Love and Caution

Some folks say that they fall in love too easily.
I’ve never had that problem.
In fact, I’m usually not the first to say I love you.
I warn anyone in danger of loving me not to be offended if I don’t say it first, but know when I do say it, I mean it.
There was only one time, I was fighting myself not to let it slip from my lips, and that was in my last relationship. I waited to let him say it first, so I can say it back.
Anyone who falls in love with me too quickly, I look at them with a side-eye. I just have to. I have difficulty believing them. I also feel like folks who are quick to fall, are just as quick to hate you. I’ve seen that happen too. A recent guy went from wanting to tell his mother about me, future children and thanking God for me on Facebook, to being hurtful and saying he had to take me in small doses, or calling me indignant because I dared to speak my mind. So there’s another side.
I don’t have self-esteem nor do I think not I’m lovable, however, if you’re too quick to pull the love trigger, you worry me as a potential love. It makes me think you don’t put a lot of thought into things and are too emotionally driven and that scares me.
So I think I’ve decided that I need to be with a person who is cool with the pace in which I fall in love and won’t see my need for caution and time as an insult.
Because once I’m there, there’s no turning back. I’ve made the conscious decision to be all in. Hurrah. You’ve got me.
I have difficulty with people who want me to speed up that process, or believe that the pace in which I fall for someone is in direct correlation with how I feel about them.
Should it take me years to fall in love? No, I don’t think so.
Is it measured in hours or months or a specific number of dates? No. It isn’t.
What makes me fall in love with a person is a series of moments in which both people are vulnerable, honest and where I’ve felt completely safe and like myself.
Moments of truth, moments of unbridled silliness, confiding in each other, that means something to me. Those moments help my feelings grow. In my opinion, cultivating intimacy does take time. And when those moments start adding up, then that’s when I feel like I could be falling and I allow myself to.
The quickest way to scare me off is to go into instant couple mode. This means introducing me to family and friends or any people you consider important without telling me or giving me a warning.
There’s nothing more uncomfortable than people gushing about what a great couple you are, before you’ve even declared yourself a couple. It’s also very uncomfortable when people really start asking about your future together when you don’t know. Sir, ma’am, I don’t know if I’m going to be talking to this person next week… and my date has only himself to blame.
So I don’t like folks jumping the gun and ambushing me like that.
Those are just more disappointed people if it doesn’t work out. I’m clearly the bad guy. Because here was this guy so proud of me and saying how great I am, and here I am like, he’s cool. It’s still early. I’ve found friends and family don’t want to hear that.
I’m also very private. I want us to enjoy our bubble for as long as we can before we let outsiders remotely close. We’re getting us together, our message, our pace and stride together as a couple. Once again everyone understanding pacing helps the message you convey to the public and all those people you want me to meet. You pull the trigger too soon and someone asks me the wrong question, everyone will feel awkward.
Don’t make too many plans including me too far in advance. Take things one at a time. Besides, I may have already made my own plans that I could have prepaid for, now you’re looking crazy. Or we could have some epic fight in which I ether you and we never speak again.
I’m methodical about entering relationships. I will weigh the pros and cons and read all kinds of articles and take quizzes and look at astrological signs and listening to my inner voice.
So should we go aimlessly into the dark for an infinite amount of time? No. I don’t want anyone to feel like they are wasting time, yet, I can’t operate so quickly, that I’m not considering my doubts or instincts about a person.

One friend thinks I truly haven’t let go of the past.

I’m not worried about the past. Am I affected by it? Yes, certainly. The future, however, has me in knots. Making decisions that involve other people and their feelings if I’m not all in? That concerns me. I feel responsible for that.

I’ve also found out a few other things about myself. I’m uncomfortable if a man spends a lot of money on me. And I value my freedom and independence over everything, way more than I ever realized.

I’ve spent the last four years fighting with myself, fighting for myself, loving myself out of darkness making life changes for myself. It’s been about me. Giving myself over to a man or a family freaks me out. It makes me question everything about the natural next step of partnering up. The pressure to choose the right man who understands that… and coming to the realization that there might not be a man who does, that’s when the claustrophobia sets in.

I’ve been asked over and over what I want. By so many people. It’s been easy to say I don’t know. And it’s lazy.

What I ultimately want is a great, healthy, relationship where I know it feels right in my spirit and where I don’t feel trapped, or that I lost myself or I settled out of some awful fear. I want a love that feels like freedom, that embraces my independent spirit and somehow it works.

Cheating, Open Relationships, Polygamy and Double Standards Oh MY

Disappointment is an understatement.

