The Epic Summer of 2012

(This is Dashill Smith. He's a well-known trumpet player in Atlanta. He played with Roy Ayers the night before. Anyway, he fell asleep next to us at the park and I decided to take this pic of him to show how sweet this summer will be for me.)

Last Sunday night, I was kind of bored and restless so I hit up a girlfriend of mine named Malenda that I'd met a while ago from another friend. She and I had become Facebook friends and we'd even talked on the phone a few times. I wanted to do Starbucks so I hit her and she agreed to roll. We got there kind of late and stayed even later. As the night wore on, I decided that we should drive through the city. From there I decided to stop in at Apache, a little spot in the city that has hosted some of today's hottest artists. Jill Scott was there in her early days, along with India. Aarie, and Malcolm Jamaal Warner. One of my favorite shows there was a very under promoted show that featured Eric Roberson and Raheem Devaughn. I met both guys that night and it was awesome to be in the room with only 20 other people while such fantastic talent on the stage. Anyway, the spot also host acts from local top artists and I remember seeing Sky there several times before along with a bunch of other friends.

When I rolled up with Malenda, I was surprised to see a few of my old homies out front. I saw Malachi (better known for his song "Hustlin' Boy"), my friend Kimani, who used to host their poetry nights, and a poet named Abyss. I started to feel like I was at home. I walked on inside and saw a couple more old friends. I started to really miss that place. I hadn't been there in nearly 3 years. Truthfully, I think I'd just missed that point in my life.

Kimani then started talking about rolling through a spot called Sound Table, so Malenda and I hit there next. Inside I saw a few more people I knew.

It was around that point that I decided that as I deal with my separation from Pookie, I need to reemerge myself into my old social life. I want to go out and have a ball. I want  surround myself with beautiful and talented people again. I want to have more incredible stories to tell.

This weekend is already showing how awesome my summer will be. I spent Saturday night with a fantastic man that I sometimes make the acquaintance of, followed by me bailing a good friend out of jail. Sunday night was me hanging at the Jazz Fest with friends. I also managed to make a new friend who I think will be an outstanding addition to my collection of besties. She has a son my child's age and we've made some of the same dating mistakes. She's mad cool and I'm planning to get her and some of my other chicks together soon for food and fun at Daisy's.

So yeah, this summer will be banging. It's not going to be a summer of chasing down men. It's going to be a summer of enjoying being single and getting to know and love myself all over again. Lucky me.

The Disconect: Another Former Potential Love Lost

Today I was on the phone with a new friend of mine as he told me about some problems he had at his job. I asked about the location and he told me that it was a Home Depot that is located near my former apartment. I immediately asked him about Musa (pronounced Moos-a), a friend of mine from way back when, that I'd adored.

Actually, I more than adored Musa. I saw him as the man that I would and should be with if the planets aligned properly. He was tall, good looking, mannerly, personable, and he had a smile that could brighten my darkest days. I got to know him as I lived in the area. I had a routine hobby of painting my apartment.

 Often when I'd get bored or restless, I run to Home Depot where I'd see Musa, in his white kufi (he was a devout Muslim). He'd greet me with that fantastic smile and ask how I was. We'd talk about our lives as he mixed my paint. I always felt so comfortable with him. It was like I'd known him for ages. The problem was that he was married (quite a common theme for me, as you sadly see). Sometimes I'd offer to let him come to my apartment just to see the fantastic paint jobs that I was accomplishing and he always declined. I figured that his faith kept him from being in close proximity alone with me so I respectfully accepted his decision to stay away.

I hadn't seen him in years, but about a year ago, I went into the Home Depot where I saw him. I immediately melted when I saw that bright white smile. We caught up since I'd had my son. He told me that he'd divorced his previous wife because she was "too in the world" and had since gotten a wife that was much more his speed. I told him that I was glad that he'd found happiness, but a small part of me was sad that I'd again missed the chance to see where things could go with him.

