Message To My Future Husband - June 26, 2012

Marvin Sapp has a page on FaceBook that I subscribe to and look forward to getting messages from each day.  He has a note that he puts our called “Message to my future” where he writes – obviously – a message to his future.  Mostly, I would say, he is writing to his future wife as his wife recently passed away.  Recently he asked “us” to write a message to our future.  I can’t remember what I wrote but I want to write a short note to my future…husband.

“I love you.  You are the love of my life.  You are worth the wait.  You are worth every tear and every peel of laughter.  Every prayer and plea.  Every song and sacrifice.  Every moment of confusion and every moment of clarity.  Every heartbreak and every triumph.  Every promise broken and kept.  Every hour of grief and every second of joy.  Every step with my head held high or back bent low.  Every move that I have made that has led me to you.

“You are a gift from God.  A gift that he made just for me.  And he made me just for you.  I will spend every day for the rest of my life trying to make every moment you have spent before now worth you waiting for us to be prepared for one another.

“I pray that the God that brought us together will strengthen us every second, minute, hour, day, month, year, decade, and century…til death do us part.  I pray that He keeps and protects you.  I love you and am yours forever.”

On My Toes

Have you ever had somebody not just step on your toes but kick you dead in the mouth with your mess?  Today, for me, that person was Pastor A.T. Jones, Jr. of Impact Worship Center.  Pastor called me out (with love, of course) and made me ask myself some questions and, frankly, I’m not sure if I’m going to like the answers.

Pastor said that there are 3 types of problems that we face: problems from God that are meant to prepare us, problems from others that are meant to provoke us, and problems from ourselves that are meant to prevent us.  Prevent us from receiving God’s promises.  (Ouch.  Get off my toes, please, Pastor.  I think you might just be talking about me and my mess.)

Hmmm…. What promises have I been believing God for?  There are many but you know that I’m believing God for a husband and a family.  (The definition of family is a little “wobbly”.  We’ll see what I’m offered and then I’ll decide if that works for me.)  And I’m believing God for a new and better job.  To be honest, I’m wondering why it’s taking so long. (Sorry God for questioning Your perfect timing.)

I’m wondering if I am in a period of preparation, provocation, or prevention.  Probably all 3.  I don’t do anything half-way.  I’m all in, all the time.

I was talking to my cousin the other day about how sick I am of having my feelings hurt by people that I really invest in.  (Maybe I need to be a little more selective of who I invest in.)  I told her that every time I get hurt I wonder who it is that I hurt.  Who am I getting payback from?  (I’m thinking no one since it’s usually me that gets the boot.  Why no one recognizes how fly I am really confuses me.)  Maybe I am getting prepared.  Or am I doing something to prevent or block my own blessings? 

Well, let’s see… I’ve been mourning over a relationship that wasn’t with a man that wasn’t ever mine, losing time and energy and faith and strength and self-confidence and mental and physical health.  I have allowed grief and anger to consume me when I should have been focusing on how God took him out of my life….instead that clearly he was only in my life for a reason, not intended for a lifetime.  I’ve been suffering some overwhelming self-loathing which is extremely unattractive.  Who wants a woman that doesn’t love herself?  And that’s not even going into how I am NOT diligent about looking for that new and better job that I desire. Damn, I have been a hot mess. Yes, I would say I’ve been in my own way.  (Yes, Pastor, I DO like the taste of your shoe polish.  Kick me in the mouth again so that I might delight in it once more.)

Whatever is going on, I’m feeling confident that all that it will all work out.  I just need to stop and listen.  And obey.  And stop trying to “make” God tell me what I want to hear.  (I have a list of things that I want to respond YES to but He just will NOT ask me to do them.)  But I am going to act as though the things I want are around the corner.  (Or try to with as much confidence as I can!)

I’m not going to plan my spring wedding but I might buy a new dress for my next date. ;-)

Freaks Come Out At Night

When was the last time anybody talked about Bill Bellamy?  It’s been a minute, right?  Well, I watched (some of) a stand-up that he did the other night and I remembered that he was actually a funny brother.  No, he’s not Kevin Hart, but I literally LOL.  I wish I could have laughed my ass off so I could avoid dieting and going to the gym but, alas, that didn’t happen.

