The Woodwork

The woodwork is the magical place men go to live whenever your romantic involvement with them comes to an “end”. Of course the word end is in quotation marks because maybe things were over for YOU, but most likely not to this asshole.

Because I’m Happy…

I have questioned why almost every man I’ve ever been involved with has magically resurfaced in my life for Round 2, 3, 4 or 5. Just a few days ago I woke up to a missed call at 1 a.m. from a “private” number. I knew exactly who it was because he was always totally weird about the numbers he called me from as if I’M crazy and would end up excessively calling HIM. (-_-) This missed call did not surprise me, however. Now that I am happy with myself and in a positive, fulfilling relationship I fully expect temptation to emerge from the woodwork in full force.

It’s almost as if a silent alarm goes off to let men know when they’re exes are happy, prompting them to then come onto the scene and attempt to pee all over it. The catch, is that as soon as you do break up with your current man and are in a frantic search for a warm body, empty compliments and a free bottle of whiskey, NONE of these jokers are anywhere to be found! Because you’re too desperate—that’s why. THEY only want YOU to want them MORE than you want the current person you are spending all of your time wanting.

Guys be like

Hmm, No thanks

I must admit that I am only human, so I am definitely susceptible to hot dudes coming out of nowhere and showering me with attention, telling me how gorgeous I am and how much they miss me—all of a sudden. The problem is, a simple “Thanks, but no thanks,” will never seem to do with these woodworkers; it almost serves as more fuel to their fire. Personally, I alternate between completely ignoring them OR— if they are particularly persistent—offering to accept a meet up every once in awhile. Arranging to do so probably looks pretty incriminating on paper (texts….Facebook, etc) but I find that it usually sheds light on the fact that these men that have to have me so suddenly badly have not changed at all. They are not back in my life seeking redemption, they just wants to derail my emotions and BLOW MY FUCKING LIFE! My 31 years on this earth (and whopping 3+ years in the dating field) have taught me that men are not above playing with a woman’s emotions. If he can arrive suddenly on the scene and evoke chaos in my world without putting in much of an effort he is winning at life. The inconsistent dude who ghosted me, the jobless dude, the selfish dude who never paid for a single date, the cheater, the liar, the asshole—those dudes have not undouched themselves simply because they took a month to yearlong retreat into the woodwork.

Furthermore, I am currently content with the flawed individual I am involved with at the moment. One thing I know about him is that were we to ever come to an end I probably wouldn’t hear from him again. It sounds twisted to say, but I take great solace and comfort in that fact. We are both a final people: I will fight as long as there is something to fight for but when it’s over I’m not going to drag things out. In this day and age it seems like we just don’t know how to let things go! The people you have left behind you left behind for a reason and it’s not always necessary to go digging into your garbage to try to find a little piece of something good. That guy who sucked 3 years ago STILL sucks! He is actively sucking somewhere as I write this. In fact, he sucks even more if he attempts to swoop back into your life trying to establish himself as someone of importance when he knows he has empty intentions.

I swear, if I ever find where the woodwork is located, this actual place where men seem to hideout until they are ready to pop into your life and run amok with your emotions, I will torch that sucker! OR, at the very least, smoke the place out and shoo them all back into the past where they belong to stay.

Baby...

…Of Nice and Good Men

A good man is the same as a finicky cat that comes to drink of the warm bowl of milk you’ve gingerly placed outside of your front door to feed it. You may watch the cat reap the benefits of the treat– just for God’s sake don’t make any sudden moves or you may scare it away forever!

Where Do Nice Guys Finish?
…on your face like every other man, so let’s hop down from that pedestal, guys. I see and hear the cry of “nice, non-bad boys” and I’m not overly impressed. Are you really missing out on dating opportunities with women because you are too kind and wholesome and good? Maybe you are also a coward that never makes the first move, are emotionally unavailable, too busy or lazy to make room for a relationship in your life, OR (and this is my favorite) you stand on the greatness of your master’s degree, immaculate apartment and nice car completely forgetting that you have to offer a woman some personality. You are not losing in life; especially in this day and age when women are cooking meals, raising the babies AND bringing other women home for men to get their threesome fix so they WON’T BE ABANDONED OR CHEATED ON.

Nice guys, I have more questions! Are you really losing with good women, or are we talking about being curved by the big booty chick with a million dudes in her DMs anyway? Also, who hurt you? Are you sure you got over Romantica who cheated on you in ninth grade and broke your heart? Are you sure you’re giving off “nice guy” vibes or are you repping 2015, the age of inconsistent communication, Netflix and chill and total disregard for the emotional well being of anyone but yourself? I don’t know the answers, these are literally my questions.