The last time I was in that Home Depot, unfortunately Musa wasn't there. I got my paint and went about my way. That was sometime in February. I was glad that my friend worked there and I was ready to pick his brain about the man I'd forever remember as an incredible person. What my friend said shocked me. Apparently Musa is currently in jail. Not just for something small. He was accused of jumping into a woman's car and holding a knife to her neck, and ordered her to drive. She didn't and some people came to her aid and he ran away.

I immediately told my friend "I don't believe it." I'm no dummy when it comes to how many Blacks happen to "look alike" and end up in prison for crimes they didn't commit. I shook my head while on the phone and said that I could and would not believe that it was Musa. It simply had to be someone else. Musa wouldn't do such a thing. He was too calm. Too patient. He damn near carried a halo. This is the same man that wouldn't even come to my apartment to see the painting because an unmarried man and woman shouldn't be alone together. I know my Musa, and it couldn't be him.

My friend told me to look up Musa Muhammad and Hobby Lobby. I clicked on the first link I found.

The first thing I noticed were his eyes. Those weren't the eyes of Musa. Sure, it was undeniably his face. But his eyes were bare. Those weren't the same eyes that I talked to at length. They weren't the same eyes that encouraged me to work things out with my son's father. They weren't the same eyes that smiled at me and greeted me as I painted my apartment wall for the fourth time. That couldn't be my Musa.

Then I noticed his smile. I mean with serious allegations like that, who the hell smiles? Even his smile was blank and even sinister. Again, this wasn't my friend. Then I clicked on the video link.



I couldn't believe it. One of the good Samaritans chased him down and held him until police arrived. Oh. My. God. How did this happen? The therapist in me looked for answers. Maybe he was bipolar or schizophrenic. I'm not sure. They said he also had a violent past. The eerie part is that he had rubber gloves and several zip ties on him. Musa planned to do some serious damage. The size of the butcher knife was insane. How could my Musa do this? Actually, my Musa didn't but that Musa did. It was so strange to hear the reporter refer to him as "the guy" as if he's just some random dude. But I guess, to the people that matter at this point, he really is just "that guy."

I'm so exceptionally grateful that the woman and her grandchild were okay. Although, in my line of work, I know that she'll probably have nightmares about what-could-have-been for the rest of her life.

I'd like to reach out to Musa. I'm damned sure not going to try to marry the dude or anything, but I need to look in his eyes just one more time. I'd like to visit him if he'll let me. There was a psychotic break. Don't get me wrong, he should not have did what he did and he damn sure needs to be locked away. But something inside of me needs to know that my Musa is still somewhere in there. Damn, Musa. Damn.

The Waiting Continues

I went out with a guy friend of mine yesterday. Actually, I guess I'll start at the beginning. I have known him for a few years and we ran into each other a few days ago. We flirted a little and exchanged numbers. As I emerge into the whole dating scene, I honestly struggle with the knowledge that I need to be alone and get my head together, versus my need and want to be held.

I've got a "friend" who I'll call Del. I met him a little under a year ago and he and I often cuddle, but the only problem is that well, he's a raging asshole. I love him and I'm familiar with him because I'm well-versed in dealing with assholes. But that doesn't mean that I don't want more from him. So while I cuddle with Del at times, I still know that he ain't the one. While there are those that tell me to leave Del alone, as I know I should, until I get a permanent replacement, Del is the man I get my emotional fix from. Some may look at my dating an asshole as a sign that I haven't learned shit from my previous experiences. I on the other hand consider it a huge step in the right direction, because I know that he's a dickhead and I'll use him for cuddling and comfort, just as he uses me for sex and to have his ego boosted. I guess I sound like a nut, but I've always been the kind of girl that wants to deal in the reality. The reality of our situation is that he's an asshole, but the sex is good and I like to cuddle. So until I find what I'm really looking for, I'll deal with his punk ass.

Which brings me back to my friend. We flirted more via text and agreed to meet up yesterday. He got there and we began to discuss some of our philosophies on life and it became painfully clear quite early that I was a tad more moderate on some things than he is. While I respect anyone's right to believe what they want, I know that if there is no basic foundation on somethings, its hard to build. We enjoyed our time, but I knew we'd never be. It sucks too, because I've known him long enough to know that he's a fantastic person. I guess he's just not the right man for me. *sigh* Back to the drawing board.

