I have friendship baggage

For many years I've endured fair weather, hateful, catty, inconsiderate, small-minded friends and they've taken their toll on my spirit. In essence, none of them were friends. Just a bunch of folks I knew. So one by one I broke up with them, found my distance and put my dukes up, ready for the next faux friend to come my way. Then I met some halfway decent folks (PG, JS, LW...) and while they are great to me in that humanly flawed way, I still sort of have my dukes up, just in case :(

I'm becoming a little more trusting but I still have a very low tolerance for bullshit. My relationship with those who haven't quite proven themselves trustworthy remains precariously perched on the edge of doom. Anything even remotely resembling foolishness could end it all in the blink of an eye. No, I take that back. I'm still, by nature, a very giving and forgiving person so my 3 strikes rule usually stands...and expands, given whatever the circumstances are.

Anyway, I'm highly sensitive when it comes to friendship. I don't take it lightly at all. I'm a Judy Blume novel come to life and I expect my friends to be there for me the way that I'm there for them. And if they can't, well, then I don't consider them a friend and sometimes we can't even be associates.

The biggest part of being a friend is being there for someone when it doesn't suit YOU, throughout all types of weather (c) Me.

Plans for the next 6-9 months

In no particular order...

- Travel to Jamaica

- Finish birthing the elephant

- hang a chandelier by myself

- learn roller derby

- Make a few new friends

- perfect my sales pitch

- buy a bike and ride it

- reevaluate my goals and the steps I need to take to achieve them

- finish that thing I started...and then start another one

Today was a rough day for me but I survived it (thank God). Hopefully, tomorrow will be better.

Good night

Skate or die?

So I tried dodgeball a while back and it was pretty cool. But I think I want to try roller derby next :D

http://derbydolls.com/la

The L.A. Ri-ettes or the Tough Cookies, maybe.

Of course, I'll go to a match first, though.

There’s a bridal shop on Fair Oaks Avenue not too far from my house that I used to pass every morning on my way to work, and every day without fail I’d slow down a little bit to admire the dresses in the window and fantasize about my dream wedding and my ideal relationship. Perhaps it was a steady diet of Cinderella stories growing up that caused me to do that then and remain hopeful now, even if just a little bit, that fairy tales do exist. I was in a relationship at the time that I’d been in since I was in high school. Although I hated to admit this, it was sort of just like my grandmother said. She said that women often settle with who wants to settle with them, and not the other way around. She told my mother and my aunts to love who loves you. When my mother first told me this story I was outraged because it contradicted everything I’d been taught and force fed my whole life. It defied fairy tales where love is mutual and magical, and was really quite depressing. I overreacted and I see now that what she said was partly true.

I loved my ex dearly and it was all by happenstance. I loved him because he loved me (immensely) first and what I’d really wanted at the time was just to love and be loved. So I settled with him because he was good enough and he wanted so badly to settle with me. I was sure that this relationship was my happily ever after. Then he started to treat me differently, with less love and affection, and the heart that I’d built up around him began to break. Today he swears that he’s never stopped loving me and never will. That it was all due to his youth and immaturity, his fear of losing me. But what’s done is done and lessons are learned.

I never needed to be saved. A man isn’t the ultimate prize.

It wasn’t all bad, though. There are tons of fond memories intertwined, a lot of honeymoon phases but not nearly enough for me to remain where I probably shouldn’t have been in the first place. When I left my primary regret was that I couldn’t make it work no matter how hard I tried. I couldn’t control the outcome and I couldn’t live happily ever after with him. I’ve since come to terms with that.

We’re still friends. He stops by and mows my lawn from time to time and we hang out on occasion. I’ve thanked him for the good and the bad times. On those rainy days it feels good knowing he loves me. My girlfriend once told me that he is my parachute. Whatever that means.

I know I talk a lot of jazz about dating and becoming a Golden Girl and all but, honestly, I’m enjoying being single. I’m pretty self-sufficient and I enjoy my freedom immensely. Relationships take a lot of work to maintain and right now I’d kind of like to take it easy. Just give me the romance, for now.

Have you ever noticed that every fairy tale ends after marriage, anyway? Ha! We never actually see them living happily ever after.

