Lucky Number 7

It's about time I fill you in.

       7. That's how many "men" I supposedly met that night we went out to Club Rebel. Honestly, I give my number out to anyone who asks for it. "Seven?!" My cousin practically yelled in my ear, "Why so many?" "Because I could," I responded like the smart-ass I was raised but followed up with, "Seven guys means seven dates." At least it does to me. If I work it right, I can do a date a week. That's almost two months worth of entertainment. Some guys will want to see you immediately. Others will take a while to smooth talk into taking you out --but overall, you just get to meet people.  Why seven? Because I know that I don't like most men I meet. And some are tougher to coax into a decent date. Seven gave me a better chance than 3. & Lots better than one. The thing is,most men aren't deserving of your time. Thy think they're so suave. That they've said the right things. But they have no idea what they're up against. When you don't want a man, you don't want him. & it's been a tough battle finding what I desire. 

        Whore. You might want to call me that. But, in reality, it's just your own subconscious talking. Or perhaps your own inability to enjoy someone with becoming physically involved with them. I pity you. The way I work the situation is by offering nothing more and nothing less than the full truth.  I'm not looking for anything. We can be friends.  I'm busy. With those three phrases I've covered all bases. Here's what I've really said: I'm not interested in moving forward with anyone --especially not you --and even if I did, I don't have the time for it.  

    I don't go out on weekdays, I add when they ask when I'm free. This is my only (partial) lie. I like to keep men confined to the weekends. I don't lose sleep on men I don't know and if I am going to be a little late to work, it isn't going to be off of some random nigga taking my sleep time. If I've given you a weekday, you should understand the value of my time must be matched by the value of you. Now, you might think me cold. Unemotional. A bitch, even. Oh well. The thing is, allI want is a little entertainment. I don't want someone I have to tend to. I don't have the time for it. I also don't want him to feel like he'll be swimming in it anytime soon --if at all. 

        I don't do "Blockbuster" nights. I might be the reason Blockbuster went out of business. There are way too many men who want to lay up with you the first chance they get. You'll know how "into" you they are when you push for something other than a make-out session. The truth is, most men stop calling me because I just want to be taken out. But I've realized that... I simply don't want them all in my shit.  Men think that they can get you alone in a room and smooth their way into a kiss on the neck and move towards whatever else and, don't get me wrong, some can --but only if I want you too. You must be out of your mind to think that I want you all to do this. If I'm physically attracted to a guy -and want to take it to another level, there is no questioning how I feel. He'll know it. If you and I sit and have a conversation about how I don't have sex --a conversation I am well versed in, there is no chance, hunny. Some of these men just want company. Or they're too dumb to understand that they've lost the battle before it's begun. So when I'm asked what I like to do, I also give the real answers: I like to lay in my bed and tweet. Alone. I listen to music. Alone. I read. Alone. I let them know that I'm not looking for company, I'm looking for entertainment. My bedroom is not a venue. 

         I enjoy male company more than that of females. I like to be escorted. To be treated. I like to feel like I'm with a "protector". I can't get that when I'm out with females. That's when I  feel like the protector. That's why I date so much. I like male company -- but these guys won't play the fool for too long. Eventually, they get tired of taking me out with nothing in return. That's when I go back out and stack up on my next 7 dates. And to be honest, I love attention. When you're out with a guy, he pays attention to you. If he took the time to take you out, he actually likes you --at least a little. So when you go out with him, it's all smiles and compliments. You feel special. You feel wanted. Who doesn't want that? 

     Honestly, I don't think I'm a bad person. Actually, I think I'm a great person which is why I understand why these guys elect to take me out and continue to call once I've grown bored. There isn't a two-way connection. We aren't meant to be. You meet these guys and you know, from the jump, that it won't work out. That he's not exactly your type. His flaws are all too visible. But a girl gets lonely. And these boys help ease the pain. For an hour or so, you forget that your heart is somewhere else. Meanwhile, you get to eat some good food. & I prefer candlelight. So I apologize, but until the day my Prince Charming comes back to me, I'm going to take these boys for what they're willing to give. No more. No less. But I promise you, I let them all know in advance. 

      What's more bizarre is how 7 men can't add up to one. If you ain't the one, you just ain't the one. So I date them all, just to make sure. One date is all it takes. Actually... one exchange. One conversation. One glance. And they know it, too. There's no way they think I'm the woman they'll end up with. And if they do, it's because I, ultimately, wouldn't be a bad choice. But when that person is the one there is no doubt. It just is. 

      And so I've taken on a new route. I date. It's what I do. Because... people are awesome. You can have an amazing time with someone if you simply participate.  It's great conversation. And you get to pick out a killer outfit.  And honestly.... it's practice. Dating guys puts you into uncomfortable situations. You meet their friends when you don't want to. Parents in the most awkward places. You simply know how to be. You can actually talk to them. You can figure out what  men typically like and what they don't. Honestly, dating grooms you into the significant other you should be. Technically, I'm single. But I'm learning how no to be without my mishaps affecting the relationship I really want. 

This guy told be recently that I'm too vague... I'm working on that. But if you're trying to figure out what's really going on in my head..just stay tuned. I'm in a very FML situation and trying to clear my mind in the most appropriate order.

