Man Meat!
I have reached a new level of lusting after the opposite sex. After my bout with my buddy-boy-friend I got really fed-up with our "arrangement" and went in search something "better". In a moment that can only be described as pure stupidity I allowed myself to be taken out on a "date" with the son of my boss. Okay, I know there is a definite downside to "seeing" the relatives of my employer but at the time, I was curious and my curiousity won out.
Supposedly, he was an accomplished black man with a great political career and earning potential up the wahzoo. But outside of his degrees, clothes and car there was nothing worth mentioning.
I went out on a date and of course being a man with money he took me to the most expensive restaurant in town that would permit me to wear jeans. I was not really impressed but intrigued that he thought enough of me to try to make an impression. Again, I have been struggling with this nagging feeling about the "shelf-life" of this piece of "fruit" ever since my "outing" with Dane a few months ago.
This brother thought he was the shit for real. I mean, as soon as I got in the car he demanded a kiss...and there begins our physical relationship. So by the time the date is over, I was a little impressed with the car, feeling the apartment but noted a few areas of improvement that I could make in the near future if all went well, I love the entertainment and feel a little daunted about the what is about to happen next. I mean the brother must have dropped $100 on dinner and I am feeling a little obligated to make it worth his while. Don't act like you haven't been here and felt this kind of anxiety.
We fooled around and call it a night and I left feeling a lot less impressed, a little more shafted and really comfortable with the idea of NEVER talking to him AGAIN! The evening was not worth the effort, and there was nothing interesting enough about him to go back. But being a gutton for punishment I return a few weeks later, endure the maddening silences and the boredom of having nothing in common and promise to call.
A month later we hook up again and as I negotiating with the nastiness that has multiplied and migrated to various parts of his bathroom I pondered the reality of my dating crisis. Take away the big screen TV and the car and he was no different from the brothers that I avoided everyday. There was nothing that set him ahead of the pack short of the convinence of knowing and working with his mother and is that really a good reference considering. I would hate to think that I was just another Secretary that he was boinking on the side.
So I have decided to call it off. I has been a little over a week since I called or saw him and I don't think I should have to explain my disappearing act. He can call it whatever he wants I am DONE! I have no interest in him - none...if I had to wake up next to him from here until the day I died I would divorce him tomorrow. Honestly.
The only dilema I am facing right now is whether I should call him to deliver the news or if I should just not bother with contacting him ever? Right now option two sounds really good. How do you break off something that was just beginning, but I really do think, in my defense, I did not encourage anything.
So in search of something new and a little more me I went to the club to dance my troubles away and there I met a new guy. MAN MEAT! Like going to the grocery store, approaching the butcher and guiding him through the selection of FINE ASS MEN. I mean the pickings in the club that night were slim and there was nothing too interesting on the shelves that drew more than a glance from me but I had to admit when I found myself without a dance partner and he slid up on me I was more than happy to oblige him. When we broke apart for a water break I needed to know his name, if he was single, if he had all his teeth and was avaible for breakfast after we left the club. It was great. We talked, something I never do when I go out dancing. What is the point of wasting precious time talking to someone you are not going to see after that night. I am not interested in exchanging phone numbers with someone that I have only seen in the darkness of a club...what if you turn into the hunchback in the light of day..forget personality I don't want to be send stroking your lump in public!!!
We talked. A whole conversation. And I was really hooked. I loved every minute of it and I had to get to know him better. I needed his number and know his last name. Don't act like you don't play the name game in your head when you meet someone that shows under your marriage-radar. We talked and went to breakfast, talked some more and I was not turned off. When do you come across a person so compatiable? I hope he does not turn out to be in serial killer. This is the shit your hear about on Cold Case Files! I can see it now - my mangled body is found stiff somewhere in the desert and ten years later we find out it was the guy I flirted with at the club. It would be just my luck.
I called him last night something I don't ever feel like doing with Mr. Fast-Car. We talked some more and I did not get bored once. I just felt like I should be heading to Brooklyn to eat breakfast and laugh about all things Trinidadian.
By the end of the conversation we had covered almost everything. Wow, seriously nice.
I am impressed.