I still check out the dresses in the window whenever I pass that bridal shop, which isn’t as often these days. It was a fantasy, a Cinderella tale to wear the gown and be the belle of the ball. Now it’s mostly nostalgia for who I was. The dresses are still gorgeous but marriage no longer looks so appealing. Not in the traditional sense, at least. However, a marriage where two adults respect one another, are self-sufficient and know how to compromise and reason fairly sounds like a dream to me! :D

I do want to get married. But I won’t marry simply for the sake of being married. I don’t care about appearances. I don’t want to pretend to be Cinderella. My goal is to live happily ever after, married or not. I'll be fine either way.

I like to think I make him smile

I like to think that whenever he thinks of me or hears my name a smile spreads across his face and his eyes light up. His eyes are gorgeous, his mouth is too. I've been sort of flirting with this guy who's a bit younger than me (aren't they all :/) and I don't think he knows it, which is kind of my intent. I don't want him to quite know it. I just want him to smile when he thinks of me and laugh when I joke and play with him, and play back. So far, so good. He's generally a quiet, sort of shy cat but when I show up he blossoms :). And when my competition talks he just nods politely, no smile, very few words, if any. And that makes me smile. I don't know where I hope this goes but for now making him smile is keeping me just peachy.

But Bonita’s got a big ole butt…so he’s leaving you (see ya!)

You mean to tell me I have to have game now, too? More and more I’m realizing that physical attraction isn’t enough to get a guys phone number these days. Not that I’ve tried that and failed. I’ve gotten plenty of phone numbers… and then I’ve failed, lol, but that’s sort of another post. Right now, I’m specifically talking about there being so many “attractive” (to each his own) women out there with a multitude of qualities to offer a guy that, naturally, with women outnumbering men, guys are being pickier now more than ever. And lazy, but that’s a separate beef, too.

So here I am trying to be the best butterfly I can be and I’m still coming up short because “Bonita’s” got an extra quality that I probably didn’t mention in my initial interview. Maybe she gives head on the first date and has no qualms about admitting it. That’s what I’d like to think at least. But in my girlfriend’s case, her man of over a year and a half decided to leave her because the next girl had her own house. I’m not kidding. They were living together, engaged and behaving like a normal family with two kids, neither of which were his. Then one weekend they drove to Las Vegas for his brothers wedding and he met another portly single mom who wasn’t any prettier than my portly friend (she was tackier though. I saw pictures) and began having a long distance phone/internet affair all because she bought a house in the desert and has connections in the real estate market. I’m not kidding, he actually told my friend this when they were breaking up. He wants to be a realtor now.

And that’s all it took. It didn’t used to be like this, did it? Men are the new women and women are the new men?

Women outnumber men in the U.S. — among adults 25 and older, 103 million are women, 96 million are men. Now, of that 96 million, how many are in jail? How many are crazy? How many have anything going for themselves? Right :(

Looks like I'll be keeping my toe in the "Jungle Fever pool," Rashad, lol.

White Boy Fever

There must be an acute case of Jungle Fever going around because over the last few weeks I have been hit on by an abundance of white boys, which never happens. Some cute, some not, and a couple I could see myself giving a real chance if only they weren’t so shy and knew how to seal a deal with a sista. Because I’m sort of shy too, so unless one of us has balls enough (literally) to say something this won’t go beyond coy smiles and batting eyelashes. I thought the Guy from the OC had fallen off entirely but it turns out he just had midterms (did I mention he goes to Cal State Fullerton?). He sent me a long email yesterday explaining why he's been MIA for a few days. I don’t think we have a thing in common but that doesn’t seem to bother him. Eh, we’ll see where this goes.

As I sit here gobbling up a bag of Raisenettes

I'm sort of regretting my decision to get satellite TV. Less than a month in and I've already had a couple of phone fights with DirecTV customer service reps, which I'm thinking is a sign of things to come over the next 23 months of my contract. Bad things to come. :( Then, I can't turn off the tube. I'm "dating" Ahmed Hassan from Yard Crashers (in my daydreams), and cheating on him with Dhani Jones (I would so eat his taco meat). And speaking of eat, Man vs Food is bringing out the fat chick in me, inspiring me to want to cook more. This could be a good and a bad thing.

Why did I follow the crowd and decide to pay for television??

