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.

Birthday Season

 So much has happened in the last month since I've written. I did it. My baby is no longer a baby, he's officially a high school graduate. I did it. I really freaking did it!! I realized a few years back that the child's graduation is just as much for the parent as it is for the child, although the child won't really realize that. I remember crying while dropping him off at pre-k3, and how he's a 6'6 handsome young lad, who just graduated with a 3.6 GPA. He's intelligent, kind, thoughtful, and hysterical. Damn, I did that! Yeah, his dad helped a little, but I sacrificed so much to get him here. This win is mine and mine alone.

I've also never forgotten about my plan to move to Cali. I now have a job that pays twice what my other job paid (yeah, I'm doing okay for myself lol) and I have a house. I also work from home, so I can easily transfer, and even make more, due to the cost of living. I plan to move back, once my son graduates from college (possibly earlier). It wasn't time for me to be there when I went, and I came back, started from nothing, and I'm doing even better than I would have been had I never left. Things are really lining up for me, thank God.

On top of that, the first anniversary of Dres' death just passed. I was speaking to his fiancé about some things leading up and I asked what she'd had planned. She told me that since she'd planned the events immediately after he died, she intended to sit this one out, but welcomed anyone who wanted to pick up the baton. I knew we couldn't let the day go without a large public acknowledgement. I got to work, asking Dres' close friends how we are going to make this happen. I was prepared to pull something together from scratch, when one of his friends reminded me that Tuesday the (anniversary) already has a pretty popular day at a venue called Smith's Old Bar. His friends got to work contacting the host that night, who was also a good friend of Dres'. Within a week and a half, he managed to pull together an event night that would make my heavenly big bro proud. Dres' fiancé even flew in for it. I tend to sit in the background for stuff like that, but it felt good to know that lil old me got us all together to honor him.

I knew the day would get pretty emotional for me, I didn't expect that I'd start the day crying and essentially spend the rest of the day doing the same thing. Coincidentally, on that day, I'd posted an old pic of me and Dres from around 2002. In the pic, in the corner is a woman named Ayanna, and she happened to be the woman who first introduced me to him. That very afternoon, I stopped into a coffeehouse in East Atlanta and I ran into an absolute gem of a woman named Mo. Mo happens to be dating my homeboy Dirte, and Dirte has also struggled with Dres' loss. Mo hugged on me and helped to cheer me up, when I just wanted to implode. I walked out of the coffeeshop and ran into Ayanna, a woman I hadn't see in over 10 years!

The fact that I happened to see her that very day was undeniably not a coincidence. We talked about Dres' loss and I collapsed into tears in her arms. She was on her way to work and we decided to stop and eat for a while to catch up. We both owned not being our best versions of ourselves previously, and talked about how much we'd grown since our early 20s. We talked about the absolute losers we ended up having kids with and I even let her listen to an actual diss track that was written about the two of them. Ah, good times lol. We cackled. I missed her. We promised to stay in touch and I have no doubt that we will.

The month is now June, a time that is known to be my travel season. I tend to spend my birthday in Cali, but because my little human being is going away to college and I am trying to pay down some bills, I'm staying around to celebrate. But I miss it. I miss the beaches and the mountains. I miss the mild weather. And I hate to own it, but I miss him. I've processed and told myself that I don't, but I do. I miss Fred. I miss his bed. I miss his smile. I miss his jokes. I miss his body. I miss that man. I've owned that I outgrew him. The last 10 years or so have consisted of me making decisions and moves that ultimately raised me to a level of a woman I barely recognize. Like damn, I'm a full adult around here. And I can't say he grew in he same way, but that never stopped me from loving him. I made  full list of the reasons that I should get the hell away from Fred, and it's an understatement to say that those are some pretty valid reasons. But the love persists.

Being a year and half out from my last sexual encounter, and having told Fred that we'll never be friends again, I considered having a dinner with him, telling him that we definitely are not friends, only acquaintances, but hey, I can stand a roll in the sheets. But then I thought about it- I don't wanna sit anywhere near that man. I don't want to talk to him. I don't want to be forced to sit through a dinner and act like I don't harbor some resentment against him. I don't want to hear his voice. A friend and I are supposed to go to Los Angeles later this year for the opening of a museum, and I considered dropping by his apartment, fucking his brains out, and then leaving the moment he falls asleep.

