Misery Loves Company

“And her friends say I ain't the one to go for. 

She just get jealous cause you always get approached more. 

Oh well, tell her fall back. Caught up in some old shit? Tell her call back. 

Tell her get a man that ain't cheating on her ass wit a girl that I know. 

Yeah tell her all that.” 

Drake -- A Little Bit

Just finished rewatching Episode 5 of Basketball Wives. I admit, I watch the show religiously and WILL tune in for Season 2.  In this particular episode, Gloria Govan  is singled out as the "shady ass bitch" because she doesn't want to associate with Royce, because is NOT a wife, just a girl would be lucky enough to sleep with a basketball player. Gloria is thrown into a battle with the other wives on various levels stemming from misunderstanding and envy. Funny how a good relationship can bring you joy and unhappiness all in the same stroke of fortune. 

Bad TV is bad TV and as unhealthy as my obsession with it might be, I can’t help but to find small life lessons in the most unexpected of places. Now, I’m not saying I want to be one of these Basketball Wives (completely) but Gloria seems to be the only wife concerned with maintaining her relationship. The other wives talk incessantly about how the Govan’s relationship is headed downhill, but what do they know? Just because they have no faith in their own relationships, should Gloria retire all trust int he man she vowed to love until her death? 

Is that the green of envy?

Now for the lesson I learned:

At the end of May, I met a guy who... is...exactly. Exactly what I hoped for but wasn’t expecting. Thinking I could trust my friend’s opinion, I shared my thoughts, to which she responded by telling me to stop talking to him. Apparently, I was falling too hard too fast. I didn’t have enough walls up.   And (the best part) it was “all game anyways”. 

In sum, I wasn’t a bitter enough bitch. I wasn’t ruining it fast enough. I wasn’t arguing wit him often enough.  I wasn’t opening my legs to him soon enough. 

Envy is greener up close.

"I'm ready to meet whoever it is I'm going to be with" I confided to my best friend since the first grade. I hoped she'd tell me that she was happy for me. Maybe that I deserved it. I naively wished she would have more faith in that I'd find him than I had. 

     “I didn’t expect that from you. I thought you’d want to chill since you just got out of school. You know, do you,” she explained. Since she just got out of an unproductive relationship and is really just “tryina fuck” whatever guy is at the top of her list at the moment, I don’t know how I could’ve expected a different response. Besides, I’m the only friend she has without children or responsibility. The perfect club partner. I always was #1 wingman. Now as I enter the [not telling] month of my partially chosen celibacy, she doesn't understand why I'd wait on this guy. Much less why when he's around, I've chosen not to sleep with him. 

What do you do when you can no longer trust your friends’ opinions? Who do you confide in? No one. Family. Him. The list of confidants narrows and your left to debate the next step by yourself. Perhaps this is a chance for maturing and growth. I don’t know. And the person I can see who seems to understand the situation is Gloria. 

What I learned from Gloria: Don’t go to the reunion. Rather, places where bitter, upset bitches congregate to spread the hate. 

     So here I am. In the house, because I’d rather not have to avoid the conversations. I've found myself having to dodge the questions. I give minimal detail. A relationship is between TWO people, unless you’ve agreed on an different arrangement. But I’m not Penelope Cruz or Scarlett Johansen & this isn’t Vicky Cristina Barcelona. 

    You can keep your friends close, but your friends and your enemies might be one in the same. Keep your eyes open. 

<3 Miss Lady-Thousand

To send or not to send?

Dating Dilemmas.

I'm newly single for the first time in 2 years and...dating is the worst. The absolute worst. When I meet new guys and have that first crucial conversation, I am often (if not always) disappointed. The newest phenomena I've been encountered over and over again is the text message saying, "Can you send me a pic of you?"

Now, I always respond No. Just that one word and press "send". One guy responded with "Well, I guess you don't want to go out with me either". Well, not anymore, no. That night he invited me to a place called "The CrackPot". As if I want to go anywhere named Crackpot. He hasn't called since I gave him another no. Thank, God.

I met another guy down at the Baltimore Harbor. He was playing the sax... I think. Some instrument. We talked for a while and he seemed genuinely interesting. We exchanged numbers and then, as I walked off, he called back to me. "Can I take a pic of you in your outfit?" he asked. Once again, I responded with my ever-handy No. I don't need to tell you how that ended.

