My FOC Part II

So I was on the phone the other day with my bestie, Portia, when I told her about the conversation about me and Pookie and him wanting us to get married if I got pregnant. I said to her that I knew it might shock her, but I had a fear of commitment. That's when Portia, in her infinite wisdom, said "of course I knew you were afraid of commitment."

I actually grew defensive. "How the hell did you know that I was afraid of commitment?!" I demanded. She responded with "Malika, you've been in two long relationships and you've never demanded a commitment. Why else would that be?" Man, I hate it when people figure me out. Again, I said "I can't believe you knew I feared commitment." Portia responded with something about me not even being able to commit to one lip gloss. That's when I retorted with "I commit to ALL of my lip glosses!"

The lip gloss quip came after a Facebook post I'd made a while ago when I said that I'd broken my previous record of how many lip glosses I'd had in my purse at one time, by having ten in there. Honestly, its not something that I set out to do, I just have a passion for lip gloss. It's awesome how just a little bit can pull your face together. Anyway, at my birthday party, someone asked how many lip glosses I'd had in my purse at the time and I pulled out six. Which is what brought Portia to mention it.

Portia saying that brought me to once again contemplating on the whole thing. She was totally right, I'd never demanded a relationship from either guy. I've told Pookie that I don't like how he does some things, but at no point in our nearly 4 years together did I ever look him in the eye and demand a relationship. We've teeterd on the idea of marriage, by the old "if we aren't married by a certain age" conversation, but we never seriously wanted talked about it. And then there's my ex. There were actually times that I'd wanted to marry him, but again, I never seriously said to him that we needed a commitment until the end.

Portia theorized that I didn't want to relinquish control, but that wasn't it at all. I just never wanted to be tied down. Period. My lifelong friend Courtney says that it's just those guys that I don't want to marry. I don't know how right that is. There were times during my brief thing with Him where I felt that I could spend forever with him. But imagination and reality are totally different things. Sure, in theory he'd be a great husband, but there were some pivotal things that Pookie possesses that Him lacked.

I started briefly chatting with a guy that graduated from my high school a year before me. We linked up on Facebook. For a short (very short) while I told myself how cute it would be if we got together and had kids. But it wasn't too long before I realized that dude was crazy as hell, so I had to abandon that one quickly. That appears to be my modus operandi. I meet a guy, briefly entertain forever, we eventually tick each other off, and I'm back to square one.

Maybe in the end, I will just wrap up the dating thing and marry Pookie. No rush though. Commitments don't seem to be all they're cracked up to be.

Fear of Commitment

The other day, I asked Pookie if he'd want me to get an abortion if I got pregnant again. Despite what I expected to hear him say, he said "I probably shouldn't say this, but I'd say 'screw it, let's get married.' " You'd probably think that I was saying to myself "YES, THIS IS IT!!" however, my internal dialogue was saying that if I hadn't had so many problems with birth control in the past, I'd immediately go back on it.

It's not that I don't love him. I've told him more than once that if he ever fell ill or got seriously injured, I'd stick by him no matter what. It's not that he's not a great father. He cooks and cleans, and teaches our son so much. It's not that he isn't a great provider. My son is nearly 3 years old, and up until recently, he's paid all of the bills. The problem is that I have a huge fear of commitment. Yes, it's true.

It may surprise some to know that I've got a fear of relationships, but it's something I've dealt with for a long time now. Only recently have I truly internally dealt with this, although I've always known it lingered. As a matter of fact, I referred to it as my FOC in conversation with my homegirls back in the day.

I think it dates back to my relationship with my father (Freud would love that one). My father and I are really close and I can literally talk to him about anything. The thing is that for us to be close, my father is the most detached man I've ever known. We can be having a totally close moment on the phone and his phone will ring and he'll abruptly end our conversation as if I were a telemarketer. When we hug, he embraces me like I've got some kind of contagious disease. Yet he and I are so close that I've already told him that if he ever gets too old to take care of himself, I'd take him in instead of putting him in a home. Yet we barely hug. I can't remember the last time he told me he loves me, although I know that I'm the most important person in his life. And this detached creature is who I've come to seemingly model my relationships after.

I've recently come to see that my FOC is the reason that I've held my long term non-relationships is because it was actually what I'd wanted. I mean, one open relationship for 10 years and now another open one for 4 years. And I was glad to never be considered a g-word. I seriously get choked up when I think about being a... girlfriend. *shudders* So that is why my ex, David, worked so well with me for so long. If he pissed me off, I sent him home, if I pissed him off, he didn't call me. We didn't need a lot of long complicated talks, rules, and explanations. I had my freedom. Funny enough, one of his old coworkers asked if he and I were married because we seemed so familiar with one another. Yet he and I were only friends. And I loved it. If I wanted to fuck someone else, I did. There aren't any men out there that I'd wanted that I couldn't have because of another man.

Truth be told, I've started casually seeing another guy now. And I like it. I might break it off because I feel cheap sleeping with two guys, even though he's someone I dated back in the day and we've known one another for years. A part of me is feeling that things may end between me and the other guy soon, but I love having the option to do what I want.

The funny thing is that like I'd said before, I'm not much to be screwing around a lot. I simply want to reserve the right to do who and what I want, whenever I want. Is that too much to ask?

When Pookie mentioned marriage, I'd asked if he'd still screw around and if he'd expect me to do so as well. He actually said that no, if he got married it would be for real, no screwing around. You would think that I would be nervous about marrying him because I'd fear that he'd stray in a marriage again, but I was actually more worried about my own tendency to do what I want when I've reached my limit.

With my ex, it wasn't until we'd been together for nearly a decade did I say that he and I needed to look at making it official. And while I've had moments where I wanted Pookie to keep his ass (and other body parts) at home, overall, the notion of being tied to him and ONLY him chokes me up. I immediately told him that even if I got married, Blaire Underwood would still get it any day of the week.

What's crazy is that at times I can actually see myself getting married, just not to the men around me. Perhaps it's just that I've never seen myself wanting to be with any of the men I've dated for the long term. I've met some really nice guys that were marriage ready, even though I have a child with another man, and they pretty much told me that I could move in asap. Maybe that kind of stuff is what other women want to hear, but that kind of talk makes me run like hell in the other direction. It's bad enough for me to get into a long committed relationship, it's another thing to bring my son into some craziness also.

So here I am, technically uncommitted. And it works for me.

Friday NIghty MJQ Fuckery

God, I love MJQ Concourse in Atlanta, Georgia. I've been going there since before I was 20 when my former boss (who was a dj at the time) had to vouch for me to get in. Since then, I've had numerous awesome nights there. I wonder if they'd let my ashes be scattered there. Hmmm... I'll have to look into that. Anyway, I ended up there last night, and I was absolutely amazed at the amount of fuckery I was lucky enough to witness. Just to let you know, all of the pictures in this blog were taken last night, except for the one of me and Murph. I wish my phone battery had held up longer, because there was so much debauchery to photograph.

The day started out when Roderick (hi Rod!) told me that his girlfriend Bridget was coming to town and he wanted to take her out. He decided that MJQ would give her a good dose of the city. I called Solomon, Greg, and Daisy to see if they wanted to come out also. The guys didn't make it, but Daisy did.

