Magic Numbers

I don't know how the topic came up this evening, but somehow Pookie and I got to discussing our magic numbers. Being one for total honesty (even thought it appears to work against me more often than not), I told him. He looked at me and said "bullshit." I looked him in his eye and swore on my child's head that I was telling him the truth. That's when he told me that he'd heard that I'd been quite wild in my old days. I admitted to him that I had, in fact dated a lot of men, but by no means did all of them make it to my promised land.

Pookie and I, while we didn't roll in the same circles, we did run in circles that in some ways intersected. We knew of some of the same people. Some people I knew quite well and he'd only met in passing, and vice versa. Anyway, he claims that he'd heard my name linked to quite a few guys. I told him that I was flattered to be linked with so many guys, but that really wasn't the case.

The funny thing is that this isn't the first time he'd said something like that. The first time was during a heated argument, so I figured he'd only said it to piss me off at the time (mission accomplished). But now that we were cool, I couldn't figure out where this would be coming from. I asked him to tell me what he'd heard and of course he declined.

Its funny that the issue of men lying about sex actually came up earlier today. I'd hung out with the hot guy from my birthday party and he told me that he'd gotten down with a homegirl of mine back in the day. I wasn't mad that she'd gotten down with him, I was moreso mad that he told me about it after she'd clowned him for being a cornball after she took care of him when he had some dental work done. I told myself that I wouldn't ask her about it, but like every other time I advise myself not to do something, I did it anyway. I hit her up and asked. The funny thing is that she and I are just alike, and she was so open on the phone, that I highly doubted she was lying. Which means that perhaps he was lying instead. I chalked it up to him being doped up from the dental procedure, and not him being a douchebag. But then I was reminded of another guy I'd known back in the day who told me he got down with a homegirl. I asked her about it, and in fact, my guy friend was lying. So perhaps men do lie about who they're geting it from.

I again insisted to him that my number was accurate. And again Pookie accused me of lying. He said that for my number to be accurate, I'd only had sex with about one person per year since I'd started having sex at 17 with David. I quickly did the math in my head and said "yeah, I guess so." Again, he called "bullshit."

According to his sources, I'd been all over the club scene. I admitted to him that yes, I dated a lot of guys, but honestly many of them were quite unfuckable. Some were too anxious, some were just assholes, some I didn't really connect with, one came by my house and THAT was when he told me he had a girlfriend, I remember one being coked up (and I suspect another of being the same way), and a multitude of other reasons. The funny thing is that most of the men I'd slept with came before I even became a club girl.

For some reason, Pookie refuses to believe me. He doesn't believe that most of the men I dated were never in the club scene like that. Many of them were just regular Joes that I'd met in various ways. I had to remind Pookie that between him, who I've been with for nearly 4 years, my ex David, who I was with for 10 years, and my ex Sebastian, who I was with for a year and a half, I haven't really had a reason to pursue many new men. Still, he maintained that I was lying. Pookie said that he should multiply my number by 3 to get the actual number. Despite me telling him that we've only randomly run into one guy that I've ever been with, he swears that many of the men that I hug and embrace when we're out must be people that I've screwed.

Like many other issues in my life, I took to Facebook to vent about it. That's when my cousin chimed in, so I texted her the number. That's when she responded with "if (the number) is high, then I'm a whore." I laughed and started to feel a lot better.

While I'd always known that I wasn't the slut that many people would like to think, to have Pookie think that I must be lying and then have my cousin tell me that she'd stopped counting made me feel a hell of a lot better. I'm feeling so good, I might just go put my magic number on a t-shirt. I'm not so easy after all, so why not flaunt it?

Life Begins at 30!

I have no idea why even many of the simplest things in my life have to be so complicated. Needless to say, even something like my 30th birthday and party had to be that much harder. I was going to write a post about the fun and shenanigans of my bday, and I still might, but for now I think I'll just focus on the reflection of such a momentous day.

Anyway, stuff has been crazy. As a grown woman (teehee!) I've learned not to measure the progress of my life on the progress of my relationship. I can't say that I don't understand a woman that does it, because I did it for so long, but I now know that the true measure of my progress is how I feel about myself and my life, not whether or not I'm fighting with Pookie. One day I talked to one of Pookie's friends and he related our situation to that of his deceased mother when he said that he'd learned that people sometimes love you in their own way. How true that is. I know that Pookie loves me and that's good enough for me. He also knows that I love him.

