The Sexual Sabbatical

I've known a few of my homegirls through the years to choose to go extended periods without sex. They'd say to me how tired and frustrated they were with the weak dating scene and decided to instead hold out for something more. I on the other hand, always wanted and got sex. I always managed to have strong, good-looking, sexually available men at my whim and I never felt bad about taking advantage.

Don't get me wrong, I was never the kind of girl to meet some random dude and sleep with him, but if I had a male acquaintance that I'd known for some time, if he and I developed a sexual relationship, I was content. That was until lately.

Deen disgusts me in several ways now and the other guys I'd been with since then just don't seem to cut it for me. A few weeks ago it occurred to me that it had been 2 weeks since I'd had sex and I started to get the itch again. I reached out to some of my previous "friends" and for some reason, the planets never seemed to align with them. Either they pissed me off or we just couldn't seem to schedule things. Then there was my list of "whenever we finally get around to it" guys. Of course I could easily get them on the phone and we talked about the maybes, but it just didn't pan out.

Last weekend I ran into Nick and he and I talked about hooking up. However, out of the blue, I got a phone call from his girlfriend/exgirlfriend or whatever the hell she is and I knew that one had to die quickly. Then there was another call to a guy that I'd known for some months that I thought about getting with, but he was a nogo as well.

Monday morning, I woke up alone in my bed in my apartment and realized that I'd just gone 4 weeks without sex. The old me thought this was impossible. The new me felt refreshed and proud. Without sex there had been no drama, no lies, no distractions. I'd started focusing on my grad school application again. My energy and attention was suddenly all on my son and spending quality time with my friends and family. I started again thinking about getting my career in order. I was finally putting my mind where it should have been all along.

Monday morning, I also chose to call my "friend" who typically serviced me on occasion to share with him the news that I'd closed down my candy shop. The only reason I had not been with him was because he'd been in the Northeast, working for FEMA after Hurricane Sandy. As soon as I told him that I was no longer wanting to have sex, he told me that he was actually on his way home and would be there in 2 hours. I told him that it didn't matter because I'd decided it was time for me to take a break but that we could still cuddle at times.

Anyway, today being Friday, I saw my "friend." I got to his home and we went to his bedroom to take a nap and cuddle. I warned him again (just like I did before I left my home) that I was serious about not having sex. Ten minutes into laying down, he started asking me to take my pants off. I declined. He started to fondle my breasts and even took my bra off. I was as stimulated as if he was rubbing my elbows. I felt nothing. He asked for head and I told him hell no. He tried to slide my pants down and I quickly slid them back up. He started to fondle my breasts again. I stared off into space and waited for him to finish. Again he asked for head. Again, I said hell no. We lay there for a while and before my alarm could wake me, he did, again, trying to have sex. It so didn't happen. It's incredible to me that dude darn near wanted to act like I owed him oral sex as a consolation prize for not giving it up.

During our cuddle/try me session, he also had the nerve to tell me that he was considering flying to Puerto Rico to screw some broad he met in New York. Which would have been well and good, but this asshole had only taken me out once over the last year and a half. I promptly deleted all of his contact info on my way home.

I also ran into Nick later in the afternoon and he told me he wanted to sleep with me. I rolled my eyes and told him it wasn't even in the cards.

Its now Friday night and this Sunday will make for 5 blessed weeks without sex. Five weeks without headaches, bullshit, drama, lies and confusion. Man, someone should have told me about this sooner.

The Love I Cannot Have

 

I met him at MJQ. I wasn’t even supposed to be there that night. I happened to go by after an event that ended early and I happened to be extra cute. I was standing outside of the club when he went by. He walked by me and winked, and nodded toward the door and asked me to join him inside. I figured that we’d talk briefly and never see one another again. His name was Nick.

He bought my drink and we chatted. He told me that he’s a painter and showed me pics of his work. He asked me to guess his age. I guessed correct. I asked him to guess my age. He guessed correct. I was thoroughly impressed. We agreed to see one another the next day.

I called the next day around the time we agreed to but he didn’t answer. I ended up hanging out with a guy I was casually seeing at the time. Nick called while I was at a club so I didn’t answer. He texted me and called me “baby” and proclaimed that he missed me. Those familiar with my raging fear of commitment could see why that was a no go with me. I quickly dismissed him and erased his phone number.

