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The Possibility of Us . . .

In my 20’s, I used to make playlists for everything.  Even before the Great Spotify, I needed a soundtrack for whatever my life was at that moment.  They all had super emo names, like “The Living Struggle,”  or “Why do I still Love Him?” etc. It was my way of singing out my problems.  It was a good catharsis for me.  I could instantly go to the song I needed to hear, sing and cry on my porch or balcony, write 7 blogs, send 3 or 4 passive-aggressive emails or texts, and I could move on with life.

In my 30’s, the loss of music has let me know I’m going through something.  When I would rather listen to NPR in car, or Old Podcasts I’ve listened to 1000 times, I know I’m due to have some sort of emotional breakdown.  Living with Depression has taught me everything isn’t sadness.  It isn’t “OMG my life falling apart,” it’s instead I have something I need to.  I have to find the music again.  Find the song, or the playlist, or the lyric that is going to express EXACTLY where I am.  I’ve gotten to the point where I am too busy with everyday life to wallow in my emotions.

That’s probably a good thing, especially for my friends who have been with me through my adult life so far. Because I KNOW they were tired of all the emo ass texts, and phone calls crying over the same person, or the same situation, or some conversation over and over again.  I’m trying to be a better friend.  My last relationship ended just as it began, with little to no fanfare.  No one knew it was over, it just was. That’s the adult way to do it, right? However, tonight, while driving home from my last tutoring session, a random Spotify Playlist lead me all up in my feelings.

I Present to you: Selections from The Possibility of Us.

Poision & Wine – The Civil Wars

I miss MM.  I’ve accepted the fact I miss the intimacy we had.  I can acknowledge that it was unhealthy to a great extent, but also wish I was that naive again.  I trusted every word that came out of his mouth.  I gave every single part of me, gladly, and without Fear.  I’m so cynical and untrusting these days.  I cut people off when I feel they are about to hit me with a bullshit excuse.  I don’t have faith in anyone except my inner circle.  I expect people to lie, and be unfaithful, and bad.  I long for the girl I was when I fell in love with MM.

Stay – Sugarland

I’ll never be a Side Chick again. It’s not because of something stupid, like morals or whatever. It’s because I’m over the bullshit.  The conversations that used to woo me into that position no longer hold the same weight.  I don’t need you to tell me, “I can’t talk to my wife/girlfriend/lover the way I can talk to you,” in order to feel special.  I don’t need the ego stroke anymore.  Maybe i’ve grown up, or maybe it’s that cynicism.  I’ve come to realize, every Man/Woman has a choice.  You can control yourself.  You can get a divorce. You can break up with your partner. Just like you choose to not be honest with your significant other, I can choose to tell you that you are full of shit, and need to put on your big boy boxers and handle your business.  You aren’t staying for the kids, you are staying for you.  Until you are important enough to you, get the fcuk outta here.

One Day You Will – Deborah Cox

I’m still looking for the connection I had with TBTLNY.  No one has ever given me that same feeling, which means everyone eventually disappoints me.  {This is probably means I’m continually setting myself up for failure, but you know, whatevs} Which is kind of stupid, since clearly I’m not with him right now. It was a teenage love, but it was STRONG. I would have climbed mountains, and swam oceans, and ran marathons to keep that love in my life.  That feeling, it’s a high I’ve been seeking out since I got the first taste. My life’s addiction is that high.  I can admit that to myself, and even understand how unhealthy that is.  Craving an emotional connection with someone is just as harmful as a drug addiction, because it could lead to putting yourself in dangerous situations.

I Won’t Give Up (Demo Version) – Jason Mraz

I wish I believed in Love like this again.  Even if I go out searching for it, I don’t believe I will actually find it.  Which is kind of sad right? But it’s the truth.  To be able to say to someone, “I’m not going to quit.  I’m going to love you enough, to work on this.  To grow with you, no away from you.” It requires a certain level of vulnerability and openness, and a trust that I don’t have. And I WISH I had it.  I wish I was that Girl who sat on the phone talking to TBTLYN for 12 hours.  I wish was the Girl who made a mixtape for MM because I couldn’t find an easy way to say I loved him.  I wish I was the Girl who smiled at text messages from my current crush.

I’m Not Anymore.

And I really don’t even know what that makes me? Who am I now? My Love of Love kind of defined me for a while.  I hate romantic comedies, because they are so unrealistic. I used to swear that Carrie Bradshaw was my Love Guru, she was an Idiot.  Big was an asshole! I used to read Trashy Romance Novels in one sitting, I don’t even buy them anymore. Maybe my heart’s been broken too many times, maybe I just need a break from love.  Fuck if I know.

I bask in other people’s relationships.  I’m happy for their love.  I’m not like a Love Hater. I see beautiful relationships all around me, and I’m so pleased for my friends.  I’m equally content with my current busy life/schedule. I’m just . . . . trying to figure myself out now.

The Story of My Life . . . or Holy Shyt! I’m 32

*Editor’s Note: I started this blog in January.  Actually finished it, then never published it.  I know why now.*

Every year, I TRY to post a blog about what I’ve learned over that previous year.  With my Birthday being so close to the New Year, it’s usually just my yearly recap as well.  This time, I’m going to do it a little bit differently.  After another one of my “I haven’t gotten any sleep in the last 48 hours” Epiphanies, I realized that I can actually pinpoint the times my life took a direction I wasn’t expecting.  The first 17 years of my life aren’t going to be discussed here . . . mostly because I’m lazy.

All Denim Outfit . . .No One Loved me.

All Denim Outfit . . .No One Loved me.

The University of Dayton

No, we start with my first step into adulthood.  The moment I decided I was GROWN! I stood at the West Bloomfield post office, mailed that acceptance letter, and that was all she wrote! I was going to be the female Bill Gates, and change the world of computers.  *Mind you, I didn’t visit the school, didn’t know what it looked like, they just gave me the most money. So they won.* But I MUST admit, best decision I’ve ever made. The friends I made there, the people I met, the experiences I had . . . wouldn’t have had it any other way.  University of Dayton lead me to Zeta, and my Degree in Education (more on that later), my closest friends, love, hurt, fear, anger, and most importantly – Understanding of Myself.  On May 3, 2003, I graduated knowing EXACTLY who I wanted to be.

13 Years Ago . . .

14 Years Ago . . .

Zeta Phi Beta Sorority, Inc.

It SHOULD be common knowledge that Zeta Phi Beta Sorority, Inc. is the Greatest Sorority in the Nation.  But if you didn’t know, now you know, sucka! I joined ZPhiB because I wanted to be the kind of woman ZPhiB represented.  What I didn’t expect, could have never imagined, was the Family.  The Women I call Sister, not just Soror. The two women who grew up right beside me.  Who dealt with my Sophomore Year Depression, who dried my tears, and had numerous sleepovers with me.  The Women who taught me how to create a Programme, and put on a Dove Ball, and STEP.

Ryders of the Storm

Ryders of the Storm

Phi Beta Sigma Fraternity, Inc.

Even more unexpected (and judge this next statement if you want) The Men I Call Brother. R.O.T.S changed my life. Not just because LeRoy was the scariest dude I had ever met in my life, but because they PROTECTED us.  From Greek Life Bullshit, and everyday Bullshit.  They knew how Naive we were, and they shielded us from so much more than we ever knew.  The Blu Bond is so sacred to me, and is still very much prevalent in my life. What I’ve learned, and cherished the most in these 14 years, is that Family can come out of nowhere.  These 3 Men, will forever be referred to as my Brothers, not my Frat.