A part of his routine was about being a freak.  Trying to figure out where he fit on the freak scale.  He talked about joining in on a sex chat online as “Cat Daddy” who attracted “Miss Kitty” (meow).  His freak “offerings” included pouring hot popcorn butter down her back and letting the kernels fall into her booty and pouring Apple Jack milk down her back and letting the cereal chunks fall in the crack of her booty.  (Cereal chunks in your ass!?!?!?)  Yeah….no.  Not freaky.  Kinda gross.  Definitely not sanitary and hygienic. 

(Do freaks think about hygiene?  Does the fact that I thought about hygiene mean that I am low on the freak scale?  Yes?  Oh.  Well, I DID think about where I was on the freak scale.  I’m not going to tell you what I came up with.  (I’m embarrassed.  LOL!)  But I did come up with some ways to, uh, make “adjustments”.  Will not include cereal and milk though.  I am lactose intolerant.)

None of this will happen any time soon because I’ve decided to attempt celibacy…again.  I’m trying to live right.  It’s easy to say that I’m going to keep it to myself.  It might just be easy since I don’t have any options right now.  (That’s both good and bad.  Who doesn’t WANT options?)  No temptations.  No reason to pull out my tutu and 4 ½” heels.  No reason to come to the door in…. Wait, I’m not talking about all that…unless you have some creative ideas you’d like to share.

It Don't Matter If You're Black or White...Really?

I signed up on www.chemistry.com a few weeks ago.  It’s kind of attached to match.com so my profile transferred then I had to answer a few more questions to develop a “personality profile”.  I’m a Negotiator.  That means I have good people skills and some other stuff.  I can receive that.  There are other personality types but I can’t remember them all.  When they make a match they show how the two personality types would gel.  It’s rather interesting.  I wonder if it’s bullshit but I’m trying to be positive rather than pessimistic.

I went on one date.  I’ll call him Al.  Nice guy.  Cute (of course…we know I’m shallow).  Successful.  Owns his own business.  Must not have like me enough because he hasn’t called me since we went out.  Oh, well.

(Oh!  I went out with someone from match.com, too, before him.  He was nice, too.  Nice looking.  The issue was that he refused to call me.  He wanted to text all the fucking time.  Even though I told him a bunch of times – A BUNCH OF TIMES – that I liked to TALK not text.  Fuck it.  I stopped dealing with him.  I’m 39 years old.  I want a grown A woman relationship.  I want to communicate like a grown A woman. Period. Dot.)

But back to chemistry.com.  What I am finding is that they are matching me with a gaaaannnnnggggg of white dudes.  I mean, more white dudes than black dudes.  Now, I don’t know how I feel about that.  I don’t know about dating white men.  That’s real talk.  My brother is involved with the most wonderful woman he’s ever met in his life.  She’s white and I don’t care.  I don’t see her color.  I see how she treats my brother and his kids….and me.  We’re TIGHT.  I love her like my mama gave birth to her.  So clearly I’m not against interracial relationships. But am I ready to (cue dramatic music) cross the color line?  I don’t know.

I started reading a book “Is Marriage for White People?” (I think I have the title right.)  In the book, the author suggested that black women are the less likely of all to get married and a part of the reason is that we limit ourselves to black men.  We don’t branch out and give other races a chance.  We hold out for that “good black man”, emphasis on the black.  (Or maybe the emphasis is on the MAN.  You know some of us don’t put emphasis on the GOOD.)  Let’s not get into the conversation about all the other requirements we have – like love the Lord, have a job, love his mama, etc.  That will change the subject.

You know black men keep their options open.  They date any and every race, color, and creed.  Enough said.

So, what do I do with all these white men that I’m being matched with?  Do I delete them as soon as I see “white/Caucasian” as their ethnicity?  What about when I see their blue eyes?  Do I look at them the same way I look at brothers?  Hold them to the same – EXACT – requirements as I have for the brothers?  (Now don’t get me wrong, if they don’t have “Black/African American” on their list of “What he’s looking for” in ethnicities, the get deleted immediately.)  Do I contact them or do I wait for them to contact me if they are interested?

Hold up!  I just asked the same thing I would have asked about brothers.  Maybe the situation isn’t so different if I just look at them as men rather than white men.  But can I really do that?  Is being single, holding out for a good black man a reasonable thing to do when there might be an “other” that meets every need and want I have?  Is it possible that some “other” will give me that feeling that I get when I see that brother across the room?  Is it possible that some “other” could actually love ME like I want, need, and deserve to be loved?  Is it possible for some “other” to not see me as black, but just as a woman?