Everyone is REPLACEABLE
And, seriously, on the other side of it we women have to chill with this whole concept of driving away and/or scaring off “good men”. You settle down with your “nice/good” man and you’re afraid to rock the boat for fear he won’t stay and argue, but will leave you for something better. If a man is down for you, he shouldn’t be packing his bags every time you want to approach the subject of why a nigga gotta always eat the last of your Pringles without saving you some. Relationships are hard, there’s going to be some friction and disagreement no matter how good and kind the person you are with.

Personally, dealing with a strong, chivalrous, considerate and goal-oriented man after dating a slew of third string assholes IS an entirely different ballgame. However, I push myself to be vocal about the things that bother me in a rational way that leads to productive conversation. True, not a lot of men want to argue all the time (at least I try to stay away from men who equate arguing with passion) but a disagreement or two shouldn’t have you shaking in your red bottoms that he’s going to leave you. No, you can’t be crazy (slashing only three car tires because if you slash all four his insurance will cover the costs) or rude, or disrespectful but if something in the relationship bothers you, you also can’t be afraid to stand up to your good man. He is not the same as the man who ghosted you for days then copped an attitude when you voiced your complaints. If he is for real a good man he will LISTEN to the things that bother you and talk it out! Welcome to adulting…

The thing about these nice/good guys is that they are treated by the world around us like a novelty when the reality of it is; they are getting credit for shit they are supposed to do! Being faithful, educated and independent should align with the personal goals of the nice guy, not just marketed as a qualitative selling point to get and keep bitches. “Do you know how many women would love to have a man like me?” This is the battle cry of self-proclaimed nice guys that really ain’t shit. Ok, go find these women that will appreciate you so much more–fast forward  two months later and you’ll be posting lonely nigga quotes and Bae applications on your Facebook.

I have been hurt by enough nice guys to know not to fall for this foolishness. Yes, you may draw her bath water and hang out with her mom but it doesn’t make you incapable of hurting a woman…you ARE human. Treating your woman kindly does not elevate you to superhero status. Furthermore, as far as your social media posts reading like the book of Lamentations; don’t nobody feel sorry for your ass! For mature women who aren’t into all the games it’s never a matter of the bad boy vs. good guy. Maybe we’ve gotten our hearts broken by a disrespectful man in the past but it doesn’t mean that is a preference. Using the nice guys finish last, woe is me expressions is not only unimpressive but unfounded. Good men, great men, nice men who show consistency loyalty and personality are winning all across the board. Just look around you….

image

Let’s Talk About Porn, Baby! (Part 2)

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Everyone loves it–but most are not bold enough to make this move

To me, porn is Like Raymond…everybody loves it—and I mean EVERYBODY. (Sidenote: the boyfriend tells me that I generalize too much and shouldn’t say things like “everyone” or “women” or “black women” because I can’t possibly speak for everyone in those groups. BUT this is my blog I’ll generalize if I want to!) Anyway, I was super naïve when I first starting dating in my late teens and I did not realize that every guy in the history of guydom watches porn. My main gripe against porn at that phase in my life was the immorality of it all. Clearly God sees you watching other human beings bump uglies—how can you justify this when you get to the pearly gates of heaven? My imagination envisioned a movie projection reel of all of your unforgiven sins playing for everyone to see. I could only imagine how uncomfortable it would get when you reach those scenes of you and your left hand going to town while you make O faces in front of your cell phone screen. Awwwwkwaaarrd…

 HD

The first time I ever had to come face to face with pornography and its use is when I came to the realization that a guy I was dating owned a sex tape video. My response was, “Ew, get rid of it!” So he did, and I really thought that was that. I didn’t know that, thanks to the lovely invention of the smart phone, kinky sex stuff was only a Google search away—along with phone sex lines and just nasty women in general that eagerly send photos and videos of themselves doing freaky things for the low low price of nothing.

Without going into too much detail—things ended with that guy.  My disdain for his frequent viewing of porn definitely didn’t help us to grow any closer—but once he reached the stage of actually reaching out to real live women to supplement his sexual needs I needed to be done. If I view porn as a slap in the face, then of course actual cheating is a relationship kill shot to the back of the head. Because of this initial experience dealing with a man so heavily involved in it,  I still have trouble believing that pornography is anything other than a gateway drug to a loss of self control that could end up breaking your significant other’s heart.

