Take the cake

I wasn’t feeling particularly cute or sexy today. So I baked a cake. No judgement please, it’s my comfort food. The more productive and uplifting thing to do would be go for a walk, do some housework, or go shopping (lol) but when you’re not feeling too good about things in particular yourself nothing perks you up like a nice sweet piece of cake. Before the cake could come out of the oven good I was tearing open the frosting eating a spoonful. Never mind the cooling off period I prefer my frosting melting on the cake anyway. As I’m standing there eating the cake right out of the pan it dawns on me that I have replaced sex with food. Since my break up with Mr. Dysfunctional and my rebound from the rebound with the spider I unknowingly took a vow of celibacy but not really. My new lover is food. A few weeks ago I went for my annual checkup and when the nurse read the weight I had to look around to see who she was talking to and make sure she didn’t also have her ass on the scale with me.

I threw the spoon in the sink, well I ate another bite…ok two then threw it in the sink, sent a few texts, showered, upset myself even more trying to squeeze into designer jeans  that I could barely fit anymore. I was determined to get out of the house, be admired, flirted with, lusted after, and feel better about myself. Dammit, I needed confirmation. What’s this…A, or B is not available and the ever reliable option C is out of town. Ok, desperate times calls for desperate measures, there’s always one of the reserves. I’m going to need a strong drink to deal with him. I make me a drink, neat finger swirl the ice and turn the tv on. He’s headed home and will call me when he gets in. I un buckle my jeans so I can relax, and by that I mean breathe and refresh my drink. I need something salty, I make popcorn. Flipping through channels hey my show Being Mary Jane. Now my phone is buzzing and for some reason it annoys me so I ignore it. Commercial, I go put the popcorn bowl in the sink, finger a small piece of the cake, refresh my refreshed drink, and check my phone. He’s home…”where do I want to meet?” he asks. “I’ve had a few drinks, I better not drive.” I take another sip and now I’m mad at Mary Jane. She live in a glass house, she’s a size 5 max, drive a fancy car and has millionaires trying to date her. What’s she got to complain about? He replies back. “Well I can come to you, I can pick you up or we can chill at your spot?” Unt unt no way. Then I’d have to think of clever ways to get you to leave because I’m too polite to say you gots to go? No thanks. I hit him back with the maybe next time. He hit me back with a please and come on and why you tripping and now I realize why he’s in the reserve. I am now rolling my eyes to the high heavens because Mary Jane baked a cake she didn’t even eat URGH! Later in the episode when she was rejected by her love interest I felt better HA HA…ok so she has problems to. I hit him back and said I was calling it a night and I’d catch him next time. At the end of the day when you Bout That Single Life you can decide that if something is going to spread your hips then leave you feeling empty when it’s gone…it’s best to get like Anna Mae and just take the cake.

You don’t ignore ME. I ignore YOU!