*sigh* 

More coming soon. 

I'll Tell you What I Want

See I would give my love anyway I could give. But things aren't always the way that they seem. I'll tell you girl, I've been there. My heart would break everyday & every night I would cry. But that was so, so long ago. I know I just couldn't see what I needed for me... [&] If I fall in love again, he'll be more than just a friend.  

- Keyshia Cole, "If I Fall in Love Again"

It certainly has been a while.

          I don't talk to anyone. I mean, both in I'm not involved and I have no one to speak to lol. This passed weekend, my friends visited. I talked so much that I haven't had a voice since Monday morning. My throat wasn't used to it. It really feels like I went to Six Flags. Thing is, I rarely speak. Not that I can't. I'm free to pick up the phone at any given time. Depending on how much free time I have, I know who to call. If I want to talk all night, Sabrina's there. If I want to talk till a decent hour (lol) Carl's number is dialed. If I just want to hear someone's voice, Crystal's the homie for it (that's my baby, forreal). If I want to catch up with pleasantly paced conversation or shit that's really important? Ashley.  There are plenty more people to call in between, but for the most part, I sit in bed and listen to music. Sometimes, I listen to the same song on repeat for days. Most recently on repeat is J. Cole's "Hit it in the Morning" (that joint crank,  right?!?) Truly though, I do entertain myself. As boring as my time alone might sound I'm perfectly comfortable.... That is, until I get lonely. 

          What am I looking for? That's the question many might ask themselves as much as I do. Or it might be the question you have for me. Carl sure asked. Sometimes I sit & think of the loneliness and decide that yes, I would like to have someone by my side.  But then, there are other days that are so jam packed with... me that I'd rather not have additional obligations. Because, let's face it, a relationship is an obligation. Rather, it should be. Some people see that as a bad thing, I see it as a necessity. I don't think you should take on a relationship without being willing to give your all to it. It's not fair. It's not right. 

        Last night, as I talked to Carl, we tried to figure me out. What is it I want? The low-down is, I want it all without the hassel. As Carl said, I want the best of both worlds. Time & time again I've tried to write this post in the best manner possible but I can't figure out any simpler way to say it except that I'm... ready. I've never been ready before. & If I said I was, I lied. I simply knew I had the potential to be. I was the type of girl was simply ready to be in love. I wanted love. I yearned for love. I fought for love. Chased love. Cried love. Laughed love. Love was my main concern. Nothing mattered more. I took on relationships with my heart. Open and willing. Caring about nothing more than how a man could make my heart skip beats. Adoring that person beyond compare. Deciding that if my heart chose him, all else was null. Now I'm not saying that the feeling of love in itself isn't important, I had simply failed to understand the things love needs in order to thrive. 

        Love needs two people. Both people need to be in love (or willing to try) in order for a relationship to move forward. But that's not science & I'm sure we've all heard that before. But Love also need two distinct people. Like... each person needs to be their own person. Sometimes we give too hard. At least I do/did. I used to give it all I used to make up my mind and say, "Ok... If I'm going to be in love, I'm going to give him everything. I'm going to give him all  of me. Because he deserves that." But then we get lost in that person. The bit of time we used to take for ourselves, we give away. Because we want  to. And there's nothing extremely fucked up about that, it just turns into an issue when you give up too much of your time. I've done that before. 

       I need someone who lives regardless of me. I want the time that is spent with me to be a treat, not a chore. I love a man with responsibilities. A schedule. Shit to do. I like to know that time spent with me is an effort. If he can see me, something was put on hold, but nothing pressing. (Truthfully, I like to feel very important.) I want time spent with me to be an escape from the world, because that's how I'll use him. I don't want someone I have to or am going to see everyday. I want to look forward to his company every time. Some might say it's impossible, but I refuse to sit and not try. I don't want to be bored with a man. I don't want him to become a part of my life. I want him to be an exceptional addition to the beautiful life I already live. I don't want to think when I'm with him. I simply want to be. I don't want to worry. I dont want to fight. &  I know that all of that is inevitable, but if I know that I only have one day with him, I'm not going to fuck up that one day by being annoying. I'll admit, in the past I might have. But this is not the past. And I don't want any more pain. I'm tired of it. I never want to feel anger again. I'm so tired of it. 

      If you haven't noticed, I get tired. Often. & men are like clothing. Sometimes, they're only fit for the season. Some are cool, but they just don't hold up in the long run. Some are nice at first, but poorly made if you look close. Other's are cheap and you can tell from afar. The man you're with defines you. (As do the clothes you wear.) And honestly, with the next I'm with... "God willin, I'll be chillin on a boat, nigga. Life's a gamble. I ain't dealin with no broke nigga." (J. Cole's  Higher) Additionally, if an article of clothing (or a man) doesn't fit like it needs to, you end up throwing it out. Or you lose it. Or you give it away. Either way, you don't want it like you should. I want my things to stand the test of time. I want quality. I want resilience. I want impeccable workmanship in a versatile product. I want it to work with everything. Fitting for all occasions depending on how I work it. Like Jay said in Dirt off Your Shoulders, "From the bricks to the billboards. Grams to the Grammys". No, I don't need a drug dealing rapper, but I need a man who can go to my family cook outs and corporate events. I'm not a dinner & a movie girl. I'm a dinner & a nightclub typa chick. But I get tired of the same thing. With someone always in my face. Doing the same shit. Making the same mistakes. 

