Touch Starved

Still meeting and unpacking with Dr. Q. I'm discussing dating a lot with her, probably more than I should. It's funny because with no real dating movement happening in my life, we still spend a lot of time talking about my past, current, and possible potential future. Crazy enough, we tend to touch on Fred at least once a session. He's always in the back of my head, even if I hate to admit it. She shocked me during our last session by stating "Birthday Bandit should never have been the person to break your celibacy. The only man close enough to you to warrant that was Fred." Damn. Most folks in my life tell me that Fred ain't the one, and he ain't. But he's always there in some way. Maybe she was right? Oh well, can't unring that birthday bell, even though I don't really consider that an actual sexual encounter (don't judge me, okay).

Anyway, I knew early on that this entire summer would be made up of me getting into any and every opportunity that presented itself. With that, I've also started being even more intentional about getting up with my people and being social. Among the new buddies is a woman I'll call Amber. She and I sat down over coffee recently and talked about her relationship stuff, and I unloaded on her about the Birthday Bandit. I'd admitted to her how the sex was pretty subpar, compared to what I was used to, but to be fair, I attribute it to the condom he wore. Then, I admitted something to her that I hadn't really pondered on too hard before. It wasn't the sex that had me (God knows)- it was the cuddling. The night of my birthday, when we'd landed in his bed, he squeezed me so tight. I was honestly a bit uncomfortable, but I held on, basking in it. It made me feel desired and wanted. It made me feel loved and coveted.

And while I haven't gone near anyone since, it was the memory of the cuddling that kept me from blocking him as soon as he started showing his ass. It took roughly a week before I knew that he'd outlived his usefulness and he was cancelled. I told Amber that while he was clearly not the person I was supposed to be with, I miss the feeling of strong arms around me, holding me and making me feel safe. I mean, whatever, I'll go without sex. We all know that I've done it before. But now I'm entering this space of just wanting to be held and cared for. Amber shocked me by saying "Aw. Sounds like you're touch starved."

I paused. I'd heard the term, but I'd never had a reason to connect to it until now. She was right. I wasn't horny, I didn't miss penetration, I missed the dopamine and serotonin that is created from feeling safe in a man's arms. I took that thought and I marinated on it. I even went down my internal rolodex of men I'd trust to cuddle with. 

And I started to miss him again. 

I know that he's not the one I should be thinking about like this. But the fact is that there aren't a lot of men I trust in that capacity. I know him. I know what he's capable of. I've realized that my relationship with sex and intimacy has changed after celibacy, and I just don't have the capacity to go kiss a bunch of frogs anymore. I'd rather be hugged and loved on by him than to roll the dice opening up to a new man and being disappointed all over again. I'm not sure if or when I'll date again, but as of right now, I just don't have the emotional space to see how another man can disappoint me.

On another note, a buddy in Los Angeles told me that he's finally getting into his apartment after a long journey and he told me that he'd like me to be present for his house warming party. I'm still turning up this summer, but his invitation touched me and I told him that I'd do everything in my power to attend. I'd already planned to go to Los Angeles at the end of the year, but I'm happy to have a good reason to fly back out earlier.

As I started to ponder on the invite (still waiting for the date), my mind began to wander to him. I envisioned myself sneaking through the front door of his secured building and knocking on his apartment door. I'd lean seductively on the door and ask if he was busy. *le sigh*

I'd also considered asking him to join me at the bar of whatever hotel I stay at. Or perhaps join me at my favorite L.A. steakhouse, Bossa Nova, as we sip cocktails while we talk and stare out the window at the traffic on Sunset Blvd.

I wonder what Fred would say?

I've tried so hard to move away from him. I've long since realized that he and I absolutely do not work. That man and I will not be falling in love and getting married. But the fact is that I've thought about him daily and I miss him terribly. I've contemplated calling him several times. But I was well aware that I'd told him that I no longer wished to be friends with him. I'd even completely erased his number from my phone to ensure that there would be no weak moments of contact. Once I started to get that itch, I called my bestie to ask for his number, and like any good friend, she told me no. I then asked another mutual friend, and like the girl code dictates, she too told me no.

