It's All Effie's Fault..?!

First of all, I'd like to apologize for my absence in the last several days. Though this post will be brief, I will be back in full force eventually. You see, I've been living my life like a string of parabolas and the down part of the spiral included a trip-turned-unpaid-vacation down the highway to home(though not incredibly pleasurable). Experiencing a loss is something every person has to grow to experience and accept, and I had to turn on my ability to nurture in order to soothe my family's hurt. A huge pet peeve of mine, though, is people constantly questioning whether or not I'm okay; so dear readers, if any one is out there, I guarantee you that I am absolutely fine and I appreciate your thoughts of encouragement in advance.

I left the city to head home last Saturday morning after punching out at work in the morning, and I was hardly tired. As a matter of fact, I ended up staying at work an extra few (okaaaay, thirty) minutes to finish "The Banality of Heterosexism" before getting on the road. Unfortunately for me, my trek was filled with far too many stops (maybe I was tired, maybe I was bored), traffic, and a phone conversation with a former friend.

Somehow, throughout the conversation, the question of my current love life came to light. I'm not the type of person that delves into my personal life with too many people as it relates to my relationships and decision making, and sometimes less is more. Besides elaborating on my being single and content, I also spilled the beans on a rat guy I was seeing, and actually liking, who actually had a hundred couple other "girlfriends", all complete with the same nickname, other than me. I wasn't incredibly heartbroken, as I dumped him weeks before even realizing that he was just awful. That's right, even with the broken dates and bullshit excuses, there was still some inkling of what I thought was a combination of good person/shitty boyfriend left, and it was the most peaceful "I'm just gonna walk away" thing I had ever done.
...until it wasn't.

Yet, the ugly details aren't included and since they don't really matter, I only shared that the person that I very much liked at one point, and even more quickly bounced back from, turned out to be the very deserving object of my disgust.

The friend on the phone, a Black man himself, allowed me into the world of "how Black men think"; as he began to postulate, I rolled my eyes all the way down ninety five and even caught myself almost kicking my feet up on the dash and munching on popcorn.

The gospel according to him was as follows: since I am a plus sized lady, Black men think that I am easily controlled as a result of a lack of self esteem. Therefore, if I don't want to be treated like shit, I need to be a size two. Easy enough formula, right? As he expanded upon his theory, I did not find myself upset at his preachy "I know Black men as a Black man"-itudes; I giggled because I thought it to be one of the sillier things I had heard. His explanation for this was the "fact" that the only Black men I am to ever attract (by my own fault, no doubt) are looking for a woman that they can impose their views on; as a matter of fact, he even threw this little diddy in the mix: when a Black man dates a Black woman, she's the most shapely, finest goddess that he can find -- but when they go after white women (again, to impose upon), they're always "nasty looking". Yes, folks: it was all Effie's fault that Curtis dogged her

...word? Well, on top of this conversation being utterly random and disgustingly stitched together, I find a few faults with this logic:

1. That some Black men take offense to this idea that any Black man is or could ever be controlling (ergo, abusive) in one context, but will justify it in another.
2. That this one Black man speaks for the lot of Black men.
3. That I'll never have/have never had a "successful" relationship because of my appearance and not my other attributes.
4. That plus-sized = ugly, lowered self-esteem having wenches who are chosen by these men.
5. That aforementioned wenches never have a say in with whom they choose to enter relationships.
6. That skinny women do not have self esteem issues or relationship problems.
7. That non-"nasty looking" white women are not interested in or dating Black men.
8. That plus-sized women are of less value than average-to-skinny women.
9. That any one person is to blame for another party's actions.
10. That there are not men (or for argument's sake, women) who enjoy a little more..erm..fluff.

