Dying To Fit In

I have been taking mental inventory of myself after being involved with the stalker and surprisingly, at the end of it all, there appears to be a desire to be accepted. I have heard, all too often, that I know too many people. Men in particular. I don't get why being popular is looked upon with such difficulty when it comes to guys that I've dated or wanted to date. The comments that dictate this usually start with, "I remember you from back in the day." or "Everybody knows who you are!" and honestly, I'm more comfortable chalking it up to the person's insecurities. However, it has become increasingly annoying and more often than not, a detriment to my love life. Sometimes I feel like if I met people that had no idea who I was, who I used to date, the number of guys I know and how I used to live, that I could receive a better judgement for my character.
In one of my initial conversations with the stalker I remembered that he said, that he was not "put off" by all the people I know and that we were the type of people that drew people to us, so it was only natural that we were attracted to each other. And now that I think about it, that's one of the main things that captivated me about him! I have always had to deal with this reputation of being "the girl that everybody wanted but didn't have the balls to approach" and this has created a huge prejudice for me now that I'm older. This is gonna sound crazy BUT honestly, dating dope dealers was a lot easier than going out with the common man! Hustlers didn't give a shit who you used to date or who you knew, unless the person had more money than them, and even then it was only a thing of them making sure that they could maintain what you were used to. But I find that the common man is hard to please when it comes to their preconceived notions about me. I attempted being honest about my past with people in the present because I thought it would help me to gain a personal acceptance of my former life or allow me to take responsibility for the parts I played prior to now. But then I started to realize, me saying that most of my adult life was spent dating drug dealers didn't afford me anything but guys telling me that they could never keep up with those expectations. Sometimes I would even notice that the guy was clearly trying to be something he was not. Or there were also those times where, the guy in question would try and throw my past in my face by saying that I was used to being treated like shit so I couldn't see when something "good" was in front of me. Did the dickhead ever stop to think that it was BECAUSE of being treated like shit that I decided to date the common man in the first place? Ugh! Either way, all of the outcomes were bad so I decided that maybe being SO honest about my past probably wasn't as good an idea as I originally thought. And so, during this mental inventory, I have become conscious of one of the reasons I became involved with the stalker..........He was unmoved by my popularity. Oddly enough, I also thought about one of my first high school sweethearts today while I was on my way to work and how drastically different my life would have probably been if we had stayed together. And I believe that all of this is stemming from a place inside myself that is DYING TO BE ACCEPTED! Accepted, not only for who I once was, but also for who I am today due to who I used to be.

Why does my current situation make my mind selfishly wander to all these different places?
Do I appreciate the lessons I learned along the way? Sure I do!
Do I wish sometimes that I grew to be somebody different? Of course!
Will I ever fit in to a world that goes against everything the "streets" raised me to believe in? Who knows?????

".....Sometimes I remember the darkness of my past/Bringing back these memories I wish I didn't have/Sometimes I think of letting go and never looking back/And never moving forward so there'd never be a past/If I could change I would/Take back the pain I would/

Re-trace every wrong move that I made I would/If I could stand up and take the blame I would/If I could take all my shame to the grave I would/.......It's easier to run/Replacing this pain with something numb/It's so much easier to go/Then face all this pain here all alone."

Linkin Park

Unhealthy Stuff

A lack of humility, being rich without ever knowing what its like to be poor, malicous intent, dishonesty, staying in the house all the time, going out all the time, loveless life, never learning forgiveness, not knowing your weak areas, saying things you don't mean, not taking other people's feelings into consideration, selfishness, fried foods, sugar, harboring resentment, sex before marriage, untidy areas, drug and alcohol abuse, a day without laughter, not calling your loved ones regularly, not being yourself around others, obsessive behaviors in a relationship, nonchalance, taking care of others before yourself, never saying "I'm Sorry", letting yourself go, being jaded, becoming stagnant, not facing pain, not obtaining closure in relationships, ignorance, never feeling the need for prayer, wishing ill on others, not following your dreams and a life without GOD!

