Tuesday, December 1, 2009

The Club. The Perfect Stalking Arena For The Cheating Man.

Obviously, women cheat too. But here, I will only address the men. Not being bias but a man's cheating tactics are VERY different than a woman's cheating tactics. So, perhaps I'll make this a two part entry, this being Part 1.

Growing up around a lot of males, I have witnessed the lengths that some men go to cheat on their girlfriends/wives. Most of the time, they really do love their woman, but the thing with men is, men crave sexual variety. And if you can't provide the variety, they will seek it elsewhere. Now, to the topic at hand. What is the ideal place for a cheating man to find the perfect smut woman to cheat with?

The most commonly preferred places are the bars, clubs, lounges. These modern day meat markets provide the perfect stalking grounds for any man who's looking to temporarily resign from his current relationship. Nowhere else can such an alluring combination of women, alcohol and immoral fuckery be found under one roof. Where art of good conversation has been degenerated to nothing more than a prerequisite to a some good sex.

Men have formulated their own ideas about women who go out to clubs every weekend. They figure these women are lonely, extremely bored, or just plain thirsty. Most women would disagree, but actions speak louder than words. Every weekend they pile inside overcrowded clubs wearing tight ass dresses with their asses hanging out, heavy makeup and way too much perfume. Their fuck me now piercing glares and suggestive body language declares to the thirsty ass men, "Tonight is the Night". I'm sure some of these women are entertaining thoughts of meeting their "Mr. Right." But luckily, some women eventually do wake up and realize that the club is no place to meet a decent man(in most cases). After years of putting up with the exhausting and bullshit games associated with night life, they grab their coats and purses from coat check and vow to never return. However this rude awakening is of no concern to the fiend who is confident that next week will bring a new roster of others to take their places. They will be lined up halfway around the block in their skimpy lil outfits in the freezing rain, desperately waiting to get into the club, like lambs being led to slaughter. And it is from these unsuspecting creatures that the next "other woman" will be chosen.

Physical beauty is the least important. The cheating man would much rather take a decent looking woman who will fuck the shit out of him, over a fine ass woman who has sexual inhibitions. He is looking for something he can't find in his relationship, a jumpoff must be willing to do all types of freaky shit. Loyalty is also a prerequisite. The cheating man, despite his own infidelity, needs a woman whom he can trust to not "run the streets". She must be at his beck n call at all times. He doesn't want to hear about her going out with her friends. She is his personal sex slave who must make herself available 24 hrs a day, 7 days a week.

Its very hard to find this woman so the thirstbucket has to position himself in areas where his efforts in his quest to find the perfect jumpoff can be maximized. You will notice him sitting at the bar, standing by the door, or looking down over crowd from a perch or balcony. Once he spots his target, the chase is on and popping. Armed with a fresh caesar, splash of D&G cologne, and hopefully a breath mint, he sets out on his lustful journey. Just as the animal hunter relies on his guns, traps to capture his prey, the cheating man relies on his smooth talk, good looks and low morals of his victims to accomplish his goals.

But determining whether a particular woman has characteristics which will suit his purpose isn't such an easy task in a night club environnment. Loud music, other fiends, and the womans nosyass girlfriends make the process extra difficult. This leaves him little else to go by other than a womans attire. More precisely what she's wearing and how she's wearing it. This is first indication of her morality level. Of course this doesn't apply if she's wearing a mini skirt and clearly has her man by her side. But due to the fact that short tight mini dresses are commonplace wherever you go nowadays,the perception is that most of the women in the club are dizzy promiscuous whores. This hasty assumption has been the cause of many heated verbal and sometimes physical exchanges. The man can't decipher between the smuts and the women that are just out to have some fun and a night out with her girls. When women have their tits out on a platter, Some men percieve it as an invitation to touch, grasp, and be disrespectful. And there is no doubt that many women expect these types of impulses since they go to such great lengths to expose as much of themselves. The dude is merely reimbursing her for her troubles.

But sometimes even the conservatively dressed women is the looser one out of the two. But the man doesn't wanna do all of that. He's not looking for a women to take home to moms, he's simply looking for someone to take to the nearest telly to bang out real quick and possibly again in the future.

Let's keep it one hunnit, the night club is nothing more than a weekly production specifically designed for play,profit and perpetrating. Nothing is what it appears to be. When the doors open, curtain goes up, and its show time, unemployed men suddenly become corporate executives and women on welfare masquerade as fashion models in their knockoff louie v attire.

So, maybe next time you go out with your girls, you might wanna keep these tips in mind. Unless of course you don't mind being the smut "other woman", then do you. I'm not one to judge. I know any man I'm dealing with wouldn't dare look elsewhere. ::Kanye Shrug::

FYI WOMEN: Stop hiding that inner freak when you got a man. It's okay, you're SUPPOSED to do all that stuff with HIM. If you've done more stuff with your jump offs than you have with your man...then I dont blame him for cheating on you. You deserved it. REALITY CHECK Chances are, if he's with you, he's not going to label you a slut for fulfilling his(and your) needs.

Thursday, October 1, 2009

Ladies, Just Let Him Pay.

Why can't men just appreciate what they have? Contrary to popular belief, I think men are just as insecure as women are. When they are in a relationship with a good woman, they always seem to be looking for a reason as to why the woman "settled" for him.

Take for example this dude I've been seeing on an off for a few months. We were on our 5th date when out of nowhere, he decided to let out all his pent up issues with me. This nigga just read me the riot act because I reached for my wallet. “Why you always do that? I don't know why you even fucking with me. You should be with some nigga that can give you the world. I already know you're an independent woman. That's why I'm here. But damn, Sana, a man needs to feel like he can do for a woman. And when you tell a brother you won't even let him pay for a meal, its like you don't want to be vulnerable AT ALL.” He took my hand and said, “Look, I admit it. I need to feel needed. And I think you could use some taking care of. So why don't you let that superwoman shit go for a minute and let a brother do his thing.”

I can't help it though. The whole bill situation has a lot to do with my pride. It’s a mask of bravado I wear to hide my fears. It’s my fear of needing someone. It’s the fear of handing my vulnerability over to a man that might drop the ball. It kind of sucks to pretend to be totally self-sufficient but it is a hell of a lot easier than giving someone else the power to break you.

I had to ask myself: Is this man, with all his faults, capable of making me happy right now? I think so, yes. So after carefully thinking it over, I guess carrying it on my own has really worn me out, I'm going to take a chance. What's the worse that could happen?

Thursday, September 10, 2009

Good On Paper, And That's About It.

The past few weeks have brought several new guys in to my little world. (I'd venture to say too many guys, but really, that would be a lie. You can never have too many guys.) So I've been thinking about something I call "Good on Paper Guys." These are the guys that if you were to pick a boyfriend solely based on his dating résumé would make it to your short stack and called in for an interview. I've met several of these guys recently, and I'm not complaining (much). They look great on paper, and read like a good book. But then you meet them and they break down into multiple categories from there. Some continue to be great, some let you know that they believe themselves to be great on paper, and others remind you that anyone can pad a résumé. Which is why the interview is so important, right? (And why we don't allow our mothers to arrange our marriages.)

Too Good on Paper= Too Good for Himself

One particular new friend really qualifies as good on paper. He has a good job, interesting career, nice home, nice car, disposable income, he's talented, smart, interesting, funny, etc. And his photo is worth keeping under your pillow. And I can tell you from firsthand experience, he passes the interview. So what is the problem? He knows he is good on paper, therefore, loses points for cockiness, and for his complete, total, horrifying inability to commit.

Too In Demand

Then there is guy #2, equally qualified as the previous candidate. He seems to know his résumé will get passed around, but isn't pompous about it. Instead he earns 3-pointers for his humility. The problem with him? Every girl in town wants to interview him. To his credit, he appears to be willing to interview everywhere. But the waiting time to get in with him is just so long that you have to wonder if he's worth the wait.

Too Just Not for Me

I've met a few guys that come highly recommended and look decent on paper, but don't jump out at you. I've had some fun with these guys lately and made some new friends this way, but the truth of it still stands. They aren't the candidate I was looking for.

But then there are "Good on Paper Guys" who interview horribly. You think they are going to be perfect. You get your hopes up. You are ready to make a very high starting offer, but then... No! They either don't show up for the interview, reject the request for the interview, or just plain bomb the interview. Sometimes you are still even willing to give them a second chance. True chemistry can take time and practice. But no matter what you do you can't get past it. And it is so frustrating, because they were so well qualified on paper. Your heart is broken over something that doesn't really exist. And you have to throw the résumé away, and look at the other candidates, which is next to impossible because their credentials just don't add up! Part of you knows that you just have to forget they existed, burn the résumé, hit the delete key, erase your memory, and move on. Give the other candidates their fair chance. But part of you knows that your heart can't really ever forget anything. Can it? No matter how good or bad the other candidates look on paper..

Wednesday, September 2, 2009

The Perfect Relationship.

I'm going to make God the main man in my life

When me and God's relationship is right, everything else just kinda falls into place. If work feels like it's demanding too much, I kick it with God and he reminds me of my purpose. If life's obstacles seem too much for me to handle, God wraps his arms around me and reminds me of what we've accomplished together in the past. If loneliness is tempting me to lay my heart down in a place it can't help but get stepped on, God reminds me that heartache is what tends to set in when a woman calls a man to do the job that was only intended for him.

Fulfilling a hunger for a love unconditional, one that never abandons or dissapoints, one that replaces imperfect love of a flawed parent or never fails to come through in our time of need is a very heavy task. And a damn near impossible assignment made of mere flesh and blood. That kind of loving is best provided by a divine and perfect spirit. By giving God his proper place, I free myself from fear-because I know someone out there has got my back. Regardless.

