Tag Archives: modern dating

Summer Losers: Part 1

Posted on by under The Crazy

summer losers COVER

Summertime! A collective warmth has spread over us all as the desire to shed layers of clothing and inhibitions run rampant. The cuffing season buddy from the colder months is left on read and we hit the streets with alcohol pumping through our veins and Lizzo on our playlists. As black women embrace sisterhood, self-love and shea butter I must say it’s shaping out to be an amazing summer for the ladies. Another summer prediction of mine—the men will lose.

Summer Dating Fail
Each summer my kids go off to Virginia Beach to live their best lives with family members and I find myself with extra free time on my hands. The thought of dating always starts out as a cute idea until three weeks later when I am looking at my message inbox like “How the hell did this happen?” Yes, casual sex can be fun but I suppose I don’t remember when it became the only available option. No one seems to want to meet up, be cute and flirty and go with the flow anymore. I am not speaking of the ambiguous “go with the flow” men toss out as an option when it really means they are trying to trap you into a situationship. I am speaking of going with the natural flow of fun hang outs with sexual tension in the air minus the useless “wyd” texts and dick pics. I understand how males feel about sex, like WE ALL GET IT! I just didn’t realize that sex became the only thing males think women are capable of offering. (And it’s a shame that things have shifted in this way during a time when I think women are at our most interesting and self-actualized!)

Planning a date with a male is like pulling teeth because he’s likely not going to plan

YALL NOT DOING THIS

anything. Personally, the story I always hear is that he prefers to hang out a few times before deciding whether a woman is worth it enough to take on a date. This is because we are known to use men for free food. HAHAHAHAHAHAA—first of all, food is #BAE and I’m not about to sit in your whack ass company at the local TGI Fridays just because it’s free. I have a job I can pay for my own meals so finessing one out of a nigga is not really my ultimate goal in life. Second of all, what usually follows the “I don’t pay for dates” conversation is the “I’d like to come over watch some movies and chill” proposition. Personally, I have no problem with this because I used to be a hardcore Come Over and Chill girl but you really have to peep when a woman is in that particular mindset. I would like to get into these Black Mirror episodes minus all the heavy petting and small talk because being alone is dope. I am more weary about inviting men into my vibe because usually they don’t have anything to bring to the table but a hard dick and maybe some alcohol.

A come over and chill date can perhaps start off well with some insightful conversation and a roll in the hay but too often has ended with a stream of empty “wyd”, “how was your day” texts and aggressive efforts to arrange to come over again. What you don’t know is that this time when he comes over he has zero conversation, zero personality, zero game and zero bottles of vodka—he has shown up with the bare minimum plan to get his rocks off and get the hell out of there. All of that is fine and good, but males miss out on the best pussy by not showing respect or interest in the woman attached to it. Casual sex is no strings, but we are not prostitutes or flesh lights! It would be nice to share a joke or two or establish basic comradery/familiarity before you attempt to keep filling our bodies with your mediocre penis. (And that’s me being a little mean because there is surprisingly a lot of great dick out there, however you lose points when it’s attached to your shitty personality).

Furthermore, males (and some women) still surprisingly stick to these antiquated viewpoints and lose respect for you if they feel you have allowed them sex too easily. I think this is bizarre and hypocritical for obvious reasons but on top of that I don’t understand why women have to do so much auditioning to prove to males that our self-worth is intact. With all due respect, fuck niggas opinions! I am writing this blog and the males who read it are likely to take immediate defense without attempting to understand the POV in its entirety. Also, some will likely start searching through my social media to prepare their “this bitch is ugly and bitter” defense. I probably would be bitter if masturbation and tv didn’t exist but I’m okay. Also, lack of “beauty” is a card that males tend to play without realizing that they are perpetuating the idea that if you are not attractive your opinion doesn’t matter and that would take a separate blog post to unpack how deeply problematic that is. And anyway, I write this blog post more as an empathetic person whose main desire in this world is to make meaningful connections with people. I share my personal opinions and experiences as a woman, writer, poet, mental health advocate, etc. and I receive plenty of DMs, comments, emails and conversations from women all over who feel similar. If you follow any meme account that is geared toward women, you will plainly see that women’s connection/intimacy with males is slipping into oblivion because there doesn’t seem to be any real effort on their end. The whole thing is silly to me because the effort it takes for males to be so boring in their whack ass game and lazy texts, they could actually just be themselves and probably drown in endless pussy because they are finally presenting something authentic.

We’d Rather Be Alone Without Your Bullshit
These millennial artists write lyrics chock full of dysfunction, but we’re smart enough to enjoy the melodies without adopting the mentalities. If you come with bullshit we don’t want no parts! This is because, black women are doing the work. We woke up! We don’t want to be depressed anymore, we don’t want any more toxic baby daddies and bottom bitch relationship positions. We have our careers and independence and now we are seeking the stable mental health to go along with it.