I sat in gratitude for them. One day, I walked into my bedroom and looked on my dresser and saw my old phone. I already knew that if the day came, I could go into it to find the number. I held that knowledge and I'd occasionally look at that phone, taunting me with that hidden secret. Eventually I decided to open it up and get the number.

I held onto that number and saved it under "." in my current phone. I'd occasionally open up the dot and stare at it, wondering when or if I would ever be courageous enough to reach out. It was a weird space to be in. Would he even want to talk to me? At the same time, I mulled over Amber's observation. 

"Touch starved."

I know that Fred loves me. In his own lil twisted, fucked up way, he does. I've even heard my intuition tell me that he still thinks about me more often than I realize, although I'd questioned that account. Last night, I cracked. I called "."

He picked up immediately and said my first and last name. I froze. He said he'd call me back in a few. I held my breath, anticipating that he'd want me to twist in the wind. He called back in 3 minutes.

He congratulated me on the house and told me that he'd been meaning to send a house-warming gift and asked me questions about it. He apologized for things going the way that they did. I told him that I'll be in town some time next month and I'd like him to meet me for coffee or dinner. He told me that he'd love to.

Ugh, here we go again...

The Problem with Proximity

Sooo... I kinda have a crush. I can't speak much more on it than that. I think he kinda digs me too, but he's got a lot of stuff going on in his world and Malika 2.0 ain't chasing down men who aren't readily available. God knows, I've made that mistake in the past and I don't have the capacity to have a man who doesn't have the time or physical capability to build with me and spend quality time with me. But I still enjoy his friendship whenever he can squeeze away from the world to see me.

As I emerge from my celibacy cocoon, I'm slowly opening myself up to seeing who and what's out there. I've gotten pretty good at reading energies and since the desperation and sexual desire no longer seep from my pores, it seems like men are showing interest in ways they didn't in the past. Can't front, I'm enjoying the attention. I sail through rooms and notice the glances of men, but I smile brightly, sometimes I even wink, and I keep it rocking. I no longer feel the need to entertain every male that looks my way.

Truthfully, I'm open to talking to one or two of these men. I'd love to open things up and see how we'd do. There's only one problem- Atlanta. Ya see, Atlanta is small. Like super tiny. And yes, in proximity, it is huge. But among certain circles, this place is petite. A lot of us have gone to school together, worked together, hustled together, broke bread with one another, have given one another our last $20 and slept on one another's couches. Those are some major bonds and it ain't easily broken. 

But it doesn't take long to destroy a reputation. I literally know a guy who burned so many bridges 25 years ago that to this day, his name is still mud in the streets. A few years ago, that same guy tried to get with me, and my strong theory is that he needed a girlfriend with a clean rep to vouch for him, so he'd be welcome in certain circles again. Wild thing is that he'd shown his ass in the past to me too, so I nicely swerved him when he started sniffing around me later. I value my reputation and I wasn't about be used to cleanse his name, all so he could continue fucking people over.

Anyway, it feels good that I can walk into rooms and know that things can't or won't get awkward over some old sexual encounters. No weird beef about who said what to who. That's the good thing about taking a step away from dating and all the stuff. I can re-emerge cleaner than the waters of Lake Minnetonka. In many ways, the dating pool is now clear for me, and I appreciate that.

As patriarchal as it sounds (gag me), men get weird when they know a woman has smashed the homies. Don't get me wrong, I'm not out here giving a fuck what men think, but I know how they are. Most would never take a woman seriously if they knew that at any point in the past, she opened her legs to someone they knew. Doesn't matter if it was a mutually satisfying, consensual act. Also doesn't matter if he really likes the woman and would totally date her in any other circumstance. It's all about diminishing a woman down to her sexual organs and her value being placed on who she's slept with in the past. Disgusting. In a man's mind, she's been tainted and can't be taken seriously if she's had a casual moment with someone he knows. To him, it makes him a cuckold, and God only knows, we can't have made up imaginary rules from society dictate who he has a serious interest in. 

