Type Casting No More

I used to have a type.  Tall, skinny, and (usually) yella/red.  But in the 2000s, I don’t think I’ve dated ONE dude that has been tall and skinny.  I talked to one dude that was skinny and tall-ish when I was 27, in 2000, but that is just ONE in almost twelve years.  WTH has happened to me? 

I’ve not only branched UP (up to 6’5”)¸ I’ve branched OUT (up to 280 lbs…at 6’5”, not 5’5…let’s not get crazy).  To give perspective – in college my boyfriend was 5’9”, 145 pounds.  He was bigger than I was so…. I guess the bigger I get the bigger my men need to get.  I’ve dated a couple of “combinations”:

·        5’9”, 175 lb

·        6’4”, 255 lb

·        5’8”, 220 lb

It’s funny how the one that I lusted after the most is the one most people would question me the most about.  He’s short and 5 months pregnant (LOL) but he curls my toes just thinking about him. 

I talked about in “2 Up 2 Down” how beauty has been redefined but it wasn’t until recently – when I got called out/questioned – that I realized just how much.  It almost makes me laugh.  At least it doesn’t disturb me as much as I thought it would.  Back in the day this would NOT have happened but it’s been fun.  We’ll see where it leads me.  I’m trying to get out the game in 2012 so I gotta stay open.

People I Want to Punch in the Throat

I found this blog that you need to read, People I Want to Punch in the Throat (www.peopleiwanttopunchinthethroat.blogspot.com) and now I’m addicted.  This broad is hilarious and talks about random things…and I have not disagreed with her yet.  And I, too, want to punch these people in the throat.  I know this blog is supposed to be about the single life of a single lady, but you know, as Single Lady, and as my “real self”, I come across people I really want to punch in the throat.  This is in no particular order.

1.      People who ask me why I’m single.  Now, this is not always an inappropriate question.  It just depends on the context.  There are in fact many reasons – some of them good - I am single but, to be honest, I don’t feel like I have to explain them to everybody who asks.  What I want to say is “mind your fucking business” or ask equally offensive questions like “how did you get a man/woman?” or “will you loan me a thousand dollars?” 

2.      People who want to introduce me to people they wouldn’t date themselves.  I am single, not desperate.  I do not want a man who is 3’8”.  I do not want a man who looks like he can open a Coke can with his teeth or that he chews on rocks. I do not want a man who does not have a good grasp on the English language.  And NEITHER DO YOU!  I want to settle down but I’ll be damned if I settle after waiting this damn long.

3.      People who assume I don’t want children because I don’t have them.  Get off of my ovaries.  You don’t know what is going on in there.  Hell, neither do I.  I don’t know if my shit works…I’ve never tested it out.  And won’t you feel like shit if you’ve talked all this yang and my shit doesn’t work?  I’m not receiving that…I’m going to have a mini-me one day.  Hopefully two.  And to all who are so concerned about my uterus: can I put you down for babysitting duties?

4.      People who count my money.  This is the quickest way to get cussed out.  Don’t tell me what I can afford.  Don’t tell me I’m cheap.  You don’t know what I’m doing with my money.  You don’t know what I have planned for my money.  Matter of fact – shut the fuck up.  If you’re not giving me any money, mind your fucking business.

5.      People who tell me what I “need to do” do when I didn’t ask for an outside opinion.  I am very open…obviously.  I often ask for advice.  Very often actually.  And when I do, I analyze it, decide whether it works for me, and either take it as a whole, in part, or totally discard it.  What I don’t like is when people say “what you NEED TO DO is…” when I didn’t ask.  (I recognize that I am being a hypocrite because I often give unsolicited advice even though I try not to.)  Don’t like it at all.  I really don’t like when folks give me unsolicited advice and then get mad when I don’t take it.  I try to be patient because, like I said, I do it too, but CLAWD I don’t respond well do funky attitudes.  You might be right but if you come at me sideways I might not do it out of meanness.  (Yes, I’m 12 years old.)  Or better (or worse) yet, I might just tell you to kiss my ass.

6.      People who take my kindness for weakness.  My daddy’s side of the family is, as my cousin says, kind but not nice.  Do anything for you…but will cuss you if need be.  Folks see so much of my mama in me that they forget that I’m a Harrison.  Bad idea.  I can set it off like the rest of them.  Difference is I’ll feel a little remorse after the fact.  A little.

I’m sure there are other folks who need to be punched in the throat but these are the ones I came up with off the top of my head.  I hope you don’t think less of me.  HAHAHA!  You probably don’t because you’re nodding your head in agreement and have already come up with #7-#10 of who else needs to be on your “need to be punched in the throat” list.

Free Food Ain't Free

A coworker/buddy of mine told me something really ignorant yesterday.  Per an article her 53-year-old single sister sent her, ladies in New York are using online dating sites, like match.com, not to look for love exactly, but to supplement their food budget.  In other words, meet men and get free meals.  What the what?  Is it that crucial?  Are folks THAT broke that they would date random dudes just to get free food?