My Truth About Porn

If you haven’t watched pornography ever in your life, you are either a 12 year old Amish person OR you live under a rock. Well, after my rock was lifted from me I emerged from underneath immediately blinded by the world and it’s blatant sexual immorality.  This is the part where I declare that it was a difficult time in my life yet I nobly rose above it all and continued to live life as a goodie two shoes church girl. Nope!

I became casually involved with a man who practiced watching porn like some sports fanatics must watch the entire season of basketball. It was EVERYWHERE! His phone, computer, house, car—every.freakin.where. By this time, it had been whispered in my ear enough that apparently I am extremely uptight and I needed to get over this natural habit that all men engaged in. To rid myself of the bad taste in my mouth and try to be a little less judgmental I decided to do some research to discover what the fuss was all about. After about 5 short videos of what looked like men using their penises to horribly stab women to death, I was left unimpressed.  But I didn’t stop watching…

SomethingforeveryoneI needed to know the secret—why is porn so interesting to people? Why did it consume so much time of the man I was currently dating? I didn’t get it! I would turn on the videos and wrinkle my brow trying to figure it the fuck out like it was the theory of relativity! It started out as curiosity—which quickly turned into masochism. I eventually drilled down into what I was watching and discovered that there are apparently levels to this shit. Threesomes, milfs, grandmothers, black men, transgender, lesbian, midgets…! Whoever you are and whatever you like to get into there is a specific type of porn for you, my friend. And let’s not get started on when I discovered that there is pornography specifically for women—THAT was my shit. Nothing more stress relieving than finally finding your own porn niche—then laying awake at night hating yourself and realizing you’ve become just like the men you spent so much time judging and hating for the very same habit. It was the very same addiction, even if it was on a significantly smaller scale.

My involvement with the porn-obsessed guy came to its natural demise for a myriad of reasons. Looking back on our sexual relationship, I realized that I was very much being objectified almost 90% of the time. At a certain point he was into filming us together which I thought was a better alternative to him enjoying strangers having sex UNTIL I realized that he kept an archive of videos of all the women he’d been with. Boy was my face red! I mean, I joke now because experiences like that and similar have toughened me and I know better than to succumb to that kind of bullshit. However, the experiences with these two men have had lasting effects on me. I will lay with you and listen to your most secret fantasies and desires, but I will not watch porn with you or involve myself in any way. I just can’t.

My Truth As A Woman

Feminism

Feminism is hard

I read an article the other day, that cheerfully informed me that more women in their 20s and 30s are starting to watch porn. Yay feminism—this is so awesome! Oh wait, no not really. I take such issue with modern day feminism sometimes because, in my opinion, it puts way too much focus on sexuality. Feminism is the cool girls table while some of us are still nibbling pizza at the corner table in our ratty, out of fashion jeans and oversized t-shirts.  If you prance around in a midriff shirt, take control of your own pleasure and run a marathon without a tampon you are somehow doing feminism right. However, I see feminism as the freedom to choose who you want to be as a woman and not be judged or treated unfairly because of it. I prefer not to breastfeed in public, I do wear provocative clothing, I don’t want anyone to ever know when I’m on my period EVER… I don’t want to invite pornography into my romantic relationships. Those are my choices.

 I was sitting in the apartment of a man I used to date when he politely asked if I had opened the weblink he sent me. This particular man was a genuinely good guy, so gentle with me and seemingly open and honest. The first time he text me a link to some “check this out” porn I was a little thrown off guard but I wasn’t completely upset about it. I watched the link because I was curious and I was trying to figure out what my action item was supposed to be. (Should I take notes? Can I even angle my head that way? Is that possible to do without throwing up?) In spite of how I feel about porn itself, I try very hard not to be judgmental about sexual fantasies of my significant other (unless it’s super weird stuff or threesomes—ain’t no way I’m going to just let you invite another bitch up in what we have.  I don’t even know her, and how greedy are you for wanting more than one woman when you can barely handle—ok sorry, tangent!)

I sat before him in the chair of his living room and finally I opened the link. I watched the video of this ratchet ass woman (with a terrible weave) performing sexual acts that I had JUST PERFORMED ON THIS NEGRO A FEW MOMENTS AGO! It wasn’t a knock down drag out fight that ensued—rather I just imploded.  Tears rolled down my face and I just didn’t want to see anymore. I felt stupid and completely embarrassed and confused. If I am physically providing for you, swinging off ceiling fans and meeting your needs within the privacy of our relationship why do you need a supplement? I take pride in at least attempting to be a lady in streets and a hoe in the sheets—then you send me a pornography link of a nasty ass woman who is just a hoe in sheets, streets and meet and greets?

