Let Go...

My father has always been there for me. Always available in my time of need. Always has the right thing to say. It's why I'm so protective of him, why only one boyfriend I've had has met him and why only two have even spoken to him. He's a great guy to have in your life and in your corner.

Recently, a lot of men that wanted my attention are now becoming hard to get a hold of. I'm feeling myself text too much, call too much, even think too much about these guys that, SUDDENLY, aren't doing the same for me. My texts are getting longer, and theirs are getting shorter.

When this happens, the first thing I do is call a spade a spade. I let them know I've noticed, ask them if it's intentional, and, if there's no reasonable explanation, wait for the situation to be rectified.

Now if there's no reason for the sudden sporadic nature of our communication, and the new condition isn't corrected, then I let them go on their merry way.

Gone are the days where I would blow up their phone until they called back. Or I'd text five times to their one time. Or I'd wonder what they were doing while I was trying to focus. If they're not thinking about me or contacting me and I've made them aware and they still don't care, then I MOVE ON.

You should NEVER have to remind someone to think about you, to consider you, to be there for you, to REMEMBER you! YOU ARE MEMORABLE! YOU ARE IMPORTANT! And do you REALLY want to keep dealing with someone who is making you feel otherwise? NO, YOU DON'T! So...DON'T.

Someday (soon, I hope), I'll skip the step where I give them a chance to correct it and just bounce as soon as they start acting funny. Honestly, I am and always have been TOO NICE for my own good when it comes to guys, especially those in a large city with plenty of options.

Sure, there's a reason for their new behavior. And do you really want to know if the reason is just that they've LOST INTEREST? No, you DON'T! So chalk it up to being THEIR LOSS, and keep your eye out for someone that's INTERESTED. INTERESTED and AVAILABLE. Because, like one of the tracks on my upcoming debut album, it's "ALL OR NOTHING AT ALL".

"And don't you say you're sorry 'cause you're not..."

I blogged recently about someone I'd had a strong interest in and how we'd finally consummated our attraction. Well, to be more accurate, I consummated my attraction while HE used me to lick the wounds of his recent breakup. It was cold, emotionless, a total letdown, an unbelievable disappointment, and since we've acted as if nothing has happened.

And isn't it better that way? Isn't it better to salvage whatever we can of the relationship rather than allow it to get blown to smithereens by his inconsiderate actions? I suppose so. But every day the hurt he caused goes unacknowledged, every day I think about how what he did devalues a friendship that I thought we had, makes me more and more angry.

I need to let it go. I need to let the disappointment and the hurt and everything go. I need to let HIM go. And just breathe and move on...

Ulterior Motives

I'm not so sure I'm not in this thing by myself. "This thing" being THE WORLD. True, I do have my tight-knit family to lean on, and that definitely means I'm not "by myself", but everyone is looking to expand their circle of people they can trust, and I don't know how effective I've been at that particular task.

Don't get me wrong. I don't mean to imply that I think the whole world is out to get me. I don't. I'm doing just fine and I feel like I'll continue to flourish. What I mean is, they don't REALLY have my back. Oh sure, they have it to the extent that having it means THEY are benefited. It's a symbiotic relationship, rather than altruistic. I supposed, after taking "The Sexual Evolution of Human Behavior" at Yale, I'm being naive to expect altruism in the real world, but I do.

I like to think that I'm fairly altruistic, as the only thing I expect in return for my good deeds is equal treatment. But alas, that seems impossible. And finding a genuine person who's not just hanging onto you to get where THEY need to go is even harder. Are we really friends? Or are we nothing more than acquaintances and/or business partners who've decided to share personal information about ourselves for the sake of "appearances"?

Well, no need to do that with me. If you're not really someone I can count on, not someone I can call in a pinch, not someone I can confide in and who will confide in me (ACTUALLY confide too, not just to get information from me), then lets drop the pretense. I'll still be cordial. I'll still be professional. I'll still be my usual charming self. I just won't let you inside where you can muck up my thoughts and feelings. That's a no-no.

So who are you? A wolf in sheep's clothing, or a real sheep? I'd prefer a real wolf to a fake sheep...

Reset

The above is the title to perhaps my favorite Outkast song. Outkast and I have a very special relationship, as for four months starting in 2006, they were all I could listen to. Listening to them now brings me back to that time instantly. But honestly, even without listening to "Reset", I know that's exactly what I need.

Honestly, all this guy stuff is just getting to be a pain. All these mixed messages are really bringing me down. My father says there are no mixed messages. A man either says yes or no and if you can't tell, he's saying no. Well, if that's the case, a lot of men are saying no to me lately and it's bugging me because I'm the kind of girl men should say yes to. I'm not being egotistical either. When I go to the dating sites and the message boards and read the men's magazines, they all describe a woman that's like me, and I wonder, "Well, why aren't I finding any of these men who want me? They seem to be everywhere but where I am, apparently."

So I've decided to take a reset. A return to my home in Austin, to my family, to my friends from elementary school, to the place that's me, that gets me, that will always want me, no matter how much of a "city girl" I become. It's the holidays, and I've already told y'all it's a hard time for me, regardless of having family and friends to talk to on the phone. No, by holiday time, I need a major dose of them, up close and personal. That's what gets me through the rest of the year in this crazy NYC. Because I may be a reformed Southern gal, but I'll always be country in my heart.

"Come Back to Your First Love..."

These are the words to the refrain of the Kirk Franklin song, "First Love", which I had on repeat the summer following my breakup with my first love. The song was talking about God, because he's the first one to love you, but it felt like it was speaking directly to me and my situation and I, of course, ended up coming back to my first love when the semester started in September of that year. 

Though the relationship ended for good the day after Thanksgiving of the same year, I still think about him. Especially during the holidays. I spent two great Thanksgivings with he and his family (he's the only boyfriend I ever spent the holidays with), our birthdays are one day apart (I'm 12/15 and he's 12/16), and starting immediately after our breakup, he never fails to wish me a happy birthday, and a merry Christmas. We don't speak on AIM anymore (we met on BlackPlanet.com and spoke on AIM for a while before meeting, so it seems dangerous to start up again on AIM), we don't call, we rarely email (beyond the occasional check-ins about life, jobs, etc.), but we NEVER forget birthdays or Christmas. It's our thing.

And this year, more than ever, I've been thinking of him. Why? Because although he's my first love, he also happens to be my ONLY love to date. Man, it took me months to want until I could date again (8 months, to be precise), and a little more before I didn't get emotional remembering our times together. And I know he felt the same way. Maybe he didn't take as long to seek the refuge in another woman, but his check-ins, I realized, always coincided with right after he'd broken up with someone, and I was the same way. Always circling back to that one time I found someone who truly loved me and wondering if it didn't make more sense to go back than to keep hitting a brick wall with the guys I'm meeting now.

When I was crying my eyes out over our breakup (and getting into running, and cutting off all my hair, and partying and drinking more than ever before), everyone said, "Don't worry. He's just your first love. You'll have many more. Everyone thinks their first love is it, and it rarely ever is." I'm 26. He and I started talking when I had just turned 20. We discussed marriage. We discussed kids. We wanted it to work forever. And four years after our breakup, no one has even come close to comparing. What if that WAS it?

"If it was easy, everyone would do it."

While searching for the above picture, I found that even pets get the "winter blues": those emotional doldrums that sap the joy out of the holiday season should you not be lucky enough to be coupled up in a fairy tale relationship, or home with your family when all the relationship BS doesn't matter. Luckily for me, I ALWAYS see my family on Christmas. Rarely do I get to visit them on Thanksgiving as well, since it's so close time-wise and the flight to Austin is RIDICULOUS ($900, at the cheapest). This time of year is still hard for me, however, for several reasons.

First, I grew up in the sun belt. Austin, TX. Temperatures range from 30 to 115, and when it's 30, there may be ice, but there's not snow and there's hardly any wind. I've had New Years' celebrations driving around in pickup trucks with the windows down, in a t-shirt, and I was SWEATING. So yeah, you don't have to go abroad to go somewhere warm for the holidays. That being said, I currently live in the dark, depressing, sun-deprived world that is New York City. Comic book fans like to brag about knowing "Gotham" in the "Batman" enterprise is NYC, but it's obvious, as there's never any light in either. With my background, therefore, being in NYC when it's at it's darkest, coldest, wettest and most depressing brings on a rough case of S.A.D.