...and that is just to name a few. Now, I didn't take this as a personal attack because obviously, I think this is utter foolishness. Could I stand to drop a few lbs? Sure, but when I do, it isn't because I'm attempting to draw attention from another person. I don't think that I should even seem combative in saying that I date; I've documented a few dates on here on the blog and the people that I encounter are interesting enough. I don't think I should even have to harp on the fact that I'm satisfied with the person that I am/am becoming, and that my singlehood is by my own volition. Sure, we would all very much enjoy companionship, but having no anchor to anything right now (and being the personable anti-social that I tend to be), I can up and move away as I am currently contemplating any time the mood strikes. And honestly, I believe I'm always "fly" (actually a nickname given to me by an former boyfriend) and of all the attributes that might keep me single - Black power fueled with feminism, opinionated nature, inability to produce a successful joke, Billy-Bad-Assedness, heavy flow (read: straight-up-inappropriateness when I'm trying to tell a joke, ha!) - my appearance is the least of my concerns. Lastly, I don't think that I should have to elaborate on the fact that the way I am online - forward, opinionated, sometimes-bitchy (and even sometimes offending) - is exactly the way I am when I click "sign out" - which pretty much rules the no-confidence-and-lowered-self-esteem malarkey instantly. More than anything, this was all very amusing before I opted to hit him with the shrug-and-"I'mma let you finish"-move; I hung up and continued rolling down 95 as pleasantly as I began my journey.

I don't have control over another person's actions; that mickey-fickey decided for himself to cheat and go in the direction that he would - and he has total ownership of that. Other people's problems are...well, they're their problems.

Know that. Smile. Be Righteous.

Sexual Deviants Need Not Apply

Sula: I'm speechless. Like...
Me: Yeah, I know.
Sula: I mean...
Me: ..I know. So, uhm...yeah.
Sula: I really...I mean...
Me:...that's when I knew.
Sula: I didn't see that coming at all...

As old Sophia Petrillo says, picture it:
A few weeks ago, I met a guy who actually seemed pretty cool. After deciding that I just wanted to meet people without any expectations of anything more serious happening, I was really excited that I met someone who seemed to have a very fun and lively personality. We exchanged numbers and began communicating from there; admittedly, he got extra points for being so cool about hearing my trash-talk during our first conversation, and he's so animated and funny to maintain a conversation with.

We went out recently, but it was a really rough day for me. I figured, though, that I would definitely give him another shot at hanging out because he knew the things that unexpectedly ruined my day and he seemed really sincere about offering support in any way.

We had lunch the first day, and it went incredibly well. We parted ways and after a while, he began texting me. I think that he must have been feeling extra flirtatious and wanted to test his boundaries, and that's fine because I have no problem correcting certain behaviors in awkward or inappropriate situations. He began telling me how gorgeous I looked, and even made a joke(?) that the waitress at the restaurant was checking me out. I tried to keep the conversation tame, but somehow he decided to be bold and it went left.

...and that is when he revealed to me that he enjoys watching bestiality porn.

He said he wasn't into acting it out or actually seeing anyone he knows act it out, but that he enjoys watching it has much as he enjoys watching lesbian porn.

Now, in the time I've ever discussed pornography with anybody (including with such issues as ethnically insensitive acts and the objectification of women) I have nevereverevereverevereverEVER had anyone come out of the closet as a deviant saying, "yeah, I love the type of porn where people are fxcking animals." Ever. Naturally, I deflected and just ignored his messages.

What the hell does one even say to that? Before we even had this conversation, I had an idea that our hanging out would not really be on a boyfriend-girlfriend level and I was fine with it, but do I really want to spend any amount of time with someone that...likes bestiality? Like, I don't even know what to say to that...(confused face)

Now, let's discuss bestiality for a minute. I think that many people are anti-anything a lot of times without the ability to articulate why they feel a certain way about a taboo. This is how, in my opinion, morons so easily equate consensual non-heterosexual relationships with things like zoophilia; they just know that they wouldn't do it without understanding why not. In my opinion, the defenseless need protecton and I have very strong views on sexual assault, including engaging in sexual activities with those who don't truly have a say-so in the matter. Animals aren't equipped with the mental capacity to be able to say "I don't really think this is right" or the ability to give verbal/non-verbal cues as to their level of discomfort with the situation. Further, engaging in sexual behavior with animals is similar to sexually abusing children, the elderly, the physically/mentally-disabled, or any other group that is unable to protect themselves. As such, someone coming out of the closet to me about enjoying Tijuana horse shows is along the same lines as someone saying "I only like kiddy porn; I don't actually have sex with children!"