Even in college I was not into “free food”.  Now, to be fair, I was not the hot chick in college so I didn’t have lots of opportunities to decide yes or no.  Let’s just say I got better with age.  (Ignore the flashback to my Spelman days snatch-back ponytail that I am sporting today.  I will be getting my hair done tomorrow.)  I’m called Single Lady for an obvious reason but you know what I’m saying.  But I digress… I say I was not into “free food” because free food isn’t really “free”.  Sure, it may not cost you money but it is not free.  You may get to choose a place you cannot afford on your own but it’s not free.  You may get to eat an entrée that you wouldn’t select if you had to pull out your own wallet but that meal is not really free.

You pay with your time.  You pay with your energy.  You pay with your attention.  And if you don’t like the dude, the price just might be higher than the cost of the “free” food.

Well, that is what I think anyway.  Maybe I’m just not nice…or just not nice enough to spend time with somebody I don’t like and smile about it.  I can’t sit there with a dude, wishing I was somewhere – ANYWHERE – else, thinking “well, at least it’s free food”.  Before I even get to that point, I can’t get to the point where I accept a date with a dude I am not attracted to just because I can get “free food”.  (I’m still not the baddest b* out but I attract my fair share of ragamuffins.)

Am I neurotic?  Is it just not that serious?  Am I just mean and intolerant?  Probably all of that, but dammit, I go to work everyday and I will eat microwave oatmeal, cheddar cheese rice cakes, granola bars, and KFC everyday just to avoid the not-really-free-food shenanigans. 

Hermie D. Clown [Done Messed] Around...But What Does That Mean To You?

Herman Cain may have lost his seat with the big boys and girls because of women other than his wife.  Now, if the sexual harassment claims are true…well, fry his ass because that is a crime and nobody should get away with that kind of shit.  But this new broad, this “friend” that his wife didn’t know about, the one claiming the on/off affair for over a decade might just be the one to mess him up.  But should an affair –excuse me, an alleged affair – really sink a man’s professional aspirations?

Some would say yes, especially when one’s aspiration includes becoming the President of the United States, for the office of the President should evoke a sense of trustworthiness.  If a man’s wife can’t trust him, can the people in his country?  If his judgment is so clouded that he believes an affair will either 1) not be discovered or 2) not disturb his life’s status quo, can we trust his judgment in all the roles and responsibilities held by the President?  Will he do right by the country if he can’t do right by his wife?

Now, folks let JFK and Marilyn Monroe slide – have an affair that even those of us who were not even born then know about – but is that because infidelity was more the norm then?  Or is it because it wasn’t news, wasn’t reported on every news outlet every 36 minutes of every day like Herman Cain’s allegations?  JFK damn sure wasn’t on YouTube and wasn’t discussed daily on FaceBook but I can find everything I ever wanted to know about old Hermie on either.  Maybe Herman Cain needs to switch teams and go Democrat because Black folks sure got over Messy Jackson’s side piece and illegitimate kid and Bill Clinton’s cigar pretty quickly.  Me? I figured if Mrs. Jackson and Mrs. Clinton liked it, I might as well love it; I wasn’t in danger of catching anything from those dudes.  Also, Messy Jackson couldn’t lose any more respect from me...I had very little before that came out.  But that is neither here nor there.

On FaceBook a friend suggested that we’d do well in this country if we would adopt a “who cares what happens in other folks’ bedroom” attitude that other cultures seem to have.  I kind of agreed but had to counter that it would be more of at “who cares what happens in MEN’S bedrooms” because women are still not afforded the same sexual freedom as men around the globe.  Maybe if we stopped focusing on who was sleeping with whom – and how, and when, and why, and where – we could focus on a person’s talent, skills, and other offerings.  Maybe a person CAN compartmentalize…have a messy personal life and still be qualified to lead a community, corporation, or even a country.  Maybe a person CAN have two or more character profiles, that he or she can successfully transform themselves to fit whatever situation they are in.

But isn’t that what we are most afraid of?  That we are only seeing a part of what a person is.  That we will never really know who a person really is.  That we only know what a person wants us to know, see what a person wants us to see.  That we are missing some information that we need.  That we might be doing the same thing in our relationships.

I am afraid I can skillfully compartmentalize when I am not being careful and vigilant.  That I can present what I want a person to see, especially if I am ashamed of a part of myself…at least until I have been given permission, per se, to freely share without fear of judgment or retribution.  But I work hard – HARD, I say – at it.  I make myself uncomfortable sometimes to be open and honest.  Even writing THIS is sometimes painful to me but I promised myself and YOU that I’d be transparent.  Sometimes I may fail even when I am clear on what I think and what I feel.  But I promise to keep working. 

And working.

And working.

Need a Daddy

I like to say that I’m spoiled – and lots of folks will agree – but the truth is, I’m really just well-loved.  Sure I got most of what I asked for but what most people don’t realize is that I didn’t ask for most of what I wanted.  Even as a child I understood the concept of “needs vs. wants” and I knew not to take advantage.  But like I said – few people would know that…until now, since I’m putting it out there for everyone to read and know.

My father is the guilty party in all of this, if you have any question.  I don’t know if it’s because I look like him with a wig or if it’s because he just loves his first born or if that’s just how daddies are with their girls – and I don’t care WHY – but he very seldom told me no.  Excuse me, very seldom TELLS me no.  I’ve grown very accustomed to having my needs met by my father when they are presented to him.  The difference now, though, is that those needs are emotional, not financial or material and, as before, it takes a lot for me to even present my needs to him.  And the only WANT I even present is his presence.  Even grown women want to spend one-on-one time with their daddies…even if we’re silent.  Sometimes, like TODAY, I just want to be where he is for no other reason than because he is there.

