Archive for the ‘ Love, Life, and the Like. ’ Category

I’ve Moved!!!!

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Besos.

A Stroll Down Memory Lane

For as long as I can remember, I’ve been what people call a hoarder. I never wanted to get rid of anything, because I never wanted to lose whatever memory it held, good or bad, and I always wanted to remember exactly how I felt in that moment. We’re talking movie ticket stubs, stuffed animals, class schedules, notes I’d received from friends between classes, even copies of letters that I’ve written to other people. Lately, I’ve been trying to clean house and get rid of a lot of things that I have no need for. It started with all of my belongings that I packed up at my parents’ house when I went away to school. I threw away so many things that probably once had some meaning, but are now insignificant reminders of my childhood. Then, I moved on to my junk drawer filled with old bank statements, unfiled taxes, and a bunch of unsent thank you cards from my high school and college graduations (sorry, mom). Finally, I moved on to my electronic junk. Old term papers and assignments, notices and fliers for the dorm, and emails. I pulled my old Yahoo! account and began to read old emails that would evetually end up in a cyber landfill.

What better place to begin than the folder with all of the emails received from my college boyfriend? Don’t get me wrong, this wasn’t a time-to-do-away-with-all-that-triflin-asshole’s-emails type of thing. To this day, he and I are still really good friends and neither of us have any ill feelings toward the other. It was almost entertaining to go back in time and try to remember what was happening at the time each letter was written, and to try and remember what state of mind I was in when I first read them. To reflect on talk of exams, football games, dorm activities, and our favorite hangouts definitely took me for a stroll down memory lane.  What was most amusing was to read the letters sent during or just after a fight we’d had. The fights and the letters all seemed so intense at the timee, but now I’m left with the question, WHAT WERE WE EVEN TALKING ABOUT???  Aside from the fact that most of what we argued about was so trivial and juvenile, at the time it seemed like war of the worlds. All of our feelings had that same intensity. We talked to each other like we, at 18 knew everything about the world around us and there was nothing that could come between the love we had for one another. We were so certain hat we would marry, but realistically even if we didn’t, we knew that our love would always be with the other.

After completing the last email, my first thought was that we have both changed and grown up so much since then, and I began to wonder how we couldn’t see how immature we were at the time. Then I wondered if 5 years from now, I’ll be asking myself that same question about things that seem to be so serious to me in my dealings with men today.

Are the things that I think are life or death-type feelings at (almost) 26 just as silly as I now feel things were when I was 18? Is what I’m upset about really that big of a deal? Am I able to see various situations for what they really are without letting my intense feelings steer me away from reality? Well, I’d certainly like to think that I am a rational, mature thinker, but I guess I won’t really know the answer until I look back at my blog 5 years from now.  I’d hate to think that the feelings I have and the things I go through that seriously hurt my feelings are trivial and will one day be disregarded just like my old movie ticket stubs. Since its very possible that the feelings I have may one day mean nothing to me, should I even continue to invest more of myself into them? Then again, when will I know when its okay to give 100% toward a lasting romance? Will I ever know, or is everything in the hands of faith and fate? Conflicted.

Dating in Perfect Harmony

It is a pretty well known fact that women are not always expressive, and thus tend to be reactive creatures. Think about it. How many times have you heard of or been in a scenario where a guy asks his gal a very simple, “What’s wrong?” and she almost always replies, “Nothing.”? We all know that this answer is almost always a lie, and the woman just may not be in the mood to discuss what’s on her mind. How many times has that woman then gone on to do something in retaliation of whatever the issue is that she refuses to discuss? It is my hope that one day, one man on this planet will be able to understand that the things she does to aggravate him are a direct result of something he did to aggravate her. So, in order to avoid confusion, I have comprised a sample list of things that a woman may do as a result of the things that her guy does, that she will never bring to his attention:
 
If you don’t ask what’s wrong with her DURING THE GAME, she won’t try and talk to you about her day during the game. She was going to wait until the end, because whatever she has to say can’t be explained during halftime, a time-out, or a commercial break. But you asked, and now you have to listen attentively as she tells you about the morons at work.