Shit, I’m probably as afraid of being rejected by white men as I am by black men.  Probably don’t want to set myself up for double the rejection and bullshit.

We’ll see…. I’ll keep you posted.  Of course.

Never Satisfied

I’m one of those broads that is never satisfied.  Mostly never satisfied with myself.  Sometimes it’s real and sometimes it is negative self-talk that makes no sense.  I’m honest about my own dishonesty.  I just don’t know it’s bullshit until it’s after the fact. But whatever.

Today I’m not satisfied with my weight.  It’s 6 in one hand, half dozen in the other.  The scale says ugly things about me so I’m just going to stop talking to it for a while.  My gut…Lawd Jeebus, the gut is so out of order that I wouldn’t even let anybody see me nekkid.  (Well…maybe….)  The booty is still proper.  I don’t want to lose too much of that because I want to have enough for folks to look at when I’m walking.  (Yes I do put a little something extra in the walk when a brother is walking behind me.  Give ‘em a little sum’sum to look at.)  Thighs need some work but all I need is a skirt to the knees and a few calf raises and I’ll be just fine from the waist down. 

Skin needs a lot of work.  I was doing sooooo well and then bam!  My skin erupted like violence.  I would be insulting my grandmother if I said I was ugly but Stevie damn sure ain’t singing “Isn’t She Lovely” to my ass right now.  I’ve been wearing makeup every day to make me feel better – look better, feel better – but I need to do something about this shit STAT.

So where is all this self-criticism coming from THIS TIME?  Could be that I’m man-less and I think that nobody is going to want a fat, pimply broad.  Could be that I went out on a date and he never called me again.  Could be that I’m looking dead at turning 40 and I’m sick of dealing with the same shit over and over.  Could be that I’m a shallow bitch.  Could be that I don’t FEEL good about how I look.  Could be that I know that if I don’t like the way I look I won’t really be as confident in myself as I should be.   Insecurity is about as sexy as bitterness.  As in NOT sexy.

Truth is, I am dabomb.com.  If you don’t believe me, ask my friends.  I’m surrounded by people that affirm me.  I am LOVED and respected.  I have people that lift me up, tell me that I’m wonderful, and make me feel good about myself.  They give me energy when I’m running on fumes.  They encourage me.  They motivate me.  They kick my ass.  They leave me alone when I need “me” time.  They tell me what I need to hear…and sometimes, what I want to hear (sometimes it’s okay to lie). They love me when I don’t love myself. 

Hell, I need to call somebody right now and hear something good about myself.

Do It For Free

I’m in a really weird place right now and even getting my love life right probably won’t get me “right”.  But I’m okay with that because where I am is about my LIFE…my whole life…not just some negroes that may or may not come and STAY, may or may not treat me as I deserve, may or may not be deserving of all that I tend to do for a man (read: too much sometimes), may or may not…hell, just may or may not.  Can’t even give that the kind of emphasis that I’ve been giving it…not right this second.

See, what I’ve been dealing with is what am I doing with my life.  I’m serious.  I’m 39, single, no kids – no real prospects (LA dude is as cute as he looked on his profile pics and we’re going out again but I’m not putting him on the “prospects” list yet) – working in Corporate America but not in the position that makes my toes curl.  I’m definitely not doing anything I’d do for free.  (I don’t work for my company; I work for money.)

What I really want to know is: What would I do for free?

What do I really love to do?  Well, I love to read, sleep, eat, and write.  I love to dance (jam, not ballet, jazz, tap, etc….don’t laugh as you try and visualize that, please.  It’s bad for my self-esteem.)  Clearly nobody is interested in my sleeping, eating, and dancing but maybe my reading or writing…or reading and writing?  I’ve gotten a lot of “you should write a book” suggestions that I’ve laughed off with “about what?”  because seriously…about what? 

How to be getting old and single and love it?  Well, I don’t exactly love it.  I’m not angry and bitter but I’d change it in a heartbeat if I was found by my God-chosen mate.

How to be celibate while you wait for your God-chosen mate?  Well, uh, um, you see…what had happened was, I fell off the wagon when…  So, no, that is not a good topic.

How to come to grips with the fact I may not have children?  See “old, single, and loving it”…would change this situation in a heartbeat if it was right.

How people want to hook you up with people they KNOW better than to suggest?  I’m single, not desperate.  Or blind.  Enough said.