2nd Best Kitchen I've Ever Had

2nd Best Kitchen I’ve Ever Had

My First Apartment

Having my own place was so freeing! I FINALLY had my own space.  I didn’t have to fear my mom randomly knocking on my door. You mean I can have HOUSE PARTIES. Kait and I entered in that adventure with the best of intentions.  We were going to be the only Best Friends that moved in together and didn’t hate each other.  The Road to Hell is paved with Good Intentions… The loss of that Friendship shook me to my core.  Not because I had known her forever, or because it was unexpected. But I saw that for the first time Money and Friends should NEVER mix.  We weren’t fighting over anything emotional, it was about her breaking her lease. *To move in with the man she eventually married but still…* Add to that, I spent 3 months without a JOB! As my support system from age 13 to 24 was leaving me high and dry rent wise, I had no idea what I was going to do.  Moving home wasn’t an option. So I began to hustle.  I had 3 part time jobs, 2 that were under the table (gotta collect that unemployment), and I babysat whenever I could.  I learned then, I’ll never be unemployed.  Because the Hustle is STRONG within me. I worked my way out of that rut, got a porn star roommate – no really, she did Porn – and Lived It The Fcuk Up.

These Two Ladies Saved My Life . . .

These Two Ladies Saved My Life . . .

The Triad

Words can’t even . . . The Triad is the Polyamorous Relationship everyone wish they had.  These two Women showed me what Friendship is supposed to be.  No Judgements, No Fear, No Regrets.  You live your life, you learn from the pain, and You Move On.  Diamond and Aaliyah were my anchors in the storm that was my early to mid 20’s. We Drank, (they) Smoked, and we Loved HARD. The nights/weekends/days we spent laying on someone’s floor crying and bitching about Men and Women! The Ex’s that we still talk to, the tradition of emailing each other all day, the Wearing White in public the day after Labor Day.

The children, and road-trips, and music that happened from 2005-2007. I don’t even talk to them every month. Doesn’t matter, the minute we are on the phone it’s like nothing has ever changed.  I’m my true self with them.  Not the woman I wanted to be post Graduation, but somehow better. Nothing seemed out of reach, everything was a great idea.  If later I found out it wasn’t, didn’t matter. We Laugh/Drink/Cry about, and Move The Fuck On.

To See a Mountain is to See God

To See a Mountain is to See God

Moving to AZ

And I did . . .right to Arizona.  With intentions of going back to school, and getting my teaching certification.  I was gonna fix my relationship with my Dad, so I could finally get rid of those Daddy Issues, and find love . . . Arizona started out as a peaceful place to me.   Instead of teaching children, I found a job teaching Teachers how to teach Children. I found my professional voice in AZ. In Michigan, I’m surrounded by family and friends who discount my knowledge of children because I don’t have any of my own. In Arizona, people assumed I was an expert. Took a little while to realize I actually kind of am. My love for children was confirmed there.  My life path was made certain.  Arizona was everything I didn’t know I wanted.

Just when I thought it couldn’t get any better, I thought I had also found the man I was going to spend the rest of my life with.

 

The Mexican

me and eric

Loving you is the best thing that ever happened to me.  It’s also the worst.  You changed me, turned me into a person I didn’t even know I could be, or wanted to be.  The last thing you said to me, in anger, was “You are just a faint memory. I’ve almost forgotten you existed.”  Even with that much hate in your voice, I remembered when it was beautiful.  When the love I saw in your eyes made every day worth living.  If I never see your face, and never hear your voice again, I Loved You.   In a way I had only read about in romance novels and Donny Hathaway songs.  For everything losing you took away, it gave me twice as much.  So for that, I saw Thank You. For showing me who my true friends are, and because you helped me stop hiding behind my weight. You were Loved Sir.

When I think of Home

My Mommy and Me

My Mommy and Me

I left AZ because I was devastated and I couldn’t be there.  Up until the point, the House I Bought was the Reason He Wasn’t There. Everything about my house reminded me of a loss I still can’t began to describe.  Emotionally, I was a 17 year old girl who had lost her 1st Love. I needed my Mommy.  I’m okay with admitting that.  I needed a break from those last 18 months.  My Mother Saved Me. I’m just glad I was Woman enough to admit I needed to be Saved. What I didn’t know is that I had been in a Domestic Violence relationship, and I needed to understand and forgive myself for letting it happen in the first place.

The Job I got once I moved back to Michigan healed me. I took the job thinking it would be just another opportunity to help children.  I was part of a team that worked everyday to save lives.  We worded to heal people who have been hurt/violated by people they love. We educate women (and men) about Domestic Violence and Sexual Assault.  My clients, these brave and frustrating women taught me so much about how Trauma follows you your whole life if you don’t address it. My job taught me Accountability.  Owning up to the choices I’ve made in my life and their impact on me and others. My co-workers brought back my happy. In the completely emotionally damaged world we work, I smiled more than I cried. I looked forward to seeing them, and hopefully they felt the same about me.  We are a Strange Group of People, those of us who choose to do Social work, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I have to take a second to shoutout TIITC.  Never shall he be named, but he helped me realize that not all men are assholes.  He found me beautiful at my ugliest, and he let me cry on his couch when my Nephew died.  I wouldn’t have made it without him.  Thanks TIITC, you are loved as well 🙂

Finally, MJ has come BACK to 3013!

Finally, MJ has come BACK to 3013!

Which leads me back . . . to Arizona. Somewhere in the 4 years I lived there, it became Home.  I felt displaced in Michigan. I didn’t have my own space, I couldn’t live the life I wanted there.  I now crave warm weather, and mountains. I want two dogs in my backyard and Sundays at Mt. Lemmon.  I want Holiday dinners at 4 different houses with at least 3 different cultures represented.  I want to be called Aunt Marisa and ‘ARisa and Mz. Joy by children playing in my front yard. It’s time for me to stop licking healed wounds.  I’m finally stronger than that Pain. I leave you with an Eminem Lyric that perfectly illustrates my current mindset…

 But you won’t break me, You’ll just make me,

Stronger than I was, Before I met you

 I bet you I’ll be just fine without you

And if I stumble, I won’t crumble

I’ll get back up and I….

And I’mma still be humble, When I scream fuck you

Cause I’m stronger than I was – Marshall Mathers

 

…And I Still, Haven’t Found, What I’m Looking For…

I love that song.  It’s something I play when I am going through a White Girl Angst type moment.  The message is, I’m still searching.  Even after everything I have been through, I’m still looking for that one thing to make every thing make sense.  Today’s blog is inspired by a late night convo with a frat brother of mine, and his requirements for his next relationship.  

The word he kept repeating over and over was Friend. “I want someone who wants to be friends first, then we can move on to something else.”  This statement prompted several very probing questions on my end {Yes, I’m Nosy} and made me think about Relationship Expectations from a Male Point of View.

I’ve already talked about Lowered Expectations vs. Having Standards when it comes to women looking for their perfect mate.  I hope by now, anyone reading my blog understands I don’t believe the perfect relationship exists. You can BUILD the perfect relationship for the TWO people involved, but you almost never just fall into something perfect for you.  In accepting this, you are committing to work to create the Perfect Relationship for You. If that commitment isn’t honored the relationship usually falls apart.

Some of the reasons relationships fall apart over time are listed here, here, and here. {Please peruse at your leisure} However,  those aren’t the only reasons some relationships don’t work out.  It’s mainly lack of communication and/or insecurities.  This comes from both sides.  Most times, women have a VERY specific and detailed idea of what they want in a significant other, & they aren’t afraid to tell anyone who will listen . . . except their partner.  On the other hand, men have absolutely no idea what they want, until they have to sit down and figure it out.

I’ve found that most of my male friends aren’t vocal about what they want, what bothers them, what turns them on, their pet peeves . . . things that most women would benefit from knowing at the start of a relationship.  Insecurities will cause people to be silent in their relationship because they don’t want to say the wrong thing, or ask for the wrong thing, or make it seem like they are complaining.

