Coffee Rhetoric: Relationships
Showing posts with label Relationships. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Relationships. Show all posts

March 02, 2012

Date Like A Dummy, Think Like a Foolio, REDUX

Foreword: Overcoming Interracial Dating Myopia

I realize this is the second time I've re-posted an essay but I've been a bit lazy busy working on a few other things and I've got a few topic ideas I need to mentally sift through before blogging them. Additionally, I've been reading some rather… disappointing things across the Black Blogosphere and feel that certain posts apply. Rather than blogging the same thing in some other written variation, I figured I'd offer a brief foreword as a prelude to the re-post. I've been reading some interesting articles (none of which I care to link) and some equally as interesting-- (if not downright disturbing) -- commentary from readers... many of whom are Black women. It seems as if a certain sub-group of my sistren has the dating game all twisted and are vigilant about 'White Knighting' other ill-informed forum commentators… throwing other Black women under the bus in the process.
The concept of agreeing to disagree, respectfully, seems to get lost in translation whenever the issue of interracial dating comes up.

Living and letting live, would be the ideal way for one to date however, those of my sistren (mostly) and brethren who are emphatic about dating other don't seem to be genuine in their dating intentions, as they almost seem to be political. In pushing their agenda(s); climbing on a soapbox and using their respective relationships to antagonize others for who they're attracted to-- (even going so far as to resort name-calling). In being completely frank in my assessment, much of the vitriol I read, came (and comes) from a collective of Black women who are seemingly still hurt by prior relationships and harbor feelings of resentment (despite proclamations of feeling empowered and free). I actually just learned about terms like "DBR" (Damaged Beyond Repair) - Black men and have read pointed attack-words like "stupid, weak, (fat) Black women" and my favorite, "DBR enablers".  Language like this is counterproductive and sanctimonious, as the people at the helm of the hate, demand to have the right to love who they want to love yet, can't seem to do so in earnest.

I never understood why the topic of interracial dating has us (the Black community) at such odds with one another; or why some folks are supposedly so happy with the opportunity to explore their options, yet are so pressed by who someone else is sleeping with or dating and seem bent on projecting their personal aesthetic on others… and will lash out when all their prodding is rejected.
What the hell is wrong with us? Why can't folks just genuinely like who they like, date and marry who they want to date and marry, without there needing to be a motive or agenda behind it; and leave other folks to their own dating devices? Do we really need a How-to manual written by a few self-righteous proselytizers with an axe to grind on something as superficial as "how to attract a White man", belittling other Black women for not trying "something new" and demanding that they mold themselves to fit a beauty mold, dictated by societal norms? Additionally, do we need to be subjected to rap songs ridiculing Black women for not having the right complexion or hair? People who are genuinely empowered, free, and secure with their dating choices, don’t need to indulge in extraneous foolery. Folks have got the game all twisted and need to succumb to the four G’s (Good Goddess Get a Grip!) Just... stop.

Anyway, without further ado...

August 18, 2011

Spilling Open: Introspection

I haven't had the opportunity to spill open on here in a while. .. not in the fashion I'm accustomed to. "Diversifying" and introducing different elements to this blog has prompted me to sort of shut my personal self off. Since I can't afford the luxury of sighing and heaving to a shrink, I figured I'd get back to the middle and do it here. I miss spilling open here. The luxury of having my own forum and not restricting how I utilize my voice is a wonderful and freeing right to have. This very late and sleepless night, I choose to project in a very self-analytical way... for I'm the best, worst, most knowledgeable judge of me, myself, and I. 
Three days ago, I turned 34. I haven't had the opportunity to let the fact that I'm in my hardcore, mid-thirties, sink in until late last night and then now. I've always been an extremely leery woman, but it seems the older I get... the grumpier, more impatient, cut and dry paranoid I become about people's intentions (not to mention the insane hormonal changes my body is experiencing). My thoughts run a mile a minute... still... and my intuition goes into overdrive... The nights I can't sleep (which are often), I'm more in form and my emotions run the gamut.
Close friendships I've had for years are still intact, easy to maintain, and I cherish them. I also curse them for being so long-distance.  I'm finding that cultivating new ones is a difficult process for me. Sort of like the three times I've tried, to no avail, to care for and nurture organic  French lavender plants.  While I enjoy meeting their acquaintance, I don't trust people upon first coming into contact with them and schmoozing is a daunting task I'd rather avoid. My expectations of folks I fancy tend to be pretty basic, but high (within reason)... so when they generate a flaky outer-crust, I have visuals of them engaging in unsavory discussions about me when I'm not around and cackling at my expense after I've opened up to them (a la the movie, Carrie... when she flashes back to her mother mockingly telling her; "They're all gonna laugh at you!"). Mind you, none of the things I'm divulging charts the madness of an Angry Black Woman who's aging and coming undone. I've gone through some schtuff  over the years with people I considered friends, who eventually had no use for me once I stopped being able to provide them with the things they needed from me or who found someone more ride-or-die to guffaw and shoot the shit with. This is nineteen years worth of angst. I'm conflicted; sometimes  assholish when it comes to shielding myself... and so it manifests in a brooding, somewhat cold package ready to cut someone's jugular (or shutdown and close up shop, depending on the situation)- when I think I'm being compromised in some way. I stay solitary for the most part and actually quite enjoy doing things alone... In fact I find it gratifying and not unlike the scene from Catherine Breillat's French film, Romance... where Marie stalks her boyfriend to a sushi restaurant... chagrined by his flagrant pleasure in being alone eating his California rolls and reading his book ... without her... to which she mentally voices over that she would've rather found him cheating with another woman. 
While I dislike being a mercurial woman sans the desire to nurture deeper relationships with the opposite sex or entertain any new applicants for friendship, I've grown comfortable in my ... aloofness (for lack of a better term), as it's easy to just exist in a world unto myself and with people I'm comfortable with and who know me. But while my opaque and indifferent nature seems comforting and offers the protection I need from being inconvenienced in some way...  it's exasperating. 
Aging, learning how to deal with other people's personality quirks juxtaposed against my own, and fumbling towards my core presents an amalgamation of different feelings: perplexed, resistant, and frustrated ...
I understand that venturing outside the comfortable confines I've built around myself is a difficult but very necessary thing I need to experience more often... Despite it being so easy to withdraw and become self-contained... In essence, I just want to be left the hell alone; yet essentially I want to be happy having reached some sort of balanced medium... but I know this isn't a healthy or realistic expectation. What can I say?... I'm a middle child who embraces her right to err and grow. Stay tuned...