The past few weeks I was nearly smitten by a tall, handsome, smart guy. We were clicking. It was awesome. So awesome that I didn’t and would not blog about him for fear I’d jinx the whole thing. Let’s be honest. I haven’t written about anyone yet, who successfully became my man and stuck around for like more than two months.

So I had high hopes and I wasn’t going to let anything–even this blog– spoil my chances.

Well, as a good friend said years ago, “A N***a will always cancel himself out.”

Coarse words, but true indeed unfortunately.

I made my banging gumbo the other day and promised to bring some by before he left out of town on business. As on other occasions we sat by the fire talking and hanging out.

To get the convo going I asked him about what I discussed with you guys in my last post about TI and Tiny and was it appropriate to “call her out.” So he shared his feelings about respect between a man and a woman in the confines of marriage and that was straight.

Then we were looking at a gossip site online and started talking about celebrity relationships and the Kardashian women came up. I said, yeah black men can’t seem to resist them.

So, he, being a black man said it’s not for obvious reasons one would assume. He said black, celebrity men love Kardashians because 1. “They have their own money. They don’t need his. So he doesn’t have to worry about them having their hands out always wanting something. Black women are stingy, they aren’t giving.”

Oh. That felt like a gut punch to my stomach.

“You really don’t believe that do you?”

“It’s true.”

So yall know me. Yall know I’m mad. Clearly this man came from black cootchie and can attest to his mother raising him single-handedly. If that’s not giving, I don’t know what the hell it is. He has a sister!

So I’m confused. He has a straight face, he never says he’s playing.

2. Kardashian women are desirable because of their ability to adjust to the “lifestyle” ie. turn a blind eye to cheating and still roll with it. Now I’m not a Kardashian, and maybe they are cool with open relationships, but I feel like that’s quite a limb to go on. So I ask. “A woman’s ability to turn a blind eye to cheating is a desirable trait?”

He says, with a straight face, yes. Especially for celebrities and wealthy men. They can cheat.

So I say, “Monogamy is for broke folks? Is that what you are saying?”

“Basically.”

My jaw has dropped again.

3. Kardashians are down for anything in the sack. He said, “Well do you do threesomes or do anal? So if you man likes that, he can’t get that from someplace else if he can’t get it from you? Monogamy is a fantasy. Something created by Americans and Christianity.”

He goes on this whole dissertation about how in African culture polygamy is the way, and just as America allows religious freedom, why are people against polygamy if that is someone’s culture in Africa.

I said, “If you want multiple wives, then live in Africa. I said that’s not peachy either, you have to first be able to afford all of your wives and their kids. And the women will say there is rampant jealousy and worry about favoritism of wives or children. It’s drama. Men really want to sign up for that because they can have multiple vaginas to hit?”

So he said the women agree to it. They sign up for it. I said, most women regardless of culture want to feel loved and feel like a man’s one and only. He said well men are in control and the dominant ones so it’s set up that way. And I said exactly… these women don’t have any political or economic power. In a lot of cases there would often be shortages of men, and this is what villages would resort to, to keep the village going. They have to be involved in this system in order to survive and to live, but they aren’t necessarily saying this is the best situation ever. There are some exceptions, but I don’t think that’s what people want.

So I said, ok, if we allow polygamy in America, it has to be equal. Women should have multiple husbands.

This fool says no, it wouldn’t work. Men won’t sign up for it and women have babies.

Huh? Sure women have babies, oh but men don’t want to live in a communal environment where they know other men have children with them and they are all taking care of other men’s kids and sharing a woman.

So I said in relationships, can the woman also step out and have multiple partners? He paused and said yes, if that’s what’s agreed upon. I said what if she only wants that man, so it’s still okay for him to step out because she agreed? He said yes.

I said, so why is it so hard to believe women aren’t too keen on this arrangement either? He said, “It’s just different.”

I said, “It’s just bullshit and a double standard.”

“I know it’s a double standard, we all know it’s a double standard, but that’s just the way it is.”

This dude was basically more in favor of polygamy than gay marriage.

I was stunned.

Heart broken. I’d been dreaming of this man, fantasizing about him it work, remembering what his kisses felt like and cuddling with him watching T.V. All of this stuff got shot straight to hell, thanks to Media Take Out.

My friends say it’s good I learned this early. I can agree, but it doesn’t take away the fact that I’m highly disappointed. I really liked this one. I really did. One of my girls suggested that I clarify with him if he was joking or playing devils advocate. But I told her, no, he looked serious and not once did he use the term “Let’s play devil’s advocate here.”