        My main battle right now is deciding which invitations to take on. I'm also tired of wasting my time. You see, men are attractive, so we let them date us. But we know from that very first conversation how far this can go. So... sorry sir with the Gold teeth, no matter how nice you are to me, I just can't do it. & hard working boy in retail, I admire you... but you don't have enough pennies to entertain me properly. & it's not even (completely) about the pennies now, but you might not have pennies later... and that is a problem. Then there's the idea of, well... what are we going to do. I told Carl last night, I'm not 15 and making out doesn't excite me. Groping doesn't interest me. Sexuality is a complete other beast, but dirty, unconfined lust (with someone I barely know) isn't my game. 

     So when it comes to the dating game, unfortunately, I'm sitting this one out. I'll play when I find a capable contender. In the rarely eloquent words of Miss Minaj,"Competition? Why, yes. I would love some." I'd just... rather be in my own company than with someone I don't like. Or someone who isn't worth my time. Not to say I want to marry the next man I date... but I want to marry someday. You can't blame me for giving a fuck. [Instead of giving a fuck.]

Thanks for listening, yall.

#TeamCelibate lol <3 

The Freakin Weekend Part 3: Sufficient in Solitude.

He got me out my momma crib.  Then he helped me get my momma a crib. 

- Kanye West, "Big Brother."

     I can go a while without getting lonely. But eventually it kicks in again. To be honest, there was a point when I tried to fill the voids in my heart -- rather ignore because my methods for fulfillment didn't work and masked the issue instead. I would be more inclined to call men for comfort than to call people who really loved me... and I know this is going to sound super corny, but when I get lonely now, I call my mother. 

     I hated my mother for a really long time. Some people hate to hear me say that. And while I'd love to lie and say I always loved her, I'd be lying. It's far too much to explain here, but I had my reasons. Mostly because I didn't quite see my mother as my mother until I was good and off to college. The periods when I hated my mother were the points when I almost succeed at destroying myself. I willingly gave myself to men who didn't deserve me. I found myself losing myself. After having lost so much more than myself, I see the true value of things now.

    I loved my friends more than I loved my family. That's because I had my friends when I didn't have my family. But luckily I had my family there as guardrails to make sure I didn't fall into the gutter. And that's how I've made it this far. I know that's a vague synopsis, but I can truly only say so much. What I will say though is that there are times when I sit alone and thank my brother for how far I've gotten. Sometimes, I even consider kneeling on the cheetah print rug beside my bed and praying to gods I don't believe in. All of them. In case one exists and not the other. I'm not ready to put all my chips in one basket just yet. 

  This Sunday, I sat in my room alone and for the first time in a while, I noticed that I was alone. I mean, Sundays are the loneliest days of the week when you're single. My roommate was in his part of the apartment cheffing up vegetables for a girl who has been there almost 4 days now (I say has cuz she was there when I woke up Sunday and was there when left this morning & it's Wednesday.) I typically try to stay away from couples... as if I might catch something. I mean, there's nothing worse than being around love when you aren't in it. It's both nauseating and envy inviting. I want part of neither feeling. As I sat in bed (comfortable as hell) I looked around and realized I had no one. No one to come lay with me. No one to hold me. No one to tell me they love me, and that's what I miss the most. I think that's what trips women up the most. You just want to be loved even if it's a lie. You feel like you have something when someone is saying that to you. Like you finally mean something. 

    I keep a picture of my brother on my nightstand. The one above. It's a terrible picture, isn't it? And really he's only half-way in it. I'm the focal point. I had to have been maybe two years old and it was the time frame when my mom had cut all my hair off because I wouldn't let anyone comb it. (Later on in life, when I would cry while getting my hair done, my mom would call my brother into the room, "ENVER!" and I would sit and sniffle the boogers into my mouth while I held back tears. Meanwhile  my mom yanked and Enver towered over me with his arms crossed.) But no matter how much of a homeless little boy I look like in that photo, I can't get passed the smile on my brother's face. & the fact that the picture was taken in the back seat of the red '88 Cavalier we had. I don't ever remember him being in the back seat with me although I remember countless times getting kicked out the front. There's a little sister thing about my big brother being in the back seat with me that reassures me that the didn't hate me. He might have even liked me.  So that's why I'm positing it here. Because it means too much to me to care about what I look like. Besides, when you Google pictures of siblings, it's two white kids or two black kids and my fmaily is a healthy mix of skin tones. We like versatility. & PLEASEE tell me this pic isn't sooooooo 80s its fuckin beyond awesome. Y'all know I love the 80s. All two years I lived it lol ;)

     If you haven't noticed yet, I couldn't love me mother because I had willingly given all my love to my brother. After  my brother passed, my mother asked me, "Did you love Enver more than you loved me?" Very plainly I answered her, "Yes, I did." Now you might think that was harsh, but I don't think it hurt her at all. I think she knew the whole time. Truth be told, I think we all loved my brother more than we loved each other. He was the man in our lives. (Except for my sister, I guess --but I don't doubt she feels the same to some degree.)