Nearly two months later, as I sat with a friend, I got a text from a number I didn’t recognize. I nearly responded with my typical “who is this?” but my friend urged me to play along until I got enough clues to find out who it was. It was Nick. We texted back and forth for a while until I went through some mess with my ex the next day. Nick texted me a few days later to ask if he’d done anything wrong. I told him that no, he was great, however I was dealing with some major shit and simply not in a good place to date anyone. I told him that I wished him the best, but that I’m just not a good woman to pursue at the moment. He asked what happened and I told him.

Many men would have run after what I told him. Many would have simply wished me luck and washed their hands of me. But he didn’t. He asked if I wanted him to kick my ex’s ass. I half-jokingly answered yes. He continued to talk with me. The fallout from things with my ex got worse. Way worse. But Nick stuck with me. I eventually called him and he listened to me. I cried at times. He told me that things would be okay. He listened to me. He told me that he knew he loved me the night we met. Reading that text scared the hell out of me. But he assured me that he knew his feelings and that he felt connected. He came by on a night when I needed him the most.

He held me and made me laugh and forget my troubles. I loved how well he got along with my best friend, Sky. Sky was really worried about me and saw firsthand how horribly my last 2 exes treated me. He and Nick drank beer and talked me through my troubles. I had to make an overnight trip and the whole time I was gone, I thought about Deen. My mouth contorted into a frown and a scowl as I thought about our whole relationship. Then it turned into a smile as I thought about the week that I’d just spent with Nick. I didn’t know anything about him, but I knew that I wanted more of the love that he’d shown me. I made it a conscious decision to see where things would go with him.

We spent the following day together when I got home. I fried chicken and he and I sat in my home and laughed. We went to Centennial Park that night and walked into the middle of the fountain of rings. At that moment as the water swelled around us, I grabbed him and kissed him. I ran my fingers through his curly hair and allowed his love to encompass me. It was wonderful.

When we got home, I remarked that he smelled good. He told me that he was afraid that I’d noticed the smell of the liquor he had earlier. I grew tense. What kind of man shows up to a woman’s house under the influence of liquor? I texted Sky, but he urged me to give him the benefit of the doubt, so I did. He stayed the night with me and held me until the next morning.

I grew nervous. I liked him. But was he genuine? He had to be. He urged me to remain positive and strong. I wished I’d had his upbeat outlook and bright smile. When we hung out I found myself wondering if he was as physically attracted to me as I was to him. While I remained incapable of being “in love” with him as I dealt with my own issues, I knew that I loved him dearly for being there for me. One day after thinking heavily about him, I ran right into him. It was as if we in tuned spiritually.

I had a talk with the Universe. I thought about how I’d asked that Deen and I be together for the rest of our lives. This time I asked that if he were the man for me, to let me know within a week. I also asked that if he was not the man for me, to give me the strength to let him go.

He came back to my home and I cooked for him again. On the way there, he stopped for liquor. I knew then that something was wrong. I told him truthfully that he had a problem. He responded that he’s got some stress and deals with it how he could. The next morning I drove him home. He had me drop him off at McDonald’s and admitted that he’d been couch hopping with friends. I encouraged him to at least stay at my home as the cold snap ravaged Atlanta. He insisted that he was fine.

I started to feel that Nick was way more human than I anticipated. I knew it was looking bad. And real. Real bad. I thought about him a lot. Was he okay? Was he eating? Was he warm? Was he sincere? Was I in over my head? He seemed to disappear and reappear.

A few days later, I worried about him so I decided to see if he would be at the McDonald’s I dropped him off at. He was. He told me not to worry and that he was fine. Then he asked me to give him a ride to the liquor store. As we rode, I told him more firmly that he can’t live his life like that. He told me that I had no idea how he felt and what he was going through. I told him that we all had a cross to bear but that the answer wasn’t in a bottle. He said “some people have sex, some people eat, I drink.” I knew it was hopeless and that I had to get out. I had a 5-year-old boy to raise and I knew I couldn’t let him see his mother wasting time trying to save a man that didn’t want to be saved. I recalled watching the arguments between my own parents as my mom battled my father’s alcohol addiction as she tried to keep our family together while my father drank his life away. I knew that my son deserved better.

I brought him back to McDonald’s as he’d asked me to. He told me again not to worry about him. I thought about it and realized that it had been exactly seven days since I’d asked the universe for my sign that he wasn’t the one. I watched him exit the car. He winked at me as he walked in. I wiped my tear and drove away.