Either way, I'm not going to wait decades on end hoping to get married to him or anyone else. I've known far too many women that sit around and judge my relationship with him. The fact is, my whole freaking life I've been the object of rumors and speculation. I've kind of realized that oftentimes in life, the women that are talked the most about are the most envied. A woman that I used to work with at Pizza Hut made my life hell because she constantly scrutinized and criticized me. Years later, I realized that her criticism came because she felt that I'd broken all of the rules that she felt she wasn't allowed to. I partied, I was popular and outgoing, I was social, I was loved, I was an individual and I was comfortable in my own skin. So that fat woman with a Jheri curl and job that she hated, soon learned to hate me as well because I was young, independent and happy. Sadly, that hatred follows me as other women look at me and wish that I as miserable as they are, but that simply isn't the case. I don't do anything that anyone else couldn't do. Anyone can loc their hair (I seriously do not understand why other women are so afraid to), anyone can learn to be flirtatious (I've thought about offering classes on how to flirt with men), anyone can go to school. Seriously, I don't do anything that other women can't do. So why hate me for loving myself and my flaws? Are other women honestly so insecure and feeling so tied down what they resent those of us that comfortably live our own lives to the fullest?

Crazily enough, as I think about approaching relationships that don't involve Pookie, the more men I meet. While I talk about some of many the guys I've kicked it with, I'm not nearly as slutty as some would like to believe. Quite the contrary. The fact is that I'm such a cerebral person that not many men measure up to what it takes emotionally and mentally for me to sleep with them, even on a casual level. Yes, I have been surrounded by beautiful men, but the overwhelming majority have been just friends. Oftentimes people want to assume that I'm screwing my guy friends, but those are just petty people doing and thinking petty things. I don't even bother to try to explain to some folks what my relationship is with my guy friends, because much like everything else in my life, its none of their damned business.

Speaking of petty, my best friend Portia told me at my party that my stalker actually emailed her and attempted to do it anonymously (just like my stalker comes on here anonymously). I laughed my ass off when I heard it. Apparently my stalker thinks that Portia is simple enough to be swayed by compliments of her commercial and her beloved father, Fred "ReRun" Berry. Portia was kind of weirded out, but I thought it was hilarious. I actually enjoy my stalker doing such stupid things as that because when she does it proves that I'm not making it up when I talk about what a fucking ignorant cunt she is (hi chloe you pill popping hooker!!)

Anyway, I talked to another guy friend of mine recently (hey, I can't help being popular). My homie was going through it. He was frustrated about his life and where he feels he should be at the age of 40. That's when I told him that my dad started grad school when he was 40. Dad had been on drugs for nearly half of his life and when he stopped using, and one of the first things he did was go back to school. It's nearly 20 years after that and dad is still clean and sober and he's since got his Ph.D. as well. My father has served as an inspiration for me in a lot of ways. I've heard a lot of shit in my life about how long it took for me to get my degree, but the fact is that my degree is something that no amount of petty gossip can ever take away from me. Honestly, the only folks that ever open their mouth about how long it took me don't even have degrees. Seriously, I've heard 3 or 4 people make snide remarks about it and not ONE of them had a degree. I guess it shows you how jealousy really is, huh? Now when I'm talking to my kids or even their parents who are going through a lot of mess, I let them know that I, Malika, was able to go to school after having a mom that hated me, sisters that bullied me, a boyfriend that abused me, and hating myself for so long. I can always recognize that gleam in someone's eye when I tell them the story about myself and my dad and they think to themself "maybe I can do it too!"

So many people look at my job and love the fact that I've got so much flexibility in my schedule. I let them know that my DEGREE (that lil' old 10 year piece of paper) is what got me my job. I often tell people that if they go get theirs as well, they can have the same amount of happiness that I have. I talked to another one of the guys trying to get at me, and he and I talked about how when you're in the field of social work, you can make as much or as little money as you want. There are so many people that do what I do and make a damned good living doing it. My dad is urging me to get licensed so that I can become a counselor and begin my own practice. I'd really like to do that. While I love the boys that I work with too, I feel a tad closer to the girls I work with because I was them for so long. If I get licensed, I can write books and be more specific about my clientele.