Statute Of Limitations

Ok, so Brooklyn grabbed my hand when she jumped out there and took me with her!
Here is my absolute truth on paper:
For the past month or so I have been seeing this guy from my past. He was one of those crazy "street" boys from back in the day and when we dealt with each other back then neither one of us were looking for anything serious. We just used to fit each other in sexually when we could and go back to our fake ass relationships with other people afterwards. Well, this same dude called me last month because he said he saw my cell phone number in one of his old phones.
*I'm one of those people that keep the same cell phone numbers for 10 years. So technically, anybody from my past could reach out and touch me* Anyhow, he starts calling me all the time and asking if we can go out or spend time with each other and of course this is all after I made up my mind to spend every waking moment writing. The devil knows right when to interfere to attempt to disrupt what God has planned for you! The last time I had kinda turned my attention away from writing, my career was on its way up and one of my old dudes came home from jail and that was it! Not to mention, I still had one foot in the street myself at the time. But due to that very lesson in life, I refused to become distracted yet again by a guy from my past who has just come home from jail. Yes, the guy was going through his old phone because he had just done 8 months in jail behind a charge that was over 10 years old and he was transferring numbers into his new phone since he just got home. It was almost too similar from the last experience to even be considered by me. I told this guy that I didn't have time to cultivate a relationship and that my current focus was my writing and that I could not make any exceptions in his regard. Still, he kept calling me. He said he understood where I was coming from and wouldn't get in my way but still he persisted. And with the devil able to make things appear so appealing, I started to think that this guy was actually doing what all the others weren't.........Stepping Up! Wasn't I complaining like three blogs ago about nobody stepping up to love me? Well, dude was and he didn't pay my shitty attitude any mind either and that could stand alone and be a winner in my book! I mean, he was so attentive and had no qualms about my popularity, he didn't seem threatened by the amount of people I knew and all he ever wanted to do was be with me. Now, on the surface I was thinking.....'How and why is this happening now?' It all looked like everything I ever wanted was being placed before me and I wasn't sure whether to embrace it or look at it as a distraction from my writing. I was SO conflicted. Needless to say, after incessant phone calls and requests to see me, I folded like a lawn chair! We were going out to dinner every weekend, talking on the phone every night and I even gave up my celibate ways for this guy because I knew it would be worth it. Again, I'm thinking....'When I had sex with him 17 years ago it was poppin so it could've only gotten better with time!' AND he ate coochie like a Champion! He was what I like to call, a professional "cock sucker"!Uh, cha-ching!
So now, not only are we spending excessive amounts of time together but now we're sleeping with each other and doin all kinds of nasty shit that shouldn't have happened because it was taking me off my square a little bit. I was still writing but never when he was around. I found myself staying up until the wee hours of the morning writing because I was fitting it in after work so that I wouldn't feel guilty about spending time with him on the weekend and not with the laptop. This went on for about three weeks and then I began to start feeling like I was being smothered. Does that sound selfish? It felt like I was being selfish! I mean, didn't I just convince myself three weeks prior that this guy was giving me everything I ever wanted out of a relationship? Everything but a minute to my fuckin self! I started to notice that my carpets needed to be vacuumed, my bathroom needed to be cleaned, I was three weeks overdue for going to the market, a mani-pedi was in order and I must've been living in some adolescent version of infatuation! Once coming to the realization that something had to give, I spent that night in emotional turmoil! I was tossing and turning and reminding myself of NOT being distracted, no less the same damn way I had been distracted before, except this time I didn't have ANY feet in the street, he didn't have a job because he had just come home from jail and I was paying for almost everything! Oh say it ain't so! What was once viewed like the answer to my prayers has turned into a friggin nightmare. I began to notice that if I didn't respond to his text messages fast enough that he would have sent me 8 messages and the last one would always say something like, "I guess you decided to move on. Have a nice life!" My rational side said that was a red flag but the part of me that liked getting head thought it was cute that he seemed jealous. It was almost like he was the usually insecure girl in the relationship and I was the dope dealer with no time that didn't feel like being bothered anymore because I had gotten what I wanted already! Now, being that I have completely turned my life around and was no longer the professional liar, upscale bullshitter that just stepped off without word when something turned me left.......I decided that I was gonna take my new approach of communicating and explaining my current feelings on the situation so that he would know exactly how I felt and maybe somehow understand my position. I even tried to justify his behaviors of being excessive with my being used to being single and not being used to sharing my time with anyone. I talked to one of my younger cousins who told me that I was probably feeling overwhelmed because I hadn't allowed anyone in my life for so long. That it deemed overbearing to be suddenly bombarded with phone calls and visits and sex after not having those things shadowing me for a number of years. And she also told me that if I liked him that I shouldn't cut him off just because I felt smothered but that I should talk to him and explain that I need to have a day to myself on the weekend or that maybe we should only see one another every other weekend. Again I started to think, 'Maybe she's right! Maybe I've forgotten how to compromise!' And so I attempt to have a heart felt conversation with a 42 year old man who says that he only wants the best for me. I went on to explain the conversation with my cousin and how we should ease up a little bit because I need to re-learn how to share my life with someone. It sounded as if this conversation went really well and he expressed to me that he could relate with where I was coming from and that he was glad that I was willing to continue our growing relationship, even if it meant slowing down. It was like a weight had been lifted and I could breathe again! I was proud of myself for moving forward and being honest about how I felt as not to be deceiving or leading him on.
Now this is where it all went to shit: The very next day after this conversation, I had to get up early to take my oldest niece to school and work was pretty hectic the whole night and I had to get up early the next day for physical therapy, so I was looking forward to going home and crashing because the day seemed longer than three football fields put together! And don't you know that I get a message from dude asking me, "When are you ever gonna ask me to spend time with you? Or tell me that you want to see me?" I couldn't believe it! I was at my limit with the "full court press" from this guy and so I reply, "I'll ask you the 1st day that you DON'T ask me, which is never because you're always up my ass!" He then proceeds to say that he now has to question my sincerity and my motives in the relationship. I automatically blacked out! I think the only word I probably saw in that message was "motives". MY MOTIVES! You came into my life at a time when I no longer had ulterior motives! I was no longer that selfish, shallow, bitch that I used to be, not to mention I was paying for dinner half the time! MY MOTIVES! That was it! My reply message was nothing short of, "Fuck You! I'm through with this shit!" Needless to say I got 2,000 text messages that night from this stalker calling himself breaking up with me. Then when I woke up, I had more messages saying that he was sorry for going that far but he was ALWAYS going that far! If I didn't reply to any of his messages fast enough, he was going far, far, away like a million miles up and jumping out of airplanes with the shit he would say and now I had realized that he was CRAZY! After which he called me, and when I answered the phone with an attitude no less, he just says, "What's up? I was just talking to my homie and I was cracking up about........." I had to cut him off and say, "Uh, I don't have anything to else to say to you!" And he proceeds with, "Oh, Stop It!" So I follow with, "There's no 'stop it'! I'm through and I'm serious! I can no longer baby you through this situation because now I realize it's not ME being selfish, its YOU being crazy! From the beginning I told you that I didn't have time to cultivate a relationship because I had too many things going on in my life since I decided to write a movie and writing treatments for tv shows, going hard and being aggressive towards my writing career again. I'm sorry but I'm done! This is over!" *The title of this blog comes in here* I think there should be a statute of limitations on how old you can be and still have the allowance for temper tantrums! Once I hung up the phone with this 42 year old man I began getting messages that went like this: "I hope you die!" "You're a fuckin whore!" Please bitch die! Please!" I feel like in any minute that I could end up on a episode of "Snapped" or "The First 48" because this dude is REALLY crazy! Can anyone say, Prozac?