Black women are putting in the work—what does that mean? Great question! It means…

  • We are seeking mental health counseling
  • We are practicing self-love in word and in deed
  • We are breaking cycles of pain and learning to recognize and escape all forms of abuse
  • We are redefining “strength” by no longer associating it with the amount of pain we are able to endure
  • We are calling out toxic behavior

The main result of this movement is that women are learning not to attach our self-worth to the opinions and standards of males. The end result is less confusion and turmoil in a woman’s life because the standards of males are all over the place so it would be impossible for us to attempt to live up to them anyway. How can you strive to sleep around and collect bodies of women you can’t hold a conversation with then expect to settle down with a virginal, good woman that has the body of an Instagram model and attends church like a deaconess? (She also cooks, cleans, throws it back like a porn star and raises your perfect babies– what exactly are you doing in this scenario and how does this seem like anything but a punishment to any independent women?) Furthermore, respect from males seems to be tied to whether they deem a woman is a hoe or not and has nothing to do with personality, accomplishments, how a woman runs her own household, shows independence or flexes her entrepreneurial skills. We can no longer keep up with this invisible “dope chick” scale of standards males are using to determine who is wifey and who is only good for sex– so we’ve adapted by not caring the male opinion at all.

Another wonderful result of women putting in the work is that “pick me” bitches are starting to be outnumbered. We are moving into a sisterhood of support and standing up against toxic male behavior because we realize there is more to life than having a man and settling down. Some of us don’t even want to settle down, we want to travel and pursue our individualistic passions. Fuck your “come over and chill” there is an entire world out there! Hot Girl Summer has less to do with waiting for a nigga to think we are worth the trip to Ruth Chris (which there are nicer restaurants than this, do a fucking OpenTable search ONCE—find a restaurant you personally like instead of doing the same shit everyone else is doing!) and more to do with the liberation of not having to care about a male’s opinion one way or the other. You can own your own hotness minus the thirsty DMs and heart eyed emojis from niggas with empty intentions!

I am so sorry but you all did this to yourselves. As our respect and love for ourselves grew, we attempted to shout it to the rooftops—beefing up our selfie game on social media and believing in the mantras and affirmations to boost our own self-esteem. For every 5 positive posts of a woman loving herself there’s at least two toxic comments from some nigga trying to bring her down. Then we get called hoes for quoting City Girls without realizing that the lyric we quote the loudest is declaring that we no longer care about you. “Real ass bitch give a fuck about a nigga” is our shit because we feel it so hard– most of us can take or leave the rest. We are not for real off some City Girl stuff we got babies and jobs, just like you don’t cook drugs and are not a billionaire. Males are butthurt and defensive because they think we’re up to silly hoe shit trying to finesse money and meals when really, we’ve just wanted the bare minimum of effort and respect.

hey beautiful ain't working

We stopped explaining this because males don’t listen and because the response is never to simply try a little harder. The response is usually to degrade women even more and at the very worst try to attack our self-esteem by making vicious comments about our looks. In my opinion, males are the grinches who have attempted to snatch the fun and freedom out of summer by….

  • inserting the opinions of their male gaze about women’s bodies (hair, makeup, etc)
  • by refusing to develop the basic social skills to flirt and show baseline interest in women
  • and by using technology as a database to collect empty interactions instead of finding a few women you can actually be yourself with and enjoy their company thus enhancing the casual sex appearance for everyone involved and not unnecessarily wasting anyone’s time.

I personally choose to assume that males have become so uninteresting because they have overloaded their rosters and don’t have enough personality to spread around. I have to believe this because it is truly depressing to think that you all might actually be this boring.

*an actual text conversation I’ve had*
Me: What do you want from me?Him: To get to know you better
Me: Oh, cool so what do you want to know?
Him: Everything in due time *proceeds to send 4 consecutive “good morning, beautiful” texts with his picture attached for the next week

Me:

What

Summer dating is a bust, my ladies. Let’s pack up the rental and have a beach photoshoot by our damned selves because none of these niggas are about that life. Let them walk around pale asf this summer waiting on the right woman whose ass is big enough, skin light or dark enough, toes perfect enough—or whatever the standard is these days. I can tell you what the standard is not: being a multi-layered individual that has more to offer than a warm pussy, cool apartment and Netflix account.

But Wait, Is There More?
Men lose this summer because self-love wins. Fuckery gets blocked or ignored and we are no longer accepting “that’s wild” as an adequate response to what we have to say. We are people, not just pussies and if you want access to the precious it’s really not going to kill you to be an active listener over some ice cream, or walk in the park or *insert date activity that involves some kind of bare minimum planning on your part*.

I have much more to say on the topic, including a breakdown of the different types of male summer losers and even some cheap ass, free ass date ideas for the males who want to attempt at winning this summer. And seriously, I am super annoyed that I even have to write this because to be completely honest, most women don’t care about the money you have or your looks or status—we just want to be treated with respect and the baseline level of interest that most human beings are able to express to one another. If you are not interested in a woman enough to show her any real personality or true effort to get to know her as a fellow human being, then why are you so anxious to put your penis inside of her? When is it time for you to know YOUR worth, King?

But more on that later…part 2 coming soon!

