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.

Changes

Last night, my homegirl Nora hit me up and asked me to run her through the neighborhood of the potential home she's about to rent. We went there and actually walked through the house. It was spacious and cozy. She asked me what I thought about it and I told her that if she doesn't want that mofo, if it's still available when my lease is up, I'll take it off of her hands myself.

On the way there, I told her that I've been in the market for furniture and she told me that the Salvation Army has auctions. I looked her square in the eye and said "nope." That's right, no to hand-me-down furniture. I've finally got a job that pays be a handsome amount and when I get my new place, the plan is to put nothing but new furniture in it. I've already started my shopping and I'm so excited about it. This will be the first time in my life that I've bought something big that wasn't a car. But this time, no one is co-signing or anything. That's right, it's MINE.

Nora and I reflected on how we're actually growing up. My last solo apartment was a true shithole, but dammit it was my shithole. Used furniture, cat hair. Man, I miss that place. I even rolled through my old neighborhood, which I dubbed my "Mexican ghetto." It was in the middle of the city and my house was the hang out spot. It wasn't uncommon for people to drop by my home and stay the night because they were too drunk to drive or just didn't want to be alone. While living alone, I let about 7 people crash on my couch at some time or another. And then the pregnancy came and changed every thing up. While with Nora, I contemplated getting an apartment up the street from my old complex, but she urged me to move past my nostalgia and be glad that I could afford an apartment that my parents wouldn't be embarassed to know that I reside in.

Coincidentally enough, I got a call from my friend Anita earlier today. I told her about how excited I am to have my first adult job and how great it feels to have expendable income. I've been working and researching to get Pookie a dope ass birthday present this year. Last year, I got him balloons, 5 Moonpies, and Pumpkin and I drew him a big card. Believe me when I tell you, I'm going to blow that out of the water this year. His birthday is in another month and I'm counting down to reveal it to him. While I'm shopping around to get a good deal, let's just say that I'm about to spend more on him than I've spent on any other man in my life. And I'm glad to do it.

Anyway, I told Anita how I went into a Dollar Tree the other day and I actually spent nearly $9 on crap. That's right, I was able to blow $9 and not kick myself. While I did scold myself for spending money on stuff I didn't need, that $9 wasn't going to keep me from eating. It's not going to keep me from putting gas in the car. Anita and I both marveled on how far we've come. Anita reminded me that at one point, she also slept on my infamous couch. Now Anita is managing a bar in Miami and I'm a counselor.

We're all no longer keeping shitty houses. We're actually talking about buying property. I've convinced Nora to join me on my quest for new furniture. That's right, no thrift stores or auctions. I even had a conversation with my homeboy Leo about life insurance today.

Times are good.

Portia

I spoke a little bit earlier about one of my best friends, Portia. Apparently, my stalker googled me and found that Portia and I are close and sent Portia a friend invite on Facebook. Portia took one look at the invite, and knew that th skeezer was up to no good and declined it without a second thought. That's only one of the many reasons that she'll always be my homie.

So anyway, to give you a little of a back story on Portia, I met her in the third grade at the Meadows Elementary and we were in Ms. Mack's class together. She also lived in my neighborhood and we often walked home from school together. We hung at eachother's homes and we were really close. We eventually lost touch but briefly reconnected in middle school, but we no longer shared classes or walks home. Again we lost touch. I ran into her again a few years after we graduated high school, but we weren't able to exchange contact info.

About two years ago, I thought back on Portia and decided to look her up. I guess I forgot to also add that Portia is the daughter of the late Fred "Rerun" Berry of the show "What's Happening?" which was how I found her. All I had was her name and her father. Long story short, we linked up on Myspace. I got a bulletin about an online radio show that she had started. I decided that I'd call in. And the rest has been a beautiful history.

Who knew at the time that I was friends with a woman that would eventually go on to do great things in the entertainment industry? She was on the pilot episode of the show "Hole in the Wall" and she's the woman that famously shouted "OH CRAP!" as that huge foam thing ran into her. (I just looked it up and her clip all over YouTube and it's still hilarious!) She's acted in a few small independent roles, starred in a play, done some plus sized modeling, was recently voted to be the Face of E.L.F. cosmetics and she just got back from taping a Safe Auto commecial that's due to start airing in May. She's even in it with Justin Case.