No, but seriously.

So what do you even say to that? Is it okay to just spend time with someone..like that if you're for sure about it never progressing to a certain point? Further, what is it about me that attracts this type of person? (confused face, again)

I..don't..really..get it.

Edit: Thanks to @dredpiraterob for much of the conversation that inspired my writing this post. I'm not sure that I'd have fleshed out these ideas a bit more without discussing the above incident with him.

Real Love: I Am Not a Groupie!

I was going to write a late post on Earth Day and the festivities on the National Mall a few weeks ago, but I'm having a difficult time writing something well-rounded and informative. While I'm sure I got more of a message out of the activities meant to encourage stronger climate legislation and environmentally responsible practices than the majority of the potheads people in attendance, I can't really see past the man (men?) of my dreams that were there. So, in lieu of writing something incredibly stimulating, I'm going to have to discuss the man I'm pretty sure is my soul-mate. Yes? Cool! I took these photos from the Earth Day festivities.

I fell for Ahmir Khalib "?uestlove" Thompson when I was ten years old. I can't name an exact instant; I just remember overhearing my pops playing The Roots around the house, and being the music snob that I am, I was into it. Kids in junior high didn't understand, and it sucks to be closeted when you're the only person that's into something real-real. Tariq "Black Thought" Trotter has probably given me a very high percentage of my all-time favorite quotes. The music is so real.

It isn't his fame or musicianship though. I swear. I know that groupies try to rationalize their infatuation of whichever celebrity that happens to be the object of their affection, but I promise. He's a real musician: capable of acknowledging, dissecting, respecting, and overstanding the different layers in different types of music. I enjoy fellow music geeks; I read music and I, again, began school as a music major. I love the minds of musicians, especially ones who actually play an instrument. Yes, that sounds silly of me since I began school as a vocal music major. While I consider my voice to be my best instrument, I play a little guitar and piano and I probably have a minor version of synesthesia.

Aside from that, he's well spoken and read, and a technology nerd. Plus he's politically active and confident. I love hearing him speak. Whenever I see him, I get butterflies! Whenever he plays a really bad ass solo? I go crazy! I love reading his tweets (thaaaaaat sounds groupie-esque, I'll give you that). Everything about what I know of him just makes me want to sing; and...in my sometimes warped mind, he's my soul-mate.

Now all I have to do is convince him of that so that we can fall in love together, wed and have a dozen evil genius musically inclined children. Anybody wanna help? Any takers?...whatever then!

Be Righteous.

The Dating Game Revisited

I work nights. Not just nights, but nights on the weekend. And I'm okay with that, because my priority is making money and becoming (more) established on my journey. I've been meeting a few losers folks here and there, but I still don't find myself going out much. At any rate, a couple of months ago I met a guy from the islands at a restaurant and we got into a political discussion about Black conservatives. We exchanged numbers and began communication; there was no instant attraction on my part, and I was seeing a 30-year-old-kid someone, but it's nice to know someone in the area. I'm all about meeting people - especially people who are able to actually vocalize an opinion on anything political.

While at work Saturday night, and totally out of the blue, this guy sends some texts asking me to come over after I got off at 8am Sunday morning. I didn't think much of it, though we actually never hung out beyond the conversation at the restaurant. It didn't take much, but I acquiesced. I mean, what else do I have to do on a Sunday after work? He lives five minutes away from my house, too, so it wasn't like I was inconveniently making my way though traffic to spend thirty minutes with him. So, I went, expecting coffee and breakfast. It wasn't a date but my naivete thought that perhaps we'd be kickin' it and discussing Climate Legislation over fresh fruit. Right?