I rolled my ass out of bed, and went down to meet them. I'm short on cash right now so I prayed that someone I knew would let me in for free. I went to the door and didn't see my homies, so I was prepared to give the bouncer a story when he looked at me and said "what's up?!" and hugged me and shooed me on inside for the freeski. God, membership has it's privileges. The funny thing is that while I was outside I saw a crowd of about 10 people trying to pool their money to buy everyone's way in. I chuckled at how pissed they must have been to see me walk up out of no where and be treated so nicely. In my defense though, I've been a regular for over 10 years and God knows, I've paid my dues for occasional free admittance. Not only that, when the more eccentric folks are given special privileges, it makes us want to go there more, which keeps the atmosphere dope. Honestly, the crowd last night wasn't as artsy as it normally is, so I hope and pray that MJQ keeps it diverse appeal.

Once I got in, I ran into Murph, one of the bouncers. Murph is one of the strangest and coolest men I've ever met. He actually came and spoke with my homie SkyHy to one of my communications classes while at Kennesaw. I walked in and flirted heavily with him as always before I departed to find my friends. I've flirted with Murph since we first met, and typically when we text one another, he'll ask for pictures of my tits. And I must ask, what is not to love about that man? I remember being outside of the club one night with Murph and Daisy. He held my hand as he complimented Daisy's ass. Only a true pimp could do it like that and no one get offended. Later on, Daisy suggested that the next time I saw him I should play with his nipples. As sweet as the offer was, I declined. She informed me that his nipples are pierced and that he'd enjoy it. Again, I passed.

Eventually I found Rod, Daisy, and Bridget. Daisy and I decided to go outside, which is where we ended up the whole night. I have to add that Bridget is absolutely adorable and I think that she and Rod are a great fit. She also promised to save me some of the banana pudding that she's going to make, which makes her my new best friend.

Outside of the club is actually normally where the magic happens at the club. Don't get me wrong, the music at the club is bananas and the vibe is the best, but unless it's really cold, I typically end up hanging outside when I go. As Daisy and I sat outside, we talked and caught up as always. I've known her for a few years now, but lately we've really gotten close, which I'm enjoying. Anyway, outside of the club is where the magic happened.

First, I ran into an old friend from childhood, Stacy. Some asshole I used to be cool with had the nerve to walk up to me and put his arms around me and tell me hello. I politely told him to burn in hell. That's when Stacy commented that she didn't know it was "Linen Night" at the club, commenting on his suit. I swear that girl needs help.

Next we saw Murph fling some drunk dude outside and tell him not to come back. The guy slunk away as we sat back and wondered what happened. The funny thing is that most bouncers are complete gentlemen to the ladies, but let some fool get out of pocket and they enjoy putting a foot in his ass. I guess that's why I've always gravitated to bouncers on a personal level, I always feel very respected and protected with them.

A while later, we saw a white cop car roll up. We commented on how beat up it looked and someone told us that they were the Task Force meaning that because they were the ass beaters of the APD and they're the ones that traditionally kick in doors. They rode around in a car that was beat up with a bad paint job because they could. The car stopped in the lot and the officer working outside of the club went to the side of the car and said hello to the cops inside the car. A few minutes later, a car pulled up behind the cop car. After waiting a few seconds, they decided to honk the horn to urge the car in front of them to go. I guess they didn't realized they were honking at 3 cops to hurry up so they could go around. That's when I saw the officer, who is a total cutie (damn him for being married!) get "that look." You know that look that says, "apparently, I'm gonna have to beat somebody's ass," right? Everyone outside laughed because it seems that the genius that was driving didn't seem to see that he was honking at a uniformed cop, who was leaning in and talking to fellow cops in a painted cop car. Officer Cutie was cool about it. I don't know what he said to them, but he quickly walked up to their car and they weren't seen for the rest of the night after they hauled ass. Needless to say, the original cop car stayed parked, firmly in place.

This was around the time that I start to proclaim "I'm totally gonna blog about tonight." A while later, I saw another bouncer carry another guy outside, drunk. This dude looked bad. Really bad. He layed on his back on the ground and rolled around. We all looked at him and shook our heads pathetically. Someone came and grabbed him later. He actually looked kind of sad and pitiful as he put on his really thick glasses and tailed behind his friend and they left.

Next up, we saw that Officer Cutie was having a hard time with someone. That was when I noticed that the officer was starting to handcuff the guy. Later, I saw him trying to subdue the guy. Despite me growing way tired, I decided that I wasn't going to leave until I saw him taken away. Yeah, it was growing into one of those nights. The crowd outside of the club started to grow at this time as more stragglers started to head out as the club was getting ready to close.

Around this time I met some guy that was clearly trying to flirt. He'd taken Daisy out before and she told me about how wack he was, and I got to see firsthand how right she was. I knew he was gonna be a loser when he looked at my locs and said "I want to grow my hair back out." Now I don't know if other women get this and if it bugs them as much as it bugs me, but I HATE it when a guy tries to relive the glory days of his hair while talking to me. I don't give a damn how long someone's hair used to be. I really don't. And then they try to hold long conversations about how they used to take care of it. UGH! Just LEAVE!!

Then we saw Murph bringing out a drunk woman. It was actually kind of sweet how nice he was to her, as he gently placed her on the sidewalk and then informed her that he was about to go into her purse and use her phone to call her daughter to come get her. Then he disappeared back inside. A part of me wanted to sit with her to make sure she'd be okay, but then another part of me just knew that I didn't want the responsibility of that, so I didn't. A few minutes later, Dres tha Beatnik rolled up. Dres is a well respected MC and host, and pretty much considered Atlanta royalty. He had been hosting that night in the club. We said our hellos and caught up. That's when the drunk chick started to hurl. I felt kind of bad for her but I still wasn't going there. Dres then said that watching her there was cool and that he never got to see drunk people throw up. I reminded him that he spends 4 nights a week in a club for a career. He responded that he gets to see the pretty side of club life, but rarely does he get to see the part where people get plastered and laid out. The pic below is of Dres and Daisy. A few minutes later I looked over at her and noticed that her vomit had spread and she was now sitting in it, in her white pants. Nice.

Around this time, the club had totally let out and a cop car rolled up to take away the guy that pissed off Officer Cutie. Rod and Bridget had left by then and a friend was about to walk Daisy to her car. I knew that the night was coming to an end so I bid adieu to everyone.

MJQ Concourse, I love you.

Magic Numbers

I don't know how the topic came up this evening, but somehow Pookie and I got to discussing our magic numbers. Being one for total honesty (even thought it appears to work against me more often than not), I told him. He looked at me and said "bullshit." I looked him in his eye and swore on my child's head that I was telling him the truth. That's when he told me that he'd heard that I'd been quite wild in my old days. I admitted to him that I had, in fact dated a lot of men, but by no means did all of them make it to my promised land.

Pookie and I, while we didn't roll in the same circles, we did run in circles that in some ways intersected. We knew of some of the same people. Some people I knew quite well and he'd only met in passing, and vice versa. Anyway, he claims that he'd heard my name linked to quite a few guys. I told him that I was flattered to be linked with so many guys, but that really wasn't the case.

The funny thing is that this isn't the first time he'd said something like that. The first time was during a heated argument, so I figured he'd only said it to piss me off at the time (mission accomplished). But now that we were cool, I couldn't figure out where this would be coming from. I asked him to tell me what he'd heard and of course he declined.

