The Block Circlers

Oh, how cold weather and loneliness seem to be an Alzheimer 's-causing combination for the men in my life. I say this because during late summer and early fall, when the living was easy and the fish were jumpin', a few guys that I was talking to let it be known what their conclusional (I love making up words) opinions of me were. I have to say, the reviews were not good. They made it clear that they were looking for a more "adventurous" female, and I just was not cutting the mustard. And to be brutally honest, they also felt I wasn't "sexually immature" and felt like I was in middle school or something. I gave them the ick, so they had to roll. I mean, I still have these texts in my phone! Yet now, that the weather has cooled and the warm-weather situations have become couples, the options have gotten sparse, and they find themselves reaching out to me. Little ol' unsuitable me! Guys like this are referred to in the streets as Block Circlers, and they really are pieces of work. 

"They are reaching out to you because they figure that you may have forgotten what went down earlier. It has been a few months," P explained. 

The explanation makes sense, but it is shocking. I mean, if I told a woman in my life that I thought that she sucked and was too much like a kid to get on my level, I wouldn't expect to hear from her ever again. I wouldn't want to talk to her again either. However, this is not the mindset of the Block Circler. They are motivated by testosterone and loneliness, and they are not be trifled with. They are convincing! They come at you with such renewed enthusiasm that it will have you wondering if you imagined the text argument that left you devastated and in tears. Let me just tell you: you didn't. 

I say all that to say that I would love to have some love under the tree this holiday, just like every other single person in this romantic wasteland of a city. Call me high maintenance, but I would also like that person under the tree to actually like me. I shudder to think of all the people involved in a block circle blunder with someone who won't make it to Valentine's Day. They are setting themselves up to learn the same lesson twice. Yikes! They will also inevitably end up alone again, even if only for a short time, before people start taking partner applications in March. 

My short foray into dating has shown me that romance procurement is a cyclical situation. This is why people dump their nobody after Dr. King Day so that they aren't on the hook for V-Day plans. This is also why they reach back out to that same person right before it's time to put up the tree. I have to say that it doesn't really feel good being the person being circle-blocked upon.  However, it's cold out and I have nothing else to do. I might as well reply to that good morning text. 😒

Blah

For the first holiday in a lot of holidays, I am finding that I am not suffering from seasonal depression. This may have something to do with my apparently not recognizing that the holidays are happening. It is hard to be depressed about something that you are not acknowledging is going on in real time. I just happened to look up yesterday and noticed that there was something off about the living room. 

"Are we not putting up the Christmas tree this year?" I asked my aunt. 

She looked over at the empty space where the tree would usually be standing. "I guess not."

Although it is very cold in Atlanta, it doesn't feel like Christmas to me. Even with the hundreds of bad holiday movies I am confronted with on all my streaming services, I can't equate right now with being just a few days before Christmas. I even missed my holiday service at church, but not on purpose. The days flew by, and I forgot to go. 

My grandma used to say that Christmas is really a celebration for the kids in your family, which is crazy, because my 7-year-old nephew is usually holiday crazy, but has not been this time around. He formulated a completely unrealistic Christmas list based on a catalogue that came in the mail from Amazon. He gave it to me, and that was the last thing I heard him say about Christmas. 

I'm not unhappy this go 'round, but I am certainly not jolly. There is so much going on in the world and in the country that I think that the holiday spirit, or even negative feelings I may have around it, have been zapped from my consciousness. I even turn 41 in like a week and have no feelings about it outside of being grateful. My emotion about the holiday boils down to one word: blah. 

Another One Bites the Dust

I have been texting with a nice guy on a dating app I am on. He is super chill and cute and seems pretty normal. However, on Wednesday, he asked me via text if I wanted kids. I told him I was cool with being a stepmom if my partner had kids, but I didn't want to have kids out of my own body. He asked me why and said he was just asking. Sigh. So, I told him the truth. I never wanted to have kids of my own because being the oldest of four made me feel like a mom when I was a kid. However, as stated previously, I have no problem being a stepmom. He left me on read. 

Two things. First off, I can not believe that I am being asked at 40 if I want to have kids. When do men think that the menopausal process starts? 75? I really do believe that ever since Janet Jackson had a baby at 103, men have gotten confused and all turned around on the matter. I'm about to age out of the game bruh! If I got pregnant today, I really do believe that I would give birth to a walnut. Secondly, let's make a rule. Let's have it chiseled into stone and then sent out on little laminated cards for people to keep in their pockets. When we are discussing a matter as serious as family planning, it is INHUMANE to leave a person on read. We are not animals, sir! And even if we were, I like to believe that if a man gazelle was texting a lady gazelle about babies, he would reply to all messages because, and this is important, they even have decency in the wild. 