Well, I walk up the stairs to the apartment. We talked about life, caught up a little bit and all. His apartment looks as though he just moved in - he has an airbed in the living room and a huge plasma tv there as well, but the only chairs are at the bar. And then..he asked for a hug and grabbed my butt! Of course I corrected his behavior and walked to the other side of the room for my bottled water. And...I spied with my little eye a huge Lord and Taylor bag (with dresses hanging out), an Arden B. bag, and a bottle of Japanese Cherry Blossom lotion (and I know my Bath and Body Works!).

Now, I wasn't as naive to think "well, maybe he has a roommate" since he smelled like the lotion. I excused myself to the restroom, disgusted, and turned the sink on so that I could snoop around brainstorm. I'm a cop's kid; I have quirky antics and move into CSI-mode when I'm trying to find out info about people. As a matter of fact, I've researched guys that have been interested in my best friend before she decided whether or not she wanted to go out with them; it isn't an obsession and I'm not a female Hitch and I'm not big on prejudgments -- I just think that knowing certain things about people before involving yourself with them could save a stress headache and a lot of time. Further, even guys like my ex-boyfriend that present as "normal", well balanced and successful individuals can turn out to be total toads. Ask me how I know?

I don't have trust issues until I've been faced with evidence that I shouldn't trust someone. In a flash, I pulled back the shower curtain - only one towel, no women's body wash. I looked under the sink and still nothing. But then, I noticed shed hair on the bathroom floor and the sink. Having been a sister with relaxed hair at one point in my life, I know how disgustingly non-natural hair sheds once you brush it. My 58-second bathroom sweep was good enough for me, and I flushed and walked out. I passed a room with a door closed and walked back to the living room area, to find this Negro stretched out on the airbed; he was fully clothed. I wasn't interested in sitting, just because I kinda knew where it was headed. And then my detective eye spotted something else - two hairpins on the opposite side of the bed.

I expressed that I was getting tired from working all night and that I was going to go. He hugged me and there it was: I got poked, and saw in that instant a condom was on the airbed where he was laying. Huh? Negro, PLEASE! Who cares if you live a magnum lifestyle? You're a jerk. And I am leaving. The more I recite this story, the sicker I get with myself for even thinking that breakfast was a rational option at 9am on Sunday morning.

I suppose this story is the foundation for a larger question that is not as long winded; my question to you is...SERIOUSLY??

It's The Small Things...:)

There's something about taking advantage of the small things in life that lends a sense of liberation. For instance, every now and then likewhenhellfreezesover, I'll turn my Blackberry off. Or cut all of my hair off (though that's a different sense of liberation all together!). Janet Jackson and Luther Vandross had a song once upon a time, and you know something? They were right: the best things in life are free. To me, though, there is absolutely nothing in life like deleting someone's number from your phone.

Okay, listen. I'm not typically into passive-aggressive bullshit. It isn't my style. There's very little about me that says "passive". There's just nothing like going through my phonebook and saying: "Self, I'm gonna delete so-and-so's number since we don't ever talk at all any more." See? No beef there, right?

Truth be told, it always feels best when you have a vendetta; real or imaginary, it's all the same. The emotion has to be there. Can I be real, son? Like real-real? My favorite part about ending any sort of relationship is looking at my phone, after I've said everything I needed to say, and proclaiming aloud (but not to the person because once I've decided to delete their number, there's no more room for an argument): "Eff YOU, this is ME being the bigger person; I'm taking control of the situaton and moving forward without you! Youaretheweakestlink - GOODBYE!"

That shit is real. It's therapy. I'd like to challenge everyone that gets caught up with a loser to try it. You don't even have to be as gully as I am with it. Just take a deep breath, make your mind up and say "if I can delete this number, I can delete this jerk out of my life."

Some ties are okay to cut. Some stress needs to be released. And if you can't make a drastic change like cutting off all your hair or quitting your jobs and moving states away semi-spontaneously, I'd suggest opening your address book, finding the person you never speak to (or the most worthless mofo in your life), and deleting their number. Especially if they've begun to fall in your liability column. I do believe in direct communication, but some things are circumstantial. And anyway, it's waaaaay better than a text message break-up, no?