Funny enough, stuff like that has never bothered me. Perhaps it was the influence of early television where the same women and men often passed themselves around freely season after season, to one another that gave me the impression that it was okay, but it never bothered me. Truth is, I've had girlfriends tell me that they got with my exes and I never flinched. I think the worst is when a girlfriend told me that she'd slept with Fred back in the day. Yeah, I paused. I stopped- took about 20 seconds, exhaled, and moved on. Never hated her, never changed up our dynamic. Not like I was with him at the time.

So yeah, I don't subscribe to this "once I slept with him, he's off-limits for the rest of my life!" bullshit. I've got other friends it's happened with also (not with Fred) and it's never bothered me, especially if I wasn't sleeping with the guy at the time. My only thing is that before I'd approach a guy I knew my homegirl dated, I'd call her first, to make sure she's cool. And if she is, it's game on. The way I see it, if a bunch of people are similar ages and hang in similar circles, they likely have a lot in common, so it only makes sense that a person who could be into me could also be into a mutual friend, or vice versa. So just because a guy ain't quite what I'm looking for, he might be perfect for a girlfriend of mine, so who am I to block that? But clearly, not everyone feels that way.

While I've always been pretty visible in these streets and in spite of what many people tried to claim about me at some point, I never slept around in my social circles. Sure, I'd talked to a guy or two, but for actual sex, I just tended to get with guys outside of where I hung out. Meaning that no matter what folks claimed about me (and yes, there were tons of whispers), I wasn't getting down like that.

That being said, I feel okay holding my head high, flirting and laughing knowing that the men I'm around ain't getting it, even if I know they want it- which brings me back to my crush. He and I run in similar circles. I've accepted that he and I won't go there, which sucks in many ways. But I also love that it means that our friendship won't get ruined. God knows I've had enough of that. 

However, the one or two men who I am open to getting with all seem to have some kind of connection to my crush. Don't get me wrong, if the right guy steps to me in the right way, I'm not going to stop my own blessings. The crush is taking care of his business and building things. I respect it and I care about him, so I'd never block his work. But there is no doubt in my mind that if I was to pursue things with men that have a connection to him, whether they flourished or crashed and burned immediately, things would never be the same with my crush and I.

I love my crush, in a genuine way, and I'd never want to tarnish our friendship. So while I occasionally smile and wink at fellows when I'm out, I'm always careful to not open myself up to being viewed as a pass around. I only lean into men who show men genuine interest, not passing whimsy, and that's kept me from becoming a woman who everyone has shared.

I'm not sure if my crush and I will have a genuine shot at things in the future. And if things level out and we're both in a good space to explore where we might go, I don't want the stench of a man he's known for years to be what keeps things from opening up.

Fucking male ego.

Flower Print Dress- The Boogey Man in Our Minds

A few years back, I found myself visiting with a homeboy at his house. At the time, he had a woman living there, and it was the world's worst kept secret that she'd had a big crush on him. I knew of her in passing, but I wouldn't call us friends, although we were certainly friendly. While at his home, he and I sat in the living room and chatted. A few minutes later, she walks in. He immediately looked up and said to her "why are you wearing a dress?" She shrugged innocently and sat down to watch television. A few minutes later, a roommate walks in, sees the woman and he too asked "why are you wearing a dress?" Again, she shrugged, innocently getting up to walk into another room.

Only after I'd left did I realize what had just happened. She saw me and felt that I was her competition for his affections and got into gear to show him what she had to offer. Funny enough, I felt that the flower bodycon dress she wore was ugly and tacky. And the fact is, he was just a friend and I had zero desire or intention to move things outside of that zone. Still though, in her mind, she created a scenario that required her to dress up to show her imaginary competitor that she was boss, while I was completely oblivious to her intentions.