#MyOnlyQuestionIs What is this? Am I the only one being asked for pictures of myself? Do you ladies send them off? Don't we all have Facebook? I've got pics on there. He can look at my profile pic if he needs to. OR.. he can see me in person. How about asking me on a date instead of for a picture. Bizarre.

Asking me to send you a pic #UNDATEABLE. 

The Problem Here is You.

 What happens when you deserve more than a man can give you.



"I tried to be nice. but i have to say you need get over your I deserve this shit. Cuz you wont get everything you "deserve". You don't deserve as much as you think you do and neither do i. That's what I have learned and I hope you learn it to."

-Excerpt from an email from my Ex

 I've been breaking/broken up with my "Ex" since April 25th. It was the day I found text messages between him and various girls ( one of whom I had previously had my eye on because shelooked easy) on the Blackberry I had given him. I took the phone, sent all of them text messages and left his house a new woman. Since then, I (idiotically) tried to be his friend. I don't really do "friends" with men I've been involved with, but he was a great friend while we were together... and recent updates on his health made me feel like he needed someone, and that someone should be me. Because I love him. Meanwhile, when I asked for his company, or his time, the same consideration wasn't returned.  So yesterday, I ended the friendship and with it all ties.

I got an email from him today. He explained that his schedule is hectic and he has no time (remember, this is the same guy on the Starbucks date with the ugly chick). He's one of those guys who makes time only for what he wants. If you aren't high on the "Wants" list, you might as well not be on the list at all. So, I responded to the email saying that I deserve more than he was giving and could give me. The quote above is  how he opened his response. Needless to say, I called him and it didn't go civilly. I'd describe the conversation for you but I'm trying to limit the curse words in this blog. The conversation began with a "Don't you ever fucking disrespect me" ( I really do add the "g" when I'm upset) and ended with a "FUCK YOU," followed by the dial tone.

Now for the meat of this blog: If a man says "you don't deserve as much as you think," he doesn't realize your full potential. Negativity can be the most destructive force to a person's success if you don't separate yourself. But, never forget it. I will never forget how little value he placed on me as a person. And I promise you he will one day realize that he should have held onto me.  He does not deserve me. The man a woman needs in her life is one that will support her on any endeavor she tackles. He will stand beside her in the spotlight and pick her up if she can no longer see the light.

Additionally, he truly believes that he will not get everything he deserves. How can I be with a man who is willing to settle for so little?  Here's the thing: He had 2 job offers last summer. A secure teaching job at a private school, or a teaching job with some company no one has heard of.  He chose the latter, deciding with his heart instead of his wallet. He bought a new bed, Macbook and car; all of which have to be paid monthly on top of his student loans for his 5 years of undergrad (takes him a long time to learn, trust me). Now, the bills are piling up so he has to DJ more gigs on top of  the job he now hates it (he only admits that every other day, of course).

 It seems that second rate is good enough for him (that girl was third rate) and he insists it should be good enough for me. Once you make exceptions for any given situation, you affect the outcome of your life as a whole. Imagine me, marrying this broke school teacher because he doesn't think he deserves better. This $22,550 in student loans says I BETTER never be broke again.  In sum, if you settle for less, you will get less.  That's all. I settled for him in the beginning and we see where that left me.This isn't deeply philosophical, merely common sense and purely truth.

Plus, I had to get that off my chest. Whew.





A Poem by Ciara

My Love

Anything you ask, I'll be right there to do it.
But if I react, you tell me to relax.
Too late to take it back. Cuz boy you put me through it. 
This circular motion is all we do.
I'm so sick of going back and forth with you.

You should have been happy to have me. 
Said you wanted to have some kids, build a family. 
Now I wish it wasnt true.
It's killing me to do, what I go to do.

The problem here is you. 

[Recovering Under Cover Over] Love[r].

"I'm a recovering under cover over lover. And now my common law lover says he wants another." -E. Badu.

Love... umm.. love...blows, sucks, sucks-and-blows simultaneously, happens, fades, blinds, binds, completes, destroys. Yea, man. Love. 