Wednesday, July 1, 2009

Tall Tales

So, I went out with "Empire"(refer to my last blog post about my tall admirer). Surprisingly enough, he wasn't so bad. Real sexy, Idris Elba looking ass nigga. He was a little older than any of my past lovers, has a 9-5, owns a house, no kids and no girlfriend. And best of all, he is a real sarcastic asshole, much like myself. Oh yea, and he wasn't looking to get anything too serious since he recently got hurt by his last girlfriend and because he is very busy with work. Cha Ching! I love when a dude is on the same page as me. We hit it off real quick. Well, I think it was more about the whole challenge thing. We kept trying to outasshole eachother on our first date. I can say some rude and obnoxious shit, so when a dude can roll with the punches, that shit is real sexy. After wining and dining me, by the third date, things were going real good.

But that bliss was shortlived. After a couple of dates, this dude started crumbling. I could see it as it was happening, kinda like a glacier melting. A few rounds with the champ and his priorities got rearranged. I'll let him hang around for a month or so though, he gives me a ride home whenever I'm out(even if I'm like 50 miles away) AND he gives a bomb ass back massage. And what's funny is he was the one boasting about turning me out. "You're still young," he said. "I don't want to have you dick whipped". Dick whipped my ass, now look who's walking around all goo goo eyed. He even got a picture of me in his wallet in the spot his drivers license shud be. Cornball ass nigga! :: Sigh :: When will he learn, nobody can be as insensitive and emotionally detached as me, nobody. Lol. Although he seems to be secure, commanding and in control, once a top shotta comes his way, suddenly his busy work schedule and negative experiences don't matter one bit.

Another one bites the dust.

Sunday, June 21, 2009

Short, Dark and Handsome.

"So, there's this guy that wont stop talking about you!" my homegirl said the other day. "Smart, rich, sexy..." "Is he tall?" I interrupted. I wanted to know. Because after years of, giving men that are complete lames, a chance, I've owned up to being picky lover. If he's over 5'7'', he better have one hell of a pe- I mean, "personality". Or better yet, a fine ass short friend.

Sure, I know it's kind of shallow to judge a man by what his height is, but I can't help it. I'm only 5'5'', and I'm attracted to men who are close to my height. I don't think there is anything wrong with it. There are all kinds of equally superficial reasons people are turned on and off by people. My friend Jess will only date a man if he has a full head of hair. My other homegirl Gab insists he atleast have a six pack. Measuring a man's attractiveness in vertical inches may be superficial, but at least it's a feature that lasts a lifetime.

I've always wondered about women who want their men to be ball player height, at least 6'2''. Maybe they dont feel uncomfortable looking their guy in the eye? Do they feel too big and want to feel smaller? Maybe it's some kind of daddy fixation. Or maybe they are just like, fuck it, the dude doesn't listen anyway, so why not just talk to his chest?

Perhaps some women can't handle the male physique. They are only capable of dealing with one body part at a time. Personally, I like to have everything within easy reach. Kissing is a lot more fun when you're not getting a cramp in your neck. And for a the ultimate sexual experience, you just can't beat having lips, nips and hips all match up at once. There's a special intimacy that comes with being the same height as your lover. Visually, your perspective is the same. You truly see each other eye to eye. And with lips so close to ears, you can easily whisper sweet nothings to him, even in public places.

There's a sense of exhibitionism that comes into play, too. You and your boo are always so perfectly aligned, so perfectly matched up, so its easy access. Clothes are all that keep your bodies from touching in all the right places.

There is a special youthfulness about short men. Most retain their boyish looks well beyond boyhood. The aging back problems that plague their taller brothers aren't as common among short men. Gravity is kinder to them. And, of course, sex just fits better. Being the same height makes it possible to do complicated positions without being super flexible. Standing sex is easier when your legs are the same length.

Depending on which study you believe, the average penis size is somewhere between 5 and 6 inches. But the difference in average penis size for a 5'4'' man and a 6'4 ''one is only half an inch!

Perception makes all the difference. Does he pull out six inches or is he packing some 9 inch heat? Is size predictable? Not really. At least I don't think it is. Sure you can look at feet and fingers. Big thick fingers will almost guarantee that you'll get something big and thick. Short, tall, fat or thin doesn't seem to make a reliable difference in predicting penis size. Tight pants make for nice packaging visual, but make most men look kinda gay(Ie:Kanye West).

With the family jewels, like fine jewels, the setting is key. A man's body is sort of a background display for his dick. And it works like an optical illusion. Big body + average penis =Ehh..Okay. Average body + average penis = average. Really short guy + average penis = Hot Damn! This is the guy who looks like he's got a third leg.

You can't stereotype penis size. Personality size, however, is something else. There is some truth to short guys being loud, obnoxious and more aggressive. Since childhood, they've had to speak up to be noticed. What they lack in height, they make up for in might and wit. Little boys who are small for their age are usually the biggest troublemakers and smartasses. They may not beat up on other kids, but they're the ones they stay instigating shit. The smart ones become champions at verbal ether. Some even manipulate the larger boys into causing trouble.

As short boys grow (hopefully not too much), they can use those people skills to get ahead in the world. Some will appear taller as they develop a bigger bank account.

I've always believed that all men can be masculine. But short men have their masculinity in a stronger, more concentrated form. Yes, they can sometimes be extra explosive -- it's a matter of contents under pressure. Napoleon is a perfect example. Short dude with a high-testosterone, full-of-fight personality. And he had a reputation for being one very horny mofo. That picture of him standing with his hand tucked into his coat? My guess:he was actually grabbing his dick. It reached all the way up there.

My friend, who wanted to hook me up with dude, finally admitted that the man was 6'2''. He had seen me at a party a while back. I, not looking in his direction (up), hadn't even noticed him. "But he sure noticed you," she said. "He's been going on and on about your how gorgeous you are. He told me he dreams of taking you out and sweeping you off your feet. Stop being a bitch, Please, he's been begging and begging me to introduce you."

Begging? I thought. Oh, fuck it. All men are short when they're on their knees.

Friday, June 12, 2009

Too blind to see? Maybe..

Recently, I was on the phone complaining to my old lover after another disastrous date.

Okay, wait, maybe I’m being a little dramatic.

He’s not my old lover AT ALL and the date wasn’t that bad. Old Lover is an "old friend" and the date? Turns out Mr.Perfect has three kids and he hadn't seen them in three years even though they live one borough away. Can you say DEADBEAT? SMDH.

So old lover asks if this is the same guy who I met at my friends b-day party(Second Date Syndrome dude). It’s not. SDS fell by the wayside too. Good dude, but he was only appealing to me with a few drinks in my system and since I'm trying to cut down on the alcohol, it just wouldn't have worked.

I get asked about other people I’ve mentioned to the old lover in passing since we became "just" friends late last year. The lovely specimen who had worse grammar than my 6 yr old cousin, the white boy, the industry guy who... Hold up. Actually, there’s nothing wrong with him… except the fact that he’s in the industry.

Old lover listens intently, pointing out more flaws that I seem to have forgotten about these dudes. Then he goes into how he still has my ring and my watch and I need to come through to his new spot to get them.

Fifteen minutes later, I’m outside his new apartment. The first thing he says when I walk in: "My baby's home."

I roll my eyes at him and take off my blazer and hold it in my arm, still holding my bag around my shoulder. I'm not staying long.

"You know I don’t like when you be going out with these other lames." He had this smirk on his face when he said it, so I couldn’t tell if he was serious or joking.

He’s acting real wierd. I roll my eyes again.

I watch him as he sits down the couch and starts flipping through channels.

"Can I get my jewelry?"

He just looks at me. "Sit down for a sec. You want some iced tea or something? "

"Err-So you think I'm staying?"

"You shouldn’t have left in the first place."

I sit down on the couch and snatch the remote from him, and start flicking through the channels.

"Babes, why aren’t we together?" He asks like it's a question I should have been expecting.

I stop flipping channels for a second, but still don't look him in the face. "What?"

"You heard what I said. I know I didn't stutter."

"Umm..'Cause your the homie." HBO, MTV, Oxygen...

He snickers. "Stop lying to yourself."

Um? "So what the hell do you think we are then?"

"When you need something, who do you call?"

Yay! Family Guy re-runs on TBS. "Not always, it depends on what I need."

"Stop being like that."

"I don't know what you are talking about."

Then he takes the remote and turns off the TV. Oh lawd! I give in and finally look at him, giving him the undivided attention he clearly wants.

"When you need something, you call me. When someone else f*cks up, you call me to fix it."

I quickly grab a magazine from the side table. Oooh Michael Jordan on SLAM! "What do you want me to say?"

"No, just listen to me." He snatches the magazine out of my hand and puts it back on the table. And once again I give him my full attention.

"You need someone to talk to? You always call me. You feel lonely? I’m here. You got a problem? I always get it fixed, you hear me?"

I nod in agreement. "I hear you but,where are you going with this?"

"If I’m the one you always run to, why did you even break up with me? Now I live 20 minutes away from you, you can't make that "inconvenience" BS excuse either."

I thought, What the hell?! but I didn’t mean to blurt it out.

"Think about it. It makes so much sense." Damn, now this mofo is staring at the table like it's going to talk back to him. "We chill, we talk, we make eachother smile, we never argue. I have really intense feelings for you. And you can front, but I know you're feeling me too."

"You think I'm feeling you huh?" I ask jokingly, trying to pretend like it wasn't a serious conversation.