In another instance, I have another close guy friend. This guy dated a woman off and on for almost a decade. And I can only describe that woman as absolutely stunning. She's a perfect 10 and I'd give any major organ to spend a day looking like her. She has a major social media following and she's literally been in the presence of rock stars. And my buddy would share how she'd occasionally make snide comments about me. She'd share with him thoughts that I was in love with him (absolutely not true). I've encountered her out in passing, and I've always waved and greeted her. I saw her one day and said hello, followed by her name and she gave me some half-assed wave back. I can't lie, I was pretty pissed off. Like bitch, you been fucking one of my closest friends YEARS, you know who the fuck I am!!! It won't kill you to wave back at me! It is absolutely absurd to me that a woman that gorgeous could look at lil old round, goofy me and be intimidated by my friendship with him. In my mind, a man would be crazy to leave her for me, but in spite of it all, she practically hides whenever I see her out.

***

While attending Southwest Dekalb High School, I was fortunate enough to make friends with a lot of different people and many of us are still in touch. A group of the friends still hang out and meet up all over the world and have a picnic in Clayton County during Memorial Day Weekend every year. They're all quite successful and I was pretty cool with most of them. One of them, I'll call Bernard, I used to be pretty tight with. When I saw Bernard this year at the picnic, I reminded him that we used to be closer and that we'd have to do that again. He agreed. I voluntold him that I'd be spending the night at his house while we caught up (no weird stuff implied) and he agreed.

With all of my recent running around, I'd forgotten, until another homegirl, also a classmate, reminded me that this was the weekend we were set to meet up. I immediately contacted him and apologized for forgetting and offered to come by later than anticipated, and he agreed. He told me to bring my friend and she was on board. I told him that I felt like getting in the water and asked if he had a lake or pool nearby and he offered that he had a pool in his backyard. "Say less," I responded.

We pulled up to his home around 8pm. I instantly walked up to another classmate from the crew and gave him a warm hug. I'd first noticed this other classmate at the picnic this year, when we'd given strong side eyes and another tight embrace. I perched myself by that classmate, while my homegirl and I made drinks. Almost immediately, the tequila kicked in. I walked around and found Bernard and we briefly chatted. I complimented his lovely home. We'd noticed his girlfriend and another woman walking out of a room. Bernard indicated being upset about the women supposedly hiding secrets. I told him to let it ride, as women sometimes girl talk, and it's likely nothing. Bernard shared thoughts that she was acting strange and he intended to get to the bottom of it. He excused himself to go chat with her, but before leaving said "this isn't about you," not that I thought it was. I walked back to the other man and continued my flirt as we listened to music poolside.

The night wore on, and the drinks continued to flow. Before I knew it, I was in the pool and sailing. I got out and rested on the deck as I started to feel everything kicking in. Bernard's girlfriend walked up to me and told me that he wanted us to know that we were welcome to stay the night, if needed. I thanked her, but old her that my friend and I would be heading on home that evening. The music settled into the background and I quietly told myself no more drinks for the evening, as I knew that I had to drive an hour and a half that night, and work in the morning. 

I noticed both men slowly walking into the home as I settled in on the deck. In perhaps an hour or so, I saw that the 4 last women standing were me, the woman I'd ridden with, Bernard's girlfriend, and another woman friend of Bernard's (I'll call her YaYa). I'd started telling YaYa about the challenges of having a woman's group and putting forth the effort for women who don't always understand the difficulties of reaching out to a dozen or more women per month and sending them information and selling them on the benefits of a free support group, for them to not respond. How they'll ask me to keep inviting them, as though I'm an endless supply of empathy and time. I mean, I'm human, I got my limits too, ya know? YaYa had a quiet but firm understanding of how daunting it can be to fight through your own trauma enough to show up for help and I appreciated her wisdom and I shared that with her.

Moments later, Bernard's girlfriend walks up to me and implied that the party was over. I assured her that I understood and explained that due to all of the liquor, I'd appreciate about 10 more minutes while I sober up enough to get us to a Waffle House to eat. I knew I was in no condition to drive for 90 minutes, but I knew I could at the very least get us to a Waffle House. She said okay, and that she'd start shutting things down and circle back in 10. I continued to chat with YaYa and moments later, she reappeared, stated that she needed to begin turning out the lights. YaYa offered that it had been less than 10 minutes and that if the girlfriend was that pressed, she was welcome to go to bed while she sat with us as we got ready to go. His girlfriend insisted that she is the "woman of the home" and that my friend and I should leave so that she could continue to turn off lights and wind down.

