Goodbye John

I used to work as a concierge at an apartment complex. I loved my residents and many of them became like family to me. There was one man in particular that stood out to me. His name was John. John worked at BellSouth and always drove his truck home. Many times on his way up to his apartment he'd stop and say hello. There were times that John and I would talk for hours on end. Literally. He'd stand for nearly my whole shift as we laughed and talked about music.

John was a drummer and taught his son drumming. His son is now one of the world's most renowned drummers, John Blackwell Jr. Junior had played for Gladys Knight, Prince, and from what I just read on the internet, he still plays with Prince at times, but now plays with Maze and Frankie Beverly. John Sr. Was always really charming and a total gentleman. He wanted me to meet his son, but the day he was in town, I had a scheduling conflict. He'd tell me hilarious stories about his childhood and his brother Ernest he told me fascinating things about his whole family.

I regretted not staying in touch with him after I left and I even tried a few times to find him. I never succeeded. But I did manage to get news through a friend of mine that was a drummer who followed John Jr. He told me that Jr.'s daughter (Sr.'s grand daughter), Jia had died after a freak drowning in Chicago. My heart ached for him and again, to no avail, I tried to find him, hoping he'd still lived in Atlanta.

Last night, while hanging with my friend, Greg (the drummer) I learned that John Sr. had died. I'm not sure what the cause was, but I know that he'd had a few heart attacks previously. He was only 61 years old. Funny enough, the older I get, the younger 61 sounds. Especially when it's someone as full of life as John. We used to talk about our favorite singers and we shared a love of the Temptations. He told me that he once listened to "You're My Everything" by the Temps the whole way from South Carolina back to Atlanta. He told me the artists that he'd played with and spoke so highly of his son.

I don't know, I guess I thought I had so much more time to find John and reconnect. I was even thinking a few days ago that I may actually make it to the New Year without losing anyone that I knew. That would have been a first since I was 14 years old. I guess I was wrong. I just sent John Jr. a message, expressing my condolences, sharing my experience with his father, and telling him that I'd love to meet, as his father had suggested before. Who knows if he'll get my message. But regardless, John Blackwell Sr. was a hell of a person, full of love, life, and energy. He will be missed.

Rest in Peace, John.

Missed Chances

There's a guy named Adam that I went to high school with. I always thought he was cute, but he was a few grades older than me and didn't know me. Yearly 10 years later, I worked at a restaurant and I came across him. He was even cuter. I told him that I remembered him and we flirted briefly before exchanging numbers.

I'll never forget that our first date was on New Year's Eve in Maggiano's before I had to go to work waiting tables that night at Outback Steakhouse (don't judge me!) He walked me to my car and he kissed me so softly. We literally stopped traffic as he kissed me, while cars piled up waiting for me to get into my car so they could have my spot. The other drivers didn't even blow their horns. I remember the look of one waiting driver as she smiled about our embrace and even playfully cheered us on.

We never slept together. Well, technically we did, but not really. We had a night of heavy petting and the next morning, we woke up and started briefly, but then stopped because I had to go to work. It was literally less than 3 minutes and no one "finished" so I only half count it. But let me tell you, we both felt sparks. We talked about it later and agreed that we'd only been dating for a few weeks and although we could tell it would be incredible when we finally did get it on, we should wait.

A few weeks more we dated and he eventually disappeared. He stopped calling and he stopped answering my calls. I was hurt. He was perfect. He always told me that I was beautiful. He had a gorgeous smile. We had a great time together. And he disappeared on me. It took a couple of weeks but I got over it. Then he called me on Valentine's Day. I saw his number and my heart leaped. I anxiously answered. "Hello." I answered while smiling. I knew it was him. Silence. "Hello," I said a little more curious. Again he said nothing. Was this a cruel joke? Why call me on Valentine's Day of all days and then say nothing? He was one of the few cases of men that I knew I'd loved from the beginning, he came in, swept me up, suddenly dumped me, and then called on the most romantic day of the year just to breathe in my ear? I responded by saying "just leave me alone and don't call me again, Adam" and I hung up.

I don't remember how it happened, but we saw one another again some time later. We became friends although there remained sexual energy. He later on started dating another woman and I later on dated and had a child by Pookie. He and I maintained a distant friendship. We eventually talked about what happened and he confessed that he cared about me deeply but at the time he couldn't commit to me. He missed me which is why he called on Valentine's day, yet he couldn't muster up the courage to say anything. Yet somehow, he managed to get a girlfriend and move in with her a few months later. We haven't spoken in a few years although I've continued to look him up on Facebook and Myspace.

Sometimes I think back on us and wonder if things had been different if we'd have slept together that night. There are only two men that I consider to be "the one that got away." Adam and Omar. If Adam and I hadn't stayed together, perhaps we would have at least really felt one another, at least once. Maybe it would have taken us to the next level. Maybe not. But I'm still curious. I don't think I'd sleep with him now. I'm happy with my life and I have too much to lose. He only creeps into the corners of my mind on occasion. But there will always exist the thoughts of "if only..."

Getting Our Grown Women On

So I've been hurling my guts out with a nasty stomach bug that I've gotten from my son. Thankfully I'm finally feeling better. I didn't want my first big Christmas with my family to be a bust as I kept running to hurl so I'm glad that my stomach is calming down on me.

As the holidays draw closer, I'm glad that some of my fabulous female friends are finally getting booed up. I've always thought that my female friends were awesome beyond belief so I love knowing that there are men that recognize their awesomeness as much as I do. Gone are the days of chasing emotionally unavailable men with girlfriends and other baggage. Gone are the days of chasing men that can never love us as much as they love themselves. Gone are the days of sitting back and waiting to be the number one woman in a man's life. My female friends are finding happiness in good men and are not only liking these men, they're being pursued in return. I love it when they call me and tell me that their men are taking them out and ready for a future. I'm glad because I'm one of the few people I know in a moderately happy relationship but now my wonderful female friends are finding men that are free of games and headaches. I'm glad too because they deserve it.

As we gotten older we've cried together about the men we loved that didn't love us back and truthfully it hurt like hell at the time. But what's the point of having your ass kicked by love if you're stupid enough to repeat the same mistakes? Only a total moron would jump from one man that doesn't love her to another one. My girlfriends have taught me that as we leaned on one another, we also learned from one another. My friend that had gotten caught up in the Facebook drama has since decided to leave dude alone and is now being courted by a man that is fully waiting and available to her. Another girl has a man that has encouraged her to go back to school, and my other friend has a man that she's really digging.

I'm glad that we're no longer waiting for men to love us back. No woman in her 30's and beyond should be that stupid.

Bullshit, Cheating, and Suicide

A while ago, I wrote about my friend Julie going through some drama via Facebook. She started sleeping with her exboyfriend Derek, knowing he was engaged but later found out that he and his fiance have a baby on the way (here). Well, since then, of course things got thicker. Well first off, we found out that there's only one baby on the way. Apparently his fiance has a dummy page. Well, that is still a relief, but that didn't take away from the fact that dude has a baby on the way with his fiance, which is too much drama fro Julie to deal with. My homie decided to cut her losses and tell the dude to beat it, even though he kept calling her and begging her to stick with him. But his fiance has since then gone through his phone and reached out to Julie.

She sent Julie a text message saying that she'd noticed that he'd been calling her a lot and sending her pictures and she just wanted to know what was going on before she married the dude. My heart went out to the fiance, but my loyalty was with Julie. I told my friend to respond with something along the lines of 'I can't help you, but go with your gut and good luck on that.' Julie decided to just not respond, but she warned Derek to get his girl, otherwise she might just pick up the phone next time.

This morning I woke up and checked one of my favorite sites, postsecret.com.  Someone had emailed Frank, the person that runs the site and said that they'd recently gone through suicide prevention counseling and was able to talk a suicidal friend out of ending it all. I briefly thought to myself that I wouldn't mind going through training like that. Then later I checked my Facebook page and saw that another homegirl of mine was about to go off on some dude's girl and she needed me to talk to her. I told her to hit me stat.