Bitches single comment

triple response to yall bitches

No Room at the Table

Posted on by under The Crazy

Table Meme

If you had showed 23 year old me a glimpse into the day in the life of Whiskey Girl I would be in a state of disbelief. Although, I suppose ten years is plenty of time to have morphed into a totally different person. Ok…well, I won’t be as dramatic as all that but I will say that I never expected to be living out this version of myself. The early teenaged me would be quite proud—and slightly puzzled that I have two children when I vowed to never have kids and to focus solely on my career (as an advertising executive because I was obsessed with the movie Don’t Tell Mom the Babysitter’s Dead). Anywho, the early 20’s me would be horrified. That version of me made the mistake of falling head over heels with a man and fantasized about a life of wifery on a daily basis. Who cares about education and life goals when you can cook, clean and cater to a man who barely even deserves it, right…?

We all know my story ends in divorce so let’s just hop right to it. That divorce was one of the most painful things I’ve ever had to go through. I remember feeling so empty, depressed, lonely and unfulfilled throughout the whole mourning and separation process. Alas, I was a wife missing a husband to complete me and fulfill my purpose (barf!) Surely I needed a man in my life, in my household, in my presence just to be happy! Fast forward to the present annnnnnd—what I need a nigga for again?

 

Material World, Traditional Girl

I am aware that feminists don’t all the way like me because by today’s definition of the word I probably don’t really qualify as one. I like the part where I can sleep around and not be considered a hoe and attend marches but for the most part I’m a boring bitch who believes in the traditional gender roles. No one is angrier than I am when I have to carry groceries by my damned self, take out the trash or get an oil change. If I have a dude in my life why am I doing these things? I want to give great bjs and get my nails done while someone else worries about paying all the bills—but the way my single motherhood is set up; it ain’t happenin’! I am not hot enough (or motivated enough to hit the gym) for random men to be paying my bills so I’ve had to choose the life of a “for real” single mom. Like, work 9 to 5, pay all the bills and file my own damned taxes—there is no knight in shining Jordans for me.

Even when I lost my mind over some good dick and literally had a mental breakdown that culminated in job loss, I didn’t have time to dwell on unemployment and try to find a Sugar Daddy to help supplement the household bills. I ended up pulling money out of my 401k and taking a quick woosah before re-entering the workforce and finding a job to sustain myself and the kids.

Fast forward 5 years and I’m making $30K more than I made when I was fired and I haven’t asked my parents to borrow money in about two years now. (I HAVE asked my brother A LOT, but that’s neither here nor there). This is a story of triumph, my friends! I am holding it down, dropping kids off to school, helping with homework, doing hair, killing it at work, trying to kill it in the writing/poetry field—my life is FULL. My table is dope and I built the shit all by myself and provided all the food—I’m not sure what anyone else can bring to that table…

Dog passed out meme

Gotta offer more than just good sex these days! There are options out there, my dude

 

There’s the Rub…

So, here is where we have a dilemma: if I am already responsible for and happy with “holding it down” for myself and the kids then why would I be interested in adding a grown ass man to the mix who expects me to hold it down for him, as well? There was a time when I couldn’t wait to take care of a man and devote my life to his happiness. I wanted the bottom bitch fairytale where I helped a man come into his own greatness and as a reward he would never cheat on me and someday make me his wife. How lame is that? Especially since these days, men my age only seem to be offering pretty package relationships that look great on social media but lack any real substance outside of that. Can a bitch cuddle in your lap and shoot the shit about future dreams and past heartaches or nah? How are you going to support me? While I am doing this whole “submissive and supportive to my man” bit, are my emotions being taken care of/managed/supplemented? Are you emotionally supporting me, or just murmuring “For real, that’s crazy” every time I try to talk to you about what’s going on in my life?

I am not a doting housewife. I can’t absorb a partner’s emotional stress without being poured into and loved on in the way that feeds me, as well. If you aren’t giving me attention and affection then I could give a fuck about broiling your salmon or doing your laundry. Love is not enough of a motivator to have me catering to a man who is essentially bringing the same shit to the table that I am. When he walks in the door after a long day of work, I am walking in at the same time having worked the same amount of hours on top of a laundry list of household and Whiskey Girl things to handle before the day is over. My lifestyle is already overwhelming for my temperament and mental health, so the thought of adding another person to that list of responsibilities sounds downright stressful.

EVOLVE, MY NIGGAS

The success of black women is a topic of conversation these days, but men don’t seem to want to address what our evolution and our success means for them. Well, my niggas… I will tell you.

Emotional support is the new breadwinner. Gone are the days when you choose a woman and take care of all the bills while she stays home and runs the household like the CEO of your life. These days, women have full-time careers and are working just as hard as men—if not harder because of the multi-tasking and juggling that goes into childrearing (don’t get me started on entrepreneurialism!)— while bringing substantial money into the household to sustain it. To be the main person responsible for maintaining the household while making significant financial contributions is a bit much to ask. You don’t have the right to expect more of this woman, you don’t get to stress this woman or treat this woman as if she is not a real or enough or lazy because she doesn’t make a four-course meal for you every night like your Mama used to do for your Daddy. She is not that woman. She is a new breed of woman, and she doesn’t really need you in the same way that generations of men before you were needed.