I know this all stems from the fact that this time of year is normally when I see him. I don't even have his number in my phone, which is definitely for the best. I wonder frequently if he's thinking about me too? It really is strange for me to love and miss him so much, while harboring so much resentment. Funny enough, in my professional role, I often remind people that it is completely possible to hold conflicting emotions about the same situation or person. Yet here I am, struggling with that fact. Two decades later. And here we are, I guess?

Speaking of travel, I realized that I haven't done a good cross-country drive in a few years, and I'm getting that itch. I decided that since I am no longer bound by that wretched school calendar, I can now travel whenever the hell I want, not just summer seasons. So in the fall of 2027, I plan to drive cross country all over again. 

This coming birthday, on Saturday, I plan to spend the early part of the day doing a float in a floatation chamber in North Georgia. Gonna make it a solo day trip at a spa, followed by a night of listening to some favorite DJs. Leave it to me to plan to do something weird on my birthday, right?

Divine Timing

I'm still processing from yesterday. I'm unpacking how a man who seemed so perfect from afar, pretty much imploded the second I put forth a boundary about what I needed. I can't put out any information about why I know what I know about him. I gotta protect my co-conspirator. But what really hits me is how much this all fell apart perfectly. A few weeks back, something in my spirit kept telling me that I needed to ask him about some things. I figured that asking at the moment was futile, because we'd never met personally, and I was possibly putting the cart before the horse. But that nagging feeling knew that I needed answers. And once he had his lil tantrum, all of his dirt came out in the wash.

Which brings me to today. I'm so grateful to be able to wake up whenever I want. No rushing to take my son to school or his intern site. I'm free! Anyway, I stirred this morning, when I heard the garbage truck rolling down my street. At that exact same time, Pumpkin heard the truck too, and he hurried to take our full bin to the street in time for collection. I was glad and a bit marveled at how perfectly that timed up. 

Moments later, I looked my window, and saw my neighbor outside, taking down the last remnants of my chain link fence in front of my house. I've hated that stupid fence since I got here. It's rusted and keeps me from neatly cutting my grass by it. I'd resigned myself to its presence, a sign of the times when my neighborhood was not nearly as safe, not the gentrifying neighborhood that it currently is (my neighbors are white on either side and across the street). I'd figured that I'd have to eventually hire someone to remove it, I'd just lacked the time and desire to get it done, until I'd looked online and learned that I could grab some pliers and start slowly untying it, and pull it down myself. I'd gotten roughly 75% of the fence down and rolled up. My neighbor saw the mess I'd started and agreed to help me cut down the last of the fence.

Then I would be stuck with getting rid of the metal parts of the fence. I was told that I could an ad up, informing scrappers that I had metal they could take, but I didn't want random people all showing up at my house and I didn't want to put my address online. I would also need someone who could cut or pull those last stakes from the fence out of the ground. I figured I'd cross that bridge when I got to it.

I got up when I saw my neighbor cutting out the last of that eyesore. Finally! I can cut my grass and no longer be interrupted by that stupid fence. I threw on sweats and walked outside, where I saw that my neighbor had cut down and rolled up the last of it. And almost magically, just as he'd finished, a junkman literally pulled up and helped to load it up. I thanked him immensely, amazed at how he'd seemed to pull up with almost immaculate timing. I told him that I also had some 30 foot poles from the fence in the back, that he'd need to cut down if he wanted them. He took them as well. I then told him that he could also have the 6 poles that were in the ground. He went and produced a saw that he was able to use to pull out all of the metal poles.

I was grateful for the man who took that eyesore off of my hands. But I couldn't help but notice his timing. What are the odds that a man looking for scrap metal would literally drive past my home just the second that my fence was ready to be rolled up, and we were outside to give instructions? And he also had the tools to take down the last of the posts. 

I felt there was a lesson in this, and the lesson extends from yesterday. As I woke up with further thoughts about what the hell happened in that moment, my angels again reminded me of how they're right on time. Because again with zero intervention on my part, the exact right person showed up exactly when I needed them.

I gotta remember to sit back and be grateful.

The Angels Be Knowing- Learning to Let Them Lead

I've learned to be quiet about my celibacy. My girlfriends all know, but I'm pretty tightlipped about it to most men. I've noticed that with most men, if I mention that I've been a year and a half without sex, they immediately offer up their services. Ew. Or worse, they'll pretend to be Prince Charming, just long enough to smash. The last thing I want is a man using my spiritual journey as a moment to prey on me. So I play it close to the chest.