Since then I’ve seen him a few times. Amazingly, I literally think about him and he appears the next day. I’ve decided that he’s a soul mate of sorts. No, he’s not a boyfriend. No, we’ll never get married and we damn sure aren’t having any kids. But I love him and I miss him. I don't even miss my ex, but I miss Nick terribly. We’re very connected. I wish him the best and I’ll always feel that I owe him so much for being willing to be there for me when I needed him the most. But I know that he’s got a journey to go down and I can’t be his crutch. But I miss him and worry about him constantly. And if he ever decides to really clean his life up, I’ll be there with open arms.

meditation

As always, my life is shifting. I think I like that though. A shifting life means evolution and progress. A stagnant life is damn near the same as death to me, so I prefer to keep it moving. I seem to collect friends, share vital experiences with them and then move forward and collect new friends, while periodically checking in with old friends. I think it keeps me new and growing. I like to seek new ideas. There have been a few things around me that seem like they need to be readjusted (or just all out removed) and I plan to do that soon.

I'm also planning to start graduate school next fall. I'm kind of geeked and nervous at the same time, but I plan to attack it the same the same way I attacked my application and time at Kennesaw. I'm going to apply, not think anything of it, and blindly do whatever they tell me to do until I'm enrolled. Seriously, that's how I entered KSU. I love the kids I work with and I love my field, but the fact is that I'm ready to make more money in it.

As I deal from the fall out of my shitty relationship with Deen, I'm ready to be alone and do some internal healing. How insane is it that he was just as much of a waste of time as David? I swear, I keep attracting my father. No more though. I'm ready to spend some time just being solo and getting to know myself again. I also plan to get back into writing. After tons of fucked up stunts to make me hate my first love, I'm ready to tackle it again.

I even visited a Buddhist meditation center yesterday. After my orientation, I got to spend some time alone, meditating. Although my mind did wander for a while, for a brief moment, I had a second of clarity. As I stared at the wall, I thought to myself "I'm here." I wasn't there, I wasn't thinking about my ex, I wasn't worried about my son. I was simply in my own space and able to enjoy and focus on it. It was freeing and relaxing. I plan to do more of it.

So here I am, free to do and be myself again. I am here.

Lifestyle Choices

"It's not normal!" I shouted at my home boy, Sky.
"He was born that way," Sky replied. "It's not a choice, that's just who he is."
"He chose to be that way!" I replied. "This is so embarrassing. I've made my life standing against that kind of nonsense and here he is, making me look bad. I'm embarrassed of my son!"

As you can see, I'm having a hard time coming to terms with the potential of my son becoming one of them. You know who they are. They wave Bibles around and use it to justify their lifestyles. I just can't deal with it. I just don't want my son to live his life that way. But Sky swears that there is nothing wrong with my son's position. The simple fact of the matter is that it appears that my son appears to be leaning toward being a Christian and no matter how I feel about it, I've simply got to accept this and love him regardless.

It started innocently enough. Since I don't have cable in my apartment, so I buckled and bought a digital converter box. The box is actually pretty cool and for someone like myself that doesn't want much tv, the 50 channels that this provides is more than enough and best of all, I don't have another monthly bill like I would if I'd ordered cable instead.

There are even a few channels on there that I would never have had if I had cable instead. And among them is the SMILE channel. The SMILE channel features nothing but 24-hour Christian cartoons. Since we've had to make the transition into a new place and my son got his own room, I've done whatever I could do to make things easier for him. So once he discovered a channel with around the constant cartoon access, we were both elated.

But one day I sat and watched the cartoons and noticed that despite them being kinda cheesy, at least they had a semi decent message, once you get away from all of the biblical stuff. But the day soon came where my son wanted to see nothing but the SMILE channel. At one point I tested him by turning to a cartoon on another channel and he demanded that I turn back. And since then, I've been held captive by cartoons about Noah, Jonah, and Jesus.

I'm not opposed to Christianity or even Christians. I just don't like how the most powerful of the Christians tend to be so- churchy. I've come across Christians that are loving, loyal, and accepting. But then there are the others. The others that believe what anyone tells of the Cloth tells them. They pay 10% religiously, despite barely being able to feed their children, and they'll turn on their friends and loved ones for having different beliefs.

So now, here's my kid. I've never even had a conversation with him about Jesus but somehow he's a follower of sorts. Its okay though, there's still plenty of time for me to talk some sense into him.

The Epiphany of Off the Wall

Well, five days ago was my 32nd birthday. I rang it in as only I could. I started the celebration at MJQ Concourse where I danced and partied the night away, had a barbeque the next day, went tubing with girlfriends the day after that, and then drove to Washington DC with a best friend of mine, where I spent time with some family. As the years go on, I find that I prefer to celebrate my birthday for a whole week instead of just a day. Afterall, I deserve a damn week. But I digress.

