June 30, 2011

Being "Awkward" and Dating


If anyone knows me, they know I am addicted to a good web-series (usually the ones created FOR and BY us). Often times, they are better than regular TV sitcoms. So needless to say, I was delighted, I mean OVERJOYED, to run across the web series The Misadventures of Awkward Black Girl by Issa Rae. I was first introduced to her work a LONG time ago with Dorm Diaries...and then her work with The Fly Boyz and their hilarious series The F Word. But Misadventures... spoke to me. I laughed. I cried. I hollered out loud! I loved it. I can relate. I’ve even gone over to her Facebook page to sing her praises. I was a groupie, no doubt…
Cause I’m awkward…
I used to think I was a pretty a-typical black girl. But I’m not. I’m odd. I’m awkward.  I’m even awkward physically. I got this weird Blasian looking face yet I am not half Asian (which disappoints most brothers to say the least when they find out). I am not shaped like a “sista”. I have locs which is odd...but not unusual. It’s awkward for other people to be honest.  I got this weird complexion…Not light...Not dark...Not even medium.
 I got weird tastes in music and even art. (I LIKE art and museums so that pretty much makes me odd.)  I literally think in Haiku sometimes. My IPod has a weird mix of music. I jam to Bossa Nova.  I think Tyler Perry is a coon and Steve Harvey is a fraud *smh*.  I use big words like “commodity” (lol).  I have this weird combo of liberal and moderate views…I LIKE cooking (although I tell most men that I don’t cook because...well...they’ll abuse it).I collect cookbooks and aprons...I can quote Blaxploitation films verbatim...I like being girly and feminine but I also like to be smart and real. I wear makeup…I like heels...I only own 3 pairs of sneakers…and 2 of them are to work out in.
But above all else…I’m awkward in dating. I’m terrible in social settings.  I’m always getting myself in some sort of socially weird situation.  I'm not the greatest dancer. Guys make me nervous and a bumbling idiot, palms sweating and brow furrowed. I’ve spilled enough drinks on myself and had enough food stuck in my teeth to know I’m strange. I snort and laugh (sometimes…ok?!)  I never know how to start or end a conversation. I have no idea how to flirt and I can’t pick up on queues worth a damn. I think I give off a weird vibe because oftentimes dudes will bypass that and go straight for the “kill”. Ugh. *shudders* I like to openly talk about Football and Politics in the same breath.  I keep my “freak” under wraps until it’s time to get down. You’d think I’d be a guy’s dream right? His odd match…
Even despite these oddities, I’ve been told that because women in ATL are a “dime a dozen” and nothing stands out about me (go figure) then that’s probably why I have a hard time dating. Most of this is focused on my physical attributes. One of my guy friends told me “Well…you’re in ATL...you gotta compete with women who are in more shape….who have this and that (materially)…who don’t do the “natural” thing….nothing about you stands out”
Guess he wasn’t paying attention (and that also never stopped him from”trying” me either…Hmpf!) I’m beautiful and ODD! I’m smart and awkward. I’m sexy and I’m strange.  And I guess those things are killing my dating life. If you can’t figure me out…you aren’t going to take the time to figure me out at all. You’ll get bored. You’ll get tired. And you’ll move on.
I think I’d be compared to a Rubik’s cube. At first you look at it…thinking there is NO WAY you can put all these colors together on the same panel. You struggle …you toil. You pick it up…you put it back down. Finally you throw up your hands and say.”To Hell With it”…and go to an easier game...like checkers because you’ve lost interest.  But once you realize that you’ve “got it”…you lose interest to complete the puzzle.
And by that time….I’m gone.
I’ve accepted the fact that I’m awkward. I’ve accepted the fact that these things may not work in a “typical’ dating situation. And that’s ok. I’m not everyone’s Rubik’s Cube
..But I’m sure I’ll be someone’s challenging puzzle for the rest of their lives…

And that gives me a whole lot of hope

June 29, 2011

Relationships, Stages, and Farting

The following is from one of my FAVORITE movies of all time..... Love and Other Disasters. If you ever get a chance...Netflix it.