If you don’t turn her channel when you’re watching TV, she won’t change the radio station when she’s in your car. You know that feeling in your stomach that you had when she turned the dial at the climax of that Jay-Z song you like? She feels the same way when you reach for the remote right when the Housewives are about to break into a scuffle. Additionally, if you wait until she goes into the bathroom to change her channel, she will do the same thing to the radio station as soon as you step outside to pump the gas.

If you don’t put your crusty man feet on her, she won’t lick your eyeball. Both are extreme violations of one’s person, and any violator should be prepared for drastic repercussions.

If you don’t criticize the way she drives, she won’t criticize the way you fold your laundry or the way you make a sandwich. Know your role, and shut yo mug!

If you don’t criticize braids, weaves, color, and short haircuts, she won’t keep her hair wrapped like Mammie when you have sex. You like  the way her pretty, natural hair looks, well you’re going to have to suffer visual turn-offs from time to time, as they are necessary to maintain natural Black girl hair.

If you don’t call her bourgeois, she won’t expect you to pump her gas. Conversely, if you don’t call her ghetto, she won’t embarass you with her loud mouth in public. Women love to be provoked because they like attention. Just be mindful of the kind of attention you incite.

If you don’t tell her you’re going to be somewhere at a certain time, she won’t expect you to be there at the time you said. Women take everything that you say VERY literally.

If you don’t act like a woman, she won’t call you one. Nobody likes a bitch.

If you don’t eat up every damn thing, she won’t use up all the toilet paper. We all consume different items at different levels. In the end, if you eat more than she does and she uses more TP, it will all even out.

If you don’t question who she’s hanging out with, she won’t go through your phone when you go to the bathroom. Birds of a feather flock together, and if you’re insecure about her stepping out, she’s probably feeling the same way.

Club Chronicles: Did That Really Just Happen?

Usually as the seasons change from summer to fall, I’m able to adjust to the cold pretty well. That has absolutely not been the case this year. All the cold weather is bringing is inconvenience and tighter pockets. With that said, going out to a party has become more taxing and less appealing than ever before. First, I have to warm up the car and waste about $1.50 worth of gas. Then I have to cover up my sexiness with leggings, jeggings, tights, or some other restrictive article made of spandex. Don’t forget your big coat and scarf. By the way, that coat is gonna cost you $5 to check at the club, but only after you take the long, excruciatingly cold walk from the car to the club entrance. What awaits me inside is usually pretty standard. Alcohol, loud music, foul smells, drunkie hoes, big girls who don’t know the laws of personal space, and old men sipping whiskey & water, hoping to get lucky. There is nothing that I can ever do to mentally prepare for the shenanigans I witnessed last Saturday night…..

I’ve frequented many clubs, bars, and lounges in DC, and no matter where you go, you’ll find 2 or 3 types of people that go to every club, no matter the crowd/music genre/cost, just to be seen in their $200 shades and $350 Prada shoes. For these club-goers, the night out is all about being seen in their fancy clothes with big labels all over them in order to feel accepted by the people who aren’t wearing such foolishness. It’s actually pretty common for these over-zealous, wanna-be baller to toss a stack of (one) dollar bills in the air to make it rain on the peasants who can’t afford a VIP table. This particular night brought about a different kind of “making it rain” experience that I’m unfamiliar with. Right as some Wacka Flocka Flame song came on, someone threw a mighty stack of bar napkins to the heavens, and watched it fall on the multitude of puzzled faces. It’s like everyone in unison stopped, looked around, and asked, “Did someone just throw napkins in the air?”. Absolutely priceless. That is, until those napkins reached the wet floor and then got stuck to the bottoms of everyone’s shoes. Everyone looked as if they just left the bathroom with a trail of toilet paper stuck to their shoes.

