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‘I’d love to get out of the game. Be wonderful and take me out of the game, please.”

I told him, “I’d love to be out of the game. In fact, be wonderful and take me out of the game.”

Basically, I kept dancing around his question of what I was doing later, because I had a date. Or at least, I thought I had a date.

I got stood up. And I wouldn’t dare treat this dude like sloppy seconds and ask him out after the fact. He’d totally call me out for it. But he figured I had something else lined up and called me out anyway.

He said it was no big deal and that he expected that I had options. That I could at least appreciate.

The irony of the fact that this guy grew up in the same tiny hick town from which my dad’s entire family started on this earth was beyond fascinating. We did the initial check to make sure our blood lines didn’t cross. I’m still not completely convinced, but the last name wasn’t among most of the names tossed around, so I was willing to proceed.

Our conversations had been solid. He wanted to solidify a date in the coming days, and thankfully he wants to go out tonight.

I also happened upon a neighbor through my POF travels. He was the one who had the nerve to stand me up, which is absurd, because I can stand on my balcony and basically look into his.

After our successful dinner at an Indian restaurant Friday night, we both watched each other as we drove into the complex, curious as to just how close we actually was. I pulled into a space, he pulled into a space, I walked towards my building, he walked towards his, then we met in the middle of the lot.

If both of us stand on our balconies, we can literally wave at each other. He’s lived in the complex for nearly as long as I have and I’ve never met this dude ever. It was crazy.

I will say this… and as I type, he’s apologizing via text. I like his smile. I was smiling all through dinner because I already felt it in my bones, that if the opportunity was right, I’d give him some.

You can imagine my disappointment when he totally with no warning stood me up for a movie. Radio silence. Um you check the movie times, “Ok.”  Then nothing for hours. I refuse to keep following up. So I stayed inside, poured the wine and watched the Golden Globes, giving occasional Twitter commentary.

But that doesn’t even take the cake. Me and the mad scientist went at it. I’ve noticed he is an insecure man. I’ll try to break this down as quickly as possible.

He was having a horrible week, so I offered to cook him dinner Thursday night. Thursday afternoon he informed me he wouldn’t be able to make it, but we should get together on Friday. Well, I was working late so I told him I wouldn’t feel like cooking, but I really wanted some Indian food.

Because he had major flooding in his basement, he had to reallocate funds to home repairs and said he was low on cash. I told him that I’d have no trouble treating especially since he was having such a rough week.

So even in trying to go over the logistics of getting together, we were both becoming increasingly frustrated with one another. I tried in my sweetest voice to ask him what would be the most ideal situation for him and I’d do it, and he complained about finding parking in my neighborhood. So I was through. I was over it. And I rescinded my offer.

Before rescinding my offer I told him, “You see that I tried, I asked you 50 different ways how to make this work.”

So I went to dinner with my neighbor and had a great time.

The next day mad scientist texts me while I’m out with my friends and I don’t answer. So by sunday he sends me a message saying, “I guess you have nothing else to say to me, if so let me know.”

I respond. “I don’t have anything else to say.”

Then he says, “So you’re done, correct.”

“I’m done. I don’t think I can ever make you happy.”

“Make me happy, what is that supposed to mean?”

So this went on and I was getting further annoyed. I told him that truth be told he was acting like my ex and I didn’t like how that was making me feel dealing with a moody person and trying to do nice things for them and they still complain. I wasn’t going to do it.

So he latched on to me comparing him to my ex, called me “ludicrous” because he was having a tough time and he wanted to confirm again that I was indeed finished with him. I was getting more upset that he needed to ask me three times, when the previous two I had already said I was done.

Last night, I really went to bed thinking that I hate dating. That I want it to be over.

I wondered if something was wrong with me. I really did. There’s no lack of men. Fine, they are easy to find. But geez. The meshing has been the trouble. I wonder how much I changed. I wondered if I was losing my ability to go along and get along and I was just being difficult. But, I don’t think I am.

I am impatient. I do want something wonderful to happen and I want to be in the bubble. The happy bubble o love… not even love but intense like where the person is all about you and wants to make you happy and you want to do the same.