"Would you be here if you didn’t?" He is not playing.



"So what do you think?" He takes my hand and I look at our fingers intertwined, then look up at him. For the first time in a long time, I think about us. He makes valid points. He’s dependable, convenient, sweet, sexy. I’m definitely attracted to him. We don’t really argue like we used to and he is pretty damn sexy. (My bad, Did I already tell you that?)

"Yea, I don't know. You just come at me out of the blue with that sh%t."

"Out of the blue?" He nods, presses his lips together and does the LL. "So I just want you to think about it? I’m so serious."

He reaches for the remote, leans back and puts on a movie. The opening scene to 'A Bronx Tale' comes on.

"A Bronx Tale, Word?" I looked up at him and smiled.

"Don't you love this movie?"

"I never told you that."

He laughs. "You told me your dvd was scratched and to look for it that time I was at best buy, so I just figured it was."

He signals for me to lean on his shoulder. I get us some iced tea, cut the light and then I snuggle into him. Why the hell haven't I thought of dating him before? It makes a lot of sense. But real talk, it never even crossed my mind since we agreed to be nothing more than just friends from the get go.

Could I date him though? How is it any different than what we already have?

I couldn't stop smiling for some reason, I turned to him and, look up at his face.

He looks down at me, kisses my forehead. "Keep thinking about it. No rush."

Thursday, June 4, 2009

Opposites Don't Attract.

Somewhere in my weekly evaluations of my life , I had an epiphany about my asshole ex and every other Mr. Wrong I dated and mated.

On some level, I was dating who I was at the time.

It is kinda hard to imagine that, given the parade of losers that have made pit stops in and out of my life.Sad, but true.When I met my ex aka “Jerk”, I was a mess. I was a broken, irresponsible, lost person who would seek comfort not from my friends, but from liquor. I was also pretty damn selfish not giving a shit what anyone thought or how I made them feel. And the only real difference between me and “Jerk” was the degree to which we were both drinking, broken, irresponsible, lost and selfish.

I looked better. I smelled better. I had a degree. But on a certain level, “Jerk” and I had a lot in common: We were both selfish alcoholics who didn’t give a shit about anything anymore, tarnished from past relationships and betrayal from friends, scorning the world without any real good reason.

Opposites don't attract. The head on the coin and the tail on the coin look different on the surface, but they're made out of the same material and they're hiding out in the same wallet.Are you dating a lame? Someone who you know isn’t good for you? Someone who seems to be your complete opposite? Someone you keep asking yourself why you ever even started dating?
Chances are, you're probably dating your own insecurities, your own disappointments, your own unsettled issues. And the longer you stay in the relationship, the more deeper your problems and insecurities will be.
Make the switch. Cut him off. ASAP.

I did.

Sunday, May 31, 2009

Since we are already on the topic...

Here is some insight on the topic from my buddy 'ol pal Deshair. And of course, as always, I co-sign with everything he has to say in this piece. Definitely a good read. Let me know what you think.

The Socialite: The “M” Words

Written by Deshair Foskey

The other day, I was talking to a colleague of mine about the “M” word; yes, marriage. She opened up to me on her feelings about it and how she had it all planned out from when she’d like for it to happen, where it will happen, and how many people will attend. The only problem was that she doesn’t have a special someone in place to fulfill her master plan. Once our trip into her world of gumdrops, candy canes and ponies was over, she needed a male’s perspective.

Natalie: So Deshair, do you ever think about getting married and having children one day?

Deshair: I thought about it on a few occasions. I never flood my mind with it though. I don’t look at it as some type of mission to accomplish.

Natalie: What do you mean?

Deshair: The story that you just laid on me about your dreams of marriage is more fantasy and more of a dream than actual reality. You want to be married by the age of 29, purchase a nice home with white picket fences, and have your second child by age 31, blah, blah, blah. Sounds more like you’re lining up your strategies for war than anything else.

Natalie: C’mon, there’s nothing wrong with having it all planned out. A girl can dream can’t she?

Deshair: Well yea, as long as your reality isn’t blurred by it. You’re 27 and don’t even have a steady boyfriend. Yet you already have the life of your next boyfriend planned out. Honestly, I don’t like that sh*t. I don’t want to have my life planned out for me before a first date even happens.

Natalie: I hear you.

Deshair: Look, whether you realize it or not, that dream of yours will cause you to think outside of what’s in front of you. What will happen if you’re 28 and you don’t have a man in your life? You’ll be so up in arms to find you a husband that you’ll take just about anything that comes your way.

Natalie: It ain’t even like that Deshair.

Deshair: Really? So if you’re not married by 29, you won’t be disappointed, even a little bit.

Natalie: Well, yes, I would be, but…

Deshair: Then it is like that. Natalie, marriage should not under any circumstances be a mission to accomplish. If it happens when you’re 32, let it happen then. There are certain things in life that you shouldn’t plan all the way out. And the day of your marriage, without being a fiancée in the first place, is one of them.

Once that conversation ended, I began to analyze similar conversations I’ve had in regards to marriage, or at least the pitfalls that comes with it. The Jagged Edge hit ‘Let’s Get Married’ ran across my mind as to where people may have subliminally caught the wrong message. Lyrics like, “Meet me at the alter, in your white dress / We ain’t getting no younger, we mind-as-well do it.” I understand what they are saying, but I wouldn’t suggest making this song your nuptial manual.

Statisticians wonder why the rate of divorce is at an all-time high. I’ll give you a not so obvious reason why. Some couples look at marriage as the 100 meter dash to the alter. The yellow tape at the end of the race which symbolizes victory when broken is the wedding day. Once the honeymoon is over, the mentality becomes, “Now that I have him/her, I can kick back, relax and slack off.” Sounds like a good reason for a marriage to fall apart to me.

A love that can last forever isn’t a 100 meter dash; it is a marathon that you train for everyday up until the time of the race. Marriage begins the moment that the gun goes off, signifying the beginning of the race. And if you have trained hard enough, 26 miles later, you’ll cross the finish line of, “til’ death do us part.”

So ladies, lets get back to the “Marriage on the Brain” segment. Ever wondered why you ran a guy off early? Bringing up marriage too early, even in the hypothetical form can do just that. You see, it’s not like men are completed throwed by commitment. Men just don’t want to have their entire life planned out for them; living up to expectations that are built for a storybook. Commitment is built on a free flowing line of energy, not upon deadlines and/or ultimatums.

Everybody heard the story of the woman who waited forever for her man to propose to her. “We’ve been together for ten years, and we’re still not engaged,” she says. Well if she took the time out to really match up their similarities, their goals and aspirations or lack there-of, she may have realized in year two that marriage wouldn’t be the culmination of the relationship that she was in.

There are women who live by this story. They don’t want to be that female that has waited for so long. But that doesn’t mean that you should force your relationship beyond its limitations at the time out of fear of time lost. When you take a chance on anything, you’re taking a risk. Finding your forever love doesn’t come without taking risks. And the last thing that you want to do is push away someone special in your life because you fear ending up like this woman you’ve heard about.

Let’s work on eliminating some of the stress that we’re creating upon our own situations. Let’s get to know one another. Let’s communicate and come to realizations. I am not in any way saying to have a “Whatever happens, happens” attitude. I am saying that you should open up your mind to the truth in front of you.

Tips from the Socialite

-Whatever you’ve done to make someone happy, you must maintain it to keep them happy.

-There’s nothing wrong with having expectations. Just be sure that you’re expectations are realistic to your current connection.

-Try your best not to show the “M” on your forehead. The actual race comes a distant second to the preparation for it.

Tuesday, May 26, 2009

Why Do Women Feel They Need To Be Married?

I understand the legal reasons and benefits of being married, but I cant figure out what happens to a couple after marriage to make so many people go through with it. Does it make you feel more fulfilled? Are your reasons because of some type of religious belief, and if so I gotta ask weren't you fucking, sucking and all the other stuff before you got married, so where was your religion then? ? Is the thought of being called Mrs. somebody that important to you?

I understand, back in the day, as a result of lack of education women were expected to marry in order to find someone to support them. Especially since they did not have the knowledge to do many jobs. This leads us into the social and financial pressures that resulted in women getting married. This certainly is not the case today.

I bet you if I asked 5 guys the 7 most important things they plan to do in life, marriage wont even break the top 10 list for majority of them, but ask 5 women, who aren't bitter, the same question, and its on their to do list for of life somewhere before or after having a kid. Not saying there is anything wrong with this, but I'm just curious.

Personally, heres what I think. Biologically, the older you are, the less likely you are to have children. So naturally an older woman looks less appealing to a man who is looking to have a child. And a woman who is single is seen as undesirable because something must be wrong with her for someone to not be with her. You throw in the fact that America is based on protestant beliefs of which the laws are built (i.e. marriage being seen as more valid than just relationships), and you have your answer...BECAUSE SOCIETY SAYS SO.

You arent good if you dont have kids by a certain age, you arent good if you are alone, and you arent good if you arent valid in the eyes of the law. So many women feel the pressure and dont feel they are worthy until they are married. They feel like others see them as undesirable or they may see themselves as undesirable.

What are your thoughts?

Sunday, May 24, 2009

Hangover+Extra Dose Of Regret=Not a Good Look

Most people who know me refer to me as the "lush" of the bunch. I always know all the good drinks at whatever bar/restaurant we are at. I love a good cocktail. However, I DO NOT love to get so sloppy drunk that I have to be carried out of the bar by people. That is just not cute.

When we are tipsy, thoughts are all over the place in our brains, slip out of our mouths, and we tend to lose control of what we say or do. In a world that values self control, its nice to have that pass to act up and do what we normally wouldn't do. We've all been known to act a little crazy and smile a little harder when we are drunk. Almost like our alter ego comes out after a couple of drinks.