Anyway, I'd planned to do some reading tonight, exercise for an hour and wash my hair. All I've done is wash my hair. Maybe I'll get around to the rest of my to-do list tomorrow :/

A Dozen Things I Can’t Live Without (aside from food and water)

1. Naps – I take the best power naps in my car at lunch time. It’s like a quiet, warm little cocoon and probably just what it felt like being in the womb before birth. I bought a pink airplane-sized pillow for the occasion, which helps me fall asleep quickly and effortlessly. My work power naps last no more than 40 minutes, sometimes a little less, and they give me a boost of energy to finish out my day at full steam. They’re grrrrrreat! © Tony the Tiger

2. Boy shorts – wearing them feels like sitting on a cloud, they’re akin to going commando, only better. Smooth seams so no panty line, and no elastic bands to cut into your legs like bikini’s or granny panties. And nothing sticking up your nasty ass booty collecting all manner of bacteria and grossness like an uncomfortable thong. Yuck. Plus, the right pair will give you lift in the derriere J

3. A pen and paper – I write to-do lists religiously and derive great joy from ticking off completed items. It’s cathartic, I feel super productive, like my life is moving forward and my goals are being attained. I’m getting stuff done and in the process I’m gaining peace of mind. My thoughts are constantly shifting so writing them down helps me to keep up with them. Don’t want to lose any good ideas ;)

4. Lipgloss – better than lipstick, which often leaves your lips feeling dry and chapped, lipgloss adds shine, it magnifies and enhances the mouth while moisturizing your situation © Puffy , so whenever you talk your lips move fluidly without sticking (unless youre using MAC lipglass. That shits like Elmers) and feel protected from the elements, lightly wrapped in buttery smoothness

5. Music – It moves you. Feeling sluggish and got work to do? Turn up the tunes and get your chores done while dancing around. Music inspires you, it wakes you up to get off your duff and be productive. It gets the mental juices flowing as well as amps up the body for some light cardio. Wiggle and dip while youre washing the dishes.

6. My son – he spent part of his spring break (Thursday through Sunday) at his friends’ house and I missed him terribly. I had no one to cook for so I ate a pb&j or something microwavable. I had no one to watch my Netflix with, and at night I closed my bedroom door tight and pushed my dress form in front of it just in case someone broke in while I was alone.

7. My mom – they cut the cord many, many moons ago but I’m still very much connected to her. I talk to mi madre at least once a day, but usually more. She is my parachute, my emergency get out of jail free card, my confidant and sounding board, my advisor, my security blanket, and my biggest cheerleader. How on earth could I make it without all that?? I couldn’t, I’d be lost.

8. My privacy – There are days when I’d like to do nothing more than be human. That means my guard is down, my legs might be unshaven, my hair is topsy turvy, and you might find me on the couch scratching myself while eating lying down. Basically, all the stuff us human beings do when nobody’s watching and judging us.

9. My clan – As much as they annoy me at times, it’s good to know that they are mine and I am theirs. We’re stuck like glue; we’re obligated to get on each others nerves, to love each other, and to socialize on birthdays and holidays. We are never an island. We’re a village.

10. Indoor plumbing – need I say more?

11. My toothbrush – I gotta have it. I’d lose my mind walking around with yuck mouth. No, really. ...Perhaps I’ve already lost a bit of it considering how passionate I am about my toothbrush, L

12. A comfy pair of pajamas – I’m obsessed with them.

And that’s 12! It took me forever to compile this list, lol …but I’m glad I did.

They say they built the tracks over the alps between Vienna and Venice before there was a train that could make the trip. They built them anyway because they knew someday a train would come.

Any arbitrary turning along the way and I would be elsewhere, I would be different.

What are four walls anyway? They are what they contain. The house protects the dreamer. Unthinkably good things can happen. Even late in the game. It's such a surprise (c) Francesca, Under the Tuscan Sun

Tyra's Boo / Updates

Not bad, Tyra.

John Utendahl is a Wall Street banker who founded the United States' largest African-American owned investment group. Utendahl, age 50, is considered to be one of the most successful African Americans on Wall Street. According to the internet, they've been dating since '07.

