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. 

Homecoming Post 5: Invisiblisha: Another Drexel Wife Mystery

I ran into Golden Boy on the yard, and by ran into, I mean I was sitting down and he walked in front of me. I never miss an opportunity to hug him because I'm a creeper, and I can feel his muscles through his shirt, and if I hug him strategically, I can rub his back and arms in one smooth swoop, a move I creatively call "The Holly". But I didn't get to Holly him this go round. He seemed to be very worried and preoccupied. 

"What's wrong?" I asked. 

He turned his back to me and looked out into the huge crowd. " I can't find Invisiblisha, my wife," he said, distracted, before he ran off.

I jumped when I heard Golden Boy say wife. It was weird, like hearing a baby curse. I know he has a wife, just like I know the moon is made of cheese. However, like many Drexel wives, she is a bit of an urban legend. On top of that, it is hard to believe that Golden Boy even has a wife, considering what a mimbo he used to be. He also reminded me of a Black Fonzie from Happy Days. Did The Fonz ever get married?

The only girlfriend I knew him to have in school was older than us and scary. Bossy Boots had a way of ordering people around that should be studied by the Navy Seals. After that, it was a revolving door of girls he didn't seem too attached to, and the ones he didn't bone he'd dry hump on the dance floor. Some girls have all the luck. 

I remember I told him once when we were in school that I had heard a group of girls referring to him as a ho, but that I stepped in and told them that wasn't true. 

"Aw, yes, it is," he'd said. He had on his Greek jacket, collar popped, and was sitting in a chair with his feet up on a table in the University Center because he was cool like that. "But it's good to know someone is standing up for me out here."

I watched as Golden Boy pushed through the crowd, looking for his wife. I mean, he was really looking for her. This made me wonder what type of woman can make a promiscuous boy turn into the type of grown man who looks like he is going to cry if he gets separated from her in a crowd. 

That is where my investigation began. 

THE INVESTIGATION 

It is important that you understand my dedication to solving a puzzle to get the footwork it took to find info on this woman. I promise you, I asked every other person who passed me at the tailgate, "Do you know this lady?" And from this Pulitzer-worthy journalistic labor, I discovered two things: she is alive and biologically female. WHAT IS IT WITH THESE DREXEL WIVES?! Are they all farts in the wind? Sitting under the tailgate tent of people who didn't know me and were obviously wondering where I came from, I could feel Invisiblisha in the atmosphere. Breathing. Surveying. Thinking. Ovulating. I have never been married, so I think that a reason why the Invisiblisha caliber of wife confuses me is because if I did have a husband, everyone on Earth would know we were together. People would recognize me from a mile away. I am constantly confused by these Invisiblishas who let their husbands free, out into the wild to be groped by weirdos like me. 

Although I couldn't tell Invisiblisha from a hole in the wall, if she's reading this, I want her to know I see her in the shadows, very much giving Carmen Sandiego vibes. Funny, I don't think anyone ever found Carmen either. 

Homecoming Post 4: Holls and the Throuple

There were a lot of people that I wanted to see at homecoming. Two people that I felt it was imperative to see were Sexy Koala and Hot Wife to potentially discuss being a third in their marriage. They just seem really cool, and I'm in desperate need of a future. After I graduated from college, people told me to get a job and a car, but no one, NO ONE, suggested that I get a future. Turns out, that's important. 

Sexy Koala is tall and cute. I thought so even in school. But what's way more importante than his being tall and cute is that he has a job. I looked him up on LinkedIn. He works someplace I've never heard of, doing something I don't understand. Who can deduce what anyone does with these new-age fancy job titles?? What I have deduced from social media is that he makes money. I don't, so I think he and I would complement each other well in this way. 

Oddly enough, the desire to be a part of Sexy Koala's marriage is not rooted in Sexy Koala; it's rooted in the persona of his hot wife whom I affectionately refer to as Hot Wife. Homegirl has it going on! From what I can see on Instagram, she is living the soft life, and I want in! She's always smiling and happy. Never looks stressed. Once, I saw a pic of her in a hammock. Now you know you are in your soft girl era when you are chillin' in a hammock! I want a soft life. My life is hard, and I want out! All I do is worry about money and bills and the new season of Stranger Things. I too want cool clothes and vacations and gourmet birthday cakes with fancy sparkler candles. I guess that all comes with marrying a provider. That's another thing no one told me to make sure I got: a provider. Damn it! 

I Googled how to approach an existing couple about entering into a throuple, and I didn't like what I read. I in no way want to infringe on their love, but I think I'd be a good helping hand. I like to cook and fold clothes. Hot Wife would still have time to get her nails done, and in return for my hard work, Sexy Koala could take on my student loan payments and phone bill. 

I was excited to see that Sexy Koala came to homecoming, but I didn't see his wife. This sucked because I'd really be making my pitch to her. I think that as a woman, she'd better understand the benefit of having a humorous, live-in maid. As smart as Sexy Koala was in school, I think the concept would go right over his head. 

A part of me is bitter that it has come to this for me, but I'm 40. I can either cry about it or actively begin exploring solutions, and yes, some of them may not be traditional. Just know that when you are in a soul-squeezing rush to find healthcare and stable shelter, traditions of olden days have to fall by the wayside. 

I have a message to them both that I can't send because I keep editing it. My proposal has to be perfect before I reach out. Until then, sadly, it's back to the hardness of it all. Ick.