I couldn't believe it. Was I seriously explaining to this bitch that I'm still a lil tipsy and need a minute to get my head together to drive safety, and she was like "nah"? I understand that I hadn't been around Bernard like that in some years, but my classmates and I are still very much like family and I knew that had he been awake, he would have told me to take all the time I needed to ensure that I was fit to drive. He also would have basically told her to STFU about her priority being turning out lights, over the safety of my friend and I getting home.

Crazy enough, we had to drive to 3 different Waffle House locations, before we found one that would allow us to dine in. Lord knows, greasy food, grits, and those horrible lights do wonders to sober up the system.

While dining, I'd asked my friend if she felt the same way about the encounter as I did. She'd agreed. Especially the woman's statement of being "the woman of the home" and how she felt the need to throw her weight around and prioritize us leaving immediately, in an unsafe state, even when another viable option (YaYa) was available. 

I began to ponder if I should mention it to Bernard. It sounds like there'd been some weird stuff between them earlier, and I certainly didn't want to interfere. But some heffa throwing you out of of your friend's home, as he sleeps, after you clearly stated you need a minute to get your head together, is nasty work. I wanted to believe that she was just being weird, but I couldn't help but go back to his statement... "it's not about you." Cuz the more I look at it, it seems like maybe it really was about me.

Bernard is a highly accomplished and educated man in a small town. He's got a beautiful home on a ton of land. He's traveled all over the world. He's certainly a catch, but he's just a friend. I've never even kissed that man. I also thought back on the last barbeque, which had been the most I'd seen of him in ages. I'd wondered if she was there? We stood close to talk, but only because we had to, because the music was loud. I started to put the pieces together. And it wasn't pretty. I straddled the fence on needing to share my concerns with him, but it occurred to me that he'd want to know if his girlfriend is throwing out his drunk friends before they were fit to drive. He'd never stand for something like that, especially since there's nothing to be worried about anyway. I figured that she'd found her unicorn in a sea of broke men in their small Georgia town and tried to sink her hooks the best way she knew how. If only she understood, I'm not your enemy, sis. At the rate you're going, you are your own enemy!

Driving back to Atlanta, I couldn't help but to play things over in my head. Just like with my other homeboy, I'm not thinking about him! Not only that, his girlfriend is an absolute baddie in her own right, I genuinely don't think I could touch her if I wanted to. I couldn't believe a woman would consider me her competition, simply because I see us as two separate entities, certainly not worthy of competing. I'm over here, just as weird and goofy as I wanna be, where is the danger in that?! And this ain't even considering my celibacy journey. Sure, I'm cute and funny, but I'd never look at a woman like me and assume that she'd be a danger. Cuz I don't see a man chasing me down or leaving his woman for me. Cuz huh?!

The next morning, I stumbled into my part-time job and agreed afterwards to go meet with a woman I consider to be my adopted younger sister. We'd stopped at the new Barnes and Noble, and when walking in, she spotted a well-known political influencer. He was quite a stunning man and I watched him eyeing my friend. I loved it for her. She walked up to him and said that she'd a huge fan and he thanked her, before walking off with the woman he'd been there with. My friend gushed about how much more handsome he is in person and I shared with her that I'd seen him eyeball her and shared my thoughts that under other circumstances, she'd definitely be in there with him.

We stopped for coffee later and we'd talked about her feelings that she wasn't up to snuff to get with a man with that much exposure right now. My friend certainly has her own following, but nothing like the 1m+ followers that he had. She's finishing up school and discussed her frustration with not being able to focus on her social media presence as she'd like. Yes, she's followed by some heavy hitters, but balancing so much makes it hard for her to post as much as she'd like.

