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I just finished eating dinner. I washed it all down with a gin and ginger ale in an effort to keep things cool and in control. This is a terrible habit that began years ago and I’m a bit ashamed for not being totally upfront about it. While I do not take mood-altering medication, I do drink—probably heavily. I haven’t decided how much of a problem it is. I do know, that it is frustrating for me. I am sure there are women out there that have fought similar battles and are single mothers that can deal with the same hardships in stride. At some point in my life I’ve had to accept that I am soft hearted. I don’t feel exactly like the rest and I’m not able to recover as quickly. To be strong…

OK, so one thing about little miss crazy that wrote me a nasty note and left it on my car. I’ve since calmed down and realized that while I want violence to be the answer, I can’t justify stooping to such ratchet levels– but that’s not what I’m going to talk about today. In the infamous note, homegirl referred to my dude as a “corny ass nigga” (in a half-assed attempt to limit cursing and the N-word on the blog I will reference the word as CAN). My question of the day is: OK, so what’s wrong with a CAN??

Throughout my strange dating life I have definitely showed a history of CAN collecting. Sure, I’ve dated all types of men, but the ones I really hit it off with and wanted to retain for relationship building were absolutely CANs. Case and point: the baby daddies. My 8 year old’s father still likes the Power…

I’ve been reading a lot of shitty dating books lately. As is my way, I’ve honed in on something and allowed myself to completely obsess about it. I apologize to those who aren’t really interested in the topic but I get approached so much, it made me realize that I should probably figure out my stance on the whole thing. (That sentence sounds arrogant, but I know I’m no Rihanna and that I only get approached a lot because there are a lot of really aggressive men in the area I live in. They aren’t necessarily interested in ME but any warm vagina in general).

Image from: dailydatingadvice.com 

I never really had to bother dating at all. High school was a bust, no one was interested so there was no learning experience there. After high school apparently there were guys interested but I was in my own world. I…

Image from: oneyearartjournal.blogspot.com

The main reasons I prefer to work in downtown Washington, DC is, of course, all the colorful characters I get to meet. When I was 19 and landed my first temp job in the city I had to walk to the bank to make a deposit everyday, and everyday I would take the long route. It was on those trips I met a homeless guy named Ron that was kind of crazy in the head but totally loveable. For whatever reason, I have softness in my heart for the homeless and hungry. It physically hurts me to watch others walk by everyday as if the homeless don’t even exist. As if their speaking voices are on mute or another frequency from that of the rest of the world; no one is listening.

I understand on some level that it’s not always feasible to give away cash to…

I was in the grocery store with one of my closest guy friends, in the check-out line after spending our entire shopping time talking about the latest woes of my love life. I was knee deep in the online dating lifestyle and I still couldn’t figure out what exactly I was getting out of the situation. My online messaging system seemed to be going off nonstop and before I could respond to one I was receiving a message from another. Meanwhile, the guys that I actually corresponded with on the phone didn’t seem to be really doing anything but randomly checking in with me. My reaction to this was like a crack addict looking for the next high—I was beginning to feel like I needed to cycle in a new batch of men to satisfy my need for attention!

I pushed the cart through the store lamenting to my homie…

Image from: atlantablackstar.com

I’m nervous but I’m calm. My breathing is even. My thoughts center around my stomach—I don’t want him to touch it. But you can’t censor others while in the throes of passion so I watch as his hand travels the length of my side, caresses around and finds my belly and squeezes the fleshy substance there. I have to bite my tongue to keep from saying something overly self-conscious and perhaps ruining the moment. I am calm on the outside but too shy and afraid to touch him just yet.

I usually like to offer a full body massage—it’s a way to familiarize myself with someone’s body for nonsexual purposes and it clears my head and relieves tension. There is something about the feel of someone’s skin underneath the palm of your hand or directly against yours that is enough to be a complete pleasure overload. But…