Conversations About the Future

I love that Love reads my blog and feels free to share his thoughts with me. That being said, I mentioned to him that my blog is not nearly as insane or drama filled as it once was, simply because my life is no longer in that state. At the time I met Love, I was completely over drama-filled men and their other women, lies, etc. By then I'd enrolled in Clark Atlanta University as a graduate student and I've been managing to keep A's in both of the classes I'm taking. I'd sworn to myself that dating was pretty much off limits and despite getting approached by men left and right, my focus was to remain on school, myself, and my son.

I actually met Love while I was in a copy shop, printing out a my paper (which I later got an A on). He read the title over my shoulder and I made a joke about the item he was getting printed up. So Love became love, and romance rides again. Being that I'd already been in the zone to get my life and finances in order, it was a lot easier for me to look at Love and for him to look at me and see that there could definitely be a future for the two of us.

One thing that continues to impress me about him is his willingness to openly communicate with me. We frequently have conversations about things such as finances (things to pay off now and then focus on after the wedding). We talk about children, we've talked about buying a house. Those are the things that let me know he's serious about me and about us. We discuss religion, church, and prayer frequently. Frankly, nothing is off limits for us, which makes me even more comfortable.

The other day we again discussed finances. He asked about my student loans (ouch) and we talked about our goals and necessity of saving money and getting a joint account we could both deposit into. I was floored. I tried so hard in the past to get that kind of progress with my exes, yet here is a man, who on his own, is ready to meet me halfway. So somehow, I managed to go from single sista, ready to take on the world, to happily booed-up woman, ready to tackle the future with a man I'm head over heels for. How lucky am I?

To Be Loved: The Epiphany

So yesterday I promised no more blogs about Love, so I decided to make this moreso about what I realized about the emotion of love and how it relates to relationships. Yesterday, I spilled my guts about my apprehension of relaxing and allowing myself to enjoy Love, for my fear of abandonment. I talked to a bestie about my fears and she reminded me that love isn't supposed to hurt and that its just that I've been hurt so much that I'd come to associate love with pain.

Coincidentally enough, I saw Love yesterday, and he was awesome enough to show concern about my son when I wasn't able to get through to his dad's cell AND he gifted me with these.

(Not just one set of flowers but TWO!!) :)

Love has urged me a few times to let him love me, and truthfully, I didn't really know how. Something so simple was really so foreign to me. Love and I are different as night and day, but last night it occurred to me the 2 things he and I have in common. The first thing is that we laugh. We laugh all day about the most random things. Even in the midst of kissing, we're calling one another old and cracking about who's funnier. (I am...) The second is that just like me, he only wants to love and to be loved. That's it. I didn't realize it before, but in many of my relationships, I walked in giving so much, not realizing that I was with men that didn't know how to give or receive love. All I'd wanted was to love a man honestly, and have him love me the same way.

I'm not saying that men didn't love me. I have no doubt that Deen and David both loved me. However, they didn't know how to show it, nor did they know how to take it in and let it grow. So it sat and stewed and created a long, bitter, drawn out mess. I know both of them and I know that were ever they are right now, they're still doing the same insanity.

But back to Love/love. I realized that him wanting to love me so closely matches me wanting to love them. Only this time, I'm blessed to be next to a man that loves love. He loves to love and all he really wants in return is love. Pure, genuine, honest love. All he wants is a woman that can meet him and love him in return. No extra funniness. No lies. No games. I think I'm finally ready, after all of the craziness I've been through, to finally love a man and to let Love love me in return.

The True Test of My Self Esteem

I celebrated my birthday Thursday and it was undeniably the best birthday I've ever had. I saw my family, hung with my best friend, looked good, felt good, randomly kept running into friends who greeted me warmly with "HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!" where ever I went that day. It was beautiful.

I ended up unexpectedly in Starbucks and started talking to a man as I left out. I was shocked when he asked for my number, but we exchanged Facebook info. I contacted him a few days later. He messaged me the next day and decided to hang out for a while. He was sexy, smart, nice body, and a sweet guy overall. The only issue was that he made it known that he was into intimacy and I let him know that I wasn't looking for the same. Despite our attraction to one another, we decided to stay platonic friends.

That evening, I got bored and asked him if I could Google him. He said sure. But something strange happened. The drop down box had his name followed by the name of a well-known Black actress. I clicked on it only to learn that he was her "boy toy" at one period in time. I couldn't believe it. There were plenty of modeling pictures of him and pictures of him and the actress booed up together. I was floored.

I asked him about it and he shrugged it off. It was insane to see the person I occasionally cook for and hang out with, hugged up with a glamorous public figure. I remember my best friend and I in middle school discussing the tv show we watched her own. And now she's here. Or at least there. I like the dude as he's funny, smart, kind and all of that. But he's screwing HER. I'm not jealous. He's a great guy, but personality wise, he and I could never do the long term thing. I really enjoy having him in my life. But wow. Wow.

My ego just deflated.

The Hair Dilemma

I swear I'm going to get back to my baby and start blogging again. Writing is my passion. It is my love. It is not only what I'm good at, its what I'm great at. I'm funny, warm, charming, and charismatic as fuck. Man, I seriously I missed the feeling of opening up a new page and the excitement of knowing my topic, but not knowing my words and then the eventual beauty of reading back over my masterpiece. Fuck, I'm good at this. Anyway, off that rant, and on to my topic at hand- my hair.

I've had locs now for about 9 years. I originally started them because I was about to start school at Kennesaw and I needed something that would be less work than the cornrows and box braids I had been previously rocking. My hair reached a very plain length to the middle of my back about 3 years ago, when I decided to cut it above my shoulders.