My only question is, where are all the men like him in Newark?
My Baby Smells Like Stinky Cheese!
Can you guess which one is my baby and which one smells like stinky cheese? These are my two favorite men, my nephew and my friend, in the world! I can't express how much I love these two guys. Aren't they cute?
I took this picture one Sunday when they were both snoozing on my bed. If I would I would blow this one up and put it on my wall. I guess you have to be there to really enjoy this one.
Life in the Ghetto!
This morning I woke up to this. Now don't misunderstand, I do know that Newark is a rough place to live and anything can happen. But never right in front of my house. This picture was taken from the living room window of my aparment. My front door is just beyond the black gate!
Now as much as this looks like a few bricks in a window and the definite work of a pissed off woman the rumors say different.
Word on the street is that right around 12-1am this morning a few guys rolled up in a car and one got out with a baseball bat and went to work on this car. After a few moments he was done and he returned to the car and left. The car belongs to a woman that lives in an apartment building across the street. I am still in awe at the whole thing. What did she do to deserve that from a guy. When I saw her (a little after I took my pics) she seemed pretty calm about it.
It must have been ridiculous!
What man would go through so much trouble. He had to call up his boys around 11:30pm and say "Pick me up guys", get dressed and get out the ole bat, I don't know any man that would have a bat that handy but let's pretend he had it under his bed. He gets all ready and with three of his closest buddies he rides over to my section of town. What I don't understand is what friends are those that would risk getting picked up by the police just cause their friend had beef.
I would expect that a man would just cuss her out and call her a bitch and that would be it. But to come out of our way to shatter the windows of her car, that is too girly for me. Excuse me mister thug sir, but you could have done better really.
All four windows, including windshield and back window are out.
There was no damage to the body of the car. No tires were slashed, just the windows. She finally put bags over the windows after the police left and I don't know what the report was, I assume she knows who did it to her car. I hope they find out soon I would hate to find out later is was someone from the chicken shack down the street that did not like the way she ordered her three piece meal.
Dating or Something Like It II
I ventured into the dating scene and recoiled from it. There is something disturbing about dressing and garnish-ing my assets like some kind of holiday ham and presenting myself to a total stranger. "Am I appetizing enough for you baby?"
I can't imagine myself doing this over and over again in the hopes of finding a good man much less one that I believe to be my match! I am not sure that I can do this online dating thing either. How scary is it that in a profile about yourself those things that you lie to yourself about become fact. True attributes of your personality and published for others to see.
I came across this profile online while browsing and found it interesting enough to post. A guy in my age bracket and considered an 89% match for me wrote this about himself:
He's wanted in several states for being a hopeless romantic. He's very spontaneous. He's been known to make it a blockbuster night or jet off to exotic travel destinations on a whim. We have received tips that he's currently in the New York City area.
What makes these self-assessments accurate? I would hate to get all dressed up, with my good pants and best earrings on to go out with Mr. Spontaneous and find out at dinner that he chews with his mouth open, or bites his fingernails. I can deal with a man that has kids or is on parole. Those kinds of issues/problems/concerns can been addressed before we go out on a date, before I commit a night out of my life to spend with him.
There were still others that thought pretty well of themselves. Some were funny and interested while others left me wondering. When it came to my own evalutation I had to break my profile into my likes and dislikes, I thought that was the best way to describe myself without setting someone up for disappointments or assumptions.
Well-educated and intelligent. Reliable.
I am a straight forward person very clean very sexy, smart...
I went out with this guy that did not like to wear underwear. Although it was a good conversation starter and good for him, the idea that there was nothing but a piece of cotton between my stuffed shrimp, the rest of the world, me and his dangling participle (Oscar) was too much. I got halfway through my first shrimp and had to stop.
I can't deal with the I-am-a-successful-businessman types either. Considering that I am neither an investor nor a client, the fact that you make $xxx,xxx is not going to make my head spin any faster if you are a toe-tapping, open-mouth-chewing, nose-picking-in-public freakazoid. I have sat inside a Jaguar, BMW and Mercedes speeding off to some fancy restaurant or fun time but none of it compares to the sound of my buddy-boy-friend's red Chevy rumbling into my driveway, or the smell of my first boyfriend's "Clunk".