So it’s time to call out the men, who know what they want . .. but don’t tell us.

First Up: What Defines a Friend

According to Merriam-Websters Dictionary, a friend is:

friend

: a person who you like and enjoy being with

: a person who helps or supports someone or something (such as a cause or charity)

How do you feel about that definition men? This could be the beginning of a good relationship.  Someone supportive and you enjoy being with.  Quite simple, but then you stick your wiener in them, and everything’s different.  That’s when the questions happen, at least on her part. Things come up in conversation like, ” How far does this friendship go? or “Are we still friends if we’re sleeping with each other? or “Are we still just friends if I know your whole family?” or ” Are we still just friends if we indulge in PDA on a regular basis?”

Sex complicates things.  It always has, it always will.  If you are looking for a friend, why do you complain about being friend-zoned by a girl you like?  Instead of taking it as a bad thing, why isn’t it looked at as a way to slow it down and take baby steps into something different? *At this point, it might be a good time to say this is a Blog for the Grown and Sexy.  This isn’t being written for people 25 and younger.  You still have some Heauxin’ to do.  You go and get your Heaux on, and come back in a few years.  This will all make sense to you then.*

Once you have established this friendship, and basked in it for some length of time that probably makes no sense to her, at what point does the friendship turn into a relationship? Women thrive on the definitive.  We need to know when, what, who, where, and why.  Being vague about the timeline is stressful for some of us.  If it’s not defined, it doesn’t exist.  

It’s not because we want to trap you into something.  In most cases, it’s because we want to behave accordingly.  This is where communication and/or insecurity come into play.  The woman who has to ask a man what they are, will forever question the solidity of her relationship.  Doesn’t matter how much you try to reassure her, that first doubt will always there underneath her skin.  

The Friendship ——–> Relationship Continuum

Introduction —->Basic Knowledge —-> Shared Interests —-> {Possible Group Outing} —-> Frequent Communication —-> Private Outing —-> Daily Communication —-> Dating —-> Declaration or Request of Monogamy —-> Declaration of Commitment —> Relationship.

If at any point during the completion of this continuum, you feel as though this person isn’t going to meet your needs, STOP TALKING TO THEM. It’s not fair to you or her to continue down this path, and one of you knows it’s not going to be forever.  A large number of Bitter Women are bitter because this happened to them.  They started planning for forever, and you (the Man) had already decided this was just going to be for right now. . .without letting them know something wasn’t quite right.  It’s just unfair guys, stop it.

Also, the current prevalence of Social Media brings even more questions a woman will have for you, on officially establishing/announcing your relationship to the world. These questions include (but are not limited to) “Are we still just friends if we post pictures of things that we have done together?” and “Are we still just friends if we subtweet each other every night?” and “Are we still friends if your friends have tagged me in pictures they took of us together?” Social Media is just like Sex, it complicates everything

So What Are You Looking For?

Let’s look at the TYPES of women,  men seem to be looking for {in my experience}.  I  created a very satirical version of this, but some of it was based in truth.  From what I have observed, there are 4 types of women that men seem to be looking for these days.

1) Professional/Educated Woman

Pros: This is the kind of woman who has a Career, not a job.  It doesn’t really matter who she works for, it’s more the fact that she works.  She isn’t depending on anyone to support her and/or her children. This woman usually has a higher education, and maybe even an advanced degree. She is book smart and able to hold a conversation with a group of mixed background without a struggle.

Cons: She is career-oriented.  She has a goal, and has already created her plan in which to acheive it.  Your entrance in her life is a surprise, and not something she was looking for.  This could mean your relationship is more than likely to come second.  Also, if she does have children, then your relationship is going to come in 3rd Place.

There are many men who can’t handle being in 3rd Place.  And if that’s a problem for them, they should vocalize it.  Not liking your standing in a woman’s life breeds resentment and bitterness.  This could lead to cheating in some shape or form.

2) Classy/Twitter/Instagram Heaux

Pros: She is gorgeous. She fits all the Black Twitter Criteria for #WouldYouPullOutOrNah. The proportions are exact, and her hair is always done.  She is the epitome of FAHN.  She has all the right outfits, and knows all the right people.  She has 3,000 plus followers who validate her beauty everyday.  Every person you know wants her, and those who don’t want her are just jealous.  Plus, she will make beautiful babies for you one day.

Cons: She has never had to work hard a day in her life.  She is used to being catered to.  She gets off on attention.  Usually, she is bringing nothing to the table that will enhance the relationship.  In fact, it’s probably not a relationship.  It’s more of a dalliance into her world, and have to be okay with that.

At some point, you won’t be able to provide the level of attention she needs (in any way/shape/form), and the interaction will fade.

3) Mother Material

Pros: She is quite sensible.  She was raised the right way.  She wants to bring forth life on this earth, and nurture the next generation of children who will change the world.  She is soft in nature, and makes choices that show you she is looking into the future.  She understands what’s important in life, and wants to impart that  wisdom to her seed.

Cons: Sexually, she might become conservative.  Once she has a child, she might look at herself as someone’s  mother, not your lover.  She might become more old-fashioned in her views.  Her main focus will be the children, and their activities/well-being. Her concerns are now fitting into a specific peer group, and the latest PTA Potluck.  The sexual side of her may diminish over time.

A lot of this depends on what HER definition of what a mother is, and should look like.  These potential issues could all be avoided through communication.  Before you impregnate her, make sure she is the kind of mother you want for your child. Ask questions, until you get the answers you are looking for.

4) Homie/Lover/Friend

A Homie-lover-friend, is what I’m looking for
She can relate to my sex drive,
Cuffing her booty while we dance, and she don’t mind.

She’s got everything, that a man could ever want and more,
And her sexy gangsta way, she’s got me all up in a day
Homie-Lover-Friend is what I need for always.

Pros: She’s down to earth.  You can talk about anything without feeling awkward.  She understands what you need/want/desire almost before you know you need it.  She’s probably freakier than you, and isn’t afraid to share that side of herself with you, when the time is right.  She knows exactly what needs to happen to make the relationship work.  She’s an ‘Around The Way Girl,’ the Girl Next Door, your Play-Cousin from up the street.

Cons: Because she is so down to earth, you have never really looked at her THAT way.  You fell like you know way too much about her, and the choices she’s made in her life.  IT would kind of be like dating your sister.

It’s my opinion that underneath every relationship that has weathered various storms, the friendship has been a lasting one.  When you’re mad about the toilet seat being left up, or they ate the last piece of bacon, you don’t stay mad for long. This is also the person who see’s a pineapple and laughs because it’s just a weird ass fruit. This is the person who knows all your secrets, and can still look you in the eye at the end of the day.

Which One do You Want? Better yet, which one do you need? Or even, Which one do you have in your life right now? If you can’t be honest with yourself about what you’re looking for, how can she trust you when you say you are ready for a relationship? Are you even ready for a lasting friendship?

I Just Ask the Questions . . . it’s up to you to know the answers. As Always, Thanks for Reading! Comments/Thoughts/Answers Welcomed.

SideChicks: Picking up the Pieces when you stop doing YOUR job . . .

*Editor’s Note: This Blog is going to piss you off.  Just stop reading now.  If you keep reading, it’s your own fault if you feel some kind of way at the end.  I’m not even writing this to piss you off.  I’m writing it to tell MY understanding of SideChick Subculture. It’s better you read you this now, than get a SideChick Declaration of Ownership text message someday.  I’m just trying to help.*

Four Years ago, I wrote about my own experiences as a Side Chick. It’s a good read before you view the rest of this, as my attitude as been altered a little bit by life. Please understand this . . . I’m over SideChick Slander.  Not because I take it personally, but because it’s dumb.  We Slut Shame the SideChick but hail the man as a Pimp/Player/Boss/SexGod. With all the SideChicks who seem to be PROSPERING right now, I think it’s time to look at why.  But First, a Mini-Rant about #BlackTwitter and Scandal.