Dad tells me that once I get a license, I can pull in close to $200k a year. Little does he know that I'm not in it for the money, I do it because working with children and families is what I love to do. As long as I make enough to take care of me and my family, who gives a rat's rump about the pay? Only someone that's looking to fulfill an empty void would work a job they hate to make $50k. Why make so little when you can make a small fortune following your natural calling?

Anyway, on a slight tangent, Pookie was away from my birthday party because he ended up being called in to work. I wasn't too upset though. I ended up having another date that night instead (yes, it was a separate guy. Hey, when you're as charismatic as I am, men are drawn to you. Call it a gift and a curse.) I'm not gonna say my date's name (freaking nosy haters are making it hard for me to say names on here) but he treated me like a princess and made sure I had a blast. He held my hand and complimented my adorable dress the whole night. My birthday date reminded me once again of how a man should make a woman feel. The fact that he's a total hottie and makes my heart jump didn't hurt either. The funny thing about him is that we have an amazing sexual chemistry, but I'd never pursue a relationship with him because we're so different. So I've gladly accepted having a flirtatious relationship with yet another good looking man. I saw my homegirls drooling over him the whole night and I honestly don't blame them. He is FINE! :)

So anyway, the age of 30 has taught me that petty women are going to continue to be petty. But as long as I'm comfortable with who I am, the genuine people are going to stick by me, and the insecure gossipmongers are going to continue to have something in my life to harp on, whether it has anything to do with them or not.

I'm Malika, I love myself, and I'm 30. Who wouldn't want to be me?

Friends Ignoring Malika's Advice: Part 2

For some very odd reason, I've become the voice of reason in the love lives of a lot of my friends. Perhaps its the fact that I genuinely give a damn or the fact that I've gone through hell and back and I have no problem sharing what I've learned about love. Perhaps its that I dole out advice to my kids as part of my career. Whatever it is, I've become quite comfortable in my role as a wisecracking mother hen with a take-no-prisoners type of attitude and my friends love me for it.

Well anyway, I'd talked a while ago about my homie, Sherita. Sherita has some kind of "thing" going with Pookie's cousin, whom I'll call "Daniel." Sherita and Daniel dated back in the day and truthfully, she didn't put her best foot forward in their long distance relationship, so Daniel ended up with a girlfriend who is a nutty as squirrel shit. Daniel does, in fact, still carry a flame for Sherita, but him living near Macon, Georgia (nearly 2 hours away from us in Atlanta) makes it hard for him to pursue things with her. But then there's also other stuff.

Enter the conversation that Sherita and I had over pizza a few nights ago. She again said how much she desires to be with him and how at times she feels that he's going to eventually marry her.*Shaking my head* I told Sherita point blank that it's not going to happen and she'd do better to go back to the drawing board, rather than hang on, the way I'd done before. Now it's not that I dislike Daniel. Quite the contrary, he's a really good dude. The problem is that in order to move to Atlanta, Daniel would have to break up with his girlfriend, transfer both of his jobs, find a new place to live, and separate himself from his mother who he still lives with.

I wish that I could easily describe Daniel's attachment to his mother. Man. Oh man. To call her controlling would be a vast understatement. I'm gonna call her "Mama." Mama and I have talked on several occasions about various issues. She's a really smart and head strong woman. She's also crazy as hell. During one of our conversations, we'd talked about her mortality and I shared with her that I'd told Pookie that if anything ever happened to her, I'd gladly let Daniel stay with us. That's when she told me that no, Daniel was not allowed to move to Atlanta if anything happened to her, he'd have to stay with relatives in their small town or relatives in South Carolina. Do you understand what I just said? Mama plans to control her son who is now close to 30 even when she's DEAD. How the hell could Sherita compete with her while she's alive?

So of course, I told Sherita to count her losses and cut the strings from Daniel. The man is simply not going to leave both of his jobs, his girlfriend, and his extremely controlling mother to move to a new city and wife her. If she won't let him move to Atlanta when she's dead, she sure as hell won't let him go while she's alive. It is simply not going to happen. But like many others, Sherita chooses to ignore the obvious.