I've come close a few times. FAMM came by my home a few weeks back, and I cannot lie, he was looking good and smelling good. We made out. Honestly? I went from "absolutely not!" To a strong "let's just see what happens." And I'm grateful that he pulled a him and disappeared. Something greater than me is definitely keeping this celibacy streak going. I damned sure almost folded a few times.

But around February, I'd inboxed a guy on Facebook, after he posted pictures of himself in Antarctica. I originally contacted him because only days prior, I'd been looking online for available jobs on the forbidden continent, only to learn that social workers were not on the list. So seeing him mention it seemed perfect. I assured him early on that I didn't want anything flirtatious, I was just curious about the environment. He told me that he was glad to answer questions for me.

I liked him. I didn't even look at his pictures for the first few weeks. That's how disinterested I was in sex, that I seriously didn't even wonder what he looked like. But the more time went on, the more we seemed to vibe. I did eventually look at his pictures, only to realize that he was kind of hot. He actually favored FAMM. Dark skin, tall, nice body, full beard. Yummy. I looked forward to our chats and we would eventually spend our entire days messaging one another. He was a welcome distraction from work. I'd eventually ask to speak on the phone and he continued to to play me to the left, but messaging was always an option. We did eventually talk, but not much.

As time progressed, our messages got flirtier.  I was enamored with his intelligence, him being an astrophysicist and geologist. He knew so much about various planets and the makeup of the universe. He could always answer questions about rocks and crystals, which I found fascinating. He'd done work with NASA. I started to tangle with the idea of a rendezvous. One of my favorite cities, Biloxi, was halfway between the two of us. I envisioned that we could get a hotel there, and make it official. But things were hitting wrong.

He never really identified a time he wanted to meet up. I work full time, with a child graduating high school, but I was still willing to meet in Biloxi. He's retired, and I know enough about his finances to know that financially, he could easily swing it. But the excuses persisted. I started to wonder if he intended to remain a pen pal, only hoping to string me along.

This afternoon, something told me to stand firm. I suggested to him that we suggest a date to meet up. To my surprised, he hit me with "don't start" and other dismissive statements. He accused me of "disrupting his peace." I didn't need to be told twice. I blocked his ass expeditiously.

I regretted it almost immediately. Did I do the right thing? Did I overreact? Did he overreact? It didn't make sense. It's been peaceful and light for the last 3 months, to the point that I got quite a few impressive pics from him, if you get what I'm saying. If I knew nothing else, I knew and still believe in my heart that he enjoyed having me around. I started to envision our fun beach weekend. And when I finally pressed for actual communication and a date to meet up, he flipped. I'm glad I knew not to send dirty pictures back. I'd considered flying to Houston, where he lives, but the only thing stopping me, was that I refused to make the first move. I needed him to either come to me, or meet me halfway. That line in the sand turned out to be a blessing.

I tried to make it make sense it, but it didn't. I didn't want to wrap my mind around the nerdy guy being a fuccboi, accusing me of disrupting his peace, all because I wanted to hold some firm boundaries and make sure that he had actual intentions. I sent copies of the text interactions to all of my close friends, those I'd giddily told about him over the last 3 months. The good is that they were just as confused as I was. They all thought he'd lost his cool over nothing but they also felt that I'd clearly dodged a bullet, although I'd struggled to see it.

But then- I remembered. I know someone who knows someone. The world is a small place. Let's just say that it seems that he'd been a heck of a lot more active than he'd let on. While I was trying to nail down some time to get things cracking, it seems that he's already been bending backs.

My, oh my. I knew it was them. I felt them. Yet again, my angels saw me about to walk head-first into some mess and they pulled my ass out by the skin of my teeth. They knew. They knew he was in the streets and they knew that he wasn't physically or emotionally safe for me. Something in my spirit told me to press the issue earlier today, an inkling I'd never gotten before. Something in me would not rest, until I pressed for more, and the second I did, he folded. The real him came out. And my first instinct was to block, even though I didn't want to. And the more details unfolded, the more it turned out that the block button was the right move afterall.

At the end of last year, I was again faced with learning that my angels took away a man I'd previously loved. I had no access to that man, because of divine intervention, and by the time we had proximity, he was no longer a danger to me. That was no coincidence. 

So here I am. Processing. Old Malika would have fought and begged for more. I would have tried to overexplain and ask questions, and settled for some semblance of a crumb of hope, to keep this danger in my life. But this Malika? Her nervous system has reset and she's learning to fall back and trust the spirits. Clearly, they know what they are doing.