      He reminds me of what's important. He's the only person who could ever keep me grounded. If it wasn't for him, I'd have been running around like the rest of them out there.  I remember that some random man can never fulfill me. That having a man in my bed means nothing for me and even worse for him. I keep the picture there to make sure I make a conscious decision if and when a man ever sees my bed. I remember how good I have it. Fully employed and inevitably moving forward. I remember that one day, I'm gon' by my momma a house, even if I don't have one for myself yet. I remembered that I deserved everything I was sitting around staring at. Even the bright city lights shining outside my window.
    
      He's the reason for me. The reason why, even though I have a post called One Night Stands, it's not what you think. The reason why in Birds of a Feather, I claimed my place as eagle and soared alone. It's hard to be alone. To see people posting up pictures of themselves and significant others all happy in love. I want to be bitter. I want to play the "she aint even all that" game, but I can't bring myself. The key to being alone and being ahppy is to find love elsewhere. Look for love in the places they will never falter. In people you never have to question. Those who truly never have to say it. Like I said, I call my mother. Call me what you want. I'm my mommy's little girl & damned proud of it. 

      It's not that I don't need no man, it's that I don't need no man, right now. I'm not going to lie and say I wouldn't like the company. That I don't want to date. That I don't want to get married had have children one day. It's just that... that day ain't today. So even while I'm excited about future possibilities, It don't mean nothing to me. I already have a man in my life: My big brother.

And now... as I get ready to leave work, I can't wait to go home to my empty bed & my book of Homeric poems :) Cuz I'm the one payin rent in that muthafucka!!!!  whoop whooooopp!! lol

The Staring Game (Part 2): Gave My Number to ANOTHER Rapper.

         

      I don't want a boyfriend at the moment. Unless of course he'd like to be part-time as I discussed in my post, "Part-Time Boyfriend Needed: Accepting Applications Now." But the truth is that sometimes, I get lonely, not for physical satisfaction, simply for the presence of someone other than myself. That's when The Staring Game happened.... again.

       I love New York City because entertainment is always at your fingertips.  I was walking to my train as I normally do: A slow strut (like I'm walking to the altar). There are so many people on the street and I'm never really in a rush. So I take long strides dow the city streets and try to see if there are any cute guys. That's not all I look at though, I look at the girls, too! I look at everyone. I had a conversation with my cousin a while ago about New York fashion; there is so much individuality here. Granted, particular types of people have a particular way to dress but there are so many different types of people here that every outfit is interesting (to say the least). People get dressed here and I absolutely love it. So when I'm tromping down Fashion Ave in 6-inch heels, I don't look out of place.  I can look beside me and see girls just like me, walking on their tippy-toes with their heads held high. It's nothing short of fabulous. 

       The Staring Game paid off quickly this time around. My new friend, we'll call him 21 (because he's 21 and works at Forever 21) decided to follow me into Macy's as I shopped for a new mattress. He stood by patiently. I didn't expect him to stay the whole time but he did. & he didn't press up either. He didn't input his opinion. He didn't ask if he could "help break the bed in". He wasn't gross. He talked little. Asked me questions about myself. Held conversation. He was a sweetheart.  When he told me he worked at Forever 21, I started to feel like I usually do about men with no degrees, like I mentioned in my last post. Nothing wrong with his grind, his grind just isn't up to par with mine is all. There's something about him not being able to afford the things I can afford that is a bit of a turn off. But I didn't hold it against him. 

       Truth is, I was bored and I hate having to go back to Jersey. So I always stall any way I can. "We should get something to eat," I said. Eventually we agreed to meet his friends at Burger King, (I know, y'all. I know.) I got myself some fries and settled in for conversation. Thing is, his friends were a cool group in that they were all genuine. I mean that... they allowed me to know them. To sit amongst them as an equal and had conversation with me that was beyond just me. Without trying to get at me. Without any "game". I got to... hang out.  They allowed me to be one of the boys for just a little while as one of them took on the "I'm the realest nigga out there" attitude and explained to me in detail all of the girls he was messing with. After each story he'd ask, "Does that mane me a dog?" "Nope, you're a regular guy," I would tell him. 

      But it happened again, I met another rapper. At the table, I ended up finding out that 21 is also an aspiring Rapper, but unlike the philosopher rapper I met the other day, 21 didn't brag to me about it. He actually didn't mention it, his friends did. They claim he's talented, but maintained that he's humble. I really do have a soft-spot for the aspiring Hip-Hop artist (not particularly the rapper) and 21's taste in music pleased me (his recent listens ranged from J. Cole to Black Eyed Peas). 

