I haven't been on here in a while, I am aware. Like everyone else on the planet, this damned virus swept on in and changed the game. The good news is that I am still employed. I'm healthy, although truth be told, I had a wicked bug that kicked my ass early in the year. I spent New Year's Eve and New Year's day at home, in bed, eating ice cream because my throat was on fire! Pretty sure that was this shit that's killing everyone now. I don't get down and out sick very often, but with that bug, I can see how someone with a weakened immune system would suffer. Thank God I got my diabetes under control, plus I've been sticking to being physically active this year. The bad news is that since my clients are no longer able to report to the site, after today I will have to report to work at a different site. In the meantime, stuff has kind of stayed the same. No Fred, no Ted, a few potential suitors, but no one I'd do things long term with. My son is healthy. My lights are on, my rent is paid. I'm trying my damnedest to pay off my car by this time next year. Thus far, my birthday plans of being on a beach in Jamaica have been foiled (then again, anything could happen between now and 3 months from now, but I'm definitely going into hunker down mode, so I'm mentally preparing for the worst and the best). I'm currently at work studying videos about schizophrenia (a very fascinating disease), while working on my budget for the rest of the year. I'm good. I'm blessed. I'm as ready as I can be.
So my goal in life (outside of general happiness, being a good mother, etc.) has been weight loss. Even while in the midst of my 30s, I knew that by the time I hit 40, I wanted a fit body. I'd always think to myself #FineBy40, my mantra to remind me that I had to get my shit together.
I've had my moments back and forth with diabetes, and those only intensified my knowledge that I had to eventually get my body in check. Entering into 39, I swore that by 40, I'd have the body I'd always wanted. I spent my 39th birthday (summer) in Reno Nevada, pigging out at Carl's Jr. By the time I returned from my birthday Fall season hit, and despite my best efforts, I gave into my sugary cravings. Thanksgiving, I was with family and naturally I only went in on all of the junk food provided. Christmas hit, and I was moderately in control of my diet, but New Year's Eve hit, and I happened to be home from work and sick. Something in my spirit just knew that my favorite ice cream would be on sale at Publix, and I was right! I killed off a half gallon in one day, and went back the next day and finished off another half gallon. But then January 2nd happened and I knew it was time.
No more holidays, no more excuses, it was time. I cut out the carbs, and I upped my water intake. I weighed myself and I shook my head in disappointment. I rejoined my local gym, started walking in my neighborhood and hoped for the best. "Fine by 40!" I'd tell myself or anyone else around me. I'd started planking and just being overall ready. I'd pace heavily around Kroger and Target, all in an effort to complete daily step goals.
Two weeks in (mid January), I started to see small results, but I'd started to wonder if this could really work? I mean, my goal was to be down to a size 12 (from a size 14) by March first, and then on to a size 10 by May 1st. It seemed difficult, but in my mind, I knew it was doable. But then something happened. Over the weekend, I was out with some girlfriends, and I was warned that I needed to wear a dress for this particular outing. I was lost, but I picked on that I felt would do me justice. But then something happened. I looked, like good. I twirled in the mirror at home and wondered when I'd started to look this slim. I was legit killing the game! Another major shock came when I looked at a pic of myself and my comrades, when I noticed how small I looked in my profile. Damn, Malika, we like that?! Then to further my surprise, I noticed the next day that all of my jeans were looking a bit big. I mean, it happens, and all, but hmmm... what if?
I looked at all of these large pairs of pants and wondered, exactly how small am I? There was a Target up the street, and I knew there was only one way to find out. I hit up the cavalry, but no one was available. It would have to be a solo mission, but I did remain on the phone with a girlfriend, alerting her to my quest- is Malika a size 12 a full month ahead of her goal?! I looked around for the jeans section, before I finally found two pairs of size 12 jeans. I wanted to be sure that it wasn't just a fluke and I didn't just pick up a forgiving pair. I held my breath, and waited.
I walked into the dressing room, still on the phone, and read aloud the "size 12m" written on the pants. It was now or never. I slide them up and buttoned them. Holy sh- wait. I pulled them on and BUTTONED them?! I didn't struggle to do it, they fastened naturally! A pair of size 12 skinny jeans fit me?! After only a month?! WHAT?! I whisper yelled into the phone "holy shit, these jeans!" But then, quick to remember that they could be a trick pair, I pulled up the other pair of jeans to slide on. JESUS FUCKING CHRIST, THEY FIT TOO!!! Oooh lawd, I'm a size 12 a full month before my goal date! I've been a solid size 14 for the last 2 years, and now look at me! I stared in the mirror, instantly recognizing that there had been some definite slimming to my waistline, and even my face looked a bit slimmer.
Size 12 ain't a super model size at all, still kinda fluffy, but with 4 and a half months to go, and with an undeterred goal of #FineBy40, I know that my goal of size 10 (possibly even a size 8) by my June birthday is possible. The wild thing about weight loss is how it messes with you. I haven't even lost all of my weight, but there are feelings of guilt, feelings of pride, feelings of "I did it!" and feelings of anxiety, all wrapped up inside my early accomplishment of my goal of weight loss.
What I'd realized made me so anxious is how much I'd always had my fluffy exterior, and now here I am without it. I mean, it's still here, but definitely shedding. I have no desire to give up my weight loss routine, I fully intend to march toward my #FineBy40 goal, full throttle. Because at the end of the day, I'll always be that pudgy insecure girl deep down, and no weight loss goals will ever take that away.
I can't really complain about a lot in my life right now. Things are going well at my job, my son is flourishing at school, my goal has been #FineBy40 in time for my trip to Jamaica for my birthday and I'm doing an amazing job of sticking to this diet, which is resulting in weight loss, increased health, and my skin is looking clutch!
I've made it a goal to begin a support group for women and I'm just looking for a good site to let me host it. I'm observing a lot of women that are struggling, and I would love for us to come together to uplift and begin to heal. I can definitely see that the worst thing about growing older is being able to decipher the ugly and selfishness that exist in a lot of people. I'm even to the point where I'm able to see it a mile away and cut it off before it gets too close and damages my peace and my spirit. It is a pretty immaculate place to belong in. I'm still all about protecting my peace and there are still people I wouldn't touch me with a 10-foot pole.