I can't sit here and preach to you and ruin your good time. But I want to make it clear, that messing round with random men when you're drunk can be a dangerous game. When we are drunk, we are more likely to sleep with people we would never even think about sleeping with; we risk doing dumb shit like confessing our undying love for our boss or not using protection. Hormones tend to do the walking for us. And next morning, we may wake up with massive hangovers, feeling regret and shame about our actions the night before.

The tipsy hookup can be fun when executed right. You may feel a little more relaxed and uninhibited after two shots. Take 5 shots, though, and your setting yourself up for a nice bowl of next-day regret. After one drink, most females embrace their inner pornstar but after 5, we might get a little sloppy which is definitely not cute. Studies have shown that sexual performance, along with other motor coordination skills, declines at a blood alcohol content of .06 to .10. You'll be less sensitive to stimuli and less coordinated at providing stimuli. If you're male, you may be less able to maintain an erection and achieve an orgasm.

And you're obviously not at your peak decision-making capability after more than a few drinks. That same dude who you seen beginning of the night looking a hot mess, might just be looking like tyreses' fine ass after a few drinks. You might regret your choice of partner, the fact that you forgot about your boyfriend or the fact that you did it in the bathroom stall at some club.

Nothing goes worse with a hangover than an extra dose of regret.

Tuesday, May 12, 2009

A Woman's Relationship With Food

A Woman’s relationship with food can be even more complicated than her relationship with her mother, or for the married woman, more complicated than her relationship with her mother-in-law. Strange as it may seem, many of us feel like we need permission to eat. Just listen to a group of girls at a restaurant and you will see what I mean. More often than not, one of four strange rituals will occur: the justification, the confession, self flagellation or peer pressure.

With justification, a woman will actually present a whole freakin court case for why she is ordering french fries. Take my friend Gabby: " Well, I skipped breakfast today, then I walked to work, and all I had was a granola bar and a Diet Coke for lunch, and I’m getting a salad with low-fat dressing, so i guess I can order the fries, right?" Yea, sure, go ahead,

With confession, ordering french fries is some sorta sin of unrealistic proportions, it requires penance before even eating the fries. My friend Vanessa: "Damn. I am being so bad. I know I really shouldn’t be doing this. I mean, french fries are like the worst thing for you. Ugh! And I was so good all week. Okay, after this, ladies, I’m gonna do two whole hours on the stairmaster. And I’m walking home from the train instead of taking the bus."

Self-flagellation is more direct since it makes the direct link between ordering fries and a fundamental character flaw. "I am so freakin huge, I am just, like, craving french fries," says my girl Sara, "What can I say? I am a total fatass."

Peer Pressure can actually work one of two ways.

In the first scenario, a bunch of women will egg eachother on to order the french fries-even while some opt for salads and mineral water. " Get the frnech fries! Whats the big deal?" we’ll laugh, eager, and falsely dismissive, knowing damn well that the person we are trying to convince to break her diet is really a sacrificial lamb. If she orders the fries, she’ll enable the rest of us to feel superior for not giving in to our cravings, and of course so we can snatch fries off her plate- or live vicariously by watching her eat them.

In the second scenario, we agree mutually to absolve eachother of responsibility and guilt by ordering french fries as a coalition:

"Should we order some fries?"

"Sure, lets get french fries!"

"Why not? Let’s go all out! After all, its Friday!"

Complicated? Yezzir. The way we carry on about dumb shit like french fries, you’d think we were Hamlet. You’d think we were contemplating euthanasia. You’d think it was a career move. Military operations have been launched with less consideration than we give a menu.

Shit, think about it. If we spend this much time comtemplating over a menu, just imagine how much we comtemplate over men/relationships. If that much time is spent thinking about nonsensical stuff, when will we have time to actually enjoy it? Food for thought, right? PUN INTENDED.

Sunday, April 26, 2009

Wedding Vows=Wedding Woes

For as long as I can remember, I have disliked going to weddings. When I was younger, it was because I wasn’t really a big fan of wearing dresses or even looking the least bit feminine. I was the epitome of a tomboy. No dolls and dresses, just sports. So if wearing a dress wasn’t bad enough, at wedding, I would have to wear a dress in front a room full of a hundred or more strangers watching my every move and giving me the ill permanent side-eye because I didn’t act like a “lady”. Not much has changed since then. Sure, I might’ve grown some tits. And yea, I sort of grew out of my tomboy stage, but I still can’t stand going to weddings. At a wedding, you are forced to be fake and nice to people you would rather not even have to see, simply because you don’t want to disrespect the bride or groom. No is ever satisfied. Not even the newlyweds. They are so damn tired from a night of remembering names and seating charts that they can’t even fully enjoy their first night of post-marital sex.

Even though I really dislike weddings, I always end up getting invited to them. A few weeks ago, after a longass day, I came home hoping to unwind. On my way in, as usual, I had picked up the mail, hoping for a check of some sort. As I was looking through the mail, “Bill, bill, catalog, bill, and hmm... What do we have here? Birthday card? Nah, it can’t be. My birthday is next month. Duh.” So, I open it up to discover it was an invitation to my friend Sara’s wedding. Upon reexamination of the weighty embossed envelope, I saw it right there, in black 12pt Edwardian Script font: And Guest. Fuck! Could things be any worse? It’ll be my first wedding without a boyfriend to bring as a date, and now I have to go and find a suitable guest. Having to endure “The stage of fakeness”, also known as a wedding, was bad as it is, but now I need not just a date, but a proper guest. Just fucking great, something to look forward to, you know, like a pap smear.

This is just a lose:lose situation. The first loss is devoted to the guests: expectation. If you’re invited with a date, people expect you to bring one. The invitation might as well have said, “Black tie and date optional” because finding a date for a wedding is no small task. The second loss belongs to my date: he can’t be all lovey dovey with me, incessantly declaring his love for me to the guests. What he showers on me in private is one thing(Pun intended). What about if he turns out to be more of a lush than myself? Negative. It’ll be more like babysitting than a date. Simply unacceptable.

I need a date that would know his role and be able to help me get through the wedding without me having to curse some bitch out for looking at me the wrong way. He can’t dance all night or not dance at all. He needs to understand my anxieties and help me laugh at them. He also needs to know,a boss bitch like myself, who rarely believes in the constitution of marriage, alcohol combined with vows might make me want to…I dunno…throw myself in front of a oncoming truck. He can’t smell or have small dick syndrome, you know, just in case I get drunk and horny. He needs to understand that even though for the sake of our lovely audience at the wedding, we might say we are boyfriend and girlfriend, but afterwards, this will certainly not be the case.

Okay, maybe I’m asking for too much. But there’s no way in hell that I’ll go dolo to the wedding. The only single men attending without dates will be under 12 yrs old and older than 50. That’s just not going to work. Shaking my damn head at people that feel the need to pay $50+ per person for complete strangers to attend their wedding. Dumbasses. You know they are only attending the wedding for the free food and liquor. And in some cases, they are better off saving that money. What happens if you get a divorce? You can’t get a refund for wedding expenses fools!

I guess I should stop complaining and start looking through my handy dandy black book. I have to find the perfect date. Fucking sucks. A wedding sort of reminds me of Valentines Day. Finding a wedding date is like finding a valentine: if you have to find one, it doesn’t count. And then, watching a bride is like on Valentines Day when everytime you see a dozen of cellophane wrapped roses, you try to peek at the card hoping they are for you.

Thursday, April 16, 2009

Dont Drink and DATE.

Just wanted to tell you about another fuckerific incident that happened to me. And I'm almost positive that almost everyone has gone through something similar at one point or another in their lives.

A few weekends ago I was at a lounge in Long Island. I rarely go out like that out here but it was a friend's birthday so I said what the hell, why not, not like I had anything better to do. I probably would have been at home watching some stupid reality show(ie:For The Love of Ray J)and tweeting my life away. So, I ended up going out. The night was turning out to be boring as hell. Most of the night I just sat at the bar drinking and conversing with the bartender. I couldn't take it anymore. Just as I was getting ready to leave and was getting ready to close my tab, this tall, dark and handsome dude with the most amazing lips comes over and sits down on the stool next to me. Of course you know I had to put a hold on closing that tab. Without hesitation, I introduced myself and started a conversation with him. That's when I found out that he was also there for the same birthday party as I was. And like me, he was also bored as fuck. We instantly clicked(possibly because we were inebriated). He asked me if he could get me a drink, and being the lush I am, before he could even finish the sentence, I said yesiree. When he asked me what I was having, I wanted to say, "How about those lips, on the rocks." But instead, I decided to hold off on the assholishness until a later time. I asked for a grey goose and sprite. I couldn't have him thinking I was a disrespectful bitch just yet. After a couple of drinks, we proceeded to the dance floor. Since it was towards the end of the night, the DJ was playing reggae. So you already know how that type of dancing is. You could tell he was trying to keep his dick from getting hard but it was, as always, a losing battle. So, of course you know I had to step back, took his phone, put my number in it and bizounced on some Cinderella shit, minus the glass slipper.

Next morning, like my usual Sunday routine, I was doing my laundry when I got a phone call from "him". I can't even front, I think I might've smiled. Jus a little. He seemed like a really good dude, and from what I remember, he was pretty damn sexy too. We agreed to meet later on that day at 1pm for lunch. The afternoon date is a bit of a quandary, some believe it is his true attempt to get to know you. He cares less about the quick hit and run and more about something substantial. He wants to get to know you without the alcohol, makeup and heels. Yes, he might be just that into you. And if all is going well, the afternoon can parlay into the evening.

