who led me from one opportunity to the next that links me to the next place I’m supposed to be. Different people, educational experiences, trips, work things have served as conduits to romantic and professional opportunity.

But right now, it feels like all of the circuits are broken. I’m not being connected to my future in any kind of way. Nothing is poppin. I’ve tried to be proactive and not sit on the sidelines, I’ve tried to be open. I’ve tried to relax some of my really high standards.

But still I feel some kind of way.

I’m not there. I’m not even close to wherever it is I’m trying to be.

In love. In real love.

I have to keep living my life and sprinkle new things in it so I can be in those places or around those people. It’s easy to get bogged down and just wonder.

I want to be ready for the love I want to enter my life. Maybe I’m not ready, or as healed or as mature, or selfless enough for the person God wants to bring in my life. Maybe he’s not quite ready either.

Thinking this way gives me comfort, but it doesn’t necessarily satisfy me.

But in the meantime, how do I not crush anyone’s spirit who actually does want to get to know me?

Introducing Dabnis Brickey

Well folks, we have a new guy to bring into the fold.

I’ve been holding out. I’ve been holding out on this one mainly because really, I’ve been tired of being disappointed. Still no word from the Candidate, even though my cousin thinks he’s going to pop up and I’m being impatient, while I don’t think he’s going to show up.

Anyway, I’ve carefully nicknamed this one guy I met from POF Dabnis Brickey, after a character on the Cosby Show who Vanessa Huxtable dated during the last season of the show. Vanessa met the older Dabnis, at her college where he was a maintenance man or head of maintenance.

I’ve named this new guy Dabnis, because basically that’s what he does for a large public school district in the area.

So, we’ve had some pretty good conversations and even though we had a dinner date planed for Friday night, a twist of fate led to us meeting up for drinks and a little food after work on Thursday.

There was a massive storm that blew through the area. I knew that traffic would be horrible, so when he said he would love to see me that night, I told him I wasn’t jazzed up, but it would be great to wait out the madness and head to my neck of the woods a little later.

So we talked, we enjoyed our conversation and we even went bowling after.

So, in my usual form, Dabnis is short. He’s probably easily 5’6 or 5’7 at the most, very lean, but well-built. Short, short hair cut and a lovely brown man with a thin goatee.

From what I can tell of Dabnis, he comes from a fairly large family with southern roots. He did go to college for one year, but I’m not sure what exactly happened. He seems to be a very hard worker and he enjoys his work and is proud of what he does.

He does live at home with his parents, and he says he has been saving money to buy his own home. He does go to church. Truth be told aside from being able to tell my father on father’s day that I went to church, I also wanted to tell him I made it to church today too.

There are a few interesting things about Dabnis. He seems to have a very wide range of friends. Some of whom are filthy rich, travel on private jets and invite him out for rounds of golf at exclusive country clubs where they are members. Then he has other friends he may have grown up with who have had tougher times and didn’t make very good decisions (even ended up in prison), but he treats them all the same and offers his friendship and advice.

I won’t lie. Because Dabnis brought up the fact that he does like nice things, but classifies himself as a saver, I did go on salary.com to see what he could be making at the very least and at the very most. I was actually pleasantly surprised with the numbers and didn’t give him a complete side eye when I saw his very nice German car.

And even though we ended up at a restaurant owned by a Top Chef winner, I also fought the urge to freak out when the bill came. He seemed at ease, he didn’t mind ordering a bottle of champagne and didn’t flinch with ever course that arrived.

The meal was luxurious. Every bite was delightful. The champagne was great and we talked about music and dating. He showered me with compliments and that’s no surprise. Because I slayed.

Black tulle dress, gold jewelry, hair fluffed to the heavens, red lip, high heels.

At the end of the meal, we had some of the chocolates that they made right on site. Delightful!

It was a good night.

But some of my problem is realizing the problem I have with really letting go.

This guy is a nice guy. This guy is a good-looking guy. He is employed and what was really cool about dinner on Friday night was with every course, he kept smiling when he noticed I was enjoying myself.