One of my best girlfriends is saying that she is officially "bitter" and has given up on the prospect of love. I kind of wish I could say the same, but I can't. Perhaps its my arrogance that does it, but when I look at myself I can't help but to think that I'm pretty, smart, outgoing, hilarious, and intelligent. There is no reason in hell for me to be single. But I am. So I just have to have faith that when the Universe sees it fit, it will deliver me the man of my dreams. Or at lease something close to it.

When Keeping it Real Goes Wrong

I've got a friend I'll call Earnest. I'd seen Earnest around the poetry scene here in Atlanta for a while now, and I'd always thought he was cute in passing, but I didn't actually get to know him until he started casually dating a friend of mine. Eventually things fizzled for the two of them and he showed interest in me. My friend assured me she didn't mind if we dated. I wasn't quite sure how I felt about him but he and I became friends and continued to regularly talk on the phone.

He was always so doting and loving. He really knew how to make a girl feel like the center of the universe. Whenever I was sick, he'd volunteer to come lay with me. He'd always offer me TLC. He was never more than a phone call away. Truthfully, there were a few conversations with myself where I asked if he was someone I could seriously take things to another level with.

There were two things that kept me from trying to move forward with him. While my friend dated him, she remarked how he always made her feel like a princess, but she hated that she was well into her career, while he seemed to not have much of one. Sure, he had and has a job, but there's no progression. Whenever she imagined babies and a husband, she felt it hard to be supported or even on an equal level with a starving artist. He often spoke of how one day he could possibly sell big and become a millionaire. My friend being a bit of a realist wasn't impressed with the prospects. Then there was also the fact that she'd rejected him. I hated the idea of dating a guy that my friend didn't feel worthy of her. I felt like I'd be lapping up her leftovers.

Once he showed interest in me, I had a hard time looking at him seriously. I often wondered if my friend's opinion of him somehow biased me, but regardless, it was what it was. I couldn't help but to agree with her assessment of him. Granted I'm still broke myself, but I've been blessed enough to have a child with a man that always saw to it that his family was taken care of. I'd hate to turn around and then have another child with a man that wasn't capable of doing at least the same.

Earnest and I hung out the other day and I found myself getting comfortable with him. Very comfortable. I guess in my comfort I found it necessary to come clean with him. I felt that he deserved to know what kept him from being able to jump that final hurdle. Some would call my confession to him arrogance. I felt that I would be doing him a favor. Regardless, I spoke.

I looked at him and said "do you know what keeps you from being marriage material?" He listed some physical traits (that I'd actually found quite attractive) and I laughed that no, those weren't it. Then I got serious, looked at him and said that he lacked the financial resources to move forward. His laughing demeanor changed. He wasn't cold or mean, but it was clear that he didn't agree with what I'd said. He stated "how do you know I won't have a lot of money? I could go out tomorrow and sell some art and make a million dollars." I had to bite my tongue to not mention well intentioned things such as the chances of him doing such were slim and that he was already in his late 30's. There were a few other things that could have been given as a retort, but there was no way to say them without sounding shitty, snobby and condescending, so I remained silent.

I could tell immediately that my well intentioned information hadn't been received the way I'd hoped. He then said "that's why white women get good men. They see potential in men and hold on through the bad stuff and they're able to reap the rewards in the end." Again, I wanted to mention his age (typically when women date for "potential" it’s in their late teens or early 20's). Also, truthfully, I know plenty of black women that have dated broke ass dudes, hoping that one day he'd get his shit together and do right by them. Hell, I stayed with my (then) broke high school sweetheart and helped support his ass thru school, only to be shitted on when he was well-employed.

I was kind of shocked at how new this information seemed to him. I asked if any woman had ever shared that info with him before. He gave the straight answer of "no." He was in his late 30's and dated plenty of women, yet no one thought to tell him straight up that his lack of financial resources was an issue. I found myself thinking that it was more of an issue of women thinking it, but not wanting to hurt his feelings by sharing it, so they'd rather leave him alone than to say what needed to be said.


