The Oversexed Mess

Although I participated in sex education when I was in grade and middle school, I got my more "graphic" sex education from HBO's Real Sex like most young, unsupervised kids with basic cable back in the day. When no one was looking, I also had this bad habit of turning to the Spice Network and buying Black erotic literature with the months of saved change I got from doing odd chores. I say this to ask this: Why do oversexed MTV videos offend me? Perhaps I have been overly sex exposed and I'm just exhausted with the whole scene, but at the age of nine, watching 50-year-old swingers get it on on Real Sex did not bother me as much as any Lady Gaga video does today. Ginuwine somehow did not seem as in-your-face as Pleasure P. Madonna has been kissing girls since the early 90s, but Katy Perry makes me a little uneasy. Maybe I am so creeped out because of the imbalance. When I was a kid, there were 99 Brandis for every 1 Madonna. Today there are 99 Britney Spears' for every 1 Taylor Swift. This is too much, even for me! I predict that in ten more years, there will be a music video where Lil' Wayne drizzles dollar bills on the head of a stripper who is licking Korbel off of his wewe and I will not be phased. By this time I will be effectively desensitized. Not sure if this is a good thing or not.

'Cuzi Crushin'

Yesterday I engaged in my usual pool-robics convo with my friend Diana; my fifty-something-year-old homie that has to be the sweetest woman I have ever met. The last time we spoke, she was totally crushing on this Italian man that goes to her church. She emailed him, he essentially said he wasn't interested, but her affections did not wain. She emailed him again. No reply. She has decided to let it go.
But as we sat in the hot tub together, it seemed that the one thing she can't let go is her frustration with being alone. She told me that all she wants is someone to grow old with; someone to escort her to church. As I have said in previous posts, I feel that I connect with Diana. She wants a partner, and I want a man who dislikes sex and lives to give me shoulder kisses. You see the connection.
When she told me this, I could feel her agitation through the boiling tub 'cuzi water. And I felt her pain, seeing that after she made her comment, I mind slideshowed all my friends who have cheated on people, dumped people, been with the same person since daycare, or have just gotten married. And I know these people...well. I am sure that they do not buy new clothes for the homeless while they shop at the Goodwill or do hours and hours of volunteer work for their churches.
I'm not saying that being a saint should guarantee you companionship, but Ms. Diana is and the fact that she doesn't just doesn't seem fair. Who decides who gets the gettin'? Why do shitty girls have a card catalog of callers while Diane sits in the hot tub with her lip poked out? This I wonder on occasion, especially when I come across her. I can only hope I don't end up her age, wondering the same thing still.

The Man, the main, and the Mrs.

After meeting a young man that my cousin brought home from college this Thanksgiving I have to say that yet again, the male process of deductive reasoning never ceases to amaze me.
First off, let me describe this guy to you. He is tall and thin and handsome and brown. He may be a couple of months shy of 21. He is a broadcast major that keeps clips of his work handy on an adorable bite-size laptop in a matching bite size bag. He agrees that commentator news is killing journalism. Although he is only a sophomore, he has traveled to Cambodia to do a hard, international piece, and he doesn't sag his skinny jeans. That's really important because a sagging skinny on a man makes my stomach ache.
I say that all to say, in a nutshell, that this guy comes off as an upstanding young man. However, I feel that there are some women out there that may feel his relationship practices could label him as otherwise.
Never missing a chance to interview a young cutie, and potentially find a match for a single buddy, I asked the lad if he was single. He said yes. But a few follow-up questions revealed that he has a girl, a P.Y.T. that he refers to as his "main." Even though he has been dating her for four years and did not mind me referring to her as his girlfriend, he still considers himself single. Why? Because he's not married silly.
And since he is not married, he also has another girl, I mean woman, on the side. He refers to her as a "Sugar Mama" who's 32-years-old and married with kids. I had to laugh as well as respect his swag. I mean really, how did he find a grown woman to financially support him in this economy? But hey, it is not that he does not earn his sugar mama's sweets. As he said, she needed someone to "take care of business." You can deduce what that means.
For some reason, I wanted to know why the "Sugar" just didn't leave her husband if she was unhappy. He said he wouldn't want her to because, at his age, he couldn't "do anything with her" if she did. I also asked him about commitment, to his "main" of four years. He then informed me that, if you are not married, there is no such thing. But he did share that he one day hopes to get married and have kids, so I asked him at what point do you get serious with a woman to even lead to that point. He did not know, but assured me that you do commit once rings have been exchanged.
Although I appreciated his honesty, I was a bit annoyed with the feeling that I got that he viewed women as disposable. But I guess I have to stand in his Steve Maddens here. He is a young, college-educated brotha with no kids who is clearly going places in life. He attends a college where the ratio of women to men is 7:1. With those odds, it seems that women can be tossed and replaced.
I enjoyed speaking with this guy, because I feel that he represents a new generation of daters who, essentially, don't date. So where does this leave females who have been searching since their first Disney movie for commitment? Up the creek without a paddle I would imagine, seeing that this guy asked me why someone would even want a commitment. I guess that boys will be boys. Isn't that what they used to say? Boys will be boys until they grow up and become a man, and that is all good. But I guess my ultimate question as someone who is quite unlucky in love is this: what position do young women play until men break out of there Peter Pan phase? From the looks of it, there are always openings for "Sugar Mamas" and "mains."

