Malika, The Theme

So I'm single. I actually enjoy it this time around. Ted is closeby to keep my back scratched, and he does an outstanding job of it. No dating though. I mean, I'm somewhat open to dating new men, but truth be told, I'm expecting some changes later in the year and I don't want the bullshit of some dude to distract me from my goals. I like being single, because it allows me to be at my best, without playing the dating game. I'm over the dating game. I'm really in love with the woman that I am becoming. And part of becoming her is learning to protect her heart and mind, via cutting off bullshit at the door.

The crazy thing is that I'm not typically short on men that would like to date me- the issue is that I don't come across many men that take my time and heart seriously. Facebook, which has served as an incredible social outlet, has also led to quite a few men in my inbox. I've learned something from the inboxers though- none of these men are into the actual me. Quite often they see me online, cracking hysterical jokes, making intellectual quips about life, and they assume that's all there is to me. That I'm just an easygoing woman with a high sex drive who likes to laugh. They see me as a theme, as a representative.

I mean, yeah, that is a part of who I am, but I'm so much more. I'm funny, kind, introspective, big on social justice, educated, pro-Black, pro-children (just not pro having more children), I have moments of insecurity. To put it in a nutshell, I'm human. I'm flawed. I'm multi-faceted. But men see me goofing off on Facebook and assume that dating me means a few inbox messages and I'll be sitting on their face in a week and a half.

Not at all. I like dates. I like men who are gentle (but not wimps). I like men who travel (and have plans to take me with them). I want a man who shares his hopes and dreams. I mean, who would have thought that the same guys who inbox me, meet with me once and discover that I'm a normal woman, not the fantasy they built me up to be. It happens. A lot.

I had a girlfriend who used to may slick comments rooted in her jealousy (she and I are no longer friends), where she would say that she wishes she had men around to fuck, much like I do. I'd explain to her that 1) plenty of guys wanted to sleep with her, she just didn't see it and 2) being an object of desire isn't all its cracked up to be. Men will lie, cheat, and steal to get pussy. It feels horrible to spend time with a man, ask a million questions, begin to let down your guard, only to find out he's a creep. Yet its the story of my fucking life. It isn't cute, it isn't fun, it isn't funny. But all she saw was that I was an object of desire. But she missed that part. An OBJECT.