    Point of this story is, I fuckin love New York, because it was easy for me to meet this guy and have a genuine care-free night full of interesting conversation. That would never happen in Rhode Island, let me tell ya. My brother-in-law told me I should be roommates with a girl so that I can make friends in the city, but I can make friends on my own -- in a bizarre, maybe dangerous way, but on my own nonetheless. & I'm glad I decided to hang out with this kid and his friends because I feel like I met... people as opposed to having met a guy.  I think this is because when 21 had asked my if I'm involved with someone I said... "Yes, with myself." Additionally, I initially had thought that him & his friends were gay & I like (most) gay men the best out of all the people in the world. Especially the ones who are competition for me when it comes to labels. :) I don't trust many other females & men try to get in your pants too often... gay men are my happy medium. So I continued conversation with him, unaware that he was straight until he made me aware. But I had gone into this looking for friendship & came out on top. Even if nothing comes of this (which it wont) at least I had one good night of entertainment. 

Mission Accomplished. Good fuckin game :) 

You Gotta Pay to Play.

 Standing on my monopoly board. That means I'm on top of my game. Eminem, "No Love"

       "You only think this food is good because it's expensive," he said from across the table. He was half upset that I picked this place out for our Valentine's day dinner. I'd made it a point to get a good dinner out of him since he was so bent on being cheap. When I was with him I pretty much had to "save up" my points and prove I deserved to be taken out to dinner. Special occasions and holidays. He was more like a stingy parent than a boyfriend.

       So I decided that if he was going to act like a parent, I was going to treat him like one. You know how you buy the affordable stuff for yourself, but you ask your parents for the things you can't afford? Especially while you're in college. Normal college kids don't go out to eat or eat a full, nutritional meal until your parents come to visit for Parent's Day Weekend. If you're not familiar with Parent's Day Weekend, it's like Thanksgiving in college --food and family-- except you don't have to go home. If you're a female, you have a second source for meals: Men. I made us reservations at Mama's on the Half Shell. They don't have a website, but if you click that link, you'll see that this place is top rated. I mean, top 10 at times because the food is that good.  It's really not that expensive though. I mean... my meal always is because I'm the type of girl who orders a steak, medium well with lobster tail on top. Plus an appetizer. And a drink. And a juice. And a desert. And the place isn't fancy. There's a hardcore bar with flat screens that play nothing but  ESPN  and art littering the wall. No need to dress up for this place.  But the food really is good. They have these potatoes skins with lump crab and cheese on top. If you can have these on the regular, you don't need sex. Honestly.

         In New York City, price matters more than anything else. You really do get what you pay for even if the prices are outrageous. IT's just that, here, "cheap" has a different definition than it does anywhere else. The first way you learn this fact about The Big Apple is when you take on the task of looking for places. Simply put, THE RENT IS TOO DAMNED HIGH. You have to be blessed to find a studio in the city for under $1000. Those who know me, know I'm fond of the word "thousand", but I'm not quite prepared to pay that in rent. For $1180 a month (heat, hot water & electric included) I can get this view:

       Now isn't that worth it? It's not the greatest angle... and that's not my real apartment so, feel free to judge. But I'm not from here. They say flashing lights ain't for everybody... but they're for somebody. I'm not going to lie, I'm just excited to be here. In this city. Where I can listing to Hot 97 at any given moment and the subway (as dirty as it might be) will take me anywhere my heart desires. Sometimes, it feels like I'm bragging about it but... it's only because already feel like "Mama, I made it." I'm not going to get a head of my self, and believe me, this place isn't anything fancy and I'm certainly not a baller. It's in Harlem. 145th & Lenox. Not the greatest area. But there's something about moving to New York that seems like the beginning of a really good movie (I wonder which one...wink wink!).

      Thing is, where I'm from, nobody leaves. I remember I was in the 8th grade and had just been accepted to Moses Brown School --the best worst thing that ever happened to me. I was sitting in Geography/History class (you know a school system is broken when you have to combine courses) when this lady (she was an aid for the handicapped kid in our class) asked me why I was going to Moses Brown instead of Central Falls High School. "I went there," she said. All one really needs to do it click those links to see why I'd chose a leading private school over a failing public school to see why. When she asked me why though all that went through my mind was, "I don't want to be like you." Let me just say there are some Central Falls High graduates who are doing/will do much better than I am. But there are a small selection. My own sister is one of those people. But it takes a certain type of personal and relentless vigor to push yourself through a system like that and I'm sure the select few will agree with that. I didn't have that in me. I couldn't push the school. I needed my school to push me.

      My education has made me more valuable. Technically, I've been paying college tuition for the past 8 years.  I've cost $27,000 a year from 2002-2006 and $38,000 (plus $9,600 room & board) from 2006-2010.  I mean, I'm worth $298,400 at least. I just had lunch with my cousin and as I replayed all the things I was saying to myself... I sound like a pure bred gold-digger. But are Louis Vuitton pumps golddiggers? I mean, this LV wedge boot won't quit staring at me and saying $1,230. I don't do that. Or do I? Well I don't huff and puff at the price tags on certain things because I know that the quality of the product will be better. The better a product is made, the more the company has to charge you in order to cover costs. The more they charge you, the better the product because, now, the customer has a right to complain. Listen, I'll be god-damned the leather starts to peel on some LV pumps & don't let them hurt my little toe.  