I did ask him you are talking about celebrities and athletes but what about you?

His answer was political and in my opinion telling. “I think people need to do what works for them.”

Welp, sir. Monogamy ‘WORKS’ for me. I need that. I need to trust my partner.

He pointed out divorce statistics and how marriage isn’t working in America anyway.

So when he kissed me good night, I felt dejected. I already felt the impending doom set in. Things were forever changed. He wasn’t the man I hoped he was.

Back out to the darkness, yall.

 

 

 

 

I’m dying for a love song.

On my way to work today, I carefully listened to the words of Rico Love’s “They Don’t Know.”

The beat was sexy. I was about to drift off into my sexy thoughts and get in to my Mrs. Carter/Crazy Horse Dancer mode when something stopped me dead in my tracks.

The actual lyrics.

I’ll put them at the bottom of the blog. It’s actually worse if you read them. But I found that as I kept on driving,  I kept getting more angry.

I used to rock out to “OPP” and all sorts of songs about ratchet behavior and man-stealing, and still consider myself a classy chick, so I asked myself: “Self, what about this song in particular has you so upset?”

Welp, I do think it’s my three-year stretch of bad dating and no real relationships being formed that last past two months. I can do the chicken or the egg thing and wonder if it’s me or if it’s who I’m picking and why I’m picking who I’m picking. But the nearly 32-year-old who has just had it, and is over it was pissed at this song, pissed at the people who wrote it, sang it and the people who will consume it and love it. I’m pissed for the young women who think as long as a man gives them lavish gifts and trips in return for their bodies, loyalty and silence to be “shared” with his wifey, (who apparently lives under the same terms and conditions as the beloved, discreet side chick, but with the title, and probably the kids) that’s the ideal life.

The funny thing is, there’s nothing new to this. And some women will argue they have given it up for far less on far more ridiculous and unworthy suitors.

In this song, Rico’s lady love meets up at hotels, goes to the all-star weekend, with the latest Birkin bag on her arm. She is prime, on call vagina.

What have I been doing with my entire life? Why didn’t I think to sign up for such a thing?

Oh, Rico would have us believe as he croons, that the situation is puppies and kittens. Two women who know about each other, and (it is implied) are willing to have sex with one another with or without him and everyone is pleased as punch with this arrangement because, they are living the lush life.

This is on the radio.

There are no words of love, there isn’t even the illusion. He says so himself. Because Rico gets a kick out of no one except his wifey even knowing who this girl is. She’s just in the shadows, dressed to the nines, flown to where he is in the G5. He won’t even say, girl if loving you is wrong I don’t want to be right. She’s just something to be used up, and quiet and just take the money and the cars and the stuff. This fool takes it further, and says his name is on her body, so this chick took permanent steps to tat his name on her body, and he says you belong to me. I guess so. She was bought and paid for.

There has always been the concept of bitch, look pretty, shut up and open your legs as long as I’m paying. But in a day in age where women have come so far, gained so much and in a lot of cases actually out earn men, have more degrees, the fact that this kind of music can be so popular, that we say it’s only music, and we don’t demand better, it breaks my heart.

I’m going to have to listen to Stevie Wonder for the rest of the day, to get 4 minutes of Rico Love out of my system. I guess I am getting old. And that’s fine.

“They don’t know They don’t, they don’t know They don’t, they don’t know They don’t know They don’t, they don’t know They don’t,  they don’t know They don’t know

We be in the same room N’ we don’t ever say shit Let’s  keep it between me and you N’ we cool, ’cause they don’t know

I’m the one you’ll be texting When you be up at cho job  (they don’t know) I’m the one that bought that Benz That’s in your garage  (they don’t know) I’m the reason you don’t stress when shit gets hard And  anything you want It’s all yours (they don’t know)

On your birthday I’m the one who saw yo birthday suit (They  don’t know) That the Birkin bag It bought that birthday coupe (they don’t  know) I keep it all real I ain’t gotta tell lies to you You the only  one who knows, the truth

They don’t know They don’t, they don’t know They don’t,  they don’t know They don’t know They don’t, they don’t know They don’t,  they don’t know They don’t know

We be in the same room N’ we don’t never say shit Let’s  keep it between me and you N’ we cool, ’cause they don’t know

They don’t, they don’t know They don’t, they don’t know They don’t know They don’t, they don’t know They don’t, they don’t  know They don’t know

They don’t even know I know you You don’t be talking like a  lame bitch You follow the rules but keep it cool ‘Cause they don’t  know