She called and I asked what the issue was. She told me that it was about the dude she'd traveled to Texas to visit a while back. Dude was her first love and they'd reconnected, prompting her to consider moving her and her children to be next to him. She went and visited and she was stuck in a hotel the whole time and pissed about how she went through so much to be next to him, yet he ignored her when they were finally alone. However, him ignoring her happened after she'd slept with him, the first guy she'd slept with in over a year. She called me pissed off on her last day in Texas and I told her to make the best of if and go out and explore the neighborhood she was visiting. When she got back, she called dude to tell her that she made it home, but HIS WIFE answered. Blow.

Apparently dude had still been calling her, begging her to be with him, even though she said she didn't want to hear it if he hadn't left the wife. I wished she'd have told me, but I would have told her to stop taking his phone calls the moment she got home, but I digress.

Anyway, it seems that dude's wife had started calling my friend, talking reckless. My friend hadn't told the wife what the real issue is, but she's tempted. I told her that since he's the real asshole in the whole issue, she should tell the wife what really went on. That's when she started crying and told me that all three of the men she's loved in her life have done her wrong and she was tired of it. She told me that she'd been having thoughts of suicide and was even thinking of it the last time we'd talked, although she'd never mentioned it. She broke down and said how unfair it is that she only wants a man to love her but all of them are full of shit.

I listened to her cry and told her that first off, I wanted to kick her ass for not telling me she'd felt like that before. Then she told me that she thought I was working at the time and didn't want to bother me. I assured her that no matter what was going on, if she needed to talk like that, my door was always open. Then I talked about my time with my ex and even Pookie and how at times, I too had felt the same way. I said how fucked up it is that Black men seem to think that breaking hearts makes them bigger and better than others. I told her that my ex told me that he'd loved me and was pretty much living with me at one point and didn't give a shit how he ended it. And then I told her that at one point Pookie was gonna leave me high and dry while pregnant and not look back. I was going to really get into my story, but then she had to go get ready for church. She promised to call me later.

If anybody knows how it is to have your heart broken and want to end it all, it's me. I know that my homie is hurting, but she'll be okay. At least I hope she is. It's a damned shame how cruel and selfish some people can be. I'll never understand how some men can be so cruel and callous. What the hell do they think they're gaining? Do they feel like big shit by breaking the hearts of women that they start off begging to love them?

I don't know why men do the bullshit that they do. But I do know that I've been there myself and that we've all gotta lean on each other.

Malika vs. Sociopaths

One of the girls I work with is a sociopath. Seriously. I’m not just saying that because she’s a pain in the ass. She doesn’t care about anything. She doesn’t care about her future. She doesn’t care about rewards and treats. She doesn’t care about being punished. She doesn’t care about hurting others, either emotionally or physically. At times when I see children on the news that have harmed their classmates or shot up the school, a chill runs down my spine because I know that she’s capable of doing the same thing one day. I’m woefully unprepared and unqualified to give her the intense therapy she needs so I do my best, which I know isn’t enough.

It makes no difference to her when I tell her that she’ll never get into the college of her choice if she keeps fighting and acting out. I told her about how good she has it, having loving parents, and I told her a little about Keisha, who was locked in closets and choked by her mother. She looked at me and giggled. That has been the only time that I’ve ever wanted to lay hands to one of my kids. I turned away from her for fear that I would surely say something to her that would garner my getting fired. I still do what is professionally required of me when working with her, but I don’t have anywhere near the emotional attachment to her that I have with my other kids. Going to see her is a chore for me, while I’d hang out with my other kids for free (which I actually have done).

I took her to see a therapist one day and I explained to him that of all the kids I’ve ever worked with, she’s the only one that has never gotten that spark. The “spark” I refer to happens in many children with discipline problems. They will talk to a mentor who tells them about college and growing up to be doctors and lawyers and there will appear a small spark in that child’s eye that lets you know that they hear you. Don’t get me wrong, seeing the spark doesn’t mean that the child is going to suddenly fly right, but at least in the back of their mind they have it stored that they want to live a life out of jail and full of enrichment. At the end of their session, once she’d left the room, I told the doctor that I believed her to be a sociopath. He looked at me and casually nodded and shrugged as if we’d been discussing the weather. I asked him how I was supposed to help her. He told me that the only thing I could do was to keep taking her out and talking to her. A lot of good that’s proven to do (not!)

I think the reason that I have such a hard time dealing with her is that she reminds me of two other sociopaths I know: my former roommate Aliya and my stalker, Chloe. They particularly came to mind as I read something about sociopaths on the internet this evening.

“There are stories of people diagnosed as sociopaths who did improve to some degree, with the most ceaseless and diligent help. But since the vast majority of this huge body of people (there are more than three hundred million sociopaths on Earth) cannot get that kind of attention, they turn to abusing those they envy, and often to crime. It is certainly vengeance: "If I can't have any of this, why should you?" This is the real reason sociopaths lash out at strong and kind people. No matter what they say, they know that inside, they are always empty and damaged beyond repair.”

My fallout with Aliya was brutal. She was the girlfriend of my boyfriend’s best friend. We were opposites in a lot of ways. I was outgoing, she was more of an introvert. She enjoyed trying to prove how smart she was to the world, and despite me seeming like a dingbat, I didn’t care enough about others to prove myself. I enjoyed dressing up like a girl on occasion, she never wore a skirt the whole time I’d known her. Things seemed cool at first but they took a left turn once we’d started living and working together.

She’d get angry if I wanted to go out on the weekend with other friends instead of staying home with her. While she’d had her secure clique of cronies that we worked with, I hung with them on occasion, but still had many outside interests. Suddenly my coworkers would get weird with me. They’d get pissed off that I didn’t exercise with them on weekends, despite me explaining that I worked my second job on weekends and that I worked out during the week. I explained to them that they technically got to see more of me than anyone else, but they didn’t get it. They hung out so much, but that was also their only job. I had a second job, plus I was in school full time. They grew to resent me and making me feel ostracized and bad, despite me never doing a wrong thing to any of them. The job became unbearable.

I later found out that Aliya was a major liar. I became skeptical of her once I realized that she’d tried to keep me from getting next to Kelsy while I was still crushing on him. I hadn’t thought about it until later, but I got way more guy attention than Aliya. I guess what she didn’t see was that yeah, I got attention from men, but many of them only wanted sex (which they weren’t getting from me). I’ve always had a guy around me or another, so I’ve never been single. She, looking back on it, was overweight, had pimples, a horrible fashion sense, and had a hard time keeping a guy. But still I always supported her.

Eventually I realized that she was trying to get me fired from my job. I got written up for some bullshit one day so I quit by throwing the write up in my boss’ face, walking out, and not looking back. A short while later I ended up homeless because of her (long story) and one of our guy friends was the savior that helped me move since I was carless, in school, had to find somewhere to move quickly, and only had one small part time job.

That friend, Charmer, will always have a soft place in my heart for what he did for me during that time. Although I’d realized that Aliya was crazy (and I still have no clue why she did what she did to me) Charmer told me that she was obsessed with me. Charmer said that she talked about me for hours on end. He knew the names of guys I’d been dating, he knew where I worked, he even knew that my car had broken down a few days before and that a mechanic had jipped me. I hadn’t talked to Charmer in some years, but he knew too damned much about me.

He said that he would ask her to put me on the phone at times and she would refuse. He said that she’d tell him what a slut I was. He said that one day supposedly a guy I dated told her that the sex with me was bad. Charmer and I dated briefly way back when, but his busy schedule kept us from going anywhere. While she and I were cool, she’d tell me stories of how much he wanted her because she was apparently the only woman to ever reject him. Since I’d long since moved on from him, I told her to go for it and that he was a good guy. When the dust settled, he told me that he found her physically repulsive (as did most men) and that he had no idea that she’d been so fascinated with him.

Anyway, after that, I moved on. My former coworkers and friends no longer talk to me, despite me never doing a thing to them. I’ve even tried to explain to them that I’m not the monster that she’s made me out to be, but to no avail. I later developed a shell that made it really hard for me to trust people. I may smile and nod at most people, but overall, I’m always wondering what they want from me. I’ve met people that told me how awesome I am and that they’d like to be friends and I wonder if they’re just jealous. I learned to make people prove themselves and not just believe what I’m told.