But the thing that sucks about being awesome is that men see it. They want to possess it and own it. They bask in it, they glow in it. Men love how open I am. The bullshit is that I've had numerous men that still attempt on a regular basis to leave me neatly in a closet, until their bullshit with the other chick goes left. I'm so over that shit. I was about to write a little anecdote about some bullshit that I just encountered, but it ain't even worth it.
On another note, a girlfriend from high school and I have been hanging pretty tough lately. By an odd twist of fate, in our early 20's, she and I happened to live in the same apartment complex, on the total opposite side of town from where we grew up. During this time, naturally, she and I hung out, and I happened to meet the guy she was dating, a guy I'll call Dwayne.
Over the years, I started to see Dwayne more as he started to blow up and do big things. And recently, Dwayne landed on a reality show. Needless to say, I'm not saying who he is, so don't ask. Anyway, my friend has always held a candle for Dwayne, as they've maintained their on/off thing for nearly 20 years. The only thing is that Dwayne has publicly stated that he's heavily involved with another woman. This woman is prominently on his social media and featured heavily with him on the reality show. Bottom line, he gotta girl.
On a recent bored outing, my homegirl and I managed to go to where we knew Dwayne would be. He initially looked me in the face and ignored me (which I'm not at all okay with, but whatever), and I had to chase him to tell him that an old friend wanted to say hello. He promptly turned around and greeted my friend with a long, warm hug. As he departed, he held her hand a bit longer before he walked away. I witnessed this. It was kind of sweet, actually. My friend and I left shortly after.
Yesterday, my friend started to say that she thinks dude is her "one that got away." She wants nothing more than to tell him that she's ready to be with him. Thankfully, since I was there to witness the fuckery, I had to remind her that their early relationship wasn't exactly all roses. She lamented and agreed, but still feels that they may have a chance at something.
I told her that I was glad that we were on the phone during this conversation, because otherwise I would have hurt her feelings with the look on my face. I pretty much said "Far be it for me to tell you that you can't fuck a married man, if you do, that's between you and your god. But the fact is, at least in this juncture, that ship has sailed, and he's made his choice, and unfortunately, that choice ain't you. If you wanna be his side chick (not that I recommend it, because his role on a popular reality show would blow her shit up if it gets exposed, plus that's just not an overall good look), accept that's the role you'll have."
She knew I was right. She's still battling it. She stalks his Instagram page, looking for subtle signs from him (I think these are just random coincidences/messages). She'd even considered going to where she knows he'll be and just get if off her chest that she knows he's moved on, but apologizing for some bullshit that she'd done in the past that hurt their relationship. I recognize the importance of speaking your peace (hence this blog I've been venting to for 10 years), but the thing about having "those conversations" is that you can never anticipate how they'll go. It may go swimmingly, and you and the other party hug and embrace, and all is forgiven, etc. Or the other person could curse you out. The other person could absolutely hate your guts, and rather than them letting you pour out your heart and soul, tell you how filthy and horrible you are. Or in their case, as I'd said to her, he could leave his current situation (which he ain't but whatever), go be with my friend and throw her and her kids into the spotlight as his side chick and have her and her whole damned life on the internet. Messy boots. Even she admitted that she'd hate to be on tv and gain fame/notoriety for being a side chick on reality tv. Certainly not the best way to build a loyal clientele.
It's coincidental that she and I are going through our bit of grieving these old relationships together. Ted is dead. At least to me. I could take him back, but I love myself far too much to subject myself to anymore of his shit. Fred is still in L.A. and despite the fact that I'm planning for another pilgrimage this May/June, I've pretty much blocked his ass, so naturally, I don't anticipate seeing him. L.A. is pretty massive, so the chances of bumping into him are minuscule. I still spend time with Justin, whom I adore, and who happens to be a perfect blend of both Fred and Ted, but I know that Justin is not in an emotional space to give me anything more and I respect that.
So while my friend and I go through all of this, at least in the meantime, she plans to join me in my pilgrimage to Chicago, my birthday trip to Jamaica, and she may even join me for my Cali trip and hit Vegas with me. We can't just start neglecting ourselves just because shit ain't the way we want it to be. Sometimes I wonder if my homegirl is enamored (at least in part) by Dwayne's fame and being on the show. I mean, don't get me wrong, she was there before the cameras and the cash, but I'm pretty sure that seeing him play the role of the doting loving love interest has only piqued her curiosity and guilt about what could have been. In the meantime, I'm reeling from being the woman who men always seem to want to return to after they fuck up (I now have a no return policy because clearly these Negroes are just really getting to full of shit) and my home girl is battling what is, versus what could be. Introspection is a hell of a drug.
Has it really been nearly 2 months since I posted? I guess I'm back to my pre-Pete writing schedule. I like to write when new an exciting things are happening, and unfortunately, that has not really been the case as of late. I thought I was going to be able to write about Ted, but yeah, that's definitely a wrap. *sigh* I was upset and hurt initially. I was fucking angry, hurt, disappointed, all of that. But I'm not any more. I'm just over it. No Fred, no Ted... Not much of a coincidence that they both fell off within 6 months of one another. I'm all about this season of shedding and becoming a better version of myself.
At least I'm doing well in being active in this diet. The goal is #FineBy40, and not like I'm having to try hard for it. The goal is to be on a beach in Jamaica to ring in my 40th. Totes doable. My spirit is good, my will power is good, my stomach is flabby... such is the game, I guess, but hopefully not much longer. Got this gym membership reactivated as well. Now is all about the execution and countdown to 40.
The last month has been something else. The last 3 months in particular, but the last month has really been the kick in the teeth. Freaking Mercury Retrograde. I used to not pay much attention to such things, but working with individuals with mental illness has completely shown me how real this stuff really is. I really don't even know where to start. I guess I'll start with the Mean Girls shit.
A former friend of mine turned on me one day. Like straight up flipped. I know that it had to do with her jealousy of me, which is crazy to think, simply because my life ain't really shit to be jealous of. To be fair, it wasn't so much my life, it was more so the fact that I have an active dating life. When we were friends, she'd occasionally let it slip that she wished she had the male attention that I have, and I always made it a point to let her know that all that glitters ain't gold. Sure, guys wanna fuck me, and guys love to spend time with me, but none of them are serious. But she didn't see that. She'd even say to me, I'd like to know what it's like to have a guy just want to fuck me. I'd even told her about how when I lost 30 lbs, I learned quickly that these men wanted to fuck me, and that number increased, but that was it. I had the same financial problems, all of that. No one was proposing to me, no one took me on serious dates, I was the same person, with the same problems, just skinnier. And she still said "I'd like to know that feeling."