Second, I didn't get to go home for Thanksgiving. Even though I know it's not practical to go in late November and again in mid December to the same place for the amount of money it costs and the effort it takes, I still am incredibly homesick by the time Thanksgiving comes around. Almost a year's worth of crap has built up and I need to get it off my chest to the people who care for me, to recharge. And all the people up here get to go home and see their families while I'm stuck trying to convince friends/boyfriends/acquaintances to let me cook Thanksgiving for them, or to let me tag along to THEIR Thanksgiving tradition. It's rough.

And third and most-importantly, every time I see my family, I'm breaking up with someone. I noticed this trend in college, when I broke up with my first love. It was right after Thanksgiving and I was so relieved that I had home to look forward to in a few weeks. I see my parents twice a year--once in the Spring-Summer months (at a location outside of Texas), and once at home in Texas, at Christmas. And right before I'm meeting them either time, I'm always cutting either a bunch of people or one very important person out of my life.

This year, right before I saw them in July, I ended a horribly abusive relationship of 18 months shortly before. Now, a little over a week before I get to see them, I've cut out all the casual partners in my life (one of which I grew to deeply care for), and decided to forgo any partners that aren't interested in all of me; the real me. And even the casual partners I didn't particularly care for take a toll when they're gone, as they were at least someone THERE. Sure, for the wrong reasons, but they were there. They wanted you, if only for your body or your money. And now you're alone, in the most depressing months of the year, all by yourself in your apartment.

Add to that the stress from working on my album (both good and bad), and I'm in desperate need of a recharge.

But I asked my family about this peculiar trend. Why did I always break up with someone right before seeing them? Their answer was simple and groundbreaking:

"K, you know we can see through the BS. You know you don't want to be coming home to us in a BS situation, trying to convince us it's real when we know it's not."

And it's true. I get rid of ANYTHING that won't stand up to a rigorous family discussion (and we talk rigorously often) before seeing them, because I hate lying. I hate BS-ing. Last Christmas I was BS-ing them about the abusive relationship, and it killed me to be able to recharge and heal in every way but one, because I was keeping the truth from them. I can lie to myself, to my coworkers, to my friends, to strangers, but I can't lie to my family, at least not for long.

So yes, I'm quite lonely, and I'm full of inner emotional turmoil. More than ever, I need their calming presence. I need to be somewhere where people will listen to what I have to say and I won't have to blog to let it out. I need to be somewhere with friends that say come as you are, be it in Converses or cowboy boots, and I don't have to put on panty hose or stilettos. It's my center; my sanctuary.

Happy Holidays!

Strange Days...

Yeah, I'm here again. This blog is proving to be cathartic for me, but hopefully it's entertaining to some and perhaps even enlightening to a few.

So, I had a great session last night! My producer/keys player came and we worked for 5.5 hours making my album that much closer to being radio-friendly, marketable, grown-and-sexy (although I hate such a snobby term), and, ultimately, profitable. It was really impressive to watch each song transform before my ears.

After the session, we had planned to go over my press/album pictures, but keyboard, synthesizer, portable pedal AND notebook computer might've been a bit much, so we opted to do it another day. There's no rush anyway, as my pictures wouldn't've been ready by the new year regardless, and two days won't hurt it. I'm trying to be a lot more zen about this project then I was previously, trying not to sweat the small stuff and enjoy the process, even when it moves more slowly than I would hope. Honestly, yes, if it were just me, I would've been done months ago. But it isn't just me, and every additional person has done nothing but enrich and enhance the project. Basically, they're more than worth the delays and the cost (which spread over months, isn't TOO bad). Anyway, my producer also had a bunch of parties to hit up (after all, he is very chic and it was THURSDAY, LOL).

So afterwards, I got home, but I wasn't really ready to be home, you know? I was keyed up from the session going so well and, even though I had to wake up early for work the next day, I was in the mood to stay up and out all night.

BUT, it was RIDICULOUSLY frigid outside. Once I got home, I lost my buzz to go out. I was all set to give up and change into my pajamas when I got the urge to call a friend of mine, who's becoming a real facet in my life and a fairly dependable shoulder in time of need. I called, we talked, and he too was feeling a bit "haunted". So, rather than stay home and sulk over having no plans, or freeze our butts off trying to get to some party some place that would probably be finishing up as soon as we got there, we opted to be haunted together. I brought my work clothes, picked up some munchies, hopped in a cab, and before you know it, I was on his doorstep.

And then the weirdest thing happened...We hooked up.

I say it was weird because, well, it was. I don't know what other way to describe it. I showed up to watch premium cable, laugh, eat and talk, but slowly it transformed into something else. First, we were watching tv in the living room, drinking wine, and then we were watching a DVD in his room. Then, the lights were on and we were laughing, and next the lights were off and he was asking for a massage. Finally, he turned from the DVD to some sensual music, and ultimately the massage turned to something more.

Honestly, I hadn't expected it at all. Sure, I was crushing on this person, but I figured if we ever ended up in that situation, it would be because he'd approached me, clearly stating he wanted to turn our platonic relationship to a more intimate one, and then things would grow from there. It would NOT have been a matter of "one thing leading to another" at 2:30am. Who really believes that "one thing leads to another" bit anyway? It implies you were helpless to stop a set of events that, by most definitely required your participate. If "one thing led to another", it's always because you led it there.

Afterwards, the emotions were just as weird as the situation. To be cautious, I had asked before anything went down what exactly was happening. Was this just a "casual" thing, or was this the culmination of mutual attraction (I hope? Please? Pretty please?)? Welp, it was just a hookup. And part of me almost backed out right then. I don't want to DO casual. He KNEW that! What was I DOING there?

He didn't know. He didn't have any answers. As he said fairly frequently throughout the encounter, he hadn't expected this to happen. He hadn't known he wanted to do this. He hadn't invited me over with these intentions. Blah blah blah. Based on where his head is at lately, I'm inclined to believe him, but it certainly isn't very flattering. You don't want to finally be invited over to your crush's place to get physical, only to find out they just did it on a spur-of-the-moment level, a "casual" level. And even worse, you don't want to hear them repeat, INCESSANTLY: "Wow....wow...um....WOW....I just....Hmmm....I had no idea that would happen. I can't believe that just happened...Wow...wow...I'm shocked. I'm just...wow. I wasn't expecting this, etc." Seriously, he said almost exactly that for about twenty minutes after our rendezvous and it's definitely a blow to a woman's pride.

I mean, hey, you caught me off guard! I didn't want to do casual, but I had a crush on you (which you knew), so I tried to adapt to the situation. I tried to keep it light. Not do what I would really have done. No kissing. No cuddling. No laughing. No CONNECTION. And it was then I realized that, worse than a hookup, I was just some kinda of coping mechanism for the aforementioned troubled time he's going through. I was a band-aid, or a teddy bear, or a hit of heroin.

And that just solidified everything for me. Casual is out, no exceptions, no fine print, no hidden clauses. It was then that I called the musician and told him that, although he had been looking forward to "hanging" with me upon his return to America, that I just couldn't do it anymore. And I literally JUST texted my main "arrangement" that I couldn't continue as well. Neither has responded. And I suppose it's just as well. Because if it was never real, is there a point to a goodbye?

What a Difference a Day Makes!

How funny that I should post for the first time in months and then feel the need to post again, the very next day. I suppose it's cathartic.

Big developments with Trini. As it happens, it's hard to have friends of the opposite sex. "When Harry Met Sally" had it right.

As a result of that fact, I don't have many (straight) male friends). This is normally fine as, for the first time, I have a nice little crew of female friends. Unfortunately, some issues are best asked to a male audience than a female one.

Case in point: I wasn't sure if one of the remaining casual dude I entertained from time to time was catching feelings or not. I thought he might be and I was concerned. If he wasn't, then I was going to eventually be "too busy" and our "relationship" would come to an end. If he was, then I would entertain the idea of getting to know him better. And, since this is exactly the same problem I had with Trini, and because of the aforementioned lack of male friends, I thought he would be a good person to ask.

True, he was helpful in that regard, but the conversation drudged up all the old drama between us, culminating with him shouting at me and making it abundantly clear that he didn't feel anything for me, he never would, and he was incapable of ever doing so. I was nothing but a source of frustration to him. Blah blah blah. He yelled, I cried, and it's clear we'll never speak again.

So yeah, that was pretty tough.