And then there was Chloe. I’m not going to go into the whole story involving her (I’ve done that essentially over various posts so I’m not going to bother with it here) but she too was and is a sociopath. It’s a shame that her best friend can’t see how selfish and manipulative she really is, but I’m pretty intuitive and I get the feeling that the day will soon come. Chloe has felt no qualms about relishing in my misery and enjoys playing the victim, while the whole time enjoying attacking me.

I’m thankful that the restraining order has stopped her for now, but I have no doubt in my mind that she will start stalking me again eventually. She quickly apologizes for the things she has put me through, and she often tries to make nice (or so she claims) but after supposedly trying to make nice, she’ll contact my boyfriend or best friend with more insane lies. And I promise you the crazy bitch isn’t missing a wink of sleep behind it. This particular clip reminds me of her.

“Sociopaths can be really charming, but be wary because they are very manipulative and domineering. Sociopaths tend to be compulsive liars with a grandiose sense of self. They also lack the ability empathize with the pain and problems of other people.” That is Chloe Colbert to a tee. And I know that I’m not the only person that sees that in her. We still have mutual friends but I know that she has tried hard to make them think ill of me. Thankfully they know me enough to not believe her lies.

I say all of that to say that working with my young friend isn’t easy. I found an interesting link here about sociopaths (here). Apparently I'm not the only one that's dealt with them. The interesting thing is that so many people have gone through the exact same kind of shit from them. I know the kind of horror and manipulation that she is capable of. I hope that her family and friends know what they’re in for. Because I know. And I damned sure don’t want to be around for it.

Bedsheets and the Nook

Last night, I'd spent the night at Daisy's house so that I could drop her off at the airport this morning. On the way to the airport, I'd told Daisy that although I love Pookie with all of my heart, I tell her that there are things about him that I don't know if I could deal with forever if we ever got married. Daisy then reminded me that almost all married couples feel the same way and that I shouldn't let one or two things keep me from him. I was so relieved to hear her say that because she was right.

Before I left last night I threw our bedsheets in the washer and dryer. Pookie was at work that evening, but I suspected that he'd be so exhausted by the time he got home that he wouldn't fuss with the sheets, but instead go straight to sleep without them. When I got home this morning, I immediately climbed into bed and went back to sleep. A few hours later, I woke up and realized there still hadn't been any sheets on the bed. I didn't care though. Pookie and I held one another as his arms wrapped around me. Strangely enough when we first started dating he told me that he couldn't sleep holding another person. And now here he is, contouring himself to me in his sleep. Every time my legs moved, so did his. Our feet tickled one another. I was in heaven. I heard his heart beat. I felt his chest heave in and out as he breathed silently. I thought back on when I heard Fred's heart beat and I realized that this was different. This wasn't temporary. This wasn't borrowed. This wasn't about him trying to get into my pants. This was me with the man that holds my heart and loves me regardless. This was the man that held me in his sleep and grabbed my waist and pulled me close to him while we rested together.

A moment later I looked up at the bed and thought about the missing sheets. It triggered a memory. I thought about one of my last conversations with David. After his hooker found out about us, he suddenly became cold and callous. He yelled at me. He told me I'd meant nothing to him. I reminded him of me driving him around and being there for him when he had nothing for nearly 10 years. I told him that I'd loved him more than I'd loved myself. That's when he said to me that if I'd loved him, I'd have put sheets on the bed. To be brief, one morning when we were together, I woke up at 6 in the morning to go get him from work and for some reason, there was no sheets on the bed and he'd complained about it. I was exhausted and didn't care and told him to sleep without them. And now here, he didn't respect me enough just to say, no offense Malika, but I gotta take care of home (which I would have respected, since I was the one that had urged him to marry the disease infested tramp in the first place). The only way he could justify his lack of compassion toward me was the fucking sheets.

I sat back and thanked my lucky stars for finding a man that loves me so much. I literally have to tear myself away from him as we kiss each other goodbye when he leaves for work. I also thanked the heavens that I found a man that loves me for me. Pookie loves me honestly. I never pretended to be someone that I wasn't. I never had to degrade or haggle with his exwife (although, I must admit that my pregnancy hormones didn't always equate to me being lady like all of the time). He is too much of a man to want women fighting over him. He hates conflict in our home. When I'm pissed off and want to shut down, he's the one that tells me to grow up and share what's on my mind. Whenever there was a woman sniffing around him, I urged him to be with her if that's what he chose. But he always came back to me. I'm a woman that loves honestly and it takes a real man to recognize and appreciate that.

I lay my fingers in between Pookie's and squeezed. He squeezed back. His hands were so large and soft, yet manly next to my dainty fingers. He shifted a little and squeezed me further in.

A few days ago, I watched an old episode of Sex and the City and in it, Carrie pissed off her boyfriend, Aidan. I don't remember what the conflict was, but even though he said there was no problem, she could tell that there was because when they were laying in bed, she said there was no "nook." She explained the nook as the part of the man's body by his armpit, where the woman curls up when they cuddle. Him keeping his arms close to himself meant he didn't want to cuddle. I know the nook and I'm a fan of it myself.

I got up for a second and came back to the bed. He was awake by then and stretched his arm out to anticipate holding me when I reentered the bed. Pookie had my nook waiting. And even with no sheets, it was perfect for both of us.

List Days

Goodness only knows that there are many days that I sing the praises of Pookie. He's tall, handsome, strong, dependable, stable, etc. He's what I need on so many days. But there are some days where I have to ask myself if he's truly where I need to be. Sometimes he'll do or say things that remind me of why in the back of my mind we just aren't meant to be together. When that happens, it's like it's just another thing to add to the list of things that make me think that we're on borrowed time.

I love how stable he is. Not just financially, but overall. He's the guy to stick with if you always want the 401k's and good advice on your career. We've got our son well on his way to being fully prepared for school. Pookie has spent many hours helping our son with letters, colors, and numbers. A year ago he could barely speak and now he's pretty much up there with other kids his age. For a happy household, Pookie is where I need to be.

But sometimes I go through things that make me shout in my head all over again that this isn't where I should be. I've learned to compartmentalize, but I feel that doing so isn't fair to anyone involved. The other day, after I'd met with my confused little homegirl, I wanted to bad to vent my frustrations. I called a few of my friends to tell them about my time with old girl and of course they were as shocked as I was. I wanted to hit Pookie and tell him, but I knew that he wouldn't share my outrage, my hurt, my confusion. Instead of driving straight home after my long day with her, instead I drove to the one person that I could vent to. I went to see Him. Despite him being busy doing some cleaning, he took the time to listen do me. He shared my "what the fuck?!" of the whole situation. I could see on his face that he was surprised and saddened about the girl not knowing her history.

I told him that I missed our time together. He said that he agreed that we did share some good times hanging out. Then he looked at me and said "next lifetime?" All I could say was, "do you know that you're the fourth guy to claim my next lifetime? Apparently, dating in my next four lifetimes are gonna be incredible." Seriously, I always meet fantastic guys and somehow miss them because I've got one idiotic boyfriend or another and/or the guys have girlfriends (not that Pookie is an idiot). He laughed and said that still, when we do get our chance, things will be magical.

I love Pookie so much that I want him to be the guy that I share myself with. It's so frustrating to be with the "love of my life" but to feel that I can't always truly open up and be who and what I am. Which goes into another point on the list. I often think that he wants me to be something or someone that I'm not. I've been a free spirit since the day I was born. I can't help it. People love that about me though. I'm so easy going and comfortable in my own skin that even my enemies really want to be my friend. Sometimes I wish that Pookie could look at me and see me for the loving, outgoing, charming woman that I really am. Instead I feel that he often looks at me and sees me for what I'm not. It's amazing how I'd spent so much of my life hating myself that the moment I finally learn to love myself, I've got someone that's trying to tweak me.