I guess I do want it too badly. I guess as the mad scientist pointed out, I have let dating in DC get to me and it’s stinking up my aura.


On to the Next: Online Dating Makes It Easier to Throw the Peace Sign

I always have a saying that when a date is going bad, “you gotta take your purse and exit.” I often use that in a literal and proverbial sense.

A wise cousin once said to me, online dating can be a curse because you meet so many people and if you don’t like something about them right away, you can start up something new immediately. You aren’t really seriously giving anyone a real chance.

She may be on to something.

Even while dealing with this “Mad Scientist” situation, my options are open. I actually have too many options and they flood my pof account daily.

I think I’m selective, but it’s not unusual for me to engage in conversations with three men at a time. There are two men who are ready to be promoted to phone conversations, and I had to laugh. They both sent me the let’s talk on the phone message, within minutes of each other.

Mad scientist mentioned me wanting something “shiny” and saying he is not that. But I think it’s a little hypocritical and makes me seem basic, when he said himself, he doesn’t want to get bored by a person. To me that’s like Miley Cyrus calling Kim Kardashian an attention whore, just in Latin.

But meeting someone new can give you hope that they might actually be cool and worth spending time with. But I have left a lot of text messages and voicemails unanswered because someone newer and shinier came along.

But isn’t that the point of dating? Shouldn’t a person meet a bunch of different people, talk to them gather the vibe and then weed out the ones that don’t spark? I think so. And just as I check my messages on POF, I see the same three guys in my rotation online at the same time as me, yet they aren’t always in conversation with me. I’m just doing what the Romans are doing. They are dropping conversations with me, as they meet people who better fit into what they like, just as I am.

It’s a strange world we are in right now. It feels as if there truly are no rules and we have to just fend for ourselves.

Mad scientist was right about one thing. There is a script. I do feel like a couple of times a day, when I’m on the site, I’m repeating my “dating elevator pitch.” Where I’m from. How long I’ve been in the area. What I do for a living. What I like to do for fun. What school I attended. Why I’m single. And asking the same questions in return.

I was thinking about something while lying in bed. How I want to forget what it feels like to want love. I remember when I was in love, there were moments I just stopped to savor it, and I tried to remember what it was like when I felt so lonely or when I was waiting for the person I was with. And no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t remember that feeling. I was relieved that I couldn’t remember, and I said that life is cyclical, the likelihood is high that I’ll feel that way again and be unable to feel the way I feel now, so yup, I’ll breathe it in. I’ll snuggle in closer while he sleeps and I’ll listen to him breathe. And when he looks at me the way he looks at me, I will eat it all up. I will eat it all up. When he takes my hand, I’m going to fight to remember just how it feels because this moment will slip away. And when I am alone and wanting to remember so bad, I won’t be able to, but I’ll know that it happened. I’ll know at that time it was real.

Breakthrough or Breakup?

For some reason, I have been blessed and cursed with the ability to feel absolutely tortured when something in my life is not working right.

I guess that mechanism forces me to change my lot in life and get something better. It forces me not to settle.

This holiday season was a good one for me. I purchased a brand new car that I really love, I got to spend a lot of time with family and friends and it was a very good feeling. This year, I didn’t concentrate so much on the giving and receiving of gifts, it was just simple.

Actually life back home seemed super simple. It was nice to be off and still get paid, do things like go with my dad to get his eyes checked after seven dang years and get new glasses. It was nice to wake up to hot tea on my nightstand, lovingly prepared by my mom.

Having some of my closest friends less than five minutes away and running out for lunch or dinner or to go shopping was just fantastic.

So as I knew it would happen, coming back to my single life was going to be an adjustment.

I have friends here, and they are great. There’s work. And that’s another ball of wax. There’s my horrible love life, which may or may not have taken a turn for the better after having it out with old boy yesterday.

We had a discussion that wore me out. There’s a strange part of me that enjoyed the fact that he was taking the time to think and argue. There was another part of me that said, why do I keep wanting to deal with men who do this? They tend to make me question myself but usually it ends up making me feel insecure.

But let me back it up.