Its funny that the issue of men lying about sex actually came up earlier today. I'd hung out with the hot guy from my birthday party and he told me that he'd gotten down with a homegirl of mine back in the day. I wasn't mad that she'd gotten down with him, I was moreso mad that he told me about it after she'd clowned him for being a cornball after she took care of him when he had some dental work done. I told myself that I wouldn't ask her about it, but like every other time I advise myself not to do something, I did it anyway. I hit her up and asked. The funny thing is that she and I are just alike, and she was so open on the phone, that I highly doubted she was lying. Which means that perhaps he was lying instead. I chalked it up to him being doped up from the dental procedure, and not him being a douchebag. But then I was reminded of another guy I'd known back in the day who told me he got down with a homegirl. I asked her about it, and in fact, my guy friend was lying. So perhaps men do lie about who they're geting it from.

I again insisted to him that my number was accurate. And again Pookie accused me of lying. He said that for my number to be accurate, I'd only had sex with about one person per year since I'd started having sex at 17 with David. I quickly did the math in my head and said "yeah, I guess so." Again, he called "bullshit."

According to his sources, I'd been all over the club scene. I admitted to him that yes, I dated a lot of guys, but honestly many of them were quite unfuckable. Some were too anxious, some were just assholes, some I didn't really connect with, one came by my house and THAT was when he told me he had a girlfriend, I remember one being coked up (and I suspect another of being the same way), and a multitude of other reasons. The funny thing is that most of the men I'd slept with came before I even became a club girl.

For some reason, Pookie refuses to believe me. He doesn't believe that most of the men I dated were never in the club scene like that. Many of them were just regular Joes that I'd met in various ways. I had to remind Pookie that between him, who I've been with for nearly 4 years, my ex David, who I was with for 10 years, and my ex Sebastian, who I was with for a year and a half, I haven't really had a reason to pursue many new men. Still, he maintained that I was lying. Pookie said that he should multiply my number by 3 to get the actual number. Despite me telling him that we've only randomly run into one guy that I've ever been with, he swears that many of the men that I hug and embrace when we're out must be people that I've screwed.

Like many other issues in my life, I took to Facebook to vent about it. That's when my cousin chimed in, so I texted her the number. That's when she responded with "if (the number) is high, then I'm a whore." I laughed and started to feel a lot better.

While I'd always known that I wasn't the slut that many people would like to think, to have Pookie think that I must be lying and then have my cousin tell me that she'd stopped counting made me feel a hell of a lot better. I'm feeling so good, I might just go put my magic number on a t-shirt. I'm not so easy after all, so why not flaunt it?

Life Begins at 30!

I have no idea why even many of the simplest things in my life have to be so complicated. Needless to say, even something like my 30th birthday and party had to be that much harder. I was going to write a post about the fun and shenanigans of my bday, and I still might, but for now I think I'll just focus on the reflection of such a momentous day.

Anyway, stuff has been crazy. As a grown woman (teehee!) I've learned not to measure the progress of my life on the progress of my relationship. I can't say that I don't understand a woman that does it, because I did it for so long, but I now know that the true measure of my progress is how I feel about myself and my life, not whether or not I'm fighting with Pookie. One day I talked to one of Pookie's friends and he related our situation to that of his deceased mother when he said that he'd learned that people sometimes love you in their own way. How true that is. I know that Pookie loves me and that's good enough for me. He also knows that I love him.

Either way, I'm not going to wait decades on end hoping to get married to him or anyone else. I've known far too many women that sit around and judge my relationship with him. The fact is, my whole freaking life I've been the object of rumors and speculation. I've kind of realized that oftentimes in life, the women that are talked the most about are the most envied. A woman that I used to work with at Pizza Hut made my life hell because she constantly scrutinized and criticized me. Years later, I realized that her criticism came because she felt that I'd broken all of the rules that she felt she wasn't allowed to. I partied, I was popular and outgoing, I was social, I was loved, I was an individual and I was comfortable in my own skin. So that fat woman with a Jheri curl and job that she hated, soon learned to hate me as well because I was young, independent and happy. Sadly, that hatred follows me as other women look at me and wish that I as miserable as they are, but that simply isn't the case. I don't do anything that anyone else couldn't do. Anyone can loc their hair (I seriously do not understand why other women are so afraid to), anyone can learn to be flirtatious (I've thought about offering classes on how to flirt with men), anyone can go to school. Seriously, I don't do anything that other women can't do. So why hate me for loving myself and my flaws? Are other women honestly so insecure and feeling so tied down what they resent those of us that comfortably live our own lives to the fullest?

Crazily enough, as I think about approaching relationships that don't involve Pookie, the more men I meet. While I talk about some of many the guys I've kicked it with, I'm not nearly as slutty as some would like to believe. Quite the contrary. The fact is that I'm such a cerebral person that not many men measure up to what it takes emotionally and mentally for me to sleep with them, even on a casual level. Yes, I have been surrounded by beautiful men, but the overwhelming majority have been just friends. Oftentimes people want to assume that I'm screwing my guy friends, but those are just petty people doing and thinking petty things. I don't even bother to try to explain to some folks what my relationship is with my guy friends, because much like everything else in my life, its none of their damned business.

Speaking of petty, my best friend Portia told me at my party that my stalker actually emailed her and attempted to do it anonymously (just like my stalker comes on here anonymously). I laughed my ass off when I heard it. Apparently my stalker thinks that Portia is simple enough to be swayed by compliments of her commercial and her beloved father, Fred "ReRun" Berry. Portia was kind of weirded out, but I thought it was hilarious. I actually enjoy my stalker doing such stupid things as that because when she does it proves that I'm not making it up when I talk about what a fucking ignorant cunt she is (hi chloe you pill popping hooker!!)

Anyway, I talked to another guy friend of mine recently (hey, I can't help being popular). My homie was going through it. He was frustrated about his life and where he feels he should be at the age of 40. That's when I told him that my dad started grad school when he was 40. Dad had been on drugs for nearly half of his life and when he stopped using, and one of the first things he did was go back to school. It's nearly 20 years after that and dad is still clean and sober and he's since got his Ph.D. as well. My father has served as an inspiration for me in a lot of ways. I've heard a lot of shit in my life about how long it took for me to get my degree, but the fact is that my degree is something that no amount of petty gossip can ever take away from me. Honestly, the only folks that ever open their mouth about how long it took me don't even have degrees. Seriously, I've heard 3 or 4 people make snide remarks about it and not ONE of them had a degree. I guess it shows you how jealousy really is, huh? Now when I'm talking to my kids or even their parents who are going through a lot of mess, I let them know that I, Malika, was able to go to school after having a mom that hated me, sisters that bullied me, a boyfriend that abused me, and hating myself for so long. I can always recognize that gleam in someone's eye when I tell them the story about myself and my dad and they think to themself "maybe I can do it too!"

So many people look at my job and love the fact that I've got so much flexibility in my schedule. I let them know that my DEGREE (that lil' old 10 year piece of paper) is what got me my job. I often tell people that if they go get theirs as well, they can have the same amount of happiness that I have. I talked to another one of the guys trying to get at me, and he and I talked about how when you're in the field of social work, you can make as much or as little money as you want. There are so many people that do what I do and make a damned good living doing it. My dad is urging me to get licensed so that I can become a counselor and begin my own practice. I'd really like to do that. While I love the boys that I work with too, I feel a tad closer to the girls I work with because I was them for so long. If I get licensed, I can write books and be more specific about my clientele.

Dad tells me that once I get a license, I can pull in close to $200k a year. Little does he know that I'm not in it for the money, I do it because working with children and families is what I love to do. As long as I make enough to take care of me and my family, who gives a rat's rump about the pay? Only someone that's looking to fulfill an empty void would work a job they hate to make $50k. Why make so little when you can make a small fortune following your natural calling?