You'd think that after my previous experiences with jealous friends, that I'd know to cut this bitch before she became toxic. Funny enough, before shit got too bad, I'd gotten a feeling about her that reminded me of my former best friend who also turned out to be jealous of me. But I didn't listen. One day, she literally just flipped out of nowhere, and that was that. She'd occasionally put forth a public display of being nice, but whenever I followed up and tried to have a serious discussion, she'd dodge me. She knew what she was doing, but nevertheless, she played the game publicly of being oblivious.
We'd chatted briefly and I thought we were in a space to heal things eventually, but no, she was still on her bullshit. Things came to a head at a mutual friend's event. Not gonna lie, I got into my car and wept. I couldn't believe that someone I'd been nothing but supportive to could be so fucked up to me. Later on, one of her minions made the mistake of making a snide comment on my Facebook post about her. And I let it RIP!! Since I'd abandoned any desire to maintain that friendship, I was finally free to say EVERYTHING that I'd been too classy to release previously. At the end of my response, I stated that would be the last time I would publicly address that and her, and I meant it.
Of course, that's when the Reehive went in on me. I knew that if I read their responses, I'd just want to go back and forth, and I'm just not in that space in my life. Funny enough, the woman who held the event that I'd left in tears from inboxed me, and offered me a lot of support after seeing what was happening. I called a good friend of mine and asked her to log into my facebook account and clean up, delete, whatever needed to be done on that post. My friend then said that she was going to block one of the rees. I told her to do whatever, I wasn't going to read it, I just refused to indulge in it. I was feeling Lil Duval on a whole new level. I said I'm not going back and forth, and I meant it.
I'm not going back and forth with y'all. And I didn't. I'm sure they consider my lack of engaging a victory. Truth is, I don't give a shit. My life is in a good space, my spirit is good, my child is healthy, my health is good. No need to engage in the negative. I didn't and I won't. I'm actually pretty proud of myself. The wild thing is that I genuinely feel lighter. Since I let go of what was obviously a toxic friendship to begin with, I'm free to move forward. My lesson from that situation was to be the bigger person because arguing takes too much effort, and not to surround myself with people that are low-key jealous.
I happened to have a come-to-Buddha with myself recently, and I discovered that I'd let way too many people around me be comfortable with my discomfort. With so many men, and even some friends and family members, I'd simply shut up and not speak up for myself, all for the sake of maintaining the peace. And the result of that was men, friends, and family that would routinely disrespect me, all because I gave them the impression that was okay. So I was suffering silently, so that others could cold be comfortable. And that was my fault. And it now falls on me to end that pattern.
Next up is Ted. We'd ended things, because we were obviously in a different space. And I loved (and still love) him immensely, but I'm just not the same woman. It's not just the dates. I want a future. I want security. I want affection. We called it quits 2 months ago, but we still occasionally text, and I let him know quite honestly that I miss him. I miss us. But I'm not the same woman. I let him know that I'm not trying to be a friend with benefits, nor a cut buddy for the rest of my life. I've got so much to offer, and I deserve more. And for the first time in my life, I'm willing to walk away and be alone until I get exactly what I deserve.
Ted and I talked recently and he said to me "you've changed, and I've stayed the same." I let him know that yes, I've evolved. I'm not the same woman you met 5 years ago.
If we do get back to dealing with one another, an occasional date just to shut me up, followed by 1 year of no action will not suffice. I want to be with a man who actually wants to date me. Not just a man who will do it to shut me up. Not a man who I have to drag out. I deserve dates. I'm fucking incredible. And that's not just me tooting my own horn, but even if I am, so what? Am I not allowed to say that I'm the shit? And it ain't just dates. Where do we stand long-term? I'd like us to explore that, to look at it. I need him to be open to it. The complication is that Ted has truly become one of my best friends. He's been amazing in the field of emotional support. So can we bring that forward?
And truth be told, Ted ain't the only one getting this version of me. All men that I meet are going to be met with the same expectations. Dating, affection, future plans, growth, all of that. I don't want to end up marrying some guy just because we have history. I want to be with a guy I can actually make history with. The unfortunate thing is that I now make a decent amount of money and I continue to run into men that don't make quite the same amount. And truth be told, it ain't that much. I make enough to take care of myself and my son. So any guy making less than me will probably require some coaching to get his coins up. And I'm 39-years-old, I don't really want to be chasing after a dude and be his rock while he figures out his career. There was a good friend I almost got with recently, but the truth is that he was still building parts of himself that I was willing to help him with. And truth be told, I'm glad that fell apart. Because I love him and wish him the best, but I'm not his therapist.
When I was breaking up with baby daddy (a.k.a. El Cluster Fucko) one of my friends said that the song "Brand New Me" by Alicia Keys reminded her of me. I'll be honest and admit that I was hesitant to check it out. But I listened to it. And it made me cry. And I recently pulled it back out. And it still makes me cry. Because this is me now. And I love it.
It's been a while, I'm not who I was before You look surprised, your words don't burn me anymore Been meaning to tell you, but I guess it's clear to see Don't be mad, it's just the brand new kind of me Can't be bad, I found a brand new kind of free
Careful with your ego, he's the one that we should blame Had to grab my heart back God know something had to change I thought that you'd be happy I found the one thing I need, why you mad It's just the brand new kind of me
It took a long long time to get here It took a brave, brave girl to try It took one too many excuses, one too many lies Don't be surprised, don't be surprised
if i talk a little louder If I speak up when you're wrong If I walk a little taller I'd be known to you too long If you noticed that I'm different Don't take it personally Don't be mad, it's just the brand new kind of me And it ain't bad, I found a brand new kind of free
Oh, it took a long long road to get here It took a brave brave girl to try I've taken one too many excuses, one too many lies Don't be surprised, oh see you look surprised
Hey, if you were a friend, you want to get know me again If you were worth a while You'd be happy to see me smile I'm not expecting sorry I'm too busy finding myself I got this I found me, I found me, yeah
I don't need your opinion I'm not waiting for your okay I'll never be perfect, but at least now I'm brave Now, my heart is open And I can finally breathe Don't be mad, it's just the brand new kind of free That ain't bad, I found a brand new kind of me Don't be mad, it's just a brand new time for me
I'm still laying low on a lot of fronts, although I've managed to slink on out of my house for a few different engagements during the past couple of weeks. I'm trying to play things close to the chest (which is kind of ironic, considering that all of my damned business is here online). But I'm sensing a shift that I am genuinely happy about. Its been a while that I was purely optimistic, but here I am. It's a nice feeling, I must admit.
