Being Bernard

I am who those scientific studies are talking about when they discuss how social media is bad for people, particularly the lonely and depressed. It is a fake space that you get to paint with the best moments of your life, leaving everyone to fawn over one another's lies and fairytales. I mean come on now. No one is posting their bills or bad credit scores. For the most part (with the exception of those that post those seven paragraph emo posts on Facebook), social media has become a never-ending scroll of plastic happy moments. Even knowing this, I have become jealous and absolutely obsessed with the "life" of a man I know named Bernard. 

Have you ever wondered if people that you know think about you? I do, mostly because I often think about people I know; what they are doing and how they are feeling. In today's detached world, I think that it is a good thing when people think about others. However, if Bernard knew just how much I thought about him, he would probably block me via all social avenues. I have to say that I am a little obsessed. But not because I am into him romantically, which is usually my M.O. I am hooked on his socials because they paint a picture of him being very...loved. 

What is so interesting about that? Well, for starters, it is important that you understand that Bernard is annoying. He has seemingly gotten more annoying with age. And this isn't just my opinion. People who know of him would overwhelmingly agree. He is very excited. Very energized. Very happy. Very extra. It may even be an understatement to say that the average person might find him completely intolerable. Not the people in his life though. His family and his friends- they consistently love up on him. They are there for him when great things happen like his starting a business and they are there for him when bad things happen like his failed relationships. It is like love surrounds this man from all directions. 

If I sound a little salty it is because I am. At this stage in my life, I can honestly say that I don't think that some of my dearest friends whom I love even like me. I have been sent to voicemail more than a bill collector. I sometimes wonder if those closest to me would even notice if I vanished. Bernard's friends would notice if he went missing. He is the center of their lives. They prioritize him. They seem to pour sunlight and good vibes into his mouth, and he swallows them proudly. I often wonder if he knows how beautiful that is, for I am ten minutes away from becoming buddies with a soccer ball like Tom Hanks in that movie. Say what you want, but that soccer ball was attentive and always there. Soccer ball-type loyalty is hard to find these days. Bernard has found it though, and this makes me hopeful for myself, even through the envy. 

Ain't Never Scared pt 2: Plottin' and Cupcakin'

One of my favorite social media fake relationship counselors said that it is important for single women to know what they want from men. After much deliberation on this, I have decided that what I want most from a man is conversation. Fun, flirty, innocent conversation. 

"Do people still cake on the phone?" I asked P. 

"Are they going to talk about sex?"  he asked. 

I thought about it. "No."

"Then no."

This was disappointing to hear, but as I am now trying to be the creator of the adventure in my life, I have decided to bring cakin' back. Some of my fondest memories as a middle schooler is playing soft music on the radio while me and my gay boyfriend at the time yacked it up about the important things in life: scary movies, our favorite foods, and kids we didn't like in our classes. It was so much fun getting to know him. That is what I want: to get to know a man...to the soundtrack of Jodeci. 

Now, I have asked some of my friends what their response would be if a person they knew but was not interested in romantically slid into their DMs and asked if they were interested in having late night conversations. Their answers were not reassuring. However, the name of the game is not being scary anymore when it comes to things like this. 

There is a guy that I know that I think would be a perfect for a cake call. I have slid into his DMs, typed up a cake invitation, then erased it. Although he seems nice, the idea of him telling all our mutual friends about the shot I attempted to shoot makes me physically ill. For this particular challenge, it has been a bit hard to keep up the Ain't Never Scared energy. I don't do well with being embarrassed. 

Here is the thing: I am a graduate school graduate longing to be in a middle school-paced relationship. I am also lonely and relationship immature. I know that I am skidding towards middle age. All the singles my age on social media are doing podcasts about how they like group sex and anilingus. All I want in my life is the telephone version of hand holding. If you knew me at all you would know that that is really all I can handle. My friend Carol said she will advertise my need for a cake beau on Twitter. I will keep you posted on any developments. 

Ain't Never Scared pt 1: The Vixen and the Baby Daddy

I think I need to get into my Bible. No, I know that I need to get into my Bible, because when I start thinking nasty, gross, inappropriate things about men that I know, that usually means that I am beginning to backslide back into the state of sticky, grotesque, thick horniness that I had previously been delivered from. 

"What is bringing all this about Holly?" 

Okay, I will tell you. 

One of my homegirls Reese recently texted me a picture of a beautiful woman in a flowing dress with a baby bump. A man was standing behind her, holding her baby bump with his hands around her waist. 

"Bones," I said to myself. I recognized him immediately. 

