The time is currently 3:23 a.m. I am awake because I fell asleep at 9 p.m. after a long day of doing what? Absolutely nothing except being an adult.
This morning I woke up with a plan. Lately, this has been the norm. I had to wake up and go to a 2 year old’s birthday party. I had to go to get this child’s gift from The Children’s Place. I was picking out a child’s gift for a child that is not in my family.
While I’ve seen my peers getting pregnant and having children since I was in the sixth grade, this is different. I realized that not only are my peers now having children, but they are now MARRIED and having children. My peers are buying homes.
My peers are grown as hell. I’m grown as hell.
So, I’m at this child’s party with a decent amount of couples, some with children and some without. This is the part that killed me and made me say “I’m grown as hell.”
I was reaching for Rum instead of a damn Capri Sun. I’m more than grown as hell. I’m grown as fuck.
It feels like just yesterday all the grown-ups were doing grown up shit at the kiddie parties where I was a child at. Now I’m the one having side conversations with other adults making sure the kids don’t hear and trying to remain kid-friendly at all times.
That shit was hard so I just played with the dogs instead.
The moral of that story was…I’m grown as all theeeee fuck and shit is getting real. Afterwards, we almost went to Costco but I guess we weren’t really ready for that responsibility yet so we just went to my friend’s house and continued to drink.
I felt my youth coming back to me until I made that comment that I wanted to get back to “my side of town before dark.”
Why the fuck for? I’m 23 years old. Why the hell do I need to be home before dark? Did I forget that quickly that I’m grown as hell?
I guess so, because I left around 6:30p.m.
I was home sleep on the couch by 9 p.m. This can’t be life. I’m supposed to be drunk dancing on a table somewhere right?
Wrong. Surprisingly, that hasn’t ever really been my thing regardless of how “wild and outgoing” I am. Either way, I’m still supposed to be screaming YOLO somewhere right? Drake does it. He’s 25. That’s still grown too.
So I wake up at around midnight and guess what I’m excited is on my television, House Hunters. PRAISE HIM. Smh, i’m so damn grown. It is Saturday night and I’m excited to see the first black gay couple on House Hunters buying a damn house in East Atlanta. I’m so damn grown…and gay.
I had forgotten how grown I was until I started tweeting about the next episode of House Hunters International. I’m not supposed to be tweeting about linoleum floors at 1 a.m. on a Saturday night. Then I had the nerve to turn to the CNN coverage of the White House Correspondents Dinner and wonder what Michelle Obama’s hair care regimen consisted of.
I’m ridiculous as hell…and still grown.
Either way, I’m writing this so I can have something as a reminder for when I want to do some un-grown shit that on this Saturday, I was grown as hell…
…and I’m actually happy as fuck about it.
I don’t like sex. I love power. In no way are the two synonymous. Instead, my feelings remain anonymous to my soul. I give pieces of me away and soon there will be none left. So I’m going on a fucking man hunt to get some respect for my cunt.
I ask people all the time why they put up with my shit, or why they like me and hell even fall in love with me.
They all respond with basically the same answer in many different ways, but basically, “You’re mysterious.”
How the fuck am I mysterious? I tell my business to the world, shout it from the mountaintops and am completely open about my insanity. What the fuck is wrong with yall? Don’t yall know curiosity killed the got damn cat?
Take yall’s asses on somewhere. Recently, I started therapy because I admit, I do want to be sane. I can’t remember the last time I sat down and thought to myself “Go girl, you’re not crazy.” Maybe in elementary school?
Either way, I’m fucked up and I can admit that. I probably always will be but I’m hoping to become less fucked up while never becoming a total fuck up.
I’ve always worried that love would be the death of me, but by me trying to ignore it…it could seriously be the death of me.
Love won’t let me live, so when will I allow myself to?
No, but seriously. The question I have for the masses is how the fuck am I mysterious? How do people claim to not know me? I understand that at times, I show what I want to show but ultimately, I’m pretty transparent…
So what the fuss?
So I failed miserably in the month of August doing this 31 Day Reset…and I am determined to finish it. If I don’t finish this month, then I have to start from scratch next month. I’m not giving up (so hopefully I finish this month) lol I even decided to re-do the posts that I already did. No re-posts or anything.