June 17, 2011

The Proto"Type"

I sat here…had a flashback…

Since turning 30, I ‘ve started to enjoy some simple pleasures. One of which was my Real Simple magazine. I turn and read the very “adult” tips for around the house and recipes, clipping them and stuff like my Mother. The May issue was particularly good. It also featured some hot summer outfits..including bikinis.

Recently, I sat on my couch flipping through the magazine, the guy I was seeing at the time, was peeking at the issue. I saw him out the side of my eye, thinking to myself “He must want some recipes”…and I started chuckling internally.

When I got to the bikini section, his eyes perked up. Of course they would, he’s a man. I turned to a picture of this curvy Latina (or something..) in a bikini. This exact picture actually:



He looked over and said.. ”Hmm…I like that. That’s what I like. I like her”.

Say what???

I cut him a side-eye so hard it would probably cut an artery in his neck cause I surely wanted to throat chop that bastard.  That didn’t really matter cause dude was salivating like a sheep dog. That should have been my sign to run. Instead I fumed silently.

There are certain rules that men need to follow. One of which is not actually VERBALLY saying that another woman is “what you like” or "hot" or whatver. How does that make me feel? Sure, men look at other women. They aren’t dead.  We might even agree that a chick is bad. But you definitely don’t have to be overly enthusiastic about your appreciation for other female forms. You don’t have to be overly stimulated and rude.

But at the same time, it was deeper than just finding a woman attractive.

I looked at the picture. Then looked at him.

Dude...Why the fuck are you even here???

Inside I was furious.  I know you’ve date a Latina..a Korean…and everything in between before you met Nubian me. But…You are sitting here next to a girl who damn sure isn’t some airbrushed, long haired Latina with a curvy shape and abs that you are lusting for. I’m me. Flaws and all. Either you like me or you don’t…and you need to evaluate why you are even dealing with me. Don’t sell yourself short.  Don’t pacify your time just kicking it with me if I’m not what you want. Go get Eva Mendes….don’t kick it with Ledisi (Ok..I don’t look like Led either but we got the same birthday and locs..and we’re brown..*shrug*)

There is a life lesson in all of this. If you are looking for your prototype…hold out. Male or Female. Don’t just settle for anything because it’s there. That doesn’t look good for you. And that just ends up making the other person feel less than.

I felt horrible. I looked at the picture and just stared. Is this what he wants? Then why doesn’t he just go get it! Trust and believe, he wasn’t the first guy who said he “normally didn’t date chicks with locs…or brown girls…or (Fill in the Blank of what I have/am)” But I knew from that day…he was going to be the last.

I often question if I am anyone’s type..at least physically..  It might be hard for someone to fall in love with this face..this smile..these eyes..and these boobs…and hips. Perhaps I am. Perhaps I’m not. I know I don’t and will not be the stand-in for anyone’s “prototype”. That cheapens the relationship.  Most of all, that cheapens ME. That’s like asking for bacon and getting that nasty imitation bacon bits in the jar.

But wait..what am I saying!!?? That’s crazy! It shouldn’t be hard to fall in love with what I have physically…you just WILL because you will. A guy wouldn’t have to force it or reconcile himself to being with me.

Besides…I’m my own prototype. I love the shit outta me. And it took a long time to accept that. And I’ll be damn if I allow someone to waste my time. In the famous words of Fantasia..”If you don’t want me then…don’t talk to me!”  Or be around me. Or wanna see me naked. If I’m not what you want.

Fuck it.

And fuck Real Simple. I’m cancelling my subscription

(Wait..who I am kidding..those recipes are the bomb….LOL)

June 10, 2011

Feeling/Not Feeling

Feeling
·         Summertime
·         Maxi Dresses
·         No more summer school
·         School Refunds (even if they are small)
·         Getting back on the work out tip
·         NYX Narcissus Lipstick (super pink but super cute)
·         Prayer changes things
·         Cuddling
·         Gellato
·         BBQ.
·         Puerto Rico..(trying to get back there this winter)
·         Sitting on my patio w/ an adult drink, my music going, and chilling.
·         Making new friends
·         80s Tee-Shirts
·         Free events in the city….Imma make the most of the summer.
·         Sleeping in just a t-shirt…..his t-shirt.