I even tried to lessen the blow by explaining to him that I too had been rejected by men for lack of financial stability. I agreed that it did sting immensely and that I too felt that although I did not have it all in terms of money, I made up for it in other qualities. But eventually I had to take a look at myself, and after rejecting another man who had even less than I, I saw that the men that told me I was too broke to marry may have been onto something. Since then I’ve decided to quit dicking around and enter grad school already. Earnest didn’t seem to care.

There was an awkward silence. He said he had some things to do and that he was ready to go home. We've only talked a little since then. I can't say that I feel bad because I told him the truth. Lord knows that women can deal with a lot of shit, but by a certain point in our lives, we need stability. While he offered all of the emotional stability in the world, financially, he could never support a family where he is now. I'd hoped he'd take my words and hear my intention. He didn't.

I later told my friend about it and she said that she’d once told him that his “nest wasn’t ready” but I’m assuming those words fell on deaf ears. Perhaps he refused to hear her, or he just didn’t understand what she meant. Regardless, she stated that she did tell him the deal.

 I don't regret telling him. I just wish he'd heard my underlying message instead of an insult. And I agree, he has all of the potential in the world to make a lot of money. There are a few things that he's quite skilled in and he's a freaking genius. He reads like a bandit and could easily start an empire of how-to dvd's and Youtube videos. And I honestly hope he does all of those things and more. I hope he eventually has a wife and they have a bunch of beautiful brown babies and that he raises those kids to be fantastic contributions to society. Because I know that Earnest can do it. But love don't pay the bills.

Enjoying the Single Life and Lessons Learned

So with each day that passes, I settle more into singlehood. I remember a phone conversation I had with a girlfriend of mine where she and I caught up after a few months of being distant and explaining to her how much I enjoy being alone, as I painted my new apartment. Strangely, that was the moment where it occurred to me how much I really do love being single.

As I painted my wall a lovely shade of blue/grey I thought about how Pookie would never have let me paint. He would never have let me decorate or put my splash of color everywhere. He wouldn't have let me get the fish tank, and he damn sure wouldn't have let me get my cat, Drunky. I recently purchased my first solo bed, which is a lovely queen sized number that I purchased from Ikea. Strangely, it seems too big sometimes, but I love my bed. I love my bedroom. I love making solo decisions in my home.

So recently I had to stop in Home Depot to get more paint. I saw a man behind the counter. He was hot. Tall, dimples, well dressed, nice haircut. He turned around and nodded at me. I mouthed hello to him. We chatted casually and he told me his work hours and told me to come back and see him. I did. Of course I made sure that I wore make up and that my hair looked great. My bestie, Portia watched Pumpkin as I chatted up the stranger.

I remarked on how well dressed he was. He smiled and said that his daddy was a hustler and taught him to always look his best. He complemented my look and called me pretty. He told me his sign. I told him that I am a Gemini. I explained that as a woman and lover, I make sure to give my all to those that I love. Then he finished my sentence and explained that I go apeshit when someone does me wrong. We talked about child support and cops and I instinctively knew that he hated cops. He asked how I knew. I shrugged. It was like I'd known him forever. That's when I knew to ask him. I said "are you married?" and he casually responded with "yes." It was so casual.  Even too casual. Married. Married? Damn. I think my balloon visually popped.

He asked if I was that upset about him being married. I didn't want to stroke his ego so I told him that no, I was just in thought about something else. Then he pulled out the pic of her and the kids. Naturally, she looked like a worn down housewife. So there was man that would look great on my arm that I could see myself bedding and fucking until the cows came home, but he happens to be married. He told me that his being married didn't have to mean that we couldn't do our thing. He said that we could be "friends." I explained to him that the last time I was "friends" with a married man, my kid was conceived and that I didn't want to go down that road again. I told him that I'm tired of sharing men and that I want to be a man's one and only. He responded that he understood and respected my desires.