My new office is definitely a nice fit. I'd actually been applying for new jobs at the time that I was transferred, and I'd had an interview elsewhere on my second day at my new site. I ended up not getting that job, and I'm really okay with it. I'm rather partial to my new site and I feel that this change was just what The Universe ordered.
My son is healthy, my spirit is at ease, I'm slowly building up my savings, and I'm enjoying my new job responsibilities and clients. Damn, is this really my life? About time!
Last week was one for the history books. I changed offices and was transferred to a new site, meaning new clients and new coworkers that I'd be working closely with, followed by a high school classmate's funeral. I learned that a cousin I'd met only a few years ago died, and thoughts of Pete started circling when Ted and I got into it. Then I had to help with a friend's fundraiser, an event I'd been helping to plan for the last 2 months, followed by my childhood friend's wedding. In the midst of all of that Ted and I ended things. Like ended them, ended them. Like it's over. No more sex for us. I'm actually okay with us being over though. I only wanted things to continue if it would go a way that made me happy. It didn't. So I'm okay with it being over. It was all just a lot to process in just one week. By Saturday morning, I was exhausted.
With a week like that, I already knew that I'd need to recuperate heavily. I didn't want to go anywhere. I just wanted to focus. I wanted to process everything I'd been through.What did it all mean? After 2017 was one proverbial pimp slap after another, 2018 offered much-needed relief and growth. Shit, 2019 has been pretty kick ass too. So I guess I'm maturing a bit, but I felt that considering that the last two years have been pretty spectacular, a week of heavy lifting and shifting was the least I could stand.
Saturday and Sunday, I simply stayed home and cleaned my apartment. And thanks to the wonderful ADHD medication I'm taking, I was able to get it done with no problems. I didn't just clean one or two rooms either, I cleaned the whole damned 2 bedroom apartment, bathroom, and kitchen included, and even cleaned out my car! I know that for most people, such simple tasks are hardly deserving of a hand clap, but after living with a genuine inability to focus for so long, I had made peace with the fact that I'd have to hire people to clean my apartment for me. Being able to do it on my own (and do it well) is kind of a big deal.
So here I am, into Thursday of the following week, and I'm still laying low. I dunno, I guess I'm just tired. I give so much of myself to so many people, that I'm ready to reign it all in. One of the things that kinda sucks about being social is that I get invited to many places, and people get genuinely offended when I can't make it. The name Malika happens to mean queen, and I take that title and role seriously. Sometimes as a royal leader, you have to show up and support, because when you wear the crown, your support means the world to people. I still act up on Facebook on the rare occasion, but while I was posting 4 or 5 times a day before, I'm scaling back. I even had a hard look at my time with new semi-bae, Justin, and decided that it ain't worth it and I'm scaling back on him too. I feel like he just wasn't available to give me what I need and I don't feeling like settling anymore.
I told myself that after last week, I'd take a few weeks to rest and decompress, but I'm considering taking the rest of the year to do so. Sure, I may still hit the occasional party or night club, but I intend to pull myself back in. My plan is to only give my time to the people that really need it (on occasion), my closest loved ones, or men that really give me the kind of attention that I seek. I'm fucking done with place holders and men that only fetishize me because I'm funny and have a ton of sexual energy. If a guy isn't into my mind and my spirit, then I really don't have a damned thing for him.
So there I am, setting and shifting into a new space. Figuring out my goals and future plans, establishing and setting goals, and turning down to enjoy myself. Perhaps it's the changing of the seasons, with this cooler weather, or just getting older (OMG, I'll be 40 in less than a year!), and starting to focus more on my money and sustaining myself and my son long term. Time to go internal, reflect, decompress, and refocus. I'm okay with that.
Last weekend was one for the history books. One of my best friends since middle school is getting married and we celebrated the bachelorette like only we could. Pole dancing classes, out to eat, and other stuff that I'm not allowed to disclose. But it was #Epic
While out, I happened to be seated at a table with 5 other women, all of them married. And then there was me. I've somehow become the Samantha of the group. The one with the wild sex life and stories. The one with the dirty jokes. The one who bats her eyes and enjoys romps in the hay with men whom a lot of women would feel are unattainable. And I enjoy it. A lot, actually.
But I'd be lying if I said that there aren't times that I want more of an attachment. Enter Ted. Again. Ted and I are doing pretty well. I freaking love that man with all of my heart. So many men love me and want me, but they don't know what it takes to make me and keep me happy.
I was thinking earlier today about how when I was a kid (before this pollution and shit), we'd collect fireflies. We'd often keep them in jars. If we didn't poke holes in the jar, they'd be dead by morning. If we did poke a few holes, the fireflies might live a bit longer, but ultimately, they still died. Those fireflies needed to be free. They needed to be admired for what they were, with the faith that they'd return. And they always did. They didn't need or want to be in jars. That is me.
Men love me, they want to control me, they want to harness me, they want me for themselves. But you can't do that to Malika if you want her to be happy. You have to be okay with sharing her with the world and know that at the end of the day, she'll return. And that's one of the reasons I love Ted as much as I do. He doesn't trip about me seeing, crushing on, or wanting other men. He works in my field and gives outstanding career advice. He supports me when I'm being a spaz, and knows how to tell me to reign it in (when I need it). I can call him day or night if I'm in a crunch. If he sees something out of sorts on Facebook, he immediately calls me to check in and make sure I'm okay. When I had my car accident and was stuttering profusely, he assured me that I'd be okay. He knows what a mess I am, and he's still here, my rock.