Not Feeling
·         Ninjas coming out the woodworks and texting you 6 months later. Da fuck. Choke on a dick.
·         Dudes you used to “kick it with” hollering at your homegirl. VIOLATION!
·         My circumstances being used as an “excuse” not to date me. Fuck off. If you want me..you’d make it work.
·         My money is on midget….SHORT!
·         It’s so fucking hot! I wanna shave my head for relief
·         I don’t wanna be over 35 with nothing but solo vacay pics and club pics on my FB profile. Sad..
·         I’m 32 and I really don’t have a BFF or someone who thinks of me as a BFF. Oh well.
·         I’m over ATL. I’m over its dating scene. I’m from here..sh*t has changed for the worse.
·         Crushes that just go nowhere fast.
·         Heartbreak that’s slow and painful. Let it be quick and fast.
·         Not being anyone’s “type” per se. Hookers, hoodrats, and hoes stay winning *smh*
·         How NY and Company bankrupts me every month w/ the deals. LOL
·         Gnats in the summer. Where DO they come from??
·         Another summer…single in the city.

June 6, 2011

I'm not Chicken!


My Soror Y said it best:
"People tell you the truth..it's up to you to listen"

I had a huge wake up call and realized that dude had been telling me the truth the whole time. I've ended things with guys before. I've had my heart broken. But never has it been done in a more callous way than recently. I mean, truth be told, dude is a nice guy. But even nice guys have a streak of asshole in them every now and then. 

This all culminated with our final conversation. After avoiding me for the better part of a week, I asked him what the deal was (to make a long story short because I'm not divulging everything). In addition to going on and on about my obvious "lacks" (i.e. my schedule due to school, the fact that I don't have a car, the excuse of me and my schedule of work and school..etc......), he decided to expound and use all of this unnecessarily convoluted language about what basically amounted to: "You aint it".

But the proverbial nail in the coffin.... He said:  "I mean..I wouldn't MIND being in a relationship".

Say what?

But listen closely as to what that means? "I wouldn't MIND being in a relationship" I mean..not MINDING being in a relationship is the equivalent of trying to make a dinner choice between steak and chicken. I mean..you wouldn't MIND eating chicken..if that's what's offered..if that's what you can settle on...if t hats what you can afford....but what you REALLY want is steak. It's something you don't mind having..but not what you prefer.

In this analogy..I'm the chicken. *sigh*. And quite honest, I think what he prefers is his life and routine..something and someone that wont disrupt that too much. I didn't fit into that equation. (the actual words were.."I'm not sure if you are a FIT in my schedule')  It was too much "work". Too much of an inconvenience. It took too much "planning". Although my mother used to say "something worth having is worth working for"...apparently this was just too much.  What he REALLY should have said was "I wouldn't mind being in a relationship................just not one with you".

I'm a grown up. I'm wise enough to know that one man's chicken dinner..is another man's steakhouse special. Just because I wasn't the right "fit" for him doesn't mean I wont be for another person. I'm def not playing the victim either. I know that I will have someone accept me for where I am RIGHT NOW, flaws and all. "Lack" and all. Don't "settle" for anything...esp when the person on the other end is pretty genuine with how they are giving it to you. Furthermore, I am too sweet and smart a person to be getting emotionally "punked".

But the signs were there. I brushed it off as "well..we were working out the kinks of who were were..". but something never gelled. There was a disconnect somewhere. And I realize that was what it was. He was telling me all along this wasn't for him. The snide. snippy remarks..the fact that he didn't have  (in hindsight) a selfless bone in his body, every conversation focused on HIM....and the finally the fact that he had been so dismissive about me and my goals. My "little blog"...my "little homework" he "couldn't do all of that school".....not to mention because of a 6 year age difference..he called me "oh so young". He was unappreciative of the tremendous sacrifices, rearranging of my schedule and time to talk to or see him. He didn't and couldn't remotely care. When I opened up to talk about things that were deeply personal to me...he didn't react. Just...hardened and calloused.


So we are off that....We (I..me..) are back off dating for a while. I gave it a whole hearted try this time, trying to be open and vulnerable..but guess what..

 I'm not CHICKEN...I'm def  NOT something someone wouldn't MIND being with like I am second fiddle. Matter of fact...they wouldn't have to qualify that at all. I'd be someone some guy would love to hang with..and be understanding of where I am RIGHT NOW. Chicken Dinners are winners (lol)..but if he (or any man) prefers his steak...