June 08, 2010

LOL Cat

It's a wonderful, sunny morning. The air is dry (humidity and rain be damned) and comfortable, and I'm sitting here sipping on coffee mulling over what to do, checking my email, reading the news and chuckling at the latest and greatest in popular culture. Things seem par for the course as usual, lately; The Marginalization of Black Women.To further drive the point on home that we're the LEAST favored- especially (it seems as of late) considering all of the media coverage and news specials about why we can't find love- is a rapper who calls himself Slim Thug; - (insert smirk here)- who poked his head from behind the cloak of irrelevancy- (Read: from underneath a moist rock)- to eloquently offer his two cents on the plight of The Black Woman's Love to Vibe.com, because nothing feels as uplifting as a Black man stepping on our throats to keep us down, never mind the fact that the majority has and does already. I wasn't going to dignify this foolatry with a blog post, but I'm far too amused and tickled not to weigh-in: 
"I have a brother that dates a White woman and he always be fucking with me about it saying, “Y’all gotta go through all that shit [but] my White woman is fine. She don’t give me no problems, she do whatever I say and y’all gotta do all that arguing and fighting and worry about all this other shit.”
My girl is Black and White. I guess the half White in her is where she still cooks and do all the shit that I say, so we make it."...
are amongst some of the sparkling gems of wisdom Slim Thug shares with Vibe online. Quite honestly, I'm not offended; particularly when one considers the source. I think I was more taken aback by his un-cited comment about successful Black men being "extinct."  Since I don't have a "White side" like Slim Thug's current girlfriend or choose to cater to a man's every whim just because he thinks I should, I can only opine from a solely Black side and say that I am getting bored with this growing divide between Black men and women. Many Black men have been espousing Slim Thug's antiquated rhetoric for the past 50 years or so.  Slim Thug outlined a lot of what he wants done for him, but didn't outline how he'd reciprocate those gestures to his biracial girlfriend's "White side." (I didn't mind mentioning her "Black side" because he doesn't seem all that keen on that half). I'd like to think that relationships are a little deeper than merely cooking, cleaning, and catering to someone who feels self-entitled, can't stand a woman who does more than nod or blink, and doesn't think he should do something to nourish his partner. Slim Thug also presumes to think that EVERY White woman is a passive doormat with no aspirations other than to wait on someone hand and foot, as if they're 2 dollar concubines.
His ramblings about Black women being nothing more than gold-diggers with no drive (has he noticed the media attention on infidelity and the rise of the groupie lately?? None of them are Black women) - speaks volumes about his own pathology. As a rapper living the lifestyle it entails, I'm sure he runs amongst a certain circle, undoubtedly meeting a specific brand of woman on a consistent basis. Notwithstanding the fact that Slim Thug and his ilk perpetuate that type of behavior, braggartly promising to take women on shopping sprees and lavish trips, while having genital spasms over how much money they make from hustling  ... but will be angry when they're held to that particular standard.
I don't knock anyone's right to fumble towards affluence or a comfortable life or to date who they're attracted to for that matter, but his obvious issues with American African have nothing to do with me or most other Black women for that matter. He chose to engage a certain type of bird... that's his problem and his demon to slay. He should upgrade his intelligence and think outside his box... because any woman who graduated from Columbia University and chooses to nourish this man's ego and allow him to dictate to her, may have some soul searching  to do herself.  
While the latter part of his interview had some valid points about where our community's priorities are based, the bulk of what Slim Thug outlined in his interview spans a wide spectrum and is not behavior exclusive to just Black women. ALL women and men have the capacity to hurt someone or be jerks. The energy you put out is what you get back; bottom line. If you go looking for drama or looking to find flaws or pick a fight with someone, then guess what? ... the relation-SHIP will sink faster than the Titanic.
The same way his brother relates to his White wife, is probably different than how he tried to get on with a Black woman. Respect is a two way street. It's not rocket science. Slim Thug seems to be scarred from a prior relationship, so I'll forgive his irrational generalizations and ignorance. As long as Black men like Slim Thug continue to have a laundry list of ridiculous demands written on the palm of their hands like the next groupie's phone number, Black women will and should continue to have a list of reasonable ones folded neatly into a small square, at the bed of our purses. Otherwise, the word is COMPROMISE. That is all. 


 

March 04, 2010

Leave Me Alone!

Black women. We've been labeled as Mammies, Jezebels, Golddiggers, Undesirables, and now Tragic Figures?  Yes, 2010 seems to be The year of years to bash Black women, in yet another redundant cycle of trash talk about why we are, the way we are. Some might read this post and disagree, but then those of you who do probably aren't Black women and are whispering under your breath for me to shut my gob because, Michelle Obama is this country's First Lady. It's just that simple, really. *insert side eye here.* 
It seems as if every publication I read, or program I watch has an article or segment discussing why Black women are single. Forget the construction of the pyramids or the Bermuda Triangle. ... Black women being single in high numbers seem to be the mystery du jour! To hell with finding a cure for AIDS or getting over this country's health care, job, and economic crises. Black women are single and it's our own fault. The world needn't be bogged down worrying about the important issues... but should mull over my love life instead. You see, Black women... we're just too driven and unyielding. We're difficult to please and our need to find our place in the world and plant our flag is off-putting... apparently. How dare we try to better ourselves or even entertain the notion of having (insert danger music here!)... EXPECTATIONS. Not to mention we aren't trying nearly as hard enough to look like the vixens in the rap and R&B videos. 
According to these articles, newsreels, blogs, and public forums of the like, seems like the only, and I mean THE ONLY way Black women can reconcile being tragically single is to date White men, and ONLY White men. This White Knight In-waiting, will apparently salvage what's left of our lonely years, and is a last resort to prevent us from dying alone with nothing more than a house filled with cats, all of which would undoubtedly nibble away at our rotting corpses. To hell with dating someone who has mutual interests, regardless of his skin color or ethnicity. Who cares if you like various types of men from all walks of life, with GREAT PERSONALITIES, or if you're even interested in going that route? Racial/Ethnic fetishization is definitely the solution to our habitual singledom! Non?  *shrugs*
Listen, I don't know why my sex and dating habits have become public fodder for the media and various other men and people to pick apart and scrutinize. I guess the fact that many Black women aren't rocking back and forth in a corner or curled up under the covers in a fetal position, because no one has "put a ring on it"... or aren't bemoaning the fact that we're single or unmarried doesn't occur to those of you doing the judging and marking ticks in your little notebooks. We aren't the only group of women who live singly, however, our White counterparts are merely single, looking, and living footloose and fancy free a la 'Sex And The City.' They're simply exploring their options and building their careers until Mr. Big catches their eye and having a great time playing the field in the interim. Why can't this simply be the case for Black single women as well? Why are we scraping the earth for scraps, clucking around like confused chickens... looking for any remnants of a good man... rather than just exploring infinite possibilities and having fun too? 
Everyone's an armchair anthropologist or sociologist these days, especially when it comes to Black female sexuality. Our femininity... our desirability is constantly up for debate. Men (especially) have mucho jokes and take low brow swipes for days talking about our appearance, our attitudes, and our personalities. Residents holed up in their glass houses, throwing stones. Black women aren't good enough because we want better... or at least according to Black male comedians and social critics turned dating experts, with dubious track records of their own.
I've grown tired from reading these statistics about the numbers of Black women who aren't hitched. Why is this even newsworthy? Why is anybody still single in this complex era of love and dating rules? Moreover, why am I being told to date this type of man or that type of man... do *this* with your body, but not *that* by critics who can't even fathom... who don't even know my core and all of its wonderful complexities? 
Men, the media, and so called experts on Black female sexuality can tout off a long list of reasons why Black women are single and the primary, b.s. song is that our standards are too high. The last time I checked, having standards (within reason), is a common thing to expect. Men also are notorious for having outlandish standards, and those very same standards could also be indicative of why many of them are hopelessly single and are prompted to fly overseas to woo desperate and eager foreign women. Most of those who're anti-standards seem to be sub-par to mediocre at best and so complain the loudest about a Black woman's high standards.
At the end of the day, I'm single because I've chosen to be. Because I'm preoccupied with various other things in my life that fulfill me or keep me too busy to lament over such nonsense. Perhaps it's also attributed to my impetuous and overly sophisticated bon-mots and risqué coquetries... perhaps not. I'd like to think I'm a little more multi-layered than most would have me be. 
No one has the right to dictate the reasons why so many Black women in America are single, and claim it as fact. There is no one, fundamental reason why. It just is, what it is. We aren't some abnormal sub-species. And anyway, mind your own damn business. That is all.