How to get over with meeting the man you think could be “the one” and having him disappear into thin air?  How who you think could possibly be your soul mate definitely will not be your life mate?  Truth #1: has happened.  Truth #2: I’d be making up “how to get over” if the end result is “and come out healed and whole” if I tried to write it any time soon.  Or I’d be typing up every piece of advice I’ve been given on how to get over it.  (I’d leave off “the best way to get over one man is to get under another one.”)

How the “Real Housewives of [Random City]” make women look bad?  Specifically How the “Real Housewives of Atlanta” make Black women look bad?  Actually, I’m sure I could get a couple of pages out of that because, good Lord, those broads are ignorant as hell and are hard to watch…but I do it because I am tacky like that.  Speaking of tacky, maybe I can add how the broads on Maury make us look bad.  Housewives + Maury…YES!  Tacky bitches make for good, uh, literature.  I might be on to something…

To be honest, I have been “writing” books in my head for years…fiction, of course…so maybe I’ll put some ink to the paper.  Why not.  It’s not like I have a shortage of material just from my own life.  But now that I’ve brought my favorite TV show up, one character has to be a baby mama with 7 potential baby daddies.

Chemistry

I just read on a blog about the 20^th anniversary of the author’s first date with her husband.  Her memory is GOOD!  Of course I went “awww” because that is what punks do.  She made me think about my dates with some dudes I’ve gone out with and I realized that some of them didn’t really feel like “dates”.

When I was growing up, a date – to me anyway – meant that the dude picked you up.  You know, drove his mama’s car to your house, rang the doorbell, said hi to your parents if they were in the living room (you know that is the only room he could go in), and escorted you to the car.  No, it wasn’t romantic; it was just polite.  But in this day and age, we’re so afraid to let men know the location of the secret bat cave to make sure he can’t find you if you decide you don’t like him (just me?) that we miss out on the “get out the car, ring the doorbell, he drives, walks you to your door and leaves” part of dating.  I miss that.  Something about meeting a guy somewhere takes 0.5 points off the date score…unless he’s scary and then it is a positive.  Opening doors and helping you in and out of the car adds at least 2 points.  And walking to the door really, really adds some points.  How else can you get that good night kiss?  (But what if there is no chemistry and he tries to kiss you? Well, you can fake a sneeze or something….)

You know almost from day one if you will have “that kind” of chemistry with the dude, right?

·        Dude brings you flowers and, though you are appreciative, you are sitting here thinking “not going to happen”.  Straight-to-the-friend-zone chemistry.

·        You are sitting next to the dude and after about 30 minutes you want to lace your fingers through his…and after a week you feel like it’s okay to lay on his chest in the movies.  (Shut up, I didn’t molest him.  We just both like to cuddle.)  Are-you-sure-we-just-met chemistry.

·        You want to slap the black of dude after about 22 minutes because by then he had already asked you when the last time you’d been on a date and pointed out the acne on your chest…and you wanted to mention the missing tooth he had…but didn’t because you were raised right.  STFU-because-you-about-to-get-shanked chemistry.

·        Dude asks you for a second hug just because and you think “you can have anything you want”.  (Get your mind right.  I’m not that fast!!)  Ooooh-this-might-be-good chemistry.

·        When you kiss him your mind goes blank…after you think “why did you do that to me?  You ain’t right.”  Steam-the-polish-right-off-your-toes chemistry.

·        He hands you the check as he reminds you that he took you out the last time.  Oh-no-you-didn’t chemistry.

·        You have to ask him if you can pick up the check because you’re afraid he will slap your hand off if you reached for the folder.  I-know-you’re-the-man-but-I-want-to-treat-you-sometimes chemistry.

·        You have to remember your home training because you just want to touch him at all times.  (His HANDS!)  You-know-you-need-to-stop chemistry.

·        Your first phone conversation is 3 hours long and you think you’re going to Love him…and 2 years later you still do….And many years later you still love (small L) him. My-first-but-not-last-love chemistry.

·        He spoons with you in the bed (fully clothed) and wraps you tight and you feel safe and you think “if you move I’ll kill you”.  Comfortable-because-I-trust-you-completely chemistry and you’re-a-man-among-boys chemistry.

Chemistry cannot be ignored…positive or negative.  Chemistry can grow and fade; that is why it is essential to pay attention every day for how you are feeling about someone you’re dating.  Your gut doesn’t lie.  My therapist once told me that if you don’t want to see a man nekkid, you might as well cut him now. Sounds harsh but it’s the truth, right?