With that said, I decided to make my new personal mantra a bible verse because when I was a little girl, I didn’t always live in the school district so when my mother dropped me off at school we used to repeat Philippians 4:13 every morning for years. I was probably the happiest I had ever been during those years. My vision wasn’t clouded with doubt of what I can achieve, so why not?
Personal Mantra: “ I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me” - Philippians 4:13
Personal Anthem:
I chose Marvin Gaye - Got To Give It Up because from now on, life is a celebration. A big party. Smile, dance, laugh, love. Time to get up off the wall and get chose…be it by a love interest, a potential employer, a future client. GET OUT THERE AND GET CHOSE BY LIFE…
I’m constantly hearing women complaining about the men they date, and the type of men they encounter. Although I know the latter doesn’t necessarily mean much more has to come out of it, but I don’t understand where these young women/girls/ladies/whatever-they-want-to-be-called are meeting these guys.
So many have given up (especially on black men) and a majority of my friends are under 30. Hell, a lot are under 25. How the hell are you already giving up? My mom was married at 22 and divorced somewhere around thirty something. I’m in no rush. Love can be love without marriage right now…but once again, I digress.
I’ve met a lot of men. Most importantly, I can honestly say I don’t associate myself with all of the men that I’ve met. That’s not the point though. I think I may need to write about why these young ladies I know hold on to all these men another time.
I want to know why I don’t feel that it is hard to find and date a great guy. Despite my current relationship status, dating has been really good to me. I’ve met and dated some amazing guys. I’ve yet to come across a trifling man, or a man that one wouldn’t consider a “good man.” The reason for us not taking it to the “next level” has been because of MY situation. Whether it be distance or my heart was somewhere else, nothing was wrong with them. The guys I dated in 2011 have ranged from old friends to new “bait.” They all have college degrees, (a couple have multiple), no drama, and a promising future. They will make great husbands and fathers one day.
So what’s the problem girls? Why can’t you find a decent man?
To be honest, I wasn’t living a decent life. My “mistakes” were pre-meditated and I lived comfortably making them KNOWING that God would forgive me. It was then that I was always depressed and not really a person a man would want to keep around. I wasn’t attracting men I really wanted. I was attracting whatever would show me some attention. I wasn’t selective. I didn’t even really care about relationships.
More recently, I began to appreciate who I am as a woman. I stopped taking God’s blessings for granted and things began to fall into place. I began to understand myself as more than just a human being, but as a woman. I understood that I don’t have all the answers and to be honest, I’m not looking for them all either.
This new “outlook” of mine allowed me to smile a lot more. I didn’t feel like every person I dated needed to be my man. I just wanted to see what it is that I like in a partner and what my potential partner should be like to help bring the best out of me.
Knowing yourself as an individual and knowing who you are within a relationship are often two totally different things and damnit if I haven’t learned this the hard way…but that’s not the point either.
My point is, I don’t get why the hell yall can’t find a man but every man I’ve dated seriously in 2011 is husband potential. What’s goin on? What ya’ll doin? I’m only led to believe that ya’ll really don’t know HOW to date.
*sidenote: If you know my current relationhip status, the irony will make this post THAT much better. ;)
I was inspired by the stranger homie over at Until I Get Married to do this list. He made a list of things he wanted to learn in his 30s. I read it. Saw some shit I’ve been saying I want to learn. Saw some shit I haven’t, but would be willing to learn. Saw some shit I already know how to do. Saw some shit I don’t care to learn to do.