January 28, 2010

Me Talk Pretty One Day

Snow fall, plus minimal sleep, coupled with grumpiness, divided by exasperation, multiplied by, "Wait, I'm flummoxed," plus "Bastard(s) please!"- minus zero booze equals my mind is on a marathon run, and it has a case of the disappointeds. 


"Sex only goes so far — then you want to be able to talk to the person..." -creator of that sex robot, talking, woman thing.
  • Smile! 
  • Slim down! 
  • Just nod! 
  • Go easy on the intellect, will you!
  • You're way too sophisticated for me (read: your brain is too high maintanence).
  • Only weigh-in when deferred to. 
  • You look angry. 
  • Bitch! 
  • I've created you in *my* image. Live up to it dammit!
  • Be infallible, pwetty pweeeease!
  • You're aging. Stop it at once before I upgrade!
  • I'll stalk you until you *do* give in! 
  • You're comfy with your sexuality? Then you're a slut, WHORE!
  • You can turn on the smart now. I'm ready for you. Bring it!
  • You should like this list of preferences, cuz it makes me happy and secure ... 
So many demands. The list seems endless. It becomes even more asinine and disturbing it its growth. Perhaps now that the latest and greatest in technological minds has created a sex robot (fresh off the AVN Porn Expo's showroom floor)  that focuses on "appealing to the mind." Real, living, and breathing women born of flesh and blood can exhale a little bit and get somewhat of a reprieve from living up to so many standards. Even if it seems to aim to make us obsolete (or to appeal to the socially inept male mind, who can't mesh well or deal with real female interaction anyway). Alas, an inanimate object, masquerading as a woman, reminiscent of a corpse can listen intently, as its human lover reads it passages out of David Levy's 'Love And Sex With Robots.' Ladies, hold tight to your vibrators. It doesn't judge or criticize, and will never demand that you "smile!" while walking past it.

December 10, 2009

NOT The One

I recently stumbled across a few websites, such as this one (my personal fave), mocking ill-thought out and poorly written dating ads. Interest piqued, I decided to reactivate a couple of dormant accounts on free social/dating sites, and do some perusing (in the name of research) myself.
So many Dating Profiles for Dummies type articles are written and seemingly geared toward women, suggesting how we might be able to get better results, if we spruce our profiles up a certain way... to endear ourselves to the male populace, who're undoubtedly trolling for creme de coochie as opposed to "Finding that true one." (Let's keep it real. That's what most of them are on there for. AdultFriendFinder and Craigslist be damned). "Be sure to include several, recent FULL BODY shots." ... "Be coquettish and clever with your headlines. But never come off as desperate or needy. Use catch phrases such as "Lioness needs keeper" some of the experts suggest. Every other week the Yahoo! homepage features articles titled "His Top 10 Turn-offs" or "Dating Site Techniques Every Woman Should Know."
Plenty do's and don't's for women... as many wave their arm in the air, yelling, "Pick me! Pick me! I'm beautiful, charming, and all of my pictures are recent!!!"
Careful inspection has prompted me to flip the script and offer my wry and sardonic take on my Top Turn-offs, when I attempt to read through some of profiles of the opposite sex. I see a notable pattern amongst all of them. Which causes me great distress, because some things should appear to be fundamental for those who don't think they're infallible. My $1.10 worth is definitely worth a damn, because the forums are rife with trolls and men, bemoaning the fact that women won't reply to their messages... and how we're only there to play games and collect emails...How we're all "bitches" with "saggy tits" who have no right to reject their advances.
One common theme in a lot of the profiles I skimmed when prompted by an email or a "favorited" status, is men starting off with a cynical or negative slant to their profile... "I don't know why I'm doing this, but here goes..." many read. Others ***PUT AN ALL CAPS WARNING*** hugged tightly by asterisks, at the beginning of their longwinded, grammatically incorrect decrees, that explicitly outline who's eligible to message them or even look at their boring profiles. Take this lecture for instance- (abridged and shrunken in size because it was just soooo damn long and rambling...)
PLEASE READ through my WHOLE PROFILE, I took time to write this so I don't waste your time or mine... I know how trying dating can be so I wrote in detail for someone that really feels compatible.. I'm open minded, passionate, and affectionate. I'm a self starter who's not afraid to take chances to better myself financially and emotionally. Don't believe in revolving doors. Only interested in a progressive relationship with someone that is READY for a COMMITTED relation that shows some kind of PASSION or real INTEREST in building something long term. Been meeting to many women as of late that give me the sense that they don't want to take a chance. Instant gratification is a pipedream. Things need to progress into something. If you don't show that you care one way or the other, well, the person your dating is going to loose interest FAST. It's just the way life is... We've all been hurt in the past one way or the other.
Um, that was just the introduction... then he finally concludes by thanking the poor soul who bothered to read through all of his drivel, P.S.ing that he also has two cats he hopes won't cause an allergy outbreak.
This guy figured a little condescension would go well with his photo...
Here we go... :) Is it just me or is being single and meeting a down to earth woman who is independent and has values so hard that is is like having a second job!!! I am wondering if woman in this day and age appreciates a guy that works a 9-5 ,who is independent and doesn't ask or say give me,give me,giveme.......If you have kids I am sure you independent woman don't need a grown man to also claim as a dependant on your taxes :)...If I offended any of you woman that thrive to do that then I apologize.......Life is too short.......I have a good sense of humor ,like to go to concerts or even a nice day in park to take a walk and talk........Into going to the gym to work out and respect those who respect me......Not into drama.....Just an open-minded fella here who knows how to be a good listener but at the same time I not a pretty boy or a softy......I am educated but have a little street in my swagger.Don't worry I do know proper english when having a sophisticated conversation with one or more people lol........Where you independant woman at? Stop hiding and upgrade on your choice of men.......Start with me first though :) Even it it doesn't work out we can still be friends......Open to all races along as keep you yourself mind ,body and soul intact.....I enjoy the company of a open-minded woman who speaks her mind,a little sarcastic,aggressive at times,good sense of humor,likes to stay somewhat physically fit and has a certain aura about her that makes her sexy and stand out..........I can be a romantic too with the candles,cards bubble baths :) and flowers or just say something nice to put a smile on your face.....Oh yeah I don't take the greatest pics and trust me I look better in person...No games I keep it real.I also enjoy music and can dance pretty good lol......Somebody teach me some salsa,merengue or bachata :) if you happen to be a latina woman :) Listen I am not an angel but I am a good man and role model if you have kids.......Good guy just try to keep up with the bad boys....It seems like they taking all the good ,hard working woman..lol
And of course, there're the charmingly poetic emails such as this one...
Hello, I realize this may sound abit forward of me but here goes. I will be turning 51 shortly and I would really like to receive an oldfashioned. over the knee birthday spanking from someone. Please let me know whether or not you might be up to it. Sincerely, (insert name here)
So forth and so on. Long winded profiles, none of it ever mentioning anything about their personalities or interests.
Listen, it's not rocket science. If you expect women to respond to your inquiries, keep it brief and keep it realistic. Once you start getting responses, than you can pick and reject accordingly. No one is going to read through a whole edict. If you're perfect and sans any flaws, congratulations... Most other people aren't. Good luck not getting any feedback. Also, why sign up for a dating site if you aren't willing to provide at least ONE visual? "Message me for a picture" just doesn't cut it. Sorry.Yet you sit there, all bugeyed from behind your naked profile, leering at photos, commenting how "hot" someone's rack looks.
Let's go guys, damn!