Wednesday was a long time ago. I wonder if my response turned him off or if he is just busy? Who knows? What I do know is that I promised myself a long time ago not to lie about whether or not I wanted to have kids. So, I hope he does respond. If not, at least I was honest. 

The Last Normal Man in America

I was excited to meet Tiesh's new boyfriend, Michael, because we had been praying for him for about 10 years, and I wanted to see what God provided. However, I was a little nervous. I have self-appointed myself the New Partnership Interrogator/Partnership Procurement Officer for my friend groups, and over the years, I have gotten really good at the job. Just consider me an Olivia Benson for my single friends. I investigate, ask the hard questions, and try to sniff out any general b*tcha*sness that my friends may be missing. 

What makes me so good at the job when I don't have a man myself? Being fat. When you are a fat person, you kind of live life on the sidelines while everyone else is moving and shaking. And before I became the ball of awesomeness that is grown Holly, kiddie, tween, and teen Holly observed and filed enough foolishness from the relationships of the people around her, uninterrupted and clearly, that she was set by young adulthood to start her gig. I can spot a loser from a mile away. There are signs, sayings, and even aromas that alert me to when one of my friends has bagged someone bogus. Tiesh is my friend with good sense, so I doubted that Michael would be horrible, but even your smartest friend can make an oopsie. I invited them to my Airbnb when I got to New Orleans for a sit-down in the house's really cutely decorated living area. But make no mistake about it. Tiesh and Michael were walking into an interrogation room. 

At first sight, Michael seemed sweet, handsome, and unassuming. This means nothing. My last friend who dated a guy with those same qualities found out six months in that he was bisexual with kids he didn't claim. It was imperative that I not be moved by any outside factors, like the huge smile Tiesh got when Michael spoke. It's cute but irrelevant. After some small talk, it was time to get down to business. 

"Are you going to marry Tiesh?" I asked him. I mean, come on, if not, why were we all there? 40 is different than 20. There is no time to waste. 

He said that he hoped to, if she said yes. And he went on to talk about his family and his job and his willingness to move to New Orleans to be with Tiesh if need be. He communicated clearly. No sexual undertones. Didn't seem annoyed, scared, or humored by my line of questioning. Showed me a picture of his grandkid. Helped me out of an overly plush chair my butt sank into before leaving. After he left, I sat silently with my thoughts in the bedroom, preparing a mental debrief for Tiesh for when she inevitably reached out for my opinion. After much deliberation, I concluded that for about an hour, I may have been in the company of a normal man. 

Yes, my findings are based on only what I have observed. For all I know, this guy could have a freezer bag full of babydoll heads in his car trunk. But I don't think that is the case. A lot of women do not agree with me, but I think normal is good. Over the years, normal has translated to boring. But let me tell you, in a world where men lie and cheat and have all types of freaky tricks up their sleeves, normal is what you want, especially in middle age. Desiring a man who keeps you on the edge of your seat with falsehoods and mind-bending lie-riddles is a young woman's game, and a fruitless one at that. Dealing with men with those qualities in your 20s, you will be lucky not to be loony by your 30s and out for blood by your 40s. You want a guy that you can believe that makes your blood pressure stabilize, and I think that Michael may be this man for Tiesh. 

I was happy to report this to her, and I am prayerful that 2026 brings normal guys for the rest of my single friends, in the event that Michael is not the last normal man left in America. 

Homecoming Post 8: Get Back for the Gotaway

So, I have been talking to friends, getting everyone's debriefings of Xavier's AMAZING Centennial Homecoming, and some of us 30+ ladies have been a touch naughty. You know what I'm talking about. Coming back to campus, trying to rekindle love affairs with those ones that got away. I mean, this would be cool if many of our Xavier brothers weren't married, otherwise coupled, or lying about not being married or otherwise coupled. Obviously, we all read that same horrifying article that said that by our age, we have probably met or even dated our forever person. I just want to apologize to all of you for being judgmental. I can be so high and mighty sometimes. I was prepared to call all of you to the administration building steps for a stern talking to until I had to remind myself that I'd had plans to almost do the same exact thing.  

Anyone who knows me knows that I stayed in love with someone my whole four years of college. Of course, all of these loves were unrequited. The African Alpha, the light-skinnededed Kappa, the Sigma with the weird last name, and ALL the Omegas. They were all Prince Charmings in my eyes until a guy held the door open for me coming out of the library, and I fell in love with him, too. Yet out of nowhere, I met this guy who was a dork and weird and funny and taller than me, and I thought that he was the best thing since gauchos. Sidebar: Do you all remember gauchos? When are they going to bring those back? What an easy and comfortable pair of pants! Sure, they gave you camel toe, but they were the perfect airy, light choice for the summer walking to class. Anyway, we will call this guy Twinkle. 