I feel the hate and the weight of the world on a daily basis. I have to be a straight up thug almost every single day, so at the end of it I’m not really looking to cater to a man’s needs while forsaking my own desire for love and affection. I want us to come home and breathe life into each other. I want to take turns cooking meals and helping kids with homework and cleaning. I have no desire to be a super woman juggling it all and accepting a quick plowing at night as the only physical intimacy from my significant other. The days of phenomenal dick and half-assed conversation being enough are over—it’s time to step up the game, fellas!

F with yourself

I think black women have been more than generous with the excuses for why it makes sense for us to be the glue that holds the relationship together. The long term effects of the cruelty of slavery, history of family separation, generational curses, yes, yes, to all that—but also, no. For generations we are the ones who have been cheated on, abandoned, emotionally and physically abused by men who no doubt suffered from some very deep-sated mental health issues. We are known for our perseverance and strength in spite of these factors—if you are a man who desires to lead a black woman of such character it’s high time you started coming correct. Don’t nobody care about your degree or your air of self-importance because you’ve never gone to jail or gotten caught cheating. Accomplishing personal goals and being good to your significant other is shit you are supposed to do. In my opinion, the traditional role of the provider has been missing the emotional aspect for far too long. Nowadays, you’re bringing home the bacon to a table that already has a feast laid out on it—what else do you have to offer, my dude?

And to be honest, some of you aren’t even all that interesting. You treat us like we are a game to be played, or like a whiny inferior person whose “spoiled ass” you have to give in to just to shut her up. You show up to meet the friends and you pose for the selfie but you’re not really taking the time to know who we are as people. You express a mild interest in our daily activities but intimacy and connection never seem to be the ultimate goal. In my experience, many men don’t seem to bother making the effort to really connect on deeper levels beyond slow missionary sex and fun conversations about nothing. If you want a place at the table I would suggest you explore deeper. Barging into an independent woman’s life just to prove that you can get in is lame. If you fight your way in make sure you have a purpose there and please GOD don’t waste her time!

She built the table herself, yes, but there’s so much more to carpentry than furniture. Cater to her emotional needs; build the foundation that will sustain the table and any other beautiful thing this woman decides to create in all her strength and independence. I promise you, there is room for you—your presence, your admiration, your genuine love and your time. Those are all things I would welcome with no hesitation or questions asked.

Sext

This guy gets it!

But…Not All Men!

Of course it’s not ALL men—shut up! This is a blog post to offer you something to think about. If it doesn’t apply to you, that’s ok. And if you are a good dude that knows how to complement, respect and keep a woman happy, perhaps you should spread the knowledge to your friends instead of always commenting on how you’re a good dude to an audience who doesn’t benefit from the declaration.

Comments are welcome below. (Don’t be a dick, please)

 

Why We Hate Tasha

Posted on by under The Crazy

Screenshot_2017-08-07-13-40-16-1

I am late to the game—as I am with most things—so it’s not shocking at all, that I’ve only now splurged for the HBO add-on to my Hulu account to watch Insecure. It’s always been a show I’ve meant to watch, but close friends of mine are barely getting a text back from me so there’s no way I have time to sit and binge watch a show that already has 1 complete season and a couple of episodes under its belt. But alas, a bout with depression and an overwhelming desire to disconnect from the world took over me and I could skip insert-event -here, and catch up on every single episode.

Here’s a terrible synopsis: Issa made the mistake of cheating on her boyfriend of 5 years (after her needs were not being met for at least two of those years) at a time when her boyfriend was just on the cusp of getting his life together. He sat on her couch jobless, yet supportive of her endeavors BUT still not attentive or aware of how the responsibility of carrying the whole household while being careful not to emasculate him in any way was taking its toll on her. Yes, he turned down the hot girl (Tasha) who hit on him and asked him for a date.

However, I think it’s important to note that he also beamed at this woman’s compliments and, no doubt, somewhere in the back of his mind added value to this woman because she encouraged him. This woman is a stranger who finds it easy to see him as genuinely nice guy and hardworking man NOT as the uncommunicative, unemployed neglecter who has taken too long to commit to his girlfriend who has swallowed her feelings about the relationship for years to prevent irrevocable damage to his ego.

Upon discovering Issa’s affair, her boyfriend becomes angry, they break up, and he immediately starts fucking Tasha. Tasha, played by Dominique Perry who is now reportedly receiving real-live death threats over a totally fictitious story line for a television show! Come one people (-_-) I was triggered by almost EVERY topic covered in each episode of Insecure thus far, however I am aware that it’s not actually real.

But…I get it.