November 05, 2009

Save Your Own-damn-self

There's a certain type of man that agitates my gut, and causes it to gurgle with unpleasantness... making the pressure build up and hold my colon in its clutches with a vice-like grip. This type of guy orgasms and messes his drawers with creme de la man, when he thinks a woman is in great distress. He just can't bear to know that she'll be okay, and really doesn't want, desire, or need to confide in him, despite his constant pleas for her to do so...
This manly man has self-esteem issues of his own, and lest he obsesses over some woman who could care less about his prying, he can't thrive and feel good about himself. "I'm fine. My personal affairs are none of your business" usually generates a smug chuckle, and he interprets the response as combative and frustrated behavior. This type of character exists on different levels of the spectrum. Sometimes he relishes the thought of a woman having a bad day or a difficult spell and will shiver with pleasure... so he antagonizes and doles out unsolicited advice... patronizes because he's unhappy with himself, and thinks he's some sort of big shot who knows everything. He becomes even more antagonistic and self-satisfied in a desperate attempt to feel needed.. to feel superior. My theory is this type of guy was a big shot in high school and college, and is used to women giving a damn about his douchey behavior. Or that he may, quite possibly for certain, be a premature ejaculator and needs to feel adequate in some way.
He'll nibble, poke, and prod away like some mouse o'er top a hunk of cheese... a feeble attempt to break her resolve, until she crumbles into a crying heap, in his arms... as he rocks her and whispers know-it-all witticisms in her ear. This is what he's hoping will happen anyway. A regular limerent type, that one. With delusions of grandeur ... Might I suggest getting a life? It's not that serious. Regardless of how much you antagonize, patronize, and flex... you will remain insignificant in a universe known as Just Don't Give A Damn. You can be a tiny little satellite that orbits outside perimeter though.

July 16, 2009

Order In The Court

I've noticed an annoying trend in courting rituals. One more small annoyance to add to the already difficult process of dating. Texting. I am not one of those self-righteous, anti-technology people who goes on boring rants about the evils of social networking, texting, and mobile phones. As annoying and impersonal as those outlets can be, I am very pro-gadget and technology. While it has it's cons, technology and social networking has made it easier to keep in or get back in touch with long lost friends, enemies, frenemies, and prospective employers. Many things in life have negative aspects to them... you couldn't pay me to travel back to the dark ages. Advancement in technology is not the sole vice or annoyance society has to grapple with. The phenomenon is only as stupid as the moron accessing it... which brings me to my primary point.
Men- (I can't speak for women, because I don't date women and many of the ones I know aren't this inconsiderate, but I'll be fair and say I'm sure they're just as guilty)- if you've just met a woman for the first time, made out with her, groped her, etc... and you've decided "Wow, I like her and I want to talk to her and get to know more about her beyond this point" and you insist... DEMAND that she give you her phone number... and you make a point of programming it into your phone while she's standing there, then CALL her. This texting bullshit as the FIRST official attempt at communicating ... "Hey sexy" and "wat u up to?" is nothing short of rude and disrespectful, and it's not a good first impression. Not to me and many of my friends anyway.
How do you expect to develop any type of rapport with someone you supposedly like... or want to hop in the sack with by TEXTING grammatically lazy phrases??
Behavior like this is vexing and agitating. Myself? I may give your brusque and short messages the side-eye, and after careful consideration, might even respond a few times. I may even give you the benefit of the doubt that you'll actually CALL and I'll hear a live voice either on my voicemail or in real-time at some point throughout the course of the courtship. I'll do you one better; In the past, I've responded to text messages by leaving a voicemail, saying "Hi," asking to "Give me a call when you get the opportunity." Which means, TAG, you're it! Your turn! Only to get yet another text in response, RIGHT AFTER I've left the voicemail! After a VERY short while, your texts WILL go ignored! Trust this.
I will flat out refuse to respond, assuming that you have no desire to actually TALK for 5 or 10 minutes, which is enough time to determine someone's personality and whether you want to ask them out on a date. I'll assume that you aren't interested in setting up a time to meet up and that you have no real interest in me as a person, and that you're only wanting to waste my time by playing electronic footsies with your cyclical, same sounding two word sentences. ... "Hey sexy. Wat u doing? Wat u wearing?" Level headed and tech-savvy folk in the know realize that "wat u wearing?" is code for, "send me a topless photo, and I'll send you a pic of my genitals."All before being asked out on an ACTUAL date for coffee or a glass of wine, because you'd rather wile away valuable time sexting messages like some sexually precocious preteen: "i want u so bad. wish u were here."
Listen, I text more than the next person, but I'm usually texting with people I KNOW. People I have connections with. People I also chat to on the phone. My close and best friends, my sisters, my mother, acquaintances I pal around with, someone I've dated, don't despise and have maintained a friendship with, so forth and so on and I'm not making an ALL DAY AFFAIR of it. If I don't KNOW you and am making every attempt to GET to know you within the context of dating, and you don't reciprocate that gesture, then you may as well kick rocks. And don't you DARE send me a message at 1:00 in the MORNING asking, "hey u up?" OMG!! R U SERIOUS!? How dreadful! Moreover, don't respond to my obvious exasperation with your thoughtless time wasting, texting : "I thought u liked me ???" or "It's just easier to txt cuz am on the run." If you're on the run, then BE ON THE RUN! How about contacting the person of your desire when you AREN'T "on the run" and have a moment to spare.
Look, I'm not one for walking down the street or going about my daily activities, jabbing at my phone's keypad like crazy. I understand that some people love it, but my thumbs get tired, it wears on my nails, more importantly it's distracting and detracts from whatever it is you're doing. As many people as I see running their pie holes on the phone while en-route somewhere, that "on the run, can't actually call" excuse is utter doo-doo. Texting sentences on a small keypad, on the run, seems like it takes more effort than talking to someone for 3 seconds to say, "I'm out and about, just wanted to call to say hi and that I'm thinking about you, we'll talk later though!" and then you hang the eff up. Don't ask for someone's phone number if you have no intention of talking to them. Get their email address instead if you want to type at them.
Cut this foolishness out. It's not a good way to connect with someone you supposedly want to learn more about. KNOW them first before you start texting them a bunch of nonsense. That is all.