Don't get me wrong, he's done a lot of good for me. He showed me that I'm not the fat ass that I thought I was and he's got me wearing better clothes and looking more like a girl. He's helped me to get a career path and he's going to help me get through grad school, the same way he helped me to get through undergrad. But sometimes when my inner hippie emerges, he rolls his eyes. When I make silly jokes, he often doesn't understand that I'm kidding and he looks at me like I'm an idiot. If I say that I don't like a song, a movie, or an artist, he questions my tastes and acts as though I'm an uncouth, uneducated ignoramus. For the record, my cd collection includes Frank Sinatra, Harry Connick Jr, Barry Manilow, Stevie Wonder and many others. Just because I don't like some rap artists does not mean that I'm unaware or unable to appreciate good music. He doesn't like the soundtrack to "Purple Rain" (wtf?!) but I don't judge him based on that. Among my favorite movies is Citizen Kane and Goodfellas. Just because I didn't like "Godfather," that doesn't make me a moron.

When I want to save the world by going above and beyond for my kids and/or I bend over backwards for my friends, he questions me and my motives. He gets annoyed when I drop what I'm doing to help a friend in need. He doesn't quite understand that my friends are my family and that I'll take a bullet for my family. The same friends that he gets annoyed at me for going to pick up when they're stranded, are the same friends that will watch Pumpkin when we're in a crunch and need a sitter. On the other hand, Him would totally understand that and support it. Next lifetime? *sigh*

I've also recognized that while Him is the man that can always satisfy my emotional needs, Fred is the man that can always satisfy me sexually. Although Pookie is undeniably the best lover I've ever had, Fred brings a magnetism to the table that is unlike anything I've ever seen. Fred is so confident and sometimes downright cocky. I've said before that Fred ain't the marryin' type, but sexually, he draws women like a moth to a flame. There's something about his swag, his confidence and his air that make him unstoppable. I've told myself that if I ever get married, I cannot allow myself to be alone with Fred. Seriously, he can go from touching your knee to having your shirt off in 15 minutes. He's calm, cool, sexy. You don't even realize what's going on until your legs are in the air. Although Pookie is the man that I would most likely spend the rest of my life with, sometimes I wish that he had the same fire that Fred has. Fred is so exciting. The last time I saw him, things were suppose to be platonic but when he turns himself on, even the most innocent visit can turn naughty. Needless to say, I only hang with him in groups now that I'm committed.

The irony is that Pookie could totally have the same amount of sexual energy, but he holds himself back. Its like he's afraid to let go, to be vulnerable, to trust and believe in who he is. I believe in him, but until he fully believes in himself, he'll never have what Fred has. Fred knows and believes that he can have any woman he wants, and he does them as he wishes. He's adventurous and exciting. There's nothing he fears intimately and it makes him so desirable. And the women love him for it. I've seen Fred be over arrogant and he was a turn off, but later on, I wanted him just the same.

I want for Pookie to open up and trust in himself. I want him to fully know that he's the love of my life so sexually he can be as confident and open as he wants. I won't judge him, I won't reject him, I won't ridicule him. I just want him to explore himself as deeply as he needs to in order to get past his mental block of imperfection.

If only I could get the stability of Pookie, with the emotional intelligence of Him, and the sexual prowess of Fred, my world would be complete. But I guess I can't. I've got to accept Pookie just how he is. Hopefully, one day, he can do the same thing for me.

Thanksgiving in Paradise- Is This Really My Life?

A little before Halloween, I'd realized that the holidays were coming. I hit my childhood friend and informed her that I planned to cover her home in Christmas lights. She wondered why I'd do such a thing and I told her because I felt like it. Thankfully she knows how I am so she knows to expect a big, light, bright, loud, tacky, over the top display. I even told Fred that I may make him assist me, although he said that sounds too much like "manual labor" for his taste. Good thing I don't really care what he wants.

But amazingly, the closer I got to the holidays, the better things got. I'd started planning on buying gifts, something I wasn't able to do the previous years. I've already bought a few gifts for Pumpkin and Pookie's mom. I'm planning to buy stuff for my homegirls, my family and of course Pookie. Yesterday Pookie made the turkey and the collards, while I knocked out the mac and cheese, stuffing, gravy, and sweet potato souffle. My dad hit me up to ask what we were doing and if we were eating. He asked to come by and I told him truthfully that we hadn't prepared enough for 4 others. He said that he understood and asked if we'd like to host Christmas here at my home, and that he'd supply the food. I told him that I'd be honored. But then I had to run it by Pookie.

Pookie said that he didn't really want the responsibility of cooking and hosting. I grew silent and went out on the patio to sit alone. I didn't mean to. It wasn't the silent treatment. He asked if I was okay and I said yes. I wasn't trying to make him feel bad. It's just that hosting Christmas would be yet another sign that I was finally coming into my own as an adult. He continued to look at my face and he agreed that we could host.

I stayed out on the patio and wanted to share with him how I'd felt. How happy I was. I wanted to hug him and thank him for everything. I just ordered my GRE book to get ready to enter grad school. My son, who was barely verbal this time last year, now talks until I just want to smack him. Pookie, who a year ago I just wanted to walk away from is my boyfriend and we are exclusive. Better yet, we aren't just together because he messed up and he's trying to make amends for his bad behavior. Instead we're on the same page and truly care for one another. It's not uncommon for me to call out to him, "Baby!" when I need his attention. I prayed for a job this time last year and was so disappointed when I didn't get the job I went for back then. Later on I got my current job where I make my own schedule, get to work with kids, and I got inspired to go back to school. Truthfully, if I'd gotten that other job, I imagine that I'd still be there, and that I would be making more than I do now, but I wouldn't have the vision to see as clearly and focused as I do now with my current career path. I wanted to walk up to Pookie and thank him so much for holding me down and loving me when I didn't always love myself.

Later in the evening I walked up behind him and wrapped my arms around him. I thanked him and told him that for the first time in my adult life, I'm so happy. Things are perfect. This is the first time I've looked forward to Christmas since I was 16. For the first time, I feel in control. I've got the most beautiful and wonderful friends and sisters that a girl could ask for. I'm more confident than I've ever been. It's like my dark cloud has lifted and I'm free to love myself and others. I still get irritated, but overall I don't think that I could be shaken. I had to do a lot and shake a lot of folks to get where I am, but I wouldn't change it all for anything.

I'm finally getting where I'm supposed to be.

the future is fucked

I met with one of my kids today. She is a young teenager. I took her to a coffeehouse and I observed the Smokey Robinson playing in the background. I pointed out the ditty and I told her that it was Smokey. She looked at me and said "who?" I looked at her and said "Smokey Robinson?" Again, she said "who?" I grew exasperated.

I started to give her a history lesson on Smokey and the cultural impact that Motown had on segregated America. Then I told her that Stevie Wonder also got his start at Motown. Again she said "who?" Just imagine how perplexed I was by then. I'm not gonna lie, not only am I a music snob, I'm also a major Stevie Wonder fan so I totally didn't understand her. It's like she was speaking Russian to me. So anyway, then I explained to her that Stevie did the song "Happy Birthday" which was responsible in part for garnering support for the creation of a national day of observance for Dr. King's birthday. She then said she recognized the song and asked if he was the same dude that did the song "Cupid Shuffle." *sigh* My soul died just a little by having her ask me DID STEVIE WONDER DO THE SONG CUPID SHUFFLE? What the fuck are kids learning today? I told her no, he didn't do the song. I also discovered that she didn't know who Aretha Franklin is.

Anyway, while talking to her I started to give her a history lesson. I began by telling her about the Black Panther Party. I told her about the brutal murder of Fred Hampton by the Chicago Pigs and how I at one point ran with an organization that was started by his son. I told her how much they did for Oakland and how they went on to have groups all over the country. I told her they were taken down by the government because they were succeeding in getting Black people to flourish and be independent. She called my lesson "boring." I'm sorry, but what the fuck? I may be a lot of things, but I'm far from boring.