Scandal is one of the greatest written shows on TV right now.  And the Main Character is a Side Chick. The Presidential Side Chick! She has a job, friends, and a life.  She just happened to fall in love with the soon to be elected Leader of the Free World.  But according to #BlackTwitter, we have to hate her based SOLELY on her SideChick status.  Supposedly, she is breaking up a home, and ruining lives.  Which is a GOT DAMN LIE! Fitz don’t Love Mellie.  He ain’t neeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeva gonna love Mellie.  But every Thursday, my TL is full of people (mainly men) bashing women for caring about Olivia’s emotions and thoughts.  For sympathizing with her in her daily struggle to let that Presidential Love go.  STOP IT! They will deal with the consequences of their relationship and be judged by whatever Higher Power their characters worship.  

Back to my original point . . . either I attract the shadiest females/males known to man into my circle, or y’all are some delusional ass people. SideChicks STAY winning.  Stop lying to everyone else on your timeline, and maybe even to yourself.  People cheat every damn day.  SideChicks become Step-Mothers every damn day.  Married Men step out of their house into the arms of another woman every damn day. And they gives not a FUCK about anyone’s feelings.

I’ve never hidden the fact I played that role once or twice in my life.  It wasn’t always on purpose, but it is a title I have held.  What I have hidden, and for good reason, is the amount of times I’ve chosen NOT to play that role.  I’ve been ASKED to be the SideChick more times than I would actually like to count. (7) For every person I’ve turned down, I’ve been asked again.  I’ve been propositioned by people I see on a regular basis, and their significant others have no damn clue. Ya’ll are living in a fantasy world where your man/woman is the most faithful person in the world.  Stop Lying to yourself. I’ll Help You.

1) Why Did I Get Married?

That’s not just a Tyler Perry Movie.  That’s a question you need to ask yourself.  If the answer to the question isn’t because I know this man/woman wants to look at my ashy ass every day, chances are someone in your relationship isn’t happy.  When you said I Do, did you listen to all the Vows? The Love Honor and Obey everyone hears.  Did you pay attention to that Honesty thing though.

A large portion of my male friends from High School/College are married or in serious relationships and have been for years.  Wanna know why 90% of them got married?  Because they felt like they had kept her waiting long enough. {Yeah, they admit that kind of stuff to me, probably because I’m the only person who actually asked.}  People get married for every reason under the sun other than Love.  Love ain’t got nothin’ to do with a better credit score, or a place to live, or them kids that need to be in daycare you can’t afford alone.  Men aren’t the only people who get married for all the wrong reasons. Women do it ALL the time.  The need for security, or at least the illusion of security is real out here in these streets.

This isn’t to say there aren’t any relationships based solely on the love and devotion of two people, but Keep It Real. People who go into a relationship with Rose Colored Glasses, will get those colored lenses broken. {This refers to having an unrealistic expectation of what Marriage/Committed Relationship are actually about}  It might take a few years, but one day you will wake up . . . and you won’t remember why you were in your relationship in the first place. When starting a relationship, we try to put our best foot forward.  Show the best image of ourselves.  We might even try to stay on the straight and narrow path, and ignore our previous patterns of behavior.  But if you are in a relationship with someone and have to hide any part of yourself, that person is NOT for you.  But you know who will accept all your flaws . . . The SideChick.

The SideChick doesn’t CARE that you were a heaux in college. {She might have been too} The SideChick doesn’t care that you have kinky sex fantasies.  The SideChick listens to you complain about your wife that never cooks, and quietly cooks you a meal.  The SideChick picks up her phone every time you call, and makes sure she is ready when you come over. The SideChick doesn’t ask you for money to get her hair done, and she doesn’t usually want anything but your attention.  The SideChick is everything your wife of 5+ years isn’t anymore.  THAT’S why The SideChick is still out here winning.  Because as long as your Wife/Girlfriend/Fiance/Baby Momma is off HER game, she will be on her’s.

2) But Can You Whistle

Place two women side by side.  They have the same exact educational background and general knowledge.  The are similar in build and facial structure.  One can Whistle, the other can not.  Most men will choose the Whistler, because she has a little something extra.  The SideChick is a Whistler.  Her ability to whistle isn’t the sole reason she is usually placed in the SideChick role, but it doesn’t hurt her in any way.  Men usually want to have the best of the best.  They want to have something no one else has –  be it a car, or a house, or a woman.  If the opportunity arises, the SideChick will whistle alllllll around your man if you let her. Examples of SideChick Whistling:

  • Ability to Orally please your man (If you won’t do it, he will find someone who will)
  • Similar opinions regarding sexual freedom (If he can TALK to her about doing it, he will do it with her)
  • Her culinary prowess is unmatched (The quickest way to a man’s heart is the lower half of his body. . . )
  • Silence is Golden (What Happens in Vegas Stays in Vegas)

In this brave new world of Female Sexual Freedom, Whistler’s are EVERYWHERE. The way to deal with this SideChick influx is to FIGHT BACK! Learn a new skill.  Find out who your man is, BEFORE he tells you while he’s over the SideChicks crib.  Talk to your man about his needs. If they don’t fit you, then move on.  But if you are adaptable, adapt.  Cuz SideChicks are the most pliable, malleable, adaptable individuals on God’s Green Earth.

3) Game Recognize Game (Social Networking)

Facebook Messenger and Twitter DM have ruined a MYRIAD of relationship.  I watch it happen everyday.  Guy says something sexual. Girl comments/retweets. Witty TL Banter ensues . . . then they both disappear from the TL/Newsfeed.  It. Has. Begun.  The SideChick will NEVER blatantly approach your man. He will make the first move. The minute he drops those 10 digits (Remember when saying 7 digits was sufficient) and they have that initial, ‘You know I been feeling you, but you got a girl tho . . .‘ conversation, the SideChick has won.

If we have learned nothing else from Kwame, Carlos Danger, Dwyane, and Swizz . . . it’s that men will say ANYTHING to the woman who will listen.  A man will sit at work and text the SideChick all day long. Between meetings, on trips to the bathroom, doesn’t really matter.  He wants attention, and the SideChick is going to give it to him . . . Point. Blank. Period.

It’s also important to know . . . The seasoned SideChick isn’t trying to get caught.  She knows it’s much more stress to have to fight a woman in the street about her man than be a Freak in his Bed.  The seasoned SideChick has an app on her phone that hides messages from certain people, and tells your man about it.  The seasoned SideChick actually has a Google Voice number so that your man doesn’t know her number.  What people fail to understand is that some people choose SideChickery {read: The Act of SideChicking} as their main source of relational interaction.  The reasons behind this are actually irrelevant.  This is a lifestyle, NOT a pastime.

4) Why are you Caping for SideChicks and not calling out men?

If you’ve gotten this far in my blog, and think I’m caping for SideChicks, then you have missed the point.  I’m not making excuses, I’m explaining common behavioral patterns.  I’m trying to put all women up on the game.  Lack of Knowledge = Failure to Succeed.  You might have been raised to be a certain kind of person, and your Man/Husband/Fiance/Baby’s Father might have been raised to seek out and marry that EXACT type of person.  That doesn’t mean people’s needs can’t change and the eye can’t wander.  The Cheating Man is an asshole. So is the SideChick.  Most people are assholes though.