Even though he said he was really happy I was enjoying the food, you could see the pride on his face. I thought that was genuine and sweet.

I get nervous though when men keep saying really nice things about me, especially early on. Sometimes it’s game, and sometimes some men really are being honest and sharing their feelings, which is also rare.

Men tend to keep things to the vest, and I can’t decide if he is a hopeless, reckless romantic, or a man who knows who he wants and is trying to get it.

So far he’s said things like he feels lucky to be around be.

He said that I am a true beauty inside and out.

He told me that he’s really feeling me.

He told me he thinks he could spend hours and hours with me.

He said I have great hair, and skin and eyes.

When we talked about church and God, he said that he actually thanked God Thursday night for meeting me.

That’s when it was just too much.

Now he done went and brought the big guy into this.

Even if he did include me in his prayers, I felt a little claustrophobic. I told him that it’s just so soon and while I like compliments, just wait and see if I’m all of these things you think I am.

God, don’t let me ruin the possibility of a good thing because of fear and don’t let me not accept a compliment because I’m afraid it’s a lie, or that I can’t live up to it.

But I don’t want someone to blow smoke up my butt either.

I know one thing is for certain. I can’t break him off anytime soon. This poor man will lose his mind.

But I give him props for being very respectful and not too touchy feely. He’s doing a fantastic job in that regard.

So here we go…

My Facebook Newsfeed Is Nothing But Babies and Weddings

I can’t tell you how many of my friends–all from different circles– have dubbed themselves relationship retarded, relationship challenged… etc. over the last few weeks.

After how I’ve acted a fool over the weekend, I can ride the relationship short bus too. Actually, I can be the short bus monitor.

It’s been happening gradually, but as of late, my Facebook newsfeed is overflowing with folks getting married and having babies.

A few years ago, it was a lot of people going to parties, going on vacations and celebrating the completion of graduate programs.

Now.

It’s weddings, showers and babies. Weddings, showers and engagement photos and on and on.

I’ve mentioned in blogs past that there have been disproportionate weddings among my white high school classmates in comparison to black.

And disproportionate non-married births among my black high school classmates.

Some of my college educated black female friends are making slow gains in the marriage department, but it looks like they are getting married later, and most of them have had really, really long-term relationships prior to getting down the aisle.

I really could do a sociology project on marriage patterns among various racial, educational and socioeconomic groups because my Facebook friends run the gambit.

There are Facebook friends of mine who may have already been married for five or six years working on a third or fourth child.

I’m happy for all of these people taking these big major life steps. But it makes me want to celebrate something soon. Anything.

I may create an album called “My super single 30ish life” and start taking and posting more pics. My life is worth celebrating at every stage. Including this one, where I’m going to have the most flexibility EVER.

While me and my friends to yearn for companionship and a beautiful family to create and call our own, I’m trying to appreciate this season in my life for what it is. It belongs to me and only me and I can do with it whatever I please with no other pressures from anyone else who will have to depend on me. That is also worth celebrating.

Are we happy yet?

 

I’m Looking for the Quote Lede Man

Most reporters know how controversial opening a story with a quote can be.

The rule of thumb is, it better be a damn good quote.

It better grip you right away and not let you go until the end of the story.

That quote better stay with you forever and cause you to repeat it to others and then they do the same.

Some writers will argue that using a quote as your lede is pure laziness and if you do it often, it shows you have no skill.

I’ve come to agree with that. Starting a story with a quote, it has to be special. It has to almost be foreshadowing, or it has to hit you upside the head with so much impact, or as you read further, the person who utters those super important words has to be just as interesting or surprising.

After all, you chose them. You placed them above yourself as a writer to let them speak, before you even do. And writers have ego. Nothing is more precious than our control over the words we write. It is a true act of humility and surrender to just how powerful the story, or the subject of your story is in the act of telling the story.

That should hold a lot of weight.

I have been tempted to use quotes as ledes, but I’ve always wanted to be respected as a writer. That rule has been important to me.