I don’t ever want to feel as if I am censoring my partner and their sexual preferences/fantasies—however, I always have to be clear about just how uncomfortable certain things make me. When it comes to pornography: I just don’t get it! Because of my past dealings with men who were heavily involved in pornography to the point of addiction I just don’t want anything to do with it. Period. As Thick Biggems (tee hee) mentioned in the Part 1 interview—if you are having sex with someone you should be able to have open conversations about your sexual activities and your dos and don’ts. Sex is everywhere and it seems to me that there is an abundance of pressure on women to be sexy; invite your friends into your sexual exploits, cook a great meal, suck a great cock etc. etc.  When I finally got around to exploring my sexuality (in mid-to late 20s—which is fairly late) it was difficult for me to sort through all of these outside messages to discover who I was in the midst of it. The discovery is well worth the effort. The obvious life lesson here is: just because everyone else is doing it doesn’t mean that you have to or even that you have to take part in it. My stance on pornography may seem immature to some—but it is just that MY stance.

GF

Well, at least I won’t be saying this!

Whatever anyone chooses to consent to in the bedroom is absolutely their business. I think of sex as fun, exciting, experimental—all of that—but I still don’t quite understand the role of pornography in all of it. Perhaps for those who are single and not seeing any action, or couples that enjoy watching it together, but as far as young men with steady (even multiple) sexual partners I don’t understand the appeal. It’s not for me to understand—and that’s ok. Fellas, if your girl is not into it she is not lame or uptight–it’s just not her preference. Before the luxury of watching other people having sex, I’m sure the caveman thought of several ways to keep things spicy in the bedroom. I don’t know, maybe even circle back around to missionary–I don’t think anyone does that anymore! 😜

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The Pursuit of Unhappiness: Part 1

Sad

The horrible, ugly truth of it is…I am happy. Ridiculously and grotesquely and I don’t really know how to BE happy without making apologies or fearing it. I suppose the past 5 years has been a torrential downpour and I’m so comfortable in that environment that I don’t know what to DO when things have been going decently and life has taken a respite from pummeling lemons at my defenseless body.

Oops, I Did It Again

If you’ve read the blog you know that 2014 was chock full of hedonism and debauchery. Well, not really anything that exciting or scandalous—but I did make the effort to date a lot and sprinkle around a few morsels from my heaping bag of wild oats. Most of my posts about dating came off as whimsical and kind of fun, and it WAS— up until a certain point. The truth of the matter is that I really hate modern dating and how it is set up. I had simply given up and adopted a “If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em” attitude” and learned to use these new lazy courting methods to my advantage. After a while, juggling men, keeping up with text messages and hang outs and being treated like a piece of meat took its toll and I believe I was at an impasse. I was either going to become this jaded chick that dated multiple men and never settled down or made a commitment OR I was going to grow up and realize that sometimes LOVE HURTS! That’s the risk we take every day by involving ourselves with other human beings and allowing them the power to disappoint us. There is absolutely no way around it and I was beginning to look like a fool for thinking that I could avoid heartache by controlling the men around me and remaining aloof in soul but not in body.

I made the decision to do better. I had reached a certain level of maturity to understand that there is no reward if there is no risk. I missed the days of rubbing someone’s back and actually listening to the story they’re telling me because I care about their thoughts and philosophies on life. I missed consistent communication, lazy Netflix marathons and inside jokes. I MISSED having a boyfriend. As a woman, it’s hard to confess or admit these things to yourself because with the whole “bad bitch”/ “feminist” movement wanting the company of a man automatically makes you weak. Lucky for me, I don’t consider myself that kind of feminist. My pet peeve is feeling censored or judged by others for simply wanting what I want. I am sure there are women who admired that I was going through my sexual revolution phase…then why can’t I be equally praised for my “I want to settle the fuck down and chill with one dude” phase?

But, I digress. Let’s move the story along…

Meanwhile, a persistent young man began to contact me on the dating site for which I was a lackluster participant. I wasn’t really all that wooed by it, but I was bored and his persistence had a hint of desperation in it that gave me the impression that maybe he was just tired of all the bullshit that is modern dating and ready to settle down and give something a chance. We went on a date to a poetry outing and he was cute enough, could carry on a decent conversation and seemed genuinely impressed and interested in me (HUGE points for that). He lived relatively close, as well, so we ended up spending a lot of time together. THIS WAS IT—FINALLY!