You know I’m struggling with the “should I/shouldn’t I” with respect to having a baby.  (Side note: This is all assuming the option I have right now stays viable.  If it disappears this conversation becomes moot.)  Of course I’m afraid of being alone but I’m even more afraid of my child not having a father like mine…or not having a father at all.  (Again – this would be HIS decision, not mine, because my “option” is one that I want around forever…once we work some things out.)

I have so many ideas of what a father is and does. I’m sure one man might not have it ALL but don’t mess with my fantasy, okay.

·        Sincerely offers to rub my swollen feet…and I might break my “don’t touch my feet” rule if they hurt bad enough

·        Tells me “It’s okay, you already have a mini-me” when the baby doesn’t look like me (which just better NOT happen)

·        Takes us to church

·        Is there clapping and holding his arms out (or holding the video camera) with the baby takes his or her first unsteady steps

·        Is there when the baby has a bad dream

·        Helps with the poo diapers (how about takes ALL the poo diapers…no? Damn.)

·        Tells me that it will be all right when I get nervous every third day (because I will)

·        Teaches our son and daughter to hit the baseball.  (I can teach the throw and catch…but not the hitting…ask Daddy.)

·        Sits through our daughter’s dance class (…reading the paper if he has to, that’s allowed)

·        Reads bedtime stories

·        Listens to prayers

·        Tells the baby that big girls and big boys sleep in their own beds so they will get out of our room

·        Takes our daughter on her first date

·        Teaches our son how to open doors and pull out chairs for ladies

·        Is the first man to tell our daughter that she is beautiful

·        Teaches our son a firm handshake

·        Makes sure our daughter knows what Pookie and Ray-Ray REALLY have on their minds!!!!

·        Teaches them how to drive (have you seen me drive?)

·        Sits with me at the piano, violin, dance, trumpet, tuba, band, etc. recital and clap loudly even if it is terrible

·        Teaches our son to tie a tie (especially a bow tie)

·        Tells our son to suck it up when he gets hazed for the frat (I mean, gets words of encouragement from the frat…Because Deltas don’t haze I won’t have to do this for my daughter. /straight face/)

·        Says “rub some dirt on it and get back in the game” when the kids get hurt (not bad) playing sports (while I’m having the panic attack…forgetting that I also used to get hurt and lived through it)

·        Can and will do everything I can and will do in the rearing of our children

I don’t know if Daddy did all this stuff but I know he did enough of it for me to know how much he loved me and that he was a REAL father.  I cannot deprive my child of this kind of love, security, and influence.  Not if I can help it.

Two Up, Two Down - I Think It's Some Bullshit

Note:  My last piece, Waiting to Exhale, was kind of deep and caught one of my faithful readers off guard.  So I decided to lighten it up again to give yall a break from the angst.  That piece was hard to write, though.  I felt every word when I wrote it and I feel them every time I re-read them…and they hurt.  This one, though, tickles me so hopefully you will get a few laughs.

Have you heard of the “two up, two down” rule for who you are eligible to date?  That means you can date people who are two up or two down from whatever hotness “rating” you are.  For example, if you are an 8 your range is 6 to 10.  Sounds pretty good, except… what if you don’t want to go down?

I’m a solid 7.  I’m cute on the regular day but I can go from scruffy to stunner when I “clean up”.  I have a nice smile and fantastic legs.  I’ve even been called mesmerizing.  (Lame line but I blushed…a sister loves a compliment!) So yeah, I can confidently rate myself as a 7.  But I don’t want a brother that’s a 5.  Why should I have to settle for one just because someone came up with this stupid rule?

I mean, I can understand the rule.  It keeps people grounded in reality and SHOULD keep folks from getting their feelings hurt.  A 3 should not be trying to holler at a dime, expecting a favorable result. (Why is it always the dude hollering at the girl that is out his league and not the other way around?  Maybe it’s because girls don’t tell about when they get shot down.  We have more discretion…and pride.)  I understand the concept of “beauty is in the eye of the beholder”.  Some folks might not rate me as high as I do.  Hell, I’m just learning to value my-damn-self.  I’ve undervalued myself for so long it’s been a struggle to see myself for who and what I really am.  (That’s for another day.)  But if I think a dude is a 5 – and that’s bad because I am generally very generous – he doesn’t have a shot.  YOU might think my man is a 5 but I don’t care.  As long as I think he’s at least a 5.5 (smile) he’s in there.   I want a dude that I WANT…you know what I’m saying without me having to say it?  I mean, I want to think about his smile and smile.  I want to think about his eyes and remember how it feels when he looks at me.  I want to think about his arms and feel his hugs even when he’s not there.  I want the mere thought of his hands to conjure up memories of his caresses on my face.  I want to think about his ass sometimes, too, and think how nicely it fits into my hands…kind of like a double cheeseburger.  I do NOT want to think “he is all right…I just have to move his stomach over to get to it.”  #ijustthrewupinmymouth.  Again, beauty is in the eye of the beholder but dammit, I want to behold the kind of beauty that is beautiful to ME.  (I used to have a type but I haven’t dated a tall and skinny man in the 2000s so clearly beauty has been redefined.)