It’s true what they say about nice guys. They do finish lasts. I’ve dated the intellectuals, corporate guys, church guys, blue collar guys, ballers, d-boys, fake gangsters, real gangsters, super, fine, sort of fine, not so fine, all of the ones ya’ mama warned you about and now I’m dating a nice guy. Problem is, it’s not enough. There are quick seconds of attraction, like when he does something nice, or gentleman like, but there’s no real physical attraction. Example: when we’re alone his presence teeters on irritation, he has no edge, can’t make a decision and when he displays any type of sexual advancement, I get the equivalent of the heebie jeebies. On the flip he’s the perfect gentleman, readily available, friendly, nice, caring, giving, agreeable, and will give me the world. Excuse me while I stretch and yawn I almost put myself to sleep thinking about a life with him. He wants to take the next relationship step but he doesn’t know to communicate that. I want to tell him like I tell my child, use your words. I’m highly bothered that a grown man who cannot communicate his feelings. I’m enjoying the perks of a nice guy without the expectations of a relationship so I’m not saying anything. So, one day he wanted to make dinner at my place. I know why, because he’s a hanger on and if I’m at his place I can stretch, yawn and say I’m out. If he’s at my place I have to drop 857 hints before I literally have to directly ask him to leave. A day before dinner a family situation emerges and I let him know I have to rain-check. He’s upset or not buying the story (which by the way was true) because he doesn’t even bother to respond. I genuinely feel bad so I invite him to a street fair in my town that weekend. No response. EXCUSE ME!!!??? You don’t ignore me, I ignore you! That lasted about five minutes as the realization that I really don’t care kicked in. So now I’m home on a Friday night, I’m bored and I’m one glass of wine and a lifetime movie away from being a Waiting To Exhale character so I text Mr. Nice Guy and say “oh really, you just gonna ignore me? ok then” about an hour later he text back “sorry about the family situation and I have to work this weekend I can’t make the street fair” Is he giving me attitude? Is he trying to side line me? I am not responding to that. Next morning he text (I guess he thought about his attitude and adjusted it HUMPH) “Headed to work, I’ll try to get off a little early to meet you” I do not respond. Now I’m getting dressed headed out to the street fair and he text again, “I’m getting off work heading home now” again I do not respond. I’ve met up with friends and family, walked the dog up to the fair, shoot…I’m busy. I’m enjoying the fun in the sun, eating too much funnel cake and he text again “I’m home” again I do not respond. So now I’m being Petty Patty delighting in the fact he’s home alone on a nice Saturday afternoon, because he had the nerve to ignore me earlier. You do not ignore me, I ignore you. I get home, feeling relaxed, my feet throbbing from all the walking and I sure could use a foot massage. I text Mr. Nice Guy and you guessed it. No response. LOL…this is getting so old.
At the end of the day when you Bout That Single Life, you have to pick and choose your battles to win the war on dating. Perhaps I should have let this one slide, because now I’m home alone, thinking about Mr. Nice Guy. And my feet hurt.

Hypothetically Of Course

Lets start with a question then break down a hypothetical scenario.  Which do you prefer “ignorance is bliss” or “knowledge is power”? While you contemplate the answer for your own personal life choice peep the following scenario. You’re dating someone for a few months now and its fun, light, refreshing, with no heavy expectations but you’re feeling like you’re a priority in their lives as for certain they are in yours. The actual conversation of “where you stand” hasn’t been had but the idea continues to invade your thoughts. They’re also starting to make comments eluding to the notion that it’s more than a fling and you both are really comfortable with one another. They’re always available and they’re always checking for you. You’re spending tons of time with each other. Months into the romance you start to get a feeling that they may have something else going on but in an effort to not rock the boat you approach it slowly and with extreme caution. You ask more casual questions because you don’t want to push them away by coming on too strong. As it turns out, you’re intuition was right and you learn in the midst of your romance, they had gotten married. You happen upon the invitation, wedding pictures, and the new spouse’s information. Can you be mad? Because you didn’t know? But you can’t be mad, because you didn’t ask right? Should they have told you? Do you think they owed you that much? Now revisit the original question. “Ignorance is bliss, or Knowledge is power”? Now that you have the knowledge do you feel empowered?  But that’s not where I want you to apply the question. Do you tell the new spouse that the week before their wedding you were laid up with their new significant other? That the day before the ceremony their new “til death do we part” mate was calling your phone trying to come and see you? Never mind your motive, could be out of anger, hurt, and need for revenge how does the question of Ignorance or Knowledge apply to the new spouse? Do they have the right to know? Perhaps it could ruin the start of their matrimony, perhaps you were just a stop on their way to their happily ever after and nothing will happen at all but do you tell? Do you give the new spouse the information? Imagine you hold it….and now your lover turned ex-lover who is also not aware that you have the information is still calling you wondering where you’ve been, misses you and wants to see you. Do you let them know you know what’s up? Do they have the right to know that you are aware? You have all the knowledge which means you have the power to control what happens next? They are ignorant to the fact you know, the spouse is (supposedly) ignorant to their newlywed’s indiscretions and based on their Facebook posts apparently blissfully happy. Do you tell…either of them?

