Single and Not Dating

OMG!  Men suck so bad.  No.  Really.  Yall do.  I was talking to my big bro this past week, and I told him that dating would be easier if I met guys that interested me. I tried being the girlfriend type, and it’s really just bogus.  I think that in the age of secret internet lives, the concept of loyalty is lost, so I’m just not inclined to play the good girlfriend role, when basically, I know how you dudes act on the net.  Don’t front.  You know what you do.

Now, I’m not saying that chicks aren’t living foul too, but I’m not fucking with chicks, so discussing what they do in this post is a waste space and time.  I’ll leave that to some annoyed dude to do.  I can’t do EVERYTHING you know.

So, I’ve been going out more lately, and according to 5’5, I’ve been on fire.  Eh, dudes like me.  Throughout my whole life, I’ve NEVER seen my issue as being unattractive to guys.  Even though I seem to have the perpetual screw face (I can’t help it.  I look like an evil feline/rodent hybrid), dudes dig it.  I’ve got the spark and I definitely know what to do with it.  That being said, dudes tend to not know what to do with me.  And I think it’s partially because they don’t know how to act.

Case in point, last weekend I was out, and as soon as I walked in the door, I was spotted.  He was cute, not a bad dancer, good times.  We occasionally chatted it up, so when he asked me for my number, I figured, “What the hell.”  “I really want to see you tonight.  You’re saying all that is for me?”


Into what parallel universe did I stumble, where giving someone your number means you’re fully prepared to do the butt naked pole vault?  I’m no dummy, I’m sure he didn’t approach me for my mind.  I also don’t expect to make meaningful connections while I’m “singing about balls in the club.” But because I told a joke and danced with you, that don’t mean we fuckin.  Not even close.

My booty call/late night hook up dues have been paid in full, I’m I have no interest in regressing to that.  I’ve been the reactionary girl who acted out due to hurt, or generalized fear of loneliness.  I’m honest enough with myself and others to say that is not what I want for myself.  There are women that do, and I don’t knock their hustle.  Different strokes for different folks.  Additionally, people have to find their own way and what works for them.  But don’t turn up your lips when I tell you that you’re barking up the wrong tree. The drama and generalized extra that comes with it is really not what I’m trying to get involved with at 32.

I’m not going to ask why he has to go there.  I think that’s silly question.  I won’t even ask why it happens to me.  I’m acutely aware of the fact that I look like I enjoy to get down (much to my chagrin).  But I will say it’s a sad state of affairs when the only way people know how to express themselves is through their genitals.  And if you’re stepping this way with that mentality, I hate to break it to you, but I’m above your pedigree.

Seriously Slippin’

I’m SOOO y’all.  I’ve been shamelessly both neglecting my blog, and not reading my friends’ blogs.  I would love to say that I’ve been so immersed in writing my book, I haven’t had the time, but I would be lying.  I have to strike the perfect balance when it comes to blogging.  Usually, when I’m not blogging at all (unless I’m REALLY on a roll) I’m not writing.  So, I have to get down with the blogging AND work out the writing.  I have some good stuff coming down the pike, but until then, I shall hit you with the random.

1.  I think the only thing to come of that “Kath & Kim” show,” is that it caused me to discover the song “Filthy Gorgeous” by the Scissor Sisters.  OMG, when I walk down the street, I swear that song plays in my head.  I have said several times and maintain, every good superhero has her own theme music.

2.  I’ve finally purchased and read Watchmen.  OH SHIT! It was phenomenal. The Jersey Dude formerly known as the Harlem Bon Vivant said that his boy says it can cure cancer and shit.  I’m not so sure his boy was off the mark.  I’m reading it a second time and I’m enjohying it even more so.  I know they’re changing the ending, but I’m hoping they don’t fuck it up.  YES.  I will be taking off to see it.  Who’s comin with me?  C’mon…who’s comin?

3.  Am I alone in believing the jokes that come with Wynona Ryder endorsing Alli write themselves?  I’m sure you’ve heard me talk about this drug more than once.  It’s a diet pill that makes you fart bacon and whatnot.  Doesn’t she do a lot of straining and grunting when she sings?  Just a thought.

4.  So, I bought a pack of 5 gum right.  You know it’s those old 1972 sticks?  Who still makes sticks of gum?  Who DOES that?  That’s cassette tapes and people that don’t do oral right?  WTF?  I can’t tell you how pissed I was.  This was some bull!

5.  To what level of hell am I going to for laughing at the Travis the chimp thing.  First, let me qualify this:  the woman fighting for her life is by no means a laughing matter.  The surrounding facts, however, are so insanely ludicrous, it BEGS one to laugh.  If a 200 lb chimp is loose in your party, don’t fucking call me.  Don’t write me.  Don’t send a carrier pigeon.  Don’t send a Morse code message.  I’m not coming.  Animal control exists for a reason.  It’s to control animals.  I have been laughing since I read about it. Check it:

  1. He’s a 200 lb chimp named Travis.  Every Travis I know got his ass whipped with impugnity.  That has to fuck with a monkey.
  2. “That [monkey] didn’t go crazy!  That [monkey] went [monkey]!” (c) Chris Rock
  3. Travis escaped the cage because he got his hands on the key.
  4. His 70 year old owner took baths with him, fed him filet mignon, she gave him wine in a stemmed glass, they “snuggled” in the bed with one another,he brushed her hair, and she allowed him to surf the internet.  Yall…she was fucking that monkey.
  5. In my mind, this all started with Travis saying, “Bitch!  Is this Heinz 57?!  I told your ass A1!”

I can’t help but wonder, what would Cesar Millan do?

This sums up my philosophy


For those of us who live at the shoreline
standing upon the constant edges of decision
crucial and alone
for those of us who cannot indulge
the passing dreams of choice
who love in doorways coming and going
in the hours between dawns
looking inward and outward
at once before and after
seeking a now that can breed
like bread in our children’s mouths
so their dreams will not reflect
the death of ours:

For those of us
who were imprinted with fear
like a faint line in the center of our foreheads
learning to be afraid with our mother’s milk
for by this weapon
this illusion of some safety to be found
the heavy-footed hoped to silence us
For all of us
this instant and this triumph
We were never meant to survive.

And when the sun rises we are afraid
it might not remain
when the sun sets we are afraid
it might not rise in the morning
when our stomachs are full we are afraid
of indigestion
when our stomachs are empty we are afraid
we may never eat again
when we are loved we are afraid
love will vanish
when we are alone we are afraid
love will never return
and when we speak we are afraid
our words will not be heard
nor welcomed
but when we are silent
we are still afraid

So it is better to speak
we were never meant to survive

– Audre Lorde, The Black Unicorn