Then I started to talk about the protests and marches that happened in Alabama. I explained to her that when you watch the clips of the protests, the people there were children, her age, because their parents weren't able to march because they had to keep their bosses happy, so they didn't want to be on the news marching. I told her that the kids in those clips were hosed, bitten by dogs, tear gassed, and beaten mercilessly. I explained to her that when a lot of those kids were arrested, it wasn't uncommon for some of them to not make it home. I explained to her that pretty little brown girls like her were often raped by old white men and that the law didn't give a shit. Still, she shrugged and called it "boring." I even explained to her that stuff happened only 50 years ago, meaning that her grandmother could be old enough to have witnessed it. She still said it wasn't fascinating at all. I couldn't believe it. I asked her if she knew about Harriet Tubman and she shook her head and said that she didn't know who HE was. She even thought that Harriet Tubman was a dude! *banging head on desk*

Truthfully I wasn't always as into history as I am now, but I'd always cared about the struggles of Blacks. Perhaps it was because I was raised in the 80's on the heels of the end of the Black Power movement. I was named after Malcolm X for God's sake. I remember when the first MLK day was observed. When I was 14, for Christmas I'd asked my mother for a copy of the book "Makes Me Wanna Holler" by Nathan McCall. It was about his struggles as a Black man growing up in this country. It remains one of my favorite books, and when my son hits the same age, I plan to make him read it.

I'd loved the move Panther when it came out. I was about 14 at the time. There is a song on the soundtrack for the movie where Huey Newton was heard saying "We want freedom. We want decent education that teaches us about this racist, decadent system. We want education that teaches us about our true history of our role in the world and society today. We want education, we want justice, we want freedom." And later in the same song "So the concept is this basically. The whole Black nation has to be put together as a Black army. And we're gonna walk on this nation, we're gonna walk on this racist power structure, and we're gonna say to the whole damned government, STICK 'EM UP MUTHAFUCKA! WE COME FOR WHAT'S OURS!" I didn't understand it fully at the time, but I knew overall that my people had been shafted and that some bad ass cats wanted what we were owed. And I may have only been 14 or 15 at the time, but I knew they were speaking some real shit. I knew those lyrics and the whole song by heart. But here, around the same age, she felt it didn't effect her.

I then said out loud that I'd just decided that I'd look through some books and get something about Black history for her. She shook her head and told me not to waste my money because she wouldn't read it. I assured her that it would be good. Again, she shook her head. Then I said to her "look, I wouldn't do this for anyone else, but I'll pay you to read the book. Would you be willing to read a book on Black history if I paid you?" She looked at me and said no. I couldn't believe it. She didn't ask how much. She didn't say maybe. She didn't even think about it. She said no. I asked her again. She shook her head. I asked her to think about my offer. She again said no. My heart ached a little. I was sitting here, talking to a high school aged girl, that refused to read about her own history for MONEY. Do you understand? SHE WOULDN'T READ ABOUT HER OWN HISTORY IF I PAID HER TO DO SO.

There was nothing else to do or say. I told her that it was getting late and that we needed to go. As I drove home, I couldn't help but to focus on that. What the fuck has happened to kids where a girl her age couldn't be convinced to read about the struggles of her own people for money?

I got home and put on the movie "Panther," which I'd coincidentally saved on Netflix about a week ago. I saw a clip of Chairman Fred Hampton Sr. and they played a clip where they portrayed his brutal murder. I thought back on my time with Chairman Fred Jr's organization. I met him a few times and he's an intense dude. The things I did with that organization were so deep that there are still things that I don't tell people about and I never will. I didn't like some things that I saw, but I've got so much respect for what I learned while I was with that organization. Watching the movie, I loved how some of the young characters were willing to lay their lives on the line for the struggle and I remembered how I would have been willing to do the same thing. "Better to die on your feet than live on your knees." While there, we had to learn as much as we could about our history and we went out weekly and fed people. We worked together. We were a team. I hate that things ended when and how they did, but they'll never know how much I learned from them. I've got a few friends that are still involved in the movement. I'm not as involved as I once was, but I still try to support them as much as I can. While many Black people are asleep, there are many grassroots organizations that seek to pick up where the Black Panther Party left off.

So while some teenagers are busy, going to work, trying to fight against the system, other kids only know about Dr. King. I don't know what to do or say right now. I'm hurt. I'm embarrassed for her. I'm pissed at her mother for not talking to her about her history since she was old enough to hear it. I'm frustrated because the reason I studied media in college was so that I could work against the bullshit that the media is dumbing down our kids with. I feel like I'm failing. *sigh* kids are fucked.

Facebook Drama Part Deux

A while back I wrote about my friend that got and accepted a Facebook invite from her husband's mistress. After I warned her, she eventually unfriended her and went on with her life. These days on Facebook, folks are doing the "Send a question to my inbox and I'll answer it on my status" thing. Some of my other friends are posting about how stupid and dangerous it is, and others are theorizing that relationships are bound to be ending over this game. Little do they know that personally, I'm watching a whole different set of issues unfold on there.

Back in high school, my best friend (Julie) was a few years older than me, but she dated a dude that was in my grade (Derek). She and he broke up when she cheated on him. Since then, they've both moved on. She's got kids, he's got kids and they'd fallen into distant memories. On Facebook a while back, I noticed that many of my online friends were going to be attending an engagement party. I looked at the invite and discovered that it was my best friend's ex. She's not on FB, so I passed the info on to her. She told me that she was happy for him and wished him the best.

I later decided to send him an FB invite, after all, we were at one point classmates. To my surprise, he not only accepted the invite, he sent me a message asking how she was doing. I told Derek that Julie was doing well and that she lived in the same house that she'd grown up in. He asked for her number. *Pause* I guess I should have considered the fact that he was engaged, but I took that to mean that he only wanted to get a little closure over his bad breakup from his high school love before he got married. *Resume* I sent him her number and hit her and told her that I'd passed it on. She shrugged.

Derek later called Julie and he agreed to go to her home to catch up. She told me that he showed up with a condom. We know how the story goes from there. Fast forward a month and a half later and they've had sex a few more times. He's since told Julie how unhappy he is with his fiance, and when asked if he still intended to marry her, he'd say that after falling for my friend again, he still wasn't sure. She even tried to tell him to beat it, but he's taken the stance that he's not going anywhere. My girls and I have even considered that perhaps he is trying to get revenge on Julie by making her fall in love, only to harshly dump her with his impending wedding. I've warned her that it's a no win situation. I consider myself a bit of an expert on these kinds of things. She said that it was purely physical on her end, so no harm, no foul. Naturally, I was put on alert to when he may be posting things that have to do with her.

I observed that one day, one of my classmates posted the word "congratulations" on his page. I took note and wondered what it was about, but I figured it had to do with the engagement. I chuckled. A few days later, Julie and our other friend Kathy called me. Kathy asked if I'd seen the congrats notices on his page. I said that I had, but I hadn't taken much notice to it. Kathy said there had also been congrats notes that said things about his expanding family and about Derek expecting another child. Naturally, the three of us girls went into high alert. It was one thing for him and my homegirl to be fooling around, even if he was just unhappy, it was totally different if he was in reality having no desire to leave his fiance because they had an expanding family on the horizon.

I agreed to hit up my classmate to casually ask if Derek and his fiance were expecting a child. She confirmed our suspicions. Since Derek's fiance and I also had a bunch of mutual friends, I also sent her an FB invite. hoping to slide in undetected. It worked. But what I'd found then really surprised me. Apparently the fiance (who at one point had herself listed as his fiance) had herself listed as "single." She'd written something last week about women not having any respect for men in relationships. Uh oh. I texted my squad. She said that she'd have to forgive. She said that she'd have to depend on God because He would never let her down. Hmmm...

Derek kept things cool with Julie. He hadn't said anything was out of the ordinary. Julie, Kathy and I theorized the situation. Perhaps he'd told her about Julie. But if so, what were his reasonings? Did he tell her about my friend, hoping that she'd be heart broken and break up with him so he wouldn't have to man up and do it himself? Had someone told his fiance that they'd seen he and Julie at the home they shared together? I warned Julie that our hometown was really small and close knit and that his particular neighborhood turned out men that considered themselves brothers for life. The women from Derek's neighborhood were close also. That's one of the things I love and hate about the area that I'm from. Most of the people that grew up that way don't move too far away so there isn't much that goes undetected.