Until you walk a mile in my shoes...

I have a demon that has haunted me throughout my 20’s and 30’s. I’ve fought long and hard with this evil and there are battles that I’ve won and loss but the war…the war rages on!! What is this ugly three headed monster that hopped on my back in college and never let go? It’s my weight. In college and away from home, I gained a significant amount of weight. Due to my lackluster love life and indecisive career direction, I clearly didn’t give it much thought. In my final semester of school, I decided to fulfill my 1 credit of physical education with a step aerobics class. I never in my wildest dreams imagined all that I would gain from a simple 1 credit PE course. It became addictive. I went out and bought my own step with video included. Even when I wasn’t in class I was stepping away in my small one bedroom apartment. It felt good. Close to the end of the semester, I noticed that people I knew would walk by me in the hallways and not speak. I was baffled. What the hell was wrong?

I was determined to get to the bottom of this cold shoulder movement. The next person that walked passed and didn’t speak, I immediately did an about face, caught up to him and tapped him on the shoulder. When he turned around his wrinkled brow and shocked expression was even more troubling. “Why didn’t you speak when you just walked by me?” I inquired. In a very matter of fact tone he replied, “I didn’t recognize you. You look different.” That’s when it hit me like a wet towel smacking me on my bare ass. I was exceptionally smaller in size. I had lost over 40 lbs. It was absolutely amazing. In a matter of 3 months I went from a size 14-16 to a size 6!! I returned to my hometown with more sass and confidence than I ever had in college. I was back and had the body to prove it. I even had a new swagger to my step and loved every minute of my new found sunshine.