Anyway, on a slight tangent, Pookie was away from my birthday party because he ended up being called in to work. I wasn't too upset though. I ended up having another date that night instead (yes, it was a separate guy. Hey, when you're as charismatic as I am, men are drawn to you. Call it a gift and a curse.) I'm not gonna say my date's name (freaking nosy haters are making it hard for me to say names on here) but he treated me like a princess and made sure I had a blast. He held my hand and complimented my adorable dress the whole night. My birthday date reminded me once again of how a man should make a woman feel. The fact that he's a total hottie and makes my heart jump didn't hurt either. The funny thing about him is that we have an amazing sexual chemistry, but I'd never pursue a relationship with him because we're so different. So I've gladly accepted having a flirtatious relationship with yet another good looking man. I saw my homegirls drooling over him the whole night and I honestly don't blame them. He is FINE! :)

So anyway, the age of 30 has taught me that petty women are going to continue to be petty. But as long as I'm comfortable with who I am, the genuine people are going to stick by me, and the insecure gossipmongers are going to continue to have something in my life to harp on, whether it has anything to do with them or not.

I'm Malika, I love myself, and I'm 30. Who wouldn't want to be me?

Friends Ignoring Malika's Advice: Part 2

For some very odd reason, I've become the voice of reason in the love lives of a lot of my friends. Perhaps its the fact that I genuinely give a damn or the fact that I've gone through hell and back and I have no problem sharing what I've learned about love. Perhaps its that I dole out advice to my kids as part of my career. Whatever it is, I've become quite comfortable in my role as a wisecracking mother hen with a take-no-prisoners type of attitude and my friends love me for it.

Well anyway, I'd talked a while ago about my homie, Sherita. Sherita has some kind of "thing" going with Pookie's cousin, whom I'll call "Daniel." Sherita and Daniel dated back in the day and truthfully, she didn't put her best foot forward in their long distance relationship, so Daniel ended up with a girlfriend who is a nutty as squirrel shit. Daniel does, in fact, still carry a flame for Sherita, but him living near Macon, Georgia (nearly 2 hours away from us in Atlanta) makes it hard for him to pursue things with her. But then there's also other stuff.

Enter the conversation that Sherita and I had over pizza a few nights ago. She again said how much she desires to be with him and how at times she feels that he's going to eventually marry her.*Shaking my head* I told Sherita point blank that it's not going to happen and she'd do better to go back to the drawing board, rather than hang on, the way I'd done before. Now it's not that I dislike Daniel. Quite the contrary, he's a really good dude. The problem is that in order to move to Atlanta, Daniel would have to break up with his girlfriend, transfer both of his jobs, find a new place to live, and separate himself from his mother who he still lives with.

I wish that I could easily describe Daniel's attachment to his mother. Man. Oh man. To call her controlling would be a vast understatement. I'm gonna call her "Mama." Mama and I have talked on several occasions about various issues. She's a really smart and head strong woman. She's also crazy as hell. During one of our conversations, we'd talked about her mortality and I shared with her that I'd told Pookie that if anything ever happened to her, I'd gladly let Daniel stay with us. That's when she told me that no, Daniel was not allowed to move to Atlanta if anything happened to her, he'd have to stay with relatives in their small town or relatives in South Carolina. Do you understand what I just said? Mama plans to control her son who is now close to 30 even when she's DEAD. How the hell could Sherita compete with her while she's alive?

So of course, I told Sherita to count her losses and cut the strings from Daniel. The man is simply not going to leave both of his jobs, his girlfriend, and his extremely controlling mother to move to a new city and wife her. If she won't let him move to Atlanta when she's dead, she sure as hell won't let him go while she's alive. It is simply not going to happen. But like many others, Sherita chooses to ignore the obvious.

And then there's my friend "Keisha." Keisha and I go back some years and she's a true sweetheart. Keisha used to date a well known rapper out of Atlanta. I mean major. I can't say his name, but let's just say that he's done all of the major media outlets such as 106 & Park and if you listen to hiphop radio stations, you've bobbed your head to some of his music. She and her ex got pretty hot and heavy but he eventually broke her heart. They stayed close though, even after he blew up. Anyway, she and I linked up recently and she told me that she thought she might be pregnant. I asked her about the father and she admitted that he is the road manager of her ex.

That's when she told me that the father also had a 3-month-old son. I advised her to run like hell. I told her that I'm living proof of what he's leaving at home. I told her that Pookie has lied to other women about me when I'd just given birth and that only a selfish louse would leave a woman that just had a baby to pursue a relationship with another woman. I told Keisha how hard it is to take care of a newborn and how they don't sleep at night and how as the child's mother, you can't eat, sleep, shave your legs, poop, shower, pee or have a moment's rest. And that time is when you need the father of your child the most. So like I said, only a total tool would be in the streets looking for new tail when he's got a new baby at home. She told me that he seemed "sincere." *Sigh* Pookie seemed sincere too. Now I'd give anything to not have to stare at him on some days.

Keisha ended up not being pregnant, but she said that she and the dude are going to give it a go. I advised her to go on the pill or depo shot asap. I told her that she didn't want to be pregnant by the guy. Truthfully, I think that she wanted to be pregnant. And I can see how fun it can look to have a baby. I'm so thankful that I was only 5 classes short of my degree when I got pregnant because I don't see any other way that I could have gone to college full time with a baby. I'm blessed to have the job that I have, but things are gonna get difficult again as I'm about to go start grad school. But try explaining that to her. Hell, folks tried to tell me how hard it was to take care of a baby. Man, how right they were.

So anyway, despite me having 14 years of bad relationships and ignoring glaring signs under my belt, my home girls continue to ignore my advice and chase dead end situations. It's okay though. I'll be here to listen to them when things don't go well.

That's what I'm here for.

Countdown to 30/ 100 Blogs of Malika

Yep, it's about that time. I, Malika S. Flowers, am officially just a week and a half from being 30 years old. I knew that I'd want to do something big for the day (I am Malika for God's sake), but I had no clue what. I'd gone through so many changes and hadn't done any planning but I got on the phone with my homeboy Roderick one night, and he told me that he'd help me plan a party. God, I love Roderick. He actually reads my blog (hi Rod!!) so it's crazy to me when we talk and he asks me about my blog. I'd even disclosed to him who the ultrasecretive "Him" is.

We got together along with our friend Daisy one night and we ended up checking out a few spots for me to have it. It felt so good to hang out with them. Daisy used to be a server at Maggiano's until she got her degree in education and became a Spanish teacher. Due to her doing her thing, me doing the mom thing, and Roderick doing his own thing, we really hadn't gotten to see one another in a while. I don't think that either of them know how much hanging out that night meant to me. We laughed and caught up with one another's lives since we'd last seen one another. Roderick ended up hanging with another friend that night and Daisy and I rode on to Eastside Lounge to catch up to our other homeboy Raphael.

The next day I'd felt like it was all a wonderful dream. It was only a few years ago that we were all regulars at Apache Cafe and MJQ, and now life had made us all float into other directions. Thank goodness for Facebook or we'd probably never see or hear from one another. Not because we don't love one another, but it seems that's just how life is.