That was a few days ago and truthfully, I do still think of him. Not him so much him, but the feeling I had before I learned he was married. That feeling of melting and giggling and sharing a moment with one other person. I just don't want to share those moments or a man with a third party.

So yeah, I am absolutely enjoying being single. The only men I'll open myself to are men that I feel a special connection to and men that are readily available to me. In the meantime, I'm loving who I am and where I'm at. Because I'm fucking awesome.

Enough Friends

So I’ve made the foray into dating again. It’s been slow, but gradual. I don’t think I’m ready for anything serious, but I’d like someone around to at least cuddle with. There have been a few moderately promising interactions, but they’ve all been a bust. I’ve been so hesitant and nervous to date that it takes me forever and a day to decide if a guy is someone that I should begin to trust. And then, it seems to never fail, he does or says something stupid that leads me back to the drawing board.

The good thing is that I’m okay with it this time around. I guess its because I’ve been through the ringer so much that I’m hesitant to go falling in love anyway. For example, there is Eddie, a guy that I met at my homie’s party this summer. He was the deejay at the party and we took well to each other early on. I asked my friend if he was cool and my friend said that he couldn’t think of a single bad thing to say about Eddie. I wanted to pursue things then, but I was still living with Pookie and didn’t want to ruin things with him buy going for him when I wasn’t mentally or physically able to. Eddie and I stayed in touch with the occasional Facebook message about once a month, but I remained distant.

Once I was into my own place I hit him up and asked if he’d like to get together one day. We ended up getting sushi and had a pretty good time. We talked about music, kids, the past, the future, the whole bit.

A week afterward, he and I agreed to meet up at a club we both frequent to see our mutual friend. A girlfriend of mine happened to fall through after a horrible date she’d just been on. She was clearly pissed off and I tried my best to be there for her as she and I are both reentering the dating scene at the same time. My friend Sky joked with her about her date, as did I. But Eddie didn’t. As a matter of fact, he acted irritated every time she came around. Granted, my friend can come across as spoiled, but she’s a good friend of mine and I felt that the very least I could do was to listen to her and engage her as well. Hell, Eddie could have done the same damned thing.

Later, the communication that he and I had became more and more distant. I don’t know what happened, but I don’t really care. I tried a few times to text him and see how things were going and his responses got shorter and his text messages took longer and longer to get back to me. Old Malika would have tried hard to maintain contact with him and at least stay friends. But after another idiot that pissed me off recently made me realize that there isn’t much point in staying friends with everyone I come across. Truthfully, I know a lot of people and don’t feel the need to collect more.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again- I’ve got enough friends. It’s true. Two of my best friends are women I’ve hung out with since middle school, nearly 20 years ago. So, this time around, there is no more hanging on for whatever reason. Simply put, I’ve got enough of my own problems, no need to hang on to someone elses’.

Energy

So I said before that I've been feeling pretty good as of late. It's true. I feel lite, and energized. I spent part of yesterday trying to find out exactly why I feel so great. Part of me was saying that I shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth, that I should just appreciate how awesome things are, but a part of me also wanted to know what caused my happiness so that I could keep it going. The only thing I could attribute it to was the men in my life or lack thereof. I mean, yeah, Pookie is still around, but since I got my own place, he and I don't deal with eachother nearly as much, which can be kind of a good thing because he can be a tad negative. He's the kind of man that feels that if he's having a bad day, it would be utterly foolish for someone else to have a good day. I can't count how many of my days he's ruined.

The last time we got into an argument at my home, I asked him to leave and he did. It felt wonderful. I'm still saving to get some furniture at my new crib, but so far, what little bit I have is working wonderfully. This is the first time in so long where I feel that my home is my sanctuary. I don't have to worry about people that I don't like or don't trust in my  home. I can look a mofo in the eyes and tell them to leave. This is incredible.

So anyway, I'm looking and feeling great. My hair is looking fantastic, which is all a woman can ask for. But yeah, I narrowed my newfound feelings of contentment to getting the negative people out of my life. No energy vampires are sucking me dry. I'm opening myself to so many different experiences and ideas. Its crazy, but I seriously attribute this to lack of a love interest. Men appear to bring about so much worry that now that I'm free of one, I've got no concerns other than myself and my son, which appear to be pretty easy to manage when there is not extra b.s. to worry about. I'm even supposed to have a friend who is a yoga master come through and help me stretch and unwind a little more.