Even after my travels to the Land of SideChickery, I believe in Love.  I believe that Two People can come together, and create a lasting bond that satisfies all their needs.  I believe this because I had for a brief time myself.  I know people who live this kind of life everyday.  Millions of men are tempted to cheat every day, and DON’T. The kind of relationships I’ve just described were achieved by honesty and communication.  If a man can’t be honest and communicate {without fear of judgement} with his mate, he will eventually attempt to find someone who affords him that option. The same can be said for women.  I really just thought someone should share their intimate knowledge of the SideChick Subculture with the masses.

Thoughts?

Feelings are NOT Facts . . .

It’s that thing when you have so much you need to say, and you can’t think of a clever way to say it.  I try to make my blogs cute and funny, but also reflective fo my current or past struggles.  Sadly, I’m in a place right now when I FEEL like anything I would have to say is going to offend or hurt someone’s feelings. This is going to be a cacophony of thoughts.  Then, I’ll try to bring it all together at the end okay.  Lets Go . . .

1) I’m Flattered But . . .

Recently, a guy from my past popped up out of nowhere.  We went to the same church when we were younger.  Due to my perpetual status as on outsider, we didn’t have much interaction.  He was cute, but he didn’t talk to me, probably because I was the awkward fat girl.  For some reason, he’s intent on convincing me that I am the one person he needs to make his life better.  Except, he’s doing it all wrong!

If you have to beg me to pay attention to you, you aren’t worth my time. Conversely, I shouldn’t be worth yours. The minute a girl says to you, I’m not ready for a relationship, believe her!  My aversion to anything that looks like a relationship aside, why are you trying so hard? And who told you the way to a woman’s heart was begging? Like, thanks for paying attention to me 20 years later . . . but no thanks.

Underneath this new – more curvy, less chunky – figure I am the SAME awkward Fat Girl from the Teen Choir.  I haven’t changed at all.  I said when I started losing weight, the men who started paying attention to me {but didn’t give me the time of day when I was at my largest} would be the first men to get told off.  Because I don’t care what kind of society we live in . . .If you didn’t like me at my ‘worst’, Fuck you Very Much at my very Best.

2) I’m In Love with Another Man . . . 

First of all, let me just say Jazmine Sullivan took my WHOLE entire existence with this song when I first heard it 3+ years ago.  But the words are ringing true to me currently. What’s crazy is, I’m not in love with a specific person.  I’m in Love with an image.  It’s the image I’ve cultivated over the last few years of what/who I’m looking to spend the rest of my life with.

I’m in Love with my Best Friend.  I don’t even know if I could be attracted to someone I didn’t trust with all my secrets FIRST.  Sexual Attraction is such a great idea….But it’s not gonna keep me warm in the middle of the night.  It’s not going to buy me Hello Kitty accessories because they saw them while they were out. I’m looking for the guy who knows my mood based soley on the Spotify Playlist playing while I’m washing dishes.

The person you should end up with, in my very humble opinion, is the person you think about when bad shit happens.  It’s the first person you call when you need to cry (more on that later).  Its the person whose face you know would make you feel safe.  In all of my relationship travels, there have been very few people that I’ve thought had the potential to be that person for me. 

Of course, my track record with falling in love with my Best Friend hasn’t gone so well in the past . . .

 3) WE, are Never Ever, Ever, Getting Back Together . . . 

In the same vein . . . I’m really tired of people telling me how I should feel about my Ex.  I’ve decided I’m allowed to hate him whenever I want to.  I am allowed to love him whenever I want to. I am allowed to miss him whenever I want to.  I want to be able to say I don’t ever want to see him again, and that be okay.  The Happy I Felt when we were together is something I should say I want again in my life.  But I don’t want that.  Ever.  Because if you have it, you can lose it.

Losing it almost broke me.  Few people I was on the verge of Suicide when I moved back to Michigan. *Well, now everyone knows I guess* I left AZ because the stress of knowing he was so close and yet so far was getting to me.  Staying in AZ gave me a false sense of hope.  I’ve learned that Hope should only apply to Barack Obama and the Dreams of Suckers. {10pts if you get this movie reference}

I don’t want to EVER see him again.  I don’t want to hear his voice, or smell him, or listen to his favorite song. I don’t even like seeing pictures of him.  Because 1st, I remember the Happy.  But IMMEDIATELY after that, I remember the Sad.  And that Sad almost took me out.

See how my thoughts don’t make any sense.  Those three things I just posted, in complete conflict with each other.  But Wait, there’s more…

4) Being Honest Is Hard

I’ve stopped telling people stuff I think might hurt their feelings.  I’ve stopped making statements that might offend ‘outsiders.’ Now, I do have a circle of friends who accept everything that comes out of my mouth.  But . . . even amongst some of my “Close” Friends, I don’t say what I think.  I think being in social work has stunted my emotional freedom.

I used to ‘react’ quickly to things that offended me.  I used to stand up for myself when I felt slighted.  I don’t do that anymore either.  That could be the result of being told my feelings don’t matter.  It could be because my feelings are never validated, because they don’t go along with the desired emotional direction of “The Team.”  But whatever has caused this emotional retardation that has made me sensitive to everyone but me, it’s time out for that shit.

  5) Stop being a Baby

I cry too fucking much.  Like, I spent a SOLID 28 years, never crying.  We are talking maybe one ugly cry a year.  Since 2010, I swear I’ve cried on average 4 times a month.  Like, I cry watching tv shows.  I cry watching movies.  I cry listening to music.  I cry during phone conversations.  What the fuck is wrong with me?

Crying is for weak people, who can’t suck it up and deal with what life hands them. This crying all the damn time thing isn’t even something I would have ever thought I would go through.  *Boy, was that Psychic Wrong*  I still handle problems and get shit done.  But it’s fucking embarrassing.  Everyone shouldn’t see my tears.  They haven’t earned the right to see me this vulnerable. I’m starting to think I should have gone to therapy once I moved back to Michigan.  I might be in a better place emotionally.

So Yeah, that’s it for now.  I doubt this makes any sense.  I don’t really think it was meant to.  But I put it all out there, so that’s something right?

The Black Twitter Guide to Dating

In no way can I claim to be part of the #BlackTwitterElite. My blog is not quoted daily, nor do I have 1000+ followers.  No one buys my cookies online, and I haven’t discovered (then exploited) all the secrets Shea Butter holds.  But What I am, is an observer.  I follow the people to which the aforementioned criteria applies to.  In my observations, I have learned that I have been doing this dating thing all wrong.  I offer to you, The Black Twitter (Male) Guide to Dating.  Enjoy!

Rule #1: You Must Be Physically Perfect

NO EDGES, NO MAN!

This means you can never take a bad picture.  EVER. The only way you are considered an eligible prospect is physical perfection, or making a constant effort to get there. The good thing is, you don’t have to be NATURALLY perfect.  Cosmetic ‘restructuring’ is perfectly acceptable, as long as you don’t expect your man to pay for it.  Ass shots, fake boobs, spray tan, proper photo angles . . . all of these are fine, as long as no one is ever exposed to your flaws.

Where do You Fall?

Rule #1a: Long Hair, they really do care.  If it’s a weave – as long as it doesn’t come out during the two-hour quickies in the middle of the day – the Black Twitter Male has no issue with it.  HOWEVER, ‘Yo Edges Betta Be On POINT!’ Those edges must flourish.  If they don’t, you should have a plan of action in order to improve them.  But make sure you purchase your all-natural products from the right person/company/online store, because this faux-paux is grounds for a breakup and an immediate twitter slandering.

Rule #1b: If you choose to go natural, your hair texture must be between a 2B and a 3F.  Anything other than that is nappy, and that shit ain’t cute.  Cuz we all know, Natural ain’t for everybody.