But then it got a bit deeper. I looked at Derek's page again and noticed that a different girl had posted something on his page, thanking him for making her pregnant. She promised to be a great wife to him and mother to his child. A short while later, the fiance posted a tagged ultrasound pic of their baby on his page. WTF?! TWO women pregnant by Derek, while he's banging out Julie at the same time? Again, I texted the ladies. Since Kathy has a page, I told her to go to his page and what to look at. I also gave her my log in info so that she could further dissect the fiance's page.

So basically, through FB, my friend linked back up with her engaged exboyfriend. Through FB we then learned that his fiance is pregnant. And through FB learned about potential another potential woman as well. And, this, my friends is why so many people avoid Facebook like the plague. I often hear it referred to as "the devil." Well, both FB and Twitter are referred to that way. I've cranked back up my Twitter usage, which is cool, but I digress.  Facebook has again reared it's ugly head and put a bunch of people's business out. So while everyone else is doing this question and answer bullshit, I'm watching some real shit unfold. All for my best friend of course. Maybe it's safe to say that nothing is wrong with FB.  Derek and the other none-careful idiots like him are the real problem.

Growing Up and Moving On

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Lies About My Vagina

So we've moved. Changing apartments has had a wonderful impact on us. We're arguing less, we're working with one another more. We've discovered one another in ways that we've never known before. Its been a few months now and its like we're on some kind of twisted honeymoon. We even lay down, going to sleep at the same time.

During one of our recent afternoon naps, as he held me, he asked a few intimate questions. He asked about my sexual past, partners and all. He asked who my first was and I told him that it was my ex, David. He asked about who the best lovers were. I honestly told him that he's been the best, but that David and Fred were in the top 3. I told him a little more about Fred and my purely sexual attraction to him. It was kind of relieving telling Pookie about him, because I'd been feeling that Fred was a dirty secret for so long, that it felt good to come clean about it.

Pookie then asked another question. He asked if I'd ever had a train run on me. I told him no. He told me not to be embarrassed and asked again. Again, I said no and that there was no embarrassment, because there was no train. Pookie then said "well, that's not what I heard." I couldn't help but to laugh. I asked who said that mess, and he refused to answer, but he didn't have to. I know that it was yet another hater that disliked me. Pookie then asked if I'd had sex with two guys that were homies at the same time. Again, the answer was no. I even admitted to him that I'd met Fred through another guy and I never got down with that guy because I'd gotten down with Fred first. He asked if I'd had sex with a few guys that were in the same crew. No. Had I had sex while one guy was in the house and later had sex with his same friend who was in the house. NO! As much as he tried to get me to own up to it, there simply was no orgy, no trains, no being the neighborhood bicycle to a bunch of musicians in the same group.

He claimed that he'd heard all kinds of wild stories about my past and how I'd dated all kinds of musicians in Atlanta. I told him that although I did date a lot of musicians, the fact was that I was dating David most of the time so sexually he was the primary one that got any action below the belt. I'd actually told him that I'd even just blogged about it here.

The strange thing is that this is actually the THIRD time that I've known someone to lie about my sexual history. A guy that I kicked it with briefly a few years ago told me that my former roommate/best friend had told him that some guy I dated told her that the sex with me was bad. That was untrue for a few reasons.
1) The men that I date and get down with are more respectful than that and they wouldn't dish dirt on me like that.
2) As a rule, I tend to keep my guys away from my friends. The men that I date have little to no exposure to my girlfriends and that is intentional. So there was only one man that I'd dated that she knew.
3) The only man that I'd dated who she had access to will tell you that I WAS OFF THE CHAIN. I pleased that man and made his toes curl to the point that he was calling me even after I'd given birth to another man's baby.
4) If a man just had to say that the sex with me was bad, I highly doubt he'd tell it to someone that touted herself as my best friend.
and
5) IT AIN'T TRUE! Not to toot my own horn, but I gets down with the get down. Any man that's ever kept company with me like that will tell you that I'm fun, sensual, adventurous, and I aim to please. There is only one sexual experience that I've ever had that was bad was due to the fact that the dude had a bunch of emotional issues. Other than that, I'm a total minx. ;)

The other moment where someone lied about me and my precious vaj is when my ex's baby mama (thank God for restraining orders) had the gall to tell him that she didn't believe that he was my first. She said that based on the fact that a week later, I had sex with the guy that was my actual boyfriend. Basically, I cheated on my boyfriend at the time and lost my virginity to David. I had sex with my actual boyfriend later. So somehow in her warped mind, that equated to me lying. David even questioned me about it, based on me having sex with him later. Um, sorry folks, lord knows I wish I could have changed it, but David was my first. Ick. It's crazy how a bitch that wasn't even the damned state at the time could claim to know what was going on with my private parts, but I guess that's just how sought out my va jay jay is.

And now yet another fool is out there spreading lies about things going on with me and my lady area. It doesn't really surprise me though. That wasn't even the first time he'd accused me of lying about my history (here for reminders on that one). I've always been sensuous and I've always been seen as a free spirited and ditsy individual so many people have equated that with me being free and loose with the part of my body that I have titled "Girlfriend." I told Pookie that despite what he's heard and despite what he'd like to think, Girlfriend isn't free or willy nilly at all. Sure, I've had my moments of casual experiences, and most of them I would not take back, but I'm a tad more conservative sexually than many people expect. Sure, with the basics, I'm a pro at doing what men want and need, but I'm not the chick to be fucking a whole football team or a band, or a guy just because he says he's a rapper or producer.

I guess that ,again, I'll just have to accept that lies are a part of comes with greatness. And God, Pookie, Fred, and only handful of other men know how great Girlfriend really is.

Generational Changes

A homegirl of mind had a profound thought recently. She observed that most of the women she knew her age had very strained or nonexistent relationships with their mothers. My friend theorized why women of our generation (Generation X) didn't get along so well with our mothers. She said that she believes that the older generation resents our freedom.

That was undeniably one of the most thought provoking things I'd ever heard. How right she was. My friend remarked how when our mothers were younger, females were expected to be docile and to go along with the flow. They were not allowed to ask questions.They took what was handed to them and were taught to be thankful, whether it was gentle or brutal. Our mothers were raised at a time when young girls were expected to be seen and not heard. They couldn't complain if they wanted to. Their mothers weren't Claire Huxtable or Carol Brady. Our grandmothers raised our mothers with the same harsh reality that they too had faced as children.

Our mother's generation was the first where women were beginning to practice any freedom. For those women that were single mothers, unless the husband died, the woman was seen as something was wrong with her. In the 60's and 70's women didn't leave their husbands. It simply wasn't heard of. It didn't matter if he beat her, cheated on her and had children all over the place, women were expected to stay put. And if a man left her with children, well then it was her fault for being loose to begin with. If she'd cooked and cleaned and shut her mouth the way a woman was expected to, he'd be there to pay the bills and beat her and the kids, just the way a man was expected to. Women that left or resisted abusive men were nagging and selfish. Women that fought against the system were labeled and outcast.

Women slowly came into their own. They began to actively get more involved in their own educations and get into the workforce, either out of necessity or sheer desire to do so. Women that were single and/or working mothers dealt with the stigma of being judged and being ridiculed, but they did it regardless. Along with their freedom, came changes for girls of our generation. We were the first generation of latch key kids. We raised ourselves on microwave dinners and MTV.

Eventually our generation came to resist the same pressures that our mothers gave way to. We wore what we want. We only allowed our mothers so much input, because truthfully, we'd done it largely on our long for so long. Our mothers didn't (or don't) understand us. We're loud, brash, proud, and independent. We have options they never had. Birth control can come in the form of a shot, implant, or pill and no one would be the wiser. Abortions were only a few hundred dollars and a clinic visit away. If you didn't want to visit your family, you had legitimate reasons. You hear words like "slut" and "bitch" so often that the labels denote little more than a shrug from most of us. Who gives a damn if your mom is mad because she doesn't like your boyfriend, your major in college, the way you dress, or your career choice?