Love, I believe, is what transitions you from one stage of life into another. The Virginity stage is incomparable to any other. When I speak of virginity, I am speaking of both sexual virginity and emotional virginity. When neither your heart nor your insides have been torn apart by brutal and, sometimes even, kind men, who have their own methods of destruction. It is in essence the period of  innocence and naivety. For men, it is always a game --something to figure out, accomplish, win over. For women, love is and has always been accompanied by pain.We cannot escape it. Okay, I'll leave the "we's" behind speak for myself now.

I enter every relationship expecting the worst because Murphy' damned law seems to be the ultimate decree as to how life is to proceed: whatever can go wrong, will go wrong. I was trying to figure out how to get started on this blog and read a brilliant friend's blog, Eff Everything by Lauren (don't know if I should put her last name).  Her first blog commented on Love (yes, I will capitalize this bastard throughout) and the celeb relationships vs. real life relationships... you know, the usual stuff we all concern ourselves with, comparing ourselves to people we DO NOT KNOW. Anyways, she goes on to end the piece discussing how Love "isn’t smooth sailing, don’t get me wrong, but love is self first. When you find that, everything else will fall into place." Genius.

And depressing.

Where does that leave those of us not walking through parks swinging intertwined fingers in the spring sun on our way to romantic picnics? What do I need to find Love? I have a picnic basket. I've had this damned picnic basket for two years. No picnic. Who am I? Yogi Bear? Depressing. Ain't it depressing? 

Not only do you have to find that "special someone" but you must now find yourself as well. Yourself seems to be the hardest person to find. You can look in the mirror everyday and not know who you are. And when you think you know, then you fall in love, and love changes you. You wake up out of love a completely different person --I can assure you.

I was in a relationship with a great man (mostly, if he was that great, we'd still be together, right?) for my last 2 years of college. I practically lived with the man. I grew. Man, I grew. I became a woman with him. I cooked breakfast, lunch and dinner. Washed his clothes (when he would let me). Cleaned his house. Made his bed. My world revolved around him. I envisioned myself marrying this man. Having his children. I hate children. I am telling you that I grew. Until he wanted to be young again. He is five years my elder, but sadly just getting into his "cool". He hadn't gotten girls in high school, or most of college, but now the big time DJ is attracting attention unlike anything he had had in the past. And here I was, in love. Ready... ready to "go to the sto'" for him (please, get Erykah Badu's new album. Please.). Yet, asking for his time was asking for too much.

He no longer wanted me. It shames me to say this but I begged for the first time in my life (AND THE LAST) that he wouldn't leave me. I'd have done anything.I cried and I cry still. I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him. Sincerely.

A week later, he was seductively sipping a latte with his date outside the Johns Hopkins Starbucks (Oh, yes this M.F. was). Besides loudly announcing that "she ain't cuter than me," my heart-felt response was, Word?


Lauren, sweetie, I have to disagree. It's not Eff Love, rather, Eff Him. Only after I found Love was I able to find myself. So you see, the reverse is also absolutely possible. Because I did Love him. Part of me still would, if I hadn't found myself already. Lauryn Hill describes a line in her song "Lose Myself" as a double entendre: "I had to lose myself, in order to Love you better,"  meaning that one has to lose themselves in Love in order to Love better. At the same time you also have to lose out, lose something, to understand how to Love better. Sometimes that thing you lose is yourself. Only after you have lost yourself to the ungracious recipient will you miss yourself. Nobody looks for something they don't think is missing. You need to lose yourself un order to find yourself and then Love yourself better.

We depend so much on the love of others, perfecting ourselves for others hoping to find love. Maybe the purpose of love is to show you who you really are.And who says love only comes once? It'll be back. Oh, it will be back. While my Ex can parade around whichever 10 (I know it's 80/20, but she wasn't cute) he wants, my next Love will be at least a 95.  I guarantee it. My Ex might have let me down, but I don't disappoint myself.


 So... overall, thanks for inspiration, Lauren. You said it best, Eff Everything. (Check out her blog, it's phenomenal, & much more put together than mine!)


For the grande finale:With some slight edits, I give you a poem by Shawn Carter,

 (Spaced out so it looks like poetry. Nice, huh?)

"Is That Yo B*tch"

 I don't love'em,
I  eff'em. 
I don't chase'em.
I duck'em.
I replace'em with another one.