My vacation brain is so bad, I can’t remember the nick name I gave him. But this was the mad scientist.

Over the weekend, I sent him a text we chatted back and forth. I asked him what he was up to, he said he was chillin and barely getting out of bed. I asked him if he wanted to do something that day. Hours later he gets back to me, but wants to hang out at Friday’s by my house at 11 p.m.

Back to this late night crap. I was reluctant, but since I had already been accused of being inflexible by another jerk, I said I’d let it go.

When I sent a text to confirm around 1040, he said he was still wrapping things up and needed another hour.

I was heated. I wasn’t about to go to Friday’s at midnight. I was already feeling some kind of way about us never hanging out in daylight hours. So I told him no thanks. I was staying home.

He asked me why and I told him that I don’t like feeling like he only wants to hang out with me late at night. And that already asking me to go out at 11, when he had all day to do something with me was wrong. It was even more inconsiderate to ask me to wait another hour after I agreed to 11.

Then he sends me a screenshot from a relative from much earlier in the day saying that his great uncle died.

I told him that I was sorry to hear about the uncle and that I didn’t know.

He says nevermind. Cool and enjoy your night.

At that point I went off. I felt like I shouldn’t have been just shut down, regardless of the dead great uncle.

And then I heard nothing.

The next day I got a phone call and on the other end he said he had a prepared statement.

I was already not up for hearing a “prepared statement.” He said before he shared his statement, he did want me to clarify the things in my texts so his statement would still be accurate. But he said I could speak on anything I said besides the always wanting to hang out late thing.

I protested that it was all linked together.

I told him that aside from his constant joking around I know nothing about him. And maybe I didn’t ask enough questions. But I feel like I know nothing and am not allowed to know anything.

That is the nutshell.

He first goes on to say that all of this is really, really simple and I’m making it complicated. He says he doesn’t just let anyone in his home.

He said he would answer any question I’d ask him, I’d just have to ask. If I want to know more about him, ask.

He said that dating in DC has gotten to me, and that he won’t follow some script that people have been making up in this dating world. It’s not that complicated.

He asked me why I was single. I mentioned timing.  I mentioned not settling. I mentioned feeling like I don’t fit into how other people think in the dating world right now and I feel like a complete outcast for it. How I’m accused of being a prude because I don’t want to send naked photos of myself, or if I tell a man it’s not cool to send me photos or videos of his junk. It’s exhausting, I said. I was nearly in tears. And when I finished, he told me my answer was four minutes long.

I was starting to get mad again that he timed my response. “You timed my response? Wow. Thanks.”

Then he said, “Ask me why I’m single.”

I said, “Why are you single?”

“Because the people I like don’t like me and the people who like me I don’t like.”

I said, “That’s it.”

He said, “That’s it.”

I said, “Did it ever occur to you that the people who don’t like you are wack or shallow or stupid?”

“That’s not my problem.”

“Well, what’s wrong with the people you don’t like?”

“They don’t have a degree, they have kids, they have a flat butt, they have bad breath, I don’t like their hair.”

“Well damn. I mean I guess if I laid out my list of what I don’t like it would sound that bad too.”

“Why do you think it’s a bad thing that you don’t think like everyone else? Why can’t that be an advantage? From the way you are talking, it doesn’t even seem like you see it as an advantage.”

“I don’t necessarily think it’s a bad thing, I just feel like I’m outnumbered.”

More discussion was had. He brought up interesting points that I didn’t disagree with. But when it was my turn to answer, I stumbled. I said, “It’s hard to even say how I feel about something because after you’ve given a full prepared statement and dissertation about why what you are saying is right, it’s like I stumble through my words, I sound stupid.”

“It’s not that complicated. Why are you afraid to sound stupid? Why do you think what you have to say is stupid in comparison to what I’m saying? The problem with people especially in this area is pride. You keep talking about wanting to figure me out. I’m a scientist, once I’ve figured something out, I’ve assigned a use for it and I’m done, I’m on to the next thing. Why do you want to be figured out? Why would you want someone to just figure you out? You can’t have possibly figured out your family and your friends and you’ve known them for a really long time. We are flawed, you have great traits and bad traits. It’s a good thing to still be intriguing. If I can figure you out, I have no use for you. You will bore me. That’s a bad thing.”