Am I shallow?  Maybe but so are you.  Quit playing…you don’t want a knuckle dragger either.  Hell, I know that some dudes might not be mesmerized by me so they pass me by.  Their loss.  I’m a good woman.  Go ahead and say it:  An average dude might be a good dude.   Yes, I might be missing out.  I think every single, solitary one of us has missed out on somebody that could have made us happy.  I think if we are honest, there is somebody we think about from the past.  But trust and believe, I don’t long for the 5.

(While I’m sitting her bullshitting, I need to be sending an email to the one who makes me smile when I think of his smile…you didn’t think I just came up with that, do you?  I had somebody in mind!  HE needs to quit tripping before I’M the one that got away….)

Waiting to Exhale

“I thought if I gave him what he needed, he’d give me what I needed.” (Bernadine)

I remember that line so clearly from the movie Waiting to Exhale.  It resonated with me.  Just now I felt it in my spirit…and it hurt.  Why?  Because I have thought that if I gave him what he needed, he’d give me what I needed.

I’m sure I’m not the only one but I’m just going to tell you about me.

When I think of all the stupid situations I’ve dealt with, only one fills me with the kind of regret that chokes me from the inside.  The kind that takes my breath away and causes my heart to beat funny, but not in the good way.  Because I thought if I gave him what he needed, he’d give me what I needed.

The problems with that are plentiful:

·        I didn’t ask him what he needed. I just thought I knew.

·        I didn’t ask him if he wanted ME to give him what I thought he needed.

·        I never told him what I needed.

·        He never agreed to give me what I needed.

The key is that he never agreed to give me what I needed.  I just assumed that if I Loved him hard enough he’d Love me back and want to give me what I needed.  Until that point I’d Love enough for both of us.

Wrong.  Nobody has enough love to love for two people.  Ever.  But you couldn’t have told me that.

(Inhaling.)

He is now married to someone else and I don’t really wish him well.  Sorry, I’m not that evolved.  (My chest hurts right now.)  He represents every bit of stupidity that I have done and allowed all wrapped up in a black lace bow.  He represents some of the most pain I have ever felt, even if I never said so.  He represents the biggest feeling of desperation I have ever felt; I actually wanted to call it off but didn’t because I had invested so much and it had to work out…right?

(Holding my breath.)

Years later, after self-reflection, I realize that I must not have Loved him because I don’t have any warm feelings for him left at all.  I never want to see him again.  I never want to hear from him again.  I don’t want any reminders of him.  I don’t wish him physical harm but that is about it.

I guess pain turns to bitterness – ANGER – sometimes, doesn’t it?  This anger is at myself…him too…but mostly me.  Thank God I know better now.  Let’s hope I put it in practice.

(Exhaling.)

Love 'Im or Leave 'Im

Confession:  I love the stupid shit that is Maury.  Especially baby daddies.  I can’t get with the yelling and dancing (what does booty shaking, crip walking, and doing the splits have to do with paternity?) but I love “Murrrrrry (never Maury), look at his ears!” because I have my daddy’s nose and my teeth are crooked at the bottom like his so…it’s possible you can tell by the ears.  Now, “he has a little wee wee like his daddy” is a stretch but it makes me laugh.  Because I’m tacky like that sometimes.

I was watching today and it was the typical “He da daddy, Murrrrrrrry.” “No I ain’t because she’s a cheating ho but since we been together for 3 years and have 2 other babies together we gon’ stay together.”  Dun, dun, dun (dramatic music and loud audience cheering) He ain’t the daddy (she runs to the back to cry on the floor while the audience ooooohs and ahhhhhs)…but they been together for 3 years and have 2 other babies together and they gon’ stay together.  If that ain’t some hood shit I don’t know what is.

But it is real isn’t it?  Yeah she cheated and had a baby by another dude (which IS kind of terrible) but do you break up for EVERYTHING someone does wrong?  How do you decide what is a break-up-able offense?

It’s easy to say what you’d leave for but I don’t really think it’s that easy in a real relationship.  Sure, if he kicks your ass from here to Chinatown, you’d probably walk out…but maybe not if he signs up for the Men Stopping Violence program.  Or maybe you do until he completes the Men Stopping Violence program.  (This is a program in the Atlanta, GA area, by the way, in case anyone needs this.)

You might say you’d walk as soon as he cheats.  But what if you’ve been together for 10 years and it’s just once and you all were in the middle of a really rough patch in your relationship but you don’t know if you really want to end it?  Is that the straw that breaks the camel’s back or is that the thing that wakes you up and makes you realize you really, REALLY want to make this thing work?

Or what if he starts doing the contraband and you promised you wouldn’t deal with a druggie like your daddy?  Do you put him out or stick by him and get him help?

It’s sooooo easy to say when you’d stay and when you’d go when you’re single.  In all these cases, I have a quick answer (hell no I’m not going to tell you because I’m sure as soon as I get a man and fall in love I’m going to change my mind on at least 2 of them).

Love makes you do all kinds of stuff your logical mind – the one that doesn’t have love written all over it – does not abide by.  Or maybe love opens your mind to a different kind of logic that allows for shades of gray that a single, black and white mind cannot grasp.