I mean, don’t we hate that girl? The girl who seemingly gets to benefit from all our hard work we put in standing by a man when he’s trying to build something and make some sense of his life…? So, we let him go through his depression, hang out on the couch, never take us on dates and complain about his finances because you know that one-day things will get better. You know this because he tells you and you believe it in your heart because people are generally good and getting cheated on, lied to and dogged out is for your 20s. Your 30s is when you meet someone real and you decide to enter into a partnership and take the time to build something. You don’t waste time in your 30s because everyone is too old for the game-playing. Yet, I have friends in their 40s that I see dealing with fuckery and it never ceases to boggle my mind. Somewhere, deep in the recesses of my thoughts I have concluded that men prey on women with high self-esteem, drain them of their resources to make themselves stronger, then feed that strength and consistency into another source that looks more like the kind of woman they wanted anyway.

And that woman (Tasha in this case) is just accepting the hand me downs of a broken man who still doesn’t quite have his shit together. In a perfect world, black men would take their asses to counseling to maybe delve into the real answers to the question: why do you need your woman to be weak in order for you to feel strong? Why do you need a woman to endure with you and deal with your excessive gas lighting and bullshit before you can finally label her as “the one”? Why do you get to walk around damaged as fuck, destroying strong women in your wake, then pretend to the new bitch like all of your exes were just crazy and it was never your fault that things fell apart in the first place?

Why is it that a woman can bend over backwards to meet your needs and deep down you know you don’t really fuck with her like that but instead of breaking it off you break her with your inconsistency? You start treating her like she is not doing enough for you by not validating her needs and by slowly tapering off your love and affection, replacing it with half answers and no-shows until she wants to rip her hair out in frustration. You cruelly do a slow withdrawal of your love until she is playing scenarios over and over in her mind and wondering how things got to be so awful and pondering what exactly it was that she did to deserve to be treated this way. So, when the relationship finally comes crashing down she is definitely left feeling insecure (ahh, see what I did there) and as if she will never be enough for anyone.

Meanwhile, he is considered blameless in this scenario AND if his lack of affection and desire to meet her needs results in her cheating on him then he is twice the victor because he gets to play victim. She ain’t shit because she cheated. But really, he ain’t shit because he wasted her time. But men aren’t expected to forgive cheating—no one is expected to forgive and endure a cheater (or a neglector, or gas lighter or asshole or abuser) like a black woman is expected to. That’s exactly the mentality that is meant to keep us weak.

Fuck Tasha. Fuck him. And fuck all of you weak ass niggas that don’t put the proper effort into a relationship and then want to act like victims after you pushed the one woman who was trying to hold you down over the edge. Frankly, I am tired of having my loyalty tested and my needs and desires up for debate or option.

When is it time for black men to do better? Enough is enough.

Screenshot_2017-08-07-02-31-04-1 (1)

Why Joe’s New Song “So I Can Have You Back” is An Old Guy Fuckboy Anthem

Posted on by under The Crazy

joe_photo

I don’t know what’s happening to me, surely I’m getting old! I was in my car listening to the radio station that my mom used to listen to when I was young—grooving to some Chaka Khan and Earth, Wind and Fire because this is the kind of music that moves my heart these days. In the middle of all this, the latest song by Joe (you know—I won’t stop having sex with you until I hear your mama scream, Joe) comes on and it sounds like it might be this beautiful R&B ballad that was about to knock my socks off. Well, I suppose it would have if I had not listened to the lyrics (-_-)

So I Can Have You Back in my opinion, is the old guy fuckboy anthem of 2017. Perhaps it’s not nice of me to describe Joe as “old” but what I mean is that as you get older the more complicated love becomes. R&B songs are no longer about “let’s dance at this club and let me love you” but more like, “Can I come over and have sex with you when you put your kids to bed? Also, please hold me after because I am still traumatized by my past failed relationships.” Hence the lyrics to the song:

Pictures and pictures of the smile I remember

This just can’t all be true

I hope he makes the biggest mistake

The unforgivable that makes your heart break

I hope you tell him “sorry is just not enough”

And it goes from good to bad, so I can have you back

Joe is a fuckboy. Joe is getting older and lonelier by the second, so naturally he starts looking through old pictures and makes the decision that he is suddenly in love with an ex-girlfriend. I assume he had years to build and grow with this woman but for whatever reason it didn’t work out. C’est la vie, welcome to the real world, that’s how the cookie crumbles…so on and so forth. Let it go, and let her go—sounds like she’s moved on and quite possibly, is even happy without you. Meanwhile, here you are JOE, sending negative vibes and bad juju onto her relationship all for the sake of your second chance. Sighhhhhhh, we’ve all dealt with this dude. Post a decent selfie and he’s there! He’s always there, stalking your social media for signs of distress OR attempting to re-enter your life because he misses your friendship. Dude, we were never friends.

I always make the mistake of thinking that there is an age limit cut off for fuckboys. Obviously, that’s a naïve thought process and it is entirely possible for a young fuckboy (18-32) to blossom into a strapping fuckman (33-50+). For example, a friend of mine in her late 30s decided to take a chance on a man about 15 years older than her. He was awesome! Old enough to be established in his career and willing to wine, dine and sweet talk. The only problem is that he wasn’t wining, dining and sweet talking with his long-term girlfriend who ended up calling my friend, identifying herself and explaining the situation that the seat on his face was taken (and had been for years). As it would seem, the guy was attempting to line up hoes in different area codes because he had the money and liked to travel. Nice! There are plenty of old guy fuckboy songs for that particular scenario—most of them apologies for cheating tunes.