In an attempt to disable my account I logged into my profile (for what was supposed to be the final time) and I am messaged by a lovely young man whose dating profile claims he is a whopping 6’5” (yes, please!). Being the flawed individual I am, I entertained conversation with this gentleman because he was hot; plain and simple with no way to sugarcoat that. After exchanging numbers and talking to him a bit more I realized that he was intelligent and fun to talk to even more so than my pseudo-boo I was spending all of my time with (two weeks of pure, unadulterated oversaturation). Some uncommitted dating overlap occurred with the two men for a few weeks and one night, as I sat in the booth of a TGI Fridays forcing myself to smile at the first guy, I realized that I didn’t want anyone else but the second guy. Once I came to that realization I proceeded to do EVERYTHING wrong, by ending things with the first prospect and shifting all of my free time and attention over to the man I favored and could see building something with.

JW

The rules of the blog are that once a male figure becomes a significant part of my life he gets a name. Because I am not a complete asshole I’m always polite enough to not use the actual name of the guy, so let’s call him JW. JW is actually a real, live grown ass man that does real, live grown ass man stuff like; pays rent in his very own apartment, owns a car, has a job, supports his children… It sounds like simple stuff but finding this in dudes nowadays (in the area I live in) is harder than it should be. Those things are nice, but I can’t really qualify them as the things that I care about all that deeply (except for the taking care of his kids thing). As I spent more time with the man I came to realize that his actions actually matched the words that came out of his mouth! He expressed his affection for me verbally and physically, he consistently communicated and touched based regularly and he didn’t play games. As much as I hate this phrase: everything WAS what it WAS…it was GOOD!

Nobody Said It Was Easy

…but it is. I don’t know why and it scares the shit out of me. As it turns out, once I let go of my past hurts and fears; accepting love into my life became easier. JW and I went through the phase of casually dating and after about 3 weeks I was sooo tempted to have the uber confrontational “WHERE IS THIS GOING?” conversation, but something in me told me I didn’t need to. When you are dealing with a real man, it seems things fall into place a little more naturally. I was treated so respectfully on such a consistent basis I just had the feeling that I was finally dealing with an individual that was courting me in the correct way and doing what he could to be clear about his intentions. Look at me everyone; I’m dating a real ADULT!

After the demise of my “relationships” with my children’s fathers and finding out they were both philandering assholes not my true soulmates, I approached dating like a naïve teenager and wasn’t even sure of how I wanted or expected to be treated. I learned plenty of lessons about the importance of giving the benefit of the doubt, the importance of softness and submissiveness, communication, fighting fair, etc.—but I hadn’t yet learned the lesson that these characteristics are NOT TO BE WASTED ON THE UNAPPRECIATIVE! I had acquired all of this knowledge on how to be a good partner but I wasted it on slutty dudes that were not that interested in me, or obsessive dudes that were way too interested. Somewhere along the way I had adapted the motto of “aim low so you won’t be disappointed” so I attached myself to men I knew didn’t want any kind of commitment from me, were not going to pay for any dates, give out any back rubs, no gas money, and definitely no kind of commitment. Dealing with cheaters, liars, ex cons, the selfish, the young, the lonely, the restless was my way of saying to myself  “I don’t deserve any better than this.” So now, when I do have a man that loves and appreciates me, treats me like a priority and protects me I find myself asking the question, “Do I really deserve this?”

I still don’t quite have the answer to that question. But I do know that while I am gifted with this man who goes out of his way to make me feel special everyday, I am going to appreciate that for once in my life, something is easy. He is not perfect— though I am very nearly perfect 😉 –so there is still going to be work involved in the effort to try to get this thing right. Because of my past hiccups I am insanely jealous, suspicious, insecure ALL of that, but I am determined, for once, to chase after happiness. I have put a lot of time and effort into dysfunctional relationships, it’s about time for me to grow up and invest in something healthy that makes me insanely and absurdly happy—even if it scares me shitless

Happy

Monoga(me?)

So I really hate when people spout bullshit about humans not being made for monogamous relationships.  Of course we are, that’s why God didn’t create Eve, Sarah, Justine and Diane. He only took one rib which means ONE chick for every dude. IT MAKES SENSE!