So, I got all dressed up looking all cute and shit for him and headed to the restaurant we agreed to meet at. I am terrible with time so I made sure I left my house early. I got there before he did so I sat down and ordered an iced tea. I sat there staring back and forth to the door and at my phone for possible text messages from him. At exactly 1pm on the dot, right when I was reaching for my phone to text him, he walks in the door. He looked a bit more tired than I had remembered him looking the night before. Hangover perhaps? Maybe. Who knows. I still wanted to get to know him. So he sits down, we order food and start chatting. He was right there, just a ruler distance apart-BAM, in my face. I had to look at him when we spoke because if I didn't, that'd just be plain rude. That's when it hit me- this was a case of SECOND DATE SYNDROME. I started to notice all the defects that were hidden or overlooked the first time. All the facial flaws are right there in plain sight. The night time stud turned into day time YUCK. SMH. What a damn shame. I blame it on poor lighting and way too much Grey Goose.

So, boys and girls, whats the lesson learned here?

Do not give out your numbers to anyone while your drunk! Instead, just ask for theirs and ask for their e-mail address too. That way you can search for them on myspace/facebook/twitter and approve before you agree on that second date.

Tell me about any experience like this that might've happened to you. That way I won't feel so bad about never returning his calls since that date. lol

Tuesday, April 14, 2009

The Socialite: Staying the Course

My boy wrote this and I had to repost it. I co-sign on EVERYTHING he wrote here. Definitely a good read. The kid is a amazing writer. Google him: Will Deshair Foskey, The Socialite.

Last summer, I said, “Hello,” to Brooklyn for the first time; the borough, not Mary J. Blige’s alias. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been there a few times, but for business and that don’t count. Well, I was strolling down the block with a colleague of mine when my attention was snatched away by a freshly baked apple pie cooling on the window seal (yes, in Brooklyn).

Let me tell you, even though there was a black steel gate, a 15 step porch and an angry looking dog separating me from a taste of that pie, my mind was still racing for it.

My colleagues’ phone rang so she answered it and our stride slowed some. And there I was; a leap, porch climb and a reach away from bubbling apple perfection; and quite possibly, a bite in my backside from Kudjo, the angry looking dog. Then out of nowhere, my daydream was interrupted by the thunder clasp of my colleagues’ phone closing. “How could he do this to me,” she said, while slowing our roll even more.

We stopped in our tracks, she stepped into hugging distance, leaned her head on my shoulder saying, “I loved him with all that I had, Deshair,” wrapping her arms around me with her hands clutching onto my shoulder blades. “How could he throw away what we had, just like that?”

I never really got around to seeing more of Brooklyn that day, and for good reason. I can’t remember how long our embrace lasted, but I do remember that after we pulled apart and I looked up at that window seal, that sweet smelling apple pie was gone. I was ready to cry my damn self.

We spent most of the evening back at her apartment in silence. I had so many things to say, however, I was smart enough to know that she didn’t want to hear a lick of it. So as I stood there playing bowling on Nintendo Wii, I thought about her situation and how I’ve heard it all before: I was everything that he/she could ever want – there was nothing in the world I wouldn’t do for him/her.

Personally, I also thought about how I would only see her after she hit a rough patch in her relationship; any signs of smooth sailing meant that I wouldn’t hear from her as much, if at all.

Once I began to play Tennis on the Wii, I thought about that pie again (what can I say, I’m always hungry). But this time around, I thought of the pie as a whole, in relationship terms. We learn by default that a relationship should be 50/50. As 1 + 1 = 2 in my mind, I began to see the flaws in this equation.

1. For two people to come together under a 50/50 connection, thinking of this ratio as equaling out to 100%, subconsciously the relationship is being looked at as a way of completing one another.
2. 50/50 is geared more towards splitting or sharing responsibilities. Looking for comfort through convenience. Convenience is for stores, not relationships.
3. 50/50 has a good chance of becoming 0/100.

A 50/50 connection lacks what any level of a joining requires, balance. When it is believed that having someone in your life is what completes you, the feeling of giving that person all you have comes naturally, even if what you’re giving them is misguided. And if you so happen to give more than you receive, the beginnings of losing yourself will take form. 50/50 becomes 40/60, then 20/80 and then by the time you come to your senses, or your senses are forced to come to you, you’re already empty; there’s an icebox where your heart used to be, you’re 0/100.

The 50/50 concept is a lose/lose - one loss is of self and the other loss is of others. As the ratio changes on this emotional see-saw, parts of who you are chips away. I noticed that with my colleague, she’d talk to me about how tough school has become for her and in the same breath talk about what her boyfriend was up to and how she supports him. She wasn’t as bubbly or as sarcastic as she once was. Even her aging process was increasing.

And this is where the loss of others comes to a head. Because you’re devoting so much time and effort towards your 50/50, suddenly you’re not keeping touch as you once have; you’re canceling engagements to keep your significant other happy, and the list goes on. This is the blinded loyalty that results in the deterioration of your current connections. Yes, the same connection that you’d try to rekindle after your relationship is over.

On the other hand, if we can look at a connection as 100/100, two hot bubbling apple pies working together as a unit, we can establish some balance.

1. Each person comes into the connection as a whole onto themselves. Neither one is looking to be completed by the other.
2. 100/100 sets the stage for independence first, dependence a distant second.
3. 100/100 relationships promotes the “Give and Take” concept, as well as a “Business as Usual” approach

100/100 connections defines balance and breeds teamwork. Teamwork and convenience are not the same. As a team, teaching, learning and being a motivator are paramount. Each participant also handles their total responsibilities. Most importantly, the participant isn’t willing to compromise what they already have on the table for the sake of the relationship. For example, if you spent 20 hours a week devoted to studies before the connection, those 20 hours would remain in tact.

There is a self reliance about 100/100 that makes it more viable. When you are whole, you’re not looking to fill any void which more often than not, places a damper on your connection. You have an understanding in place, rules in place, building a strong foundation instead of a home that floats above ground.

It is safe to say that no matter the ratio, connections aren’t fool proof. There will always be some type of struggle to overcome. You just have to take the good with the bad, weigh your options, steer away from conveniences and maintain a self reliance even in togetherness.

Tips from the Socialite

Convenience is for stores, not relationships. Make the right decisions for the right reasons. For example, people often make the mistake of moving in together, far too early. Usually because they spend a lot of time together and figure that it’s a great way to save money by splitting the bills. But what happens when a job is lost? One person is forced to carry the weight of the bills, now doubled because you have someone guzzling up the electricity at all times of the day, as well as eating you out of house and home. I can dedicate an entire column to this statement alone. I just might…

Voids should not to be filled by others. It’s simple, if you’re having a concern with loving yourself; this is something that you must address on your own. It is not always a 0/100 scenario, which leaves you in a state of coldness. By trying to fill a void through someone else, you could emotionally drain them, 100/0.

Stay the course. Time management is a key to healthy connections. Do not sacrifice your future for the sake of making someone smile in your present. If they decide that they don’t want to accept your career goals, that don’t mean give up on them. More and more people turn down great opportunities for the sake of their relationship… regretting the decision for the rest of their lives.

If you want to get in good with the Socialite, bubbling hot apple pie would do the trick.

Friday, April 10, 2009

Nice Guys Always Finish Last. And They Also Spend More Money.

About a week ago, I met up with my friend Sean to catch up over a nice dinner. Sometime into the night, he starts telling me about this shorty he had been seeing for a few weeks who he was really feeling. After meeting her through a mutual friend, he asked her out so he could get to know her better. Before they even started getting intimate with each other, she tells him just about the last thing any guy wants to hear-"I think your a really nice guy, but I only think of you as a friend". Poor kid couldn't figure out what he did wrong. His frustration was brimming over, and he kept looking at me for answers. I felt really bad but at the time, I didn't know what the hell to tell him. I was at a loss for words. Normally I would say something along the lines of, "Stop being such a fuckin chump!" or "Bitchass Nigga" but this was just not the appropriate time for any of that. He seemed upset and frustrated.

Over the next few days, I started pondering my friend’s quandary. And I came to realize, It's true, nice guys really do finish last. But they also end up spending more money. Some women are nothing more than well dressed pick pockets. Take Sean for example. This chick met Sean and claimed to be interested in him- she would hold his hand, kiss him and even let him spend the night at her place. She insisted they go on several dates to get better acquainted, at his expense of course. Since Sean was intrigued by her, he obliged. For the next two months, he took her out to dinner, bought her clothes, and helped her move a whole damn apartment of heavy furniture across town. He thought she had wifey potential so he didn’t mind taking is slow. But nope, what'd he get for his trouble? A well fed, well dressed, unappreciative BITCH living in a well furnished apartment. When he expressed that they should take the relationship to the next level, she dropped the bomb on him" I just want to be friends". But guess who has to suffer the consequences-the innocent woman who had nothing to do with his bad experiences. In his mind, everyone with a pussy must pay. All this does is create a sadistic cycle of manipulation and embarrassment. The revengeful man takes advantage of the next woman, and then she in turn finds a man to get even with. Where the fuck does this end though? After endless experiences like these that emasculate the nice guys, continuous assaults not only at his manhood but his wallet too, these near perfect potential boyfriend material type men, have no choice but to go the asshole route. All they are thinking is: Fuck putting any woman on a pedestal, fuck gallantry, and courting! Time to grow some fucking balls and take a stand for myself (and my wallet, we are in a recession you know).

So, Ladies, please remember that next time you do a guy dirty like that. There will be repercussions. Karma is a bitch.