To the small things in life -- cheers!

Contemporary Favorites: Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind

One of my all-time favorite contemporary films is "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind" and I'd be willing to offer that every person who has ever had a failed relationship must see it. Beyond the plot which is unique in itself, I love the utilization of non-linear narration films/series of films (and books - to those of you who know of my utter adoration of "The Time Traveler's Wife"). I find it to be engaging and it really brings me into the plot because I have to make sense of the pieces. The movies that I tend to "favorite" are the ones I own two copies of and at one point or another, watch every night for comfort, and I definitely own two copies of this one.

For an indy film, it has an all star cast: Jim Carrey, Kate Winslet, Kirsten Dunst, Elijah Wood, Mark Ruffalo, Tom Wilkinson, and David Cross. I love Jim Carrey. I have all of his movies and I think that he is underrated as a "serious" actor versus a comedian. The rest of the cast seem to be a great bunch and I don't feel as though there was forced chemistry between the actors in the film.

Plot. The plot, to me, opens up a realistic-ish sci-fi complication to human romantic relationships - would you "erase" someone from your memory? The story focuses in on Joel and Clementine's relationship and a company that you can pay to have a person permanently removed from your memory. Joel and Clementine have real chemistry, but for multiple reasons (Clementine's reckless spontaneity, Joel's wish-washy emotional unavailability) they just don't work out. It happens to the best of relationships; people are unwilling to grow or change and they lose and, ultimately, realize it is a loss in the 9th inning. The movie shows the erasure of memories from Joel's mind - which is retaliatory to Clementine's erasing him first - and through the unraveling of fussing, detachment, separation and other bad memories come the pleasant memories of the initial infatuation. Once Joel (and the image of Clementine in his memory) realizes that he doesn't want to erase her, he cannot be awakened through the process, and so in his love-sick slumber, they spend the movie hiding in other memories and running away from the machine that will, ultimately, zap his mind and make his life Clementine-free. The plot twist, however, is that..it doesn't.

Being a classic over-thinker, I wondered through this movie if I would be willing to have someone erased from my memory. I highly doubt it, because I'm the person that believes we grow from the experiences that we have with good people and bad people, and our current character depends on our past. Yet, there's always the desire to get rid of someone for good; outside of romantic relationships, who wants to remember negative traumatic events and the people (or animals) leading to them? Who wants to deal with being caught in the cycle of a break-up that just won't break? That's so passe, and we know how I feel about passe-bullshit.

It also has one of my favorite quotes: "I'm not a concept; I'm just a fucked-up girl who's looking for her own peace of mind -- don't assign me yours."

It's a good one.

Am I Trippin'?

I often find that, in relationships, I try to see the good in people. I loathe excuses and I don't settle for less than I feel my worth to be. Yet, once I decide upon "liking" a person, I'm convinced that they will always consistently maintain the positive qualities that I initially saw in them. Call me crazy, but I hold people to the same expectation that I try to hold myself: remain sincere and change for the better.

I don't think that good people change for the bad (or exhibit their lacking) overnight; and as a matter of fact, I think that more often than not, the changes are unintentional. Of course, this begs the question of how "good" they really are since they spiraled to a real of this different persona, but I'd prefer to see the light in people. I also think that, in relationships, some people put on a facade and exaggerate their better qualities (or the qualities that you want to see) and it fades because it's difficult to push yourself to be a person that you aren't. Na'mean? Anyway, call me crazy but I like to be real-real all the time. Sometimes relationships don't work. They don't have to end negatively. And they can certainly be resolved by two responsible adult persons amiably if both people are upfront and direct, yet respectful.

Despite whatever way my last relationship ended (and without ultimately blasting my own business and appearing disrespectful), I'm well versed in the art of letting people go and moving forward. I'm risiliant; and I have always been able to weather any storm. As a matter of fact, I was explaining my new job to a friend of mine, and explained to him that some people were just born to deal with trauma. And I'm that person; I've dealth with every end and aspect of it and I'm built for it.