I can't believe that I spent so much of my life stressed out and worried about men when this kind of happiness and peace awaited me on the other side of a penis. I'm sure that eventually there will be some fantastic man in my life, but for now things are great and I'll do anything to keep it this way.

Starting Over (again)

So my last post was about a guy that I was seeing that was a repeat offender douchebag. After him doing that shit for the last time, I've decided that I'm not bringing his ass into the new year with me so I deleted that post and I'm starting over yet again. There is another guy that I'm seeing and I kind of like him, but I'm tired of focusing on men.

I want to spend the new year focused more on myself and my goals. Pookie and I spent a portion of New Year's together and although we didn't originally intend to but we really got to talk about a lot of our issues and get to a good place. He offered me a hug today as I sat back pissed at Douchebaggy McDouchebagerton. Its cool. I'm not crying, just irritated as hell. Thank God I'm pretty, otherwise I'd feel kinda bad right now ;)

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year

Man, I've been wanting to blog for a while now, but I'm up to three jobs now so writing tends to fall between the cracks. My life has changed a lot in 6 months. For starters, Fred is still in LA and I haven't seen him since. He may be coming back to visit Atlanta soon, but for now, we remain distant friends.

The most major change is having my own spot. It feels good to finally have my own place. No worries about who leave what where (although I've got my nephew staying with me and I feel bad about riding his butt to make sure that my place doesn't fall to crap). I wasn't always the neatest child, so I'm trying hard to make sure that this place serves as proof that I'm not a total slob and that I'm able to have a home that isn't covered in filth. So far, so good.

Pookie and I are doing pretty well. He's got a chick or two and I'm at the point where I seriously, truly, don't care. It took a while to get to this point, but it was aided along by me falling for another man that I'll call Chris. I met Chris at a friend's party this summer. I fell hard for him. And like other men that I've fallen hardest for, he was a total jerk 50% of the time. But still, I managed to adore that other 50%. When he wants to be, Chris is funny, intelligent, and can make you feel like the center of the universe. Other times he's cheap, childish and manipulative. Remind me of anyone? Damn right it does. We broke things off for a while. I'm glad for that break because it allowed me to fall back and see him for who and what he really is. We still deal with eachother at times, but this time around I'm only giving what I'm getting. I know that he misses the old me that adored him and cherished him but I've wasted too much of my life on men that don't give me what I deserve. I'm actually thankful for my ex David at this point, because Chris reminds me a lot of him. So although my heart is partly in it, I know to keep my distance and walk away if I need to.

Also I haven't slept with him lately. The sex with him was pretty good, but he made a promise to treat me the first night we got together, which he hasn't done yet. So I'm refusing to sleep with him until he comes through. He's pissed to know that he gets no more of the good stuff until I get something in return, but I'm past the point of caring. Truthfully, I'm not really feeling anyone right now. I met a guy a few weeks ago and it was nice to hear him call me pretty and all, but I told myself that if he was serious, he'd call me. He didn't. I haven't lost a wink of sleep.

Like I said, Pookie and I are cool, but I'm feeling us moving past one another. I'm strangely okay with that. For the first time in my life, I really, truly, honestly, want to be alone. I see attractive men often and I'm happy with a simple flirt before I move on with my day. I feel so light and free to not be worried about men and their lies and whatnot. For the first time, I'm free to focus on the most important people in my life - me and my son. This feels GOOD.

Although I was leaning toward grad school, I've since decided against it. I'm considering going to vocational school for something else though. I've told myself that I've got to have a more firm grip on my career by my birthday this year, in June. I've got a pretty good idea of what I want to do, so fingers crossed.

Otherwise, things are pretty good over on my end. Dare I say, they're great. I'm happier and more at peace than ever before. Yay me.

p.s. I know I said 6 months ago that I'd start writing before, but I mean it this time. For real, I want to start blogging again. I miss this. I own this.