So I’m stuck. I’m not sure how to feel right now. Was that a compliment?





What’s Your Zodiac Sign, Baby?

I have a confession.

Back when I was a student at Howard, there was a moment in time that everyone I knew had a copy of “Black Love Signs” in their dorm room or on their apartment shelf.

It was the must-have book aside from the ever ubiquitous required reading of “Things Fall Apart.”

Every time and I mean every time a new love interest came into our lives and we wanted it to actually go somewhere, we’d refer to the book.

And if things were starting to go downhill, we’d refer to the book and agree that yup, we weren’t really THAT compatible to begin with. The book warned us.

Some people may think our blind devotion to that book was absolutely a bunch of malarkey, but we believed it. Oh man. We consulted that thing like a Bible. So sad. The author should have made a pocket or purse version. We would have purchased it.

And truth be told, I didn’t realize I liked the “Wild Card” as much as I did, until I happened to look up our compatibility on the internet earlier today. I found myself laughing at myself.

Looking it up and hoping for the best reminded me of how faithfully, we’d consult and instruct our friends to consult “the book.” And we’d flip through the pages intensely asking again, “When is his birthday? Oooh, ooh ok. Ok.”

But now that I’m older, and have done a lot of dating and have been through the process of being in serious relationships and picking apart how I was in those relationships, just looking at any material on the Aquarian woman, kind of trips me out.

A lot of what they say about Aquarian women tends to kind of hold true about me and has a lasting impact on how I tackle relationships and people. So is it a bunch of bunk?

If you think it’s a bunch of bunk, it is. If you think there’s something to it, there’s something to it.

Unlike my college days, I don’t swear by every single thing. Individuals are just that and how we mesh or don’t mesh with other people mostly depends on just that, individuality, life experiences, etc.

But, to me, it’s still a whole lot of fun!

Do you take into account a person’s zodiac sign in terms of compatibility? Do you even consider it out of curiosity, like me? Be honest!!!

“Signs” Beyonce. Don’t even act like you weren’t paying close attention to this jam!!

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.


So last night, after making some dinner, one of my friends stopped by. She laid on my couch stretched out, I at my table with a fresh drink, hands on my head.

As usual, we were talking about relationships.

I said I was tired.

I said I thought I was healed from my broken engagement which basically happened two years ago. I wondered what was wrong with me? Wasn’t I better? Why isn’t anyone I’m seeing/interacting with simply good enough?

What else do I have to do.

When my friend kindly suggested that I “work on myself” that’s when I lost it. And I started to cry.

“Work on myself? That’s what I’ve been doing for the last two years! In fact, I’m tired of myself. I’m with myself all day long, all night. I’m sick of working on myself. I’ve been praying and fasting and working out and trying to launch businesses or finding classes, or looking for volunteer opportunities. I’M TIRED OF WORKING ON MYSELF.”

I even told her that I hated to admit that I’d become one of those women fixated on finding the one. I confessed that it consumed my thoughts day and night, turning me into what I didn’t want to be.

One of those chicks.

My homie thumbed through my bookshelf, made me throw out an old bridal magazine I ran to buy a week after I got engaged– I promptly threw it in the trash– and then she handed me “Oh, The Places You’ll Go,” by Dr. Seuss.

She said I had to read it aloud.

When I got to certain parts, with the fervor of an old church deacon, she’d tell me to read it again.

The book was given to me as a gift from my aunt and uncle when I graduated from college. The words are real and inspirational and Dr. Seuss was indeed a genius and gifted.

It was a reminder that life is tough and that feeling lost and defeated does happen. But we have to keep going.

I am putting a lot of pressure on myself and on the men I’m dating. I need a break.

I need to not take it all so seriously and I know that’s easier said than done.

Another friend pointed out that I am not my best self right now and that’s why I’m not attracting what it is that I want.

At the Essence Fest, I had the pleasure of sitting in a packed conference hall to watch life coach, Iyanla Van Zant share her words of wisdom. She kept saying over and over that our lives is a series of constant correction.