My sunny blue skies begin to turn cloudy and gray. The years that followed were not so kind to me mentally and physically. Thankfully, I never quite resurfaced as the size 14-16 I sported in college. However, it was a slow, steady progression back to a size 12. No longer was I happy in my skin or my jeans. Once I lost the swagger, I quickly jumped back into my fitness regime. The heart break of several bad relationships helped to melt the first 8 lbs or so but my dedication to myself aided in the reduction of the remainder of the pounds that needed to be shed. I knew then that my weight was a demon that I had to fight with physical activity. I gradually reduced to a size 10 and instantly felt more comfortable in my own skin. But I was nowhere near my fighting weight. I declared a battle won, because I never went back to the tombs of Lane Bryant or the like. Yet I was still lacking the spring in my step I once claimed.

I proclaimed my self esteem would continue to rise as I continued to lose. My hopes and dreams for a soul mate would come to fruition if I could just conquer this demon and boost my self confidence. I read a Victoria Beckham interview in which she said, “Confidence is sexy.” She is absolutely correct. I needed to bring my sexy back in the worst way. I was terribly frightened by my self- consciousness. It tugged at me mentally and affected the way I socialized with the opposite sex. At this point, I was in my thirties and single. I had to defeat this demon before it consumed me and stole my opportunity for a relationship. Although it is cliché, I must say in order to be happy with someone, you have to be happy with yourself.

My happiness was contingent on my weight loss struggle. I had passed age 35 and could no longer carry this demon with me for the rest of my life. As you age, it is significantly harder to shed those unwelcomed pounds. I needed to enlist drastic measures as an ally in my fight. I decided to consult a well known, highly recommended diet doctor and get some weight loss pills. In the first two weeks of this new battle, I lost 10 lbs. Needless to say, I was super pumped and back on the road to yet another victory. Secretly praying it would be the final battle and ultimate triumph over my arch enemy. I hit the gym hard, followed the prescribed diet to the letter and never strayed from my path. Yet, nearly four months later I had only lost 25 lbs. I was disheartened. Why couldn’t I lose this damn weight? I knew I was not the only single black female carrying around a huge demon. It was an all too familiar topic of discussion.

During a recent discussion, I became enraged with the opinions of a woman who was naturally a super slender size 1. She was talking about her job at a health insurance agency and how she had to determine the reason for an enormous surge in one of her client’s health insurance costs. She explained that the company had allowed their employees to get gastric bypass surgery through their insurance plan. She became very upset as she continued to explain her disbelief in the amount of women that took such actions to lose weight. “They need to just go to the gym and work it the hell out.” she exclaimed. How dare she accuse my fellow brethren and me of just pure laziness? The audacity of her statement infuriated me. She had no idea of my demon or my great effort. Nor the strength and will it takes to continuously fight the small battles in hopes of winning the ultimate conquest…the war! To her and all of those like her I would like to say… "The shoe that fits one person pinches another; there is no recipe for living that fits all cases." –Jung

Juliet without Romeo

Recently, my co-worker asked me if I had given up on men. I could not respond initially. My mouth was open and my mind was formulating thoughts but I couldn’t speak. I liken it to a puppy tilting their head to the side as if to process what you just said. In the time it took for my head to straighten from its tilt, my mind raced through several new scenarios in my “no sex in the big city” love life. If I was a movie critic and my love life was a comedy, it probably would receive 3 ½ out of 4 stars but I didn’t find anything comedic about her question or my current state of non bliss. Yet, with a smile, I replied, “Not just yet!” Unbeknown to her, I had mentally reviewed the past 12 months of letdowns in approximately 3.5 seconds and at the end I even had to chuckle.