...I hope a piece of $100 steak gets lodge in his throat and he chokes.

June 4, 2011

Stuck in 1975




I love my mother. I truly do. She is my best friend. My rock. My ace. My biggest cheerleader and sometimes my biggest critic. But lord knows she can get on my nerves. And truthfully, it’s not intentional at all. My mother has the BEST of all intentions….except when it comes to dating. It’s just that her mind is stuck somewhere between 1970 and 1975- the very last time she’s had to actually DATE.

My mother and I are 27 years apart. That’s a full generation. I’ve been able to talk to my mother about anything. And that includes boys and dating. She was there when I first got my heart broken.  When I got engaged (and she actually knew about the whole thing). And of course, she was there on the day my divorce was final, holding my hand across the table at breakfast while I had tears fall. This isn't to say my mother hasn't had her fair share of heartache and pain. But this is some new age stuff she just simply can't comprehend.

Since I’ve been divorced, my mother has really been an advocate for me getting back out there, taking my time and finding the right person. When I tell her my dating stories antics, she sort of sits back and listens. Her approach can be so old-fashioned. She’s not the kind of lady who says, “Why don’t you call first?” or the type that thinks that men shouldn’t properly court you. She still thinks something is odd when a lady has to pay for a date or has to open her own car door (or any door)…or doesn’t wear a cute dress and lipstick on a date no matter WHAT the activity calls for. (Ok…that’s the one rule I will adhere to.)  She still has faith that guys will do what they say. And that the right, nice guys are out there. Granted, my mother grew up at the height of both civil rights and women’s lib. She also was dealing with a generation of men who rarely had homes absent of fathers or men who didn’t carry the load financially. They were men who were really still were big on “meeting dad and making a good impression”.

God bless her soul. She has no idea that dating has changed since her days. And the way she raised me is coming to bite me in the ass.

The 21st century has brought about a lot of things. Women sometimes can outrank and outearn their male counterparts. Men expect you to come to the table with as much if not MORE than them.  It’s not enough to be smart, beautiful and sweet. You have to have your own and be all put together, even as a woman. She raised me to be this southern, gentle if not demure girl with a tinge of womanism and a dash of modernism.  I’ve tried to tell my mother...there are a million pretty girls. So what I can cook. So what I can be the modern housewife and still earn a living? There are plenty of married/involved, can’t cook, marginally attractive successful women in this world.  You taught me to take my time in a world that is now microwave. No one wants to work for anything worth having. Not when there are tons of options. Not when there are women that can fit casually into their lives. And not when men aren’t looking to have commitment on their radar. Men are not sure if a relationship is a “goal” for their lives. And if you lack in any department, you will suffer in the end.


My mother was born in a small town in Georgia and raised in ATL.  This was pre-Magic City/Fake Black Hollywood.  This was back when ATL was pretty segregated and everyone knew everybody in every little neighborhood. This was before the whole 12:1 ratio that is plaguing women all over this city. My mother has no concept that her baby, her jewel, is just a number in the female lottery. No one wants to feel like an option. And no mother wants to see her daughter treated like an option, especially when you are their pride and joy. Their hopes manifested.  My mother always says “You’ve done things I could only DREAM of doing….go places that I can only DREAM of going”. I just smile, holding back the tears…because I am sure heartbreak wasn’t one of those places she dreamed for me.

I love my mother. I truly do. But she has no idea how hard it is out here. How embarrassing it is to lay all of your feelings on the line to be embarrassed..and hurt. To then have it taken to cyberspace for the world to see. To be highly educated and have goals for yourself, only to be told by the media that these are the reasons that you are singly. That you must lower your standards. That you, black woman, are only worth $5 in your lifetime. And finally, that no one will find you attractive (if you listen to these so-called “psychologist”) although you were raised to see that black is INDEED beautiful. No one can appreciate your beauty but you.
...and your mother.

I love my mother. But she truly has no idea.

We are living in a different time. I’m a dime a dozen I guess. What she thought was a carefully, crafted  one-of-a-kind jewel is actually absolutely expendable.

I love my mother.

But she’ll never understand the 21st century rules of dating/love.

God bless her for trying.

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