Sorta Stressed

God, I never thought that I could be so stressed out by not really being in a relationship with a guy who does not even live in my state!
OK, so this is the official Sorta Beau update. Remember how I felt like the main barrier in our kinda relationship was that he had gotten some other chick pregnant? Well, a few weeks ago I called him to see what was up and he was, to say the least, sad. Apparently, this baby is not his. She told him this after eight months of accepting money and baby gifts from him. She also told him that she did not want him in the baby's life, and she was gayly taking his dough and gifts elsewhere to prepare for her labor. Shitty, right?
So he was crying and mad and stuff. Of course, I did not really know how to address the situation, seeing that I have never had to ease the pain of a kind of boy toy before. By the end of the conversation, he was apologizing to me for all the drama and feeling sorry for himself. It was a whopper folks. I decided to give him time to figure things out.
Fast forward about three days ago. I called him to see how he was and he did not sound like himself. He sounded like an asshole. Cursing for no reason. Being belligerent. Sounding a bit mad. I literally thought I was talking to another person. He was not old sweet and nice Sorta at all. He rushed me off the phone and that was that.
...Until I talked to a guy friend about the situation who told me he was probably hurt and I should try to talk to him again. Allow me to be blunt: caring about others is NOT my strong suit, especially when they are rude. But I gave it whirl. I texted him the next day, telling him that I missed talking to him and although he got crapped on, I didn't want him to block me out and that's when he did the unthinkable...he exclamation pointed me!
What is that exactly? That is what it sounds like, pretty much yelling at someone through a text, sealing the deal with an exclamation. This is a major pet peeve of mine. I almost hate it as much as CAPs texting. How annoying.
This whole thing is my fault for not clocking out of this nonsense in the beginning. I mean, where oh where is my constellation prize for sticking with him after he did me dirty? Wasn't I being the girl rappers complain there aren't enough of? I have been talking to this dude for almost a year with nothing to show for it. Now his heart is broken, similar to how mine was when I got the original baby call, and nine months of texts and calls gone down the drain. He's got some shit to work through, and I can't say I want to wait for him to, even though I have no other prospects. Needless to say, I sorta won't be talking to Sorta Beau anymore.

Not Headed to the Chapel

A good friend of mine, Evan, is getting married next week.
Know that when I say this out loud, I say it while doing one of those tight, painful smiles where my teeth don't touch. My eyes are a little watery, and my nails are jammed in my thigh. Needless to say, I will not be attending the ceremony.
I would love to make this about the girl that he is marrying, but it is not. We attended college together and she is pretty cool. I would love to even make this about him. I had a HUGE crush on him in college that you could see from the moon. But, truth be told, I have not talked to him for over a year. He works two jobs and has a little girl now. I think about him, but my heart has made more useless crushes more pertinent, so it's not about him.
You see, I have a close girlfriend, Cassandra, that I call Peter Pan. I call her this, as you may have guessed, because she, in my opinion, refuses to grow up. She drags her feet setting career goals and she doesn't take a lot of things seriously that keep me awake at night with worry. Yet, when I see a friend of mine headed towards adulthood, particularly through marriage, I get edgy.
First off, marriage is so permanent. I know today people literally get divorced after a day or two, but the idea is still permanent. Permanence=Stability=Adulthood. What can I say? I'm an 80s baby. I don't want to grow up. I'm a Toys R Us kid. At 24, when the pressures of my life get to be too much, I just want to curl up in a ball next to my laptop and watch old episodes of "Dark Wing Duck" and "Wishbone."
I also don't like being left behind, which is how I feel when anyone I know takes a significant adult step. It's wack but true.
So, these reasons, finances, and the fact that it's another reminder that I am not progressing at the rate that I would like, is why I can not attend this wedding. Seeing my friends walk down the isle would just take too much out of me. I need all my energy to deal with the fact that, in a little over a month, I am turning 25. Again, tight smile.