We was at the same hotel Superbowling all star week (they  don’t know) You be acting shy But you chu really an all star freak (they  don’t know) That you got my name tattooed on yo body They don’t know you  belong to me, yeah (They don’t know) bout the cold nights And the secret  island trips (They don’t know) when I be up in that pussy I be calling you  my bitch (they don’t know) They don’t know you like me They don’t know you  like me They don’t even know that I share you, with my wifey

They don’t know They don’t, they don’t know They don’t,  they don’t know They don’t know They don’t, they don’t know They don’t,  they don’t know They don’t know

We be in the same room N’ we don’t never say shit Let’s  keep it between me and you N’ we cool, ’cause they don’t know

They don’t, they don’t know They don’t, they don’t know They don’t know They don’t, they don’t know They don’t, they don’t  know They don’t know

They don’t even know I know you You don’t be talking like a  lame bitch You follow the rules but keep it cool ‘Cause they don’t  know

You deserve the rewards G5 planes, you deserve the board Tell them other lames They can swerve of course And I swear to God Imma  curve the broads ‘Cause they don’t know Vacations they don’t go You  stay patient and I respect that ‘Cause you know how to play ya post

Them other bitches get antsy That’s why a nigga never  treat’em fancy You get urs off, in Bergdorf While they bargain shoppin on  Delancy You ain’t even tell ya sister Mama thinking you don’t even like  niggas Instagram, you don’t even like pictures That’s why I’m fucking  withcha

They don’t know They don’t, they don’t know They don’t,  they don’t know They don’t know They don’t, they don’t know They don’t,  they don’t know They don’t know

We be in the same room N’ we don’t never say shit Let’s  keep it between me and you N’ we cool, ’cause they don’t know

They don’t, they don’t know They don’t, they don’t know They don’t know They don’t, they don’t know They don’t, they don’t  know They don’t know

They don’t even know I know you You don’t be talking like a  lame bitch You follow the rules but keep it cool ‘Cause they don’t  know They don’t, they don’t know They don’t, they don’t know ‘Cause  they don’t know”

Read more:  Rico Love – They Don’t Know Lyrics | MetroLyrics

You Wore Your Fake Hair Today: A Holiday Party Don’t

We recently had our company holiday party and it was nice. The company sprang for a lovely lunch and a brief cocktail hour at a local hotel ballroom.

Excellent.

Something that really surprised me was how casually people were dressed for this event. We are in a creative industry, and most of the people at my job aren’t in suits and heels or stockings everyday, but I assumed since we were having an offsite holiday party, folks would step it up.

The IT guys did wear ties, and some people did have a festive edge to their ensembles, wearing red, greens, golds.
I chose to get in the spirit, and I wore a great gold metallic H&M sweater with a long leather looking green skirt. I slicked my hair down and added some hair to make a simple bun. Some red lipstick and I was good to go.
I had a lot of really nice compliments until one co-worker said the unthinkable.
“Yes, doesn’t she look nice? You even have your fake hair in today.”
RECORD SCRATCH

I couldn’t hold back. The look on my face shot daggers because I couldn’t believe this woman had the nerve to say what she said.
Another woman in the conversation, “complimented” my hair, said that it looked very nice and she really had no idea I included some extra hair. Then looking very awkward, she took a swig from her wine glass.

After giving the offensive woman, probably the side eye of certain death, she waddled away.

When desserts were being served, she wanted to remark about how great my sweater was and at that point I just wanted her to shut up.
When I wear hair pieces or wear braids, I don’t broadcast that they are extensions. Clearly they are. I don’t have a problem with it, and I usually don’t mind if people ask me questions about my hair, I’ll give them the answer I feel like giving and move on. It’s far better than them just reaching in and petting me like an animal.

What I can’t go for is what that woman said. “You even have your fake hair in today.” It wasn’t even a simple, “I like your hair, or it looks nice.”

To me, that awkward statement was akin to saying to someone, “Your fake boobs look great in that top.”

“Grandma, you’re wearing your dentures today!”

There’s no need to point out the fakeness of something to attribute how special it is. Just compliment the thing you like about it, or just leave it alone. Actually, it isn’t a compliment to point out if something is fake. And this isn’t limited to holiday parties. Just don’t do that ever.

You Must Not Know Bout Me

So my jams of the morning have been Beyonce’s “Irreplaceable” and TLC’s “Switch” because Renaissance fell, bumped his head, lost his mind and your girl just does not have the time or energy for it.

I am not in attendance for this.
He fell off the radar because now his pledgees are into the final and most intense stages of their “process.”
I had to ask around to my Greek friends about this foolishness before I pulled the plug on his life support.
They said this dude was trippin and a male friend said, if anything it’s not unusual for old heads to show up at the end. But he’s too far in, even if he is the one who is like a founding father to a chapter.