Fred: You Can't Go Home Again

There's just something about this time of year. The sun, the warmth, the freedom. This time of year is typically when I start planning for a trip out to L.A. And with that, Fred will be there at LAX, waiting for me. Not this time around though. I ended things with him. I had to. As much as I love him, the more work I did to sort through my own shit, no longer could the good override the bad. The overwhelming problem is that when he's good, he's great. And when he's bad, he's an asshole. And I'm too grown and accomplished to be accepting crap for anyone, especially him!

He once admitted to me that his less than kind moments towards me are more based on his own insecurities and his own challenges with his religious upbringing. And I get it. I've always been able to give him grace. I know he loves me. But at some point, baby you gotta do that work to unpack your own shit and not take it out on me. All I've done is love you, in spite of it all. I shouldn't be the one being punished here.

I saw him last June. I'd rented a hotel so that we could be in separate beds, with no temptation for anything inappropriate. Although we avoided sex (I'm sure I could have done it if I'd wanted to), we did manage to do some cuddling. I told him that he felt like home. And I meant it. Two decades getting to know one another created a bond I have yet to match. Some things have come close, but nothing like what he and I have had. As much as I've been thinking about him lately, in my spirit, I absolutely know he's thinking about me too. And that's what hurts. That I know that I could always fall right back into who and what we were. We'd always return home to one another. I've theorized that our demons recognized one another. He'd absolutely shut down that statement, saying that he has no demons. However, I know that's horseshit.

I think that's part of what always kept me able to deal with him, because even in his weird moments, I still get him. In spite of having a well-documented fear of commitment, I loved that I could always return to him. He was home. I've struggled with men who wanted to be my everything, and wanted me up under them constantly. I loved that with him, no matter where I went, and no matter where he went, we'd always find our ways back to one another. I'm not delusional enough to believe that there's not some degree dysfunction in that. I know it was dysfunctional, but it was still comfortable. It was familiar. It was home.

So yes, this weather always makes me think about him and L.A. Word on the playground is that he may make an appearance in Atlanta for the Jazz Fest next month. I wasn't particularly planning to go myself, until I learned that Donnie would be performing. So I guess I'll see...

At some point a few years back, Fred and I had talked about embracing a serious relationship, once my son is out of the house. Maybe that's why I'm so nostalgic lately? Pumpkin graduates in 34 days and I'm definitely in the streets more. Perhaps I'd subconsciously started thinking about the what ifs? Every now and again, I envision that I'll run into him again. I'm not going to call him. I refuse to walk back into those old patterns. We'll never be who and what we once were, and we'll never be in a serious relationship. That's not who he is and that's not who we are.

And I gotta be okay with that.

Peopling While Popular

Spring is here and it is springing!! Last week, I got back from NYC with Pumpkin. Going in, I was sure that I was signing up for the trip from hell, but I ended up seeing my first Broadway play, for just $45 and I found myself sitting front row at the play "Joe Turner's Come and Gone" which starred Taraji P. Henson and Cedric the Entertainer. I'd always told myself that I wanted to see a Broadway show one day. I even met one of the stars, Joshua Boone, after the show. That's certainly a hell of a way to scratch an item off of your bucket list.

While in NYC, I spent time with a homegirl who knew all of the cool spots and I'm grateful that my connection to her led me to my Broadway hookup and standing in line to get my ticket, I happened to meet another woman with heavy ties to Atlanta, and she and I shared several mutual acquaintances. The new friend and I then agreed that we would attend the Atlanta Jazz Festival together, to see one of my favorite singers. I've said it before and I'll say it again, my life is amazing. But it wasn't always so.

While I was grieving what I did not understand was an emotionally abusive relationship, the mentally unstable chick he ended up with (I thank God every day that I avoided that mess) made a comment about how POPULAR she was. And I took that, and it fueled me. She may have gotten the man. Yep, she got him. But I know that if I had nothing else, I had the people. I decided that I'd show her what popularity really looked like. She won the battle, but I damned sure won the war.