You know what I would enjoy? Some old school “I love you so I’m not going to fuck this up ,” kind of songs. Maybe a, “Some bitch tried to throw herself at me but I rejected her because I love you,” song. Or EVEN, “We had a healthy adult relationship that had to end. I wish you the best and I will not text “I miss you” in the middle of the night six months from now or inbox any of your social media,’ song. (These are all working titles, of course)

R&B for millennials is worse. Bryson Tiller’s Sorry Not Sorry hook is:

Girl if you don’t get the fuck from me

I know you thought we had somethin’ special

But you don’t mean nothin’ to me

Girl I’m sorry, you not the one for me

Well, damn.

Love is rough out on these streets! I suppose we should all just be grateful that fuckboys– young and old– may now be easier to identify by their taste in music.

For funny renditions of R&B classics remade for this day and age, click here. I got a kick out of it, I hope you will too!

Shattered Pieces

Posted on by under Poetry and Whiskey, The Crazy

I have a thing for broken men
I am no fixer, I just want to lay next to their shattered pieces
to worship
Cut my cheek on jagged edges
Taste blood as it runs down my face
And I tell myself this is what alive feels like
Knowing the both of us are really dead
Slow bled out a long time ago
But the truth is never real as long as you say it isn’t so
And I’ll probably never leave you if you tell me not to go
I am unhappy
But it’s my favorite dress and I tend to wear it so well
How it fits like a glove over the exaggerated swell of my hips
Just past the honey bee tattoo you used to lick and kiss
But I haven’t seen you and your tongue is fast becoming a memory
Visions of our future are slowly erasing, fading
Trading themselves in for loneliness and neglect
The irritable clench of your jaw as I pleaded and I wept
For the us that I thought we could be
Watching your passion transform into apathy
It was beautiful sad, it was just like you
It was sleeping late curled up in bed …the countless times you’ve never come through
I watch you stop caring and I withdraw further into myself
Tell me, are you so much in love with yourself you have none to spare for anyone else?
Or maybe just a little more for me
See, I’m a bit tired
Of waking up to missed text messages that I wonder if you sent because you knew I was asleep
And of leaving voicemails laced with desperation after the sound of the beep
Wishing for time and touch with abated breath
Flat lining on this table, you are the surgeon with each incision I fear you will call a time of death
Love doesn’t live here, didn’t give enough notice when it left
and I am being evicted in its wake
Let me stay, give me more pain I promise you I can take it
I am a pro, an underdog a masochistic hero
And besides, I am a lot more crazy than you know
I have  thing for you
I am obsessed with your shattered pieces
Let me lie prostrate, and let’s sit in silence as I worship
At your feet

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I’ve been reading articles lately—trying to find out what psychologists have to say about ways to love and, more importantly, ways to keep it. Something about retaining it is not my strong suit; it always slips through. Or, I hold on too long and I don’t know when to let it go and stop trying. People are hard to read these days, they don’t tell you when they’re through with you, they try to hang on to you while simultaneously reaching out to something more, something BETTER or just different. Society is insatiable and cruel. I seem to only be left with the prayer that everything will end up alright in the end—because I’m tired of spending a relationship’s duration flinging cheating accusations and keeping tally of love lost and considerations that slowly diminish with time.

Loveland Art Image 2

Loveland Art

I can’t stomach another break up—break apart. I don’t have the mental capacity to deal with this level of trial and error; the stakes are too high. I’ve given of body and time, spirit—pieces of me I won’t be quite so generous with the next time around. I’m only 32 but kind of feeling like I’m getting too old for the “next time around”. After this age it seems like we’re all kidding ourselves, arriving at the door with too much baggage and only the worst parts of ourselves to offer because we’re too beaten, broken down and plain selfish to offer up the good parts…the naked parts. Tell me, where do you hide your good parts?

 

No matter the outcome—of life and so many things— I suppose there is comfort in the possibility of finding peace within my own self-worth, and power in knowing I don’t have to force someone into validating that for me.

 

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*All artwork in this blog post courtesy of Loveland Art. Please click the link to check out more; also follow on Instagram: @lovelandart.

Unexpected

Posted on by under Poetry and Whiskey

I wish I had saved all of those text messages

You were so corny and I didn’t know that I loved it yet

I didn’t know your “good morning, pumpkin” wasn’t just to get some pussy

It was a mark of your consistency; a reflection of how often you think of me

You weren’t gaming me

you were simply

Being yourself

I’m Not Going to Cheat on You

Posted on by under The Crazy

-Because bad sex is a thing. It is a very bad thing that occurs way too often in life and I am not going to trade all of our bomb sex for what could be terrible, very bad, no good sex.

-Because I’m lazy and I don’t like to remember names.

-Because I’m lazy and I don’t like the idea of retelling stories twice.

-Because I’m an introvert and I have no interest in opening up to more than one person.