She shared her thoughts that getting with a man of that caliber would require her to be a much sharper version of herself than she currently is. I was floored. I'm not kidding when I tell you that she is absolutely one of the baddest women I've ever met! She's an absolute rockstar. She's funny, kind, highly intelligent, takes no shit, and she's one of the most loyal creatures you could ever have the pleasure of coming across. Her feeling that she's not up to snuff to match wits with the man she seeks is insane to me! It occurred to me that while I see her as an absolute force to be reckoned with, she's still struggling to find that version of herself.

I then told her about the lobbyist who I'd met while I was in grad school. He'd told me that he wanted me, but I couldn't see it. This was a man who'd worked directly with Bush2 and worked with the Obamas when they were still in Illinois. I couldn't believe that a man who was internationally celebrated could want lil' old me, who was a single mother, working at Petsmart, struggling through graduate school. I'd imagined that he'd want some woman far more poised and from a fancier school, who was prettier and more pedigreed. Like, what the hell would he want with lil old me?!

But that was about 10 years ago. I see myself now, and I finally see what he saw. I didn't know what my final form would look like, but I now see myself as the poised, bright woman that he'd observed. If I met a doctor or a lawyer, I know for a fact that I could go toe-to-toe with him. But I wouldn't have seen it then. And that's what I want my lil' sis to see. I want her to see the bad ass chick that I see. 

It's crazy how so many women can be so talented and beautiful, while still nervous about the existence of problems that don't exist. Yet still, so many people do so much to fight those shadows. How we often create monsters in our own mind, and we blame those monsters and we fear those monsters. Not realizing how many women are battling their own demons that are mere figments of our imagination. And while we look at her and believe that she's the ultimate monster, internally, we're all out here actually battling shadows.

The Insanity of Choosing Myself

I will never not stan for my dear Dr. Y. She's helped me more than anyone will ever know. She's like a living diary/mirror. She holds me accountable and she asks questions that really make me assess if my actions are moving me towards my goals. She held me together while house shopping and watched me break down over my love life repeatedly. I will never deny that she changed my life for the better.

But like all humans, she and I differ in some fundamental ways. She's an older married Christian woman and here's me, a single Buddhist woman who is younger and currently making up for lost time in my social life.

In our most recent session, I'd talked to her about how things torpedoed with Charles and how I have every intention of going back into my celibacy bubble. I'd admitted to her that I love sex and intimacy (don't most of us?), but I've lived enough to realize that blindly chasing love and intimacy has led to some catastrophic moments for me. I'd rather live without sex than continuing to put myself out there. My dear doc pushed back and said to me "I feel like you're punishing yourself by choosing not to have sex." I replied by comparing it to being diabetic. Like I love chocolate. I mean I love chocolate. But at some point, I gotta put on my big girl panties and acknowledge that too much chocolate isn't good for me. I can't eat it daily without the risk of some serious health complications. 

I mean, sex is amazing. It's fun, I get a genuine dopamine rush from it. Honestly, there have been a few men sniffing around who have no idea how much I'd love nothing more than having them over for a good bedtime wrestle. I don't masturbate, but lord knows, I've certainly laid down in my bed and imagined a handsome face joining me at night. And while I flirt with those men, I keep a safe distance because I don't want to open up the possibility of anything happening in a way that I'm not ready for.

I'd confessed to a girlfriend that I was agitated by Dr. Y suggesting that I was choosing to punish myself. My friend, who is going through a divorce after a couple of decades with her ex, agreed with my doctor. She too felt that I was leaning in the most difficult route, but choosing to abstain from sex. That made me even more annoyed. After all the progress I've made to decenter men and sex, here I was being told that by making the mature decision to abstain, I'm punishing myself. WTF?!

I then took to asking a group of women, explaining how annoyed I was that I was being accused of punishing myself by choosing to stand down on dating. One woman made a very good point that for people who have been married for a long time, they have no idea what it's like to actually have to choose you. I sat with that. It makes sense that for a person who's whole life has been prioritizing partnership and the good of the family as a unit, it would be hard to wrap your mind around only focusing on your own wants and needs. Where as, I've been alone for so long, I had to finally learn that it's okay to center on myself and my own needs, than the needs of a possible partner (who doesn't even exist in my world right now). Other single women seem to understand, as evidenced by how many of them around me who are also opting for celibacy lately.