Caleb will be 3 in a few months and I really haven't been on the scene like that since right before I got pregnant. Once I was with child, I'd only made the occasional starring appearance. How I'd missed my homies. I even told Daisy and Roderick that I enjoy going to some of my old stomping grounds and having new heads look at me like "who the hell is that?!" as I walk up and get and show love to and from many of Atlanta's finest artists. Trust me, the underground music scene in Atlanta is a fickle one. I still make the occasional appearance at MJQ (the bouncer is my homie and he sometimes asks for tit pics via text messages, which is a part of the reason that we love him) but needless to say, it's just not the same. Such is life, I guess.

So anyway, I swear I'd put Daisy and Roderick through so much as I had them combing the internet and city for the perfect venue. Thankfully I found a cool spot that has everything I want, plus they cater. Oh yes, this is gonna be BIG. :)

While on the topic of aging and changes, I guess I'll take this time to commemorate my 100th blog post. Every now and again I'll comb through my old postings. I have to say, that not to toot my own horn, but I guess I am a pretty good writer. As hokey as it sounds, I even sometimes laugh at my own ramblings out loud.

A while ago, just for giggles, I googled the web address of my blog. I'd actually discovered that someone had linked to the blog I'd written on Chris Brown and Rihanna. I was actually pretty floored and humbled by that. I remembered the many fights that Pookie and I have had, and I remember the sweet things he'd done too. I wish I hadn't deleted the post about my birthday last year.

It's been such a long beautiful journey. At one point I was going to change my web address when I'd found out that fat tacky jealous skeezer was reading my blog, but after talking to my homie who works at MJQ, I decided to leave it. He reminded me that I've got a few loyal readers and that this is me and what I do, and people love it so I'd just have to accept that the fat bitch was going to jock me regardless.

So anyway, thank you loyal readers (including you, you fat pill popping, alcoholic hooker, Chloe Colbert) for reading my blog and sharing in the beauty, growth, and wonderment that is my life. Here's to another 30 years and another 100 blogs *cheers*

Malika

Friend Requests

So the other day my friend Tasha* (names have been changed to keep my friends' business up out of the streets) called me and said "guess who requested to friend me on Facebook? Rita!*" Before I go on any further, I need to explain who Rita is. Rita slept with Tasha's husband about 6 years ago. Rita had spent so long trying to pretend that she was simply a friend of Tasha's husband, but obviously at least once, she was more. Needless to say, Tasha hates everything about Rita and hates her pretty much as much as I hate the slutbag skeezer that's stalked me for over a decade.

Tasha was PISSED. As soon as I heard, I gave her the sage advice to decline the invite, and then block Rita. I told her that if she accepted it, she'd end up pouring over every word and picture on Rita's page, and every time Rita updated her page with anything, including something as simple as "gm fb" Tasha would just look at her husband and hate his ass all over again. That's when Tasha admitted that she'd already accepted Rita's invite because her page was private and she wanted to see what she was up to, and that she'd spent 2 hours looking at her pictures and looking at Rita's children, to be sure that none of them looked like her own husband or their children. We laughed and then Tasha agreed to unfriend and then block her.

That's when Tasha had to ask me why on Earth Rita would send her a friend invite. I answered honestly, "curiosity." "What?" She asked. I explained to her that Rita sent her the friend invite the same reason that she'd accepted it. They both wanted to see what and how the other was doing. It was never about friendship for either of them. Tasha also found out that Rita had sent a friend invite to her husband and she promptly blocked her from her husband's profile.

I told Tasha about my theory that most women are sane and sensible creatures 99% of the time, but 1% of the time, we're batshit crazy. The problem is in the lapses in judgment that we're typically dealing with. Like I said, 99% of the time, we'll be on the straight and narrow, but suddenly that one thing that's a bad idea most of the time suddenly becomes a good idea to you. God only knows how or why that is. Once that 1% hits, you'll all of a sudden decide to call the exboyfriend that you swore you wouldn't call, drive by a guy's house at 4 in the morning, or you email a woman that you hate, who hates you in return. Or you send her a friend invite. Yep, 1% can be a bitch. I swore off Him because it was the right thing to do, but when my 1% pops up, I still visit him and stare longingly at his Facebook page.

I'd had my own experience with such occurrences. When I was pregnant I got a Myspace friend invite from someone that happened to have the wife of my son's father in her top friends. Needless to say, I declined the invite. A short while later the wife had logged into his Myspace page in order to look at my page. I'd written a short blog where I said that he and I were getting along (I honestly didn't say anything bad, all I'd said was that we were getting along) and she hit the Goddamned roof. Anyway, his exwife had always been portrayed as the cool and calm, drama free one, but truth of the matter is that she's just as nutty as the rest of us. From what I hear, she pretends to be so in control of her emotions, that I wish she'd just open up and admit to having feelings. Who wants to pretend to be a robot? How insincere is that? But anyway...

Tasha has since moved on and Rita is no longer on her mind and her Facebook page is now safe. Until one of them has another 1% moment.

And THAT Makes You Unfuckable

I've been thinking lately about a few things, and I've decided that I should put together a list of things that make a guy unfuckable. I didn't plan to share this, but Next ended up having some characteristics that I just couldn't fool with, so I decided to nip it in the bud, before I got too caught up (*high five* to me for seeing the signs and cutting it short before it got too deep). Anyway, here are the top ten things that make a dude unfuckable to me. This list is based on stuff that I've dealt with personally and some of the things my homies have gone through. These really aren't in any particular order. Feel free to add your own in the comments section.


10. Bad hygeine. No matter how good looking a guy is, if he smells like butt, he doesn't have a shot in hell of getting a woman's real first name, let alone getting the panties. Deodorant, mouthwash, soap, and a clean hair are important. Your mama may love you if you smell like a pig's ass, that chick in the club with the big knockers you're trying to get at? Not so much.

9. Unable to hold a good conversation. I hate it when I'm having a good time and telling funny stories and a guy just can't keep up. A guy should also be remotely familiar with the news. There is no reason for a grown ass man to not know who the vice president is. You don't have to know who the speaker of the house is (extra cootchie points if you do though) but at least have some damned clue about who and what runs the country.

8. Priding yourself on being stupid. Okay, this one is a continuation on the last one. Some guys are stupid, but it's a whole new thing when he's proud of his sense of stupidity. If someone thinks its a sign of greatness that he can't name a single Elton John song or that he hasn't picked up anything to read since Clinton was in Office (and when he did read, it was only XXL magazine), it's time to put your panties back on and send him home.

7. Being a known hoe. Your boys might think it's great that you'll stick your dick in anything with a pulse, but women really aren't trying to hear that mess. Only pro athletes and highly successful rappers can get away with being easy. If you are willing to screw a chick, but you wouldn't be caught dead talking to her in public, for fear that someone you respect and want to impress may see you, you are not a pimp. You are not a mack. You are not "the man." You are a HOE.

6. Kids you have that you don't claim. So what, you had sex with a chick whose a hideous beast and world class bitch. Well, dude, that's your own damned fault. It's not the child's fault that you hate their mama, man up and take responsibilitly. No woman would want to risk a broken condom with a known sperm donor.

5. Living with your parents. Now, I'm not suggesting that all women are gold diggers so a man has to be living in a mansion for us to get with him. Many women are more than understanding that times are tough and sometimes we have to make sacrifices and do things that we don't like, such as downsizing in order to save money. (If that's the case, extra points if you take us to a nice hotel to get it on). But if you stay at your parents house and all you do is smoke weed and play Xbox all day, there is nothing we can do for you, nor you can do for us. What kind of woman would want to fuck you on your mama's couch?