To feel worthwhile again, I needed to talk to someone who liked my company, whether physical or otherwise. I tried a musician friend of mine; no answer. I tried the remaining casual "friend"; no answer. Then I tried my producer. It may be a cliche, but I have a huge schoolgirl crush on him and he has helped me with personal issues in the past.

And wouldn't you know it, he was free. He calmed me down, cheered me up, and I felt like a person once more. I know I always was, but hey, it's nice to get confirmation. That conversation, on top of the many other chats we've had, further solidified our friendship (and made my schoolgirl crush even more hopeless, lol). A good laugh will cure a good cry any day. ;)

Living Life

So! I've been busy!

1.) I've been baking up a storm. Now that it's winter and my non-air-conditioned apartment won't turn into a death trap if I bake, I've been taking full advantage. So far, I've baked red velvet cake, chocolate cake, chocolate chip cookies, banana bread, carrot cake, sweet potato pie, and lemon cornmeal shortbread.

2.) I've been working on my album. I've chosen which of the fifteen recorded songs will be on the album, chosen the album title, done horn overdubs (and this Thursday, there will be key overdubs), and taken pictures for press and the album cover. Honestly, I'm super-psyched. Yes, I wanted to be done with all the recording/overdubbing by the end of 2010 so that it would just be mixing/mastering/logistics for 2011, but things didn't work out that way. C'est la vies. Getting musicians together (or anyone for that matter) to work in December is like herding cats.

3.) I've given up casual dating. It's not for me. I mean, I may partake occasionally when times get rough, but I'm not seeking any NEW partners and I'm steadily weening off any old partners. "What prompted this revelation?" you ask. Well, several things:

First, I caught feelings again for Trini. I was so SURE he was catching feelings too this time. No dice. I  tried to supress them, but I couldn't, and then I realized, I didn't want to. I deserved to be feeling  something for someone who was also feeling me, and if that wasn't him, then I should move on.  Easier said than done, I know. We still keep minimal contact and flirt a bit, but each time it's clear he  just wants to restart the physical and continue ignoring the emotional. I'm done with that, so we're done  on that level. Who knows what the future holds, but, barring a big rom-com re-enactment of him  running to the airport to catch me before I move to Bangladesh or stopping my wedding to someone  else, we won't be rekindling our romance any time soon.

Second, no dudes wanted to date me. Sure, they wanted the physical, but for some reason, they didn't want anything beyond that. I feel like I'm much more than that, though, and I feel like it's obvious to everyone. I also think my many gifts shouldn't be wasted on anyone who can't see that. Sure, it sucks  that no one wants more, but I am willing to wait for someone (ANYONE) to wake up and realize I'm worth  more. This physical stuff is just hollow otherwise.

So yeah, that was just an internal realization. I figured I probably wasn't a casual type girl, but I figured some experimentation wouldn't be a bad thing and it wasn't. I learned a lot about myself and met some cool people, some of whom are still in my life, in different capacities.

4.) I got a new job! Yay! I don't know if I mentioned how much I hated working for the hedge-fund-that-will-not-be-named. It was just a dead-end job. Even after the promotion (to work for a psycho, power-tripping, RACIST, jerk), it just wasn't worth it. I now work in the entertainment industry (for a national television network), and meet more celebrities than when I worked for the national talent agency (my first real job). And, get this, it PAYS MORE! Can you believe an entertainment job that pays what people are worth! I practically had to pay my employer to work at the talent agency. So yes, this is awesome news!

5.) And lastly, I joined Weight Watchers Online. I had hit a plateau with the calorie counting. I guess my body was used to it. Anyway, I'm now down to 160 and losing on WW and feeling great. I think it shows in my pictures. ;) Wish me luck in my continuing weight loss!

Happy Camper!

Get some, y'all. Seriously.

I was trapped in a little pity party rut for a while there. I was bogged down with anxiety about my upcoming album, letting every little guy-problem get me down. Going out with my girls only seemed to be a temporary fix before I was right back in the doldrums. Even trying on old clothes that were WAY too big since I'd lost all this weight wasn't helping!

So, like every true American, I went in search of a drug that could make me happy. Now, I'm not really into drugs. At least not those of Western medicine. But I MOST DEFINITELY am an advocate for holistic/herbal medicine. I'd done B vitamins for well-being before, but I wanted something with a little more kick. St. John's Wort is what I used to use for a pick-me-up, but it started to feel like a placebo. While in the store, therefore, I called my mother to see if she had any suggestions and she suggested Happy Camper.

Y'all? This stuff works! I don't take it every day, just days I know will be long and stressful (which is every day), or days I know I'll need to be thinking positively (because some big adversity or insurmountable task is about to get thrown at me).

My mom also said she read something saying diet changes and weight loss tend to affect your hormones, which can cause mood swings. This actually makes sense. No wonder I've felt like a manic-depressive lately. So, I'm taking Happy Camper, my multi-vitamin, and trying to cut back on carbs even further, which have ALWAYS caused me to be a bit tense. And they wreak havoc on my body in other ways...

But enough of that! Good news is, with the addition of my kettle-bell workout, I'm off my plateau and I'm not at THIRTY-SEVEN pounds lost!

These things work great because, unlike traditional weights, they force you to use your stabilizer/core muscles even more and, therefore, intensify already intense moves. I got the workout from one of the many fitness magazines that I have but never read (because I was too scared and embarrassed to try weights on my own amongst all the brawny men in the gym), and, like Happy Camper, this ish is WORKING!

I've lost weight, and I can DEFINITELY see definition and a loss of inches all over. It's awesome. So these are my Thursday recommendations. Check them out and tell me if you love them just as much as I do! :)

Bear Food

The saying goes: Some days you eat the bear; some days the bear eats you.

Well, unfortunately, it's felt like the bear has been eating me the past couple of days. Maybe I'm in a funk. Let me just preface this by saying that I'm PMS-ing at the moment, and PMS is the originator of making a mountain out of a molehill, so forgive what may seem trivial to you.


1.) I don't have a full roster of men that I'm dating, or that are pursuing me.

I went out on a date with a guy this past Saturday that I didn't like very much. I knew there wasn't a spark before the date even began because I'd only given him my number on accident (he asked me on my way out of the club and I was apparently too flustered not to give it to him), and the few conversations we had (via text mostly) confirmed that I wasn't very interested in him. But, times are tight and I wasn't about to turn down a free meal. Hey, he might grow on me, you know? And, I'm trying to accept all social invitations (especially dates) so I can remember what it's like to go out and LEARN what it's like to date.

Unfortunately, during the date he became ridiculously touchy-feely, complimenting strange things like my eyebrows, and making kissy faces at me in the restaurant. He left $70 for a meal that was $65.14, but then insisted I let him put me in a cab home. He also held my hand in front of many guys on the street and literally FORCED me to kiss him (read: turned my face into his). When I told him this a few days later and attempted to end things, he went off with the following text:

"Listen im not perfect guy your right i didnt show romance spark im really sorry The thing is i really like you i was trying do so many things @ the same time in the restaurant i never show u my romantic side cause one the radio was loud next to us and it was crowded over there i trying 2 find a better seat and made sure u like the food i wanted it 2 be perfect 2 i was trying comprehend your life story and everytime i try to complement how gorgeiouse u look u cut throat me u started talking and i was apreciating your story lol i was saying when im going tell her shes got sexy lipps sexy eyes sexy complextion beautiful hair she makes my heart melt i didnt want 2 be rude it was 2 hours only my point how your going get 2 know that fast im sorry location with radio was loud im so sorry. Can i make up 2 you im sorry idk what i did wrong"

This was one of MANY texts AFTER he said I was a "pretender analizer" for not wanting to continue after the first date, and (COMPLETELY UNSOLICITED) made sure i knew he would never hit a woman and was not jealous so I could "go to China" if I so chose and he wouldn't trip.

Um, so yeah, I'm pretty sure ending things helped me avoid getting beaten and/or chopped up in little pieces while he told people I'd gone to China.

Losing that guy (and not acquiring any new guys while I was out and about with my girlfriends), mean my roster now consisted of "Mr. B", who I'm legitimately dating and "Trini", who is just supposed to be a friend that I hook up with from time to time but really is a friend that I get along very well with.

The problem is, Trini and I have had a fling before and I accidently started catching feelings, so when my roster gets so sparse, I start getting in the danger zone of developing feelings again and that's no good.


2.) Mr. B. postpones a date so late that I end up canceling.