This year my birthday also happened to be the day that a good friend's grandmother passed away. I shared with another friend of mine the story of how my friend's grandmother was in her late 70's and died of stomach cancer. The woman had been diagnosed a couple of years before her death and literally fought it until the end. When given the diagnosis the woman chose chemo, which seemed to help initially, but the cancer continued to come back until she was so weak, doctors refused to give her anymore treatment. I shared with my friend how I felt that my other friend's grandmother was simply afraid to die.

I suppose that it is my own exposure to death and interactions with the "other side" that's made me quite black and white when dealing with it, especially with older people. I told my friend that those of us that live our lives to the fullest aren't afraid to go. Its normally people that have a lot of regrets or know that they haven't been as good as they should have been, that are afraid to meet what awaits them.

It reminded me of a conversation I had a few years ago with my ex. There was a strange tone that hung around in the air as we spoke. I told him that he's afraid to die. He agreed. I told him that I'm not afraid to die. He said "I know." I told him that I believe he has a demon in him. Again, he agreed. So anyway, at that moment, I was brought back to my feelings of if you live it right the first time, you don't worry about what meets you on the other side.

***

While driving up to Washington with Daisy, we discussed a little of the detail about my cousin, Tracey's, death. I told her that although I hated losing my dear cousin when and how I did, (she actually died a week before my 18th birthday and was buried the day before it) her death was a constant reminder that nothing is promised. No one is promised. I also shared how I regretted only telling Tracey that I loved her one time. Of the many conversations and hang out sessions, I only awkwardly told her one time that I love her. I wished so many times that I had told her how much she meant to me. I don't have a lot of regrets, but that is still one that is with me.

Although I still mourn her, I used her death to let me know that I have to tell people how much they mean to me while they're here. Its not at all uncommon for me to end conversations with even casual friends by saying "I love  you." I never again want to know that someone that I care for has passed away without me taking a few seconds to tell them that they're dear to me. I find some solace in knowing that the last words to my cousin Jarronn were "I love you" after our last phone call. I'll never see him in this life again, but our last conversation was filled with love and promise, which is what we should all want to exit this life with.

***

Last night, on Facebook, I saw that a friend was going through some things so I texted her to check in. She said simply that she is unhappy with her life. The therapist in me took over and I asked her questions to examine her feelings. I don't think she wanted to do that, but she simply said that overall, she's unhappy in her life. I sent her some positive energy and gave it to the universe. I wanted so bad for her to understand the key to happiness is something that is inside all of us, not externally. I knew that she was in no place to hear it, so I let it die.

This morning, as I took my son to school, all of the stations commemorated the death of Michael Jackson this day, 3 years ago. They then played one of my favorite songs "Off the Wall." That song and album happen to be my favorites from MJ and I decided to dance my ass off in my car in his honor. That's when it hit me. I mean it really hit me. That's the key to happiness. Living your life Off the Wall.

No regrets, no fear, just living your life to the fullest. Being happy and thrilled to be alive. Taking adventures and doing what you want. Screw bullshit that you can't control. Stop trying to impress others. Take the bull by the horns and do what makes you happy. Its been an uphill battle, but I've realized that I'm overjoyed because I've finally reached the point where I'm Off the Wall and it feels spectacular.

I'm at the point in my life where I go where I want, befriend who I want, fuck who I want and live my life for me and not others. Of course there are people that disagree with my way of living, but that is simply because most of them fear my freedom and resent themselves for not letting go the way I have. I'm not afraid to die because I show the people that I love how much I care for them. I tell them and make sure that we spend time together. If there is a man I want, I let my heart lead the way. If there is another man I want (for a shorter period of time), I let "other" parts of my body lead the way. And I could not be more thrilled. I've finally discovered the real meaning of happiness. By living your life Off the Wall.

The Epic Summer of 2012

(This is Dashill Smith. He's a well-known trumpet player in Atlanta. He played with Roy Ayers the night before. Anyway, he fell asleep next to us at the park and I decided to take this pic of him to show how sweet this summer will be for me.)

Last Sunday night, I was kind of bored and restless so I hit up a girlfriend of mine named Malenda that I'd met a while ago from another friend. She and I had become Facebook friends and we'd even talked on the phone a few times. I wanted to do Starbucks so I hit her and she agreed to roll. We got there kind of late and stayed even later. As the night wore on, I decided that we should drive through the city. From there I decided to stop in at Apache, a little spot in the city that has hosted some of today's hottest artists. Jill Scott was there in her early days, along with India. Aarie, and Malcolm Jamaal Warner. One of my favorite shows there was a very under promoted show that featured Eric Roberson and Raheem Devaughn. I met both guys that night and it was awesome to be in the room with only 20 other people while such fantastic talent on the stage. Anyway, the spot also host acts from local top artists and I remember seeing Sky there several times before along with a bunch of other friends.