Thursday, March 26, 2009

A Man Is Not The Answer To Every Problem. More Fuckery.

And the fuckery just does not stop.

So, I was speaking to my friend after a long time yesterday and she starts telling me about all her financial problems she's been having since she got laid off. After about an hour of crying and complaining, her tone of voice suddenly becomes optimistic, it was if she had an epiphany, the most absurd and stupid epiphany I have ever heard. She proceeds to tell me that the only solution to her problem is finding a man that can fulfill her emotional and financial needs-her epiphany. SMH! One of the most important lessons I have learned in my dating experiences is that it's impossible to make good decisions on who you need to date when you're in the midst of a major life crisis.

When you've been laid off of work and are damn near filing for bankruptcy, you don't need a man. You need to go out looking for another job.

When your situation at home with your family/rommate is so bad that you spend as much time as possible out of the house or locked in your room, you dont need a man. You need to find a new apartment.

When you're all depressed and suffering becuase you found out you contracted a STD, you don't need a man. You need a fuckin doctor.

Having a man is not going to make the mess you've made of your own life magically turn out alright. It's up to you to save yourself. This is extremely hard for you serial lovers, the chicks who stay falling in love at first sight and meeting a different soulmate each week. Yea, - know when your in love, all the shittyness of life morphs into vibrant color and even annoying ass people you can't stand, become tolerable. But most times love at first sight is like hope at first sight. Or "desperate need for a mate to get through this shit I'm dealing with" at first sight. Or maybe even "mind blowing fuck that can make me forget that I am about to get kicked out my apartment 'cause I can't pay my rent" at first sight. Sad. I know you are smiling and shaking your head while you are reading this because you know someone who fits the description. Seriously though, that bum ass nigga you pick up at the club–in my case, figuratively, not literally–is not going to make your life any easier. He's going to be one more fuckin problem for you to solve.

Please do yourself a favor(and the sorry sap who will have to put up with your shit), and just start solving the problems you already have instead of pulling other people into your already fucked up life.

Sunday, March 22, 2009

Vomit At First Sight.

Have you ever dated a man you were not attracted to ... not even one bit..not even after downing a bottle of patron? I have. As a matter of fact, I just went out with said man about a month ago.

It had been a few months since I last had sex, and about a month or so since I last had any type of jumpoff rendezvous. Maybe by the time this dude came into my life, I was so beat down that I thought, what the hell, why not? Maybe I was so needy that any form of sexual pleasure was enough. Maybe after being surrounded by all these looking for love type sucka ass predator dudes, I needed someone I could just push around without having to worry about the consequences.

Whatever the hell the reason was, this dude, let's call him "Boxer", ranks as my weirdest, most embarrassing, most what-the-fuck-was-I-even-thinking situation ever. And that's saying a lot.

I was sitting in Borders book store reading a book about Taurus Horoscopes 2009 when he came up to me. "So, I'm hoping your reading that horoscope for yourself and not for your man."

Without thinking, I hit him with a quick response, "Umm, yea, I'm the Taurus, but if I had a man and was reading it for him, why would it matter?"

And then he proceeded to try to hit me with his G. "Because then I wouldn't be able to tell you how good of a match Taurus and Cancer are. And it just so happens that, I'm a Cancer. Fate?"

At first I thought to myself, Who says that? But I can't front, I was intrigued(or maybe just bored).

"Boxer" claimed to be 26, but he looked a lot older. He was fashionably challenged walking around wearing slacks that were so short that they looked damn near like he was wearing capris. And on top of that he was mad skinny.

So what was the draw?

You have to understand that the only thing I was missing in my life was a convenient jumpoff. Most of mine have ridiculous schedules and its too much work. So, I figured, what the hell, let me stop being such an asshole and give "Boxer" a shot. I thought in the back of my head that he might have a crazy pipe game, can't let him get away.

So, Boxer gave me an impromptu psychic reading, proclaiming that I was a "roller-coaster ride" and an "adventure;" that I was a realist; that I looked and acted just like my father; on and on and on until he said the magic phrase, that as a cancer he could make me "happy".

Then he immediately did two things right: asked me out on date, and said can make himself available for me anytime that I want. Needless to say, after he said that, I had the ill kool aid smile on my face. Took his business card so I could set up an "appointment".

We went on a few dates and sexually, he did nothing for me. I didn't like the way he dressed, and his breath stank sometimes. I let him eat some of the forbidden fruit aka "the box"(hence,his nickname "Boxer") and I gave him nothing in return. Atleast while hes eating the box, all that is in view is his eyes and head, which weren't half bad. When he tried to have sex with me, I simply said, "I don't want to do this" and got dressed, while he all but burst into tears and confessed his love for me. Another psycho. He told me he was going to take care of me. He was going to come into some money, and he'd be able to help me. He tried again to hump me, and my exact words were, "You really need to get the fuck off me!"

He was undeterred. He said with absolute certainty, "I think you are making a mistake, we got something good here. You are my "Taurus" and one day we're going to look back on this and laugh."

Some part of me, really really deep inside, wanted to believe him. But honestly? I was physically sick to my stomach once I had to look at him after he was done with his Boxer duties. Needless to say, that was the end of that.

I wan't to hear about your stories with people you weren't attracted to. I know we have all had one if not more of those type of situations, and alcohol doesn't always do the trick.

Wednesday, March 11, 2009

Jumpoff Etiquette

Stupid Bitches. SMH. Yes, I just said stupid bitches. When I say stupid bitches I am not referring to EVERY female. Stupid bitches are those dumbass girls that get all worked up over some man who pays them no mind unless he's dumb drunk or just plain horny. If he accidentely slips and does even ONE act of kindness, all of a sudden, the stupid bitch thinks he's in love with her.

Now, technically, its not just the girls fault. Guys are also to blame for this. Since I am friends with a lot of guys, I can give you a perfect example.

I have this friend. Real good looking kid, and actually a really good person too. Very eligible bachelor except for when hes drunk. Thats when his hormones kind of takeover. Definitely not what you would call an asshole though. But for some reason, every female be calling him a asshole. I didnt know why until I finally witnessed him in drunk mode one night. First time I had seen him in action. I was forced to witness this since my friends were driving me home, and I forgot to call shotgun. So yea, in the front were my two friends and in the back was me, my "asshole" friend and some chic he met at the club who we were giving a ride home to. I didnt want to cockblock so I had already warned him to not get too crazy since I am right there and if they start fallin all over me, I will not be happy. So as I watched them stick their tongues down eachothers throats and her give him a handjob under the jacket he had on his lap,I realized that was all they been doing for about the last hour. What shocked me was that right after this intense makeout session my "asshole" friend proceeded to put his arm around her, hold her other hand n then kiss this,clearly a jumpoff type, female on her forehead. Not once, but about 5 or 6 times.

Thats when it clicked. I always wondered why every female I know refers to this poor kid as an asshole. He just doesn't know how to treat a jumpoff. How you gonna meet this random bitch in a club, not even know her name, make out with her and then kiss the bitch on her forehead like thats wifey when you know damn well you are not callin her unless you get drunk n want some?
Lesson to be learned here:
Men, dont treat jumpoffs any more than what it is. No kisses on the forehead or any other lovey dovey shit. Thats how you get them stalking psychotic bitches after you. Jumpoffs start gettin outta line cause they just waiting for a man to come rescue them and cross em over from jumpoff status to wifey status.

Monday, March 2, 2009

A Public Service Announcement From Yours Truly

I have to interrupt this blog for a Public Service Announcement.

This is really starting to bother me so I have to get it off my chest. Why is it that every other blog I go to, it has something similar to the last one? I don't want to read the Chris Brown/Rihanna story paraphrased in your words straight off of The Young Black And Fabulous Blog. Changing the picture in the blog entry is just not cutting it. And I am really getting tired of seeing that picture of Chris Brown on the jet ski. Or how about, the 50/Ricky beef, I don't need everyone putting up the videos on their page, I am perfectly capable of logging on to Thisis50.com. Let's try and be a little bit more original from now on.
Thank you. :)

Sidenote: This is not a directed towards anyone in particular. So please don't send hate mail or unfollow me. :)

Thursday, February 26, 2009

Unknown Musicians Over 30.

So this is actually something I posted on my old blog, but after seeing the same fuckery once again last night, I felt like I needed to repost this.

So I went to a showcase last night. A friend made me accompany her. And what stood out to me was this old ass dude thinking he can sing. Here is what I wanted to tell him:

Stop wasting your time, stop wasting your significant other's time, stop wasting your money on stupid gear, and stop thinking that you can compete with hot 18-24 year olds that are better than you. Your music doesn't have "character" - it's just outdated. outdated themes, chord progression, and guitar tones.

Nobody wants to see or hear you sing. The lighting makes you look older. The whole "thugged out" look isnt working for you. Especially since you are an R&B singer(or think you are). We all know why your myspace photos are over-exposed.

If you're over 30 and unknown, it is never going to happen. You are never going to make it. There's a reason american idol has an age cutoff. We want talent that's young, not talent that's old. Yeah yeah I know, america's got talent has no limit but it's a fuckin freak show.

Everyone knows you're balding. you can't hide it with the shaggy comb-forward look. The fitted does not make you look younger. The rogaine isn't working. You look like an idiot in those baggy jeans. Big ass rope chains are for kids. You don't look like a rockstar in those $5 sunglasses.

Sell your gear, quit your job at sam-ash, and beg a company to take you into an entry level position... wake up, we are in a recession. You are too old to have kid-dreams. The ship has sailed boo and you're not on it.