I'm just writing to say how absolutely proud I am of Portia. I've seen her go through shit that would have downed anyone else. She's not a petite woman and believe me, the public is often very callous in letting her know that. But she maintains a smile. Yeah, she's been hurt by some things that were said and done. Some people have even personally emailed her to attack her just because of her weight. I've often begged her to forward me those emails so that I can reply to the sender and make them wish that their father had worn a condom. But Portia, ever the calm (and smart) business woman never sends them to me. Although my offer still stands to threaten the life of anyone that hurts my friend's feelings.

Sometimes I wish I had what Portia had, but I know firsthand that she's worked very hard for her success and I look forward to supporting her in any way possible. Because that's what friends are for.

Day By Day

So Pookie and I got into an argument lately and it was a doozy. I'd finally had enough and I told him no more. That was it. For a week, our home was cold and uninviting. I didn't spend any time with him. He inquired about my day and about our son and I answered it all with one word sentences. I wanted so badly to shout about how hurt I was and how I just wanted to leave and never look back. Since I'm working now, I started working the numbers on how much it will take for me to move out and I'd starting combing craigslist to see about renting a house.

I hung out with a girlfriend during that time, and she commented about how upset she could tell I was because of my complete silence during most of our visit. It wasn't until she made that comment that I noticed how social I really am on a regular basis. But that day, I wasn't. That evening she suggested that her friend give me a reading from his deck of Egyptian tarot cards. According to the oracle, now is the time for me to focus on myself and that way if Pookie and I find our ways back to one another, things would be better. But strangely enough, the oracle never said that I should totally let him go.

One night I came home particularly late and I didn't want to hear shit. We argued some more, but then he pulled me into talking. He's so good at getting me to talk to him, even when I don't want to. The next day he asked me to come to a Clottey/Pacquiao fight party with another couple we know. Reluctantly, I went. Before that, I was supposed to have went to see some of my kids, but my plans got cancelled so he came with me to do some shopping. I found some gorgeous Ellen Tracy snake skin peep toe heels that I was about to buy and he actually bought them for me. Needless to say, I'd warmed considerably by then. Of course it wasn't about the money he spent, and I know that he wasn't trying to buy my forgiveness (he had it by then) he was just being a gentleman. He can be so sweet.

We stopped to get something to eat and we finally talked again. And that's when I told him that I really don't want to let go. And I don't. I love him. Yes, we argue. And God only knows how much he works my damned nerves, but I'd jump in front of a bullet for him. But the fact of the matter is that for now, I need to be alone and so does he. I can't ignore that when he and I got together, I was ending a bad situation with my ex, and he was involved with someone else. What was supposed to be a whirlwind romance resulted in a little one, which brought us together, in one way or another, forever. The way we got together was created by such a crazy and precise set of circumstances that I've always felt that we were meant to get together and have a baby. To be honest, throughout the last 3 and a half years I've grown to love him so freaking much. I may talk shit about him all day long, but he knows that I'd do anything for him. Perhaps I should walk away and some days, I wish that I could.

My fear is that the day will come for us to need to leave one another alone, but I won't be able to. I don't want to hold onto a bad situation. I think about that tacky ass skeezer chloe and all I can think is that I'd rather get herpes in my eye than to end up desperate like her. My ex/her baby daddy is a selfish manipulative bastard and she knows it. She's even called and texted me, begging me to take his ass back. Yet she continues to hang on to him like he's a chicken wing that her fat ass can't put down. I look at that ignorant hood rat and think to myself that I'd hate to be like her, holding on to a man for nearly 15 years and still no ring on her hand and still not wanting to be with him half of the time.

When Pookie and I stopped and talked, I said to him "I don't want to let go" and I began to cry. But I knew that I needed some space for me and my son. I need to figure some things out. As I said, I went straight in from a bad situation and I can't say that I've exorcised all of my negativity from my previous relationship. Pookie admitted that he too doesn't want to let go, either. But he stated that he'd like to see what life is like alone, and for that I can't blame him. So we agreed that for now, we'll split and see where life leads us, with the possible intention of us getting back together.

Perhaps it's just me, but I feel a lot better knowing that things aren't just going to split. I love knowing that there's still a chance that we'll get back together. I know that many separations that are supposed to be temporary turn out to be permanent. But there is something so wonderful about knowing that he loves me too. Pookie (while too shy to say it) is the object for desire for a lot of women, but he brings his tall, goofy, yellow ass home to me. Perhaps its because underneath his bravado, he's a normal flawed cat, and I love everything about him, even his flaws.

And if after our separation, we do end up back together and things are right, I'd see us in a better place to talk about getting married. No rush though. I'm loving us how we are.