I went on a literal trip today, and eased down the road and away from the city to a cozier, more familiar city states away that I am proud to call the place of my origins. I figured it was an awesome opportunity; my uncle happened to be driving down for the weekend and I had a free-99 free ride. My uncle and I have a wonderful relationship; he is like a father to me. I do have my own father that I love very much, yet if I should ever take the plunge get married, I want them both to walk me down the aisle. Though I am very private, I can confide in him. He knows my attitude and origins. He knows who I am, without needing the unneccesary details about most of my relationships. He does know a few exes, and doesn't care of them but he (usually) respects the fact that I can fight my own battles.

So what are the odds that over an hour south of the place where I currently reside, my uncle decides to stop in a town I hadn't heard of until a few months prior to get coffee. The town where my ex works. Where I first met him. Where I was convinced that, though I felt as if I had been duped, I could grow to enjoy being with him. When I just knew he was a wonderful, relatively "perfect" guy, even in his imperfections. I closed my eyes for a second and pictured the moment I met him. I could feel that instant. It was a happy moment. I can hear him in my head, "what are you doing driving this big truck?" I remember the butterflies I felt. And the blushing. I can tell you what he wore. I can tell you, with confidence, that he was happy.

It was different before the change, whenever or however it occured. Intentionally or unintentionally. It was a different time, a time before the mine fields and repeated forgiveness of neglect. I was over the relationship, having removed myself from it. I was totally over it, but when we got off the highway, I could only think of him. Of a different version of "us".

My mind raced. The second we pulled off at the exit, the good I saw in him, the transition to the bad, the sour taste he left in my mouth after unfulfilled promises, the dissatisfaction with more personal situations. These thoughts all came to me, swirled in my mind at once and created a quilt of unusual emotions: I wasn't confused a bit. I don't want him after how he regarded me for attempting to be respectful about his shortcomings. I don't want him after all the nights I sat in the house on dates that were broken. I don't want him after he backed me into a corner so that I would break up with him. Yet and still, the thoughts swirled, mixing the amazing qualities I saw in him initially with the way things were.What if I run into him. What if he took a Starbucks run at the exact same instant I decided upon a latte? No Starbucks for me then, I'll have coconut water. What if, in the second I dashed through the supermarket, trying not to miss my ride to the good old Dixie, I bumped into him on the foreign foods aisle? How would I feel? Would I want to kiss him? Would I want to break his face? Would I be able to ignore him? What if, when we stopped for gas at the station he once directed me to, he was also pumping gas? If I saw him would he ignore me? Probably. Would I be pissed at him for not being able to behave as an adult and discuss an issue with me? Would my uncle, always ready to challenge an opposing fraternity member, be ready to jack him up for leaving his favorite niece bitter? Would he push me to the dark side with his refusal to remain real with me? I can probably see his car from here...would he respond if I sent him a message?

While this seems as though it would have been drawn out, it wasn't. These thoughts all hit me for a split second and I took a deep breath and traveled on for coconut water. Being the initiator, I wasn't upset by the break-up, but by the change. I wasn't crying or caught up, and my bounceback only took a minute: instead of sitting in the house miserable for a change, I was out and enjoying life. It was a beautiful Spring in the District and I was enjoying it with good company and family.

I'm not crazy. I don't like dramatic break-ups or unnecessary performances that draw more attention to a situation than is required. I don't believe in focusing on the bad; I never once muttered all of the bad to my best girlfriends, even. What's the point? I'm only human. I want to believe that he is too.

We pressed on. On through our journey, our trip to the South. And in that instant, I pressed on through my trip. I'm glad it's over.

Weekend Cypher

While most of my friends and family enjoyed their religious festivities, I had one of the best weekends I've had since moving. My personal rundown? Well, let's see: three dates in two days (hey, a rolling stone gathers no moss), movies and family time, beautiful warm weather, great music and...becoming employed!! Beyond that, I remedied a little pest problem and it actually kick started the kickassery of my weekend.