Brief updates on previous posts. I called “the guy who’s wooing me” and told him that we needed a break and some time to reevaluate our friendship and he disagreed with me, saying that what happened wasn’t all that serious and that I was overreacting. We argued. Then he employed that talk-over-me-so-I-can’t-be-heard technique and I hung up on him. He tried to tell me that he wasn’t calling me a liar when he said that he found it hard to believe that I hadn’t checked my text messages since 3pm. I’m not sure what kind of English he speaks but that statement right there, here in America, means you think I’m lying. He basically tried his best to convince me that I was tripping and he was an innocent victim. So he’s fallen back. We’ve spoken since then and things seem cool but I haven’t seen him since the incident. I also called the “other” guy of another race and realized that we have absolutely nothing in common, plus he lives too damn far away (in the deep OC). He’s a tax attorney who dreams of starting a heavy metal band and is drastically, stereotypically white. I couldn’t relate so there was no connection. The single dad “other” hasn’t been able to find a sitter for his two year old so that ended before it could begin.

Yesterday I got a bit of my mojo back and now I’m feeling less like a Dorothy and more like a Demi. As I was walking back to my car to put coins in the meter, a well-dressed man with a full set of teeth and no b.o. (I said all that only to add credit to his sanity, lol) stopped and paid me a compliment. He said “you are one beautiful woman,” smiled, and then went on his way. Before that a male co-worker told me that I have a nice body, before quickly changing the subject, lol. There’s nothing like a little male validation to kick that mojo into gear and remind you that you’re still fine © Erykah B.

Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream

Make him the cutest that I've ever seen

Give him two lips like roses and clover

Then tell him that his lonesome nights are over.

Dear Lord,

I am patiently waiting for you to send me

Who is for me. I am becoming more and more disheartened and worried

And, who am I kidding? Frightened! L

That I may never know him

That I may not have a match anywhere in this big old world

http://prayerstoshare.net/request-60546/dear-lord-i-pray-for.html (this is how we pray today? (c) MC Hammer)

Why can’t I ever attract what I like? Why am I only attractive to those I’m not attracted to? Why is it so hard to find a match?

I’ve been watching the Golden Girls a lot lately on the Hallmark channel, laughing and smiling and then trying to imagine who’s going to live with me and my mother when I’m Dorothy’s age, unmarried and still trying to date. The “guy who’s wooing me” will be my Stanley Zbornack, if I’m lucky.

In this months Glamour magazine there’s a 45 year old woman pregnant by her 28 year old, handsome fiancé. There’s a picture of them both smiling like two Cheshire cats, hand in hand, seemingly skipping down a red carpet in couture. Demi Moore is on the cover looking fabulous, as always, wearing hardly any makeup and that hair that I’ve always been willing to die for (not really but you know, it’s gorgeous). My initial thought was “why is Glamour trying to sell us wolf tickets!?!? 45 and 28?? PREGNANT!? Get the fuck out of here, Glamour!” and my next thought was, “I wish I was Demi Moore.” Have you seen Ashton Kutcher?? Hummina, hummina, that man is fine. And they've been married for 6 years. I read the magazine back to front and then sat it on my ottoman, a glossy symbol of hope to look at every day when I get home, lol. Then there’s Lisa Bonet and Halle Berry, both shacking up with two drop dead gorgeous men. I’m trying to decide what separates me from them, aside from the obvious - white or mixed with white, rich, famous…beautiful? To each his own, I guess. I’m not hideous, at least... I don’t think, lol. However, I have been known to be wrong once or twice. Anyway, how can I be down? What do I have to do to get like them? Believe it or not, I’ve been getting tips from the queens on RuPaul’s Drag Race. Who KNEW you could fashion a dress out of a half bra and a couple of yards of material?? And have you seen their make up and hair!? Wow, times 12. Those bitches are fierce and they’re not even real bitches.

Maybe it’s LA that’s killing my love life, as silly as that sounds. There are way too many beautiful women out here to choose from. Plus, this city is much too large to just bump into your soul mate all willy nilly. I never run into anyone I know and I know hundreds of people. I’m beginning to lose my cool. I’d like to think that with each awful date I go on there’s one less frog for me to kiss and I’m getting closer to my prince. But I’m so sick of frogs (blech). And time has never really been on a woman’s side. Particularly not a black woman’s.

It’s that time of month when I seriously need a cheesecake and a chick flick. I think I’ll watch Tequila Sunrise tonight for the billionth time.