Blah, blah. It all makes my head hurt.
This dudes pledges are “on line” not him, so I don’t get how he can’t eek out a text or a phone call.

He sent me the half assed email, and a text or two.
But here’s what’s got me feeling some kind of way.
Weeks ago I asked him to see a show of an artist we both like. It was going to be my treat. I asked him if he would be done with the pledgees by then and he said yes.
A week later, I told him I had the tickets and to lock it in. He said cool.
When he didn’t hang out with me on Sunday, as he said he wanted to on that Thursday and only sent me one text message and didn’t answer my messages, I knew on Monday, I need to confirm. So when he sent me that wack email from his job, I asked him to please let me know by mid week if it looked like he wasn’t able to attend because that would give me adequate time to ask someone else and not waste my money.

He sent me a text asking about my day, but never brought up our upcoming date. So I asked him to confirm. Nothing.

Yesterday after not hearing anything at all, I left him a Voicemail. “Could you please take one minute or a half a minute to tell me if you can make it tomorrow night.”

Still nothing.
I dare this fool to pop up today or even show up at the venue. Because he’s about to have his feelings all the way hurt.

I have two guy friends I enjoy attending events with. Both I haven’t seen in ages. So one friend couldn’t make it and the other friend was excited to join me and jumped at the chance. So ha ha ha!

And me and this guy friend always have a great time when we hang out. So I Aint Worried About Nothing. BOOM.

So friends, I wasn’t wrong, correct? I gave this guy numerous opportunities. I had a feeling in my gut he would flake. So I just wanted him to come out and say if he would or would not go. When you are just MIA like that, it’s not crazy for me to wonder if you are still going to show up. Especially since you’ve stood me up in the past or changed plans last minute.

Oh well.

Personal Bill of Rights: My Feelings Deserve Respect

So after thinking about a bunch of things this weekend including how I want and need to be loved, I also thought about my feelings and how people should and should not speak to me even if it is in the name of honesty.

So I thought to myself, I need to write down in my blog, a personal Bill of Rights to remind myself and reference it to others when folks start getting out of order when it comes to respecting me and my feelings.

It’s like raising a flag or hitting that buzzer from the board game Taboo when someone says a word on the card.

I have the right to digest what people say to me about me and interpret it how I interpret it because it’s about me. My initial reaction to what is said for better or worse is very real. Now if I’m upset by it, I have the right to be upset about it. If you know it’s going to upset me, be ready for me to be upset. If I say I don’t like what you said or I no longer want to talk about what you said, I have that right.

Why? Because even though I can be stubborn, I do need time to process what’s been said to me and I can either see where you are coming from or decide what you said was complete bullshit.

And once again, I’m allowed to do that. I’m allowed to feel what I feel. And I offer that to any of my friends and family. YOU ARE ALLOWED TO FEEL HOW YOU FEEL. DON’T LET OTHER PEOPLE CHEAT YOU OUT OF THAT. YOU ARE FEELING WHAT YOU FEEL FOR A REASON AND IT MAY NOT EVEN BE ABOUT THEM, BUT YOU FEEL THE WAY YOU DO AND IT’S OK.

One of the things I detest is when people blame me for my feelings or say I’m too sensitive.

As a person who often chooses to suck it up, when I do express my feelings of discomfort, I am being brave, I am standing up for myself, I am standing in my truth. Respect that. Honor that.

Most of my good friends, during the rare times they offend me and the even rarer times when I speak up on it, they back up, they even apologize and they drop it. They don’t blame me, they don’t accuse me of being too sensitive or being all up in my feelings. They stop. Why? Because I established the boundary, I was clear and they respected it. I don’t have to yell. I don’t have to be nasty. But I am firm, there is a change in my voice that suggests this is serious. Stop.

I have one person in my life who defends their harsh words and turns it around on me claiming, that they can’t offer me any kind of criticism, because I always take it the wrong way when it comes from them.

I explained that they often come off judgemental and downright mean and while deep down I know they don’t mean anything nasty, they can be nasty and it’s off putting.

That person simply said, they have an opinion.

I believe that having an opinion does not give one carte blanche to be reckless. Period.

The thing that bothers me the most about this person is this discussion didn’t even stem from my recent relationship issues, which could be open to a lot of criticism and emotional finger wagging.

This was about my physical appearance.

It took me aback. But it wasn’t the first time this particular person said something about my hair, clothes or weight.