Have I made myself clear?

Monday, February 23, 2009

Break Up Sex-Save The Best For Last?

It happens all the time. You get into an argument with your significant other, and right before you sever ties, liberating yourself from it all, you decide to get in that one last fuck. And in return you end up getting the greatest breakup consolation prize: THE BEST SEX EVER. Not the ordinary relationship sex, I'm talking "grabbing the sheets, sweaty and gasping for air when your done" sex. Save the best for last huh? Maybe. But with the best sex ever also comes the pain of loss and completely unavoidable self flagellation. For some people, it does more harm than good.

You should not attempt to have breakup sex if it's evident the other person is still madly in love with you. This means they definitely want to fuck if that’s all they can get. Trust me, after the breakup sex, they will be even more clingy and psychotic than they were before. You should also refrain from having sex if you're leaving your significant other to be with someone else that you've already started to fuck around with. That's just fucking greedy. And definitely no goodbye sex if you are breaking up with the person because they haven't successfully given you an orgasm in months. Breakup sex is not an orgasm revisited. Only have sex if you're breaking up in person, and the hormones and emotions are intense but not to the psychotic/possible future stalker point. Break-up sex is angry, and that's what makes it so hot. Get as much of that pent up anger out - the lies, the betrayal, the embarrassment, and can't forget about the sickened stomach churning feeling you get when you look at his filthy cheating ass face now - all of those things can be used channeled constructively into having some sweaty ROUGH sex. No kissing allowed. Especially if you never tried it while you were together, it will add a nice little kinky touch to the departure. It makes angry sex twice as angry and more detached, and that's exactly what it needs to be.

You really don’t need to stay and cuddle. There is also no need to sit there and contemplate about whether you should kiss him goodbye or when the best time for you to leave is. After you get your last orgasm, get your ass up, put on your damn clothes and bounce.

And please, whatever you do, please don’t act like a dumb bitch in the heat of passion and knee-clenching orgasms, that you forget about how he played your ass. Or that even though prior to the breakup sex, he clearly stated that they did not want to be with you, you think that the relationship is back on.
Letting go of someone who was once a constant in your life is never easy, but the break up sex is simply a parting gift, nothing more.

Monday, January 19, 2009

City of God's Son

Introducing a ground-breaking new form of story telling, filmmaker Kenzo Hakuta reveals his latest production entitled City of God’s Son featuring Nas, Jay Z, Biggie Smalls, Delroy Lindo, Ghostface, Raekwon, Samuel L. Jackson, and Laurence Fishburne. The project is a spectacular soundscape into the world of the iconic gangster. Utilizing multiple mediums including 3D audio, original music production, sound design, and dialogue samples Hakuta draws the listener into a mythical world exploring the relationship between a father and son and the struggle to define themselves in this world. More information about this extraordinary release can be found at the official City of God’s Son website complete with a full download and trailer.

In the Mid- 90's before reality TV, before hip-hop became THE commercial music format, the culture and its marquee artists were larger than life characters to Kenzo. Through this project he seeks to resurrect some of that mythology by reinserting the very personas these artists promote to sell records, and putting them in a more human and vulnerable coming-of-age crime saga where they are now the kids looking up to the gangster icon characters played by their father figures (Samuel L. Jackson, Delroy Lindo), all within a mythical crime-ridden New York-like jungle metropolis. It has been said that film is the manipulation of space, and music the manipulation of time. Thus COGS is a manipulation of the unseen image, the unsung song, the space in-between image and sound that connects the two. It is "Synesthisia" -- which is by definition the crossing of senses, seeing what you hear and hearing what you see.

More information about this extraordinary release can be found at the official City of God’s Son website complete with a full download and trailer.


Youtube link to trailer:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NlSgUCmKPM4&feature=channel_page

Common to star in Terminator Salvation

Anyone that knows me, knows how much I love Common. So, you can just imagine how excited I was when I found out that he's going to be in Terminator 4. I think he is the ONLY rapper, ...who HAS NOT acted in a bad movie to date, a claim no other rapper can make, just look at his past works(Smokin Aces, American Gangster, Street Kings, Wanted). So I actually have a lot of high hopes for this movie. And I guess you all want to know who the main character is too. Christian Bale plays the main character John Connor. He has had roles in The Prestige, Harsh Times, 3:10 to Yuma, Batman Begins & its sequel 'The Dark Knight'.

It comes out on May 22nd, just a few days after my birthday. I for one will definitely be checking this movie out, simply for my boo, Common. You should too.

And heres a link to the trailer: VIEW TRAILER

Friday, January 16, 2009

My Body Never Knew Such Pleasure, My Heart Never Knew Such Pain!

As I was driving and listening, to “All Cried Out” by Allure earlier today, it got me thinking. Why is that always the case with us women? Why can’t our body’s know such pleasure, without it having a negative effect on our heart. Shit, if men can think with their penises, why the hell can’t we think with our vaginas? Why is it so easy for us to make love but so hard for us just to fuck? What I’m referring to is the kind of fuck that doesn’t involve love. Just a raw no strings attached lustfully driven fuck. Keyword: lust, not love. Making love is great too but, they both have their role, sometimes you want to be all mushy gushy with all the trying to please your partner stuff, and other times you just want to dig in your claws, let your inner freak take control, and fuck like there’s no tomorrow. Men see sex as more of a recreational activity, kind of like basketball, while most women see it as this sort of close, personal bonding experience.

Wouldn’t we just perform so much better in the rest of our lives if we had a shameless fuck here and there to relieve our pent up sexual tension?

So, whats the problem?

Is it the fear of getting pregnant or contracting an STD?

Or, is it the double standard in our society, the fact that a man can go sleep with a whole brothel and he gets applauded and referred to as “THAT DUDE” but a woman sleeps with two men without a commitment and she’s labeled as a smut/whore/bird?

Do we really just care too much about what other people think?

Wednesday, January 14, 2009

Types of Men I Refuse To Date

And if any dude is reading this, I'm sure that the same things can be applied towards females.

1) The Criticizer- If you can’t do anything right, you have found Mr. Wrong.

2) The Leech- The dude who brings the camera on the first date. Wants to tag along with you anywhere you go. Starts bringing up marriage within first few dates.

3) The Neglecter- “I’m gonna call you right back boo.” Right back to him is two weeks later.

4) The Pathological Liar- “My bad. Did I say Porsche? A Hyundai kinda looks like a Porsche, right?” Might as well call him Mr.Pinnochio.

5) The Show Off- Gives you a whole damn inventory of his possessions within the first ten minutes of your first date. Exaggerates importance of position at work. (ie: Tells you he works at a law firm, what he leaves out is that he works in the mail room)

6) The Know it All- You can’t tell him nothing. Try it, and he will tell you that you can’t tell him nothing.

7) Mr. Cocky- Thinks he is god’s gift to mankind. Every other sentence starts with “I”.

8) The Lush- Refuses to go out to any place that doesn’t serve alcohol. Has a flask handy at all times.

9) The Abuser- Extremely jealous. Tells you who you can talk to. Fantasized Aggression (ie: I swear if he looks at you again, I’m going to rip his head off)

10) The Pleaser- Sends you flowers every day to your job to tell you he’s thinking about you. Calls you every hour, on the hour, to see how your day is going. He’s there at your beck and call and you don’t even need a bell.

11) Too Far Without A Car- Lives in West bumblefuck and doesn’t even own a car. Oh, but don’t worry, he has a monthly metro card-SIKE!

12) The Cheater- “Baby, I swear, that was my sister who picked up my phone”.

13) The Busy Bee- Has way too much going on with work and side projects that he barely has time for you. Absence makes the libido wander.

14) The Sex Feen- First question he asks every time he calls is “What are you wearing?”. Overly touchy feely in public and always offering to buy you more drinks. Can not stop talking about his penis.

15) The Embryo- He tells you he’s 4 years older than you, and then later confesses, he is actually two years younger.

16) Deadbeat Dad- If he doesn’t give a shit about his own flesh and blood, what the hell makes you think he will give a shit about you?

17) The Player- Says he’s retired the Jersey but his phone does not stop ringing after 3am.

18) Momma's Boy- The one who lives with his mother AND mooches off her. This excludes the dude who lives with her and pays the bills because he wants to, not because he has to.

19) Semi-Taken- When you ask him what his situation is, he will tell you "It's complicated" And we all know this means he still talking to his ex.

I'm sure there is plenty more, but this is all I could think of for now.

Monday, January 12, 2009

Last of a Dying Breed?

I was drunk beyond belief one night not too long ago. It was my unofficial Dickhead Detox outing. It wasn’t complete drunkenness though. There was no dancing on tables and I definitely didn't manhandle any potential suitors below the waist. With the amount of grey goose in my system, I have to say, I was pretty well-behaved.

So, I invited an incredibly attractive man (let’s call him Larry) to come party with me that night. I met Larry a while back and had kind of just put him on the backburner because he lived way to far from me. Distance can be an inconvenience when it comes to jump-offs. It matter now. He was the victim for the night. If all had gone according to my plan, he would have been my "reward" for the night. I had just gotten out of a 1-year predicament (because for me to call it a relationship would be inaccurate) and convinced myself the only real way I can get him out of my system is if I added someone new to the roster. The plan was to gauge Larry’s interest, and if he was indeed interested, he’d invite me over to celebrate me finally getting over the ex. I'd tell him let’s pick up a bottle of wine and we can watch a late night movie...or “something.”