-Because I eat all of my food. Multiple dinner dates, mean multiple opportunities for me to stuff my face. I will become a house and lose both you AND the side dude and end up starring on the next episode of My 600 Pound Life. (However, on said episode I will be so adorable and vivacious people will love me! I will become a media sensation and my writing will FINALLY take off, propelling me into stardom and success and a life of glorious–oh,  sorry, I digress…)

-Because men have cheated on me before and I wouldn’t wish that kind of pain, betrayal and humiliation on anyone.

-Because I have cheated before and I wouldn’t wish that kind of pain, regret and humiliation on anyone.

-Because I love you. And in spite of what everyone says, for me, love IS enough.

Milk

Posted on by under The Crazy

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In my observation, one of the hardest things about modern dating, modern falling in love, modern commitment…is that there is no way of knowing how it’s all going to come to an end. With today’s technologies, attention spans and general cold attitude toward the feelings of others you just never know when your partner is going to send you that fateful “We’re done” text, then proceed to post pics of themselves on social media with the new bae. It sucks, and it kind of makes you not even want to bother with relationships in the first place.

What About Bob?

Before I go any further with this, I have to make the confession that I’m not quite as gangsta about this as I would like to be. Especially when I was in the online dating world I was a savage…ghosting people and not returning calls on a daily basis. I still feel only mild guilt about this because I hardly knew these people and I’m positive they’re over it by now. However, in an effort to not become a total douche bag I told myself I would officially break things off with anyone I had been dealing with for longer than a month.

Just last year as the holidays were around the corner and I was nearing the decision to close up my online dating account, I met a nice man (let’s call him Bob) that seemed pretty decent (meaning not a serial killer). As it turned out, he liked to go on dates, go for walks, talk on the phone and all that other stuff that most online dudes don’t like to do. He had just moved back to the area after living out of town for years so of course he had no car or job. However, none of this bothered me as I hopped in my car and traipsed across town to pick him up for dates.

Meanwhile, enter current beau JW, who I held no interest in whatsoever but just so happened to reach out to me during an open moment. As gorgeous as he was, I wasn’t interested in pursuing yet another dating dud so after meeting him I had no real plans to continue correspondence. I continued to date Bob, and while I wasn’t quite head over heels, I figured he was a genuinely nice guy that had begun to grow on me. However, JW showed persistence, I increased the time of day alloted to him and after more conversations I realized that I liked JW and wanted things to progress in his direction. But what about Bob?

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Well this is the part where I tell you that I told Bob I was seeing someone else, gave both Bob and JW equal quality time until my heart could decide which to keep. (I mean, technically it was perfectly ok for me to continue dating them both until one committed to make me girlfriend but that’s only something I recommend doing if both are equal contenders. If one guy is the clear front runner why not drop the other guy and try to add someone who can make it a healthy competition to the roster? That is, if you’re ok with the idea of dating multiple men…) But, nope! Bob pretty much got dumped via a slow fade out that I thought was classy and gracious but I looked back at my old text messages and realized that I was quite insensitive. Of this, I am not proud.

#WastingTime2016

We all know the right thing to do; if you’re not feeling someone anymore let them go. For the love of God, end it! 

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A few weeks ago, the hashtag #WasteHisTime2016 was trending on social media, and I believe it will probably be the most misunderstood trending subject of the year. I saw it simply described on Twitter as “…made by feminists to describe different ways to waste men’s time” but it is was much more than that. I don’t understand how when men post jokes about cheating on girls, having hoes and finally giving up hoes to settle down with wifey, collective humanity is supposed to jump for joy and shower them with “likes” and accolades. Women everywhere either have the sense of humor and give it a thumbs up, or we smile because we get it, its hilarious …but it also reflects a dating cruelty that’s been done to us and it feels awful to see it play out as some sort of joke on the internet. Waste his time 2016 was our time as women to finally to crack the jokes and have everyone laughing with us and not at us. For me, it was great testament to how strong women can be in spite of how we’ve been shitted on in our romantic lives. We aren’t always the weak ones; more often than not we are strong enough to heal, move on from losers and dare to love again.

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I am definitely an advocate for dating multiple people, keeping it casual, etc—but I do not condone disrespect. There is a way you can date around with no commitment without treating the women you are dating like a smorgasbord of hoes that deserve your inconsistent behavior and ambiguous communications. Why do you have to have a main bitch if you have side bitches? Why not just level with every woman in your life, date casually and if you then want to commit choose ONE and be about that life! If you don’t want to commit then continue on with your lazy susan of women as you please…but it’s just plain wrong to have one woman, that you supposedly like the most, thinking she is your one and only when she is not. If you are treating her like spoiled milk, pour her out. There’s plenty of new milk for you to drink.

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Things I Should Have Never Said and Did When I Expired

I’ve been a sidechick before. I found out after the fact and I truly felt that I was beyond the point of no return and I had no idea how to escape it. My subconscious thought literally was, “I’m in this. I am in love with him now, I can’t leave.” But of COURSE I could! I eventually lived up to the sidechicks dream and became a main but it was the most unhappy, paranoid and insecure time of my life. I didn’t deserve to be with an asshole with a proclivity toward cheating; always worried about who he was texting or what he was doing. Fuck that dude, I was a strawberry kiwi Starburst being treated like lemon!