So this whole mini argument started from her hinting at her dislike for a certain article of clothing I wore a few years ago and I already shut her down and told her I saw where she was going and not to be nasty. And then it all began.

I decided when it came to this person, instead of sucking it up, I was going to have to retrain her on how I wanted to be treated. So I started speaking up more when she hurt my feelings. But she was always resistant to my speaking up and would minimize my feelings or dismiss them as me being sensitive.

I don’t know if some people have a problem with me asserting myself. I know who I am. I know what I look like and after gaining a few pounds and wearing my hair natural, I feel like I’m living my life with another level of honesty and challenging myself to be and live honestly. When someone compliments me now, I really relish it because I believe them because they are seeing me and it may not be popular or beautiful to you, but it’s me.

When certain friends don’t compliment me it makes me wonder. Does how I look make them feel uncomfortable? And why?

I’ve been on this kick. I’ve been praying about God helping me see first people’s light or lack thereof.

Everyone is a human being with faults and they are special and wonderful. But there are certain people who have a light in them, even when life is difficult or not going the way they’d hoped. I want to recognize those people and encourage them more regularly. I want to share kind words with them and I hope they do the same for me.

I particularly want to see this in my circle, which really isn’t hard and I want to see it in the man who is going to become my husband. I’ve decided I can’t compromise on that. And I think describing it as a light is more accurate than what I’ve been calling it before, “that thing” “that it factor” the “za za zoo.”

It’s simple. From my man, family and friends I want to feel loved, protected, nurtured and safe. I want to feel like the people in my life will allow me rest when I am weary and they got it. They got it until I get more strength and return to the game, so I can in turn help them when they are tired.

I need the people in my life to give me kind words and compliment me. It isn’t vain. I want people in my life to compliment me physically. Who doesn’t? I have no problem telling the people in my life they look beautiful or handsome. Because people need that. I don’t care what anyone says.

My feelings have value. So do yours.

‘Check Your Price Tag’

So I’m sitting at my desk fighting tears.

I have real friends who really love me and I know they do. I love them too.

I can be immovable when I want my way. Which can be a good thing in pursuit of a positive goal.

But on the flip side, it can be detrimental to my soul. When I have a vision– from the contents of a gift bag I’m making for friends and family, to a picnic, to a tee-shirt photo shoot, I see the final product in my mind and I want the pieces to come together and I bend and pull and stretch and even push others with me all the way to the finish line.

Usually my visions almost always turn out even better than I expected which makes all of the moments of discomfort and craziness beyond worth it.

My vision of a happily ever after with my ex, did resurface.

I was frustrated with my friends because they didn’t understand me, but at the same time they understood me all too well. They understood my laser-like vision when I’ve decided to put my entire everything into something. Some remained quiet. Some were more vocal. I didn’t want to hear any of it and I still don’t and it’s honest. Even for some of them reading the post, I don’t really want to talk about it.

He texted me within an hour of losing his job yesterday.

And what was I doing?

Thinking about who I knew or didn’t know to help him find another job.

He was a grown man, who never solved any of my problems. He never dropped everything to fix things for me and make it all better.

But just like when he got into the car accident when we were together, I hopped on a plane in a matter of hours and I was there.

He wasn’t even hurt. The car was totaled, he was just shaken up.

But I ran in. Captain Save A Brother.

He had a difficult childhood. Most of his life was difficult. I was going to be the sunshine, the healer. The one to make up for several years of pain.

But who was I to take that on?

I’ve had difficulties too. I’ve had deep pains that I knew were impossible for others to comprehend. I had secret fears that would destroy my sleep, tighten my chest and leave me gasping for air in the middle of the night.

I’ve suffered adversity and loss.

When I was in the professional fight of my life with a serious foe trying to take me down, he was tired of me always complaining about my job. I was being paranoid that someone was trying to destroy me and what about his day?

If that was my struggle every day, I needed someone to listen and be compassionate every day. That’s what I fucking needed. I didn’t need money, I didn’t need my ass kissed. I just needed compassion for what I was going through and a co-signer to say nasty things about the chick and hold me up.

Someone out there would love me enough to work through it, even if it seemed to them like I was paranoid. Someone out there would not want me to carry that level of stress every single day. They would want to fix it, they would offer to even go to my job and punch ol girl in the face and risk jail time. But they wouldn’t blame me for being selfish when someone is stealing my ideas, trying to discredit me and fuck with my money. They would be team Me all day no matter what.