4. A filthy apartment or car. Underwear in the middle of the damned floor, ants, forks stuck to the plates on the floor, mold in the refrigerator. What is that smell?! When was the last time this fool vacuumed or cleaned out the freaking toilet?! You want a woman who loves you no matter what, but only some low class broad with no standards would sleep with you in a nasty house. In the end, women think that if your house isn't clean, neither is your butt.

3. Omitting information that you know we'd want. Yes, we want to know if you slept with someone in our immediate family or close friend. Yes we want to know if you've got an incurable STD, or if you're trying to get us to come home with you, be up front and let us know if you share a bedroom with your little brother (enter #5). Yes, we also want to know if you slept with someone that we hate (you slept with that bitch?! Jesus Christ, how low are your standards?!) I've always been a fan of being honest, because the truth will always come out eventually. It's not worth the drama it will cause if the truth comes out later without you telling us first.

2. No job, no plans, no education, no future. No chance. When you're 18, no one really expects you to have a clear plan for where you want your life to go. However, when you're damned near 30, nobody is hearing that crap. Dude, get off the couch. Feed the homeless, go to school, find a job, go for a jog, read a book, write a dang book, just do something! It's so frustrating to see a man with so much potential waste his life and give up before it even started. And then that bum will want you to sit home on the couch with him and waste your damned life too just because he's got no ambition. Ladies say it with me "No, thank you."

1. Being a liar. God, I hate liars. Liars assume that everyone around them is stupid, which is irritating on so many levels. No, you're not ceo of a major company. No, you're not a platinum selling rapper. No, you're not secretly rich. No, you're not a Ph.D. Jesus fucking Christ, just tell the goddamned truth already. Women aren't stupid, despite what men have to tell themselves to make it through the day. Because women are notoriously and stupidly compassionate, most men could still get ass (it would be sympathy ass, but hey, tail is tail) if they admitted to how pathetic their existences really are.

On Sharing What I've Learned

Pookie and I have been kicking it for nearly 4 years now, so needless to say, we've become quite familiar with each other's families and situations. Pookie has a cousin that kicked it with a girl I'll call Sherita. Sherita and I took to one another like glue. She's so nutty and naive that she reminds me of myself. That being said, we've forged a bit of a friendship over the years and she's become a tad like a little sister to me.

Sherita recently called me to complain that Pookie's cousin has taken up with a skank and despite she and the cousin remaining close friends he tries to play Sherita to the left while his new chick is around. Suddenly the new broad is contacting Sherita and telling her to leave dude alone. When Sherita calls him, if the chick is around, he'll forcefully tell her to beat it, only to call her back begging and pleading once his girlfriend is gone. When Sherita called me to complain that the chick is making things hard and that she loves him and only wants to be friends (bullshit) I told Sherita point blank to let his ass go.

Sherita saw no point in letting him go. She feels that she was with the cousin first and she should be a priority. I explained to her that no matter how many couldas, wouldas, and shouldas, she could come up with, it was a lost cause. I told her point blank that despite what my ex would tell his pill popping slut, he and I both knew that he had a real love for me. But it took me 10 years to finally see how full of shit he truly was and is. I told Sherita that she didn't want to be with a man that couldn't show loyalty to any one woman (the fact is, he's playing both of them), either his girlfriend or his "homegirl." Sherita had so many reasons that she should hold on. Their history, their love, their deep friendship, their long conversations. I told her straight up that all of that meant nothing if he wasn't man enough to be honest with his girlfriend about Sherita's friendship.

It wasn't until that conversation that I realized that perhaps I truly have learned a little about love and relationships from my ordeal with my ex. Now that I've had time to digest things and sit back and reflect, I'm that much more thankful that I have been able to move on and find a new love. No, I'm not loving another man, I'm learning to truly love myself first.

Moving on, this past weekend, Pookie and I went to Middle Georgia to his uncle's surprise birthday party. I had a great time getting to hang out with the family. While there, I ran into the girlfriend of another cousin (Cousin 2). She and I had actually met a few years ago at the birthday party of Pookie's baby cousin. She was his new girlfriend and since I was pretty new to the clan, I knew to fall back and let my questions answer themselves. I could tell that they (the women in the family) weren't too fond of her for one reason or another. She came in with an infant in her arms (not his child) and she remained silently on the couch after being announced and saying her hellos. I hated to see her sitting by herself, so I made it a point to talk to her and try to help her feel comfortable. She was only 19 and had 2 children (neither of them were his). From there I could understand why she may not look like a prize to the women in Cousin 2's family. But from where I stood, she struck me as a humble, loving, and sweet girl. She even called me ma'am even though I was only 8 years older than her. I'd wondered how she'd been since then.

When I ran into her at the party, I told her that it was good to see her and that I was glad she'd stuck around. Although I have no idea how Cousin 2 would be in a relationship, I know firsthand that despite being very loving and open, the women in Pookie's family are protective of their men (as most women are of the men in their families). She told me point blank that Cousin 2 wasn't holding up his end of the relationship and she's frustrated as hell because he doesn't do or take care of shit. I took a long sip of my margarita and told her to dump his ass. Even though I consider Pookie's relatives my in-laws despite us not being married (which would kind of make Cousin 2 like my cousin) I looked her square in the eye and told her that if after 2 years he still isn't making her happy, to let his ass go. Dammit, that was a good margarita. Anyway, she said how much she loves him and blah blah blah. I repeated to let him go. Cousin 2 is a talented artist and she wants to move to Atlanta for herself and for his career, however dude doesn't want to move with her. She thinks that if she makes the trip solo, he'll try to move in with her, while leaving her to carry the financial burden (damned if that didn't sound familiar) and stress of handling the move alone. I told her again to let it go. I even told her that if she wants to come visit Atlanta and see the city to check on moving here, she's always welcome on me and Pookie's couch. She remained nervous, but in love. I could see in her eye that she wasn't going anywhere (not now at least).

I recalled to her that I spent 10 years trying to make a man love me. A man that no matter what, he'll never remotely love any woman (not even his mama) as much as he loves himself. That fool isn't even that involved in his daughter's life. And while Pookie is most certainly an upgrade from my ex, he still isn't capable of fully giving me the love I want and deserve. Which is why I'm moving out. And I couldn't be happier with that.

For a long time I'd wondered why my life had to be so hard. I've always been loving and loyal. I've always been outgoing and easily made friends. So what the hell did I do to deserve some of the shit I'd been through? I'd even tried to kill myself once and seriously wanted to a few times after that. No matter what I'd had in mind, the higher power chose to keep me here. But now that I have a job where I work with troubled children, I see that much of it happened to me for a reason. I can talk to a kid for 10 minutes and get inside of their head. I know what they want and how they think and what they need. One of my girls is 17 and she's dealing with a guy that was a lot like my ex (and he was her first, just like my ex was my first). I want so bad to head her off at the pass so she doesn't waste a decade of her life loving a man with a shitload of issues the way I did. I'd always hoped that the crazy stuff I went through could eventually be used to help other people in trouble.

It looks like I'm finally getting my wish.

Fear

There aren't too many things I fear other than moths and mushrooms. I don't fear death, I don't fear rejection, I don't fear failure (as evidenced by the many poor decisions I've made in my life) but there is one thing that makes my heart nearly stop beating.