When I rolled up with Malenda, I was surprised to see a few of my old homies out front. I saw Malachi (better known for his song "Hustlin' Boy"), my friend Kimani, who used to host their poetry nights, and a poet named Abyss. I started to feel like I was at home. I walked on inside and saw a couple more old friends. I started to really miss that place. I hadn't been there in nearly 3 years. Truthfully, I think I'd just missed that point in my life.

Kimani then started talking about rolling through a spot called Sound Table, so Malenda and I hit there next. Inside I saw a few more people I knew.

It was around that point that I decided that as I deal with my separation from Pookie, I need to reemerge myself into my old social life. I want to go out and have a ball. I want  surround myself with beautiful and talented people again. I want to have more incredible stories to tell.

This weekend is already showing how awesome my summer will be. I spent Saturday night with a fantastic man that I sometimes make the acquaintance of, followed by me bailing a good friend out of jail. Sunday night was me hanging at the Jazz Fest with friends. I also managed to make a new friend who I think will be an outstanding addition to my collection of besties. She has a son my child's age and we've made some of the same dating mistakes. She's mad cool and I'm planning to get her and some of my other chicks together soon for food and fun at Daisy's.

So yeah, this summer will be banging. It's not going to be a summer of chasing down men. It's going to be a summer of enjoying being single and getting to know and love myself all over again. Lucky me.

The Disconect: Another Former Potential Love Lost

Today I was on the phone with a new friend of mine as he told me about some problems he had at his job. I asked about the location and he told me that it was a Home Depot that is located near my former apartment. I immediately asked him about Musa (pronounced Moos-a), a friend of mine from way back when, that I'd adored.

Actually, I more than adored Musa. I saw him as the man that I would and should be with if the planets aligned properly. He was tall, good looking, mannerly, personable, and he had a smile that could brighten my darkest days. I got to know him as I lived in the area. I had a routine hobby of painting my apartment.

 Often when I'd get bored or restless, I run to Home Depot where I'd see Musa, in his white kufi (he was a devout Muslim). He'd greet me with that fantastic smile and ask how I was. We'd talk about our lives as he mixed my paint. I always felt so comfortable with him. It was like I'd known him for ages. The problem was that he was married (quite a common theme for me, as you sadly see). Sometimes I'd offer to let him come to my apartment just to see the fantastic paint jobs that I was accomplishing and he always declined. I figured that his faith kept him from being in close proximity alone with me so I respectfully accepted his decision to stay away.

I hadn't seen him in years, but about a year ago, I went into the Home Depot where I saw him. I immediately melted when I saw that bright white smile. We caught up since I'd had my son. He told me that he'd divorced his previous wife because she was "too in the world" and had since gotten a wife that was much more his speed. I told him that I was glad that he'd found happiness, but a small part of me was sad that I'd again missed the chance to see where things could go with him.

The last time I was in that Home Depot, unfortunately Musa wasn't there. I got my paint and went about my way. That was sometime in February. I was glad that my friend worked there and I was ready to pick his brain about the man I'd forever remember as an incredible person. What my friend said shocked me. Apparently Musa is currently in jail. Not just for something small. He was accused of jumping into a woman's car and holding a knife to her neck, and ordered her to drive. She didn't and some people came to her aid and he ran away.

I immediately told my friend "I don't believe it." I'm no dummy when it comes to how many Blacks happen to "look alike" and end up in prison for crimes they didn't commit. I shook my head while on the phone and said that I could and would not believe that it was Musa. It simply had to be someone else. Musa wouldn't do such a thing. He was too calm. Too patient. He damn near carried a halo. This is the same man that wouldn't even come to my apartment to see the painting because an unmarried man and woman shouldn't be alone together. I know my Musa, and it couldn't be him.

My friend told me to look up Musa Muhammad and Hobby Lobby. I clicked on the first link I found.

The first thing I noticed were his eyes. Those weren't the eyes of Musa. Sure, it was undeniably his face. But his eyes were bare. Those weren't the same eyes that I talked to at length. They weren't the same eyes that encouraged me to work things out with my son's father. They weren't the same eyes that smiled at me and greeted me as I painted my apartment wall for the fourth time. That couldn't be my Musa.