And now, the Queen of Soul with "Say a little prayer":

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=STKkWj2WpWM

Good eats

I’m trying to cultivate a love for cooking. I figure since I love eating, I should also be 'bout it' in the kitchen to ensure that I always eat well.Usually though, I’m just slapping something together real quick and no culinary creativity is going on whatsoever. That’s an abomination, an awful contradiction. I think I'll watch Food TV and Emeril and stuff to get some tips and inspiration.

Here’s what I slapped together for dinner tonight: shrimp, scallops, noodles, sauce from a jar (alfredo with sun dried tomatoes), 25 minutes.

Before

After

He’s got to go

It’s extremely rare that I’m happy and delightful on a Monday, but yesterday I just so happened to be. At work I was highly productive, time flew by, and, despite being super tired from the holiday weekend, nobody was on my nerves. That is, until I got home. Now, when I reached my driveway I was still high stepping and smiling, still in “get’er done” mode. I started straightening up the place and making mental notes to do a slew of things I’d been putting off (watch that Netflix movie I’ve had for over a week, update the tunes on my ipod, paint my baseboards, paint my nails, relax, etc). But first I needed to get dinner started because I’m absolutely no good when I’m hungry and Cornish hens take a while to cook. So I washed and prepared two of those bad boys, seasoned them to perfection, peeled a fat sweet potato, cut it up and tossed it into a pot, cut up some cabbage and got it ready to cook, and then my house phone rang.

“Hello?” I said.

“Well! I see you have your own thang going on, huh?!”

It was “the guy who’s wooing me” claiming that he’d sent me three unanswered text messages and half-jokingly accusing me of purposely ignoring him.

“I find it hard to believe that you didn’t check your phone since 3 o’clock,” he said.

What.the.hell? At this point I’m quite perplexed, wondering why he felt I needed to lie to him. And I asked him just that. What happened to him wanting me to be happy? I could feel my happiness slipping away.

He said he wanted to come over and use the internet to take care of some business. Straight bullshit but I’m like “uh…whatever, okay.” So all my plans are put on pause. He comes in and camps out in my living room with his laptop and my TV on blast, effectively alienating me from my space. I mean, my house aint but so big, damn. At this point I’m so annoyed I could kick a newborn puppy in the knee caps.

My temperature is rising but I try to remain focused on my goals for that evening; I don’t want to be unhappy. So I retreat to my bedroom to read. I’m yearning for my space but I’m trying not to be mean because I don’t want to have to deal with hurt feelings. So I attempt to level with him and, in so many words, explain that he just can’t give me an hour’s notice that he wants to stop by and then expect me not to have anything to do.

I’m a planner. My work weeks are planned damn near down to the minute and one snafu in my schedule has the potential to derail my mood and get some folks placed on my shit list (I didn’t tell him that part). He gets quiet like a little kid who just got chastised and his feelings are obviously hurt. I’m getting one word, softly spoken answers to my conversation. He declines my Cornish hens, sweet potatoes and cabbage, saying that he’ll eat what he has at home. Later on he mentions that what I’d said was fucked up. Huh? How? Are you dumb or just plain stupid, Forrest? I don’t say any of this to him, though. Instead, I ask to talk to him about it so that I can try to make him see the dilemma he’s put me in. But he’s too busy on the internet doing “research” and says that he’ll talk to me before he leaves. That was at 7 o’clock. This lousy motherfucker didn’t leave until 10 o’clock and by then I just wanted him gone so I could go to bed. Fuck your feelings, get home safe, but don’t call me to let me know that you have because I’ll be asleep. I don’t want to see nor hear from him but if I do, he’s getting cussed (yes, cussed) out and hung up on. I have the feeling that he stayed over for so long just to spy on me and see if I got any phone calls or male company, which infuriates me even more. How DARE he try to cockblock!! He’s officially worn out his welcome.

On second thought, I think I'll get it over with and tell him by phone during my lunch break that we can't be cool like that anymore. This is totally my fault though. I shouldn't have ever believed that he only wanted me to be happy. How naive of me.

I swear, I don't think I could ever live with another man again. Not unless we live in a huge house with east and west wings.