I’m upset that I love someone so much who needs me so much emotionally all the time and I give so much emotionally, even when I don’t have to, but when I’m alone and crying at night, or can’t sleep, or can’t get out of my funk, I have zero support. We haven’t been together for nearly three years and you still got all of these problems. And I’m still willing to run out in the middle of traffic. For you.

Pathetic.

I asked myself today, “When has he ever come, guns blazing to rescue or support me?”

The realization was crushing. I kept trying to think of a time when I struggled or had a major problem and aside from taking some money out of our joint account, emotionally what has he attempted to fix on my behalf? When has he rushed to come save me, protect me and whoop emotional ass to restore my piece of mind? Even at the height of our relationship, it seemed his problems were our problems and my problems were mine to fix alone. Even the ending of our relationship was clearly our problem, but I was left to deal with the aftermath of it, alone.

He does not know how to love me the way I need to be loved.

I let the bullshit cesspool of dating that I’ve been a part of for the last year or so convince me the grass was greener. That if I had him, I at least had something. Two weeks ago, yes I loved his smile, how he looked (he looked good) the familiar ways he touched me. But there was nothing substantial between then and now to suggest he’s changed or he’s grown or he’s any better than he was when he broke my heart and ran off like a little boy and our engagement ended.

So yesterday, when he unloaded yet another problem, I did nothing but wonder if he’d downward spiral, get down on himself or drink too much and do something dumb.

Am I a fucking parole officer? A babysitter?

He’s 31.

I am a woman with needs and desires and hopes and dreams. I don’t mind giving and sharing and loving, but I need it back. I need it back like I need water and air.

I have no clue where my husband is. But I know without a doubt this world is difficult. I need someone who is just as strong if not stronger than me to help me pull the load and then pull me and the load when I just can’t go any further. I’m a woman. I shouldn’t be pulling no grown ass capable man and the load too, all the time, everyday.

So I don’t know if he’s just emotionally lazy or if he has real problems. It’s probably both. But either way, as one friend pointed out this morning, it’s not on me.

Me: He admitted he didn’t fight for me. I’m worth fighting for and going out on a limb for.

Her: So you should check your price tag.

Mellody Hobson Lucas would never stand for no shit like that.

Tweet “Enough”

“Black Don’t Crack, But You Should Start Early, For Only $500…”

I knew I was in trouble when the siren call of the mall was completely drowning out that of the gym during the later hours of work yesterday.

So I listened. After all, the day after tomorrow, I will be in the fabulous city of New Orleans for the Essence Music Festival.

This will be the third time I’m going. I went for the first time in 2005, and then again in 2008.

Let me break this down for you. The Essence Music Festival is always held fourth of July weekend and draws hundreds of thousands of primarily black women from all over.

This straight up is black woman/girlfriends/exhale weekend. It’s a spring break for black chicks with wall-to-wall concerts with the most amazing R&B, neo-soul, jazz and gospel artists on the planet. Beyoncé is headlining. That alone is a reason to go, but I’m foaming at the mouth to see the following artists:

Friday, July 5: Maxwell, Jill Scott, LL Cool J and Brandy will take the mainstage. While Blackstreet, Anthony David, Les Nubians, Emeli Sande, Maya Azucena, Simphiwe Dana, Mali Music, Shamarr Allen and The Underdawgs will perform in the superlounges.

Saturday, July 6: New Edition, Charlie Wilson, Trey Songz, Keyshia Cole and Solange will grace the mainstage. Faith Evans, Bridget Kelly, Big Daddy Kane, F. Stokes, PJ Morton, Jody Watley, Leela James and Avery*Sunshine will rock the superlounges.

Sunday, July 7: Beyoncé, Janelle Monáe and supergroup TGT (Tyrese, Ginuwine and Tank) will storm the mainstage while Rachelle Ferrell, Mia Borders, Mint Condition, Luke James, Daley, Tamia, Kourtney Heart, Greta Prince and Alice Smith perform in the superlounges.

http://www.essence.com/2013/04/04/2013-essence-festival-night-night-concert-schedule-revealed/

Let’s also keep in mind that every year I’ve gone, I’ve gone with dear friends that I really love. We’ve enjoyed the amazing food that only New Orleans can offer (including Brothers chicken, the most amazing chicken you can buy in a convenience store 24 hours for like $3 for a three-piece), the drinks (I will have a hurricane or a hand grenade or both at nearly all times) and just the fun and revelry of being in such a sexy, awesome, historic city.

This year is the first year I won’t be with one of my most fabulous travel partners. I’m going to miss her. Instead, I’m accompanied by some EMF virgins- my college roommate, and two older cousins. These ladies are a lot of fun, so I’m sure they will bring an interesting vibe to all of the festivities.