But there were moments during reporting as people spoke to me, they said the “perfect things” without my prodding or a question to solicit the answer I wanted, that allowed me to construct where those quotes should go in my story. It was like writing music, it just fit. Like seeing the notes in the air and hearing the sounds.

Some folks would say certain things and I knew, boom, that goes at the end. And I would nod with a grin as soon as those magic words left their lips and I’d furiously write, or just hold my tape recorder.

But the moments when folks said things that would be my lede, standing where they were standing, ironically next to something that could provide symbolism, the time of day, the weather, I would feel it.

My body would tingle.

Right there, in that moment, they simply said it all. They did the work for me.

Even the days I got sent on an assignment that made no sense to me, where I thought there was no story, when that moment happens, it pulls everything together. It’s unreal.

It’s magic.

If you are a good writer and reporter, you’ve had this moment. You know it and you know that feeling.

This is how I can best describe what it is like for me when I’ve met any of the men that I have had real relationships with.

I need my quote lede man. Period. It goes back to knowing what something feels like. And yeah. It’s the same feeling.

New New Dating Profile (For Real This Time, I Do Want to Meet Someone)

My actions have been emotionally motivated as of late. I’m doing things real fast and acting on impulse. No bueno. The only good non-impulsive thing I did this weekend was ignore Kyle Barker’s texts and late night phone calls.

So after just posting that super emo, dating profile, which goes against everything perky dating coaches tell you to do to attract a man, (see previous post) I’ve changed it to this. Maybe I will just take a photo of my ass and post it too.

Wouldn’t you like to know?

Outgoing introvert nerd, wannabe fitness enthusiast, champion weekend couch potato, resident goof ball. I cook. Yes. I cook. Loves music, movies, theater and museums. Loves traveling. Want to do it more, especially internationally. A fan of going to places I haven’t been locally and pretending I’m a tourist.

I’m a writer, but why put all my good stuff on here for free?

Twitter Request: My New Dating Profile

I decided to change my profile info. Because at the time I wrote the original, I was optimistic, and horribly impatient.

I’d like to share an excerpt from a recent conversation I had.

This whole process has me questioning about how elitist and shallow I really am.

In my mind, and through this process, I keep saying I want to be more open, but I keep finding myself not getting disappointed not so much with the men (plenty of whom were nice, but didn’t have IT), but with MYSELF for talking to folks who I knew didn’t fit into my box and going against what I knew I am attracted to.

So how do you not make the same mistakes by seeking the same kind of people who didn’t work anyway? How do you REALLY give different types of people a chance, and honestly set aside your biases or preconcieved notions?

I feel like after talking to a lot of guys, I’m no better than any of these other jaded, mad, women. I do care about the level of education someone has. I care if a man lives at home without a really good reason. I care if the person hasn’t stepped outside of their neighborhood and has had limited life experiences. I care about what they do for a living. I care if they have children. I care a lot, if I’m not sexually attracted. 🙂

I want everyone looking for what they want to find it. And I don’t want people to be offended if they aren’t it for me, because I won’t be if I’m not.

I love to write. I love movies and music. I’m a big fan of live music and theater. I love food and enjoy cooking for special people in my life. I do want to travel more out of the country and I look forward to doing that. I’m also a fan of taking mini breaks in local places and pretend I’m a tourist.

I love talking to people and because of my profession, I have a tendency to seem more interested in what people are saying and their conversation and thoughts and it’s great for writing, but horrible for my love life, because men I’m not that interested in mistake that for real interest in them and attraction. I feel terrible about that. And I’m not sure how to correct that because I enjoy learning about people and I can talk to anyone.

 

NOTE: I’M PROBABLY GOING TO TAKE THIS DOWN. IT SEEMS SO SAD. I will replace it with nothing.

Lessons In Cattiness, Real Friends, No New Friends? IDK…

Oh that Facebook.

You know my love and hate relationship with it. Probably last year or so, I wrote about the painful end to a friendship that really made no sense but actually did make sense because I blindly stumbled into it anyway. I think it was convenience for both parties and when the party was over, it was over.