Rule #2: All Girls must understand/like sports to be considered dating material.  

This means you will sit on the couch during the game (after you have made him the greatest sandwich to ever have been made) and watch the game with him.  Because if you won’t watch the game with him, there will always be another female who will.

Black Twitter Perfection

Rule #2a: You must understand enough about sports to never talk during a game, but not enough to argue a call/play.  No good woman is so into sports she disagrees with her man.  The minute you get the urge to argue a call, just go make a sandwich, or clean something.  It could save your relationship.

Rule 2b: You Must Like Football.  American Football, not Soccer.  This is not an option.

Rule 2c: Either you hate Lebron James, or you know all the stats that make him better than Jordan. This rule also applies to Kobe Bryant.  If your man is having an argument about the Greatness of Jordan/LeBron/Kobe, you should be able to back him up.  Your facts must be up to date, so study while you are making dinner.  This shows your level of dedication to your man.

Rule #3: Chivalry Exists, just not all the time.

. . . This.

It’s unfair to expect a man to have a clearly defined role in your relationship, so stop expecting it.  Yes, he is a MAN. But if he doesn’t want to be the provider, that is his choice.  If you fight him about it, it’s really you being difficult, not him being a bum.  Doesn’t he take out the trash? Doesn’t he always cut the grass three days after you ask? Doesn’t he always drive your car when you are going somewhere? Why are you asking so much of him? Do you want to be single?

Rule #3a: You are not allowed to have an opinion . . . ever. You minute you understand this, you will have a happy relationship.

She knows her place . . . do you?

Rule #3b: All women belong in the kitchen, or at work.  You must choose one or the other, you can’t to both.  The minute you find a man, you have to either become his property or his provider.  The 2013 man isn’t looking for a partner, he’s looking for a caregiver. If you can’t cook, then you better have a good ass job.  Cuz Real Men don’t cook, they only use the grill.  And they drink imported beer.  And who do you think it going to pay for that? Surely not him.  So you better be making at least $75,000 a year.  You can’t support two people on anything less.

Every Man on Black Twitter Looks Like This

Rule #4: Men will be men . . . deal with it.

If you question why he thinks it’s okay to flirt on social media, it’s because he’s a man.  He’s not fcuking her, they just play flirt.  Stop being so sensitive.  You are lucky to even have a man, if you think about it.  You, with your 4b textured hair, and your oddly off-kilter smile.  You are really pushing it by asking him to respect your relationship. Having expectations for your man is why you were single in the first place.

Rule #4a: The Modern Black Woman doesn’t expect the man to do anything but love her.  If you want to go on a $200 date (what you need to know it’s real) then you BEST pay for it yourself.  Or at least pay half.  And if you don’t pay for half of it, you should have a way to say thank you . . . Also, don’t ask for anything. BUT, you better let him know what you are NOT asking for.  Don’t just show up at the crib with your Hair Did, Nails Done, everything did.  You better tell him where you are going first!

. . . and that’s fine. You should be Light Skinned tho . . .

Rule #5: All single women are lonely bitter women . . . and also probably dark skinned.

Because Light Skinned women are perfect.  They fit all the requirements by just existing.  Its not the Black Twitter Male’s fault that you have 2 babies’ fathers.  He didn’t leave you alone and pregnant. He takes care of his 4 kids, $50 a month for each of them. And he sees them on the Holidays.  Why are you so angry? Is it helping, Bitter DarkSkinned Lonely Black Woman.  I doubt it.

Rule #5a: The best kind of woman is a Lady in the Streets, and a Freak in the bed.  And also a Freak on Twitter.  Also a Freak on Instagram.  Also, she is a Twitter Honey. (She’s allowed to have followers, but she can only follow you) And also, she can twerk to any song.  And also, she’s down for a threesome.  Or a foursome.  Also, she will send you nudes on every major life occasion, and then just because.  And, if you as a Black Twitter Male leaks those nudes, well it’s her fault for being a Hoe.

Rule #5b: The Black Twitter Male is looking for a submissive woman.  This means he is in charge all the time.  He sets all the rules that she is to live by, in their relationship.  He is also not bound by these rules, because he is a man. (See Rule #4) She must have read 50 Shades of Grey, and been able to relate to it.  Because all women really just want a man to be in charge, and the perfect woman wants to hand over control the minute she meets a man.

I share . . . because I Care.

Doesn’t all this information make you look at Dating in 2013 in a different light?!?!?!  You, like me, were probably trying to put your best foot forward, and not settle for anything less than perfect.  Now that you know the standards you should be living up to, I hope to see all of my friends wifed up by the end of 2013.  I’m looking for all kinds of wedding invites in 2014.

Thanks for Reading! Comments/Thoughts/Additional Rules Welcomed!

Dear Skinny Stranger Bitch . . . You Don’t Know My Story

*If I was your teacher in your youth, I’m sorry you had to read these harsh words   If I taught your child, I’m sorry you had to see these harsh words.  But, they must be said.*

I went to church today.  My wonderful Pastor was talking about “Breaking Out of Your Rut” in life.  Evidently during my gallivanting (Defn: to go about in search of pleasure) last weekend, I missed part one.

Today’s sermon focused on the last 3 steps to escaping your Rut. The point we are discussing, indeed the catalyst for this rant was Exercise Your Body.  His main point during the sermon was, Movement of your body inspires you to do more in your everyday life.  My rant, however, is not about my Pastor’s words.  It’s about a complete stranger’s way of dealing with them.

Episode #1: As my Pastor is talking, he says, “Now say to your Neighbor, Movement is Good.” My Neighbor to my left says, “You should really listen to what he is saying.

Who Bitch What?!?!?!?

I didn’t say anything, because I knew that if I punched this random Skinny Stranger Bitch in her fucking face, I would probably be asked to leave.  So I just said Amen, and went back to listening to my Pastor.

Episode #2: My Pastor stated something to the effect of, “Y0ur homework for this week is to get up and move.  Walk 15 minutes.” The Skinny Stranger Bitch then gave me the  Holy Helpful Stranger arm rub and said, ‘Now I know it’s hard for you to lose all that weight.  But you have to try.”

Who. Bitch. What?!?!?!?!?

Episode #3: My Pastor then stated something to the effect of, Movement will make you feel better about yourself. Again with the Holy Helpful Stranger Arm Rub, “I have a niece that’s bi— Full Figured like you, and I tell her all the time, You have to try.”

Mother. Fuck.

First of all, stop touching me heaux, I don’t know you like that.  Second of all, all fat people are not the same.  Third, my thighs touching is not an indicator  I Hate My Life.  You Don’t Know My Story.  You don’t know SHIT about me.  You look at me and see a Fat Girl. And that, is the Mother. Fucking. Problem.

I have never met this woman in my life.  She doesn’t know that I’ve lost 60lbs in the last 13 months, and I am working toward losing another 30 before June.  But HOW DARE YOU . . . My Fat is not your business.  Even if I was 600lbs, you don’t have the right to give me advice about what to do with my body.  You have enough room on the bench, my fat is not touching you – so kindly Shut The Fuck Up.

I think her compulsion to save me is actually part of a bigger issue – that is,  the need to help those we deem less fortunate than us.  Of course this assessment of need is based solely on outward physical appearance.

I call what she did Skinny Bitch Privilege.   The Skinny Bitch feels they are the media’s (read: the USA Media) representation of ‘Beauty,” so this means they have the right to ‘help’ people get like them.  They ASSUME anyone who isn’t like them, just hasn’t had the right motivation to Get Like Them. Their Mindset seems to be, “Oh Woe is You.  Please allow me to help you on your journey to being a better person.