It's Been a While

Man, has it really been 3 months since I've blogged? Gosh, time really flies. Things are pretty good. I've thought long and hard about and I've decided that it would be best if Pookie and I parted ways. In November, I don't know where I'll be living, but my son and I will be on our own for the first time in 4 years. I'm actually pretty excited about it.

I've also started dating a little. I forgot how shitty the dating scene is. Fred and I are no longer at it. We're really good friends actually. He's in LA, doing his thing. I miss him. I hope he's back by next weekend to celebrate my birthday with me. I spend a lot of my time with Daisy and Portia although my other besties Courtney and Nika are never too far away.

I'm in a strange state of figuring myself out. I gained back some of the weight I'd lost which means I gotta haul ass that much more. The awesome thing is that jogging is pretty easy now and my gym is across the street so I've just got to make it more of a priority. I guess I'm in a strange state of being. I've been a social worker for a year and a half now and to say that I'm burned out would be the ultimate understatement. I'm ready for an office job where I get home and I don't have to worry about notes or get calls about the issues people have. I care about the kids and families I work with, but the paperwork is kicking my ass and I'm starting to feel like I've got my own problems, so I'm tired of trying to be superwoman to everyone else.

Yeah, no real theme other than updating the world. Sorry to have been gone so long. I promise I'll do better. I missed writing.

Malika

Malika, the Slutty Prude

So lately I've fallen in love with Rihanna's song "S&M". I whip my hair and sensually rub my hands up and down my body as I dance around to it and feel every syllable of the lyrics. I hop my jiggly ass all over the room and swish my locks as I imagine karaoking to the song and seducing some random hottie.  I had the pleasure of listening to one of my kids tell me what a slut Rihanna is for the song. In the meantime, I'd been wrestling with the idea of adding it to my list of theme songs and I've since made it the first in my jogging playlist on my iPod.

Today I told my bestie about a crush I've developed on a coworker. Although I have no plans to do anything with him, he's still a total babe and someone I enjoy drooling over to my friends. I told bestie how hot the guy is and how since I've been bumping S&M like there's no tomorrow. Somehow I ended up telling her a story about how a few years back I walked up on some gay coworkers that had a conversation. I naively asked what they were discussing, only to be told "lube." I quickly walked my ass away and refused to look back. I ran away from that discussion like white suburbanites run away from an influx of black and Mexican neighbors. My bestie then remarked how crazy it is that I happen to be a total slut while being a total prude.

For a moment I thought, "I'm not a slut." But then, I thought about it, and I just shrugged. I mean, I'm not a "slut." I don't have sex with random guys. Most of the men I've been with, if we weren't dating, we were at least good friends and they were (mostly) polite and gentlemen. But then my bestie reminded me of my tendency to kiss "random" guys, which is what led to the slut moniker. She's right. I totally like kissing. If I talk to a guy and he's cute and I'm feeling it, I'll probably kiss him and not think much of it. The fact that I'm okay being labeled a slut in itself says that I'm a bit too comfortable with my sexuality.

I realized that my bestie Daisy has been with me and seen me kiss a total of three different guys. In my defense though, one of those guys was during a game of Truth or Dare. The other was a guy that we'd met that happened to be a friend of my former crush Kelsy Davis. After a show of Kelsy's, we went back a friend's loft, the guy and I shared a chair and I leaned over and planted on one him. Another time, we were at her home and I grabbed another guy on the way out and planted one on him. In my defense though, I'd known him for a long time, so I don't feel like that kiss counted, but whatever.