The Style List

I was watching TV and there was this actress talking about the different woman in her life or from pop culture that inspired her style or whose style she admired. I usually hate blog lists, but I thought this one would be fun.

• My Grandma
• Claire Huxtable- The Cosby Show
• Julia Sugarbaker- Designing Women
• Jill Scott
• Lisa Turtle- Saved by the Bell
• Moesha- Moesha
• Dorothy Zbornak- The Golden Girls
• Claudia Kishi- The Babysitter's Club
• Dionne- Clueless
• Cher- Any Bob Macky Gown she worn on the 'Sunny and Cher Show'
• Grace Kelly- Rear Window
• Elizabeth Taylor
• Charolette- Sex and the City
• Aaliyah

OK, that is all I could think of right now.

Ink in the Bottle

My friend Justine has met this wonderful man in med school. He is well-versed and well-traveled; fun, nice, and popular. He is a regular Mr. Right, but he stinks...literally.
When she first told me this, I laughed. I mean really, in the dating world, when it's not one thing, it's the other! How is he a medical student with B.O.? According to my girl, he smells bad and no one will tell him, even though every one knows. it and knows him! She really liked him, but the fact that he was punchy was creating a funk barrier between them and the possibility that they could ever get together.
A part of me felt her pain. A smelly man, to say the least, is horrible. I remember how boys smelled in the 2nd grade after recess before they were old enough for deodorant. They smelled like 100 freshly cut onions. When I visited California, I walked into a Taco Bell where a group of men were eating. Apparently, they had just finished playing basketball, and their mustiness overpowered the smell of taco meat and hot sauce, so yes, I understand that severity of a stinky man. But a part of me wanted me to tell her to get over it. Finding a good, educated Black man these days is nearly impossible! So he has an odor? Look on the bright side: he could have kids or a prison record.
Nevertheless, something had to be done about the stench, if for no other reason than the fact that you can not be a grown man who is soon to be a doctor who smells. After about an hour of deliberation, we decided that getting him a gift basket of man soups and gels would do the trick. I figured if Justine got him something strong like Old Spice, that smell would be on him for at least a week whether he showered or not.
Fast forward to yesterday. Justine calls to inform me that she did not get him the basket of boy smell goods. Instead, she decided it was a better idea to tell him he smelled, which was emotional and draining because newsflash: no adult man wants to be told he stinks! In the end, he still did not believe he smelled. He figured Justine was just mistaken.
Needless to say, I don't think they will be hooking up any time soon. This colorful little tale is just further proof of what I have been saying: dating stinks.

Topless Ticky

There is this really chic Asian lady that goes to my gym. I keep forgetting her name, so I have nicknamed her "Ticky." She has to be knocking on forty, but she bops around the gym in those tight Victoria Secret sweats with those spaghetti strap tops. Every time I turn around she is over in the weight section flirting with those huge muscle guys, the ones that don't even look real. She's a flirt, especially with the Black guys, slapping them on the arm.
"You so funny Gerry!" she'll cry.
She is typically the type of woman that would annoy me, but somehow she has become my pal. The only thing is that Ticky LOVES being nakie. When she changes her clothes in the gym she makes a point to walk around topless. When she gets out of the shower, she'll put the towel around her waist and walk around topless, and today, when I went into the sauna, she was topless. I get the feeling that she likes her breasts, probably because they are showroom new. No, I do not have proof that her breasts are fake, and I don't want to stereotype, but I have never seen an Asian woman with double D breasts. And I have really never seen a woman, regardless of race, who had doubles that stood at attention.
Two things bug me about my buddy Ticky. I find her toplessness to be a we bit odd, and second, she does this without thinking about whether or not anyone is uncomfortable. As you all know, I hate nudity, so maybe that is why I am so weirded out, but for once, I would like to go to the gym to get my low-intensity workout on without feeling like I am in the opening scene of Carrie. I know that we are all girls in the locker room and have the same thing, but can't our "same things" be hidden underneath a turtleneck? I have taken it upon myself to tell Ticky, without saying anything, that her little panty parades are inappropriate but I don't know. Selling the idea of being clothed to a woman as self-confident as Ticky could by tricky.