The other day I took one of my kids to Georgia State University, where she wants to enroll as an undergrad student and I want to enroll as a grad student. We had a great time talking about how awesome her life will be once she graduates high school in a few weeks. I enjoyed recalling the fun my friends and I had the summer after I graduated high school. Then I looked at her and told her that I'd like to come to her graduation, but I simply can't. She urged me to and said how much she'd enjoy having me there. I thought about it. It seemed pretty cool and I'd love to be there to cheer her on. I told her that I might be able to make it after all.

Once I dropped her at home, I started to think about it even more. I started to think about that day. A day that has remained the worst day of my life. A day that started out as the happiest, suddenly became the most tragic.

The day I graduated high school was a warm June day. I remember my all white outfit, down to my ugly white Payless shoes. I actually found myself looking back on my high school years and thinking that no matter how much I said I wouldn't, I actually would miss high school. After the ceremony I anxiously went to meet my family so that we could go eat. I went out into the aisles of the church and I saw them. My little sister looked at me and said "Malika, Tracey's dead." That's it. No "we need to talk" no waiting, no warning, no asking me to sit down first. I looked at her, my dad, and at the time, my dad's girlfriend and said "don't play like that, that's not funny." I searched their faces for answers. Was Tracey there and they were playing an awful prank on me? My stepmother's face was blank as was my father's. I misinterpreted his blank look as a smirk and said again "Seriously, that's not funny." My father looked up and said "she didn't get enough insulin." I ran and found a pew in the church. I threw myself down and cried. I bawled and screamed at the top of my lungs. My cousin was gone. My best friend. The woman that I'd shared so much time with over the last few years. And she was gone. My friend Talicia and I bummed a ride home with someone else. I was in shock. I remember how I kept repeating that my cousin was dead. She was buried a week later, June 19, 1998, the day before my 18th birthday. So many people get to laugh and hang out for their 18th birthdays. I was in New Jersey for a funeral.

I still think back on that period often. I find myself thinking that if only I'd put more energy into inviting Tracey to my graduation, she'd still be here. Tracey had moved to New Jersey slightly before that, and I'd called one day to check on her. Her mother told me that she was in Georgia, to my surprise. I called the number she gave me and I left a message for Tracey to call me back. I never heard back from her. My graduation was a few weeks later. I get so angry at myself because all I can think is that I was chasing after my ignorant boyfriend, David, who I hate now. I was so busy worrying about him and his foolishness that I didn't even put any real effort into inviting Tracey to my graduation. And now she's gone. If only I'd called more. Even one more time, she might still be here. To explain my thoughts, Tracey died after she and her boyfriend were staying in a motel and they got into an argument. He choked her and left her. She died that night/morning. If only I'd called her, we probably would have arranged for her to stay the night at my house and she'd still be here. She would have lived to watch her daughter grow up. But instead Tracey's gone because I didn't think....

I went to my cousin Ali's college graduation a year after mine. I was a wreck. I cried the whole time. Something about seeing those caps and gowns took me back to that day. After that, I swore that I'd never attend another graduation. I feel that it's unfair for me to ruin someone else's day with my own issues. I was surprised my mother even let me skip my little sister's graduation.

On the way home from my friend's home after we discussed her graduation, for the first time ever, I thought I might be okay with graduations again. But then I relived that day all over again. As I drove home tears ran down my face as I asked myself for the millionth time why I didn't try one more time to call Tracey.

No, I won't be attending her graduation.

Tough Days

Every time I'm given the info for another child for me to go see, I get excited. I'm so in love with my job, that I honestly can't imagine myself doing anything else. What I do truly doesn't feel like work. But then sometimes I'm faced with situations that make me question the whole damned thing.

The other day I was given a girl's info. She was between the ages of 5 and 7 (remember, I can't give identifying details). I read there had been issues in her home. I planned a good day for me to stop in and see her. I couldn't quite find the street, so I called a girlfriend that told me where it was. I've lived in Atlanta my whole life and I don't scare easily. However that was only the second time in my life that I've been scared in an area. I've walked up and down Bankhead, Candler Rd, and Old National Hwy on numerous occasions with no problems, but I was so freaking scared as I drove down this street. My friend accurately described the area when she called it "lawless." I saw so many people that were walking ghosts. They had no spirits and no souls, they walked the streets, darting out, as if a 4,000 pound vehicle hitting them would be the least of their problems. I tried my best to play it cool, but driving slowly through that neighborhood was certainly not what I wanted to do. I cursed to myself when I had to make a u-turn in front of everyone, announcing to the world that I was not only fresh blood, I was lost fresh blood. I quickly called the mother of the child I was to meet with and thankfully got her to tell me exactly where she was located.

Once I made it to the home, I was amazed at the condition of it. Honestly, if it hadn't been occupied, I'm sure it would have been deemed unfit for residency and torn down. My plan was initially to meet with the little girl and her mother, but their home was in such a sad state that I instead offered to take them to McDonald's. The mother declined, but she told me that I could take her child instead, so off we went.

There was a McDonald's in the area, but I decided to venture out to another one. I couldn't bear to be out there any longer than I had to. When we got to McDonald's my little counterpart quickly became a favorite to everyone there. She was so friendly and outgoing. The workers there complimented her and she talked to them with ease. She easily answered my questions about school and her family life. It was clear that despite living in such immense poverty, she was raised in so much love. I knew I had to eventually embrace the topic, but I really didn't want to. I didn't want to bring it up, when she was so happy. But I did. I had to. I had a job to do.

I asked her to tell me what happened. And she described how a young male friend of the family molested her in her sleep. One thing that I know I'll never forget is that when I asked her how it made her feel, the only word she said was "guilty." She was so young to know such a heavy word, and to now have to attach such a heavy word to such a terrible situation was just wrong.
I was absolutely horrified. As a professional, I knew to remain brave and strong for the little girl. I praised her for being brave enough to tell her mother and I assured her that she did absolutely nothing wrong. Amazingly, as we discussed it, she didn't withdraw. She didn't say she'd had any bad dreams about it, and she simply tries not to think about it. We agreed to call him another word other than his name, because she didn't like to say it. After she'd bounced around McDonald's for an hour, I decided it was time to take her home. I hugged her goodbye and I promised her that we would go out again. I bid goodbye to the family and left.

I got into my car and threw down my purse. I started the engine and I rode to the the traffic light that led out of the area. I stopped at the red light. And I cried like a baby. I sobbed so heavily. She was so brave and so little and he took her innocence. Yet she managed to smile and laugh. No one would ever think she'd been violated in the worst way. As a woman and as a mother I was outraged at what happened to her. I cried big heavy tears until my body was exhausted.

I might seem tough, but I'm only a woman.

Thirty PLUS!!