"Is that Bones?" Reese's texted asked. He had his head down in the pic, but it was definitely him. I was shocked. He has had a kid before, but none of us could ever figure out who the baby's mother was. What a difference a few years makes. For baby number two, he took styled, professional photos that were then blown up to enormous posterboards to be displayed at a chic, trendy baby shower where guests could partake in mommyhitos handpicked from an elaborate wall refreshment display. 

Let me be clear: I am happy for Bones. He's fine. Mrs. Bones is fine. And chances are that baby is going to arrive catalogue model ready. Bones is just representative of someone that I used to like and didn't tell. And let me be clear again: I am in no way Bones's type. He likes cheerleaders and women that look like they were created by Mattel. I didn't say anything in college because I was scared, and I didn't say anything after college because I was mortified. The closest I got was writing him a poem that I only shared with Liz and that I will now share with you. 

Asked the vixen to her master:

"Where do I touch you?"

Said the master to his vixen:

"Touch me where you touch yourself."

I remember that Liz was silent on the other end of the line. After about two minutes of deliberation, she said, "Don't ever send that to him. If you ever want to send it to him, send it to me, and I will respond like I am him." 

Okay, Liz was probably right. Erotic poetry was probably not the way to let my feelings be known. 

"But Holly, why would you tell him you liked him when you know he wasn't going to like you back?"

Good question. And the short answer is so that I can stop being scary. As you know, a closed mouth does not get fed, which is probably why I am love starved as we speak. Bones is just one of many, and as I get older, I have become more and more impatient with my being scared. And this isn't just with men, it's with everything! One day I want to confidently be able to proclaim, "I ain't never scared!" and mean it. Until then, I'm just a vixen without a master. But I'm working on it. I can't be scared of being scary anymore. 

Finding Cameron

I found my kindergarten/ 1st grade crush on Facebook! Well, I didn't really find him. He popped up as a friend suggestion. I don't know what made me pay attention to the suggestion. I usually ignore them because I NEVER know who Facebook says I should but there he was: Cameron. 

I went through his page with my stalker hat on, trying to figure out what he has been up to all these years. He isn't that consistent of a Facebook poster, but from what I could tell, he has had a good life. He graduated from an HBCU. He is a Sigma. I don't know what he does for a living, but he looks like success. The only thing annoying on his page is that he has a girlfriend and it looks like they do workouts together. Gross. 

Seeing that he had not posted anything in months, I decided to send him a friend request, not expecting him to respond. He accepted it a second later, and since then (which was Monday morning), I have been in a state of euphoria. 

Come with me on my mental spaceship to 1990, East Point, Georgia. I was obsessed with edible bracelets and glow in the dark scrunchies. I had a serious addiction to Fruit Rollups, and I was majorly crushing on the boy that sat beside me in class. His name was Cameron, and his voice was high and his laughter was loud and sounded like he was singing. His head and face were always shiny, like his mom put oil on his hair and then rubbed the rest of it over his face. I actually know that is what happened because my grandma did that to me all the time. He was mischievous, but he wasn't bad. He just liked to do little annoying things that got him sent to time out. And he had slits in his eyebrows. Child. I am into men today with eyebrow slits! 

Looking at his page, I realized that I have been into the same type of guy my whole life, which further feeds into my feeling that you are who you are when you are born and do very little evolving as you get older. The cards are dealt from the jump. Okay. I am starting to babble. The point is I recently came across the man named Cameron, smiling and being lighthearted on social media, and I can totally see why I was into him when I was a child. Just thought I would share. 

Summer Scents: Good Chemistry

I can be a little persnickety when it comes to fragrances, especially in the summer. For me, this is a time for softer, lighter scents, and often the ones that are recommended to me are way too heavy for the heat. Well, Good Chemistry has nailed it with this collection of beautiful summer scents that coasts on amazing blends of fruit and vanilla. Here are a few of my favorites:

When you think Sugar Berry, think raspberry with a touch of vanilla. Think beach vibes. Think vaykay. It's one of those fragrances that you wear and then end up sniffing yourself throughout the day. Yes, she's that yummy! 

Be careful with Cheerful Charmer, she's sexy! With hints of coconut milk, apple blossom, and vanilla, she's giving summer love. She's giving little black dress. She's giving good trouble all season long! 

Pink Palm is cute. She's clean. She's the fragrance that you reach for when you want to give them just a little something to talk about. A mix of dragon fruit, magnolia, and sugared vanilla, Pink Palm needs to be a staple in your purse for the summer. 