December 29, 2008

Start the New Year Off Right...

As I stated two posts below, I'm not one to compose an extensive list of New Year's Resolutions, but I do try to start the new year right, as best as I can. I hope you all do the same. Please, don't be a "Jump Off Bitch Trick Freaky Dick Suckin' Cum Drinkin' Dick In the Booty Ass Young Bitch." Seriously.
To each his and her own, but it's just not a particularly sophisticated or classy way to act. You can't really expect to meet a man of worth or value displaying such overt and gratuitous sexuality in this way. It's not pleasurable and it's painful and disrespectful. Trust this. I try to keep it classy at all times. I suppose this is why I'm okay with being 31 and still single. So start 2009 off with some class. Don't be a "Jump Off Bitch Trick"... oh read the rest above and more importantly listen to Alexyss K. Tylor! She's raw and uncut, but her messages are oh so right. In fact, her words are pure poetry (see "jump off bitch trick..."). Take care of and respect your body, cervix uteri, vaginal cavity, uvula, and intestines. If you don't, no one will. Allow and demand that a man acquaint himself with your intellect and your true visage, not your "pussy face."

September 01, 2008

Dante's Inferno

There's a new book out. Yet another manifesto that feasts and nibbles on the fleshy insecurities and perceived shortcomings of women. Because Tariq "K-Flex" Nasheed's Art of Mackin' and The Mack Within' needed a supplement. Because men are infallible masters who hold all the answers to life's complexities and one of their primary purposes is to guide us wayward women into a magick fairyland where we would gladly submit ourselves to a life of passivity and servitude.
In any event, this latest fuckery is entitled, The Re-Education of the Female and it's written ever so eloquently by computer engineer and first time author, Dante Moore. Moore-- described by Washington Post writer Laura Yao as a well groomed, heavyset, baby-faced, 33-year old with neatly twisted dreadlocks-- professes to love women, and that he wrote this book to help us along .
Moore was also raised in a matriarchal household, and his father was mostly absent. His mother insisted that he treat women like, "queens." But as Dante aged, he came to the realization that his mother was oh so very wrong. See, he discovered that acting like a douchetard toward insecure and needy women, made the phone ring off the hook, much to his delight-
"My mother used to say, walk them home from school, grab their books, give them gifts, blah blah blah, yada yada yada. I went like that for maybe two years, and I probably lost every girlfriend that came along- Once I started being myself and saying, 'look, I'm not going to do this, this, or that for women,' the phone didn't stop ringing, "
The kicker is that Moore was able to train his girlfriend of two years, into dressing sexy on the daily and even prompted her to clean the house looking like a femme-fatale.
"He's wonderful. He's one of the good ones." She coos lovingly (I assume she cooed lovingly). Despite succeeding in brainwashing gaining the adulation of his girlfriend, Dante still claims to not have found "true love" as yet, which would explain why he's not hitched, even though he has an impressionable 11-year-old son to doucheify. Yao neatly summarized the crux of Dante's literary point: Women need to Cook, clean in sexy-hot attire, bow down to a man's every command, put out, and stay skinny if they want to snag and keep a man's interest.
"I like someone of a certain size," Dante rambles on. "My preference would be African American, size 10 or under, conscious about her history and culture."
Miseducation Re-Education of the Female reinforces Dante's preference in this excerpt in which he charmingly compares women to rotten fruit--
"The fatter you get, the more you decrease your potential single-man pool. Let me give you an example. When you go to the grocery store to shop, do you pick out the nastiest-looking, most rotten, smelliest fruit or meat you can find? Oh, you don't? Why not? . . . It's the same with men when they see baby elephant-sized, out-of-shape women."
If Dante Moore's douchery still doesn't illuminate, read this excerpt from Yao's interview with him, in which he fumbles an attempt at being evasive about his dating history--

Though generally reluctant to discuss the specifics of his dating life, Moore does talk unabashedly of a time he broke up with a woman over the fact that he inadvertently almost stole $15 from her.

He took her on a date to Maggie Moo's, and she gave him a $20 bill to order for her. He pocketed the bill and, distracted by the menu board, claims he never saw the value of the bill and just assumed it was $5. When his date later asked why he hadn't given her change, he thought she was accusing him of not treating women well, and dumped her on the spot.

"If I would've just paid for it, had she not given me the money at all, we'd probably still be dating," he says.

This incident, he recalls, happened about two months ago. But weren't he and Tuitt (the trained girlfriend) "exclusive" during this time? Moore quickly revises it to "several months ago," he can't really remember, but probably before he and Tuitt "became exclusive."

Dante's bottom bitch girlfriend later covers for him, saying he probably made a mistake with the time frame, for he's "open with everything he does."--- (queue the collective Bitch PLEASE! and eye-rolls). Laura Yao concludes her expose by mentioning that a 14-year-old girl enthusiastically purchased the book promising to lend it to her mom when she's done reading it, and that a "large stack" still remained during Dante's underwhelmingly attended book signing, that particular day.

Unfortunately, this is what relationship advice has been reduced to. Insecure and bitter men doling out wordz of wizdom to other insecure, bitter men seeking validation and this overwhelming need to rate or condescend to women, not to mention the naive women who will undoubtedly fall for this hype, because they are sick of waiting by the phone (when they should be doing something far more productive).