So, the day after Mr. B. and I hooked up the week before, we made plans for last night (Thursday). Thursday at 8pm. And he spent the whole week saying, "I can't wait 'til Thursday", "I'm gonna take you out Thursday", "Counting the days 'til Thursday", etc. Then Thursday morning comes and now it'll be 8-ISH.

Those who know me know I ABHOR tardiness. Especially from dudes. But I'll forgive you if you give me notice. He did that, and he's a cool dude with a car and the inclination to take me out, so I was OK with it.

But then 8:30 rolls around and he hasn't called. And I decide I'll be like Vivan Green and stop sitting by the phone and call to see what the deal is. Mind you, I haven't heard from him all day. When I call, he says he'll be another hour. This ninja!

I cut short my workout so I wouldn't keep him waiting and he'll be another hour?! Would I have known if I hadn't called? Do I really wanna take this from this dude? Why do dudes keep doing this to me?

All these questions flew through my head while I nicely said it was cool and I'd see him then. But 9:30-ish rolls around and I'm not having it. I'm home, I'm relaxed, and I'm SUPER PISSED at this dude for keeping me waiting. His reason was only semi-legit too! So I, feeling like I deserved better, canceled that date. He called immediately after I sent the text, very apologetic and amazingly, he was JUST NOW free to come over and hang, but I stuck to my guns and kept the date canceled. It would be after 10pm when he got to my house (if he left right then, and didn't go home to get changed) and I wasn't in the mood to have this dude turn me into a booty call. If anyone gets to turn anyone into a booty call, it's ME. So yeah, I canceled that ish and watched "The Nanny Diaries".

3.) No plans on a Friday night.

One of my gfs has friends in town. I know these friends, but they need to bond before I'm added to the mix (at least I think so), so I won't bother them attempting to tag along.

Trini took all day to tell me whether or not he was going to come over to play Scrabble and chill and then, at 5pm (I gave him until 6pm), he says he's just going to stay inside. Sure, this is no biggie. But add that to the lack of dudes in my roster, my date's postponement the night before and the PMS, and it felt like a huge deal.

He asked if we could hang Sunday, but I'm kinda done with dudes (friends or not) for a little while. Don't feel like thinking about them, stressing about them, trying to please them, cooking for them, dressing up for them, NONE of that! So I'll be practicing the songs for my upcoming album instead.

And that's the moral of the story. When you're out there in the dating world, and you start to feel insecure and every little brush-off feels like a monumental rejection you'll never recover from (he asked for her number instead of MINE), then you just take a step back and do you.

And never, EVER, change your plans for a dude. ;)

Burning the Candle at Both Ends

That's exactly what I've been doing lately. There's an expression: "You can sleep when you're dead", and I suppose it's true and it's been kind of my motto lately. But could I possibly be stretching myself too thin? Running myself into the ground?

I am what is referred to as an over-achiever. Unless I'm operating at at least 175%, I'm not satisfied and I tend to get restless. "Over-achiever" can also be referred to as "over-committed".

It's actually a blessing to be over-committed. Sure, sometimes I might complain about not having time to catch up on any of my shows online, or feeling like I'm some pack animal, constantly carrying my gym clothes and whatever additional clothes are necessary for my evening plans following the gym, but it's worth it.

Why is it worth it? Because despite the fact that I complain when there's too much to be done, this is the life I want. This is exactly what I asked for in those times when I was spending my entire weekend inside watching "Bridezilla" marathons, giving myself every excuse not to do my laundry.

I fantasized about what it would be like to have friends calling me with constant, glamorous plans to hang out, dates every night of the weekend, an impressive job title with matching work responsibilities, and the clothes, hair and body that go with such a sophisticated, busy, urban woman.

I wanted all that and I still do. The price? The price is sleep. The price is being woken up at 3am with a text to talk because it's 4pm in Tokyo and that's when my friend who was there was free. The price is not getting that moment of relaxation to watch that Lifetime movie Sunday night because an impromptu rooftop party just came up in the city and I have to change into stilettos (and I didn't get back to my apartment until 2am, by the way). The price is having to triage exactly who you get to hang out with and when, and even having to say NO to people because although I can operate at 175%, I can't split myself into two separate people occupying different spaces...yet.

Of course, however, there are perks. The perks are feeling loved. I got out of a relationship recently where I didn't feel loved. If I ever did, it was because I had jumped through some ridiculous hoops the person set up for me, only to find out there were more hoops at the end. But now? Now people are trying to get some of my time.

Now my friends keep me busy almost every weeknight (if not doing karaoke, or a poetry reading or visiting the premier gay men's gym in NYC, then over the phone, relaying some crazy story...and I finally have some of my own to share), men take me out every night of the weekend, and because of the heavy time I put into the gym and in the fashion advice from my amazing friends, I'm looking fabulous while doing all of it.

And the men are a BIG perk. I mean, before I seemed to run into these men who complained about paying the bill, even for the FIRST date. I don't think chivalry is dead, folks. But I was pretending I was so progressive that I was OK with paying, OK with coming over to my place as a date instead of going out, OK with changing my plans because HE freed up some time for ME at the last moment.

Not anymore. The men I date now have cars. Cars! In NYC, that's like crazy awesome. The men I date pay the tab and I don't even have to pretend to reach in my purse when the bill comes like some girls do. Sure, I'll do that on like date 3 or 4, but on the first date, I am completely blind to the bill. The men I date have jobs. Not unemployed! Not part-time employed! Not even minimum wage-employed. Legitimate jobs with legitimate titles that pay for these tabs and cars they have in their lives. And these men are doing their best to impress ME for a change, rather than telling me their sob story and asking for my help. As far as men are concerned, I'm homeless, broke and unemployed and have nothing to give them. They can offer me everything and I'll take it and consider gracing them with my company as a reward.

I know this might sound a bit callous. It is incredibly diva-like. I also know it sounds materialistic. I'm actually not materialistic at all. But folks, EVERYONE enjoys nice things. Every girl DESERVES higher-caliber men than what seems to be prevalent throughout New York. Before May, I'd only had one guy buy me a drink. EVER. With my new attitude, I'm inviting the positive energy in and at least two men offer to buy me a drink EVERY WEEK. I must be doing something right. Chivalry is not dead to these guys.

So I'll keep you posted. I'm living the life I've chosen, trimming the fat and the negativity that kept me away from my dreams. The end result is bound to be amazing...

Playing the Field

That's what I've been doing lately. I feel quite sophisticated, seeing several men, weighing my options, being squired about town and having drinks and food bought for me. Obviously all that isn't the goal of dating, but it's a quite enjoyable perk from the female perspective.

I used to think if you really wanted to get to know someone, you had to give them your undivided attention. While that might be true for your career, your weight-loss goals, any skills you hope to develop, that kind of focus is too much for the average man to handle.

Scratch that. That kind of focus is too much for the average PERSON to handle.

Someone made a comment on one of the many blogs I read about the fact that, though we complain about relationship games, were we to be handed our ideal mate in the perfect situation at the best time of our life, we'd regard the whole thing as suspicious.

"What do you mean there's no subterfuge? You mean I want him and he wants me and we both just talk? And when I say come over he does and when I say I'm hungry, he magically prepares my favorite food?"

I'd have to agree with this. That's why, for those Latin club geeks like myself, the TRUE meaning of the word "utopia" is not "perfect place" but "no place". It's no place because it can't exist. Humans can't accept or exist in perfection. That's why Adam & Eve went looking for that pesky apple, even though they were in Eden.

So we play games. Some people play more than is necessary, more than should be played if we're going to still call them "games". "Games" are fun. Sure, there's a winner and a loser, but they're ultimately made for our entertainment. But relationship games people play can so easily turn into lies, betrayals and cons and that's where many people get into trouble.

I've been conned. I've fallen for game. In retrospect, some of the game I've fallen for wasn't even that believable but the man was just so cute. And my naive self forgot I KNEW it was a game and fell head over heels with a player.

The solution? Play the field. Go out. Go out A LOT. Go out with men you're not sure you want to go out with. Go out on nights you're tired. Go out even if there's one guy you really like more than the others. Weigh your options. Find what works for you. If none of the guys work, you can keep dating them for fun, or you can find new guys. If one or all of them are playing games, drop the game players. It'll be easier to see who's the real deal when you have a comparison.

Go out. Meet people. Date. And see what happens. :)

Reckless

I just read a quote that really stuck with me, and with which I struggle:

 "Don't be reckless with other people's hearts. Don't put up with those who are reckless with yours."