Perhaps you just process, heal, forgive yourself and move on. Seeing as how we all have a different moral compass, perhaps you continue to see your lover with the knowledge that you’re ignorantly giving up your power for moments of bliss. Hypothetically of course.

But he asked me out?

He pursued me relentlessly. Ok so it wasn’t relentless he asked me out a couple of times and I finally accepted. My hesitation was never him I have to admit my insecurities and say he kind of intimidated me. Retired professional ball player and all the ball player swag to a long with it. He was tall, dark, handsome, and muscular, you know that Idris, Kofi, Morris look all mashed up. When he’d see me he’d practically pat me on the head and one arm uncle hug me so I knew he didn’t see me romantically, (except in my dreams) and that was ok because he was also really smart, well read, religious and pretty doggone funny so we became friends. And there I was locked away in the friend zone with my ideal perfect guy. We ended up losing contact, fast forward some years to the social media era and BOOM there he was all grown up still deliciously fyyne (yes I have to use a Y, hell two Y’s) and he was friending me on Facebook. He started liking several of my pictures and sent me a few inbox messages about how grown and sexy I am now. I’m giggling, blushing, and strategically responding to his inbox messages, careful to not sound thot-ish or thirsty but open and flirty. Wait, those aren’t synonyms are they? Anyway…this reminiscing and flirting went on for a bit until he was sure I understood he no longer saw me as that innocent little quite girl. He also wanted to be sure I understood he wasn’t the same religious holy roller he was back then, that he was a full on sinner. I’m like yaaasss I’m here for it honey, you can give me a full on body hug. Now this is just in my head, I’m still keeping it cool. He asks me out indirectly, what I mean is he suggests it several times but never full on asks or commits to a date. I continue to play coy, available but not waiting and he finally suggests an actual date and time. In my best Madea voice Hallelujer. The week comes we talk, the day comes we talk, the evening comes we talk, the time comes….CRICKETS!
REALLY!? You’re a grown ass man and you’re standing me up without a word? It literally takes two seconds to send a text to say you can’t make it and you’ve gone ghost? But you asked me out! If he didn’t want to hang out then why did he ask? Next day nothing, next couple of days nothing, so at the risk of appearing desperate I have the right to know so I ask…I send him a message “like dude, you stood me up?” No response. Oh ooops, now I really feel crazy. A week later his Facebook status changes to “in a relationship” HUH? But you just asked me out? I just roll my eyes and click off his page. Two weeks later he’s posting a picture of an engagement ring captioned “when you know, you just know” WTH? And yo’ ass didn’t know two weeks ago, because remember you asked me out. So now I’m checking out the chick, breaking her down like she aint stuntin on me. We tend to want to tear down the other woman (oh I guess technically I would have been the other woman, but you know what I mean) to vindicate our feelings and make ourselves feel better. So a week later when his status changed to “engaged” I unfollowed him (HUMPH I showed him) I don’t ever want to log on and see his face again, smiling next to that average chick, I mean that beautiful black sistah…
At the end of the day, when you Bout That Single Life, is being stood up part of the game?