I've extricated myself (unofficially yet gladly) from the market sans regret, and must admit that while annoyed, I can't be angry over books (or ideas) like this. All one has to do is find the comic relief and entertainment in its message. To read between the lines and wonder why yet another man, would go out of his way to write such a bittersweet symphony about the evils of womankind.
I'll bet Moore almost exploded into a million teeny tiny douche pieces when his book got picked up. All the more reason to gloat and pound his chest. Why not just enter into a legitimate BDSM relationship, complete with a signed contract and willing participant, if he is that intent on dominating and subjugating a woman?? At least it'd be a lot more honest and less bullshitty. I also just LOVE how he considers us FEMALES and not WOMEN. Makes me all shivery. If Dante Moore is indeed, considered "one of the good ones" as his loyal girlfriend claimed, then I'd rather find some Aggressive to do the scissor with. Look, everyone is entitled to having preferences when it comes to what they consider aesthetically appealing. I'd be lying if I said certain physical traits on a man didn't attract me. And admittedly, Dante Moore appears to be an attractive looking man. And while I believe I can pass for being quite attractive despite my flaws, I don't walk around pretending to be perfect looking or that everyone should want me because I think I'm goddess's gift. I'm realistic, and while my expectations are up there, they're within reason... with the bulk of the emphasis being on intellect and whether or not a man is respectable and respectFUL.
I am sick of dudes lumping ALL women in the same categories due to their own personal experiences:
  • Golddiggers,
  • Unappreciative,
  • Hyper-sensitive,
  • Gullible,
  • Not attractive or mindful of her appearance due to having some meat on the bones,
  • Expecting the world to revolve around her
  • Uncooperative.
We're automatically uncooperative and high-maintenance because we want to be treated respectfully? I'll be the first to admit that many women may be conflicted over that concept and will send mixed signals... and blow off a genuinely nice guy, no matter what he does for her, but the majority aren't. Trust. I mean, I could neatly classify ALL MEN under the same categories and write them ALL off for the following reasons:
  • Jackass
  • Douche
  • Disingenuous
  • Unreliable
  • Too Dumb
  • Not packing in the meat department
  • Fug
  • Blathery
  • Uneducated
  • Boring
  • Poor
  • Old
  • Impotent
  • Sloppy
  • Unstylish
  • Misshapen
  • Dogs
  • Liars
  • Cheaters
But I don't, because I realize one's personal experience with a few isn't indicative of the sum total of a whole lot. And more importantly, most of those labels and rating men based on bullshit standards are unfair. It's a shame that a few bad dating experiences from seemingly ungrateful women resulted in Dante becoming crass, bitter, and cynical enough to pen this book. Rather than suggesting that women need to be "re-educated", perhaps he should get some therapy and explore the things that may very well be wrong with him as well. Women who fall for men who treat them poorly have deep rooted issues they need to work out. i.e. the women who seemed to call Dante once he started treating them like yesterday's bowel movement. Or the groupies Dante met during his signings and whispered their phone numbers in his ear. I'm tired of guys of Dante's ilk thinking perfection is their due, when they have a looooog way to come themselves ... physically and especially intellectually. These distorted and unrealistic perspectives regarding what womanhood entails. Par for the course as far as the patriarchy is concerned. I am a LADY who would not give this type of base chauvinism the time of day. Get a fucking uterus, a pair of tits, some culture, and a clue and I just might engage you.

I shall certify Dante with Massengill's stamp of approval for exerting the effort, for having a great smile, and more importantly- for successfully conning his girlfriend.

February 10, 2008

Rolling With the Punches

Life is still chug, chug, chugging along. Work keeps me pretty busy, I've been consuming large doses of chocolate, coffee, and smoked almonds... prescribed by Dr. Jones, M.D. and struggling to find sleep however and wherever I can (sometimes I pass out fully clothed, not having the energy to change into my PJs, and not waking up until the next morning with my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth, and my eyeliner smeared all over my eyes). I takes it however I can get it. That's what facial cleanse, a nice hot shower, and toothpaste is for. The apartment hunt also rages on. I'm hoping late Spring early Summer will find me laying down a deposit somewhere cool. The weather has been grey, brisk, and foggy complete with snow showers or just simply rain. I've also been watching a lot of horror films, for some reason...
This past Thursday, I had my first official work related altercation (it had been building because she had been acting the fool from word go), which leads me to the conclusion that some people are just predisposed to lunacy, ignorance, and being les miserables in search of company. New kid on the block or not, I am never afraid to stand up for myself particularly if I feel as if my livelihood is being threatened. There is never any reason to feel intimidated by someone just looking for trouble, because they think they can. Unfortunately for her, she discovered that I am NOT the one, and I only need to state my case once. I don't need to yell, wiggle my neck, or jab my finger to get my point across. I refuse to engage in some sort of back and forth power struggle every single day I come to work, and I make my point in a level, stern, yet controlled voice. I make sure to maintain eye contact to show how unafraid I am. Considering the tumultuous experience I left at my previous place of employment, I do not plan on engaging pettiness, gossip, disingenuousness, and behaviors of the like.
I'm busy, preoccupied, there for very specific reasons... to perform tasks and contribute my expertise and work ethic as best as I can, and to be cordial to everyone so I can go home in a relatively decent mood. My brain is full to capacity and there's no room for irrelevancy. Period. Needless to say this past Friday, she was sweetness and light. And I still don't like her, but I'm glad she was acting human... because all we have to be is cordial and civil to one another, to reach work related goals. I don't know why people think the work place is for unproductive socializing and trying to start some unnecessary mess. It's not a place for escandaloso! I also appreciate the warnings I received and the support shown me ... encouraging me not to take that ish personally, because of someone's issues. I gots to roll with the punches maybe, and dust that ish off.
On an interesting note, whilst standing, waiting for a cab on a dark, particularly wet and foggy evening, A man walked by me and asked me if I needed a ride anywhere. I politely declined and told him I had a taxi on its way. He walked half way to his car, turn and yelled, "How about dinner then?!" I laughed. He walked back over and made his case: "I am really spontaneous, I'm not married, no girlfriend, I'll give me your number and you can think about it." He also told me he had planned on getting take out for dinner, but decided to stop by the supermarket and get fixings for a nice dinner. One of the most genuine approaches I ever experiences sans the stupid pick up lines. I accepted his number. And finally called him Friday after I returned from lunch, to say "hello." We spoke briefly. He said he had been thinking about me the previous day, saying to himself that I wouldn't call. I told him, I phoned because he seemed genuine and wasn't corny... I said in a previous post that I am too preoccupied to entertain prospective dates. Why do these things happen at the most inopportune moments?
To be continued. ...

January 23, 2008

No Love

Amidst all the chaos, the trials and tribs, my fall and subsequent rise. In the crux of my moving, job hunting, cursing my bad luck, finally starting and now settling into a new job, apartment hunting, contemplation, absorption, ups and downs... In the midst of this egomaniacal reverie... I haven't, not once, entertained the thought of dating, men, signiffy others, sex or lack thereof, or the joys of digital manipulation, even. It has been awhile since I've lamented over my solitary confinement. I haven't thought about ghosts from my pasts at all. They've all become nameless, insubstantial phantoms. I don't wonder what they're doing, I don't care where they are. I don't remember how they look, smell, how much they got on my nerves. What they did to make me sigh with resignation. No dating... away with the online dating profiles, peer to peer contact, considering dating prospects, making eye contact and averting my gaze right before something clicks... all of these things have become my current reality. Because I haven't thought about it until this second, none of it has really mattered or made me feel any self-loathing and self-pity. Oh, I've become quite used to my aloof and cold nature and have settled into my chilly exterior (my interior is quite warm). I honestly don't know what to make of it really. I'm neither pleased with myself or unhappy about how self contained and focused I am. Once things have quieted down, only time will tell what the dating future will conjure up. What creatures will come slithering out from under their moist rock, which normal, sane, handsome gentlemen will take me off guard in spite of myself or what embarrassing yet salacious fodder I'll feed to the masses (or perhaps keep to myself). ... Only time will tell. I am ready for another adventure abroad... this much I know is true.