Truthfully, she cares. When she was your age she couldn't just dodge the bulleted questions by her mother. If she chose to do as she wanted, she had to at least listen to the nagging, questions, and insinuations. Women our age tune it out. We raised ourselves for so long, who wants to listen to the older generation, which has now slowed and is now able to dole out advice?

They're surprised to find that we're outgoing and free. They want us to humble ourselves and lower our heads to them. They resent that we can collectively live the lives that they've always wanted, but they don't understand that they raised us this way. They  raised us to be the women they'd always dreamed of being. And now they resent us for it.

Compartments

Today I talked to a homeboy about Pookie and about Fred. I told him that I love Pookie with all my heart and that I feel that I'm doing something wrong. Even though Fred and I don't see one another on a regular basis and he and I aren't intimate anymore, I still think fondly back on our time together. I told my friend how I'm torn. Pookie is undeniably the man I want to spend the rest of my life with. So why do thoughts of Fred still creep up? Despite our bond, he and I have never even remotely entertained being married. Not even being in a moderate relationship. When we go out, it's not even a date, it's two friends getting together for drinks.

Anyway, my  homie said that Fred is someone that I have strong physical feelings for. He told me that I'd have to remember to put them in their correct compartments and remember that they aren't close to interchangeable. It amazed me when he'd said it because even though it was quite obvious, I'd never thought of it that way. My friend reminded me that Pookie is all I talk about, dream about, and plan my life around. My friend said that although Fred and I had a good time, Pookie is the center of my world. More importantly, my friend made me feel okay with it. He reminded me that most people have folks that they lust over. It's just that Fred and I were able to act on our desires at one point in time.

My friend reminded me that Fred was just a friend/fling. He's someone that I'll always cherish, but he's not my life. He's not the father of my child. He's not the man I cook for. He's not the man I imagine spending the rest of my life with. He's also not the man I run downstairs to greet at the door with a kiss, because I'd missed him so much. Yes, Fred is Fred. Fred is hot. But Fred is no Pookie.

New Relationships

So after a lot of going back and forth, Pookie and I have decided that we will (again) be committed to one another. It's been about 2 months now and so far so good. I'd waited for this so long that truthfully, it's very surreal. We have typical couple struggles and whatnot. I guess I'm still just a little sensitive from our long crazy past, but I love the fact that as a couple, we have managed to continue to work on us. Some days I wouldn't mind marrying him. Truthfully, some days I wouldn't mind walking away.


I'm not going to lie, Fred is on the brain hard core. The last time I saw him, things were so good. We laughed and he held me. I listened to his heart beat. It reminded me of when he and I used to fool around. There was no Pookie, no Pumpkin and no responsibility. But he and I are different now. The funny thing is that realistically, Fred and I couldn't be together anyway. Frankly, he ain't the marryin' kind. But that doesn't stop me from day dreaming.

So back to Pookie. I love him. He puts up with a lot from me as I learn to let go of my insecurity and I slowly work to rebuild my trust in him. Sometimes we talk about getting married. Seriously. But I've told him that if it happens, it'll be by the time he's 30 in another year and a half. I don't know, it's all a big question mark.

The Circle

*Just to let yall know, I’ve put a lot of folks business out in this particular post, so I’m changing the names of dang near everyone.*



A while ago, I attended an event called Green House. It’s pretty much an event where people get together in Piedmont Park and house music is played and folks dance the day away. It’s one of those events where you’re going to see a bunch of regulars from the music scene here in Atlanta. I took my homegirl, Sheryl, with me to join in the festivities. I didn’t get to do much dancing because I’d brought my son with me and he was cutting up, but Sheryl walked around and got to meet some folks.

Aside from Sheryl, my friends Kylie and Fred were also in attendance. I looked at Kylie and asked if the little chick with the blonde hair was Ms. C and she responded yes. A few of the other the old homies were in attendance as well.

While in the car on the way back, Sheryl (who is bi-sexual) told me that some other chick hit on her by offering to wipe the sweat off of her boobs. Even though Sheryl is married with kids, she was shocked at how openly the woman hit on her in front of the lady’s husband. While Sheryl’s husband knows about her lifestyle, she said that she’d never disrespect him by hitting on another woman in his presence. It was clear that Sheryl was really shocked by the other woman’s open aggression and sexual advances. I told Sheryl that’s pretty much how the scene is and that damned near everyone there is somehow sexually related to everyone else there.

As I started to explain some of the history with her, I realized that we’re all just a big old ball of dating and sexual experience. I actually shared my findings with my friend Greg this evening and when he thought about it, he was a bit surprised at how right I really was. It's like the unwritten and unspoken thing. It's not uncommon to see some dude you used to get down with, rolling in the club with some other chick you've seen from around the way. It's never really awkward (which is kinda strange in itself). We all just accept that the other person has moved on (just as you already have) and y'all just remain homies. Daisy and I have accepted that although we don't know for sure, there's a chance that we've both at some point bedded the same guy. Of course we would never consciously go after the same guys now, but who knows what's happened before we'd ever really thought about it.

I started the story by explaining to Sheryl that I’d met Sky (another homeboy) through a guy I (regrettably) kicked it with named Iz. I saw Iz one night at a Kelsy Davis show and he and Sky needed a ride home. That same show is also where I'd first seen Divinity Roxx (who is now Beyonce's bassist) perform. She's really good, even as a solo artist, by the way. Anyway, Sky and I were instant homies, which Iz didn’t like so he did everything he could to make me not want Sky. He told me he was a virgin (yeah, right) and that he was a super Christian so I didn’t have a shot in hell. Despite Iz’s attempts, Sky and I became thick as thieves. I’d actually met Fred initially through Iz, because Fred was his roommate, although we never really spoke at the time (although I did think he was a hottie even then). Sky and I were actually so close that he and I used to sleep in bed together. Folks swore we were having sex, but the fact is that Sky and I never even kissed. When I got pregnant, I must have been asked about 6 times if the baby was his. Folks thought he was gay (he isn’t) and that I was gay (I’m not) and that we must be having some kind of freaky sexual encounters together (we didn’t).

Later at a show Sky was having, I met Kylie and Daisy. After Kylie and I met, at another show, I saw her talking to a guy that I’d seen playing guitar at a show Ms. C (the blonde chick from the party) was having. I asked Kylie about him and she told me that he was “good” so I should go for it and she introduced us. His name was George. George and I hung out a few times, and he brought his homie Fred with us. One night George had to leave early, leaving Fred and I alone. While I hadn’t slept with anyone else from the scene (including George), that night when Fred kissed me, my panties melted off and we began having a sexual relationship that summer that was unmatched. George and I stayed friends and one night at my home, we got really close, but I couldn’t do it because I’d already slept with a friend of his. I didn’t tell George my reasons for declining him until a few years later.

Anyway, Kylie, who had kicked it with George, had also kicked it with Sky, back in the day. Sky also dated Ms. C. The night I met Kylie, when we talked about the many things we’d had in common, I admitted to her that I once dated the guy that hosted Sunday nights at a local poetry spot. That’s when she told me that he was her ex. There is also the time that I found out that the guy I kissed at Roderick’s party (good old Spin the Bottle), Raphael, was dating Daisy at the time, which helped solve the mystery of why she stopped our kiss (I didn’t find that out until our day trip to Helen, Georgia with Fred and Roderick in the car). Awkward moment it was when we talked about that…

On to others, at one point, Sky dated a girl that he really liked name Charmaine. Sky, the eternal bachelor, really liked her and was actually thinking about being exclusive with her. Sky and Charmaine came to a party of mine together. That night, Charmaine met Fred. Sky told me he wasn’t comfortable about the whole thing and that he didn’t trust Fred. I assured him that Fred was cool and that he didn’t mean any harm. Two months later, Fred and Charmaine were dating and Sky and Charmaine were barely speaking. I actually hung out with Fred and Charmaine and a few other friends at the Southern Comfort Music Festival one night while I was pregnant. To Fred’s credit, when he and I met for coffee a few weeks ago, while I laughed about him swooping up Charmaine, he said that he didn’t know that she and Sky had been a “thing” the night they met.