This will also be the first year I actually spring for nicer seats at the concerts, so it’s going to be cool to enjoy that perk. I had loads of fun in the nosebleeds getting plastered and making friends with the bartender, but it’s nice to take it up a notch in that department.

Because there are droves and droves of women, men make it their business to come and take advantage of women loosening up because they are on vacation and in New Orleans, fueled by liquor and the atmosphere.

I won’t lie. I’ve packed short, shorts, revealing tops and a freakum dress or two. I’m ready to get loose. I’ve got cute flats, breezy summer dresses (truth be told I’ve been shopping for this trip since March.)

But the initial inspiration for today’s post comes from my visit to the mall. A sweet charismatic young lady got me to walk over to her kiosk for high-end, paraben free, mineral make up.

Her presentation was impressive. I did enjoy how the eyeshadow could transform to a lip gloss with just a little bit of water. I was most impressed with the foundation.

I won’t lie. I hate make up and I want things to be as simple as possible. If someone can help me find a foundation, that’s half the battle and that’s why I let her do her thing, and that’s why I forked over the ridiculous amount of money for it. It was light and it did make my skin look great and naturally glowy.

But what killed me was her partner who was giving me a facial with all of this stuff that’s supposed to tighten my face and fight aging. He went on and on about botox and how even at the tender age of 31, the key is to start with all these creams and gels.

“You look great, you look beautiful. But everyone thinks in 20s and 30s they don’t have to start with the creams. In 40s and 50s, you are already too late. You must start now. Black don’t crack right? But you should start early. For $500 I will give you…”

And he starts stacking boxes of so many products, I just couldn’t take it and I knew for damn sure I wasn’t going to spend $500 on any of that mess. I’d buy a new bag or some damn Jimmy Choos before I spend that on those kinds of products. Beauty products are not my drug of choice. They just aren’t.

The women in my family age beautifully. My late aunt was a faithful Oil of Olay user. So I’ma stick to that and my occasional bentonite clay mask.

He can go somewhere with all of that.

AINT NOBODY GOT TIME FOR THAT, SIR!

So I would like to share a few tips for the newbies.

You need flats. Or wedges you know you are comfy walking or standing in (standing particularly if you hang in the superlounges). Most people walk to the Superdome every night because the weather is awesome, the people watching is great and most people want to burn off the calories from all of the amazing food. Now for the more practical reason. Traffic near and around the Superdome is stupid. You’ll just be sitting in your cab. You’ll get there faster if you walk. If your hotel is in a mile radius, hoof it.

DRINK LOTS OF WATER. I know, you are going to be taking down those hurricanes and hand grenades, but seriously, get you some water, you are going to need it.

Sundresses are the way to go. It’s a music festival, they are cute and sexy and women of all sizes usually look pretty nice in them. You feel better when you catch a breeze. Trying to teeter around in heels or things that are too tight, you are going to end up looking silly as the night goes on, unless you have VIP tickets. Keep it simple.

Buddy system. Ladies, you are grown, but seriously stick with at least one other person in your party at all times. It’s easy to get lost. Put your section number in your phone and text it to yourself. One of my homies came up with the brilliant idea of texting the address and room number of our hotel to herself. I’d suggest that too. The street names can be hard to pronounce anyway and when you are stumbling in with the sun in the a.m. remembering your room number is harder than it looks.

Keep your cell phone charged. For some reason, I remember my service being spotty in the Superdome. But who needs a phone? It’s too loud to talk. Just use it for selfies and cute pics with the homies.

Safe sex. That’s a no-brainer. Let’s keep it real. People relax their standards during these kinds of trips. Wrap it up. No exceptions.

It’s always a good idea to have blotting papers and hand sanitizer. The heat and the nastiness of Burbon street will get all up on ya. It’s nice to be able to freshen up a little.

No large bags. You do not want to be fumbling with a huge handbag. Get yourself a cute, small cross body or a wristlet with just enough room your id, cash, cards, room key, phone, lip gloss and blotting papers and hand sanitizer.

Carry a little cash. The restaurants are packed. If you and your party pay in cash you can get the hell out a lot faster. Also if you pay in cash, you may be able to haggle with the fantastic street vendors for art and various things. Now, I’ve never managed to make it to the convention center, but this year, I plan to check out the day time events over there. It should be pretty cool. So I don’t have tips for that.

Oh yes! The superdome is freezing. A cute cardi is a must.

So if you’re going, have a fantastic and safe time! It’s going to be amazing!!!

xoxox

 

 

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…

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.