Since then, my hair has grown back, but this time around, I'm a lot better at taking care of it. I've learned that when you've got long dread locs, you have to cut them into layers and a dab of hair color goes a long way. I'd be lying if I said that my hair was anything other than incredible. Seriously, I'm not just bragging. Aside from my writing, my hair is the one thing I managed to make look spectacular. And therein lies the problem.

I had a situation a few months back that shook me to my core. Its safe to say that it was a life changing situation. Since then I've decided to take a good long look at myself and my choices. I've had to completely leave some people alone, while others merely took a severe step back in their roles in my life. I also decided to take a major break from dating and sex. That's right, no nookie since February and although I told myself that my birthday would be when I'd open up the heavenly gates again, I see very little chance of anything happening for that to occur by next month, which will be my 33rd.

The crazy thing is that I'm okay without sex. I don't want it. I learned the hard way that sex leads to drama, lies, bullshit and other stuff that I just don't want or need anymore. My focus is myself, my son, grad school and my immediate search of happiness, money, and independence. I've decided that sex would need to take a major back seat and that any man that I make an acquaintance would have to be my friend first before anything could pop off between us. I've decided that to be fair, I let a man know up front that I've got no intentions of having sex.

One guy at the coffeehouse that I routinely go to once looked at my new figure that is now 30 lbs. lighter and suggested we hang one day. I looked him square in his eye and said that we could hang but that there'd be no nookie. He then told me that I'm simply depriving myself and told me a story of another female that made the mistake of telling him the same thing and then getting mad when he later rejected her. I just shrugged and told him that "irregardless" of the fact, I'm not fucking. He and I still see each other around, but he's made no mention of hanging out since. Which is more than cool with me.

That's some other shit dudes appear to be on. When I let some of my former flunkies know that I've given up the stick to focus on my goals, they all feel it necessary to tell me that I'm depriving myself. Man, penises really are stupid. I've gone through more than enough bullshit to know that penis has been my downfall and I don't want any of it. I don't want to be the main chick unless the dude is seriously pulling his weight, and I'm damn sure not playing the side chick anymore. And if that means that I've got to spend some time alone, making the other areas of my life phenomenal, that's just fine by me.

It's awesome to see how well so many of my friends and associates are doing. They're making money on their crafts, starting and running businesses and all kinds of other stuff. Other women are sick of the fucked up dudes they've been with forever and they're getting their shit together to dump their dead weight. I'm happy to see it around me because it helps me to focus on me. And now back to my hair- its a goddamn magnet for lust.

I've always been an outgoing woman, so meeting men has never been an issue for me. Its just that for the first time in my life, I'd like to fly under the radar of men. Don't get me wrong, I'm okay with a man talking to me, liking my personality, and wanting to meet up for lunch or coffee. What I get tired of is sitting in a coffeehouse, minding my business and looking up and realize that three different mofos are periodically staring at me. And among those three does not include the weird dude with Tourette's that always manages to find a goddamn empty seat right next to me. No seriously no matter what time of day or night I'm in there, dude always seems to find a seat right next to me and babbles incoherently to himself while staring at me. It was flattering at first, but now I'd just like to pepper spray him and walk back to my seat. I'm not sure but I think that management might have a bit of a problem with me doing that in the shop. *Mental note- find out if coffeehouse people are okay with me pepper spraying weird slow dude with Tourette's in front of everyone.*

I know its the freaking hair. Men stare at it, they ask about it, they want to touch it. The ask how long I've had the locs, they notice when I've dyed them, they frequently compliment them. I was riding down the street the other day when I slowed my car at a stop light in front of construction workers. I got the usual stares,did the usual "I'm being friendly and smiling and waving, but I'm really not interested in you" wave and smirk, when one of the dudes complimented my hair. I gave him a tight smile and then said "thank you." He then said "can I run my fingers through it?" What the hell?! I know I sound like a nut, but what the fuck do you want or need to touch my hair for?! I looked at him, shook my head lightly and said back to him "No. No, you cannot touch my hair." That was actually the second encounter I'd had that day regarding some dude outside of my car trying to holler at me while I was driving.

It happens when I walk randomly down the street. It happens when I post Facebook pictures. Men are absolutely obsessed with my hair. And I hate it. Like I said, I'm okay with a guy liking my personality and wanting to get to know me better. But I'm strangely uncomfortable with men lusting after my hair. For the first time in my life, I understand why Muslim women sometimes cover their hair, and conservative Christian women keep their hair tied up. I don't know what it is about the hair, but when it cascades down my back, men look at me like I'm a steak. I feel a tad more guarded when I meet men and its down. I'd considered cutting it, but I really don't want to. I'm considering Bantu knots or a few other styles that would allow me to cover it. I'd even thought of hats, but its way too freaking hot to keep all of this hair covered up.

Some days I also attribute it to the new look since I've slimmed down. So my now 5'8 170 lb frame, gets a lot more love and attention than it did at 200.

And of course with the weight loss came some shopping for new dresses. So sundresses plus locks halfway down a woman's back somehow becomes kryptonite to men. It know its kind of crazy, but as I work on myself, I've also learned to work on my appearance. I threw out a ton of old clothes, making way for new, fashionable, flirty, feminine and trendy looks. So I look and feel like a million bucks now. But the problem is that despite how banging I look, I want to be left alone. I want to be alone with my thoughts. I want to be alone while I write. I want to be completely alone until a man proves that he's finally worth my time. I want to fucking be alone. And the beautiful hair that I'd always wanted (and I finally have) seems to be the one thing in the way to keep that from happening.