Being Single Sucks

Sometimes being single is the best thing in the world.  You get to go where you want to go without checking in with anybody.  You get to do what you want to do without checking in with anybody.  You get to spend your money on what you want to without checking in with anybody.  However, sometimes being single sucks…hard.  Today, when I’m still a little nervous about my mother’s health issues, and I really don’t want to burden my friends with it but still want to talk about it a little bit, I’m feeling that single sucks.

Being single sucks when you want to go to dinner and your girls are not available….

Being single sucks when you don’t want to come home to an empty house….

Being single sucks when you have to put your girl down as an emergency contact….

Being single sucks when you want to have sex with somebody else....

Being single sucks when you need the kind of hug that comes from “that man”…the hug that is different than your mama’s, daddy’s, sister’s, brother’s, Soror’s….the kind of hug that makes you feel safe, secure, and comforted...and you roll over only to find your body pillow….

Being single sucks when you need to be told you are beautiful and Mama just won’t cut it….

Being single sucks when you need the tears that fall in your sleep wiped away and have to do it yourself….

Being single sucks when alone turns into lonely….

Being single sucks when you are afraid and you have no one to whisper your fears to in the dark….

Being single sucks when you have no other options.

It’s hard to smile sometimes when I am faced with the reality of my singleness¸ especially since I do want to be married and have children one day.  I do want somebody to check in with one day.  But until then, I’ll try to enjoy getting into as much “it’s great to be single” stuff as possible.

Being Single Rocks

You know, sitting in my round, swivel chair (my favorite spot in my house), watching football, stomach full as a tick, with piles of laundry that need to be folded but I’m not about to do it right now, I’m thinking, “Thank God I’m single.” 

In August, I traveled every, single weekend and I thought, “I’m so glad I’m single.”

I having a Girls’ Night In tonight with two of my favorite Sorors and we’re going to eat pizza and watch Say Yes to the Dress and I didn’t have to coordinate with anybody but them and I’m thinking, “I like this single thing.”

I was wiggling my back because it’s a little stiff and was thinking, “hmmm….massage” then “no, spa day!”, and thought how lucky I am that no one is counting my money because I’m the only boss of me!

I look at my legs that have not seen a razor in a minute (too much fuzz to be cute), and I’m laughing…and happy that this single broad has no man to scar for life with this stubble.

You know what, sometimes being single is the best thing going.

A few months ago, I put out on FaceBook a question: What is/was the best thing about being single?  I got some interesting responses.  Most of them were around the fact that single folks can up and go whenever they feel like it (TRAVEL!!!), don’t have to check in with anybody, don’t have to coordinate with anybody , don’t have to consider anybody else’s schedule when they just feel like doing something.  (Of course if you are dating someone you want to be considerate but if you want to go see your mama and he has to work, so what, you can still go…he doesn’t have to go; he isn’t family yet.)  One of my girl cousins made me laugh when she said that when you are single and live alone, if you bring home a box from last night’s dinner you know it’s still in there when you get home from work. (YES INDEED!  You know how aggravating it is when you have your mouth set for something all day long and it is GONE when you get home!?!?!?).  One of my male cousins piped up with, “sounds a lot like being a husband”.   I could have thrown a shoe at him!  (I have a good arm but I can’t throw from Georgia to Louisiana.)  It did make me wonder if being a husband is as “free” as being a single woman…and ticked me off!  LOL!

Yall know by now that I want to be married with children…BAD.  I cannot believe God would deprive me of such blessings but He is clearly (CLEARLY) not paying any attention to MY time schedule.  I am sure He won’t let my eggs go to powder before I have a baby…(right, Lord?...asking like He is reading my blog).  But right now, I have to live what I got and focus on the positives, right?

Some folks may think my life is boring, and sometimes it is, but it’s mine.  And for now, I’m living the Single, Single, Single….Life!  (Single Ladies clap your hands!) (If you don’t know that song, PLEASE don’t tell anybody!)

Keeping It Real....It's My Fault, Too

When I decided to write this blog, I promised myself that I would keep it real.  I would tell the truth, the whole truth…well, as much of it as required to say what I needed to say and say it honestly.  So here it goes…I have been played. Played, I say!  Played for a fool.  And sometimes – oftentimes, actually – it was my fault.  (See, I’m being so honest it hurts.)

You see, I am one of those broads who loves Love.  I want more than anything to Love and when I get a chance to express love and Love, whew, it’s exciting, especially when it is reciprocated.  Destiny’s Child has a song, “Cater to You”, and baby, that is me!  (Well, except that I think they talk about taking off shoes or some shit to do with feet.  I don’t do feet.  At all.)  I love to do for a man.  But that’s neither here nor there.  Let’s go back to the key word in this paragraph…reciprocated.  That’s where it goes wrong for your girl.  Sometimes I don’t recognize when what I’m feeling and giving ain’t reciprocated…or at least not in the same way.  Okay, I USUALLY DON’T.  Not until I’m heartbroken and doing the ugly-cry and eating caramel sundaes and fried chicken (well, grilled chicken since I’m on Weight Watchers).