In spite of what some may think, that I'm open to a healthy dating scenario, but I no longer want to be a woman who is out here chasing the unknown. I've seen how much a lot of men will look you in your face and use you for your body, just so they can enjoy a quick ego boost and throw you to the wind. I also don't view abstaining as some sort of punishment. I've been sexually active for nearly 30 years of my life. In that time, I've dated models and not so beautiful men. I've dated financially secure men and brokies. I've been with tall guys and short guys. I've dated fit guys and big guys. I've had little dix and men who could possible put you in the hospital if you didn't shut it down early enough. I've had tame sex, I've had some pretty wild encounters too. In so many words, I've had enough sex. More than enough. I'm not curious. I don't feel like I'm missing out. I don't feel like I'm making up for anything. Dare I say, I've had more sex and more fun sex than many women my age, and I'm completely cool tapping out for a whle.

I guess I'll have to just be okay in my own bubble, making my own decisions, protecting my own peace, and guiding my own heart. It's been working so far, right?

Synchronicity

Leaning into womanist theory, one of the things that I've noticed is how women have been conditioned to tiptoe around the feelings of men, even when they're treating us horribly. I've taken note and decided that I will no longer play nice with men who disrespect me. I'm not going to hug a guy when I'm out, after I've watched him either ghost me or just be shitty overall. As I've seen how much men adore my bubbly personality, I feel that they see that and don't think that I have actual feelings. So when they disrespect or hurt me, there's no reason to feel bad or be held accountable, cuz she doesn't have feelings like a real live person, right? WRONG! I'm no longer in the business of making men comfortable with making me uncomfortable. I'm not an inanimate toy, I am a woman, a human being, and you will respect me as such. That's on period.

I used to be the woman who forgave and forgot. And what I soon realized is that when you easily forgive a man for his misgivings, all he has taken from it is that he can be as abusive as he wants towards you and you'll always welcome him back. As women, we have to hold them accountable and we aren't doing that when we silently forgive them and act as though they were too damned dumb to know what they did. They know they hurt us, they just don't care. And it's up to us to no longer hide that pain. The fact is that we don't owe anyone a pretty picture of our suffering.

I've talked at length about learning to fall back and let the spirits guide my steps. I can honestly say that my spirits have never lied to me. Sometimes, I listened to them, sometimes, I didn't. But they were never wrong. My only regret is that it took me so long to learn to fall back and trust them. After things happened on my birthday, it was quite a shock to my system. The guy from that night (I'll call him Charles) was an old friend from way back. I'd seen him in passing on occasion over the years, but we hadn't spent much time chopping it up in over a decade. 

It took quite a bit of processing for me to make out exactly what had just occurred. I've learned to sometimes take to my tarot cards for a bit of guidance. I wanted to know what to make of things. On two separate nights, I pulled cards about Charles. And out of 52 cards, each time, I pulled the same one (YES, I shuffled them!). The card I pulled each time was about divine timing. I couldn't figure it out, but I started to recognize that it was what it was and I'd understand it when the time was right. But I knew that getting the same card twice was significant.

Anyway, last night, after a few weeks, I finally felt ready to share what I'd done. The spirit finally moved me to talk about it. And I'm going through some downtime at work, which allowed me to finish it on the clock. I decided after work to get out and stretch my legs. I knew I wasn't going to be there long, but I decided to stop by a bar where I knew a few buddies would be. I stepped in and began making rounds, hugging loved ones, and trying to maneuver through to see who I'd missed. I stopped for a sec and scanned the room when I'd gotten a tap. I looked back and a gentleman pointed me to the guy sitting at the table with him. I recognized him instantly. He was the teacher from my past. The person who'd hurt me so much that I'd actually leaned into the year and a half of celibacy.