With that said, here’s a list of things I want to do/learn:
I was recently reading a book and in it, a lady was conversing with her male friends about turn offs during sex. One guy said he didn’t like when a girl called him “daddy.” Damn. Funny thing is, I like to try new things in the bedroom…with my man when I have one. Once upon a time, many moons ago, I didn’t have a man…as I still don’t (but that’s not the point) so I went on some dates w/ a guy who seemed to be cool but probably tried too hard to impress me, but either way…I decided to take it there with him. Why? Well, because…i had a few glasses of wine too many and we had been seeing each other for a while and I wanted some. Sue me. I decided to try something different in the bedroom that night. I called him “daddy.” If that wasn’t a mistake like hell, I don’t know what was. Of course he didn’t stop doing what he was doing, however when we finished, he asked me a question. “What’s your relationship with your father where you needed to call me daddy?” I don’t say the N word but my blood was boiling for some reason and wanted to say “N—-a wtf does that have to do w/ shit. I for damn sure wasn’t thinking of my daddy.” But instead, I opted with “I have a great relationship w/ him. I called you that because one of my friends said he likes it when girls call him that.” Apparently he didn’t like that and he vocalized it, but that didn’t stop us from seeing each other again and eventually doing the do one last time before going our separate ways. During that last time, I couldn’t stop thinking about this man asking me what my relationship was like with my father. Bruh. It isn’t that deep. I was just trying to get you off…because as a woman, that’s what we do. We please our men. That was when I realized I’d made a mistake. Sista, this is NOT your man…and b/c he is not your man, the pleasure shouldn’t be all his. I shouldn’t be uncomfortable trying new shit just b/c you want to delve deep into my life and whatnot. It’s cute that you care but I won’t be your psychology experiment… That wasn’t an extreme case of trying anything new, but it prepared me for what could possibly come if I decided to continue to try things I’d never done before with people undeserving and less familiar with who I am as an individual. So yeah, I just wanted to share why I only try new shit with those I’m in a committed and monogamous relationship with. Hell, just thinking about this makes me not want to try new shit, old shit…*ahem* pardon me…let me go sprinkle some holy water on my thoughts.
May 18, 2009 is a date I’ll never forget. While a lot of my friends were enjoying being fresh graduates of Howard University or enjoying being neos in whatever fraternity/sorority, my life was in fucking shambles. One phone call after the next. Best friend and a homie. Both murdered. …but Rod’s hit me a little too hard. I didn’t cry though. I took a shot of Jose (Silver of course)…well, a glass of Jose..and then I went to a party. I’m pretty sure I danced my ass off to every song…but the only song I heard was his song. “Whoooooo the fuck is thaaaaaaattttt” Wildest summer ever. Summer ‘09 changed my life and it hasn’t been the same since. It took me a year to shed a tear. I think I’m still in mourning. I’m not really sure. I do things I’m unsure of, with him in the back of my mind while I do it. I lost motivation in some areas but started hustling harder with other things. I haven’t been able to be successful in a relationship since, in fact…I’ve pushed everyone away from me once I felt they were too close. I was told I’m still mourning. I was told I need to just let out a good cry (but I won’t.) I don’t really know what I need to do, but I know what I want…and I just want my best friend back. He wouldn’t even recognize me anymore. As it approaches the 2nd anniversary of his death, I’m going to try not to lash out like I do when I think of him. I’m going to try not to take my pain out on others. I’m going to find peace within myself…something I haven’t seen in a couple of years. Instead of taking a drink, I’m going to pray. <3 you Rod. Maybe. Maybe I'm whylin b/c this is the way I mourn.
For some reason people always come to me, the girl who is NOT in a relationship, about relationships. Comrade: “How do you know that you could date someone for a very long time.” My response: “Stop thinking so much about love, and start thinking about what works for you as an individual.” People don’t know themselves anymore. They know the ideals that others have ingrained in them. We’ve been afforded too many luxuries and way too many options to not be confused about what means what to us. This doesn’t apply to everyone or about everything of course, but when it comes to relationships, I believe it to be true for many. I was speaking with a good friend who said “I just have too many options, and I enjoy each and every one of them.” Lucky her. I’ve never enjoyed all of my options so it’s normally been easy for me to “choose.” So what helps me determine how to choose? (in no particular order) Overall, just make sure yall are on the same page. That’s really it. So many people I’ve dated have tried to make themselves compatible with me and by the time they realize that isn’t the route to go, mogs done met folks’ parents and confused the shit outta the world. Don’t be bout that life. I’m not. If I can be mad at you and still hold a civilized conversation, we gon’ have to make this shit work. If you can be mad at me, and still call me to let me know your plans for the evening, we gon’ have to make this shit work. If we gon be mad at each other and still not question why we’re together, then we gon’ have to make this shit work…for real. The moral of the story is: It doesn’t matter how I know who finna get chose. How do you know…b/c I know some of yall just may have given me the ill side eye. cute handsome? - Of course that still matters. I need you to look like the fine ass grown ass man you’re supposed to be.Stroke game. - Oh no she didn’t…oh yes, i did. I don’t want to be hurting but I want to feel something….OH,