The worst part about it is that I get mad at the brother when I am hurt.  No, the WORST part is that I hold grudges and wish bad things on them.  (Like, for example, make their wee wee leak so they have to wear women’s Poise pads.)  Holding grudges really only locks me in because they don’t give a shit that I am at the house hurting and damaged.  REALLY don’t give a shit that I’m giving the next man the side-eye because he said something that sounded like some foolishness that I’d heard before.  They are out living well while I am in a little bit of self-inflicted hell.

We all know that I should forgive the men who have hurt me…who I have allowed to hurt me, who I have hurt myself over.  It is for my benefit, not theirs.  More than that, though, I need to forgive myself for all the mistakes I’ve made all in the name of Love…or lust…or “please let this be Love”…or straight up bullshit that I’ve allowed.  Today I realized in a new way that holding on to past pain is probably killing the potential love story brewing somewhere in my life.  No, that holding on to past pain, and INFLICTING IT ON OTHERS, is DEFINITELY killing my potential Love story.  So I need to be healed of the pain and release the anger toward the folks who don’t give a shit that I’m angry.  And I need to be grateful that some of these folks that walked away before I was ready to let them go did me a favor…but that’s a whole ‘nother story. (smile)

Later note:  When I finished writing this, rather than thinking of the folks that I wanted apologies from, I thought of the apologies that I could have given back in the day and even now, for projecting past pain from the last man on the next man.  It’s too late and pointless for 99.99% of them but I will do it on the inside. J

love jones

A few years ago, in the middle of a fit about a man that I was involved with, a friend and I had a disagreement on whether I was in love with the dude.  I said no and she vehemently disagreed.  She thought I was unequivocally in love with the man.  We were at a stalemate in the discussion.  What I realized was that we were not working with the same terminology. I have my own way to define this love thang.

To me, there are many levels of love: luv, love, Love, and in love.

Luv:  Meh, it’s what you just kinda say about things.  I luv my car.  I luv that shirt.  I luv that haircut girl.  See what I mean?  Meaningless.

love (small L): Small L love is affection. These are the relationships that keep you going, that sustain you, that lift you.  You love your mama and daddy, brothers and sisters.  You love your girlfriends.  You love your guy friends.  You love your cousins and nieces and nephews and aunts and uncles.  You want the best for these people. You’d do just about anything for these people.  You’ll answer the phone at 3:00 AM for these people and not cuss…too much.  You’ll let them sleep on your couch for a few days…or more.  You would loan these people a few (FEW) dollars (okay, give…they ain’t paying back jack).  You let them dress you in pink and green bridesmaid dresses…. Oh, well, you get the point.  You love these people and are sure they love you back.

Love (big L): Now, this is romantic Love.  Unfortunately, this Love may not be mutual.  It’s scary and dangerous.  This is the Love that makes a woman’s heart beat a little bit erratically, the kind that gives a woman butterflies in her stomach. (I’m smiling just thinking about it!)  This is the Love that makes a woman cook a man a 5-course meal in a bra, panties, stilettos and an apron… with a migraine.  This is the “can you stand the rain” love.  This Love makes you smile in the middle of a meeting at work while they are talking about potential layoffs. (You don’t give a shit; you’re thinking about how it feels when he holds you.)  This is “hop on one foot, bark like a dog (arf, arf), a big dog (woof, woof)” act like you have no sense kind of love.  This is the Love that makes a woman drive 3 hours just to be there when you get off from work.  This is the Love that makes a woman get her, ahem, “front yard” cut in the shape of a Kappa Diamond.  (I love the Nupes but even I draw the line at this shit.)  This is the Love that…hell, you know what I’m talking about.  Every single one of you reading this knows exactly what I’m talking about AND can conjure up the memory – good or bad - of somebody that made you feel that kind of Love.  We’ll get back to that in a minute.

In love: THIS is the big one, the one that was the source of the big argument.  See, I don’t think you can be in love all by yourself.  Think about it.  It’s called being IN love.  If you are alone in the thing, whose love do you have to fall into?  Note: it is dangerous to confuse Love with being IN love.  You might jump in head first without realizing there was no love to fall into…and you hurt yourself.  Think jumping in a waterless pool.  Same danger except your heart is broken rather than your neck.

I think most of us have Loved somebody and have great memories of that person.  Actually I believe that the feelings you have of that person after the fact give a hint about the sincerity of the Love you felt about them in the first place.  If you wouldn’t pee on them if they were on fire, you may want to do some self-reflection to determine what your true feelings were because I’m willing to bet they weren’t real Love.  I have certainly had to do that recently…and had to acknowledge that what I thought was Love was something totally different.

But when the Love is real, it will change to love (small L) but it never goes away. After all, he is your ex-future baby daddy. You still smile when you think of him.  You want the best for him.  You would still run to the hospital if he is in an accident…and worry about what it might look like later.  You still feel protective of him.  You might set it off in a club when someone says something disrespectful against him. (Bellbottoms, late 90s.  Hey, I was young.)  You might feel a slow-burning but 1600 degree anger – trying hard not to shoot the unsuspecting messenger – when you hear that his pain is being mocked.  You check people who talk shit him and don’t know him.  Forget being “mad on my behalf”!  I actually don’t appreciate it.  (Now that I’m older I realize that it is not a show a sisterhood to be mad on somebody else’s behalf; it’s stupid.  She will get over it and you will still be mad.  Support the sister but keep in mind how LITTLE of the situation you really know.  Could have saved myself a lot of grief and Tums had I figured this out years earlier than I did.)