I saw him recently, and said to him "I love you." He fucking winced. Really?! Dude, we're over 4 years in. You love me. I know you do. And truthfully, I wouldn't change shit about us. I love who, what, and how we are and I told him that. His response was, "well, if this is perfect, why change it?" And honestly, he had a stellar point. The issue is that, yes, this is fucking perfect now. Nothing that I'd change about him or us. My issue again lands in "what about the future?" He recently said that he considers us "friends." Negro, really? *sigh*
He'd said previously that he sees a strong possibility of us spending our latter years together, by latter years, I mean as empty nesters, which we are both a few years away from. And he recently followed up with us being "friends." That's the shit I'm talking about. Where are we really heading? My fear is that I don't want to move forward, thinking we're going into the future together, and then he suddenly look at me like "what are YOU doing?" I don't want a fucking promise ring. I don't even know if I want a wedding ring. But after David and Fred, I don't want to look back at another decade that went by to only wonder what happened. My friend who happens to be getting married next week has been on and off with her (soon to be) husband for the last 20 years. Part of me is telling myself to stop being a fucking spaz and this shit play out how it wants. And maybe I should. Or not?
I don't need much. But I need to know that he sees me by his side. And him by my side. We're supposed to talk soon. All I know is that I don't want him to be with me because of an ultimatum. I want him to be with me because he loves me and sees my value in his life. I'm willing to move forward if needed. But I really don't want to. He feels like the one for me. But I guess, like all things, only time will tell.
In true Malika fashion, I am enamored yet again. I met him around the way, and our attraction was instant, although I tried my damnedest to deny it and so did he. But just like with most men that I end up really being into, he has that wild streak that drives me. I'll call him Justin.
He's so good-looking. Impeccable body, gorgeous lips, smart as hell, driven, funny, always seems to know what to say and do. God, its nearly impossible not to be drawn to him. And despite him having it all together (or at least seeming to), he's oblivious to it. He had no damned clue he was good looking. Like, he knew he wasn't a ogre, but he had no damned clue that he's a real cutie. He told me recently that I spoke something up when he'd recently had two women hitting on him at one time. I responded by letting him know that he probably gets hit on all of the time and is probably oblivious to it.
He mentors children, is well-respected at his job, athletic, educated, and continues to be driven. And although I keep reminding myself not to get too attached (he's bae, but I know that this one ain't meant to be kept), I'm drawn to something. After some deep soul-searching, I realized what it is about him- he reminds me of myself. Although he's poised and by all accounts, a remarkable human being, he has a hard time seeing how fucking amazing he is. Damn, that sounds so familiar.
I've done good things in my life, and overcome a lot. It is so commonplace for me to hear my female friends tell me that they're living vicariously though me, which I'm okay with. Started a pantry, got my degree, traveling, living my life, have a sex life and history, that ain't too shabby, if I do say so myself. I have fucked men that are so beautiful, they could only be described as works of art, my son is freaking amazing, overcome emotionally abusive relationships, love myself incredibly and take care of myself like very few people ever do. But it never feels like enough. I'll be honest, I'm still running too. Looking for something or someone to validate that I've done good. That I'm smart enough, pretty enough, accomplished enough. Because I don't see it.
I guess I'll just enjoy Justin for who and what he is, while he's here. But its amazing to see myself from this side of things.
So I've been pretty honest with my struggles of my appearance, my weight, finally being accepted as "cute" all of that. But I'm not sure if I've really delved into the downside of attractive appearance. Some people would certainly be in their right to say "but you aren't that cute" and it would be hard for me to disagree with them. Whenever my female friends comment about the quality and frequency of men that are attracted to me, I assure them that my outgoing personality and sexual energy play a lot into it. But there is definitely a downside too.
For instance, I work with individuals who have mental illness, teaching life skills. Last week, I found myself in an awkward situation when one of my clients (who has a history of getting inappropriate with Staff) tried me. I kept my cool and alerted my supervisor about it immediately. I'm thankful that my supervisor offered me support in moving forward, but that wasn't exactly a situation that I'd enjoyed. Another client has a tendency to hover around me and I often have to redirect his eyes and his attention. I even had to button my shirt to the top button (it was a traditional button down, but the top two were undone) when I saw him trying to peek down my blouse when standing over me at my desk.
I let everyone know up front, I may suck at maintaining some boundaries, but the last damned thing I need is going to jail for getting inappropriate with clients. I have zero need and desire for it. As a matter of fact, just the other day I told my boss how I purposely avoid many of the clients in the drug and alcohol clinic side of my building, all because I'm aware of my sexual energy and poor boundaries and I don't want anyone to start anything or claim any funny business. Being attractive in my field can cost you your job and your peace of mind if you aren't careful.
I recall how a few years back, I'd lost 30 pounds. Lord, you couldn't tell me nothin! But the fact is that at the time, all I saw was my stomach that refused to shrink, despite the rest of me being obviously smaller. Men liked me more, granted, but none of them were serious with me, I just had more men wanted to fuck me. No wedding proposals, no actual dates, they just all wanted one thing. I thought that losing 30 pounds would change my life. The unfortunate truth is that I had all of the same problems, I was just skinnier. What a blow.
Another thing that sucks about being attractive is how much men will lie, cheat, and steal (even once I gained my weight back) just to get some ass. Its frustrating to think that I have a real thing with a guy, only to quickly realize that the only thing he wants is to bed me for a night. I also hate that people take one look at me and assume they know all about me or assume that I have nothing intelligent to bring to the table. Granted, I certainly have moments of being a ditz, but I'm far from stupid.
I've gotten to the point where I make sure that the people closest to me have good self esteem, because if they don't they'll eventually start to do some underhanded shit just to do me in. And I'll be honest, it hurts like hell when someone you thought was cheering you on was secretly not only hoping you'd fall, but you eventually find out they're the one that pushed you.
This goes for men too. Yes, I'm a flirt. But the fact is that when I'm serious about a man, I put him first. Now that I'm getting older and a bit more settled, I'd like a man who accepts that Malika is a social butterfly. Men always seem to love that about me in the beginning, but then they grow to resent me for knowing a lot of people and attracting male energy.
Don't get me wrong here, I'm not complaining. Being attractive has its perks, I get invited to parties, men like me back, I do great in job interviews, and people are naturally more comfortable with me. But much like a person with a lot of money, it also means that I have to watch my back a lot more than some other people. And I have enough shit to worry about as it is.