When women go out together, its fairly obvious that we do not want our circle disturbed by anyone who wants to dance with any member of the circle. Its a pretty well-known fact that one of the girls has to signal that she’d like to dance by turning her left shoulder 90 degrees toward the outside of the circle, in an effort to invite someone nearby to dance with her. Before she gives the signal, it is absolutely rude to assume that she is allowed to dance with anyone not in the girl circle. It is ESPECIALLY rude to pull any member of the circle away because they are more interesting than the rest. By interesting, I mean white. Those white chicks came with us, and I understand how they may stick out and thus attract more attention, but we brought them for a reason: to dance and have fun with us. Those are OUR white girls! How dare you pull them away from our circle and teach them the latest dance of the hip-hop community. Thank you very much, but if Katy and Jenny want to learn how to Dougie, I’LL be the one to teach them!

If the last paragraph wasn’t evident that women stick together and take care of each other when they go out, let me reiterate. When women go out, they stick together and take care of each other. This means that if she didn’t come with you, don’t concern yourself with her. I got this. She may look drunk to you, but she in fact has a tummy ache, and is getting a little dizzy from the cloud of hot must in this club atmosphere. So please, don’t feel compelled to ask me if she’s going to throw up or tell me to get her some water. Mind your business, homegirl, I’m taking care of my friend.

This one was definitely unforgettable, although I’d LOVE to forget every part of this memory. Let me first set the scene: As mentioned, my pal is not feeling so hot, so we’re on the way to the bathroom so she can get herself together. In the bathroom, there are three stalls. One is broken, one is open, and the last is occupied by my pal. In the tiny bathroom, there is a line of about 6 girls, that wraps around to block the door. Need less to say, it was crowded. i’m standing off to the side in front of the broken stall when I see a big girl walk in, wearing a lime green dress and a synthetic weave. She, along with everyone else in line obviously has to potty, but feels that she has to go way more than everyone else. When she sees that nobody will let her cut the line, she proceeds to squat in front of the door to reveal her monkey to all of us, and relieves herself into the glass that used to hold her vodka and cranberry. With a lemon wedge. When the unfortunate cup reached its capacity, the next victim was the floor beneath our feet. That’s right, this dirty bitch pissed on the floor like it was nothing. I am reluctant to say that I watched her from start to finish, because it was like watching a car crash. Horrible, but I just couldn’t look away. After I handed that dirty bitch a wad of paper towels so she wouldn’t touch me or anything around me, I banged on the occupied stall to let my pal know it was time to get the fuck out of there.

With all that said, I have come to the realization that going out in the fall is a terrible idea, and I should just wait until spring hits to resurface.

What. A. Night.

That Belt is Mighty Notchy!

I used to be one of those people who felt entitled to know how many sexual partners the guy I was dating had before me. I felt that it was a matter of determining if he was promiscuous, unhealthy, and/or what value I really had in his life. I’ve learned all of that to be a bunch of bullshit. The time of my life where I inquired about his belt notches was also a time when I was going through his cell phone, getting in my feelings about any friendship he may have with a woman, and doing all the other dumb things that women do when they are insecure and suspicious of their guy. Truth be told, nothing good will ever come of him answering that question that you honestly don’t want to know the answer to. Knowing how many notches he has in his belt is only going to piss you off because each guy’s answer falls into one of the following categories:

A. He’s (allegedly) had too many to count

B. He’s lying because he knows he’s had more than you’ll approve of

C. He’s lying because he feels inexperienced for his age

D. He’s going to decline to answer, because it’s none of your damn business.

I have grown to respect the man who chooses option ‘D’. I feel that at this stage in my life, there is certain information that serves no real purpose to me or relationship with a guy I’m seeing. I’ve also learned that its best not to sweat the small things and go digging for confrontation. Many of my womanly counterparts will surely disagree with my thinking, but I just don’t see what benefit could possibly come of any woman asking her man such a private, intrusive, and useless question. When the nitty comes down to the gritty, asking a person how many sexual partners they’ve had is the MOST disrespectful and MOST personal question you could ever ask someone, in my opinion. To me, that question is just as inappropriate as asking your grandma if she gives head. Not anything I want to think about.