I'm the epitome of a cheerleader for others, encouraging them, supporting them through the rough times, overlooking their faults and believing in them when no one else would. I guess I have this fantasy that after doing all that (especially when it comes to a guy), the favor will be returned, the person will forever be indebted to me, and their loyalty to me (like mine to them), will be immeasurable.

But, as it turns out, when you stick by people, hoping they'll be there for you, overlooking their faults and not noticing that they don't display any of the characteristics of a person who would even be CAPABLE of being grateful, you sometimes get burned and end up being threatened with court proceedings over a car which is in your name and for which you've been paying (true story). Sometimes, unfortunately, you find out that no one else believed in them because they didn't deserve that kind of support, of energy, of emotional and fiscal investment.

But what do you do when this happens? When you end up with a fractured spine and two broken legs after going out on a limb for a dirtbag, what do you do afterwards?

Do you close off your heart and never let anyone in again, regardless of whether they have all the same red flags as the person who hurt you? Maybe they're just the same sex and that's enough reason to write them off. I've read enough books, watched enough stories and seen enough "empty shell people" (phrase courtesy of "Under the Tuscan Sun") to know that imposing your own version of "locked-in syndrome" for your heart is probably not the best or healthiest way to live your life.

Do you brush it off, say "c'est la vie" and go dashing into the fray once more, figuring that that person was a fluke but the next will be better? That doesn't seem quite right either, as that implies that you haven't learned anything from that little mishap, that maybe love and men and unscrupulous people will ALWAYS turn you into their sucker. If you want to keep your money, dignity and sanity, I wouldn't suggest that route either.

Obviously then, the best solution is something in between. Some way of cutting off SOME people from getting close enough to hurt you, but not the GOOD people. Well, how do you know?

First off, after a train wreck situation like mine, I needed to revamp my allowances from the other person. I was DEFINITELY letting several of the men be "reckless" with my heart, all for the sake of getting to say I rooted for the underdog. But the underdog is a long shot and in the movies, they don't show the other 95% when the underdog finished dead last and bankrupts the team who backed him. And I should have cut them off then instead of hoping their story would turn around. But I didn't, and that's something I need to learn to do.

Secondly, I need to lengthen the screening process for the men I deal with. Maybe 1-3 dates ISN'T enough time to decide I want to pursue a serious relationship with them? Maybe that's not even enough time to decide whether I want to be PHYSICAL with them! Because, as much as people like to pretend, sex is just physical intimacy, and, if you're not ready to get intimate emotionally, you certainly shouldn't be willing to get intimate with your body. Luckily for me, I found that out without needing to test-drive half the men in NYC (although, the way my mother chastises my choices in men, you'd think I did), but the few experiences I've where physical intimacy occurred too soon were painful nonetheless.

Thirdly, I need to take a moment to learn from my mistakes. Following my last relationship, which bordered on apocalyptic for my heart, mind, body and soul (and I get angrier and angrier the more time I spend thinking about it), I tried a fling. Now, the reason I hadn't had a fling before that time was because I'm not a fling type of girl. I get emotionally attached. And that's what happened for me, but luckily the relationship wasn't long enough for the attachment to be too deep to get over, leaving clinging for dear life rather than ending it like I should have. For the first time, I could just walk away. And I also realized, for sure, what I already knew, which is that flings aren't for me. But if I get attached so quickly after physical intimacy, then shouldn't I be being careful about who I go down that road with? The answer is yes. And although it's hard to do, I plan on enjoying the company of several men, but getting physical with NONE of them. They need to know me, they need to LIKE me, they need to CHASE me, and I only need to declare a winner for the most worthy candidate, not the one with the most POTENTIAL, flowery words and attraction.

So, don't give your heart to just anyone, don't stay with someone who's reckless with your heart after you give it to them, and don't assume history will only repeat itself, but also don't assume it can't.

Everybody Plays the Fool...

So, last night I had a great date. My date was a musician I'd played with at a few gigs previously who was older, seemingly stable, successful, and had a car (which in NYC is a huge bonus). All those things taken into account, I was understandably excited when he asked me out on a date. I'd known he was somewhat interested in me from the first time we played together, but never acted on it because I was nervous and also because his vibes weren't overt enough for a person as shy as myself to act upon.

Anyway, he asked me out on a Monday or Tuesday for that Thursday and I was psyched. I was psyched, that is, until it was Wednesday after midnight and our plans still hadn't been firmed up. I thought about letting the whole thing drop, because if he wasn't excited enough to solidify his plans with me, then maybe he wasn't excited enough to go out with me period. But then I thought, hey, why not give him one pass and just ask if we're still on for tomorrow night? That doesn't qualify as chasing him and it's completely legitimate the day before we were supposed to have a date. He gets back to me after a short wait saying he's still down and he'll catch me after his gig. Still no real plans have been made, but we're confirmed to hang out, so I figure I might as well.

But, since the enthusiasm doesn't seem to be mutual for our date, I, of course, require a pep talk from my mom.

Me: "All the books say you're not supposed to remind a guy to think about you. If he doesn't do it on his own, he's just not that into you. Yeah, he could be really busy, but I don't feel like rationalizing his actions before I even go out with him."


Mom: "You're right and you shouldn't. But how about you think of it as just a get together with a friend. Come with low expectations, come with the intent of having a good time, and leave it at that rather than trying to analyze this from a romantic standpoint from the start."

She was right, of course, so after taking an hour to put together an outfit that was sexy but also didn't look like I was trying too hard (and deciding to skip the makeup), we met up to see a movie we'd agreed upon.

The movie was great. And the conversation was great. He leaned a little closer than necessary to talk to me, he played with my bangles, and he touched me "casually" several times as well, letting me know that, if I had any doubt before, this WAS a date and he WAS interested. Because he's a successful musician and a little bit of a sensation, we actually ran into friends of his before and after the movie, with whom we had funny conversations. And even though it was a Thursday night and It was already almost 2am, I said yes to coffee in Times Square. Well, technically, it was tea. But people don't say "going out for tea" yet.

We grab a seat in the many tables in the middle of Times Square and talk about everything and nothing. The conversation is great, it's a nice night out, and despite it being 3am, it was still relatively lively. By 3:45am, he asks what's the next stop, to which I reply I should probably get home.


Him: "What? You didn't tell me you had a full day of work tomorrow. I wouldn't've kept you out so late."


Me: "Believe me, if it was a problem, I would have said something. But I've been hanging out really late lately and tomorrow's Friday so I'm down. I should probably head home now though."

We joked about how "cool" I clearly was if I was so laid back about agreeing to have less than four hours of sleep and walked back to the car. On the way home, we talked and jokes and, again, the conversation was great. The vibe was definitely there. We got along like close friends and joked about how I'd been "too busy" to return his calls in the past (i.e. I was in a relationship with a jealous guy), almost all the way home.

But to get to my place, we had to pass his place, and since he'd already mentioned he'd like me to see it someday and since it was too late to matter if I lost a little more time getting the grand tour, and since we'd already realized it was like ten minutes from me, we stopped at his place.

This dude is living the life--a chic setup, music and art everywhere, no tv (very hip) and plenty of square footage. We listened to music and talked some more and I really felt like an adult. And finally, FINALLY, he got up the nerve to kiss me, etc.

After all that talking and listening to music, etc., it was already time for me to wake up for work! It had been a great night with great, unexpected chemistry and we'd talked about how he'd liked me from the beginning and how I'd inadvertently been polite but abrupt with me when he gave me a ride home that first time. It was a perfect night and he was a perfect gentleman and after a kiss goodbye and a "hit me up later today", I went in and got ready for my work day.

And then something strange happened.

I did hit him up (despite the fact that I really wanted HIM to hit ME up and be "the pursued" in the equation), and he hit me back. But ever since I mentioned having a great time and let me know when we could do it again, it was radio silence. Nothing. My mind went a little crazy and started coming up with scenarios and theories, rationalizations and excuses (the way all women are bound to do), but then I finally settled on "Everybody plays the fool", and maybe I'd just misread the situation.

Or did I? "Playing a fool" would imply that I specifically made a bad decision, perhaps even knowing it wasn't the best idea. But "Wedding Crashers" has one of my favorite lines: "We make the best decisions we can, based on the information at hand", and I believe that applies here. So maybe he did do the guy thing and act weird after a great night. Or maybe one of my many possible excuses was legit. Either way it's out of my hands and should be out of my head and this weekend looks to be a real scorcher. Maybe everybody DOES play the fool, but you should never be ashamed to play the fool. Live your life, and make the best decisions you can.