So how many times have I Loved and been in love?  That depends on how honest I’m being with myself.  I know I’ve REALLY Loved at least 3 times and been in love at least once.  I’ve had plenty of “thought it was Love…until I realized it was some bullshit”.  And yet, I’m still hopeful…and prayerful.

Single, But Not Bitter....Really?

I really had to think: am I really not bitter?  First I had to ask: what does bitter really mean?  So I looked it up.

Bitter:         

·         characterized by strong feelings of hatred, resentment, cynicism, etc.

·         characterized by intense antagonism or hostility

·         having or showing deep-seated resentment

Hmmm…. AM I bitter?  I’ve been bitter (PISSED OFF) about a whole bunch of other stuff in the past (don’t ask, you don’t have all night), and if I think about it too hard, I can get mad again, but not about being single – not in the present, anyway.  (Last year… whew…let’s not go there!)  Today, I’m just sad about being single.  That’s what I am.  Sad.

When I think about being single, sometimes I wonder what is wrong with me.  Now, don’t give me the “nothing is wrong with you” and “any man worth a damn will love you for who you are”.  I KNOW all that but sometimes that just doesn’t matter on the inside.  Sometimes I feel like “why NOT me?” especially when I see some of the scallywags that are in relationships and married.

My brother is separated from the most raggedly woman I’ve ever met in my whole Black life.  CLAWD CHEEZUS I’ve never EVER met someone so trifling.  This trick said to me – in a condescending tone, no less – “no offense, but I could never imagine not being married by the time I was 30.”  Bitch.  I wanted to hang my size 8 shoe off in her ass.  Straight roundhouse kick to her throat.  (Shut up!  I know my knees are bad and I’d end up on crutches but hate, weight, and Tae Bo would have gotten my leg up there in a snap!)  But really, how in the fuck did this bitch get a husband and I can’t? 

But whatever.  I would NEVER want my brother’s hopefully soon-to-be-undone-marriage so I better quit comparing because God might say “oh, you jealous of her?  Let me give you what she has.” And I end up with some foolishness. (Didn’t I just say her shit was raggedly?  No thanks.)

Okay, I AM bitter about SOME folks having husbands but not about the fact that I am single…as the condition…just sometimes in a comparison.  Does that make sense?  (Probably not.  I don’t think I’m expressing it right.)

I’ve been told that I don’t believe I deserve a good relationship.  That I don’t think I’m worthy of a man that loves me…and just me…and wants to be with me…and just me.  Of course, I rebuke THAT demon!  The hell, I say!  Of course I do.  So why the negative self-talk?  Why do I tell myself all what is wrong with me?  Why do I give myself all the reasons that I am undesirable and why I don’t have a man?  Why don’t I affirm all that I am rather than focus on all that I am not?  Why do I give more emphasis to what I don’t have as opposed to what I have?  I know that what I am is much more than what I am not and what I have is much more than what I don’t…don’t I?  No, really…I know that, right?

No, I’m not bitter, I’m sad. I don’t have the energy to get or stay mad about it.  How can I be bitter when I am partially at fault for not being in a relationship?  Talking myself out of confidence isn’t going to project a “I’m the one for you” image.  If I was doing everything “right” and I still wasn’t making any progress then maybe I would be a little bitter, but until then…gotta make some changes in my life and not focus on what’s going on with other folks.

No, I Don't Have a Man...So

I have to be honest with you.  I never thought I’d be 38 and still single and child-free.  This is NOT how I thought my life would be.  I am not bitter because my life is very good.  Sure I’d love to be married and I’d love to be a mama one day but what I want RIGHT NOW is for people to quit talking shit about me being single. 

If I hear “you act like you don’t need a man” or “you’re just too picky” one more time I swear somebody’s head is going to get bust…straight to the white meat.  The way I see it is I’m in a catch 22.  I’m single so I have to take care of myself.  I’m the only one writing checks to GA Power, Scana, Wells Fargo Mortgage, LA Fitness, etc.  I have to take my car in for an oil change.  I have to sit all day at the car place, hoping they are not fixing stuff that doesn’t need to be fixed because I don’t know jack.  If I cared that my car was yellow-green instead of silver, I’d be the one responsible to get my car washed (notice I didn’t suggest that I was getting out there to wash my own car…let’s not get crazy).  I have to pick up my own dry cleaning.  I have to go to Publix, Target, and Walgreen’s for chicken, toilet paper, toothpaste.  Anyway, you get the picture.  I do it all on my own.  That’s not saying that I don’t NEED a man.  (Baby, I NEED A MAN and I can’t wait to get the right one!!  I’m not even going to touch all the reasons I need one and want one because that’s not the topic.)  I am just saying that I have it covered right now. I have to!  Think about this.  What if I was in the space where I NEEDED the man that I don’t have to do all these things?  What wouldn’t get paid?  Would I have to live in apartment because I needed to wait for the man I don’t have to buy a house?  Would my lights get turned off?  Would my car break down because I was waiting on the man that I don’t have to take it for service?  Would I starve because the man I don’t have didn’t stop to Publix?  And tell the truth – how many of yall would think I was a raggedly so-and-so for letting my business get so raggedly just because I don’t have a man when I’m clearly an educated and employed woman?  How about – “Girl, you better get your shit together and quit waiting on the man you don’t have to handle your business! You better know how to take care of yourself by yourself.”  Don’t lie!  If you’ve never SAID, you’ve THOUGHT it about somebody that “got to do better than that”.  (I know I have!  I see a sister whose shit ain’t together it takes all I have in me not to say something.)