Online Dating

So now that I’ve been single for…however long, I’ve decided to try online dating and you know what I’m going to do it right. I’m going to, try Match.com. Like have you seen the commercials? 4 out of 5 people get married, it’s hard to resist those odds and everyone who’s not on there, knows someone who is or was and is now living happily ever after with their online connection. I’m in, I create a profile, answer truthfully to the 187 questions, describe myself honestly, but stop short of posting any pictures. Let me check out a few profiles before I put my face out there and oh my starzz what if I see someone I know? Oh well shoot they on here to so they can’t be judging me. But still, I’ll wait on the photo. I check it out the first few days and while there are some decent profiles and pictures nothing really is making me want to shell out over a hundred dollars for a six month subscription with the guarantee of meeting Mr. Wonderful or another six months free. So I wait, and I’m getting to know the site. I find a section on compatible matches oh okay “CLICK” sort in order of compatibility please. This is match.com they have relationship specialist, therapist, psychologist and stuff to make sure you’re matched accordingly so let’s see what I get. “What in the name of incest is going on?” My cousin pops up as 98% compatible. I’m mortified! But only for a second now I’m LMAO…no literally I’m sitting on my couch laughing my ass off. First of all hmmm he’s married (separated, sort of but married) secondly aint no way he’s “single and seeking a long term relationship leading to marriage.” I’m off this site, I’m cool. Then I trip, we were raised the same it only makes sense we’d have the same relationship values. Clearly I’m still single because I’m related to my ideal mate (lol) but perhaps they got something right. I’ll give it another go. Then…I come across a profile of a guy that I dated who told me (humph) he didn’t want anything serious. He wanted to wait until his kids were of age as to not disrupt the flow of co-parenting that is successfully working with his ex-wife. I admired that, and felt we had an open, honest, and fun relationship. Until we didn’t and I’m still not sure why. Still not to be discouraged I forge on with the online dating. I talk myself into uploading a few pictures and boom I’m noticed.. (In my best Ice Cube voice yahee yahee) So I go ahead and subscribe to the site. Now I meet a few clowns, met up with a few folks for coffee, talk to a few OG’s and now I meet a seemingly interesting and good looking guy. We agree on a place to meet and I’m not even nervous. We’ve had such great conversations this is like meeting up with someone I’ve known a while now. I get there first, he’s late (really bruh) oh and I’m late for EVERYTHING, so he’s twice as late, and since you later than me that’s a problem. But I’ve been told I need to up my zero tolerance level so I wait could be traffic, twenty minutes turn into forty-five, that turns into me heading to my car. ERRRRRKKKK there’s a car flying through the plaza, music and horn blaring. (for crissake please don’t be my match) I sideways look and it looks like him but not really) I keep it pushing and my Lamb heels are clicking and clacking and this fool is now yelling my name out of his car window. BEEP BEEP…that’s me unlocking my car door…SLAM….that’s me closing my door….VROOOM…that’s me starting it up….BOOM BOOM BOOM…that’s him, banging on my window. How the? Exhale. I roll the window partially down. He looks nothing like his profile pictures, similar like yeah it’s him, but he must’ve caught a good light when he took those selfies.

“Self says to self, listen girl you here now, give it a chance…I don’t want to, I want to go home…I don’t even want a lemon drop anymore and my feet hurt from sprinting in my heels.”

He says he lost track of time but he’s here now so what’s up? BLANK STARE! What’s up bruh is your time.

I politely advise it’s been almost an hour.  So, I don’t say no, I say you’re really late and I’ve already informed by sitter I’m on the way so perhaps some other time. He shrugged his shoulders and said “It’s cool, aint nothing” HUH why did a part of me want to stay now as I’m more intrigued and almost feel challenged,  but if I don’t insist on common courtesy out the gate I probably wont get it down the line. So at the end of the day when you “Bout That Single Life” you can decide for yourself what’s acceptable and what’s not. What you’re willing to deal with, and what you’re not. And perhaps had I been in my wedge sneakers instead of 3 ½ inch peep toe heels that day, who knows, one lemon drop could’ve led to being one of the 4 out of 5 matches.

New meaning to the Counter Top Man

So, I’m talking to my girl and I’m asking her about her week. Work is good, her parents are great, and her daughter is growing into a wonderful, smart and responsible young lady. Oh and she’s thinking of remodeling her kitchen so she had a guy come by to measure the cabinets and the counter tops. I love a good remodeling adventure, sounds like a trip to the Home Depot is in our future.  I swear I just heard this girl moan. I mean I like Home Depot and all but…No, she says there’s more. The guy that was recommended by a coworker comes over to give an estimate, measure the cabinets and counter tops and he is whipping out his tape measure, bending, reaching, muscles flexing, talking handy man talk  and suddenly re-doing the counter-tops became doing her on the counter-top. “Seriously, this really happens in real life and not just Zane books?” Yes it happens she says, it happened, and it was amazing. So now I’m somewhere in between curious, amused, embarrassed, jealous and slightly turned on by the idea. Since I’m “selectively celibate” I have to live vicariously through my girls quixotic encounters and I want details. Which she gladly divulges.