Party Like It's...2003.5

Ahh, so where was I? Yes, we're in the club and it's 2:30am and my friend has just been aggressively twirled around by a strange dude wearing shorts and sneakers in a Caribbean night club.

SIDENOTE: Is that really how they get down in the West Indies? All the West Indians I've EVER met in my whole life (and I only started to meet them when I moved to the Northeast, 'cause Austin only have Blacks, Whites and Mexicans) have cared more about fashion and their outer appearance than the average fashion designer, so what was that dude doing looking like he just got done playing a pickup game of basketball?

Anyway, when we finally got her down, needless to say she was a bit flustered and that got the Twilight Zone that was this club off to a fitting start. Next, she taps me on the shoulder and says discreetly, "Is that a genie behind you?" I turn around to see a man of ambiguous race wearing loose linen pants, a loose button down long-sleeved shirt and a brown vest, twirling around with great majesty and grace, doing his best impersonation of a male belly dancer. He actually looked more like Aladdin, but that didn't stop me from laughing with gusto and confusing the group of men sitting next to me.

 

SIDENOTE: I hate to say it this way, but what's going on with men today? You have a dark room, pumping music, hot men, scantily clad women and alcohol, and rather than make a move, you want to ride the wall as if you ENJOY spending $20, getting all dressed up and piling all your 50-11 boys into your 2004 Ford Focus just to watch OTHER people dance. Please tell me how this makes sense because I'm at a loss.

To the left of "Aladdin", we see another dude who's content to make his own party, dancing with the enthusiasm of someone dancing home alone, and grabbing every girl who makes the mistake of standing too close to him. A couple of time my friend and I let him take us for a spin, just because we got tired of waiting for the non-crazy men to approach.

Despite the lack of dancing, it was quite stifling, and just to add to the craziness that was that club, on the way to the bathroom for a touch up, I run into the best friend of my ex with whom I'm amidst legal proceedings. He sees me, says hi and goes on his way as if everything's peachy, but I, of course, am thrown off for a good ten minutes worrying if he's only PRETENDING that everything is cool when really he's waiting to shank me while hidden amongst the crowded club.

I keep one eye out the rest of the evening, but my friend and I stay anyway, because we want to get the most out of our $10. This was a bit unfortunate because I've been to better parties in the basements of dirty frat houses in college (hence the 2003 reference). They actually played R. Kelly's "Bump n' Grind", just to add to the nostalgia.

Closing time (4am) came just as we were ready to get the heck out of there and perhaps call it a night. My friend, however, had been getting texts from one of her many suitors asking if we wanted to come hang. At a 7:2 guy to girl ratio, meeting them at the club to hang wasn't possible, but over 85 carefully thought out texts, they conveyed that they wanted the two of us to meet the main guy and his friend to "listen to music" (aka FOOL AROUND) out in Canarsie. I know "listen to music" is code for several reasons:

• It always has been, from the beginning of time, just like "Do you wanna grab a cup of coffee?" does.
• It was 4am.
• Before I was invited to come along, my friend had to send my pic from her phone for their approval.

Anyway, I was down, because I was in the mood for an adventure and as it was already 4am, what was the harm in staying up even later?

While we were firming up the details, we went by the McD's in the Village to refuel and were accosted by two Dominican dudes who wanted us to go home with them instead. I'm not sure whether they were brothers or just good friends, but one of the guys basically sat down with us (although we were actually only PERCHING on the edge of the booth seats, as that particular McD's is covered with chlamydia) and proceeded to tell us how he was on the Subway diet and his boy had a body girls go crazy over ("No homo", he repeated, WAY more times than necessary). Then the other guy, while he was on the phone, proceeded to reach into my girlfriend's fries (without permission or shame) and just eat them, as if this was some sort of potluck and our fries were the contribution. Ummmm, NO!

So we left and finished finalizing out plans on a busy corner with a bunch of other people coming off their club highs. And yes, I do notice that I'm mentioning many things that were occurring while we were firming up our post-club plans, and that's because the dudes we were working with were taking FOREVER. In the meantime, we were acting a fool and some other guys (quite cute, in my opinion) started laughing at/with us about the whole situation and flirting. With a little prompting from my friend, I flirted back and we started talking to them while the other dudes got it together and came to pick us up (heck no we weren't going to take ANOTHER cab just to meet them to drive us to Brooklyn).

When the plans with the other dudes were finally firm, we asked the new dudes if they would walk us to meet them, just in case we decided we didn't want to go, and we could chill with them instead. They weren't doing anything, so they agreed and we chatted and laughed all the way to the corner to meet the other guys.

The other guys were waiting for us in the car but, because they'd taken so long to make the plans, we kept them waiting for a bit. By a bit I mean, like, THREE MINUTES after they said it was indeed them in the car. After only three minutes of lollygagging and no calls or texts from the dudes telling us to hurry up and get in the car, they simply sped off into the night without us.

Ain't that a bitch?! So now my friend is having an angry phone call with the dudes who were pissed they saw us talking to other dudes (even though they didn't even KNOW me and none of the dudes claimed my friend either) and I'm openly flirting with both of the new dudes who turned out to be brothers. Once they heard how pissed we were to lose a ride home, they mentioned they had actually had a car and could give us a ride.

Praise Jesus! Sure, it probably isn't the BEST idea to take rides from complete strangers at like 5am with no clue whether they're fit to drive or whether they may, in fact, drive us to an abandoned truck yard and murder us with NYC rats eating all the evidence...but we were already in "adventure" mode, so we said sure.

And actually they turned out to be really cool guys. They plays "classics" for us (including "Ice Ice, Baby" and "Hammer Time"), joked around the whole time, and they were Lakers fans. One of the brothers took our numbers and texted me after they dropped us off. I thought that'd be the beginning of a little back and forth, but it stopped around 6:30am and I haven't heard from him since. C'est la vie. It was still a lovely and quite memorable night.

Anyway, that's why it was impossible for me to blog: I was recovering. If you can believe it, we went out again on Monday, lol. I think these New New Yorkers are infecting me with their enthusiasm for the city. That's fine by me!

Party Like It's...2003

It's been a bit longer than normal since I posted and I thought an explanation was in order.

Well, as I mentioned, I'm trying to fill up all my "free" time with socializing and worthwhile endeavors lately, so it's not "free" for any BS to creep in. In keeping with that, I met up with my old crew from college for a long-postponed reunion in the city. It was just supposed to be a late lunch at four o'clock, shopping, a visit to a wine bar and then clubbing, but by 4:15pm, we already knew those plans were dust.

Of course, it's 4pm, it's past lunch but it's not quite dinner but with this ridiculous NYC heat and humidity sapping the life out of us, we were already hungry. Did we grab a quick slice? Did we hit Subway so we could eat and shop? Patronize the nearest Gray's Papaya? No. Instead, we went to a ridiculously overpriced restaurant in the Village, specializing in Asian-Brazilian (or "Braz-Asian", a term coined by my loctician) fusion. It was restaurant week in NYC, and we could have gotten a full course dinner for $30. Did we do that? NO!

Instead the hostess seated us at a booth where we were promptly distracted by hot Brazilian men in soccer shirts (and we spent a good fifteen minutes debating whether to switch tables to be closer to them), and real Carnival dancers sashaying through the restaurant every fifteen minutes. Needless to say, that made choosing from a menu a little tough, so, FOR NO REASON AT ALL, we decided to pretend we were ballers ("pretend" is the key word, as with all of us being no more than three years out of college, NONE of us are ACTUALLY ballers) and just order a bunch of things to be shared amongst the table. Reminder!: We had NO restaurant week coupons.

The waitress came and we each pointed at about menu items like we were choosing from the dollar menu, when they were really about $16 a pop, my girlfriends drank cocktails like they got free refills (NO, they did not), and when we were still hungry after a table full of tiny (but tasty) expensive food (including half a lobster), we ordered a table full of dessert. Basically, each time the waitress came by, we ordered something new, and we kept laughing amongst ourselves that there was NO reason for us to be doing this. But hey, it's NYC, and sometimes you just have to blow some cash.