Gastric I'llpass

About three months ago I attended a fab dinner party at my gym friend Jasmine's house. She had invited a few friends over to celebrate her loosing 50lbs. She is from Florida, so there was TONS of island food, and can I just say, it all was delish!
Anywho, at this party, I met this very adorable big couple. The husband coached high school football and the wife was a pharmacist. They were both tall and both considerably large, but together, they were very electric and fun. Leaving the party, I was happy to have met them, particularly the wife. My sides were literally aching from laughing so hard at the colorful stories she told about her job.
Fast forward to late last week. Jasmine tells me after water aerobics that the wife, whose name I sadly don't know, has died from complications with her gastric bypass. Although I had only met her once, I found myself feeling really sad about the whole situation. Another sistah ends up biting the dust from dying to be thin.
Just in case you did not know let me inform you: I am THOROUGHLY against weight loss surgery. The only time I can sort of be for it is if you are so heavy that there is no way that you can exercise on your own to lose weight. The media loves to show you those stupid commercials with a woman in a bikini on one side of the screen and the uglier, fatter her on the right. Never have I seen a commercial that talked about the fatal side to getting such serious surgeries.
My mom had a friend when I was little whose complications caused by her stomach stapling had her feeding herself from a needle. A woman in the mall I once worked at got one of those stomach scrunchies and ended up almost completely losing control of her bowels, leaving embarrassing trails of diarrhea wherever she went. Then there was Tameka Raymond, Usher's wife, whose little weight loss procedure left her overseas getting correctional surgery. And who can forget Dr. West, Kanye's mommy, who's tummy tuck from hell sent her straight to the coffin.
When I was in high school, I remember walking out of the grocery store and being stopped by a random woman who asked me ever so inappropriately, "Girl, why don't you get a gastric?" All I could do was stare. That was back in the day when people's random remarks had the power to render me speechless. Then she goes on to say, "I got some insurance girl, and they are paying for the whole thing. You should look into that." She got really close to me, like it was a big secret. I could not pinpoint what annoyed me more: the fact that she thought I would be interested or the fact that she could not have been more than 30lbs overweight!
As I sit here eating some shrimp with broccoli and fried rice, I think of my married associate who wanted to lose weight in her thirties to enjoy life and become a mother. I wish she was still with us. First, I would ask her her name. Then, I would ask her if, looking back as a weightless angel, she felt the surgery was even worth it. I think we can figure out what her response would be.

The Dying Art of Halloween

I sit here this early Sunday morning, literally up to my expanding waistline in candy wrappers. Last night I went trick or treating with my little brother and sister. We hit up four subdivisions in four hours, and returned home fat and happy with sacks of candy as big as Santa's bag. Ug, it was beautiful.

Halloween is one of my favorite holidays. It is. And it saddens me that every year I see less and less people celebrating it. This year, more houses were dark, alerting treaters that residents of that address were not participating in this fantastical Fall festivity. I want to tell myself that it is because the economy is bad, and folks just don't have the money to be passing out candy to other people's children, but my heart tells me it is because some religious wingnuts think that Halloween is some type of Devil day or something.

I first started hearing this loonie talk when I was in middle school. I took the same set of siblings treating one year, and almost everyone had these notes on their doors saying they were going to celebrate Hallelujah Day, not Halloween, but Hallelujah Day, at some type of church festival or that they did not celebrate it at all and they suggested we go home before the very roof of Hell opened and swallowed us up. Then there was the year that my neighborhood single handily canceled Halloween because it fell on a Sunday. Some people will even make that lame 80s argument that Halloween is dangerous. Seriously, I have not heard anything about folks putting crack in candy since I was five! Sadly, folks just don't have the money to drug our kids like they used to.

Question: How can you not LOVE Halloween? Not even God can be against the little baby cakes dressing up like Spider Man and lady bugs. I saw a giraffe at the grocery store yesterday, and my heart melted. The little girl had a little giraffe booty and tail. It was simply one of the sweetest things I have ever seen! Plus, you get free candy, see other people's costumes, and some people even decorate their houses really cool, making their homes treater friendly.

This year I was also stunned by the disrespect of the holiday by the treaters. They were not following the sacred Halloween rules. For one, you don't bombard homes in groups and catch the resident off guard. That's rude! And you don't go to houses with good candy twice and then get pissy if they remember you and won't give you any candy. You don't bang on doors. You don't ring the doorbell more than once. You don't run across people's lawns and flower beds. You let the younger kids go ahead of you. You wear a costume and YOU MUST, you must, say trick or treat! You don't just stand on someone's porch with your hand out and a mean mug! Sigh...I saw a big disregard for these rules today. I don't know about you, but I blame the parents.

As you probably already figured, I am planning what I am going to be next year. If I can figure out how to make it, I would love to be a seahorse. Oh well, I have a whole year to decide. For now, I shall munch on my six pounds of candy.