      I'm worth the expense, too. There's been a lot of time and money put into this product (Ahem! ME!). For all the work I've been into myself, companies will get a solid worker with experience and capability. Likewise a man will at least get a highly educated woman who is doing well for herself. At least he won't have to take care of me (unless he wants to). But the same way you need to get your shoes shined and you purse cleaned everyone once in a while. Or how a car needs a tune up and a wax job. I'm also in need of maintenance. I at least need my hair and nails did. I think man should be willing to do that. I tried to get my ex (same dude mentioned above) to kick in for the hair expenses. "If you look like this, I'll pay for you to get your hair done every month," he said with fingers in my hair. I had just gotten my hair blow out by (the very rare) Dominicans in Baltimore. I won't front, he kicked in to get my hair done after that... ONCE. What happens when you stop getting your oil changed? When you stop shining those shoes? When you don't rotate the tires? When you keep your purse on the floor? You ruin the product. You didn't maintain. Your car blows up. Your purse falls apart. Your girl leaves you. 

      "You gotta just do you," my cousin said to me today. "Man, I'm trying marry me a Giants player," I responded. I alway pick the local team to make my gold-diggeing seem a little more feasible. In Baltimore I wanted a Raven, while in Rhode Island I just wanted to leave the state because we have real no team of our own.) But I'm not focused on men. I assured my cousin of that as I tried to assure myself. I'll admit, I get lonely in this big city. And I really just want someone to take me out to see the flashing lights. Have you ever watched fireworks alone? I have. There's nothing more solitary in the world. There's not a single action that can make you realize how alone you are more than to watch explosions in the sky when your heart is barely beating. 

      You might all read these posts and think I'm cold hearted. Part of me is. Like I said today, I have no remorse. I will spend ALL of a man's money if he lets me. Because his heart and his money shouldn't be the same thing. The this is with "Him" is that he allows me to play with his money but somehow doesn't let me play him. I like that. Because money is nothing and everything all in the same breath. If a man won't share his money, will he share his heart? And how much of his heart is on the table if he can't even put up the starting bid? 

      I'm looking for high-rollers, baby. Men who understand the stakes and know that bets at this table are approaching commas. No one holding a winning hand should be afraid to go all in. I don't barter with bluffers. That's why I've raised the stakes and uped the ante. He's got to either call or raise. But I always raise. Either a man has enough chips to bet. Or he doesn't. There is no in between.  If a man is unwilling to put up and invest, you might want to rethink being his partner. He might have a losing  hand. 

We all play games. My game is just better. 

    

Celibate and the City

      Bitches give up the ass. Sistas give up the ass. Sistas do it slow. Bitches do it fast. Jay-Z - Bitches & Sisters

    
       


        He doesn't want to hold me back, he says. I should live my life. & since I'm moving to a new place, there's no doubt I'll meet more people. I'll want to go out with friends.

I don't have friends. 
You'll meet someone else. 
But I met you. 
You know... there ain't many guys like me. 
You saying you're what I need?
I mean, yea... If not now.. then eventually.

      There's a difference between a man who likes you and a man who wants you. This fool thought he was gamin' me. I'm not gonna lie though. I like the way he talks. But what he hasn't quite grasped yet is that the ball is in my court. In all honesty, the ball is always in a woman's possession. You have to play the game as you would any other. Planned out, careful and with technique. He's in for it. 

Ladies. Take notes. I'll give you a second to get your pencils out. 

      The most important technique is Pacing. Pace the relationship. There was an exchange I wrote about in my last post, "Sex Craved Nice Guy," where this guy told me he only spoils 'girlfriends'. In turn, I told him that I only sleep with my 'boyfriends'.  He kept making dirty jokes and telling me what he could do... and then I asked, "Do you think you're getting this?" He responded by saying, "Nah, I know you ain't doing nothing for another 6-7months." Nice. I'm officially on 'Good Girl' pacing. He thinks he has to prove to me that he deserves it (which he does) when in reality... I'm not saving it for marriage. I'm saving it for carriage. I'm tryina see how far he will go. How much he will spend. But.. you already know, most guys say "Zip-Zero" and try to be stingy with dinero. But... if you work it right... he might light your wrist. Don't stop at this. He might wife you and buy you nice whips. All this just to find out  if you ride nice....  So take it slow. This way you earn his respect by making him earn whatever it is he gets.

        Manage your time with holidays as milestones. I don't really like.... like like this guy... but he likes me. & I have nothing better to do. On top of that, it's almost Christmas. I only see him once a week. I count there are about 8 weeks till Christmas. Which means, I should see him at most 8 times. Then there can be one week when "I really can't make it" and he won't want to act all needy, so I'm down to 7 times. I just have to force myself to bear for 7 weeks. If this seven weeks goes easily... I might be able to bear for another 7 weeks (Valentine's day) and maybe even another (My Birthday)! 