Then I noticed his smile. I mean with serious allegations like that, who the hell smiles? Even his smile was blank and even sinister. Again, this wasn't my friend. Then I clicked on the video link.



I couldn't believe it. One of the good Samaritans chased him down and held him until police arrived. Oh. My. God. How did this happen? The therapist in me looked for answers. Maybe he was bipolar or schizophrenic. I'm not sure. They said he also had a violent past. The eerie part is that he had rubber gloves and several zip ties on him. Musa planned to do some serious damage. The size of the butcher knife was insane. How could my Musa do this? Actually, my Musa didn't but that Musa did. It was so strange to hear the reporter refer to him as "the guy" as if he's just some random dude. But I guess, to the people that matter at this point, he really is just "that guy."

I'm so exceptionally grateful that the woman and her grandchild were okay. Although, in my line of work, I know that she'll probably have nightmares about what-could-have-been for the rest of her life.

I'd like to reach out to Musa. I'm damned sure not going to try to marry the dude or anything, but I need to look in his eyes just one more time. I'd like to visit him if he'll let me. There was a psychotic break. Don't get me wrong, he should not have did what he did and he damn sure needs to be locked away. But something inside of me needs to know that my Musa is still somewhere in there. Damn, Musa. Damn.

The Waiting Continues

I went out with a guy friend of mine yesterday. Actually, I guess I'll start at the beginning. I have known him for a few years and we ran into each other a few days ago. We flirted a little and exchanged numbers. As I emerge into the whole dating scene, I honestly struggle with the knowledge that I need to be alone and get my head together, versus my need and want to be held.

I've got a "friend" who I'll call Del. I met him a little under a year ago and he and I often cuddle, but the only problem is that well, he's a raging asshole. I love him and I'm familiar with him because I'm well-versed in dealing with assholes. But that doesn't mean that I don't want more from him. So while I cuddle with Del at times, I still know that he ain't the one. While there are those that tell me to leave Del alone, as I know I should, until I get a permanent replacement, Del is the man I get my emotional fix from. Some may look at my dating an asshole as a sign that I haven't learned shit from my previous experiences. I on the other hand consider it a huge step in the right direction, because I know that he's a dickhead and I'll use him for cuddling and comfort, just as he uses me for sex and to have his ego boosted. I guess I sound like a nut, but I've always been the kind of girl that wants to deal in the reality. The reality of our situation is that he's an asshole, but the sex is good and I like to cuddle. So until I find what I'm really looking for, I'll deal with his punk ass.

Which brings me back to my friend. We flirted more via text and agreed to meet up yesterday. He got there and we began to discuss some of our philosophies on life and it became painfully clear quite early that I was a tad more moderate on some things than he is. While I respect anyone's right to believe what they want, I know that if there is no basic foundation on somethings, its hard to build. We enjoyed our time, but I knew we'd never be. It sucks too, because I've known him long enough to know that he's a fantastic person. I guess he's just not the right man for me. *sigh* Back to the drawing board.

One of my best girlfriends is saying that she is officially "bitter" and has given up on the prospect of love. I kind of wish I could say the same, but I can't. Perhaps its my arrogance that does it, but when I look at myself I can't help but to think that I'm pretty, smart, outgoing, hilarious, and intelligent. There is no reason in hell for me to be single. But I am. So I just have to have faith that when the Universe sees it fit, it will deliver me the man of my dreams. Or at lease something close to it.

When Keeping it Real Goes Wrong

I've got a friend I'll call Earnest. I'd seen Earnest around the poetry scene here in Atlanta for a while now, and I'd always thought he was cute in passing, but I didn't actually get to know him until he started casually dating a friend of mine. Eventually things fizzled for the two of them and he showed interest in me. My friend assured me she didn't mind if we dated. I wasn't quite sure how I felt about him but he and I became friends and continued to regularly talk on the phone.

He was always so doting and loving. He really knew how to make a girl feel like the center of the universe. Whenever I was sick, he'd volunteer to come lay with me. He'd always offer me TLC. He was never more than a phone call away. Truthfully, there were a few conversations with myself where I asked if he was someone I could seriously take things to another level with.

There were two things that kept me from trying to move forward with him. While my friend dated him, she remarked how he always made her feel like a princess, but she hated that she was well into her career, while he seemed to not have much of one. Sure, he had and has a job, but there's no progression. Whenever she imagined babies and a husband, she felt it hard to be supported or even on an equal level with a starving artist. He often spoke of how one day he could possibly sell big and become a millionaire. My friend being a bit of a realist wasn't impressed with the prospects. Then there was also the fact that she'd rejected him. I hated the idea of dating a guy that my friend didn't feel worthy of her. I felt like I'd be lapping up her leftovers.