Fat DOES NOT EQUAL Unhappy/Sick/Lazy. If there is one constant annoyance in these past 13 months, it has been the perception/assumption that my weight loss happened because I was finally tired of being fat.  It didn’t.  It happened because someone told me I couldn’t do it.  A 60 day challenge turned into a lifestyle change.

Do I feel better now that I’ve lost weight? Yes.  Do I have more energy? Yes. Do rainbows now fly out of my soul every time I work out? No.  Do I know feel complete and whole? NO.  I wasn’t miserable at 378lbs. I’m not ridiculously happy at 318lbs. But however I feel about my body, you will NEVER have the right to tell me your opinion about it.

Listen Skinny Bitch, I’m good.  I eat what I want, I don’t suffer from any sort of guilt/shame about my size.  I’m a grown ass woman.  I like food I know isn’t good for me, and if I feel like it, Imma eat that shit! I don’t need your help or your Pity.

Please, go on with your eating of Salad, I eat that too. Continue to prosper as you use the elliptical to get an ass that looks like mine. Further your journey into the land of Thighs Don’t Touch, I hear it’s cold and dry there . . . but that might just be a rumor.

You might not agree with my thoughts, that’s totally fine.  But thank you for reading, feel free to comment/express your opinion. As long as it’s not about my body 🙂

Moment of Clarity or The Man of My Dreams . . .

When I was younger, my mother would say I had ‘Second Sight’ because I would make statements, say the most ridiculous things about people, and they would be (or come) true. I knew what I knew because I would dream it.  It wasn’t always clear to me what it meant, but I would always share it with my mom.  I was the Fish Dream QUEEN until I hit puberty.  About then, my dreams started to be less detailed and more like everyone else’s.

Honestly, the ability to see other people’s lives in my dreams used to scare me.  I never told anyone but my mom about it, because I thought it made me just a little too different.  On occasion, I would have a dream that was warning me of something or someone and I would trust it.  The only by-product of this pre-pubescent skill seemed to be the ability to pick lottery numbers for one of my mother’s friends.  Any time he would ask, I would give him winning numbers.  Sadly, we didn’t get money, but I did get pretty dresses.

Because I still remember what my dreams used to tell me, I believe and trust them.  They help explain (frequently to myself) the rationale behind something which has already happened in my life.  Nonetheless, I ALWAYS I know I am dreaming.  I have a Moment of Clarity (usually at the beginning of the dream) in which I state, “This isn’t real.” It helps me process what I’m experiencing during the dream, as well as after.

This morning, I dreamt  about The One that Got Away. *He will always be known as that, I think we would have been an amazing couple.  If only I hadn’t been so shy when I was younger.* I had gone to Dayton to visit some friends, and we happened to be in the same place.  We saw each other from afar and made eye contact.  In my mind, he should have immediately come and spoken to me.  For some reason, he chose not to.  I was PISSED.  I said in front of everyone in the restaurant, “I’m standing here trying to figure out why *********** hasn’t walked over here and spoken to me.” I then walked away, grabbed a straightening comb and went to find a plug.

He quickly followed me out of the room, and the restaurant morphed into my father’s house.  I walked into my childhood bedroom and he joined me.  I lay down on the bed, and he sat beside me.  We started conversing about everything I’ve gone through in the last 2 years and after telling him about it,  I experienced such a feeling of peace.

The kind of peace you only experience post-Church Service that was speaking to your soul. We just laid there, I put my head on his chest and slept. Before I fell asleep, he said, “I’ll be here when you wake up.”  When my alarm went off, he wasn’t there.   I cried, HARD. He had broken his promise to me.

I really had to tell myself, MJ it was a dream. After thinking about this dream all day, and talking to TOTGA, I finally interpreted  the dream.  It wasn’t so much about him, but men in my life. It must be stated, I’m an open book.  I don’t hide anything from people I meet, especially if I plan on being emotionally intimate with them.  With the exception of 1 person, they have all broken their promises (or gone against their word). Be it, “No one will know,” or “I’ll never judge you,” or “Our friendship will always be important to me,” they have all been proven false.

I hold people to incredibly high standards.  That’s how I was raised by both of my parents, and it’s something I apply to my everyday life.  (That’s a whole other blog though)

In the case of my Father, he has broken so many promises to me in my lifetime (in my opinion) trusting him isn’t really an option at this point.  As a grown woman, I shouldn’t’ need to rely on his promises, right?  I should be looking at my ‘Mate’ for that kind of security.  The problem is, every man I have ever been involved with romantically has been some version of my father in some way.  This shouldn’t have come as such a surprise to me, as I’ve spoken about my Daddy Issues at length in other postings.

In my experience, Moments of Clarity are the by-product of a subconscious accepting of something you have been struggling to comprehend/understand/deal with.  When it clicks in your soul, you can finally face it in your mind. I’m there now.

I can finally admit there was nothing I could have done to change how my relationship with MM ended.  There were too many reasons it wasn’t working, and only a few reasons it was.  I can admit I failed.  I made a promise I wasn’t able to keep, and THAT’S what hurt the most.  I am and have been living with the guilt that I am Just Like My Father.  Talk about MindFuck.  Yeah, all that.

This Moment of Clarity comes at a hard time for me personally.  I’ve lost 2 friends this year, mostly due to my own inability to deal with the loss of MM.  I don’t blame people for writing me off.  I can only hope they eventually understand  my side of it, and we are able to move past everything. When TOTGA asked me about my life, I told him it was ‘Manageable.’ His advice: Work on your management skills, it’s bound to get better.

 Thank God for Granting Me, this Moment of Clarity.

I’m glad it was delivered by the Man of My Dreams.

I’m Just Sayin’….

Just some shit I want to get off my chest. If it offends you, remember a hit dog hollers…

Issue #1: Weight Loss —-> Hateration (in this dancerie)

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If you know me at all you know how much of a struggle losing this weight has been. This shit ain’t easy at all. But you would swear that with every pound I drop, and inch I lose I’m personally telling people to go fcuk themselves. I’ve heard everything from ‘You think you’re cute now huh?’ to ‘Ever since you lost weight You are cocky…’

Are you fcuking serious? Have you met me?!?! I mean like the real me. Hell, have you read a blog I’ve written. I’ve always thought I was cute. Not sexy or gorgeous but hell yeah I’m cute. And I think I’m so awesome I tell strangers. Its never been what I thought of myself. Always what others assumed about me based on my size, race, sex, physical appearance etc.

Let me just tell you, in case you still don’t get it. Bitch I’m Amazing. Cellulite, Sweat, Blood, and tears. I’m so got damn amazing its hard to not tattoo that shit on my wrist. Fcuk You if you think differently.

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Issue #2: I like you but…

Again, I’ve been saying for years that most of the men that approach me don’t do it out of fat girl pity. I don’t even get approached by chubby chasers. Its everyday dudes that see something about me they like. Sadly, it frequently seems to be men who are already in relationships. In the past, this didn’t bother me… Simply because I believe if you don’t take care of what’s yours, he will find someone who does.

But after my brief experiment with Love, I’m noticing that they aren’t even unhappy men. They aren’t planning on leaving their home, they just want me too.  What in the hell?!?! Did I accidently put, ‘Used to be a Side Chick’ on my shirt. I don’t remember that, but I guess. At some point it goes from flattering to insulting. Like for real, its something that happens so frequently these days I’m starting to try to figure out what I’m doing to attract these people.

It could be Karma or as one friend suggests, a Godly test to see if I am indeed ready for a stable relationship. Either way, its getting on my got damn nerves. Because Operation Get MJW Wifed Up by 2014 is so real. Being single is not what’s hot in the streets right now. At all! A chick got bills all up in though here.