The oddest thing happened

As soon as my crush with “the 6’4 brother” crashed and burned a miserable death, two guys of another persuasion began to openly admire me. I’m kind of shocked and not sure whether to move forward or take a seat somewhere. So far, I've been pretty apprehensive but I think I'm going to make a move soon.

Both are very handsome, both are over 6 feet tall, both seem to have their shit together, both are of another race, and both are hitting on me rather hard. I’ve never dated outside my race, and it’s not because I’m blindly committed to black guys and don’t find others attractive. It’s because none of the others have ever tried to date me before. Well, none that I was attracted to at least. So I’m a little lost here. This is unchartered territory for me, and I know that they say that a man is a man is a man but I just don’t buy that. Will these men be able to relate to me, understand me as a woman of another race and background?

So far, we’ve remained above the surface, sticking to the point of what brought us together while exchanging pleasantries and weather reports and what have you. One of them is a 39 year old widow with an adorable 2 year old daughter, the other is a divorced 33 year old with no kids. Meanwhile, "the guy who's trying to woo me" is still lurking about. I asked him what he wanted from me the other day – to rekindle our relationship? occasional sex? What? – and he said “for you to be happy.”

I had no come back. That’s what I want, too.

So... I’m curious to see exactly what these “other” two guys want from me. I figure I have nothing to lose so why not, right? If it proves to be something to write home about, I'll let you know.

I hate the term “cougar”

It’s far from a term of endearment, it's disrespectful and demeaning to women, and anyone who dares to even utter that term in my presence will, at the very least, get the look of death, if not a severe cussing out (yes, cussing). What’s the awful term for older men who hit on and date/marry younger women?? Can’t put your finger on it? That’s because there isn’t one!! And no, sugar daddy doesn’t count. It’s not nearly as used as cougar and there really isn’t a negative connotation to it. Shit, Hugh Hefner is a sugar daddy and he is widely admired. He lives in a house full of gorgeous, sexually liberated, young, white women and many men aspire to be him – rich and (presumably) oversexed by said white women. On the show Two and a Half Men, Charlie Harper is certainly a sugar daddy but he’s portrayed as living the good life on the beach in Malibu, unhindered by marriage, a happy bachelor with a matronly housekeeper and a job that allows him to make a lot of money loafing around at home (a jingle writer). The term cougar, on the other hand, conjures up an image of an old, wrinkly, horny, sagging, chain smoking, Magda trying to recapture her youth and independence by sleeping with younger men.

Oh, and it’s not just men wearing this term out, younger women perpetuate this lousy stereotype too. As if they won’t someday get older themselves. They’d better hope like hell that they look as good as Demi Moore, Halle Berry, Mariah Carey, Kerry Washington, Thandie Newton and other women over 25. Usually, the ones talking shit look 30 at 20 anyway, so I guess karma really is a good bitch. Keep drinking and smoking and partying it up, girls! :) Meanwhile, your lame boyfriends will continue to hit on me and my sistren. Ugh.

Anyway, this all came about because I just backed out of attending a friends’ 27th birthday bash after reading the reviews of the venue she's having it at on yelp. Every last one of them talked about the overabundance of “desperate” “loser” “divorcee” cougars who “failed” at life. So, considering that I’m over 30, and my friend and the majority of her friends aren’t, I decided to save myself from an unnecessarily miserable evening where I’ll undoubtedly want to fight every guy and goofy bitch in the joint who thinks the term "cougar" is cute...or worse, thinks I'm one :( . I’d be walking right into a makeshift set-up of Hell, no thank you. And now that I think of it, I had a similarly miserable time at her birthday party last year at the "oontz oontz" club where every chick wanted to be Kim Kardashian and every guy wanted *her to be. Not only did the music suck (they played "Push It" by Salt n' Peppa at least 4 times), but the whole scene was super pathetic - a rainbow of short spandex dresses and 20-40 year old men with beer guts and sports coats. She picks awful spots to hang out in. I do hope she has a happy birthday, though.This year it won’t be at my expense, fortunately. I'll make it up to her somehow.

I'm teary eyed! :)

http://www.firstgiving.com/paddlewithpurpose

So inspirational. I'm tremendously moved (that's what I wrote on her donations page after I donated $20 to the cause) She has renewed my faith in human kindness. Read the story, it's sort of great :D