It was spontaneous, exciting, bumpy, physical, raw and cabinet doors weren’t the only things slamming, opening and closing. He was swinging his hammer like John Henry and hitting the nail right on the head. I’m staring at her trying not to picture her but still get the visual. I need a cigarette and I don’t even smoke. When it was done there was no shame along with no strings. Basically a Bye Felipe, and I had no judgments.

So what about the cabinets? Oh replacing them is a must but it won’t be by the counter top man that was recommended by the coworker. She told me he sent her a dick pic. Although he was well endowed we laughed equally as hard as he appeared in the picture. Not at the picture but that grown men actually send unsolicited D.P’s to grown women and think it’s sexy. He called the next day, and the day after and while she tried to entertain him, he invaded her adulthood with uninvited, unwarranted, unwanted, and un-sexy phone sex talk and text which turned out to be a turn off for her. Turns out they call it a one night stand, because well one night is all you can stand…So he didn’t get the counter top job, but he got the job done.

At the end of the day when you Bout That Single Life, you can do what you want, when you want, with whomever you want. You can get your counter tops done or get done on your counter tops. #Datpart

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Why am I the cheater? He’s the one engaged.

Well, an old friend called me up and asked to “stop by” mind you its 10:15pm on a Wednesday night he aint stopping by for milk and cookies. Well he is if you can figure out the metaphor. An-Tee-way…I’m trying to drive the conversation to navigate down Family Road, Weather Avenue, How’s Work Lane, but it somehow keeps coming back to I’d like to see you Boulevard. I’ll give a little history on our friendship. Sometime back in my less than responsible and carefree 20’s we dated, or some variation of dating, nothing ever too serious and it never stuck. He was cool enough and I’m a very nice person (lol) so we stayed friends, not really connected but every couple of years hey you…hey you can i see you…type of friends. So here we are at that every so often hey you mark and he’s engaged and shouting to the world (and by world I mean posting on social media) how much he loves his woman and how he can’t wait to marry her and how she makes him the happiest man in the world. Of course I’m congratulatory and happy for him, but a small tiny little part of me is curious to know why he’s trying to see me if he’s so blissfully happy. Now if the pot is smoking chances are the water is hot you don’t really have to put your finger in it to test the water and be sure, but we do it anyway. Besides shoot, just because he comes over to see me and catch up does not require me to give him any. I am living a happily celibate life and I’m not compromising it for an old friend who’s engaged. No sir, no madam, no thank you. I’m grown I can handle seeing an old friend. So I digress and agree to let him come by and catch up. I’m casually dressed in comfy leggings and a football jersey. You know giving that home girl but I’m still sexy look. I mean for me not him.

He comes through, I open the door…and did he lose weight? He hugs me, tightly and wait has this mofo been working out? The hug starts to feel more like an invitation than a greeting so I start to relax my embrace because what is  that scent he’s wearing? I mean that’s the only reason I lingered in his embrace trying to figure out the fragrance. I offer him a seat, he sits in the love seat, and I sit on the single chair and asks how his parents are. We have chit chat for about ten minutes, and for me its awkward and slightly uncomfortable. i offer him a drink, he follows me to the kitchen and hugs me from behind as I am making it. He admires my place, asks to look around I say sure, He compliments my taste and decor, goes to check out the upstairs and I have one foot on the stair to follow him up but I hesitate, I can’t cheat with this man. But why am I the cheater, I’m single!

“He is the one that’s engaged” self says to self “and it aint to you” I guess at the end of the day when you Bout That Single Life you have a right to make choices and an obligation to respect the woman who’s is in a situation where you want to be, even if her man wont.

Flip side, you also have the right to run up those stairs and meet him where he is and the obligation to respect your body’s call. IJS