The circle actually gets A LOT wider, but I’m not going to bore you with the details. Not only that, I’m running out of fake names to give the participants. Now, I can honestly say that not everyone was actually having sex. A lot of people thought I was getting around, but the fact is that I was primarily sleeping with only one person who wasn't on the scene, so I settled for innocent dates with the guys I came across. Some people just dated and hung out. Some people were in relationships (although honestly, not many). Despite the kookiness, I love those folks (some of them, at least) more than they’ll ever know. The creative energy and love that is emitted when the room is filled with those people is unmatched. We may be a giant cesspool of freaky intermingling, but those people helped me to hone my social skills and helped to show me that being a free loving spirit is cooler than I ever thought it could be. I’ve also learned that sometimes you just want to get your rocks off, and if you find someone that helps you feel good about yourself and your sexual independence, then there’s nothing wrong with it. I love myself. And I love my cesspool.

Billy

I don't really know how I know Billy Fields. He worked at The Junkman's Daughter, a funky, kitchy little store located in Little 5 Points in Atlanta, Georgia. Little 5, as it is affectionately called, is the epicenter of coolness in Atlanta. It's the place where all of the kids that were never really cool come to hang out and bond. We're former nerds and outcasts turned hipsters. There aren't many days when I walk around there and don't see someone that I know. Either I'll be walking down the street and run into them, or I'll visit the many shops that I'm a regular and tell them hello. Anyway, I don't remember exactly meeting him. I just remember him always greeting me at the store. He had long locs, a soft voice and a gentle spirit. Those boot cut pants and his funky style made him blend, while always making him stand out.

One day I walked around another shop where I'd heard music that called out to me. I asked the sales girl who it was playing. They told me that it was a group called Seek. Then she told me that Billy who worked in Junkman's Daughter was in the group. I was in heaven. About a year later, they dropped another album, which I quickly copped. It remains among my favorites.

 (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XHS-KCLxj7w)
*check it out*

A little later Billy started a band called Rev Rebel which also great music. Atlanta being as small as it is, he and I always ran into one another and I tried to make it out to see him whenever I could.

Although he and I didn't see each other much later, we still managed to stay in touch with one another through Facebook. I remember how last summer he kept calling me a murderer as I complained about feeling bad for having to cook live crabs to eat them. I laughed as he kept saying how good murder must taste.

The other day I noticed a post on Facebook where Billy thanked everyone for their well wishes and said that he was doing okay. I got ready to shoot him a message asking what happened, when he posted that he'd been shot when four kids tried to rob him the previous Sunday. He then felt it necessary to mention that the punks didn't get his money. My heart sank. Not Billy. He's such a good guy. For the 8 or 9 years that I've known him, I've never known him to be in a bad mood. We always joked with one another. He's too nice for that to happen to him. I asked if it was okay with him if I came visit and he said that he'd love to see me.

I went down to see him yesterday at Grady Memorial Hospital and they said that he'd just gotten wheeled into the o.r. and wouldn't be available for another few hours. I asked the nurse how he was doing and she said that he was doing great and in great spirits. I decided to go down today again. Before I went down I decided to Google him to see what I found. When I heard that he'd been shot initially, I thought he'd been hit in the shoulder or in the leg. Online, I learned that he'd been hit in the jaw and that some of his teeth had been knocked out, his tongue was slightly hit, and that the bullet went into his cheek but came out of his jaw. My dear friend Billy had been shot in the head. Oh my God.

I knew that I needed to go see him, but I just kept thinking to myself that I hoped I didn't cry. He'd just had plastic surgery was all I knew. How bad would he look? I didn't know. I asked a neighbor if they'd watch Pumpkin while I drove on down to Grady. I got there today and I walked around looking for him.I walked past a few rooms and saw a guy that looked kinda similar then I kept moving. I looked down at my name tag, which held his room number and realized that I was in the right room. Oh my gosh, I didn't even recognize him. I was immediately happy that at least they didn't cut his locs, which I was afraid they would. His faced was so swollen on top of such a frail body. His eyes were closed and he seemed peaceful. It shocked me a little because he looked dead.

There was a woman in there with him. I asked if he'd been asleep long. She explained that he wasn't asleep but the swelling in his face made it easier for him if his eyes remained closed. He wiggled his finger to let me know he was lucid. I admitted to him that I was fighting back tears. He raised  his finger to his face and rubbed it down is cheek from his eye, to tell me not to dare. I knew that my Billy wouldn't want me to be upset. Her name was Camryn and she was his roommate. She and I made chitchat and occasionally talked to him as well. He would sometimes grunt to express agreement or not at what we'd said. I told him that his friends were busy raising money for him and I warned him not to go to Vegas to blow the whole thing. I told him that if he blew it, don't do it gambling, use it on strippers instead. I saw a very slight smile come across his swollen lips.

She and I talked a little more. I was so amazed looking at him. He was so fragile. His eyes remained closed for most of the time, except for about 2 seconds when they opened and he managed to look at me. I waved. He waved back. I was glad that his eyes were closed because I really did have to fight back tears at one point. It was so close. A few inches in another direction and he'd be gone. No more Billy. I managed to shake it off. I told him that we'd have to hang out when he got out. I said that we'd have to go to the park when he comes home. He raised his finger in agreement. I also asked if he was getting the good painkillers and again i saw his agreement finger. Eventually a woman came to the room and told Camryn and I that visiting hours were over. I offered her a ride home since she'd said earlier that her car was having problems. I looked at Billy and told him that normally I'd kiss him, but I was petrified of giving him an infection, so I chose not to. I kissed my hand and touched his leg. He then reached up and gave me what the nation now calls a "fist bump" a la Michelle and Barack Obama. He held Camyrn's hand.

When I dropped her off, she marveled at renovations that had been done to their home that friends of their had donated to them. I went in to see them as well. It was just more proof how how loved his is. On the way home I couldn't help but to think of Pookie. What on earth would I do if that had been him. What if I'd gotten a phonecall that he'd been shot? I don't think I could stand to see him like that.

Last night, Pookie told me that he'd like for me to be more affectionate toward him when he gets home. I can see why he asked it of me. There are days when he comes home and I'm short with him. Last night when he got home, he asked questions about my day and I answered them all with one word. Its nothing personal, I just feel that most people probably don't want to be crowded over when they come home. Other times I'm just pissed or in a funky mood and really don't want to be bothered. But something tells me that tonight is going to be different. I'm going to hug him and kiss him and tell him how much I love him. I'm going to tell him that I think we should quit beating around the bush and just tied the damned knot already. I'm going to tell him that I love him even though I don't always show it. Billy would want that.

Day 30: One Last Moment

I can't really think of any more "moments" that are worth sharing, but instead I think I'll instead focus on this blog challenge and what it's meant to me. I had to really think about myself and in some instances I purposely glossed over issues for not wanting to delve into them. This has helped me to explore myself and think a little deeper. Toward the end I wasn't able to focus on this every day the way that I should have, but I enjoyed it the same. Thanks for reading!

Day 29: My Aspirations

Being as preoccupied with death as I am, I often focus and reflect on my life. Honestly, almost daily I imagine that if I died at that moment in time, how would people remember me? Who would be the most upset at my funeral? Would my services be crashed by people that know they have no business being there? How would Pookie react? How would my sisters and my mother react? Would people that have fucked me over feel guilty?

Sorry, I got on a bit of a tangent there. Anyway, being that I focus on my death, I like to focus on my life as well. When I think about my life, I think about where and how I want it to go. I aspire to one day be able to help others through the media. I hope to become an Oprah or Michael Baisden type of character. One of my next major projects is to write a book teaching life skills to teens. Wish me luck.

Day 28: Something I Miss

I miss my cat Hewi so much. I miss how we'd fight. I miss how he'd sit on my clothes. I miss how he understood me. I miss how fat he was. I miss his white fur. I miss hearing him meow. Sometimes I want to get another cat, but I know that the cat will never be like Hewi. Hewi was one of my very best friends. I miss my cat. :(