Once he showed interest in me, I had a hard time looking at him seriously. I often wondered if my friend's opinion of him somehow biased me, but regardless, it was what it was. I couldn't help but to agree with her assessment of him. Granted I'm still broke myself, but I've been blessed enough to have a child with a man that always saw to it that his family was taken care of. I'd hate to turn around and then have another child with a man that wasn't capable of doing at least the same.

Earnest and I hung out the other day and I found myself getting comfortable with him. Very comfortable. I guess in my comfort I found it necessary to come clean with him. I felt that he deserved to know what kept him from being able to jump that final hurdle. Some would call my confession to him arrogance. I felt that I would be doing him a favor. Regardless, I spoke.

I looked at him and said "do you know what keeps you from being marriage material?" He listed some physical traits (that I'd actually found quite attractive) and I laughed that no, those weren't it. Then I got serious, looked at him and said that he lacked the financial resources to move forward. His laughing demeanor changed. He wasn't cold or mean, but it was clear that he didn't agree with what I'd said. He stated "how do you know I won't have a lot of money? I could go out tomorrow and sell some art and make a million dollars." I had to bite my tongue to not mention well intentioned things such as the chances of him doing such were slim and that he was already in his late 30's. There were a few other things that could have been given as a retort, but there was no way to say them without sounding shitty, snobby and condescending, so I remained silent.

I could tell immediately that my well intentioned information hadn't been received the way I'd hoped. He then said "that's why white women get good men. They see potential in men and hold on through the bad stuff and they're able to reap the rewards in the end." Again, I wanted to mention his age (typically when women date for "potential" it’s in their late teens or early 20's). Also, truthfully, I know plenty of black women that have dated broke ass dudes, hoping that one day he'd get his shit together and do right by them. Hell, I stayed with my (then) broke high school sweetheart and helped support his ass thru school, only to be shitted on when he was well-employed.

I was kind of shocked at how new this information seemed to him. I asked if any woman had ever shared that info with him before. He gave the straight answer of "no." He was in his late 30's and dated plenty of women, yet no one thought to tell him straight up that his lack of financial resources was an issue. I found myself thinking that it was more of an issue of women thinking it, but not wanting to hurt his feelings by sharing it, so they'd rather leave him alone than to say what needed to be said.


I even tried to lessen the blow by explaining to him that I too had been rejected by men for lack of financial stability. I agreed that it did sting immensely and that I too felt that although I did not have it all in terms of money, I made up for it in other qualities. But eventually I had to take a look at myself, and after rejecting another man who had even less than I, I saw that the men that told me I was too broke to marry may have been onto something. Since then I’ve decided to quit dicking around and enter grad school already. Earnest didn’t seem to care.

There was an awkward silence. He said he had some things to do and that he was ready to go home. We've only talked a little since then. I can't say that I feel bad because I told him the truth. Lord knows that women can deal with a lot of shit, but by a certain point in our lives, we need stability. While he offered all of the emotional stability in the world, financially, he could never support a family where he is now. I'd hoped he'd take my words and hear my intention. He didn't.

I later told my friend about it and she said that she’d once told him that his “nest wasn’t ready” but I’m assuming those words fell on deaf ears. Perhaps he refused to hear her, or he just didn’t understand what she meant. Regardless, she stated that she did tell him the deal.

 I don't regret telling him. I just wish he'd heard my underlying message instead of an insult. And I agree, he has all of the potential in the world to make a lot of money. There are a few things that he's quite skilled in and he's a freaking genius. He reads like a bandit and could easily start an empire of how-to dvd's and Youtube videos. And I honestly hope he does all of those things and more. I hope he eventually has a wife and they have a bunch of beautiful brown babies and that he raises those kids to be fantastic contributions to society. Because I know that Earnest can do it. But love don't pay the bills.

Enjoying the Single Life and Lessons Learned

So with each day that passes, I settle more into singlehood. I remember a phone conversation I had with a girlfriend of mine where she and I caught up after a few months of being distant and explaining to her how much I enjoy being alone, as I painted my new apartment. Strangely, that was the moment where it occurred to me how much I really do love being single.

As I painted my wall a lovely shade of blue/grey I thought about how Pookie would never have let me paint. He would never have let me decorate or put my splash of color everywhere. He wouldn't have let me get the fish tank, and he damn sure wouldn't have let me get my cat, Drunky. I recently purchased my first solo bed, which is a lovely queen sized number that I purchased from Ikea. Strangely, it seems too big sometimes, but I love my bed. I love my bedroom. I love making solo decisions in my home.