And then there's my friend "Keisha." Keisha and I go back some years and she's a true sweetheart. Keisha used to date a well known rapper out of Atlanta. I mean major. I can't say his name, but let's just say that he's done all of the major media outlets such as 106 & Park and if you listen to hiphop radio stations, you've bobbed your head to some of his music. She and her ex got pretty hot and heavy but he eventually broke her heart. They stayed close though, even after he blew up. Anyway, she and I linked up recently and she told me that she thought she might be pregnant. I asked her about the father and she admitted that he is the road manager of her ex.

That's when she told me that the father also had a 3-month-old son. I advised her to run like hell. I told her that I'm living proof of what he's leaving at home. I told her that Pookie has lied to other women about me when I'd just given birth and that only a selfish louse would leave a woman that just had a baby to pursue a relationship with another woman. I told Keisha how hard it is to take care of a newborn and how they don't sleep at night and how as the child's mother, you can't eat, sleep, shave your legs, poop, shower, pee or have a moment's rest. And that time is when you need the father of your child the most. So like I said, only a total tool would be in the streets looking for new tail when he's got a new baby at home. She told me that he seemed "sincere." *Sigh* Pookie seemed sincere too. Now I'd give anything to not have to stare at him on some days.

Keisha ended up not being pregnant, but she said that she and the dude are going to give it a go. I advised her to go on the pill or depo shot asap. I told her that she didn't want to be pregnant by the guy. Truthfully, I think that she wanted to be pregnant. And I can see how fun it can look to have a baby. I'm so thankful that I was only 5 classes short of my degree when I got pregnant because I don't see any other way that I could have gone to college full time with a baby. I'm blessed to have the job that I have, but things are gonna get difficult again as I'm about to go start grad school. But try explaining that to her. Hell, folks tried to tell me how hard it was to take care of a baby. Man, how right they were.

So anyway, despite me having 14 years of bad relationships and ignoring glaring signs under my belt, my home girls continue to ignore my advice and chase dead end situations. It's okay though. I'll be here to listen to them when things don't go well.

That's what I'm here for.

Countdown to 30/ 100 Blogs of Malika

Yep, it's about that time. I, Malika S. Flowers, am officially just a week and a half from being 30 years old. I knew that I'd want to do something big for the day (I am Malika for God's sake), but I had no clue what. I'd gone through so many changes and hadn't done any planning but I got on the phone with my homeboy Roderick one night, and he told me that he'd help me plan a party. God, I love Roderick. He actually reads my blog (hi Rod!!) so it's crazy to me when we talk and he asks me about my blog. I'd even disclosed to him who the ultrasecretive "Him" is.

We got together along with our friend Daisy one night and we ended up checking out a few spots for me to have it. It felt so good to hang out with them. Daisy used to be a server at Maggiano's until she got her degree in education and became a Spanish teacher. Due to her doing her thing, me doing the mom thing, and Roderick doing his own thing, we really hadn't gotten to see one another in a while. I don't think that either of them know how much hanging out that night meant to me. We laughed and caught up with one another's lives since we'd last seen one another. Roderick ended up hanging with another friend that night and Daisy and I rode on to Eastside Lounge to catch up to our other homeboy Raphael.

The next day I'd felt like it was all a wonderful dream. It was only a few years ago that we were all regulars at Apache Cafe and MJQ, and now life had made us all float into other directions. Thank goodness for Facebook or we'd probably never see or hear from one another. Not because we don't love one another, but it seems that's just how life is.

Caleb will be 3 in a few months and I really haven't been on the scene like that since right before I got pregnant. Once I was with child, I'd only made the occasional starring appearance. How I'd missed my homies. I even told Daisy and Roderick that I enjoy going to some of my old stomping grounds and having new heads look at me like "who the hell is that?!" as I walk up and get and show love to and from many of Atlanta's finest artists. Trust me, the underground music scene in Atlanta is a fickle one. I still make the occasional appearance at MJQ (the bouncer is my homie and he sometimes asks for tit pics via text messages, which is a part of the reason that we love him) but needless to say, it's just not the same. Such is life, I guess.