I don’t think this ex-friend is a bad person at all, but we just didn’t need to be in each other’s circles anymore. So it’s ok.

We are Facebook friends and because I just got tired of her documenting every moment and poop and I was a little jealous of her weight loss, I had to hide her posts. But I do wish her and her family well. They’ve been through a lot.

I happened to look on her page again because there was a rare post that made it through my filters and got on my homepage.

She’s back to the same old same old, but it looks like her boyfriend actually stuck around this time. She was notorious for having a good run for three months and it all falling apart.

So of course there’s so much irony. I can’t seem to find and keep someone around, but I thought about the loss of that friendship and what I ended up gaining.

After losing that friendship, I’ve solidified old ones, I’ve become close friends with one of my cousins (who I have admired forever and looked up to) and our relationship is stronger and deeper than ever. We even travel together now. I no longer see her as this ideal person, but as I told her recently, I’m so honored that we’ve become friends as women and that she’s allowed herself to see me not as a little cousin, but as another woman too. I told her that I love her even more because she’s let me see her flaws and be vulnerable and it makes me even more proud of how strong and amazing she really is.

I’ve made new friends who are hardworking, beautiful, funny and genuine and intelligent. Did I mention genuine? It’s mighty difficult to hit your 30s and meet genuine women and decide to become friends. It takes a lot of faith on the part of all parties to A) be themselves B) be secure enough in themselves not to make assumptions and then start the comparisons which leads to jealousy and mistrust. One of the young ladies I met through this very blog, the other, a friend of the friend I met through this very blog! I can sit in a restaurant with them and laugh for hours or have scandal parties in sweatpants, or go have ice cream with them on a Tuesday night and just be myself. (Take that Drake, I do want new friends especially if they are going to turn into great old friends).

There’s nothing fake, phony or pretentious, they aren’t clamoring to be in VIP sections or be seen, and they don’t have to run the streets. They are just as happy hanging out at the mall as they are at a party. But they can get jazzed up too. I think we are often the best dressed people in the room at most places we go, and that’s even when we are “casual.”

So I’m very thankful. I had to learn some lessons about friendship and about how people’s prominence in your life does shift. While some people take a seat or take a break because of their life changes, other people step up in unexpected, necessary ways.

And that is beautiful.

Accepting the shift isn’t easy.

Sometimes when old friends fade out, you are upset, you feel like they walked away with all of the things you gave them, but what did you get in return?

I got so caught up in how I helped that one friend get a job, that increased her salary and led her to getting a new job with an even bigger salary.

But I didn’t give my ex-friend credit for showing me how to expand my skill set by teaching me how to do her job on websites while she was on sick leave, setting me up to do it full-time and two years or so later getting a raise and leading the department and getting a new title.

I saw her as getting more than me and moving on to better. But all the while, things were slowly coming into place for me. If I didn’t learn something new, I could have easily been laid off when the company went in a new direction. So looking back, being more mature about it, she helped me immensely too.

Old friends may surprise you by how selfish they can be, new friends can surprise you with how giving and caring they can be already.

Regardless, prepare yourself to be surprised.

Then there are friends who are steady, steady, steady and tried and true that will not change, will always be dependable and God, you need those folks in your crew too, they are the foundation and I’m beyond blessed to have folks like that. No matter how moody, how silly, how frustrated, or man-obsessed they will give you your space, they will check on you right on time and say exactly what you need to hear whether you felt like it, or wanted them to or not.

Me and one of my dearest friends who makes me nuts like no other, I’ve written about our epic battles, we’ve come to another level of maturity. I’m better at expressing my feelings and calling her out without being harsh and blurting it all out at once when she’s completely upset me. She’s better at listening to me and trying to consider my feelings before hitting our danger zones.

Even though I don’t get to see my sister often, I love our phone conversations. We were on the phone for about two hours on Sunday. Me, talking about the difficult single life, she talking about the difficult married and mom life. We exhaled and laughed a lot.

I saw that old friend’s Facebook page and it made me think of all of these things. That’s awesome.

But I’m still not unleashing her regular posts on my timeline.

No thanks.

 

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