Other than that, some happenings of the weekend in my cypher include:

The Roots dropping a J Dilla tribute album, downloadable for free here

The 42nd anniversary of the Assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

The iPad drops. Not sure how interested I am, but Dwight K. Schrute Rainn Wilson just tweeted: "I wish my iPad were smaller and made calls, or that it folded up and had a keyboard attached." Ha!

Last week, Common posted the Just Wright Mixtape on his blog, another free download, and it is sooooo good. Love me a good R&B Mixtape!

Erykah Badu is getting heat for her new video...faces a fine of $500. (I also awakened Sunday morning to find that one of my peoples had delivered the new album -along with tons of other great music- to me. LOVE it!)

Earthquakes hit SoCal and Mexico, and also Northern California

Stephanie Meyer is putting out another vampire book (based on a minor character mentioned in Eclipse) for my fellow Twi-hards. I'm. So. Stoked.

And the MLB season is upon us. Even though the Yankees lost last night, I'm super excited. Plenty of games to go, Yanks! Let's win-win-win!

...other than that, the world is still a crazy place and I'm still the same ol' G. See?

All My Single Ladies...!

I promise you that this is not another Beyonce post. It looks like I've mustered up the motivation to do a follow-up on the former posts I've worked on about love and relationships! I'm no expert and I can only express the thoughts that swirl through this mind of mine (and I have a five-head, so there's room for many thoughts). I woke up feeling ultra-inspired when I was speaking to my aunt about how self-accepting I have become since my younger years. Yet, in my "this is who I am" rant, I began wonder silently if my uniqueness makes others perceive me as a diamond or a black sheep?

It would seem that as of late, everyone is concerned with strong and successful Black women; our dating habits, our success rate in relationships, our so-called "sacrifice" of a family for a successful career. I don't think this scrutiny is necessarily "new", but I think the focus of it has shifted. Instead of media outlets having Black women discuss how a "good (Black) man is so hard to find" and essentially demonizing my brothers (and this has been done for hundreds of years here), it's turned the page and made Black women into victims and, essentially, given a nudge that we should become more open to interracial dating. I don't necessarily see a major problem with this beyond the fact that it seems to be a major worry of members in other communities, and the fact that my conspiracy theorist mindset has noticed that this increase has only been since we have a Black/biracial President and Black first lady.

At any rate, I've expressed who I am in regards to relationships here and there and every where. I'm single. And I enjoy being single. I'm very focused on so much more than love, and while I've not entirely been busy here lately, I'm certainly used to having my very special form of organization going on in my life (many people refer to it as chaos though). I know I have a lot of positive attributes: I'm intelligent and free-minded, perfectly capable of forming my own opinions and able to vocalize an "I don't know" where necessary. I don't have children (not that that is a negative attribute at all), I'm interested in so many different things and I love to do a lot. I enjoy learning, I enjoy working, I enjoy being happy and loving myself. I don't have a problem with relationships. The thing about me that most people interested find appealing is this: I am not perfect, and I don't try to convince people that my positive attributes are the entire me. If a great guy comes along and is interested, I am open to seeing where it goes (even if that's unbelievable from my encounters I've documented in my new city thus far).

I know that people don't always "mesh" no matter how much you want. I'm not into genderalizations, but I do know that the human thing to do is to shape opinions based on the experiences that we have. F'rinstance, I was seeing a guy that I thought was pretty amazing. I do still think he's a great guy, though my girlfriends may be a little less forgiving than I. Everything was going great, and he just disappears without notice for a week. Come to find out, he also thinks I'm pretty perfect for him but the long and short of it tends to deal with the conditions in either of our lives: he's very busy and has things going on so it's poor timing for him, and I'm currently in a huge state of metamorphosis. But, daaaamn...how many times does someone find their counterpart and are able to maintain something genuine without (many) qualms? Further, are there ever "perfect" conditions for a relationship, despite whether or not the other person is the "perfect" mate for you?