      Technique #2: Fake left; go right. Give them a taste, but not too much. I want him to spend, so I spend a little. I paid for our coffee at Starbucks... he's paying for everything else. He offered to pay for my Chloe perfume (and everyday, I regret saying no) but since then I've been window shopping at the stores we usually pass by. Because when I meet him on Friday, I'll say "OMG, I so want these!!" and they'll probably be cheaper than the perfume was so he should be willing to cough it up. (I'll let y'all know how that goes!) Needless to say, the next time he offers to swipe his card --the one in his wallet he pointed to and said "this one is just for you," --he will be signing the receipt. If you want a man to spend on you, let him know that you spend money on yourself. There's nothing worse to a man than a woman who wants to live off of him. The term "golddigger" to men is like "boogie-monster" to 3 year olds. And so, let him know that you don't need him... but if he wants you.. he needs to spend some change. 

        For a man to wait on pleasure has to feel like he's only one step away from hittin' it. For example, the other night, after a nice dinner, he took me to a part of Jersey City where you can see the New York skyline across the water/river/whatever.... it was gorgeous. I had had a Patron margarita and a glass of Riesling and was super relaxed.. but not drunk -- a Lady never gets drunk at dinner, but does take advantage of not having to drive. I guess, he felt that I was a little... done-zo as I started asking him questions about the last time he had a girl spend the night. Now I'm going to be honest with you all, I don't know if I wanted to go home with him. In reality... I just wanted to be held. When you leave a relationship... the hardest part to adjust to is sleeping by yourself. I would have used him for the body heat. But I'm adult enough to keep my clothes on (the first night I spend with a guy, I tend to keep ALL my clothes on.. like... my street clothes. lol) He said it wasn't a good idea (I applauded him for being a gentlemen) so I pushed the idea even more. I pushed because I knew he already said no. And if he changed his mind to 'yes' I would have changed my mind to 'no'. 

     Yes, I was playing games but... I had carefully laid it all out. We were in Jersey. It would have taken him 45 minute to get to his house, and he would have had to drop me off the next day. Not even I wouldn't have wanted to drop me off the next day. If I did spend the night, I would have woken up at 6:30am and took my ass to the subway before he woke up. I love to leave before a man wakes up. It makes him feel used :)  & they don't get to see you as the Morning mess you are. I knew there was a slim chance of me spending the night with him... but since I asked, he feels like there is at least a slim chance. He thinks the ball is in his court. I won't be asking to stay the night again. He'll feel like it was a missed opportunity that he'll continuously try harder to get to again.

    This is the way things go: I try to get him to spend money on me, he tries to get me to sleep with him. We're both working towards something. Call me what you want... but I don't need sexual pleasure the way he does. My love for shoes is much stronger than my love for penetration. Shoes make me feel better for longer anyways. 

       My advice? Don't give it up so easily. If this guy really is as great as he professes, I'll find out after the  6-7 month trial... or longer. You should never feel forced to sleep with man because he has imposed a time-frame. My body is not for sale. It has no price. But if you're going to put a price tag on it,  it won't be a clearance sticker. Have more respect for yourself. I don't know about you, ladies. But Ella's "yea" cost more than an order of Applebee's wings and potato skins. I'm just sayin. If/When he does me wrong, at least he can't say he had that part of me.... but I can at least get some shoes out of him :) 

       My time of "self-imposed celibacy" as Elizabeth Gilbert calls hers in Eat, Pray, Love has to do with more than just men. Sometimes, we give our bodies up so easily and quickly, we lose focus of ourselves and our worth. I'm not just playing this one guy. It has nothing to do with him.... because I'm not sleeping with anyone. So if I'm even going to consider making that move with him... or if he'd like to take on this challenge... he has to put up some serious change on the table. I'm only playing with high-rollers. Chump change won't cut it anymore. Because all men are the same. If I'm going to be controlled, lied to and cheated on... at least let me get something out the deal. If you've never been with a broke man... try it out and see how fed up you'll be. Then you'll understand where my head is at. I've followed my heart way too many times. 

Now, it's time for me and my wardrobe to upgrade. 

Sorry, Suckers. 

Dear Diary, I'm Scared of Lonely.

       I'm scared of lonely. I'm scared of being the only shadow I see along the wall. And I'm scared the only heartbeat I'll hear beating is my own. - Beyonce, "Scared of Lonely"

      I haven't written in quite some time. I could be because I just got my new phone, the Samsung Vibrant (T-Mobile's knockoff iPhone, because I'm #TeamIphone, but not #TeamAT&T) and have been trying to figure out how to use it. It could be because work is kicking my ass, not because of the hour, but because I don't know what "enough" money is and I feel really Chapelle, but...WTF is rent? Maybe I can't write because I might've lost one of my best friends this week and everything in me wants to talk about it, but that would be futile and honestly, a bit to personal --even for me. 

     A very cool blogger (writer of "Sex Made Me Do It") asked if this blog was more of a diary than a "blog" and honestly, I don't know. In my opinion, all writing should be personal. And after thinking about it, yes, these blogs are long, but I'm not going to stop until I complete my thought. I encourage my readers to read... even skim. You can stop when you'd like. On EllaThought, there's no writing or reading limitations. If you'd like to dedicate the 5 minutes it takes to read this, much appreciated. If not, your page view had still been recorded in my stats. Thnx ;)  --Just FYI, there is never any real point to my writing... this is just what happens when my heart connects to my mind, my mind to my fingers, my fingers to my laptop and my laptop to this blog. It's simply the connection I have with words. It's simply what happens.