At least it does to me on some level. As for all the other levels—I might be struggling. I don’t know what’s happened to me. I’ve been a scorned woman and on the seedy underbelly of the cheating and lies of others but now I’m genuinely petrified that ambiguity has become the new path for me. I AM that thirsty dude on your IG page liking all of your selfies even though I’ve got something waiting for me at home. I AM that person with the sheepish look on my face when it’s finally discovered that I am, in fact, a two timing asshole. So here it is…

Marley and Me

Marley is a beautiful creature I met online and the first guy that actually and genuinely had me excited about love, relationships, bullshit, etc in a long time. By beautiful I mean he was maybe 100 pounds dripping wet, had wild unkempt and downright filthy dreaded hair, translucent light brown eyes and a small mouth. But alas, the heart wants what it wants and for whatever reason this was my soul mate and I wanted him desperately. I was crazy about him! He and I spent a whirlwind month together and of course things moved pretty quickly and we became sexually involved way too fast. But I was happy, right?  Well, now then how did I allow space for Jamaal if that was the case?

I’m walking down the street one day and following after me is this golden man—tanned, tattooed skin, and hair and eyes the color of honey whiskey.  He was polite and sincere and…young (I like them young, not gonna lie) and I didn’t have a boyfriend at the time so there was no harm and giving him my number, right? Marley was not my man and how dare he try to tie me down or think he had any kind ownership over me?  I mean, my cause is poetic: I am totally looking for a husband, I think…

We liked Jamaal 🙂 He was beautiful to look at; he stuttered as he talked a mile a minute and he managed to say all the right things. He wanted me to be his girl, and that’s all I ever really wanted. Fuck you if you think I’m basic!  I do want someone to post my picture on their social media #wifey, #wcw—all that. I hate that hip and cool people these days try to talk down to women who desire those things. On one level perhaps I am basic but I am also a complicated and fascinating individual on other levels sooo shut up and proclaim your public love for me on Facebook, dammit!

#WCW

#WCW

The Juggler

Needless to say, I like to think that I am dating with some sort of end game and not just the power trip of having the attention of so many guys. Once I see that one of these guys is offering something that looks real, that’s it– let The Purge begin!

Marley was the victim of such a purge. As much as I prefer to play victim I can’t really get away with this where he is concerned.  I sent him a goodbye text telling him that I’d found someone that wants to make me his girlfriend and that it made sense to focus on that person (Jamaal). (As it turns out I didn’t HAVE to focus on Jamaal because he ended up flaking on becoming my bf but he was content to occupy boyfriend time in my life which is my pet peeve…) Marley seemed proportionately devastated by the news and I felt sick to my stomach that I had to reject him. To make things worse, he offered up the suggestion to become a side nigga and I judged him for that thinking “Have some respect for yourself!” But really he could probably see that I was making a rash decision allowing myself to be lured by someone spitting basic game OR he just wanted to continue sleeping with me. Who knows, I guess. The bottom line is that I couldn’t juggle!

eggs-in-one-basketPeople keep saying that men do it all the time, why can’t women? And, don’t put all of your eggs in one basket– but can I hold on to my eggs and just dole out like two of them to one guy that I actually like? What is this rule that I have to evenly spread all of my eggs around to every guy with dating potential? I can’t speak for other women but I know for me it’s just too much. Also, I do struggle with greed and abandonment issues so when it is time to cut dudes off and focus my attention on one I am hesitant to do so. Yes, I like this man more than I do the others but as soon as I get rid of the others the front runner is going to do something stupid or outrageous I just KNOW it!

Word Problem: Naomi has 4 apples. She gives 3 to John and 1 to Mark, how many. .. no, wait— Mark was really sweet and asked to read some of her poetry so she takes 2 apples from John to give to Mark. John is not very happy that his apples have been taken away so he throws his remaining apple in her face. How many apples does Naomi have left?

Let the Bodies Hit the Floor

Me and Jamaal never amounted to anything, though we used up the whole summer attempting to make things work. True damaged asshole that I am, I attempted to reconnect with Marley and several half-assed text messages later I realized that he was done with me. It serves me right because 1. I was STILL talking to a few other dudes at the time and 2. my execution is poor and I don’t really know how to express myself without either completely avoiding a situation or being too blunt about it and hurting feelings (not that any super deep feelings are really involved in these situations!) It seems the smart thing to have done would have been to let the situation with those two men play out just a little bit longer before deciding to axe one, however I don’t think that can ever be my solution. My biggest fear in doing that would be that I would end up dating two men indefinitely with no sign of commitment or monogamy in sight. I don’t want to be that girl—but I think I’m that girl :-/

PPL wake up

Here’s where I am now: I was dating two men and one man has suddenly risen to the BIG CHALLENGE and proven himself the clear front runner. We’ve spoken lightly of relationship in between dazed kisses (which means absolutely nothing) but other than that there is no guarantee this dude is going to actually go the distance with me. My problem is that I give zero fucks what’s going on in his head: he is what I want. I am smitten with him, he makes me laugh, he gives me the right amount of attention and affection and overall good feeling so why do I have to sit in a booth of a TGI Fridays with another man grateful for a free meal and lackluster conversation? I know what I want, its time to purge.