When the check came, the party slowed down a bit: $193.47. Let me repeat that again: $193.47. For THREE people, for LUNCH. Oh yeah, we were pretending to be ballers, and next week, we'll be pretending to be BROKE. With tip, my girlfriends paid $90 (EACH), and I paid $60 (giving up alcohol may be the most cost-effective lifestyle choice I've ever made).

After that catastrophe (which we all stayed good-humored about and could, thankfully, actually afford), we decided to make ourselves feel better with a little retail therapy. 'Cause that makes sense: sad about spending too much money? Spend more money! We visited an adult shop that I've accidentally been to about four times (I keep thinking I'm going to a different store until I get inside) and joked about the ridiculous contraptions and costumes all over the walls (all of which looked slightly dirty, like this was a delayed shipment from 2002).

Next, my girlfriends felt like their buzz was wearing off and we ALL agreed it was time to see some beautiful Black men, so we went down to a Caribbean hot spot for drinks and a little nosh. We flirted with the bartender, we openly oggled the waiters and any man not with a date, they ordered several CARAFES of rum punch and wings, my friend dropped it like it was hot in a classy dress better suited to the Kentucky Derby, and added some more friends to our little "I Love NYC" party. The waiter actually commented that I was the sane one of the bunch, probably because I was the only one who hadn't been drinking since 4pm (it was 8pm now), and because the most sophisticated one of us was now dropping F-bombs like confetti.

Our new friends hadn't eaten, so while they stayed in theVillage, we went Uptown for cheap karaoke. The DJ there was hot, but not sending any play our way. There were clearly several other parties including a bunch a Latino folks (and no offense, karaoke sounds horrendous enough in English, but to add that I couldn't understand what they were saying and that each song was about EIGHT minutes long, I was about to blow my eardrums out on purpose), and a group of people that were clearly models, as they were almost killed by the air conditioning unit on the low ceiling of the stage and because they were way too tall and perfectly beautiful to be normal people. One of the friends from the Village finally joined us after he'd eaten and TWO HOURS LATER, we finally decided to head BACK to the Village to go clubbing.

We searched everywhere on the strip for a club with enough Black men for our tastes (and a new friend we'd who'd met us along the way had a few hookups along the way to avoid all the covers as we perused the club's racial makeup). Unfortunately, we came up empty, and settled for cheap shots at a hookah bar until we remembered the Caribbean spot we had drinks earlier is a club in the late night hours, so we went back.

When our friend who normally clubs for free and our grad student friend found out the cover was $10 (some strange man we THOUGHT worked for the club got us a discount from $20--he didn't actually work for the club and kept saying "I could sell ice to an Eskimo."), they passed and it was just me and one girlfriend left.

Immediately, we enjoyed that our people were thick in there--so thick the heat and humidity INSIDE was stifling. A man, out of nowhere (and wearing shorts and athletic shoes in a CLUB), picked up my friend and started twirling her around. It took three people (including our friend from outside the club who acted as our guardian angel the entire time in the club) to get her down.

The time was now 2:30am. We didn't get home until 6am. To be continued...

Binge & Purge

I mentioned in an earlier post that I was playing the "wait & see" game with a few dudes in whom I was interested. But after incessantly checking for messages and IMs and pokes and winks and texts and missed calls and what not, I realized that game wasn't very fun.

I also realized I wasn't still playing it with my current guys. I'd deleted a whole bunch of spam in my facebook inbox, but left a few things, as well. What I left were any emails from men in whom I'd been interested. Some of them were "Dear Jane" letters, some were cryptic notes clearly meant to do nothing but confuse, but most were apologies from the men with whom I'd been involved for acting unkind to me. For some reason, I felt the need to hold onto these, even if the men had long ago left my life.

And I woke up this morning and wondered why. Why was I keeping these tokens of their feelings for me? Why should I care how ANY guy feels about me, past or present. I'm single, no one is courting me, no one is actively pursuing me, no one is even overtly conveying interest in me. So why not let these things go?

And so I did. I deleted not only everything from these men in my life (some my skeletons in the closet, some my white whales), but everything I'd sent to them. It was a clean slate. And although I've lost thirty-something pounds, I already feel so much lighter after having hoarded all that negative energy for so long. It's gone. I'm not waiting for anything or anyone to happen to me. I'm making things happen myself (and with the divine's help).

And in that same vein, I experimented with simply smiling at attractive men I passed on the street on my way to the gym and I was pleasantly surprised by the many responses. I think I'll do this all the time. :)

In the Meantime...

Not only do I write in several blogs, I read quite a few. My current favorite is VerySmartBrothas.com, which recently posted an article regarding the many exceptions women make to their relationships standards (http://www.verysmartbrothas.com/the-exceptions/). That article, plus numerous conversations with friends and family (including an especially poignant one with my parents following the dissolution of a "casual" relationship), made this post inevitable.

Surely, women should hold onto their many romantic ideals and set standards that will facilitate them ending up with the men they'd really enjoy spending a lifetime with. It's also true that, if we're honest, most women can spot (and DO) a guy that won't work a mile away. We see the yellow, orange and red flags, notice all the "mixed signals" (by the way, I was informed by my father that there's no such thing as "mixed signals" because if a man really wants you, he's very clear), have read He's Just Not That Into You cover to cover and STILL, we make exceptions to all the rules we KNOW we should stick to, for the sake of being in a relationship.

And do you know why? Because all these articles and books and conversations focus on the problem: recognizing an about-nothing man and promptly extricating him from you life. What they DON'T tell you how to do is handle all that alone time you're bound to spend if you insist on keeping your standards intact. A commentator on the aforementioned VSB article said it best: "Alone is lonely." Ok, so we know who the WRONG guy is, and, thanks to countless magazines, romance novels and romantic comedies, we know what Mr. Right should look like. We know that when a guy is interested, he'll come on strong, he won't mince words, all signals will be go and the relationship will progress naturally with no training, no hints dropped about rings, and no ultimatums about whether we'll move in together necessary.

So, we have the tools for relationship success. But what if, say, YEARS pass, and no man actually approaches us that could even be called Mr. Maybe? What if perhaps you end up twenty-five years old, and realize ALL your relationships were fatally flawed, and that you've NEVER been properly courted and start feeling like no man even knows what COURTING is? Sure, you're staying strong and holding out and meanwhile your friends are having children, getting married, or at least in relationships. And you? You've gotten really good at knitting and have learned eight languages in all your spare time.

Look, I'm not saying there's anything wrong with alone time. We all need it and should NEVER give it up, even in a relationship. And sure, having time to learn languages, getting promoted at work, getting so good at your hobbies you can actually make MONEY off of them and going out with your friends are ALL great uses of your time. In no way should not having a relationship and/or kids make you feel like a failure. But if you DO want a relationship, and a long time is passing before a normal, decent guy is approaching you in a respectful manner to even begin dating, which might lead to a relationship, which MIGHT lead to marriage, which MAY or MAY NOT work, then what do you do IN THE MEANTIME, to keep from going slowly crazy?

This is not a rhetorical question. I really do welcome suggestions, and I'm sure a lot of other women do too...

Law of Attraction

I was on the subway on my way to a dentist appointment this morning (which, by the way, is actually TOMORROW), and there were several attractive men on the subway. They were tall, dark and handsome, dressed like they were on their way to a decent job, reading a BOOK, rather than just zoning out with headphones or a video game, and just generally appeared to have it together. Now, they may be the suavest homeless people to ever grace the A train, but my guess is that my assumptions weren't far from the truth for most of them.

Here's the problem: none of them were attracted to me. Not even a glance.

Granted, I was wearing dark jeans, sneakers and a shirt I got in college, so maybe they didn't think I was on their level. But hey, there's no dress code for my job and it was raining. Sue me.

Also, my outfit didn't exactly accentuate my curves. The jeans I wore were my favorite, and I've gotten compliments on my backside in them before, but the shirt was a bit loose (from before I lost the weight), so the small waist I've been working on remained a mystery to them.

And the sneakers? Well, I think they're cute and other WOMEN have asked where I got them (one of the few presents from my con-man ex), but I guess they're not the most feminine creation (even though they ARE women's sneakers) and, therefore, don't garner much attention from the opposite sex.

I get all that. Clearly I didn't bring my A game in the outfit department. But, if I'm honest (and why shouldn't I be with strangers on the internet), whether or not I bring my A game has NEVER mattered in the past. In the past, the guys that have been attracted to me have fallen into at least one of the following categories:

1.) Homeless guys.

 

2.) Creepy old guys.