I have found that a lot of the men that I have reviewed online have quote honesty as one of they best attributes, but isn't that like saying you type 60wpm in an interview or that you know a little Spanish when you only got up to Spanish II in high school? Me llamo es...
My girlfriend is having a lot more fun with Match.com than I am. My curiosity in the opposite sex found on that site had dwindled. The reality that we are all in this dating supermarket and our cans are still on the shelves after 5, 10, 15 years is not comforting. I don't want to be a SBF (single, black female) seeking a SM (single male) btw 23-35 year old. That is not what I want, that is not my profile, not my personality in a nutshell, I don't fall into the Sensual dating category, I don't like strawberries and whip cream (fact is I am allergic to strawberries) I don't like long walks (I don't think anyone I know enjoys walking for long periods of time, in this day and age is it still considered exercise?). I don't dinner by candlelight or roses with stuffed animals or wine. Give me fuzzy socks and a sandwich in a brown paper bag anyday. I am not about creating the illusion of romance according to Hollywood. Breakfast in bed is not practical, spending over $100 on lace underwear only to have it thrown on the floor is not worth it to me. Where are all the men that like wife-beaters and sweats on a woman, or who prefer bare feet over heels and wrestle on Friday nights after a movie?
I don't like the concept of advertising me for a computer to determine a suitable match based on the often inaccurate self-assessments of people who are near their dating expiration dates.
Musically Challenged II
The following is a response to a recent article published by Essence Magazine:
I can’t tell you how timely your article was in the latest edition of Essence (January 2005). I was recently online watching a few music videos on Yahoo’s Launch website during my lunch hour at work and what I witnessed made me abandon my lunch, open up my webpage and publish my confusion.
There were full-grown (apparently mature) black women, (sisters!!!) losing their minds in fabricated clubs and dancehalls. It is not just the rump-shakers-for-hire that are lending to the objectification of black women but some of the female artists themselves. http://excerptsfromadiary.blogspot.com/2004/12/musically-challenged.html
Artists, not to be confused with musicians, according to Nelly’s definition, are guilty of sending a crippling message to our young black generation. Our black men are learning that it is okay to categorize our women as hoes, bitches, skanks and tricks. A woman that is starved for physical attention and emotional affection is a ho, a woman that does not put out is a bitch. A woman that expects a monetary or emotional reward for her uninhibited morals is a trick. Our women are being taught that these are categories that they fall into and refer to one another is this way.
Talib Kweli’s comments, in all his unearthly wisdom, really sent me into orbit. “I believe an artist’s responsibility is not to uphold the morals of society…[but] to speak honestly about what’s going on and what people are going through.” But if the Hip Hop industry, the portal through which many of our urban youth catch a glimpse of those ebony brothers and sisters that have “made it”, only depict the Nelly’s platinum pendants, Melyssa Ford’s eye candy and guns, drugs and violence of 50-cent, can’t it be reasoned that the starts in our eyes, the ones we want to be just like “when we grow up” are setting the standards for our morality. There isn’t a rapper out there (correct me if I am wrong) that has talked about those black women out there that go past college and enter the workforce and provide for their families. Not one rapper that has not glorified the single-mother-absent-father phenomenon that is constantly repeating itself when they glorify the wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am syndrome in their videos.
Therein lies the moral limbo stick that our culture has set up for our youth to bend over backward to try to get under. It seems like the bar is being set lower and lower, the raunchier the images, the more raw the lyrics, and the edger the music the more albums it sells.
But I believe your article hit the nail on the head. In all of the “popular” music videos that I have seen, heard of and endured I have yet to find an accurate depiction of myself in any of the highly edited booty shots. I have never gone to a club in 4 inch stilettos and hotpants, nor have I ever found myself climbing all over strange men in dark corners. These are not the black women I see everyday, nor the ones that I aspire to be. Our healthy reflections of ourselves are too few and far in between. Music videos have set the trend for the latest clothing, shoes, hair and makeup in our society, we have all permitted and accepted that, why shouldn’t we hold them responsible for the moral trend that they are setting as well.
