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?