So anyway, I swear I'd put Daisy and Roderick through so much as I had them combing the internet and city for the perfect venue. Thankfully I found a cool spot that has everything I want, plus they cater. Oh yes, this is gonna be BIG. :)

While on the topic of aging and changes, I guess I'll take this time to commemorate my 100th blog post. Every now and again I'll comb through my old postings. I have to say, that not to toot my own horn, but I guess I am a pretty good writer. As hokey as it sounds, I even sometimes laugh at my own ramblings out loud.

A while ago, just for giggles, I googled the web address of my blog. I'd actually discovered that someone had linked to the blog I'd written on Chris Brown and Rihanna. I was actually pretty floored and humbled by that. I remembered the many fights that Pookie and I have had, and I remember the sweet things he'd done too. I wish I hadn't deleted the post about my birthday last year.

It's been such a long beautiful journey. At one point I was going to change my web address when I'd found out that fat tacky jealous skeezer was reading my blog, but after talking to my homie who works at MJQ, I decided to leave it. He reminded me that I've got a few loyal readers and that this is me and what I do, and people love it so I'd just have to accept that the fat bitch was going to jock me regardless.

So anyway, thank you loyal readers (including you, you fat pill popping, alcoholic hooker, Chloe Colbert) for reading my blog and sharing in the beauty, growth, and wonderment that is my life. Here's to another 30 years and another 100 blogs *cheers*

Malika

Friend Requests

So the other day my friend Tasha* (names have been changed to keep my friends' business up out of the streets) called me and said "guess who requested to friend me on Facebook? Rita!*" Before I go on any further, I need to explain who Rita is. Rita slept with Tasha's husband about 6 years ago. Rita had spent so long trying to pretend that she was simply a friend of Tasha's husband, but obviously at least once, she was more. Needless to say, Tasha hates everything about Rita and hates her pretty much as much as I hate the slutbag skeezer that's stalked me for over a decade.

Tasha was PISSED. As soon as I heard, I gave her the sage advice to decline the invite, and then block Rita. I told her that if she accepted it, she'd end up pouring over every word and picture on Rita's page, and every time Rita updated her page with anything, including something as simple as "gm fb" Tasha would just look at her husband and hate his ass all over again. That's when Tasha admitted that she'd already accepted Rita's invite because her page was private and she wanted to see what she was up to, and that she'd spent 2 hours looking at her pictures and looking at Rita's children, to be sure that none of them looked like her own husband or their children. We laughed and then Tasha agreed to unfriend and then block her.

That's when Tasha had to ask me why on Earth Rita would send her a friend invite. I answered honestly, "curiosity." "What?" She asked. I explained to her that Rita sent her the friend invite the same reason that she'd accepted it. They both wanted to see what and how the other was doing. It was never about friendship for either of them. Tasha also found out that Rita had sent a friend invite to her husband and she promptly blocked her from her husband's profile.

I told Tasha about my theory that most women are sane and sensible creatures 99% of the time, but 1% of the time, we're batshit crazy. The problem is in the lapses in judgment that we're typically dealing with. Like I said, 99% of the time, we'll be on the straight and narrow, but suddenly that one thing that's a bad idea most of the time suddenly becomes a good idea to you. God only knows how or why that is. Once that 1% hits, you'll all of a sudden decide to call the exboyfriend that you swore you wouldn't call, drive by a guy's house at 4 in the morning, or you email a woman that you hate, who hates you in return. Or you send her a friend invite. Yep, 1% can be a bitch. I swore off Him because it was the right thing to do, but when my 1% pops up, I still visit him and stare longingly at his Facebook page.

I'd had my own experience with such occurrences. When I was pregnant I got a Myspace friend invite from someone that happened to have the wife of my son's father in her top friends. Needless to say, I declined the invite. A short while later the wife had logged into his Myspace page in order to look at my page. I'd written a short blog where I said that he and I were getting along (I honestly didn't say anything bad, all I'd said was that we were getting along) and she hit the Goddamned roof. Anyway, his exwife had always been portrayed as the cool and calm, drama free one, but truth of the matter is that she's just as nutty as the rest of us. From what I hear, she pretends to be so in control of her emotions, that I wish she'd just open up and admit to having feelings. Who wants to pretend to be a robot? How insincere is that? But anyway...

Tasha has since moved on and Rita is no longer on her mind and her Facebook page is now safe. Until one of them has another 1% moment.