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.