Larry shows up looking even more scrumptious than I remembered. We talk, get our drink on, and I'm really digging him, hitting him with the A game all night. He seems like he's feeling me too. Oh yes! So we flirt back and forth throughout the night and by the end of the evening, he puts it out there that he would be more than happy to fulfill any needs I might have for the rest of the night and the near future. Oh Snap! Here's my chance to get it poppin, to get Mr. dickhead ex out of my system for good. This is what I have been waiting for... and what do I do after 6 grey goose and sprites and 2 shots of patron later?

It strikes again, my terrible habit of thinking out loud. Word vomit.

I ask what his current situation is. (Why the hell I waited till I was damn near jumping his bones at the lounge, I don't know.) He has a girl. And even though this is supposed to be a mere jump-off and the fact that he was taken totally shouldn't matter, in my drunkest state of mind, I tell this guy who is the epitome of physical perfection something along the lines of, "I respect relationships. No can do. But, you have my number, if you ever find yourself unattached, holla."

In my absolute drunkenness, I am still a lady.

A complete fool? Or the last of a dying breed?

Sunday, January 11, 2009

Open Relationships..

Not too long ago, I met this amazing guy James(name has been changed to protect my privacy)at a lounge one night. He was tall, dark and handsome and a ridiculously nice person. For reasons that I can't remember, I didn't give him my digits the first night we met although we had an interesting conversation. Just about two weeks later, same lounge, I run into him again. Apparently he is a regular there on Monday nights. Anyways, this time I make sure I take his number before we even start our conversation. Needless to say, in the next week or so, I called him. We went on several dates and really clicked. We have a pretty good thing going. There was an understanding between us.

James is certainly not my boyfriend, even though we might act like a couple when we are together. We call each other friends and I am perfectly okay with that. I’m not a huge fan of labels/titles anyways. And I would much rather people know me by my name instead of referring to me as “James’ girl”. And we've talked about (and agreed to) seeing other people but making sure we are priority to one other. I don’t give a shit as long as I’m number one on his list. This weekend we had our first argument. We've been friends for a good few months now, and we've started getting, dare I say it, “serious”. I guess once a person’s in your life consistently, you start to have expectations. And it's aggravating when people fall short of that. And you become a little more vulnerable too as your trust and comfort levels increase, which the other person might not be used to.

James has been having a pretty rough time. I won't lay out all of his details, but it's the usual, you know when the bullshit piles up so high that you no longer see the light at the end of the tunnel. We have all been there. I make sure I point that out here, not to play it down, but to let him know that it's a part of life, like puberty. And I know I'm not handling it well. He's been calling more than usual, running through his list of hundred and one issues each time. I have tried to listen patiently and be a supportive “friend”, but after a few weeks of these two hour conversations about his issues... Well, not that I didn’t want to talk to him, but I was tired of listening to his problems. I have some of my own that need handling too, but you don’t see me throwing all of it on you like you’re my therapist. And it’s kind of hard to go about solving my own problems when I’m sitting here listening to his. Selfish? Maybe. But I didn’t sign up for this. What happened to our free from care, talk about nothing of significance conversations? I used to call and ask how his day was and he'd have some good news or something real funny to tell me. Now all I get are issues. And misery is damn contagious. Not a good look!

But I listened to him anyway, because I figure, he trusts in me to speak to me about this is. It’s the least I could do. I guess this is what people in relationships of even the platonic type do, right? Be there for each other? Plus, I figure the faster his woes get resolved, we can get back to the business of being happy and unattached. After weeks of bad news, he calls me with more Friday night while I'm at dinner with another boo, having a pretty intense conversation. I listen patiently, once again, and offer a few tidbits of advice, as my date sits there, pretending like he isn’t bothered by how rude I am for answering my phone in the middle of a conversation with him.

James then goes into something else, another problem, and I cut him off nicely, asking if I can call him back as soon as I’m done with dinner.

"What’d you say?"

I explain to him again, and this time more sweeter than the first time. What I don't say to him is that I'm a little preoccupied right now, thinking about nothing with any worries enjoying this unusually nice date with this other boo who I usually just ignore for his ass.

"Whatever. Peace." Click.

What the fuck? I stare at my phone. Is he seriously mad at me?

And a few minutes later, the other boo heads to the bathroom and I take a moment to call James. The phone rings a few times and then goes to voicemail. I hate leaving voicemails but I do it anyways. "Hey boo, just wanted to call to make sure you are okay. You sounded upset earlier, wanted to make sure everything's good with us. Call me back ASAP."

He usually hits me right back when he misses a call, even if it's just to say he's busy. But nope, not this time.

Three hours or so later, I go to bed.

I suck at sleeping so a few hours later, I wake up. It's like 3:30 AM. He’s probably just leaving from some party with his boys. I wait a while. Check my email/myspace/facebook. Then I call him and tell him I’m sorry for acting like an asshole. I tell him that I appreciate him. And how I'm so used to him now that I forget some of the assholes I used to deal with. And I'm so glad that he's not like that.

"That's good for you." Excuse me? Maybe I just woke him up?

He tells me he just got in from a party, like I had suspected. "Um, are you feeling alright, is everything okay with you?

"Yeah, I’m fantastic," he says sarcastically.

Are you serious?

"Why don't you go back out with your friend?" he says.

Oh no he didn't! You have got to be kidding me.

It's pretty evident that he is inebriated and is acting like a jerk. And that he clearly doesn't want to speak to me, so I don't argue. I don't know what I did, but no matter how bad I want to stay on the phone with him, I'm not going to beg any nigga to stay on the phone with me.

"Alrighty then. (Pause) Peace." Click.

I don't hear from him all Saturday. He calls me pretty much every Saturday morning once he has recovered from his hangover. He didn't that day. I figured he needs some time because he's upset about some dumb shit. It really was starting to get to me because I didn’t think I did anything wrong. I finally called him around 5 PM to ask him why he’d acting like a bitch and he basically just tells me he's busy and can't talk.

This time I decide to just fall back. I don't know what the hell is wrong with him. He sounds real bothered when I call and has nothing to say. He hasn’t returned my call. This is the longest we've gone without speaking to each other and I can’t front, I kind of miss him. Hey, I can be needy sometimes too. Maybe he needs his space and I am just crowding him?

I don't hear from him for the rest of the day. I’m still in fallback mode because I know he has work Saturday night, so I decide not to send him his routine text before he heads out. The one time I actually fall asleep before 1 AM, around 3:30 AM, I get woken up to “Sexual Healing”, the ringtone James had set for himself on my phone. Surprise Surprise, in typical asshole fashion, it's a ONE word text from him. "Wow."

I'm trying to figure out what the hell he's so damn amazed by when he calls as I’m still texting him back asking for an explanation to the fuckery of a text message he sent.

So I answer. All I hear is him yelling and complaining.

My first instinct was to flip out on him and then just proceed to write him off. But its still less than two weeks into the new year, I remembered my resolution about being less of an asshole and to trying to be patient and kind even when you feel like being an asshole. I'm slowly getting more and more aggravated as the foolishness keeps flowing out of his mouth.

But I decided to stay on the phone for the next 2 hours talking it out until the shit was completely resolved. He was pissed that I blew him off (his words, not mine) on Friday. I was wide awake by then(and although less aggravated, still far from calm) so I stared at the ceiling fan and thought about life, what I often do when I am trying to sleep or figure out my life out my life.

I’ve come to realize I've avoided relationships for the past few years. There are a few reasons that I’m so predictable and that I rotate dudes on such a regular basis, as my friend pointed out, I change dudes with seasons. And I know why. I don't think I'm built for this relationship shit. At the first sign of real conflict, somewhere around where the new season begins, I’m out, PEACE. Not that I haven’t done the whole relationship thing before but I just can’t be in one right now. I have much more important things to worry about, like my career.

I keep thinking, what the fuck does a healthy relationship even mean? What’s entailed in it? I have to not only figure out which way I feel about something and why, but figure out what my significant other is feeling too? And does it mean I have to care even when I don't feel like it and listen to him too? Do I have to be tolerant and kind even when I don't feel like it? Do I have to hold back my usual assholishness and my tongue from saying reckless shit just so he doesn’t think I “blew him off”? I have to forgive and pretend like I’m over it? I have to spend time to work through a conflict and move on when it's resolved? I have to take my time out to deal with his problems while dealing with my own too? SMH

Don’t get me wrong though, James is a really good dude. It’s the first time in a good minute that I am actually feeling someone the way I feel him. But I think I've been in an open relationship and single for far too long, too used to thinking about just me. And I know I’m going to sound selfish but, there's a part of me that likes not having to be the primary person who's concerned about another person's problems.

Can I even do this relationship thing with James? Can I keep building with him to see where this goes? Couldn’t Valentine’s Day be in a few months instead of next month? I know he’s going to want to be with me on Valentine’s Day and I know I’m going to have to say yes if I want to keep him around. Then what if he says those 3 forbidden words, “I Love You”, I can’t lie and say I do too. Most people think Valentine’s Day is spending it with the one you love. Unless of course he can look over that and think like the Boss Lady does and realize that the real underlying theme of Valentines Day isn’t all flowers, candy and the mushy gushy stuff, it’s NOOKIE! I just hope he doesn’t try and get serious after Valentine’s Day. This is how it always happens. Then there’s going to be the talk about how we should stay monogamous. And I don’t know if I’m ready for that, I really don’t.

This brings me to my final question:

Do you think it’s possible to love someone, and only them, while messing with other people?

MY ANSWER: Since I am all for open relationships, I think it is. I have loved someone who I was in an open relationship with. I think every other person that we mess around with is just a reminder to us why we are with the person we are with. Let’s say if your significant other leaves you for one of the jump offs, then it was inevitable. They were bound to leave you sooner or later.