I made a conscious effort to show her how amazing my life really was. I'd take pics of my social life and demonstrate who was really popular. I remember one particular picture that was taken, and seconds after, I'd burst into tears and ran into the bathroom. I was intentional about posting pictures of me all over the city, living it all up, because I wanted her to see what popular really looked like. What was wild that while it was initially all a display to show her that she's not nearly as hype as she thought she was, I started to really love it. I started to meet so many people and actually enjoy myself. The people I met were so fascinating that I just wanted more. It went from being a big show for her, to becoming a life that I'd started to really lean into and love. I'm pretty sure that the crazy bitch has moved on to stalking other people now (hopefully, but nothing surprises me), but I know there's another male from my past who now follows me. So even though I'm no longer trying to show off my amazing life, I'm pretty sure he's following me and reading my words and looking at my pics, essentially sitting outside of the club, looking in.

During that previous period of turn ups, I got pregnant. Obviously, I had to scale back my partying ways. But as my baby got older and the shackles of parenthood started to loosen, I slowly started to get back out there. Now, as I count down, I'm definitely back in the streets. Believe it or not, it's not about shallow partying or drinking. It's about my genuine love of people. I truly love seeing people have a good time. This weekend, I went to another event, and I brought a couple of women from Kansas and Alabama and I loved showing them my favorite hangouts and introducing them to my people. They were amazed at the Black excellence, and the music and the fashion. 

And it often isn't until I'm with people who are homebodies and/or from other places that I'm reminded of how exciting and fun my life really is. And what an absolute blessing it is to not just be around exciting people, but to personally know and love on these folks. And being loved by them is its own blessing. On Saturday night, I looked over at a handsome guy standing next to me and said "you're kinda cute!" and he told me that we follow one another online. Come to find out that I'd actually been looking at his Instagram page just 2 days before, due to us sharing mutual friends.

As I sit in my favorite coffeehouse, unpacking it all, gratitude seems like such an understatement. Things I'd previously prayed for are so far away, as I lean into being grateful to what I was given instead. It's true, if you want to make God laugh, show her your plans.

Empty Nesting: You Can't Go Home Again

The Boy is out of town for a robotics competition. I love my lil Pumpkin, but lordy, there is something about having an empty house! I often marvel at the fact that kids his age don't go anywhere. When I was 18, if you gave me $20, I was immediately in the streets. Kids these days? Give them $20 and they buy a computer game and continue gaming from the comfort of their bedroom. I now fully understand that my mother was beyond glad when me and my sisters were in the streets, doing God-knows-what. As she saw it as long as we weren't dead or pregnant, she was good. And yeah, same. There's just something about an empty house, after having kids around for so long. 

I got off work in the evening and immediately tried to figure out where to go. I decided to pop out for some nachos and margaritas. My homegirl was supposed to join me, but she was late, so I told her that we'd link another time. As I sat there eating, I decided that I wanted more action. I wanted someone to hang with. Let's drive aimlessly around the city! Let's go back to my house and watch movies! Let's do something! In that moment, my ex happened to call me. I immediately suggested to him that he meet me out. He hit me with a plain "I'm in my pajamas," which I know is middle-aged speak for "I'm not going any-damned-where."

I sat there and stewed. I wanted action. I wanted to call Fred. I wanted to unblock FAMM and call him. I wanted to call up another guy I'd previously had to move on from. I wanted it ALL back! I wanted all of that toxic shit that I had to work out of my system! I wanted to drool over some fine ass man, I wanted to be all over the city in bars and clubs, where everybody knows my name! 

I called my network of homegirls to talk some sense into me, because I knew that I'd lost my damned mind. But at 10:30? Most of them were tucked away, already asleep. I knew, because I'd reached out. I guess the blessing is that I knew that I was losing my shit. I called my guy bestie, "Mr. Atlanta" and encouraged him to meet me. He said that he'd be at a spot at 12 for karaoke. It was 10:30 at that point, and the margarita was starting to speak to me and I knew I wasn't going to make it twiddling my thumbs for another hour and a half, waiting for some action to kick off. I decided to head home.

I got home and unblocked FAMM and texted him "Up?' and then I took to my couch.  I knew this behavior wasn't healthy. I stewed in it. Then it hit me. I'd wanted so bad to be an empty nester, so I could get back the life I had. The parties, the hanging out, the friends at all hours. God, how I'd missed that action. I couldn't even get a friend to roll through on a random Thursday at 10pm! And again, it hit me- in your 40s, most of your friends are supposed to have their own cribs and responsibilities, and jobs and whatnot. If I was in my 40s and all of my people can just roll through on a random Thursday, that doesn't say very good things about the company I keep.

I really wished my therapist was available. I wanted so badly to process all of this. How I'd worked so hard to undo my demons, and the first moment that I'm alone, I wanted to undo all of my progress, just to feel alive again. I sat in my home, with just me and my cats. I always thought this would be the move, but dammit man. In this moment, I'd finally gotten what I asked for, and I had nothing to show for it.