So recently I had to stop in Home Depot to get more paint. I saw a man behind the counter. He was hot. Tall, dimples, well dressed, nice haircut. He turned around and nodded at me. I mouthed hello to him. We chatted casually and he told me his work hours and told me to come back and see him. I did. Of course I made sure that I wore make up and that my hair looked great. My bestie, Portia watched Pumpkin as I chatted up the stranger.

I remarked on how well dressed he was. He smiled and said that his daddy was a hustler and taught him to always look his best. He complemented my look and called me pretty. He told me his sign. I told him that I am a Gemini. I explained that as a woman and lover, I make sure to give my all to those that I love. Then he finished my sentence and explained that I go apeshit when someone does me wrong. We talked about child support and cops and I instinctively knew that he hated cops. He asked how I knew. I shrugged. It was like I'd known him forever. That's when I knew to ask him. I said "are you married?" and he casually responded with "yes." It was so casual.  Even too casual. Married. Married? Damn. I think my balloon visually popped.

He asked if I was that upset about him being married. I didn't want to stroke his ego so I told him that no, I was just in thought about something else. Then he pulled out the pic of her and the kids. Naturally, she looked like a worn down housewife. So there was man that would look great on my arm that I could see myself bedding and fucking until the cows came home, but he happens to be married. He told me that his being married didn't have to mean that we couldn't do our thing. He said that we could be "friends." I explained to him that the last time I was "friends" with a married man, my kid was conceived and that I didn't want to go down that road again. I told him that I'm tired of sharing men and that I want to be a man's one and only. He responded that he understood and respected my desires.

That was a few days ago and truthfully, I do still think of him. Not him so much him, but the feeling I had before I learned he was married. That feeling of melting and giggling and sharing a moment with one other person. I just don't want to share those moments or a man with a third party.

So yeah, I am absolutely enjoying being single. The only men I'll open myself to are men that I feel a special connection to and men that are readily available to me. In the meantime, I'm loving who I am and where I'm at. Because I'm fucking awesome.

Enough Friends

So I’ve made the foray into dating again. It’s been slow, but gradual. I don’t think I’m ready for anything serious, but I’d like someone around to at least cuddle with. There have been a few moderately promising interactions, but they’ve all been a bust. I’ve been so hesitant and nervous to date that it takes me forever and a day to decide if a guy is someone that I should begin to trust. And then, it seems to never fail, he does or says something stupid that leads me back to the drawing board.

The good thing is that I’m okay with it this time around. I guess its because I’ve been through the ringer so much that I’m hesitant to go falling in love anyway. For example, there is Eddie, a guy that I met at my homie’s party this summer. He was the deejay at the party and we took well to each other early on. I asked my friend if he was cool and my friend said that he couldn’t think of a single bad thing to say about Eddie. I wanted to pursue things then, but I was still living with Pookie and didn’t want to ruin things with him buy going for him when I wasn’t mentally or physically able to. Eddie and I stayed in touch with the occasional Facebook message about once a month, but I remained distant.

Once I was into my own place I hit him up and asked if he’d like to get together one day. We ended up getting sushi and had a pretty good time. We talked about music, kids, the past, the future, the whole bit.

A week afterward, he and I agreed to meet up at a club we both frequent to see our mutual friend. A girlfriend of mine happened to fall through after a horrible date she’d just been on. She was clearly pissed off and I tried my best to be there for her as she and I are both reentering the dating scene at the same time. My friend Sky joked with her about her date, as did I. But Eddie didn’t. As a matter of fact, he acted irritated every time she came around. Granted, my friend can come across as spoiled, but she’s a good friend of mine and I felt that the very least I could do was to listen to her and engage her as well. Hell, Eddie could have done the same damned thing.

Later, the communication that he and I had became more and more distant. I don’t know what happened, but I don’t really care. I tried a few times to text him and see how things were going and his responses got shorter and his text messages took longer and longer to get back to me. Old Malika would have tried hard to maintain contact with him and at least stay friends. But after another idiot that pissed me off recently made me realize that there isn’t much point in staying friends with everyone I come across. Truthfully, I know a lot of people and don’t feel the need to collect more.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again- I’ve got enough friends. It’s true. Two of my best friends are women I’ve hung out with since middle school, nearly 20 years ago. So, this time around, there is no more hanging on for whatever reason. Simply put, I’ve got enough of my own problems, no need to hang on to someone elses’.