Not only does Good Chemisty have great fragrances, it's also a great company all around. Their products are dye-free, paraffin-free, paraben-free, and GMO-free. They are also PETA Certified Cruelty-Free and Vegan. Their fragrances range from $28.99-$12.99, so they are also affordable. I think that my absolute favorite is Pink Palm. Let me know which one you fall in love with. 

Black Doug Funnie and the Fight for Love

I have been dreaming a lot about men lately. P says it is because I am horny, but I don't think that is what it is. In these dreams, I am just talking to these men on some getting to know you, getting to know all about you type of stuff. Last night's dream was no different. 

Do you believe that God communicates with you through dreams? I do. So as a single woman dreaming about men, I am trying to pay extra attention to what God may be trying to say. I am in no way a dream interpreter, but I am going to try to figure out what He was trying to say in the dream that I had last night. 

Okay, so in the first part of the dream I am some type of Fear Factor death match with zombies and Jason and Freddy kinds of characters. After fighting tooth and nail, I make it out victorious. And I mean, I was fighting; punching, kicking, clawing, and even roundhousing these monsters. I think that this is representative of being single in Atlanta for over 15 years. I mean, can you think of anything scarier?

After I won the battle, I ended up in the lobby of my grandmother's old retirement home. I think that this is representative of my fears of being old and alone. There was a group of people hanging out in the lobby, and I was waiting for the elevator to go up to see my grandmother. I think that this represents how I often wish I could ask her for her advice. 

While I was waiting, a man taps me on the shoulder and asks me if I'm single. And I am like, "Yeah." He asks me how old I am and I tell him. Then he tells me how old he is, and I don't recall the age, but I know he was younger. Sigh. What I think God is telling me here is to not disregard the tenderonies even though He knows that I would like a man my age or older but hey, you can't argue with God. 

Talking to this man, I felt very happy and loved and at peace. He got on the elevator with me and my aunt, who appeared out of nowhere, and he was talking to her. I think God is reassuring that whoever this mystery man is, he will get along with my...interesting family. 

The thing that I remember most about this guy is that he looked like a Black version of Doug Funnie from the hit '90s Nickelodeon show "Doug". He even had on the same outfit and everything! And in my dream, I just felt like he was so adorable. 

P once told me that your dreams are not about what they seem to be about on the surface. I don't think this is true for me because God knows that I am not good at riddles. If He wants to give me a message, He knows He has to give it plain and simple. Hopefully, God is saying that my man is a loveable nerd, possibly born in the '90s, who will love me like Doug loved Patti. So now, my eyes are super peeled for this dream lover. If you run across a big-nosed Black man in a sweater vest and khaki shorts, send him my way. I'm trying to see something...

Bye-bye Boy Beus

Getting baptized was a huge event in my life. I made a decision to try to do better and be better. That included making a conscious decision not to lie or hurt people. I also tried to let go of some bad habits. One of these bad habits was spending time on Instagram being thirsty in a dehydrated fashion. 

After many nights of my friends dodging my phone calls or not finding anything good to watch on Netflix, I am sad to admit that I have fallen backwards into my favorite naughty pastime: profile stalking really hot men with dark skin and abs on social media. 

Cigarettes can be addictive. I know that firsthand from watching my mom kick the habit cold turkey. And alcohol is a nightmare too. A couple of my college friends have had to dry out from the bottle. But is there anything more addictive than tall, muscular, Black men on IG doing deadlifts in hoochie daddy workout shorts? It's like kitty nip to me! 

I shutter to think how many nights God has watched me under my blanket, scrolling through hunks until my thumb started to tingle. And let it just be known: I love them all. The physical trainers that meal prep grilled chicken breasts topless. The professional men that do tutorials on how to style a suit. The bearded brothas that lather their facial hair in Shea butter. The social justice hotties with wild locks and afros that wear tees with Africa on them. And who can forget the trap guys that do little videos from the front seats of their Dodge Chargers? I mean, the list go on and on!

After I got baptized, I stopped following a lot of these guys. It was for the best. I didn't see how I could be lusty and Godly at the same time. So, bidding adieu to the cuties was an act of good faith on my end. Then it seemed like as I got more stressed out about school and life and friends and work and whatever, I desired to look up the eye candy again. Somehow, I was able to refrain...until about 40 of them came up on my Explore page one day. That was all it took. Now I have moonwalked back down the rabbit hole of the fit and the sexy. It's a sad story. 

Now it is time to get back on the right track and ghost these guys. Even the sexy one with the beautiful smile that I tell myself I follow because he gives out great workout advice. Oh please. 

I will keep you posted on my progress.