January 05, 2008

La Guerre des Soeurs

When you consider who your adversaries are, depending on your situation, none cut like a sharp ginzu knife or are as compelling than antagonists from your immediate family. Situations brew, they fester, they percolate, and seethe. When they finally reach a fever pitch and culminate in an all out war of words purged and wild gesticulating... it makes for a nasty and uncomfortable situation. It also makes for some interesting revelations and necessary moments of clarity.
How does one navigate the complexities of family ties when you are disliked by a sibling... have known for years a close family member holds disdain for you and hate your guts, despite strained efforts to play "nice," or are (yourself) harboring distrust, mutual disdain, and dislike for a sib? The answer is, despite what you know is right... at a certain point in your life you don't anymore. You stop zig zagging. You end your journey, cut your unfortunate losses and reluctantly move on, because none of us have the luxury of choosing what type of family members we want or how we want them to relate to us. While some people have a great rapport with their siblings, others have strained ones that eventually crack and then break from the weight. All that's left to do is to remove yourself as far away from the person and situation as soon as time and resources will allow. And that's exactly what I'm aggressively attempting to do. A sad state of affairs, but considering the rough year I've had and my knack for catching a mean case of bad luck, I've grown numb to anything else negative that has happened or may potentially happen in my life. I feel and emote for those few seconds and then I glaze over... hot water turning into ice. Stoicism has become a code of conduct I've grown adept at. It's my armor and shield, if you will.
I never understood the concept of estrangement, of people separating themselves from immediate family members... moms, dads, brothers, sisters... until today. The next couple of months will probably be awkward, but c'est la vie. Such are the breaks for those who are "first born second." The world doesn't end. It may choke, sputter, and gasp for breath... but it doesn't end. ;-( ...

December 13, 2007

First Born Second

"I was born as a second child. All I got was hand-me-downs. All that is what was left..." Bilal, from his debut album, First Born Second
Psychiatrist and theorist, Alfred Adler has surmised that the order in which one is born, influences their personality. That order can have leave an indelible impression on that sibling's quality of life and the way in which they cope with life's trials and tribulations. Of course many psychologists of yore and today dispute Adler's suggestions on birth order. I was born right smack-dab in the midst of the madness. A middle child. Introspective, mercurial, passionate, self absorbed, creative, sensitive, aloof, stoic, an aversion to being told what to do by my mother sometimes/but clinging and crying to her other times (preferably in the absence of my sisters). I've been spending a lot more time with my immediate family amidst my transitional phase, and I've never been more aware of where I fall in the triad my mother has created, as I have been recently. Middle Child Syndrome, it has been christened. Regardless of how people cope with being the second born, the syndrome feels very real to many of us middlers. A feeling of being somewhat solitary and misunderstood. Alone in my philosophies and ways of thinking and living, a sense of feeling undermined or disputed, fighting to be heard over competing voices, wanting to be left alone, creative, artistic, caught between a rock and a hard place, sometimes wanting to slip under the radar, a bit eccentric and self contained ... While theories abound on Middle Child Syndrome and we all cope differently with being wedged in between two siblings, it is a rather interesting and complex situation to deal with sometimes. I suddenly feel compelled to delve deeper into the order of such things in order to figure out some things about myself. I suddenly feel a deep empathy for Jan Brady.

August 04, 2007

Bearded Lady

I hate body hair. I've been an avid shaver since the age of 12 and use depilatories and creams (provided they're safe, hypoallergenic, and wont skin me alive). I don't get hair on my legs but I shave the imaginary ones I know are there anyway. The only visible hair I acknowledge is the thick, coarse mass on my head. Luckily I'm not a woman who requires electrolysis, monthly bikini waxes, and who needs to shave her chin. I think my complex about body hair developed during my middle-school years.
Whilst taking a pre-pool shower before the required swim class I resented in the most violent of ways- (we had to get suited up and then rinse off, in a communal shower- any body lotions perfuming our persons, before diving in the pool, so as not to get residue in the water)- I happened to look to my immediate left at one of the more popular girls in my class, rinsing off and talking animatedly to her friends while they waited to walk with her to the swimming pool. She wasn't addressing me at all. She didn't even look in my direction but that didn't stop me from looking in hers, to listen to whatever superficial rant she was rambling on about. I hate myself terribly because I also happened to look down. In the Netherlands, I noticed she had a thick, black, coarse Chia Pet growing out the sides of her green one-piece. The beast couldn't be contained, and so it snaked it's way from each side... mocking me. I was horrified. I averted my eyes quickly and scurried to the pool. Needless to say, that experience scarred me. I rushed home right after school, found a men's Bic razor in the medicine cabinet, and shaved my delicates, arm pits, legs, you name it, I shaved it off. I shaved it off and never looked back. I shaved with passion unbridled.
Fortunately I have minimal amounts of body hair and shave the ones that sprout up a couple times a week. As far liking men with massive amounts of body hair and unruly beards, I prefer long, unkempt beards and hairy backs. That being said, I met a good male friend of mine for a drink a few days ago (his treat). My dear friend. Attractive, well dressed, with a keen fashion sense. My friend of the nice light brown skin (a result of Italy intermingling with Africa). I feel confident relaying this story because I know the likelihood of him reading it is... well... not very likely as he's not technologically savvy nor does he have access to the internet and rarely ever web surfs (knocking on wood). My dear, attractive sweet friend. Whom I've known for a spell and who I always suspected was closeted behind thick winter sweaters, coats, button downs, shoes, and summer apparel. Tucked waaaay in the back behind the "in case I run out of laundry" wear. His choice. His demons to slay. I stand behind him regardless. I just would like to see him happy. I'm a huge supporter of his (prospective) brethren. They make my heart dance and sing. I understand why they choose the rainbow as their symbol. I'm a self-described hag and think it's important for people to be themselves and not hide what they can't help being. I keep my mouth shut regarding such matters, because it's not my place to dictate to someone when they should be themselves. Anyway, my dear friend seemed rather flirty and touchy-feely... leaving me flummoxed. He threw me off even further by relaying an erotic dream he had about me. Despite my confusion, I responded the way any mature adult would. ... "EWWWWWWW!!!!! UUUUGHHHHH!!!"
"You weren't saying that in the dream." He said, coyly.
I clasped his hand in one of mine and used my other to pat his, platonically and friendlike and then quickly changed the subject. I turn 30 in a matter of days. Lately, I've been singing the praises of singledom. I enjoy my solitude more and more and appreciate it for what it is. That being said, I'm not dead nor am I desperate. I don't want to live out the rest of my single days playing a beard. It's not a lifestyle I envisioned for myself and it'd make for a pretty inactive and boring sex life, no? That charade would also be murder on my drain pipes and a bitch to sweep up, as it'd grow wilder and more bedraggled... becoming evermore out of control and hard to manage, that not even Nair or Epilady would be able to contain it.