I slowly fade away from the other guy and he becomes more persistent. I don’t want to tell him I’m interested in someone else more because that’s like telling someone they are not good enough. I simply tell him to let me go and he won’t. stop. asking me why. I DON’T KNOW!!! Because someone always has to get rejected? Because it’s your turn to be hurt? Because this is how dating multiple people works? Because you’ve involved yourself with an indulgent, indecisive, philandering narcissist that all of a sudden doesn’t like you anymore and can’t even pinpoint why?!

I'm a terrible person

I’m a terrible person

In the meantime, I get a call from ANOTHER guy I dated over the summer and he sounds hurt that he hasn’t heard from me. I’m just left puzzled and unsure what to do with all these man feelings lying around me. When my fallback game is vicious it’s not because I’m playing games it’s because I actually do not care about you anymore…at ALL. But it seems the simple fade away is no longer a good tactic and I have to explain to people that casually happened into my life why I no longer want them in my life anymore (not that they were actually even really there).  My spam messages inbox is chock full of random dudes I’ve blocked claiming they miss me and wondering why they haven’t heard from me. (-_-) STFU! Why do men do this? It just makes me feel bad when I KNOW they really didn’t give two shits in the first place…

I MU

How I WANT to respond…

The Point of It All

At this point it almost seems easier to just continue to juggle and try not to get too attached to any one person. I mean, what is the benefit otherwise? Here I am, severing ties with men left and right to focus on the one person I really like and there is no guarantee of a return on that investment. This is exhausting! And the question is, now that I’ve spent my summer juggling will I actually be able to settle down and focus/receive attention from just one person? I think the answer is yes but I suppose only time will tell. Sighhhh, stay tuned for this developing story…

Intertwine: A Tale of Casual Sex

ETC - Intertwine Image

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 I’m not massaging, I’m being touched and the sexy, confident woman I felt like I was just hours before has disappeared. I’m on my back and I can’t keep my mouth closed. I’m loud and moaning and panting—the stuff of porn stars because I don’t believe in holding back or holding in. The stress of the day, of the weeks, all frustrations, loneliness, business, happiness are mixed together on that mattress and expelled into several ear rupturing howls.

I don’t know this man above me, on top of me, inside of me. I know his body now and how he feels. I know the hard lines of his flat belly and the sound of his breath against my ear and the feel of his soft wet mouth against my neck. I know the twinkle in his eye when he laughs at my jokes and I know he’s been hurt before and doesn’t want anything serious. We’re in the same boat that way—adults acting like children, afraid to connect with someone and afraid to attach only to be hurt and devastated by abandon. I’m not looking for a boyfriend, I’m not looking for anything; I am a liar. Spending time with him makes me more familiar with his soul and I find myself wanting in deeper. Fear paralyzes me and maybe him as well, so we give ourselves physically because we’re just so depleted emotionally. This is a mistake…

Desire robs me of free will. I’m in this thing now—can’t stop. I can’t decide if I want this but  I want this and I know I don’t need this in my life, but I need it now. My legs act independently—wrap themselves around his waist as he enters me. Absolutely.no.turning.back. I zone out at this point…my body finds its own rhythm and my mind becomes a random series of thoughts and phrases. No,  too soon, not enough, what next, how, when, yes, yes…YES!

Then it’s over and I comedown from the high. I lie in a pool of our sweat and my own euphoria. I am vaguely tense, aware that so much changes for a man after he ejaculates. Sometimes so much lies at stake in that one deposit of semen—out flows his desire for you, his urgency, his interest in you as a person. The ultimate prize has been collected, it’s time to go home. My eyes are wide open and I wonder how I allowed myself to change my view of sex so much that I am here in this place with this virtual stranger having shared so much of myself. I was a virgin until I was 20 and I feel like that hymen has since ruptured a thousand times. Sex used to be “making love” for me—now it’s an act of cowardice. A consolation prize. I can no longer give you my heart, it’s been shattered to pieces, but here; take all of my body instead. I will lie with you and listen to your dreams, I will stroke your naked body and your hair, admire your potential and believe in you, fall into you…in love with you—but I will never tell you.