What’s funny is that most women who receive an answer to their question do nothing with the information, even if its not what they were hoping to hear. If a woman is attracted to a man, thinks he’s great company, and likes the way he treats her, do you think she’s going to throw up her deuces when he tells her that she’s notch number 45? I’m going to say no. Most will shrug it off, say it’s in their nature as men, and cross fingers in hopes that number 46 is notched sometime after we’re long gone.

On the converse, if a man were to ask his gal that same dreaded question, he may label her and give her a sack of rocks to kick if she averages more than 2 partners a year (or so).  Side note: I didn’t realize that men passed judgement based on the ‘average’ number of guys she’s been with in a year’s time. A guy once broke down the math to me. He said that since I lost my virginity at 18, and I was 23 (at the time), I was entitled to have reasonably been with about 7 guys in that 5 year span without being considered a ho. By his math, it should have been 10, but he shaved off 3 allowances, because I was in a relationship for a few years. Some would disagree with my friend’s thinking and say that 10 different sexual partners is totally unacceptable and is borderline Superhead status.

The point is, whether I’ve been with 2 or 12, I don’t think a guy that I’m exclusive with wants any information having to do with me having sex with a man other than himself. Doesn’t paint a great picture, and nothing productive or positive will come of it. So, the best thing to do is be safe with each and every person you choose, and avoid asking the silly shit.

Short and Sweet: The #1 Thing a Woman Should Never Have to Do

 

 Buy condoms.

The down time between the heat of the moment, and the time it would take you to go and come back to the store is too long to keep me enticed. Furthermore, do you know how difficult it is as a woman to try and guess what size/brand/type of condom she should purchase???

Man: “Stop and get some rubbers before you get here. I’m out.”

Woman: “Ok, which ones should I get?”

(Every) Man: “Girl, you know I only wear MAGNUMS!”

Woman: “Whatever. Well they have a couple different ones. Any preference?”

Man: “Nah, just get whatever.”

Woman: “Ok, do you wear a large or an EXTRA-LARGE?”

Man: “Don’t play, you know what I wear.”

Woman:  (Embarassing moment of silence) “I left my credit card in the clutch I had last night, can you just go get some?”

See how awkward that can be? Maybe this conversation isn’t the same for everyone, but that’s just how I picture it playing out in my head. What if the store is out of what he normally wears? What’s the next best thing? What if the size he tells me to get is too big for him in my opinion, so I get a smaller size, and then he gives me the screw face when I show up with extra-medium rubbers? All of these things can play a big role in how the rest of the evening plays out. The way I see it, I’ll start buying  a man’s condoms when he starts buying my “girl stuff”. I don’t know what you need, and you don’t know what I need, so everybody just get your own family planning/feminine products. I understand that some would say since both parties are benefitting and in need, either party should be willing to buy them. I totally understand, but that argument is not compelling enough to convince me of anything.

Top 5 Things to Know Before You Date Him Exclusively

As women, it is our responsibility to pick up on clues about a guy to learn who he is and what kind of mate he will be. It’s very easy to have the long talks on the phone and go on awkward let-‘s-get-to-know-each-other-dates. But all you will learn during these encounters is what he wants you to know. Nothing more, nothing less. You learn that at times he can be considerate and chivalrous, and probably has a good heart. You may also learn that he’s selfish and petty, and tries to impress you way too much. If you desire to know more about a guy because you may truly be interested in moving forward in an exclusive and romantic capacity, you have to pay attention to what he does when he thinks you’re not paying attention. Am I the relationship expert? No way. These are just a few questions I ask myself about him that I have found to be useful:

1. What kind of company does he keep?

This first clue is probably the most obvious of the 5, but it still allows you to pick up on things that he may not ordinarily disclose to you. I don’t hang out with foolish and petty people because I don’t see myself as wanting to dwell on being neither foolish nor petty. I don’t hang out with homosexuals because I’m against homosexuality. I don’t hang with whores because I’m not a whore. One of the biggest life lessons that I’ve learned over and over again is that if the company I keep isn’t contributing to me being a better person, even when I’m not making an effort to be the best me that I can, I shouldn’t be around those people. If your guy is surrounding himself with people doing the same old stuff, he’s never going to be able to break away from the pack and do things that actually make sense. He may not be the biggest whore in the group, but I can guarantee you that they won’t discourage his whore-ish behavior. If they are a group of pretentious assholes, and your guy tells you he’s the only one that’s different from his friends, chances are he’s a pretentious liar of an asshole.