Ironically, HE broke up with ME…poured me out and allowed me to be free. It was a long time coming but in retrospect I am grateful he let me go. I’m not sure that I ever would have done so myself. I beg of you, when your time comes, when relationship behavior changes and the writing is on the wall, do not be afraid to end things. Also, try not to do or say dumbass things that do absolutely nothing to help your healing process.

Famous Last Lines

-No one will ever love you like I do

Totally not true! Someone probably is currently loving all of my exes better than I could right now at this very moment. The beauty is I don’t care…and I never thought I would even get to that point.

-Social media stalking

Just don’t. I had a huge fight with the boyfriend just the other day and the first thing I did was unfollow him on Facebook. Once things go south in a relationship for me its morphing time and I literally turn into a Power Ranger with a special knack for jealousy and pettiness. So before I lit up his page with immaturity I recused myself. If you break up UNFRIEND (although I really think you shouldn’t follow each other on social media in the first place; do as I say not as I do!)

-I will never fall in love again

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I did; and were my relationship to end I probably would again. Falling in love is easy, remaining in love is the hard part. Trying and working and perseverance is the hard part and the part I think we mourn once relationships end. We resent all that hard work and effort we put into it. The romantic in me believes that someone worth fighting for is always bound to come along if I  am open and free myself from the thought that I am bound to the last person I was with. The practical part of me also knows that there is fulfillment outside of romantic relationships so if I never fall in love again maybe I’ll be a little saddened by that fact but overall I will be just fine.

Relationships from beginning to end are unpredictable. Lets remember to treat each other well, even if it means setting someone free, or making the courageous decision to free ourselves.

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Believe

Posted on by under The Crazy

I am growing a bit tired of myself. Every single day of my 30s it seems I am subject to experiencing something—even if it’s a minor occurrence—that has the potential to upset my world and rock my little foundation that I so carefully put together in my self-righteous 20s. For example, just last night I was perusing a love and marriage blog out of curiosity and boredom. After reading an article about the concept of “soulmates” (romantic or otherwise) I realize that I don’t believe in the idea of soulmates and the hype that goes along with it. Coming to that realization was a little surprising to me and one my friends even said, “Really? You being more of a free-spirited type I would think that you would…”As it turns out; NOPE

Does God really predetermine our lives and place us in the position to receive/meet this soulmate(s)? Or along our path, are we given the free will to make the choice of who to love and how much we will allow our bond to grow and endure with that person? I am not sure. I remember my two most meaningful relationships feeling as if the universe sanctioned our coupling. I felt the satisfying “this is where I belong,” and “this is where God wants me to be” emotions but in the end I feel like those same feelings made the breaking up process that much more difficult. Those very phrases turned into “Why would God do this to me?” and “Now we are not together where do I belong?” In the long run, I ended up fighting so hard for relationships that were not meant to be—and that’s not because the stars didn’t align the right away or I was outside of God’s will—but because it was time for me to choose better and move on. The action and effort that went into moving on emotionally from persons that I believed to be my true soulmates ended up being one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do in my life. It nearly killed me.

I still remember sex and intimacy with these men that I felt I was destined by God to be with. It felt impassioned and frantic, exciting and maybe a little scary. On some level, which I could never identify at the time, it felt out of my control. I am only 31 now but I feel I’ve gone through some things; as far as my romantic relationship goes I feel more settled. I am a willing part of intimacy and it is not cosmic forces and divine intervention. Love is not happening to me, I am not falling but I am making the choice to leap. Closeness and sexual acts no longer feel like a chaotic smorgasbord of unbridled emotion and sensations and love is not a place to belong. I always have a place within in me that I can call home. Life is all the more better with him in it but were I to lose him, were we to lose each other, I believe we would be able to find survival in the homes that we built inside of ourselves without missing the remnants we may have left inside of each other.

Regarding love and relationships, all of the things I thought I had such passion and belief in are so far behind me. The special wounds and empty spaces in my heart I never thought would heal or fill are an afterthought. I don’t have a soft spot for these past “soulmates”; I was able to move on and love again. I was able to choose love again, and I am happy that I didn’t succumb to the despair of my past thought processes that maybe I didn’t have much choice about who to love and how. It makes me wonder– what other ideals have I always used to define myself that have since fallen away…?

Urban dictionary

Soulmate: A person with whom you have an immediate connection the moment you meet — a connection so strong that you are drawn to them in a way you have never experienced before. As this connection develops over time, you experience a love so deep, strong and complex, that you begin to doubt that you have ever truly loved anyone prior. Your soulmate understands and connects with you in every way and on every level, which brings a sense of peace, calmness and happiness when you are around them. And when you are not around them, you are all that much more aware of the harshness of life, and how bonding with another person in this way is the most significant and satisfying thing you will experience in your lifetime. You are also all that much aware of the beauty in life, because you have been given a great gift and will always be thankful.

The Woodwork

Posted on by under The Crazy

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...