Another issue that I feel plagued by is my overall (lack of) a religious situation. Being a Black Woman non-theist is difficult; I've met many good guys, interested or not, but they all seem to have in common one major desire: a belief in God. Or, more specifically, Jesus. I've dated Muslim men, Jewish men, and even a Christian guy who was a son-of-a-preacher-man. Sadly and very sincerely, religiosity has, historically, played a major role in Black America. And you know, from a historical stand-point, I can totally respect that. I don't harp on a good man being hard to find because I'm not looking for a good man; I would like to think that good people get the love they deserve eventually. But I have to admit, I've not met or dated any Black men who were non-theists, and only a handful I've met have been open to dating someone with a different religious affiliation.

So, there..my two major issues are questions concerning the difficulty of Black women who are non-theists/non-religious finding "true" love, and why even the good guys tend to move away from good women -- even if they find them to be perfect.

Be Righteous.

Also, side note: I began this post wanting to elaborate and "go in" on aspects of relationships and other factors of Black dating that the media has yet to identify, but I took a break in writing to do real-life stuff. I typically create my posts in one sitting, as it is less difficult for me to stay on task, and I lost track of my original point (can't you tell?). And I'm currently under the influence of alcohol. Surprise.

She's Just Not That Into You...

Happy Friday!

So far, however, in my newest adventures in wonderland, I've met a few guys. Well, more than a few: wherever I go, I get some guy, sensing I'm not originally from the area, looking to give me their number. Having been kind-of seeing someone for a little while though (and guessing the depth of our relationship all the while), I haven't called any of them. All though, even if I wasn't involved-ish, I'd likely not call any of the competing contenders, for the following reasons:

Guy at grocery store: you can't follow me around the specialty market that I drive twenty minutes to and follow me around attempting to get personal information from me. I don't care if you choose to share information about you and your ex-wife, or not wanting to live in the area that I currently live in because of your disdain for Black people. I'm not calling you because I've only met you twice and you've come on way too strong. Waaaaaaay too strong. Now I have to find a new location to go to.

Guy who repaired my computer: you kept asking awkward questions about who I am, and every time I tried to ignore you (taking phone calls in another room, turning the TV up) you just kept trying. While you did a heck of a job on my computer, you told me it would take two hours. You stayed an extra three just trying to talk to me...and I needed my computer to handle business.

Guy at gas station: you were really cute. I walked to my car, you honked the horn and I got in my car...and you walked up and said "Oh, I'm not gonna hold you up, you can just take my number." Charming. I must confess, I considered calling you. Okay, I did...and didn't get an answer. I wasn't sweating it since it was two days after I moved; but since my call wasn't returned I won't call back.

Guy at 7/11: every time I walk in, you ask if I'm seeing someone. And every time I say yes. To which you reply "well, just stop seeing him." Uhh..that's respectful..

Guy on train: You started the conversation with "I didn't want to interrupt you, since you were listening to music..." Well then, why are you interrupting me while I'm trying to listen to music?

Guy #2 on train: "Damn you're sexy." You look like you're twelve, and you're drunk. Please stop looking at me, it's making me uncomfortable.

Guy I talked to last night: I asked what you did for a living. You said "I'm a mack." Uhh..insert nervous laughter. You said, "you're laughing, I'm serious; I can put you to work." Please don't talk to me again. Ever.

This post might seem jacked up, but it is for sheer amusement, and I'm human. Dating is funny because people have certain standards, and I'm really patient with my own standards. I'm also equally patient while in a relationship (or something like it) and am always willing to compromise. I love myself enough to be firm in knowing what I deserve, though. The person that I've taken a liking to isn't included in this post because I do actually like him.

I'm not one of those girls that gets bitter and swears off relationships. I've opted to be single for a couple of years to strengthen the relationship with myself, and I'm glad I did because I've learned that I can (and am obligated to) fulfill myself in ways that another human being cannot. Still, as alluded to in the previous dating posts, everyone wants love. I met a guy in a club not too long ago and we began corresponding shortly after and he told me that the odds are against me with finding a mate because I bring too much to the table and it's intimidating to men and that was the stupidest thing I'd ever heard. I don't have any gripes with where I am currently; I really can't wait to start working again though.

Be Righteous.