Now, the whole “picky” thing ticks me off more than the “needy” thing.  I’m 38, in good health, kinda cute, got a lot going for me, nice, funny… Why in the HELL would I want a man who is not good for me?  Notice I didn’t say “good ENOUGH” for me.  That’s subjective.  A man who looks good on paper might not be worthy but the man who only has 1 suit in his closet might be a better fit.  Why can’t I want a man that is employable? (In this economy even the most intelligent and qualified brothers and sisters are out of work so “must have a good job” can’t be a deal breaker for me right now.  Hell, Lockheed just laid off a gang of people. Praise God I wasn’t one of them!)  Why can’t I want a man that doesn’t have 3 kids by 3 different women, none of which he married?  Why can’t I want a man that is nice looking TO ME?  Why can’t I want a man that can read? And has read more than the articles in Playboy (since you know they buy the magazines for the articles)?  Why can’t I want a man that doesn’t have a crazy ex-wife or baby mama?  Why can’t I PREFER a man without a baby mama?  I understand that at my age I might be the second wife and I’m cool with that.  Why can’t I want a man who wants children?  Hell, if it’s important to me, why can’t I want it?  And why is it considered PICKY to have standards? 

Dammit, single women can’t win for losing.  You know what? If people would keep that bullshit about the crisis women are in because we don’t have men out of their mouths, we would be in a better place.  Life and death is in the power of the tongue.  We need to stop saying that there are no good men out there.  THERE ARE!  And guess what…I’m going to marry one of them.  Who knows WHEN – and I’m not going to front, I do get impatient sometimes – but I feel like God wouldn’t put this desire on my heart if he didn’t intend to give it to me…in His time of course.  Until then, I’m going to try and enjoy being single.  I can read all night if I want to.  I can eat a grilled cheese sandwich for dinner if I’m too lazy to cook.  I can walk around the house nekkid and not worry about giving anybody mixed signals.  I can go out to eat when and where I want to without coordinating it with anyone unless I want company for conversation.  I can get massages every month without somebody telling me what I don’t need.  I can wear my head scarf without worrying about whether “he” is going to think I look crazy.  (Bump that! I am wrapping my hair every damn night!)

I said I wasn’t going to go into why I want a man and I won’t say much but I will say this: a good man can do for you what your mama, daddy, brother, sister, Sorors, friends, cousins, coworkers…etc. cannot do.  You need to figure that out on your own.  Just make sure he meets your NEEDS as well as your WANTS.  (I need to work on that my-damn-self.)

Introduction

This blog is about my life as a single woman who doesn’t want to stay single.  There is so much written by MEN – and what the hell do they know - about the bitter single woman that I want to have my say.  And I have a lot to say.  (I have been told I talk too much.) 

Who am I?

I’m a single 38-year-old, child-free woman looking for love…and Love (more on that later).  My friends would describe me as loyal, generous, funny, and kind.  Smart too.  All true.  I’m kinda cute.  I have an alter ego and theme music when she is around (can’t tell you about that until we are tight, sorry).  I love to read and eat. I am romantic.  I could say that I love long walks down the beach but I’d be lying…I have bad knees and bad feet.  I would have to soak and ice myself and that is definitely not romantic. (Plus, Icy Hot does not smell good.) I love to laugh and make others laugh.  I am sort of a “sit-down” comedienne.  I love to dance and sing…only one of which you want me to do in public.  (Take a guess!)  I want to be married and have children, as many as God has in store for me.  I look forward to being a wife and mother. I am successful in my chosen career and expect to contribute to the finances of the household. 

I’ve love, Loved, and been in love.  I’ve been happy.  I’ve been hurt.  My love has been well-received and reciprocated; it has also been thrown in my face.  My heart has been well-tended, treated gently and broken…just like yours.  In fact, I am just like you.

I am you, your sister, your friend, your ex-girlfriend….To see me is to see yourself or some woman you love.  Don’t be afraid!  You don’t have to tell anybody when your toes get stepped on! (smile)

Don’t get me wrong, I AM definitely looking for a man…or looking to be found by one…

Yes, I am but HE is not the topic, I am, so let’s skip that for now.  I’m sure I’ll get back to “him” and his predecessors.

I am opening myself up – being transparent - so who knows what I might actually say once I get started.  Over the course of this adventure, you will get to know me…what I think and how I feel and what I dream and what I hope and what I pray for and what I fantasize about and what makes me tick and what makes me happy and what pisses me off and what makes me sad and what makes me feel guilty and what makes me feel optimistic…

Regardless of my current situation, I AM optimistic. 

Can’t wait to share it all with you.  Hope you stick with me.  If you like it, tell somebody.