So whether we want to or not, as long as we breathe there’s something to fix, to make better. That concept resonated with me because it’s one of the cornerstones of my tee-shirt brand, the concept of correction and self-improvement.

Last night, I was rejecting that out loud. Does that make me a hypocrite?

No, it makes me human.

Iyanla also kept repeating the words, “Do the work.” “Do the work.”

Can we have a night where we breakdown? Can we have a day where we cry?


But we’ve got to find the strength to get up, face another day and do the work.

The work doesn’t have to be monumental. It’s doing what you can that particular day.

My first act of doing the work has been to seriously look up programs at my community college to take in the fall.

The next is thinking of an action plan for my job. My goals, what I’d like to try and what I’d like to take on.

Getting back to my tee-shirt business and officially launching the site.

I’ll keep it light with the guys I meet online.

The first order of business, which I just did, was let the guy I went out with Friday know that I’m not interested. I did it by text. I’m a jerk. But I want to be done with it. He tried calling me a few times over the weekend. And sent a text today.

I’m sure he’s upset. But I don’t know what else to do. I can’t go on like this.

The inspiration from today’s post is an old joint from Mariah Carey.

Why Am I Really Alone?

Over the weekend, I’ve had a few conversations with some folks that have been somewhat eye-opening.

Earlier in the week, I had another back and forth with Kyle Barker. He said a few things that upset me as usual, but also as usual it made me think a few days later.

I talked to him about my online dating experiences and what I want and need. He went on this whole speech about how I treat him and how I probably treat the guys I’m talking to online the same way.

I told him that I was sweet as pie to the other guys, but I tend to find something wrong with all of them.

I told him I only give back what’s put out there to me and that’s why we are the way we are.

To which he replied, “original.”

I started to get mad. Why should he get more from me when he barely musters up enough to meet me for dinner or be available when I actually want him to be?

But he ended up saying something to the effect of me having extremes.

At first I thought he was full of crap and just poking me with a stick as usual.

But as time has gone on, I realize I’m moody.

When I’m high, I’m high. I want to be around people, I want to give them my love an affection, I want to go on 100.

But when I’m down, I’m down. I want to be alone, even when people offer themselves to me. And when I’m in those moods, I know I can’t give to the people in my life. And sometimes those moments have clashed, and I’ve fallen short of being the good friend that particular day.

I’m edgy, I’m testy and I’m angry that the people in my life can’t soldier on, pick up the pieces and get it together. But just like me, they are hurt too.

So I’ve told my friends, honestly when I have nothing to give and I apologize and I hope that another one of their friends can pick up the slack. I later vow to really be there, the next time. This time, I just couldn’t do it.

I keep learning something over and over about online dating and about men.

Men love happy women.

Men love women who are like happy all of the time, and who can continuously eat shit over and over and still smile.

And women, we try. We try so hard to fake it until we make it.

We genuinely want to be happy, but shit gets on our nerves. Life is difficult. We work hard, we have drama at work.

We have dreams deferred and student loan debt.

We want to make the people in our lives proud, we want to make ourselves proud.

We want to be good friends and sisters, daughters and wives and mothers.

We want to be attractive and desired. We want to eat fried food.

There are so many pressures on not just women, but people.

And when we want a man, or we want to impress one, and the older we get, the more we know how high the risk is of getting hurt is, it’s easy to be jaded.

But we lie to win the man.

Men like happy women.

We go along to get along. We stifle, we suppress. Then when we let it all out, the men we’ve won and wooed are surprised, they feel like they’ve been tricked and here comes the drama. Their expectations of drama free happy chick are unreasonable, and us trying to be that is unreasonable. And maybe I have been extra reckless with my words to see who will stick around. Who will be tough enough. Who can handle me, who can be steady when I’m up and down.

I’m a fucking after school special on foster kids testing their new parents to see if they will love them unconditionally.

I need some wonderful man to hug me while I kick and scream and call him names, and him hold me tight and tell me he can do this all day and all night because he isn’t going anywhere. I am not evil, or bad or unworthy or too picky or too neurotic or too broken because of my past. I am beautiful and loved and he will love me. Let it all out.