I have not seen Twinkle in person in ages, and I know for sure that he had no interest in me. I was friend-zoned to the furthest extent of the cosmos. But he was still nice to me anyway and didn't care that I followed him around. He was just a cool dude. Then I graduated and he married one of the Elephant People. Sometimes, I think about inquiring about him to one of the Elephant People because there are Elephant People who are my people. However, I am not sure how they will receive my inquiry. Will they be receiving it as one of my people or one of the Elephant People, because if the inquiry is received as one of my people, that Elephant Person will tell me to shut up and sit down somewhere, but if they take in my inquiry as one of the Elephant People, then they will order my assassination. I really don't want it with the herd. You get me? You get me. 

I imagined what it would have been like if I had run into Twinkle at homecoming. I would not have been as brave as some of you. I just would have settled for seeing him. If I even thought of approaching him, I imagine one of the Elephant People would have done me in with one of those guns from No Country for Old Men. 

My friend DZ used to say that she had a place in her heart for all of her loves. If this is true, if we actually do store the feelings in our hearts for our lost loves, that may have to do for most of us. It is better to hold on to our memories and dignity than end up losing our teeth because of a pissed off girlfriend. By this age, we probably all have a few that we think got away. But let's be realistic. Even if we are hot and they are single, there is a slim chance that we will be getting them back. Don't cry about it girl! You can always see what's up at your high school reunion. 

Homecoming Post 7: Justin Did Something to Deirdra pt. 2

As I get older, my tolerance for nonsense is getting pretty thin. This is saying a lot, because it wasn't high to begin with. I find that things get on my nerves really easily, and it is becoming increasingly difficult to not say what is on my mind. So as you can probably guess, being around Justin for any length of time has become excruciating. Two years ago, I talked about how something happened between Justin and my friend Deirdra of a sexual nature when we were in college, which I believe was the catalyst behind what would become a very serious and long-lasting mental health struggle for her. And as I spoke to him at one of our homecoming events, I could only imagine how fake I had to look laughing and shooting the sh*t with him. What would Deirdra have said if she had walked into the University Center at the very same time that I was talking to him about his new job?

Here is the thing: Justin has become part of my inner circle because of my other friends. He is funny. He is cool. He is nice. And because I have gotten closer to him over the years, I have these conflicting feelings of friend love for him. Yet my affections for him and my secret disdain for him mix in my stomach like oil and water. Sometimes the rage and the queeziness that I feel when I am around him confuses me so terribly that I don't know whether or not I want to scream or throw up. As he went on and on about this job, I just wanted to grab him up by his shirt collar and scream, "What did you do to Deirdra, you dipsh*t?! And I want the real story, not the crap you told the administration!"

I doubt that he would be honest with me. Deirdra didn't even tell me the whole story, just enough so that I would understand why she was upset. Yet, understanding what she has gone through emotionally, even a little bit, you would surmise that there was a lot she was keeping under her hat. She was private and proud in that way. People have the absolute right to tell their stories to whom they want to when they want to. Yet, all through homecoming, I thought of how messed up it was that he was doing the Xavier dance, and Deirdra is lost in the wind. I haven't heard from her in years, and the last time we spoke, she was very against coming to Xavier for any reason. 

As long as this guy is a part of my friend group, I am going to struggle with this, and quite frankly, it makes me feel icky. Am I dealing with a psycho who can do something bad to someone, then move on, or a guy that did something bad when he was young and then grew up and past it? If I could ask him about it, would he be remorseful if he copped to it at all? I guess the plan from my end is to continue to keep my trap shut. Deirdra would want me to. Luckily, I don't have to see Justin all the time. I hear more about him because the people in my life are crazy about him. On those rare occasions when he comes around, I guess I just have to crank up the phony. I don't know how people can actively be fake. When I am called to do it, it exhausts me. 

Homecoming Post 6: Matchmaking' and Marriage Breakin'

Several of my friends are getting divorced. Some of these divorces I am really surprised about. It's hard to see a couple uncouple, but on the other hand, I've got some single friends ready for their turns at bat, so let's get the divorce ball rolling!

I've always enjoyed playing matchmaker, but it was not until the event on the yard that I realized how critical my self-appointed role as a love connector is. All my homegirls looked fabulous and moisturized, but they were all equipped with their perimenopausal hand fans. All the guys had their I-have-a-child-in-middle-school dad bellies. For once, I wasn't the only person complaining about wanting to sit down and being tired. We are getting old! A young student told me that he was born the year I graduated! Those of us that are still single have hit a fork in the road, especially if we want babies or to not be the oldest papa at the high school graduation. We've either gotta poop or get off the pot. There is no such thing as sloppy seconds anymore. We've gotta put our hat in the game before the buffet closes. 

A part of me wants all these couples to reconcile because duh, it's dusty out here! However, if God has willed for these unions to perish, I need to know for sure. There are coffee dates that need to be scheduled; late in life babies that need to be created.