Another time I was out with my friend Nicole and were at the famous MJQ. I'd known one of the bouncers for a while and for some reason, I planted one on him. I don't know why. He was there, I was looking hot, and I wanted it. Later on she said "did you kiss him?" My reply? With a shrug of my shoulders I said "yep." Truthfully, I've kissed over 100 men. I know it's horrible. There have been guys that looked me in the eye and remarked about a fantastic kiss that I'd planted on them years ago. And I don't remember it at all. I want so badly to say to some guys "Jesus dude, do you know how many guys I've kissed?" but that would make me sound like a bit of a whore, so I just go along and make them feel good. *briefly lowers head in shame, but quickly recovers*

My friend actually marveled at my ability to kiss any man that I'm moderately attracted to, while barely knowing his name. The crazy thing is that for me, it seems natural to the point where I don't understand why people get so uptight about it. I mean seriously, it's just a kiss, not blowjob. What's the big deal?

Strangely enough, for me to supposedly be a huge freak, I don't even masturbate. Seriously. If I'm going through a dry spell, I wait it on out. Rubbing on myself just doesn't do it for me. I also don't just have sex with random dudes, despite the constant nagging rumors about me doing with with any old guy. Truthfully, the overwhelming majority of the men I've slept with have been great friends to me. In my youth some of them were bastards, but since then I've learned to be a lot more selective. But when I do get it on...

Anyway, so apparently I'm known as a total slut because of my uncanny ability to give my luscious lips to damned near anyone and have no emotional attachment at all. But I'm also comfortable with my own sensuality a little too much for the comfort of some. Not like I give a damn though. I'm a kissing whore and I've learned to own it. You're just jealous cuz you aren't one too.

His Mother is Gone

I have a friend named Kevin. I've known Kevin since I was 15. I refer to him as my brother. We've shared the most intimate details of our lives and he even just got me a job at the pet store where he works. This is our first time in our lives getting to physically spend this much time together. I love getting to see my brother so often. Kevin and I have always had a bond where we know everything and we get through most of our bad moments by laughing at one another. Seriously. He could write a book about the dumb shit I've done.

My brother just lost his mother. She died this evening after a lengthy illness. I don't know what to say. Of course I'll try to hold down the fort at work while he's gone (as if I have that power), but I just want to take away his pain. I saw a picture of his mother that he posted on his Facebook page. I looked at her and told her that I'll take care of him while she's gone. She responded by telling me that she knows I will. I feel that she's a peace. She's reuniting with loved ones from her past. I feel her being happy. She's free. I'm happy for her, because I feel that her whole body was falling apart and she was ready to go. When I think that he is ready to hear it, I'll pass it on to him. But for now, I just want to heal my brother.

I want to go to him and tell him that she's in a better place. I reminded him to be strong, because he's always been the rock in his family. But even though Kevin is on the other side of town, I can feel his spirit from here and I know that he's falling apart. I can feel his stomach aching. I feel him being dizzy and light headed. I feel that his wife is trying her best to be supportive. I know he's being silent, not knowing what to say. My body, my heart, and my spirit ache for my brother. His mother is gone. And none of my stupid jokes or funny stories can help him.

(s/n I was about to post the picture he just posted of her, but she told me that she didn't want her picture posted, so I chose this one instead)

Sigh... I'm Back

As all two of my loyal readers may know, I'd left. And I fully intended to stay gone. I was pissed and hurt and a bunch of stuff. I'd even set up another blog elsewhere. But I talked to Fred, and despite many of my friends telling me to stick to what I love (which would be my blog) he was the one that told me to forget the dumb shit and to do what makes me happy. I missed my blog. I'm not really going to bore the world with the goings on that I've been through so far. But I'm looking forward to being back.

I'm Done... The End of an Era

After the last few times my blog was scrutinized and infiltrated I swore that I wouldn't stop the show for anything or anyone. Well, I was wrong. I'm stopping it now. I dunno, perhaps I'll reemerge with a new blog and a pseudonym later, but for now I, Malika S. Flowers have had my space, my thoughts, my mind, and my heart violated by sharing my innermost thoughts, for the very last time. I am thankful to the friends that I've made along the way (Kingsmomma and Stefanie are my internet fam!) and thankful to the personal friends that cared enough to stop in and share my incredible journey with me. I've been beaten down and I've been victorious. But the time has come for me to do something different, somewhere else. Thanks for the continued love and support.

With love,
Malika S. Flowers



p.s. Feel free to hit me up on Facebook or drop me an email.