This morning, I woke up, glad to not have to jump up to take Pumpkin to school. I lay in my bed and thought about the dream I had. I dreamt that I ran into my former fling, a younger man, who attended Clark Atlanta University with me, who was in his early 20's, while I was in my mid 30s. In the dream, he'd taken off his underwear and I found them later, and noticed they were much too small, almost small enough to be for a child. When I woke and pondered on the dream. In the dream, he was child. In that dream, I was chasing my own young adulthood.

I got up and started cleaning, putting things away, opening windows and doors, airing out my home, listening to birds chirp, while I played Michael Jackson records in the background. I went chasing my 20s, only to find that the party ended. Or at least, the party has changed, and now it's up to me to redefine what this part of my life is supposed to mean. It slapped me in the face that being an empty nester does not mean that I will magically be 25. I also knew that I don't wanna be one of those middle-aged women hanging out at clubs with people half my age, embarrassing myself, trying to look younger than I really am. Seriously, put a bullet in my head if I ever try to become that woman.

The saying is true, you can't go home again. And I gotta learn to be okay with that.

Springtime Action

Last week, Stepmommy called me and asked if the loveseat that has been plaguing my living room was still up for grabs. I'd offered it to my baby sister, who is at UGA some months ago. Her roommate, who'd owned all of their household furniture, had moved out, leaving baby sis and her roomies nothing to sit on. She'd taken my white leather couch previously. I was glad to get rid of that couch. It was leftover from the previous owners of my house, and anyone who knows me knows damned well that a white leather couch is not remotely something I'd want or need. Coincidentally, just earlier that day, I was thinking of having the loveseat taken to the dump, so I'm glad that it went to a good home, before I made that call. No one wants a seat covered in pollen, that's been waiting out in the elements, ya dig?

Having emptied of the extra furniture, my house now feels like mine. For the first time since I've moved in, the house doesn't feel too crowded or cluttered. I feel like an ungrateful asshole, but I'd kinda struggled with the size of the house, initially. 1100 square feet is nothing to sneeze at, but the homes I was raised in where both at least 2x bigger than that. But the fact is that they were bigger houses, because there was more people to house. A 3 bed, 1.5 bath square foot house is plenty big enough for just lil' old me and my lil 6'6 nugget, especially since he'll be going away to college soon. And moving that additional behemoth just really opened up the room. Plus, I'd read earlier that many people struggle with feeling that their house was a mistake early on, but after a year or so, they grow to love it. And yeah, that's definitely my case.

While working from home, I told myself that I'd work from the office, but I lied, the living room has become my work space. With the giant window, tv, screen door, which allows for fresh air moving into the springtime, my house actually feels like home how.

What's even more exciting is that Pumpkin is getting ready to graduate. Like, oh my God, I made it! Freedom is on the horizon! Since moving in, I've heard from several people that I should have a shindig or two, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it. The place felt too cluttered and unsettled. But now that the living room is opened up and things are now put away or thrown away, I finally see the vision. I texted my bestie last night and told her that we're totally having a kickback when she visits again.

And it's not just the couch or the living room, I can finally breathe again. Coincidentally, the apartment that I lived in when I conceived my son is a lot like my current house. I didn't think much about it at the time, but I'm really grateful that I got to my house before some flipper got to it and made everything "millennial grey." I have the original floors and all of those lil quirks that make houses home, ya know?

Last night, I stopped at Kroger to grab food for the Kid. It was about 10 when we stepped in. It was reminiscent of those nights in my 20s, when we'd aimlessly go get food at odd hours, to come back to my house and kick it all night. I'm looking forward to picking up on those nights.

But I picked up on something I hadn't expected to touch on. I think I miss male energy. Not sex and dating, but there's something a tad intimate about driving around late at night, laughing and going to grab food. Those memories, ya dig? I think I'd like to approach dating again, but I don't want to go into the mess that comes with it. I'm not sure how I'll navigate that. I've got some homeboys I've been meaning to catch up with, and perhaps that'll scratch that itch? Not sexually, of course. I mean, obviously there are men circling who are waiting to get that call that I want action, but none of them meet what I require to be allowed access. I'm about 15 months out of sex and I couldn't miss it any less.

Still spring, brings a certain "something." The energy, the color, the lights, the endless possibilities. And I'm here for all of it.