In the early parts of last year a long lost love contacted me via Facebook. I hadn’t been in touch with him since I was 16 years old. I was excited to talk to him again because although we spent endless hours on the phone and hanging out, we never actually consummated the relationship. We conversed for several hours and he informed me that he was acting in a play downtown. I thought this would be the perfect opportunity for us to reconnect. I would get to watch him on stage and see if the feelings I once harbored for him were still alive. The night of the play, I was fierce. Stilettos, tight jeans and shirt hanging off one shoulder…needless to say I was quite sexy and felt very confident he would love the older, sexier woman. I was correct about his reaction but not so on point with my own. After the play, we met in the lobby as he greeted the play’s attendees. I greeted him with my stellar smile and a warm, sensual hug. I felt him tighten his grip as we hugged and knew instantly that I had him. Now the days and weeks following the play had me quite puzzled. He would make comments about our embrace as though it was not mutual and I was coming on to him. Is he for real? He would ask me if I was coming over to have a couple cocktails at his place but never did he once offer to take me out on a date. Once I reached my irritation threshold, I realized that he was scared. I finally called him on his fears and he admitted he was not as bold as he wanted to portray. Unsurprisingly, we haven’t talked much since then.

Since I hadn’t talked to him in over twenty years, I was not too upset that our late night chats had subsided. Keeping it moving, I met a guy at a club one night while celebrating a friend’s birthday. As I was perusing the club looking for my girlfriend, he stopped me, we chatted and I gave him my number. I gave it no further thought until he called the next day. We talked for almost 2 hours about ourselves and it was such an enjoyable conversation. He was very impressed with my love and knowledge of sports and I was equally impressed with his job, car, home and no children. I felt confident after the conversation and looked forward to possibly seeing him again. However, in true “no sex in the big city” fashion he never called me again. Something I have unfortunately grown too accustomed to.

In uncustomary fashion, I was set up by a couple girlfriends not too long after that encounter. I truly think it was out of pity but they claim that they just thought we might enjoy each other’s company. Now this scenario is hilarious. At thirty-seven, running out of time and options, you step outside of your comfort zone, box or whatever you want to call it when it comes to dating. The pickings are slim so you try your luck. He made first contact by way of text. I was extremely busy during this time and didn’t much mind the text. So following his lead, I text him back and this method of conversation continued until the late hours of the night. During the several hour textathalon, I found out that he was 45 and had a 23 year old son. Now, I have never dated someone that much older than myself but I figured If I stepped outside of my proverbial “box” than I might stumble upon the man of my dreams. It seemed like a possible great romance novel unfolding, but it was more like a Greek tragedy. Can you believe that three months later this 45 year old man was still texting me? Are you fucking kidding me? For some odd reason, this fool never once called. Through our text conversations, I gathered that he was shy. By now, the ice was not only broken but turned from an iceberg into a geyser. When I finally addressed the issue of my annoyance, he had the nerve to say, “I thought that is how you wanted to communicate!” Dude, you cannot be serious!! How the hell are you supposed to get to know someone through texting? At the age of 37, I have no time for games and refused to continuously entertain his text play.

On my 37th birthday, I celebrated at a club with some of my nearest and dearest friends. However, there was no beau in sight. Not at the pre-party, the main event or the after party….nowhere. I was supposed to be happy but happiness was the furthest thing from my thoughts. When the lights come on and it’s time to go home, the party may continue for everyone else but I would not be partaking in the drunken sexual festivities. I searched through my mental rolodex to see if there was anyone that I would even deem a booty call. Since I was stumped, I even scrolled through my phone from A to Z and I was SOL!!! Not even my ex-ex-ex could satisfy the urge I was feeling at this time in my life. I was badly in need of some meat. The fat round kind usually stuffed in a casing…if you get my drift. I’ve tried E-Harmony, Match.com, Tagged, My Space, Facebook and the pity “hook-up” and still came up dry…literally!! I found myself drunk, naked and laying across my bed mumbling, “O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo?”

Word Play

Have you ever gained someone and felt like you've lost something in life? Or have you ever lost someone and felt like you've gained something? How about thinking you want something to a certain degree because you feel like your life has been lacking it but when you finally receive it, you realize that your mind has desires greater than you can physically and emotionally handle as a human? Then that leaves me to thinking that maybe "I" am all there is, and the need to find companionship is a losing battle? I have always said that "words are my life" and now for reasons I CANNOT avoid, my life now only consists of words! When did affectionate begin to affect the way I feel about closeness? And when did closeness make me better appreciate being by myself? How come as soon as I set my mind to something........handsome distraction rears its ugly head? Am I being tested because I have already failed in the area of distraction in the past? Or am I being forced to choose writing as my true love because this is what I've decided to be married to until it blooms like flowers in the Spring?
Is life meant to be a Catch 22? Or does art imitate life, ultimately causing the "catch" in the first place?
I come out more knowledgeable and stronger in the end either way BUT life lessons sometimes SUCK!