He stretched his arm out, as if he expected a warm, friendly "Malika hug." But he didn't get that. I essentially instead cursed that man out like he owed me money. I'm grateful that the DJs are so loud in there, because I let his ass have it. In my rage, I don't quite remember exactly what I'd said, but I recall starting my rant with "FUCK YOU!" and ending my tirade with "you can eat a bag of dicks!" I'm serious y'all. Eff turning the other cheek, we about about to both be uncomfortable in this bitch, ya dig?

I'm not quite sure who saw or heard it. I was with my people so I wasn't worried. I didn't even quite know that I held that much rage towards him until the moment struck. I think I would have been okay if he'd just nodded his head in a passive hello, but it was the opening up his arms to ask for a hug that did it. That was what really sent me over the edge. To know me is to love me, and to get cursed out by one of the friendliest women you know means you did some shit to deserve it. I tried again to find a few of my friends for final hugs before exiting, but I was so thrown that I just headed for the door. I called my bestie first and she patiently listened to me tell her that I'd run into him and followed it up by cursing him out.

Next up, I called a woman who is quickly becoming my lifeline, my Boss. I've talked to the Boss extensively about my celibacy and what it meant to me. The processing, the urges, the questions, all of it. I couldn't help but to notice that how 2 hours after posting my blog about breaking my celibacy, I saw the man who broke me to the point where I leaned into it. I immediately went back to those two tarot cards that had warned me of the divine timing. Yet again, they were right. That timing was everything, even though I certainly didn't see it coming. I intend to go back to abstaining in the meantime.

I pride myself on not being petty these days. But my oh my, did it feel good to let his ass have it!

Other Side of the Game

Ugh. I'm not going to share much about it, but my birthday... I broke the seal. A year and a half. Drunk, late, old friend... you get the idea. I was hopeful it would be more, even casually, but I was also prepared for a fuckboy ending. I won't give the boring details, but it literally ended a few days later, with me in his bed. I damned near felt Kirk Whalum's saxophone screaming in my ear to get the hell on. I heard my angels/the voices/the spirits/the ancestors/God/The Universe/yo mama, yelling in my head to get the fuck out of his bed, grab my shit, go home and block him. And that's exactly what I did.

If I learned nothing else from a long bout of celibacy, it was that I don't need any man that brings confusion and chaos to my life, nor am I going to waste time with a man who is competing with me. Crazy that he was competing, because since he was my boy, I was trying to put him on with some connects I know. I wasn't about to play with his ass though. Every damned time I've ever ignored those voices, I regretted it. Every. Damned. Time. So I did as I was told and got the hell on. Shit happens, 20 year friendship over. No regrets.

It feels like a distant memory. Weirdly enough, I really don't count it. Moving on....

In other news, Pumpkin had his train ride to Denver and then flew to Seattle, where he now is. He managed to stay with my homegirls and their husbands. From what I heard, he's really developed love for the west coast. I'm glad he's enjoying it. I feel like Super Mom, being able to do this for my son. My friends have both contacted me and told me how amazing he is, and how much they've enjoyed having him. It's amazing to know that I raised this kid to be a rock star. And everyone loves their kid, because we're biologically wired to do so. The cool thing is that my kid isn't just someone that I love, he's someone that I actually like and admire. I really miss him and can't wait for him to come home.

On a crazy note, it might just be summertime madness, but I miss Fred. Like bad! I'd even asked a girlfriend for his number, but she loved me enough to tell me no. I accepted it. But then I realized that I actually have his number in one of my old phones. I'm not going to use it, but it's nice to know that it's there. Speaking of trusting my spirits, I was advised not to contact him first, but to let things happen on it's own, and that's what I'm planning to do. I'm planning to take a long weekend in L.A. later this year, but I have no intention to see him. I just need some west coast sun.

I'm ready for the fall to kick in. July/August, I tend to kinda dissociate until the cooler weather kicks in. So that's what I'm doin. Just hanging out until it gets cooler. The women's group that I started is getting some momentum and we're going tubing later this month. I'm so proud of how much we've come together and the progress these wonderful women are making.

I'm blessed.