Hello world! Hard to believe its been nearly a month since I last blogged. I wish I could say that I've completely gotten Fred out of my system, but I'd be lying. I unfriended him on all of my social media platforms. I had to. It was difficult as hell to look on Facebook and Instagram and see his face. I'd completely forgotten about some years ago, but he'd pulled this shit previously. I couldn't recall when or why, but I'd vaguely remembered a time when he called me and I was hella pissed. I could almost hear the lump in his through when he said "this is Fred."
But then it hit me. A few years back, he'd done the same thing. He disappeared. I couldn't figure it out. Just *poof* and he was gone. No responses, no nothing. I'd called our mutual friends to see if I'd done something, was he okay. No one knew anything, except that he seemed okay when they talked to him. And then as I finally started to move on with my life, he called me out of nowhere. I could tell that he knew he'd fucked up being gone so long. I heard it in his voice. He normally speaks with confidence, but at that moment, he was sheepish. Almost hat-in-hand.
And 3 years later, here we are again. I'd said earlier that our last blow up was nasty. But somehow in my spirit, I know he'll pop back up when he's ready. The only difference is that Malika from 3 years ago hadn't yet gone through the intense grieving/reflection period that Malika Today has. So Malika Today is a lot more focused on the future. Malika Today travels, and works, and studies for her licensure exams, and brunches and shit. I have examined this shit in and out and I know that I can do (and have done) way better than Fred. But here I am, temporarily allowing myself to remain stuck in this mental place. But I'll give myself credit today, because I'm recognizing that this is a temporary mental place that I am in and I will not remain here forever. I've learned that is the key. To take ownership of your feelings, and allow yourself to feel how you feel, but allow yourself to move forward as well. No staying stuck. So here I am, moving through this space.
Coincidentally, while I was visiting Los Angeles, my first day there, before Fred arrived to my hotel, I'd began began watching the show Mad Men on Netflix. I completely get why it was such a successful show. In the middle and toward the end of it there were moments of calm, set in California, depicted in the show, that could never happen in the ever-moving office environment of Sterling Cooper. And once I got home while still watching the show, I got it so much. California was beaches, warmth, relaxation. And if the planets aligned properly, I'd like to be there as well. I don't believe I talked about it on here, but while in Cali and visiting Yosemite National Park, I got really lost late at night and easily could have driven off a cliff, not because I wanted to, but because of those curvy roads and lack of street lights. It was a pretty frightening night for me, but despite it all, I'd like to return to Yosemite next year to go camping. This time I'd actually be prepared for it.
So yes, I'm planning to return to L.A. Fred doesn't know this, and I know its for the best. I have definitely done better. And I will continue to do so.
I tend to think of my life in different seasons. Grad school was its own season. Grieving various friends and family have been their own seasons. Dating certain people. Some place I've lived and jobs I've had, seasons marked by various adventures in my life. And now here is another. Fred: The End.
I went on vacation last month. It was something else. Magical, even. I didn't expect him to call after our blow up, but Fred called me while I was in San Francisco, claiming that he wasn't mad, he was just busy. Bruh, I've known you for a decade, I know when you're avoiding me, but whatever. I was just glad to hear from him, especially since I'd already planned to be in Los Angeles the following day.
I arrived in L.A. and checked into a cozy little hotel in Koreatown. My new thing is that whenever I enter my new hotel is to strip naked. I had to get a parking pass for Fred and I was a bit shocked when I said to him that I had to put on clothes go let him in and his response was "don't worry about it." I should have known, but long-story-short, we enjoyed one another immensely.
Despite my itinerary calling for me to only stay in Los Angeles for a few days, being that I'm the one that made the itinerary to begin with, I essentially spent the rest of my vacation in L.A. with Fred. I couldn't help but to notice how heavily he slept, as if he really needed it. And I was glad to allow him that. He eventually told me that he'd been sleeping on a friend's couch. For the umpteenth time, I encouraged him to return to Atlanta. He responded that he is in Los Angeles to work on his acting goals. I reminded him that Atlanta is literally the best place to be to work on an acting career. He remained unmoved.
So rather than the 3 days I'd planned, I spent 6 days with him instead. My soul felt light and happy. My whole life seemed millions of miles away. It felt like we were one. But then that last day.
I'm not sure what happened. But the last morning, he raised his voice to me. I quickly checked that shit. I'm not going to let anyone yell at me. I was on edge, but I made it. We spent the afternoon running errands, and I decided to get a nice hotel for us to enjoy our final evening together. But we didn't make it. We got into it pretty bad. I damned near put him out of my car. I was shot. I was fucking done. After I dropped him off, I cooled a bit and texted him that despite it all, I didn't want him sleeping on a couch and to bring his ass to the hotel instead. He texted he might. He didn't.
I awoke the next morning and headed on to Yosemite National Park. The following day, I went home. Two days later he shot me a text apologizing for not checking in to make sure I'd made it home okay. I didn't know how to respond. I just sent him back a lot of pics that we'd taken together in L.A. I wanted him to have positive memories of us. Because we were winding down.
I knew it was over, but I couldn't shake it. I couldn't shake him or the idea of us. I knew that I could do better. The more I thought about Ted, the more I knew that he was the best fit for me. For God's sake, he sends me job listings (which I need), in addition to the fact that he truly cares. Ted checks in and if I'm having a bad day, he's the first to know. If things aren't going well for me, he actually wants to know so that he can help. I can't say any of those things for Fred.
It took a few days of straight kicks in the pants, but it finally hit home. Its done. And I'm okay with that. I'm in a good place in life. My son is good. I'm making plans. My health is good. It makes no sense to bog myself down with Fred and his egotistical bullshit. I'm good.
So moving on, I had a bit of a come to Jesus moment. I'm ready. I'm ready to tell my story. I've encountered my share of hits within the last few years, and its culminated into a strange tale of wins and losses, marked by interesting characters and movements. I'm ready to bring it forth. Let the games begin.
So Fred is mad. Big mad. Over a decade of friendship and I've never seen him like this. Apparently he's still salty with me because of our little row a month ago. I mean, I get it. I said some stuff he didn't like. And I said it with an intention to cut him deep. Which I did.
But I've been on the receiving end of some rather sharp barbs from Fred and I was expected to smile and overlook it. I've never been apologized to for quite a few things he's said and done. But the one damned time I go there, he can't take it. I texted him to announce that I'd like for us to get some coffee and talk when I'm in L.A. in a couple of weeks. He read my text. No response. Damn, son.