2. Is he over-protective of his sister?

Normally, a woman would want to know how her suitor treats his mother in order to gauge how he would treat his mate. This test is a sure fail every time. In my 25 years, I’ve only met one man who has not treated his mother well, and this includes the guys who have crackheads for mothers. A guy will usually always treat his mother well, especially if she’s a single parent, and especially if he doesn’t have a comparable relationship with his father. If you want to know how men treat the women in their lives, take a look at how he treats his sister. If he is over-protective of her, chances are he’s a promiscuous womanizer. These are the guys that have had many women in their beds, and try to protect their sisters from men such as themselves. The brother who loves his sister, has her back, but let’s her breathe trusts her to make good choices, in spite of the elements around her. He knows that there are slutty guys out there that may prey on his sibling, but he is comforted by the trust that he has in her, and will respect her as a woman. If he respects his sister as a woman, he’ll respect his woman as his woman.

3. Why does he like his favorite sports team more than all the rest?

Personally, I don’t trust any Cowboys fans that reside in Washington, D.C., and believe you me, there are a whole lot of them. My best guess is that about 75% of Dallas fans have no true ties to Dallas, to  Texas, to excessively fried foods, or to any member of the team. The reason they love the Cowboys, is because they have no other way to show the utmost disrespect to and disdain for Washington’s home team, the Redskins. They just have a desire to be different for the sake of being different. In my eyes, this translates to an insecurity. People who are different than the norm don’t choose to be, they just are. The ones who try to be different for the sake of being unique are insecure and desire acceptance. I have no doubt in my mind that these Cowboys fans without ties to Texas who reside in D.C. may be some of the same people who wear sunglasses in the club, pledge Greek, and buy attire with overwhelming Gucci symbols ALL OVER them. Instead, try a man who favors his home team, whoever they may be, or favors a particular player that isn’t Lebron James. If your boo boo biscuit is loyal to a team, he better have a damn good reason!

4. Is his favorite drink one that has pineapple juice in it?

I think I’ve made it pretty evident in previous posts that I don’t like men who have questionable masculinity. If we’re out having drinks and he and I both order drinks that come with the same pineapple and cherry garnish, there’s a big problem. Huge. Furthermore, if he orders something like Grand Marnier with pineapple juice, a fruit flavored liquor with the sweetest of juices, I have to question how much bitchassness he’s working with. Again, this is not an occassional drink that I’m referring to, I’m talking about his go-to drink, just as mine is Jack and Coke all day, every day. Now don’t get me wrong. Pineapple juice is a very tasty treat that nature has provided us, and it doesn’t make any man less of a man to drink it. It’s good for you. But if you’re going to taint its goodness with alcohol, at least put some gin in that mofo!

5.  Does he sit through your weekend chick-show marathons?

Granted, I have previously stated that any man who can learn to watch my favorite TV shows and movies is a winner in my book. However, I’m referring to the all day marathons of America’s Next Top Model, Real Housewives of Everywhere, Say Yes to The Dress and anything else on Oxygen and/or Lifetime. Some women might appreciate a guy who will sit quietly while you watch Eva freak out about her tarantula photo shoot for the 17th time, but not me. I might not mind it too much the first time since my control over the TV is always limited. But at  some point, I’m going to ask if there’s something else he should be doing other than being up under me all damn day. Better yet, at what point is he going to finally speak up and ask  to have his balls back your permission to watch something else? I don’t want my man to be the girlfriend I can lay in pajamas with all day while he offers his opinion that NeNe is the fiercest housewife. Go grill something, mow something, or fix something.