So it is true, in a couple of months, I will reach the ripe old age of thirty. I'm pretty geeked about it too. I thought I'd hate being this age, but I love it. Needless to say, there are going to be a couple of dope parties to commemorate the occasion, but that's for another post.
Moving on, I got paid yesterday, so I decided to buy myself a few cute things to wear to work. Granted, I can wear whatever I want for work (WOOHOO!!) but I still want to dress a little business casual (except for when we hit the playground). I hit Macy's first and of course I couldn't find any pants to fit my awkward shape, but I did find a shirt that I'd liked that was on sale for $25. Man, that number stuck with me. Twenty-five dollars isn't a lot of money at all for a shirt, but I'm still used to getting all of my clothes from the super sale rack. You know, like $8 for a GAP shirt. Twenty-five dollars for a shirt just seemed so steep. However, I'm trying to buy clothes that reflect my age (sad to admit, I still dress like a hippy, and only one year ago did I stop buying clothes from the juniors section). I checked GAP after Macy's, and GAP continued to suck the same way it has for the last 3 years (what the hell is going on with that store anyway?) I didn't really feel like combing the mall anymore, so I hit up my tried and true, Target. I found a few nice shirts and a couple of pairs of capris, perfect for work. Needless to say, my capris were on sale.
The reason I was so stuck on the cost of my $25 shirt was that a while ago, on the radio, I heard the hosts talking about something they'd read online about things that a woman should stop doing by the time she was thirty. One of the things that stuck with me was that she should stop being cheap. And I totally agree. Now not being cheap doesn't mean that you blow your money as soon as you get it, it means that you learn to appreciate the finer things. Four-dollar wine is no longer the norm (unless you get a good bottle on a great steal). It means that you buy real furniture. It means that you can love name brands, even if you only come across it at a major bargain. It means that if someone asks you for your favorite restaurant, you don't name one that has a value meal.
It actually amazed me how many of those things I totally agreed with. And I'm proud to say that I'm so over most of those things (although my daddy will always be my daddy, list or no list!) So anyway, I got online and I found two lists of where a woman should be when she reaches 30.

30 THINGS EVERY WOMAN SHOULD HAVE
and SHOULD KNOW BY THE TIME SHE'S 30

BY 30, YOU SHOULD HAVE:

1. One old boyfriend you can imagine going back to and one who reminds you of how far you've come.
2. A decent piece of furniture not previously owned by anyone else in your family.
3. Something perfect to wear if the employer or man of your dreams wants to see you in an hour.
4. A purse, a suitcase and an umbrella you're not ashamed to be seen carrying.
5. A youth you're content to move beyond.
6. A past juicy enough that you're looking to forward to retelling it in your old age.
7. The realization that you are actually going to have an old age—and some money set aside to help fund it.
8. An e-mail address, a voice mailbox and a bank account—all of which nobody has access to but you.
9. A résume that is not even the slightest bit padded.
10. One friend who always makes you laugh and one who lets you cry.
11. A set of screwdrivers, a cordless drill and a black lace bra.
12. Something ridiculously expensive that you bought for yourself, just because you deserve it.
13. The belief that you deserve it.
14. A skin-care regimen, an exercise routine and a plan for dealing with those few other facets of life that don't get better after 30.
15. A solid start on a satisfying career, a satisfying relationship and all those other facets of life that do get better.


BY 30, YOU SHOULD KNOW:

1. How to fall in love without losing yourself.
2. How you feel about having kids.
3. How to quit a job, break up with a man and confront a friend without ruining the friendship.
4. When to try harder and when to walk away.
5. How to kiss in a way that communicates perfectly what you would and wouldn't like to happen next.
6. The names of: the secretary of state, your great-grandmother and the best tailor in town.
7. How to live alone, even if you don't like to.
8. How to take control of your own birthday.
9. That you can't change the length of your calves, the width of your hips or the nature of your parents.
10. That your childhood may not have been perfect, but it's over.
11. What you would and wouldn't do for money or love.
12. That nobody gets away with smoking, drinking, doing drugs or not flossing for very long.
13. Who you can trust, who you can't and why you shouldn't take it personally.
14. Not to apologize for something that isn't your fault.
15. Why they say life begins at 30.

30 Things Every Woman Should Quit Doing By 30

1. Buying clothes from the junior section.
2. Forgetting her parents’ birthdays.
3. Making out with her BFFs at bars for attention.
4. Making out with her boyfriend at bars for attention.
5. Filling her bed with stuffed animals (really, even one is too many).
6. Carrying a torch for anyone she hasn’t seen in the last five years.
7. Rebelling against her parents for the sake of rebelling against her parents.
8. Declaring an entire gender “all jerks.”
9. Holding a grudge against anyone who wronged her in high school.
10. Skipping regular gyno exams.
11. Going to bed without washing and moisturizing her face.
12. Being “that person” who had a bit too much to drink at the office party.
13. Crushing on Justin Bieber.
14. Thinking she’s got it all figured out.
15. Calling her father “daddy.”
16. Engaging in sibling rivalry.
17. Trying to get by on her looks.
18. Living paycheck to paycheck.
19. Expecting a man/knight in shining armor to swoop in and save her.
20. Aimlessly jumping from job to job.
21. Using MySpace to pick up guys.
22. Expecting a man to do all the wooing.
23. Wishing she had someone else’s life.
24. Expecting everyone to drop everything because it’s her birthday ...
25. ... or because her “boyfriend” of two weeks dumped her.
26. Measuring her self-worth by a number on the scale.
27. Being cheap.
28. Quitting a job without having a new one lined up first (especially in this economy!).
29. Blaming her mother for all her issues.
30. Romanticizing her 20s.

So anyway, according to these lists, I'm doing a-okay with a $25 shirt. And it looks damned good on me too!

Disappointment

Have you ever wanted something really, really bad? Has something ever been so close to you that you could taste and smell it? But then it's ripped away from you before you can fully enjoy it?
I had that, and now I feel- empty.
I wanted it so badly, but now I'm back to my plain existence. And it's so unfair, because I truly deserve it. Life put up a roadblock that I had nothing to do with. Just a circumstance that was small enough not to matter, yet big enough to keep me away from what I deserved. Sometimes I wonder if my life is supposed to be one set of disappointments after another.
It sure seems like it.

The Saga of Him Pt. 2

So anyway, a while back, I blogged about Him. And I blogged about how much I dig Him and how if things had been a bit different He and I would possibly be We. Well to update Us, a while ago I ran into Him unexpectedly a few weeks ago. His car broke down and he needed a ride home so I offered Him one.

I absolutely love to drive and I didn't want our short visit to end, so I asked if he wanted to continue to ride around and he replied yes. During our ride we talked about relationships and dating and I wanted so badly to look him in his eye and let him know how much he made my heart flutter, but truthfully I was scared. We ended up at one of my favorite parts of the city and we walked around. Before we knew it, we'd been talking for two hours. I didn't want our time to end. He asked how I felt about Him. I confessed that I'm madly attracted to Him, and he admitted to feeling the same way about me. I even admitted that I'd blogged about Him. It's crazy to go from your teens where no one likes you back, to being a woman that actually gets the guy. Anyway, he asked if I'd tell Pookie that we were hanging out. I told Him no. I wanted so badly to kiss Him. I wanted to embrace Him. I wanted to make Him feel as special as he made me feel. We didn't kiss.

We got back in the car and rode around some more. Stevie Wonder played in the background.

"All is fair in love,

Love's a crazy game."

We went back to his place. I sat on the couch. I wanted to. I really wanted to. I knew that he wanted it, but he was a complete gentleman and he didn't remotely force or try anything. After a few minutes, I left. He walked me out to the car and hugged me.

I've been thinking about Him ever since. Sometimes I think that I should just go over there again and do it. Especially days like today. Truth be told, I haven't felt like this about a guy since Pookie and I first got together. It's not often that a person meets someone that has them head over heels like this. It's such a rare feeling that all I can do is bask in the afterglow of our encounter.

I've been on cloud 9 ever since. I can't stop thinking about Him. Yesterday I hung out at the playground with some of the kids I work with, and my mind wandered off to Him and our night together. One of the kids said to me "what are you smiling about?"

Perhaps in about 20 years, she'll understand.