I can't make him change his mind. I can't make him talk to me. And I'm damned sure not going to beg him, especially since I can't exactly say that we've put in the same amount of effort into our relationship to begin with.
Yesterday, I chopped it up with my homegirl, Jenny. Jenny is a lesbian who has been hanging on to this broad who is a parasite for way too long. Jenny recently found out that the same chick who has consistently had her hand held out is the same chick who has been married and dodging her.
So naturally, Jenny was crushed and angry with herself for not pulling the plug on this shitshow of a relationship a year ago. As I listened to Jenny rattling off about how fucked up this was, I did something I never thought I'd do. I erased Fred's phone number. Then I deleted all of our text messages.
We'd run our course. I love him. I'd be devastated if something happened to him. But Sky is right. We're no longer in the same place. I've evolved. I love the woman I am. I have goals and ambition. I'm looking straight ahead. I've been by Fred's side through his homelessness, his joblessness, his insecurities, alla dat. I've been verbally abused and humiliated by him, but I stuck by him and defended him, when everyone else saw what I didn't. And now he ain't picking up the phone?! Does he know who the fuck I am? Yeah, yo. I'm checking out on this one. I'm just going to pick a cute little motel in Laguna Beach in Cali, and unless the stars align for it to happen, I'm not going to see him. And that's okay.
So while Fred is taking a bow out, things with Ted have taken a surprising uptake. We gel so much more now. I went to see him the other night. I walked into his bedroom and was greeted with the Jill Scott Spotify station playing in the background. Four and a half years and I have NEVER walked into his home to find relaxing music playing. It was nice. It set a cozy mood. I told him that if anyone ever played me in a movie, I'd want it to be Jill Scott or possibly Queen Latifah. Ted stated "she's not sexy enough to play you." Keep it coming Ted, keep it coming.
I sat on the edge of his bed and immediately heard a crack, followed by his bed caving in. Ted then disassembled the rest of the bed and left only his mattress and box spring. It was such a small moment, but a cute, shared one. Afterwards Al Green's "Tired of Being Alone" came on the television. It was a perfect moment. Then we just kind of lay there on his bed, him reaching over and laying on my back. These moments are literally all I've wanted. This level of intimacy and affection.
I just remembered that Ted would not be okay with me sharing so much of him on my blog, so moving forward, I'll have to scale back how much I write about him. But before I end that I'll share that I recently downloaded some songs from Brandy's first album. One of my favorite songs from her has always been "Love is On My Side." And I've had that song on repeat in the whip lately, a small smile and glassy look in my eye. And by God, it may just be there after all.
Atlanta is small. Damned small. Jim was a classmate of mine at Clark who also happened to know Ted. Early on, it wasn't uncommon for Ted and I to fall out every 7 or 8 months. Every time it happened, I swore to myself that it was for good, but we always found our ways back to one another.
During one of our lulls, I was studying on a Friday night with Jim and another classmate. I'd confessed to Jim that I'd missed Ted, but after our last parting, I knew it was a wrap. Jim assured me that there was still a possibility and that Ted missed me too. I wasn't so confident. Jim admitted that he hadn't seen Ted around on campus and inquired aloud if he still worked at the school. My heart sank. On the outs or not, I certainly didn't want to hear that he wasn't doing well.
Jim encouraged me to contact Ted to see if he was okay. I wasn't as confident at Jim that it would be a good idea, but I just needed to know that if he was okay. I'd deleted his number after our last row, but I'd managed to find it deep in my old text messages. I sent a text essentially saying "hey are you still working at the school?" Ted responded saying that he was and asked what I'd heard. I just assured him that my friend hadn't seen him around and I want to make sure that he was good. And that was it.
I anticipated that he'd then end our text exchange and and go back to being salty about whatever it was we were pissed about. I went back to plugging away at my laptop, when suddenly he texted me back "so how have you been?" I lit up like a Christmas tree.
That exchange kind of sums up me and Ted's relationship. I'll own that our early problems stemmed in part from my neediness. We were kind of like dating, but not really. We were friends with benefits, I guess. But we were friends, nothing more. We didn't spend holidays together, he met my son and I met his son, but more as friends, not as "this is mom's new boyfriend." We also agreed to be open and date other people. But I wanted more. I wanted to travel, to go out, to date, to get out of the damned house! Ted? Not so much. Ted was happy just laying in bed, watching movies all weekend. It was good, but it didn't give me what I needed, so I continued to date other men, looking for something more substantial. And whenever me and whoever fell apart, I'd turn right back to Ted. But that was all before.
Ad nauseam, things changed tremendously for me when Pete died. Ted and I were actually on the outs during of my friendship with Pete and I'd talked earlier about how he hit me up roughly 6 months after Pete's death and I explained to him the major shift I'd just experienced.
I think Ted thought early on that I'd be willing to hop right back into where we were, but he soon saw just how raw I was and he respected it and gave me the time I needed. He and I got damned close to having sex twice but I just couldn't do it. But as time when on, I was ready and I wanted it be him. I had to have a drink to calm my nerves, but we did it. Ted was the first person I slept with after Pete's death. I remembered crying during the act. I wiped my eyes and tried to say that I cried because it was so good and I was in the moment. It was a lie. Don't get me wrong the sex was stellar, but that's not why I cried. And I think he new I was lying and let me have it anyway.
Pete's death changed how I viewed things. It forced me to look head on at things I'd previously ignored or taken for granted. It also caused me to look more at what I wanted out of life and relationships. For so long I'd flitted from casual relationship to casual relationship, but I started to want and demand more, but I'd also learned how to accept and meet people where they are. Those who were potentials, I kept around and allow things to flourish, those that aren't worthy, I quickly leave alone.
Ted and I haven't fallen out in the last two years because I've learned to accept him and meet him where he is, rather than expecting what he can't give. We talk a bit less now, but it doesn't bother me as much now and we're closer because of it. In our spending time together, we'd occasionally briefly dance around the idea of marriage (he once quickly said that he if he got married again, he'd have a Batman-themed wedding before quickly correcting himself). I was a bit surprised because he'd always been so against the idea of getting married again, but I shook it off and figured that if he ever got married, it wouldn't be me anyway, so *shrugs*
Despite us growing closer, I continued to look elsewhere for something substantial. I love my relationship with Ted, and cuddling in bed with him has slowly become far more intimate, but many of our early problems stemmed from my wanting more from him and I'd learned not to try to force it. I needed to find it elsewhere. As close as we were, I'd simply accepted that he was no longer "the one" for me.