I lie next to him, my body rigid and I’m close to tears. It must be so easy for a man to use women this way and have it mean nothing—I’m nothing! I feel myself give in to hysteria as I struggle not to unravel right before his eyes. My body stiffens even more as I feel him reach out and touch the small of my very naked back. His voice is unsteady and he trails his hand up the path of my back and up and up to cup my face, “I think I’m falling in love with you….”

Self(ish)

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Image from: vimeo.com

He raises his voice at me and I turn the radio up, blocking out the immaturity. The casual dating stuff may just be the ruin of me. He’s on the couch now, sleeping, and I’m just glad to be alone. The balance of my world has been thrown off its axis. My mind often wanders, and I feel like I’m biding my time until the next thing comes along. He only thinks about himself…next to me.

The other one mystifies me, does something to my soul but makes me wonder if I’m ready. I have to think about myself, and my kids and who I am. He forces me to introspection and I am no longer a good time girl. I feel like I’m biding my time until he comes along. He only thinks about himself…never me.

Dialing It Back – Part II

There have been countless times I’ve sat around on the couch with my girls watching tv, and me and six year old will look over at the baby in horror at the sound of her farting bathroom noises. Of course it makes us laugh hysterically—babies have no shame, and in this instance I’m sure it’s a trait that she gets from her mama. If I had more of a sense of shame I wouldn’t be about to post this, and I probably wouldn’t have this blog at all. But, here we are and shit is about to get real.

I wrote a post a few weeks ago about Dialing It Back, referring to my intensity in all things relationships romantic or platonic. I did vow that I would make a conscious effort to do better and I think I’ve managed to do so and wanted to report back on it. I had been “talking” to this guy for several months (I guess it’s called talking, I really don’t know what that means but chose not to ask for more of a description because I was just too embarrassed to do so) and it came to an untimely end—of sorts. I have lots of feelings about it. Ending things wasn’t necessarily what I wanted but I guess part of being an adult is realizing when something just can’t work logistically and getting the hell over it. Also there is the possibility that he just wasn’t that interested in me anymore but I choose to believe it was a circumstantial thing, you know…because pride.

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Image from: zrhbzeds.homeip.net

 Anyway, after a blow up on my end and days of silence I received the fateful text from him, ending all things. I do believe it was a misunderstanding between us that may have led to this but I believe a lot of things, it doesn’t mean my thoughts and feelings will be validated in those beliefs. I am OBSESSED with the idea of adequately articulating my point of view and my reasoning but this time, after much internal struggle, I was able to let it go. I said my goodbye, expressed my regret and I DROPPED IT. I know there are women out there with the whole, “Well, fuck him he can kick rocks anyway,” attitude that are unimpressed by this, but that’s just not me. It takes awhile for a guy to even gain my complete interest and once it finally happens I am overly loyal and I fight passionately to make things work because destiny is destiny, right? But the whole concept of dialing it back is for me to grow the hell up and realize that the best-laid plans don’t always come to fruition.

So, I did the opposite of what I would normally do in the situation. I sent the final text to him and then I deleted everything– all the emails, all the texts and I even unfriended him on Facebook. I felt really petty doing it but I know myself. I don’t need an avenue of communication because as long as there is a door I am going to try to pry it open and see what’s behind it. I didn’t want to be tempted to plead my case—which I shouldn’t have to do, and should stop doing in general. I know this seems like it would come from a place of low self-esteem but I’m not entirely sure it does. It’s more like, “OK, he SAYS he doesn’t want to talk to me anymore but I don’t think he realizes just how awesome I am!” Umm, while I am awesome—I should be more aware that not everyone is going to think so. Actually, the evening that all this happened I got an email notification from my favorite blog, Black Girls Are Easy (blackgirlsareeasy.com) and the title of his latest post was called “He Doesn’t Want You, Deal With It”…so even the universe was telling me to chill. I can take the hint.

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Image from: runt-of-the-web.com 

I can’t pretend I am completely healed of my intensity. I did write a couple of emo blog posts (as you’ve probably noticed) and some mournful diary entries but only because I have to thoroughly lament and feel everything because I’m so fucking in tune with my emotions now. And I’m not a guy, I can’t just end something, no matter how ephemeral, and turn off my feelings about it. BUT, I haven’t contacted him in order to fight for his affection, or even to just shoot the breeze—I am learning to be more ladylike and to stop being overly assertive. I think I am finally learning to dial it back!