Kyle Barker said something about not being so raw and being more tactful. Once again, after years of doing this dance with this man, I’m quite raw. There’s no room for pretense in my opinion. Why can’t men see my honesty as that? Why can’t they see that as me being secure in myself and sharing my realness. It doesn’t have to dull the fantasy, but what about the maturity of life.

I can’t be fake anymore. I can’t.

I’m crass. A little nasty. A little spiritual, a little conservative. Sometimes I’m a huge contradiction. I can be moody and angry and not satisfied. I can be impatient. I can go off the deep end. I can think too much.

But I love. I love deeply. When people I love are hurting, I hurt for them. I cry for them, I pray for them. I want to make them baskets and cook for them or find their favorite hot sauce.

I had to laugh at myself for a recent text exchange I had with a guy who I really can’t peg. I’m growing bored with him already. He hasn’t stepped up. We were flirtatious on Skype, but things started heading south when he sent me a text at 2:30 a.m. asking me what I’m doing.

This morning.

Him: Good morning. How r u

Me: I’m awesome, how are you?

I’m good. Y r u awesome?

Because I am. It’s a short week. Got things to feel awesome about. I’m a fucking rockstar today. Bout to stunt on these office hoes.

LOL Hahahaha What you wearing

White jeans, cute top, cute shoes

And under that

A large, beating heart 🙂

Lol was that forward

Forward my dearest is texting me at 230 am. Yes that was forward too. But it all depends on how honest you are about what you think you want to get out of knowing me. If you just wanted to smash and wanted to see if I did too, I guess that’s proper behavior.

So after that, I got no response. I don’t think I’ll hear from him again. Poor thing.

And poor Dabnis hit me up yesterday asking if I was ok, to which I responded I’ve been moody. Then he said something about God not leaving us alone. It was a sweet thing to say and he was right. God doesn’t leave us alone. But for some reason, I don’t want the man who wants to get to know me. I’m terrible.

Over and over, I’ve met “nice” guys and I’ve blamed no attraction, or them being too into me, or them not being intellectual enough, or too old or too young.

Another friend mentioned that yes, I’ve been trying. “See, I have been trying. Yes! I’ve been putting myself out there.”

But I’ve kind of been acting like the kid who wants to get credit for gym class just for changing.

So I’ve been dressing for gym to get just enough credit. But I’m not really trying to ace the class. I’ve been going out on meaningless dates, having meaningless conversations, but not going for the quality.

I’m expecting people to accept me as I am, but who am I being right now? Maybe it’s not the real me.

Maybe that’s why I’m alone.

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.

Short Post: I Realized I Have A Relationship Elevator Pitch

When you are online dating, you find yourself repeating the same song and dance over and over. And if you are speaking with someone you are interested in, you give a little more, you give more details, more color.

As I meet new men almost everyday online who see my profile and want to say hello, I’m realizing something very interesting.

It’s almost like the “elevator pitch” business people have to give quickly and with impact to make a deal, or develop a new business opportunity with someone who can take them to the next level.

Saying over and over again what you are looking for and what you want and don’t want in a relationship and in a partner is actually quite powerful.

I was thinking to myself that, doing this is basically like an affirmation and the more I do it, I think the more that type of man will come and enter my life, and it will give those who aren’t on my program the chance to exit peacefully and quietly, no hurt feelings.

There is a wonderful liberation in plainly saying, this is what I want. This is what I don’t want.

You don’t have to be a jerk about it or have a super specific, super long list, because no one really wants to hear that. But if you lay down some serious must-haves and deal-breakers it helps. I’ve also found that it’s important to not just drone on about what you don’t want, but talk about the qualities you like and how those qualities make you feel.

Splitting Hairs

***Warning. Mature, graphic sexual content. Stop now if you get offended easily.

When you really love people, even if you do for them something you didn’t feel like doing, you know you’ll feel worse if you don’t do it for them anyway, your feelings, time, money, lack of energy be damned.

And when you do it, you are actually glad you pushed through to make the person you love happy and your relationship lives to see another day.