A good friend of mine recently celebrated the high school graduation of her daughter. I showed up at the family gathering and felt so alone. I looked at the beautiful home that her mother shared with her boyfriend and I wanted that for myself one day. A nice-sized home, plenty of room for people to buzz around, lots of land, space for a garden. My married and engaged friends were so happy and it felt like another smack in the face that once again, I don't have a partner for these moments. I'd wished to myself that Ted would do these kinds of family gatherings, but that just isn't in him for us. Yes we cuddle and spoon after intimate moments, but he just wasn't that guy. Later on, I told Ted about the barbecue and how I wished he'd enjoyed things like that, but I knew it wasn't his cup of tea. Ted surprised me by saying that he'd have been willing to attend with me. Say what now? He explained that he doesn't like big crowds, but he'd be okay attending a small family outing with loved ones. Wow.
I've been considering getting a cabin in the woods and I have come across an advertisement for these cute little cabin pods in the woods. I took a real gamble and sent a picture of the pods to Ted and asked if he'd be willing to join me. To my utter shock, he said yes. My jaw hit the floor. This was the same dude that I had to practically beg to go out to eat nearly 3 years ago, and now he's open to spending a weekend in a cabin. Its almost like the less I expect, the more he gives.
As things have shifted, I've started to look for more. A partner. A life partner. Someone to grow old with. Someone to make decisions with. Someone to cuddle with. Someone to come home to. And God knows I've tried. I laid out a psychological profile of my ideal candidate. This person is chill when I'm a spaz, financially sound, professional, loves me, gets me. Ted happens to work in my field, and he's been a wealth of information and support while I got my degree and now that I'm working in the field. He's typically the first person I vent to about work and he understands my job in addition to the population of clients I work with. He's also one of the few people I talk really openly about my relationship with my mother. Its like a sore, festering wound. And Ted has been there for it all. At the end of the day, it all goes back to Ted and so do I. After 4 and a half years, it all goes back to him. No matter who I date and tell myself that this one will be different, I always end up back in Ted's bed, and more importantly, his arms. Before I started to move too far in my head, I had to know that I was a real potential for him. That he saw me as a woman he'd want going into the next stage of life, not just a bed warmer. I didn't need to hear that he will marry me, but I needed to know that it wasn't out of the realm of possibility.
I called him this morning and framed the question, basically asking if we were both empty nesters, would I be in the running for wife/life partner? And to my utter amazement, he easily said yes. Damn. Word? I explained to him that despite our long history, we've never really seriously talked about a long-term potential of us. I'd never even really said "us" in reference to us. We were always more so of a "he and I with our separate lives" never an "us." But here "we" are. Ted is the same guy who I had to beg for so much, and suddenly, he's genuinely open to sharing his life with me. I just wanted to know what that my look like. I know that if he read this, he'd freak slightly and tell me to stop overthinking things, but this made me frame things differently.
And while I will continue to date other men in the meantime, Ted has grown on me. And to me. And I guess I've grown on him. Who knew?
So I've been meaning to check out this show called "BoJack Horseman" for a while now. Its on Netflix, and despite the reviews, which seemed mixed at best, I figured I'd give it a whirl. What I soon discovered about this show is how amazing it is. It is one of the funniest and sharpest shows I've seen to date.
The show is about Bojack, an actual horse (the show is animated, follow me here) who lives in an anthropomorphic world with other animals and humans. BoJack was on a show during the 1990's called Horsin' Around. Since then, BoJack has become a bit of a dark cloud. He has a lot of self-destructive behaviors and he struggles to build healthy relationships. Much of his negativity stems from a toxic relationship with his emotionally abusive mother (see how deep this runs for me?) I see a lot of myself and other people around me in him. He lives in Hollywoo (I know what I did there), where he's often surrounded by a lot of drugs and glamour.
I'm now at a point in my binge where he recently lost a good friend of his. In his grief, he just fled. He apologized as much as he could and took off in his car. Looking at this animated show, as this man drove aimlessly through the dessert was so familiar. Because I did it. It looked the same, felt the same, and I did it for the same reason. I fled.
I couldn't discuss it while in litigation, so I largely didn't mention it in this blog, but I spent last summer by myself for 12 days on the west coast. I flew into San Francisco and made my way over to Los Angeles, followed by Phoenix, and then on to Vegas, where I flew home from. I needed that trip like I needed the air that I breathe. I drove between all of those cities. Just me and my thoughts. Looking back now, I guess I can see how far-fetched it seemed. But at the time, it just felt right. I knew that I needed to get away. I can't say that I was running. I wasn't. But I couldn't stomach to stand still either. Add my grief to a job that was beginning to stress me to the point of no return, my trip out west saved me from myself.
I don't know what called me out there. There were actually a few things I'd had lined up, in addition to a few friends I wanted to see, but that wasn't it. I'd needed time away, to figure out my thoughts. To decide what I needed in life. To sort out my grief. Quite a few people questioned why I'd opted to go away by myself for so long, but I honestly couldn't explain it. I just knew that I needed to go. To fly. To be alone. I'd had a few destinations on the map, but by and large, outside of driving and seeing Fred, I had no real plans, except for my newly minted plan to strip down to nothingness the moment I entered my hotel room. The only room I'd booked was for the start of my trip, but other than that, I left it all up in the air.
I have a co-worker in a higher position, who is a free-spirit, much like myself. I talked to him yesterday and shared that for my upcoming trip in less than two weeks (WOOHOO!!), the only hotel I'd booked is for my first night. I said to him that there's something thrilling about waking up in one city and not knowing if you'll fall asleep in the same city. Will I sleep in Los Angeles tonight, or will I sleep in San Francisco? It was thrilling. My co-worker looked at me like I was on a heroin trip.
So, I guess I neglected to mention that I intend to go on another trip. Yes God, in two weeks. Its been a struggle, I've prayed to the financial gods for this to come together, and it has. Finally. I'm no longer driving to grieve. I'm driving to breathe. To move. To be free. To explore. I'll visit beaches by myself, I'll climb mountains by myself, to cry by myself, to laugh by myself. Y'all have been doing vacations wrong.
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