3.) Regular old guys.

Particularly in church. I guess they've learned the error of their ways, seen the value of a good woman and they're FINALLY ready to settle down.

4.) Married guys.

5.) "Separated" guys.

I guess they figure there's just enough room for me to fit between them? I think not.

 

6.) Con men.

Now look, I know beggars can't be choosers and I should be glad ANYONE is attracted to me (because some people don't have the privilege), but COME ON! According to the Law of Attraction, we attract whatever we're thinking--our thoughts and the energy we send out into the universe manifests and comes back to us. Now take a look at those pictures again.

IS THAT REALLY THE ENERGY I'M SENDING OUT INTO THE UNIVERSE?!?!?!

Judging by the men who come at me on a regular basis, the answer must be yes. That's why I'm growing and changing. It's for me and my own personal growth and improvement, but it's also so that I can attract the right element in my life, and that's not really happening at the moment, whether I wear sneakers or stilettos. So, as I progress in my journey, I'll keep you posted on whether I EVER meet someone a little closer to the male version of myself. No, I don't want to date MYSELF, but a guy who doesn't fit into ANY of the above categories (let alone SEVERAL) would be a step up...

Thick to Thin

I'm feeling a bit melancholy today. My ex boyfriend (who was a legitimate con artist that I realize was doing more and more horrible things as each day post-breakup passes) is reaching out from "beyond the breakup" to mess with me the only way he can. I wish he'd just leave me alone or give up or something, but he won't. I've done my best to erase any memory of him (locks are changed, phones are deactivated and phone numbers blocked, all his belongings have been returned, I'm in a legal dispute for the return of the last of MY property and I even engaged in a little casual fling to get the physical remnants of him out of my body), but he does his best to stay current in my life. Needling me. If you're curious about that story, I'm not sure if I'll ever fully share what went down during that dark time. We'll see....

After a hard run and a hard sleep yesterday, I woke up especially receptive to all the "relationship truths" and "universal truths" that are out there, and I've been deep and introspective. If you're ever having a day like mine, I recommend a song made specifically for these occasions: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sR13ECD71xU

I also woke up, however, not really wanting to talk about all those "truths" and wanting to change the subject entirely. So I thought I'd discuss my major weight loss journey, and where I am today.

My first major weight loss happened when I was 15. When I was 14, after hanging out with friends who had the metabolisms of hummingbirds and eating socially with them, and when my self-esteem was my lowest and I was eating emotionally ALONE, I saw a stretch mark on my stomach. On my arms, sure. My legs, ok. But my stomach? In terms of addiction, that was my rock bottom. I could not, at 14, deal with stretch marks on my stomach. So, after a little urging from my mother (for which I initially hated her, as even though I didn't like myself, I wanted EVERYONE ELSE to love me as I was), I ended up at Camp Shane for six weeks of the summer following my freshman year in high school. Camp Shane was the basis for one of my favorite movies, "Heavyweights", and also the setting for MTV's True Life special, "I Went to Fat Camp".

I arrived at camp a miserable 240 pounds. 240 pounds at 15 is not good. I had reached a size 22 and I won't even mention my bra size, as my "assets" were so big they could've spoken for themselves. I acted in a musical for the first time, swam without a cover up for the first time, and got real attention from a boy for the first time while I was there. I also developed a new respect for skim milk and a love for diet drinks. Six weeks later, I'd lost 23 pounds. TWENTY-THREE POUNDS! I was ecstatic. I returned on a mission to not only lose more, but keep the weight off.

Upon my return, I joined a gym. I joined Curves, which is a smaller gym for women only. I still wasn't ready to work out around men, but I'd discovered a new side of myself that actually LOVED being active. Instead of the pit in the marching band (the group that stands at the front of the field and plays auxillary percussion like xylophone, tempani and chimes), I joined the color guard. A small group of my female marching band friends decided to join the wrestling team and I joined with them. I even did Curves' version of the Atkins diet. Before long, I'd come all the way down to 167 pounds (still my lowest post-adolescent weight) and I wore a size 12 at Old Navy. I was so happy to have said goodbye to stores like Lane Bryant, Fashion Bug and Avenue, although I'm glad places like that exist to offer fashionable clothes to plus-size women.

But then senior year post-prom happened. I was busy getting ready for college and finishing high school and marching season was over. A broken collar bone (and a stern talking-to from my parents) had ended my wrestling career. There were parties and banquets and ceremonies and not a lot of time to maintain the active lifestyle that'd gotten me to my smallest. So slowly but surely the weight started creeping back. Then I left for college with its all-you-can-eat buffet-style meals at EVERY meal, all-night butteries for late night study break feasts, ordering in with the roomies and being so busy adjusting to college that the weight had ballooned back to 200 by my annual checkup.

I was furious, to say the least. All that hard work and I wasn't maintaining my progress. Thankfully, sophomore year my new dorm room was right above the gym and a new iPod made the gym a pleasant experience. I worked out like crazy (although I didn't really change my diet much) and hovered around 185-190 for the remainder of my time in college. It wasn't real victory over my body, but it was better than letting myself go.

But then I moved to NYC after graduation. Once the NYU dorms (with access to their gym) I stayed in for my internship ended and it was time to be in the real world, I suppose I did let myself go. Working at a talent agency that meant waking up at 7:30am and getting home at 10:30pm didn't help things, and neither did being too broke to buy nutritious food. Honestly, unless government addresses the paradox that unhealthy food is cheaper, they will NEVER fully tackle America's obesity problem. Add to that that my depression and the constant stress of my job had me drinking all the time, and working at the agency involved a lot of high-society parties (with high-calorie food), and my weight went back to 215.

Enough was enough. I couldn't afford a gym membership, nor did I have time to work out if I could have. I got exercise DVDs but I got home too beat to do them and spent the weekend catching up on the sleep of which my job was depriving me. I drank, worked, ate, and slept and I didn't have time for myself or to explore the great city in which I lived. That is NOT why I moved to New York. I moved here for a new life of excitement, love, adventure, and to become the sophisticated, worldly, accomplished woman I'd always hoped to be.

So, after finding a better, higher-paying job that afforded me time to pursue my creative endeavors, a more stable work schedule, health insurance, vacation time, and a GYM MEMBERSHIP, I gave my two weeks' notice at the agency. I began working out every week day at the gym on my lunch breaks. I felt like a real New Yorker running to the gym on my lunch break with the rushing masses. But a crazy thing happened.

Nothing. After almost a year of what I THOUGHT was intense exercise, I'd lost maybe ten pounds. I felt better--more energetic, more cardiovascularly fit--but I wasn't SEEING the results I wanted. I rebelled and thought, "So what? I'm fit. Men will see how great a person I am, how talented I am, how accomplished I am, and they'll want to be with me regardless of the extra weight." First, let me say there ARE men like this. There are men who are attracted to larger women. BUT, as long as this is America, which glorifies a more slender body type, and as long as you're talking about MEN, who are very VISUAL creatures, then you will be SEVERELY limiting your pool of potential suitors by not addressing your physique. It sucks (no one knows how much this sucks more than I do), but it's the truth and it's not changing any time soon.

And I'd had it with fighting the truth. My rebellion was doing nothing but making me tired. It wasn't helping me find potential mates. The "it's what's on the inside that counts" movement wasn't gaining any more ground. I was banging my head against the wall. If I was honest, I was also LYING TO MYSELF. I cared about my "outside" just as much as the men I was upset with for doing the same thing. I wanted to be firm and fit and foxy. I wanted the physique I believed went with my idea of a "funky urban girl" (see previous posts for elaboration), and the worldly, sophisticated woman that men went crazy over.

So I went to a nutritionist. I relearned all the things I'd learned at fat camp, but how to apply those rules to the REAL WORLD. I worked out hard. When I hit a plateau, I worked out harder. When I hit another plateau, I changed my workout. When I hit another plateau I got stricter about my diet. I never stopped (and never will) until I reached my goal weight. And even then, it will be all about maintaining and not letting the weight creep back on. Just like an addict, no one could help me until I helped myself, and I was serious this time.

I'm happy to report my weight is hovering around 171-175, almost the smallest I've ever been. My current workout regimen involves running for 45min at least 5x a week. I'm looking good, I'm feeling good, and I'm buying a few too many new outfits to show off all my hard work. It's been a long hard road (and there's still more to go), but it's worth it. I'll definitely keep you posted as my progress continues.