May 15, 2007

Fureur

Last night, I re-visited the Japanese horror flick, Ju-on: The Grudge and then followed it up with the American rendition, The Grudge. The original version felt as chilling, as if I were watching it for the first time. I still felt goosebumps as I watched the haunting and disturbing images float across the screen. The American remake was slightly less compelling, but wasn't short on providing chills. The Grudge is about a supernatural curse that is born after a wife and her young son die violently, in the grip of rage and sorrow (at the hands of the woman's husband, in a fit of jealous anger). Anybody who comes into contact with the curse, of course dies, causing it to grow and constantly repeat itself in a deadly chain of events... bouncing from person to person and feeding off of them. After watching both films, I began pondering the power and emotion behind passion and rage. I'm a passionate and tempestuous woman. When I was young and precocious, I had a difficult time harnessing those emotions and my anger. As annoying and selfish as preteens and teenagers can be today, I commiserate with them to a certain degree. Their young brains are still developing. That coupled with raging hormones and being caught in the throes of adolescence as well as being on the cusp of adulthood. Sheer insanity. Once we blossom into adults however, we are responsible for our behavior and how we choose to channel passion and rage. Some of us harbor it more than others. Our brains may be developed and common sense should no longer be a foreign concept at this point in our lives, but it still requires a great deal of restraint and grappling, to harness such intense emotions. I know I grapple with it, anyway. There are some with laid back, tranquil personalities sans incident and despite whatever turmoil and anger they may be feeling. What can I say, I'm intense. I boil, I seethe, my insides churn (even if I don't project that emotion externally). Kissing, eating, sex, anger, contentment... all of these wonderful and ugly things, I experience with an unbridled intensity. Passion and rage work in tandem as far, as I'm concerned. And are just as strong if not stronger, than the act of loving. Pondering and realizing all of this, I've come to the conclusion that perhaps this is why I may seem aloof to strangers or to those who haven't gotten to know me completely. What is in fact me showing restraint and being miserly, by not laying my emotions bare, for someone who is unfamiliar to me, to cash in on, and not having earned any of it. That's me, not wasting that passionate anger on the petty and insignificant. This applies to the brief relationships I've had too ... the confusion some of these men have felt, when I didn't chase them down or beg them for their time... me simply opting to move on and not look back. I'm personable and cordial enough and I open myself up, juuuust wide enough. I don't feel compelled to expend that type of energy on someone, with abandon and without thought. That passion, I'd rather save for something (or someone?) exciting and relevant, and channel it in productive ways, and have it paid back to me ten fold. I'd hate to waste passion and rage on the undeserving, only to have the results end up a tortured entity that continues on in a familiar pattern of anger and sorrow.

March 28, 2007

Puppy Love

A couple of days ago, while en route home, I happened upon a little boy and a little girl all of about 7 years old. Ponytail hanging past her shoulders, the little girl ran around a telephone pole, giggling sheepishly as she was being chased by the little boy. She had olive colored skin, long dark hair with tendrils at her temples, and a pink shirt. It just happened to be gorgeous outside. The scene was somewhat cheesy and surreal, really. I rubber necked and watched, as the little girl ran around in a circle around that pole, pink baby doll shirt flying behind her as she flicked her ponytail over her shoulder, squealing and laughing as she tried to escape the young lothario. Hers was the kind of cute, that guaranteed a transition into a comely, young woman. The little boy, brown skinned, with a striped tee shirt on, chuckled as he chased her... pleased with himself even. He was determined to catch his intended, as he ran after her... and around that pole... arms outstretched, hoping to grasp some part of her. He was a handsome little devil... the type of handsome that would allow him to morph into an attractive young man, who would make young women blush and look away from him sheepishly when he accosted them. While the scene was indeed cheesy, it was cute. Cute in its innocence. I watched the two laughing... the young Casanova and pursuee. Hopefully, in about a decade, this young woman wont have to navigate the choppy maze that is dating. Perhaps courtship and chivalry, as it once was and should be, will have made a come back and she wont have to lament over its complexities, as many of us now do. Perhaps the mysteries of love wont be so elusive.

March 25, 2007

Ice, Ice, Baby... Too Cold

The more I get used to the idea of my never having been in love and of being hopelessly single, the more self-absorbed, self-contained, and colder I become.
It's becoming easier for me to be dismissive, aloof, and slightly more... well... meaner. I relish the thought of this brand of cynicism (when it comes to dating and relations), and I don't know if that's a good thing. Even though it feels right, at this juncture of my life. I feel that if someone is not willing to put in the time to chip away at the ice and get to know me and know the warmth that's at the core, then he isn't worth the Q-tip I use to clean up smudged eyeliner with. I'm worth it. I am worth it. Repeating this mantra and actually living, breathing, and knowing it, is why it makes it so easy for me to reign as the Ice Queen. I'm discovering that being genuine, honest, and up front is no longer en vogue anymore, apparently. There's no reason for me to live down to that mode of behavior, however. I'll stay single and I'll have my fun if I feel so inclined to indulge, if this is the case. Disingenuous personalities continue to thrive, and I'm forced to proceed accordingly, so as to side-step the trend, leaving callous casualties in my path. Men, women want what they desire, at the expense of other people's feelings. They deceive and lie to get it. Why lie? It's unnecessary, as the intended may harbor the same desire. So as to feel, grasp, touch, and be touched. My bosom is where heaven and earth meet at the center. It's a wondrous playground to frolic in... once the ice is melted. HE should be so lucky to enjoy such delights, if HE ever surfaces and acts right. Read between the lines, for it extends far beyond what is visible here in this picture, and is meant as a metaphor.

February 16, 2007

Back to Black

After an eventful past couple of weeks, I'm actually just starting to feel relaxed and settled. I am sans pants (yet again) as I type this. I must say though, every bump I hear, every time I hear someone walk by my door, keys jingling in hand, I get nervous and reach for a pair... I try to have some nearby and at the ready, just in case. One never knows. Lately, as I blogged before about living alone, sounds outside my door have started to unnerve me a bit, particularly late at night if I still happen to be up. While I enjoy living alone, I think my nerves are just a bit frazzled and overworked so I've been feeling particularly susceptible to certain vulnerabilities. In any event, I'm feeling better, my heat is restored, I've got running water, without elaborating, I've gotten sexy, and I feel warm and toasty. Valentine's Day has come and gone without leaving any significant or indelible marks. I went to CVS Pharmacy after work, on Valentine's Eve, no less, to purchase some dark chocolates to smother my single sorrows in, and was greeted by a large, undulating mass of frazzled bodies, scrambling to buy cheesy long stemmed chocolate roses, snatch up boxes of Whitman's, and related tacky cards. There were wall-to-wall people, and it just made me feel even more agitated about Valentine's Day. I love to indulge in Cadbury's milk or dark chocolate bars and was chagrined to discover the shelves completely empty! My first thought was to push the store's candy shelves over in a fit of rage but instead, I just sighed heavily to show my annoyance to no one in particular, just to anyone who wanted to note it. I didn't have much of anything to choose from due to this cursed day. No more Toblerones, no more Hershey's dark chocolates with the dried fruit... Someone had to pay dearly for this! I finally settled on a bag of Lindt Dark Chocolate Truffles. One lone bag, and a long wait in line where I fluttered my eyelashes and deadpanned to make my annoyance known... The following day, I awoke to our first (and hopefully last) big snow/ice/sleet storm of the season. I was also jostled wake by my cell phone's ring tone (Aphex Twin's Windowlicker, thank you very much) and my supervisor's voice alerting me not to go in, because we were remaining closed during the storm. There were parking bans all over the state and school closings abound. Good times. I had my chocolates, I had my magic fingers, I had wine, but I couldn't help but think that my evil, bitter, witch ways willed it to snow so that it'd ruin Valentine's Day plans for all... across the region. As a newscaster on Good Morning America, made note of that fact (along with a story about an anti-Valentine's Day special at Crunch fitness facility in NYC), a sinister smile spread across my face... I felt triumphant.