        Today is about me. With so much on my mind, I just need to write (about something else)... please bear with me. I can't think about the reader today or what you all might think or what you want to read and what I should write... I need my heart to pour from these pores and onto the keyboard because I can feel a buildup inside of me.

 So here it goes:

        FACT: I am at the greatest, lowest point I have ever been in my life. I landed a job plenty people would kill for --this is by no means a complaint, I LOVE my job --but my job is all I have. I wake up every morning excited about what to wear. Work is a personal fashion show that I gladly take part in. I take the train to work and read a book during my 45 minute commute. I just finished The Summer Fletcher Greel Loved Me by Suzanne Kingsbury, about a beautiful summer love that ends in despair. I get to work, I turn on my computer and answer emails. I make a coffee and eat my cereal... and answer more emails. That's it. Well.... there's more to it, but that's the low down. After work, I get back on the train, and go home to my sister's house.

     I typically write with a very "fuck niggas" persona but truly its the complete opposite.... I'm lonely. I want love. Real love. *Cue Mary J* I don't aim to take part in pointless conversation or entertain men that show no potential... and I wonder if this is holding me back. Am I being too picky? Am I moving too slow? At this point I am damned near celibate and the physical yearnings --while they are there -- aren't my biggest issue. 

      Can you really hold onto a man without sleeping with him? I'm not naive, I know that all men --ALL MEN-- are looking for sexual satisfaction, but I've adopted the idea that if he wants sex, he can get it somewhere else. As long as I don't know about it of course. I can't expect a man to be faithful to me when I'm not giving him something that is probably near, if not at, the very top of his list. But I also know that I'm not the only tail he's chasing. I may be the best, but not the only. Never the only. 

     Then (FACT #2), I'm not ready for heart break. My heart hasn't healed from what has happened to it before and I'm not sure if I can take another blow. & while I'll take a free meal anytime...I don't want to date. I really just want to meet the person I'm going to be with already. I'm tired of looking. Tired of dating. Tired of searching. I'm not ready for arguments and yelling and worrying and questioning and checking in and keeping track. Not only do I not have the time for it, I don't think I have the strength. I used to yell. And when I say yell, I mean YELL. Believe me, I would swing if I felt I had to. I did swing when I felt I had to. I'm not going to pretend I've been the best person my whole life. I was actually a terrible person. I was so bad that not only did I wear men out, I wore myself out. I could be happily... something right now if I had matured when they expected me to. But really, you can only do that for yourself. 

      You get to a point when you've ruined your own life so much that you can't even deal with looking at yourself. I would literally ask myself what my problem was. I had to try to figure out why I kept ruining things for myself. This is not to say that the men didn't deserve what came to them or that I want to be with them now. This is simply to say that I have learned from my actions. I apologize to the men that had to take the heat so that The One could have me in my most perfect form. 

       Every woman has her history. Whether you know it or not. Whether people around you know it or not. My opinion on it all is this: What matters most is how long ago their transition to woman hood was. I personally believe that after a woman is hurt to the core of her heart... she breaks. She does things she shouldn't, wouldn't, couldn't. And she learns. You don't want to get with a woman in the middle of this transition because she doesn't know who she is or what she wants and has yet to realize her own flaws. 

         I can fill pages with my flaws. I still have flaws. The difference now is that I can pinpoint these flaws and correct my actions before I make mistakes. There was a time I felt like my body was all I had to give --for reasons women can all relate to, because we are never addressed separate from our bodies --but now, along with my flaws, I recognize my strengths. I congratulate myself on my accomplishments. I applaud myself in taking on adulthood with no fear. I rejoice in my attempts to understand woman hood and even more so what it means to be a black woman. A hispanic woman. An educated woman. A family woman. A motivated woman. 

      And still I'm alone. Here is where the confusion comes in. Here I am, listing off my qualities. The reasons I'm a good woman. Why I'm a good catch. So why doesn't anyone see that? Why don't the men I want, want me back? Why can't things be perfect? I catch myself staring at engagement rings. All of them. From righteous rocks to the diamond shavings placed in metal. I wonder what it takes to get there (not the shavings though, they can keep those). I'm not (really) in a rush. I just want to know if I'm going to get there. Will someone love me enough to make his mark and let the world know that he has chosen me? Someone chose those girls. No one chose me. I want someone to want to be with me. I want someone else to think I'm as great as I say I am and more. The hard part is I want him to be great too. While you aren't going to read an "Ella Wants a Baby" post for a couple years, I want a man who would be a candidate when my life starts to take that turn. 

      Well, there it is. I just moved to one of the most populated cities in the world and have gotten lonelier than I can begin to describe... Beyonce did a good job (or whoever wrote "Scared of Lonely"). I understand: I can't seem to breathe...I am lost in this dream. I need you to hold me. Thing is, I missing a "you". A guy once told me that his greatest fear was being alone. I hadn't even considered it. Now I know. I'm scared, too. 

**Sidenote: Went looking for a place in Harlem & saw some good looking brothas driving good looking cars looking back at me. THERE IS STILL HOPE. Stay Tuned.**

Wish me luck, Ellas.