So for real, fcuk you if you already have someone and want me to take your sloppy seconds. If you aren’t ready to enter into a partnership with me that includes keys to vehicles and names on bank accounts you can get to stepping. I’m 30 years old and I don’t have time for all that bullshit.

Issue #3: Poverty vs. Laziness

I got into an argument with my father about a month ago. He tried to tell me that the reason I never have money is because I don’t know how to budget my money. My response, I don’t have money to budget.  Its not hyperbole to say I’m so underpaid I am almost physically ill when I get a paycheck. But at least I have a job.
I work 40 hours a week, and that’s not enough to pay all my bills. But the Hustle is strong within me, and my mother taught me to take care of myself. So I make due. I babysit on the weeknds and usually twice or more during the week. I make my own lunch most days and I cook dinner instead of eating out.  That leaves no money for extras but at 30 I don’t need that much.

But some people seem to think I’m lazy. How? You never see me cuz every time you call I’m busy. I have lost 6 sizes since March. I NEVER stop moving, and not by choice. So again, fcuk you if you’re mad at ME, cuz I hustle when I have to. I have a feeling someone will read this and assume I just cursed my father. I didn’t.

I have more to say. Maybe when I get another 36mins on this exercise bike.

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50 Shades of Fucked Up . . . An Honest Inventory of My Life at 30

This blog was supposed to be written on my 30th Birthday.  As I spent it drunk & crying it was clearly delayed.  This isn’t written for everyone.  Those of you who are casual readers and just happened on this page because of the Tags, sorry if nothing makes sense.  To my regular readers, yeah it’s been a while.  I used to blog monthly.  I always had something to say.  It would come to me, and I would sit at my laptop and just let it out.  I haven’t posted a blog in 3 months.  I need to first say somethings.

1) I am probably the only woman in America who read 50 Shades of Grey, and skipped the sex.  I read the sex scenes sparingly, and usually just went right past it.  In my life, sex has never really played an important role, and I think for good reason.  I can honestly do without it most of the time.  Every now and again, I might get an itch.  Usually, it passes. I let it go.  I was a Virgin until I was 26 years and 8 months old, by choice.  I’ve literally gone 2 years at this point without having sex.  It’s not that deep to me.

This is not to say, that the sex scenes weren’t awesome.  But by the time I got to middle of the book, I wasn’t reading it for that anymore.  It was the conversations, particularly the email exchanges that I loved so much.  Amazing how much more honest we can be in writing than face-to-face.  I understood that part of it perfectly.  It’s harder to share my inner most thoughts while I’m looking at someone.  This is probably why, I hate kissing, and looking people {especially men} in the eye.  Way too intimate.  50 Shades of Fucked Up . . .But We Don’t Judge.

2) 50 Shades of Grey is my life.  I’m PISSED I didn’t write this damn book! It’s almost verbatim conversations that I have had in the very recent past.  It was shocking and strange to see these words, these situations on paper, and know they aren’t something I wrote in my journal.  I started reading the book at 10pm, it is now 3am and I had to blog about this before I could go to sleep.  It’s that deep.

I texted my BFF, “I wanted, more than anything, to be the Anastasia to MM’s Christian Grey.” It’s NOT about the sex.  It never was.  It was about the power.  To have that power, control it, and harness it to be used at your discretion.  I didn’t think anyone else in the world could understand how that felt.  At times, it could have been stated better, but overall, the sentiment of 50 Shade of Grey is EXACTLY what I have been dealing with for the last 6 months.

3) Loving someone who is seemingly incapable of loving you back {the way you Want/Need/Desire them to} will ruin you, if you let it.  If you have read any of my blogs since MM came back, you know where I was just 3 months ago. As I never hide and I share everything, I can share this too.  It didn’t work out.  I was in a dark place for a while because of it.  When it all started falling apart, I thought It was me.  That I hadn’t worked hard enough, done everything that I could have, to make him understand how much I loved him.  It didn’t matter what I said, what I did, how much weight I lost, how I cut my hair.  He wasn’t there, at least not for me.

Seeing the pain, the physical restraint in a man’s eyes, when you get to the breaking point is devastating.  At least it was for me.  Knowing that he loves you enough to share things he hasn’t ever told another living soul, but somehow, something in him won’t allow him to get to that next level is just…  Understanding that you will never be with a person, not because you are less than, but you are instead TOO MUCH.  

I’m not simple.  I had a desire to be simple, for him.  I was willing to step out of my comfort zone, and be who I thought he needed me to be.  In return, I asked for {in my opinion} very little. Sadly, the only thing I asked, he wasn’t able to give. If/When he finds someone else, it will be because they are easy.  If we are still friends when that happens, I will acknowledge that, and be sad about it.

4) It’s okay to want more.  It’s not okay to require more from someone you already know can’t give it to you.  Doesn’t matter how many times you talk to your best friends, how many conversations you have with God, trust YOUR Mind.  I knew it wasn’t there.  Not how i needed it to be.  I had to realize it didn’t matter how much we loved each other, because we do, It wasn’t in the way that would make it work out for us. I wanted all of him, because I gave him all of me.  His 50 Shades of Fucked Up wouldn’t let him get past whatever was stopping him from giving me more.

You ever have a thought in your mind? A picture of what your life is going to be? Destroy that picture.  Please.  That picture will make you search for something that might not be what God has in mind for you.  It’s okay to have a preference, it’s not okay to allow that preference to stop you from experiencing a life you never expected.

I’ve always pictured myself as a Big Girl.  I’m proud of my Big Girl Status, I embraced it and shared that pride with the world.  I, hesitated, to lose weight.  I fought myself, and several family members, about my health for the majority of my life.  Working out is one of the best feelings I have ever had in my life.  The euphoria I feel, when I step off a treadmill after 45mins, and know that I am doing something to make me better is just . . . BLISS.

My picture of me is changing {that blog is coming}. It’s something so unexpected, and beautiful, I don’t even have the words . . . This new me, this new body, this new lifestyle is beyond my wildest dreams.  Add to that, I’ve never loved myself more.  People, you just REALLY don’t understand.  Sometimes stepping out of your comfort zone, will be the best thing that ever happened to you.

5) Today, while floating in the pool at work (yes, the pool at work) I realized that my life, is pretty amazing.  

I walk into work, and at least 7 people tell me how happy they are to see me.  They can’t wait to talk to me, tell me every little tid bit of their life since I last saw them.  I clock out for lunch, and spend the next 45+ minutes working out.  Either on a bike, or a treadmill, or the dreaded elliptical.  Or, lately, In a beautiful pool surrounded by Palm Trees and nothing but blue skies.  I clock back in, and get to play with play-dough, or got for a walk and look for lizards, or shake my booty to the latest in kiddy music, “I’m Elmo and I Know It.”

I come home, and pull into a garage that belongs to me.  I enter my beautiful kitchen, with the skylight and vaulted ceilings, and put my keys on a marbled counter.  I place my shoes on the carpeted surface I placed on the front of my foyer (yes, I have a foyer) and walk across my Hard Wood Floors. I check one of my 4 bedrooms to make sure no creatures have taken over my house while I’m at work.

I can look out my patio doors and look at backyard, with the pool and Jacuzzi (that will work once I find a pool guy who works on the weekend) and picture my family out there on Labor Day.  If it’s too hot, I can turn on a ceiling fan or the Air conditioner.  I can sit on my couch, and stare at my 55″ screen TV, turn on my Dish Network and check the DVR.

This is not me bragging.  Please do not take it as such.  This is me taking stock of my life.

HOW DARE I BE SAD!  How Dare I have the Audacity to be Melancholy about  Life? 

My Life is a Blessing.  I solemly vow to start to treat it as such.