It’s really quite simple. It’s the theory of reciprocity is the foundation of truly loving someone and being an active participant in a relationship.

Nothing is free.

People, with the exception of babies, do have to earn your love and the perks that come with it.

Even as a child grows and learns to share, show and give love, parents are getting a return on their investment too.

If this person loves you just as much as you love them, you can think of a million moments where they were in the same position and dug deep for you and in my opinion, that, more than just the warm, fuzzy, feeling we confuse as love is what propels us to fight the urge to be lazy, selfish bastards and give that person what it is they desire.

So I have all kinds of problems with people who have no real history with me making demands, or asking me to change myself or straight up asking me for anything or expecting anything, or having critiques about me.

Expect nothing, appreciate everything.

I was placed in a very uncomfortable position this morning and via text, of all places. I should have woken up to a “good morning beautiful text.”

Instead I was told I’d get more head if I went completely bald.

If you’ve been with me on this blog for a long time, you know how I feel about shaving and men coming out of their faces making demands on how I maintain my yard. https://29tolife.wordpress.com/2012/08/23/tmi-alert-a-hairy-situation/

I took a deep breath and shared my views and how like a box of chocolates, hey, depending on how I’m feeling you never know what you’re going to get.

I don’t want anyone to choke on a hairball, but to hold my pleasure hostage and impede one of the most successful methods of getting me off, because you want me to look like a porn star, or six-year-old, or six-year-old porn star, I got beef.

All I ask is that you keep yours clean and wash your balls and under your balls.

This expectation of women makes me angry. And when you tell me what to do with my nether regions, I feel like it’s an omen of things to come. I feel like there’s some control stuff going on and you want to see how much I bend to what you want.

Fortunately, I know better. I’ve had men in my life who loved it any way I served it up.

One even liked it after I worked out, because the sweat turned him on.

So having enough confidence in myself this time has made me speak up and set the record straight.

Some women might say, hey, it’s not that big of a deal. You want the guy to eat you out right? He wants to eat you out? He’s successful, and wants to do it. Do your part so he wants to continue to do it. Take the L. Someone else will keep it bald and buff it everyday to have a man like that.

And that’s a valid point.

I just don’t appreciate the double standard. Maybe some days I don’t want to squirm in my seat at my desk because of the coarse, prickly hairs growing in that I can’t scratch in public. I’m sure they will frown upon me putting a back scratcher in my pants. Someone will be offended.

Thing is, I’m not anti grooming down there. I’m not.

I’m particularly pissed at his specificity to the matter. And I’m livid at having to read this shit at 7 a.m. ( Here’s some context. This all started from a conversation last night about me baking pies, and him asking if I want him to eat my pie again…)

He said bald.

So with that in my mind, he acknowledged that I had maintenance going on down there and that he wasn’t picking hairs out of his teeth, but in order for me to enjoy his services more regularly, I had to go all the way.

I said what I had to say honestly and then I left it at that.

But I was fuming for most of the morning, including now.

We are supposed to go see a movie tomorrow night. But I’m feeling some kind of way. Am I being unrealistic and immature? Or do I have the right to feel comfortable sexually?

That’s a no-brainer. I want to feel comfortable.

And maybe he isn’t the one. Maybe for just the right one, I’d get a Brazilian every day. I doubt it, because I feel the right one is going to love me, and my puss no matter what kind of hairstyle she’s rocking that week.

I ranted to a close male friend and he confirmed that I was right.

But now this has me thinking, what may not be a big deal to other people is a big deal to me. Every time I’ve tried to please other people who did not go out of their way to sincerely please me, left bitter, awful tastes in my mouth that spread resentment all over my body like an aggressive virus.

So instead of questioning my ability to love, my capacity for giving and my aptitude for submission to a future husband, I’m going to be selfish for a moment and be a grown woman for once and say, “I want what I want. Someone is going to give me that.”

I’ve also decided that people who really love you and know what you like, love and totally hate, they simply won’t ask you to do something they know you don’t like. They wouldn’t want to put you through that much of an inconvenience.

At least that’s how I feel and that’s how I treat the ones I love.

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