Aunty and the Bras

My aunt recently had a minor breast surgery and, as part of her recovery plan, she had to buy these granny bras that clasp in the front. Three days into her recovery she says, "I like these bras! I need to get some more of these!"

I frowned. You gotta see these bras. They only come in two colors: About To Die White and Elderly Tan.

"No you don't! These bras are too old for you!" I cried. "They are for 90-year-old grannies with Arthritis who can't reach their back bra clasps!"

"But they are sooooo cozy!" she said, doing a little spin. 

These bras are as unsexy as they come. They are perfect for the old lady who has confidently given up any type of cuteness for functionality. My aunt is only 60. Today's 60-year-old women are going on cruises, learning line dances, and dating guys half their age, not embracing the bereavement bra. 

Ladies: have you noticed that your commitment to comfort unintentionally correlates to the rate in which your sexy is slipping? I noticed the slip for me in my mid-30s. I didn't feel as pressed to paint my nails or put on lipstick when I went out. What for? By the time Covid had chewed me up and spit me out, I was as concerned with being cute as I was with learning to fly. 

No woman wants to be viewed as ancient and unbangable, but if that's coming down the pipes anyway, why not welcome it in bloomer panties, oversized night shirts, house shoes, hair rollers, and no-bang bras? Ideally, as a woman, you want to hold on to your hot for as long as possible, but if it can't be done, what are you gonna do?🤷 I know what I'm going to eventually do: lounge in my bonnet while I admire my unpainted nails. 

Pressed Record (Another Risky Business Story)

The other night, Risky called me pretty bummed because she found out that an old partner had recorded them being intimate without her consent. She said this, and I gasped. OMG! All of a sudden, it felt like I was in one of those really bad made-for-TV movies. During a conversation, he casually mentioned that he was watching adult content. Then, to follow that up, he smoothly disclosed that said content was a recording of them together that he had taped secretly. He alleged that he had two such videos like this. I couldn't believe what I was hearing! How intrusive! How scary! How...illegal.

"Are you going to press charges? Do you need me to be on the phone while you do it?" I asked. 

She sighed. "To what end? Just because something is bad, that doesn't mean it's illegal."

"No, I disagree. Doing something like this without consent is equivalent to SA (Se*%ual Assault)," I informed her. At least, I think it is. I know that revenge p&%n is illegal, but she doesn't know for sure if he has posted the recordings anywhere. 

"He said that he hasn't posted the videos; that he just looks at them on his phone," she told me, but neither she nor I really knows if that is the case. 

As the conversation went on, she said that before this, there were red flags that she had ignored, like how randomly, in the middle of their situationship, he announced that he had a girlfriend. She also had reason to believe that he had followed her home. This didn't sit well with me, considering the slew of men who have been in the news for doing their partners in. She said that she was ending contact with this guy, and I suggested that the new man be a better-quality dude. Like most of my friends, she settles for off guys that I know she can do better than. She reminded me of something though that I had not taken into account: they all suck. Hopefully, the next guy doesn't suck so much that he would violate my friend's privacy. 

Pretty Works

Oh child, the internets are mad. 

There is this famous social media mental health professional that is now being outed for allegedly not being a mental health professional at all. Allegedly, she can not provide proof of her doctorate after giving relationship advice across numerous platforms and getting a book deal. The people are not amused. Her explanations for not being able to provide proof of her education also are not adding up or landing well. It's a mess! The people have made it clear that they feel played, but I feel that they played themselves. You see, this woman is very attractive, and I think that the people allowed themselves to be finessed because she is easy on the eyes. Now the poop has hit the perpetual fan and everyone wants to cry that they have been bamboozled. But what do you think is going to happen when you allow beauty to be a credential? It's the oldest deal in the books: being pretty ALWAYS works! 

I have experienced this on way smaller scales throughout my life. In highschool, I remember when my homeboy held the school door open for all the pretty girls getting off the bus but let the door slam in my face. In college, I watched in awe as Big Homie Sans gained access to rooms she had no business being in because she is gorgeous and no one asked any questions. On a more personal note, I had an old editor tell me she didn't think I should work red carpet events because I don't have the "Hollywood Look". I guess I wouldn't. I'm from Atlanta🤡 #peaceupatowndown. Because of all of this, I was not at all surprised by the alleged allegations against this mental health professional. I am surprised that people still don't want to admit how much outward appearance means to folks to the point that they could potentially buy whatever anyone hot is selling. 

I guess I am also annoyed because I know if she were not attractive making the same professional claims, America would have ran her background like a marathon. I'm also annoyed that there are probably many confirmed credentialed mental health professionals on social media that will never get this lady's numbers. I mean, this is the case across professions. Could you imagine if the genius, very capable Stacey Abrams looked like Tyra Banks? She'd be governor of Georgia right now! Look at Sheryl Underwood, the accomplished comedian and TV host. She recently participated in a roast for Kevin Hart, and all people could talk about was her late husband's suicide and how ugly they thought she was. They clearly didn't have the same smoke for Regina Hall. 

Things are looking grim for this mental health professional now but remember, she is beautiful. I think everyone will forgive her and she will probably get some new gigs out of this because remember, pretty works.

Young and Fresh

I got to talk to Willa this week! She is a young woman I mentored as a volunteer when she was in middle and high schools. Now, she is a recent college graduate and I couldn't be happier for her! She has some immediate career plans and wants to go to grad school. I'm really excited for her! She told me some hilarious stories about her college experience, and for some reason, her stories made me think of my post-graduate magazine internship supervisor: LD. 

LD could be a lot and, although I think it could be unintentional, could also be cruel, like the time she told me she felt I was full of parasites because of my eating habits. That is a story for another time. Apparently, during our internship interviews, when asked about what we could bring to the magazine, many of us said we thought we could bring a "young and fresh" perspective. Later, after we were well into the internship, something triggered her having a full-on ageist meltdown where she proclaimed something along the lines of "And no one cares about you all being young and fresh! No one's trying to go back there!" Admittedly, I thought I was dealing with a perimenopausal boss who had an ax to grind with young people. However, after talking to Willa, I can honestly say that I don't want to be young and fresh either. 

Willa is amazing, and I am excited for the beautiful things coming her young and fresh way. I do miss the optimism I had during this time. However, I don't miss the insecurities. I am also now fully aware of the hard times that were torpedoing my way while I danced at rooftop parties. Young and Fresh be damned, I am happy to not be there again, even if I'm still healing from some of my young and fresh disappointments. 

When talking to Willa, I made sure I was encouraging. Unlike LD, it was not my goal to make her feel dumb for being young, although my personal experiences tell me that some of her plans needed a bit of polishing. And that's fine, she's got her whole life in front of her. That's the beauty of being young and fresh. 

All The Really Small Things

The world seems to be going loco. I find that when I get stressed about how crazy everything is, I try to focus on the small things. I'm finding that as the cray-cray gets bigger, I'm discovering joy in even the really small things. Thus is the case when you are grasping at straws. 

I got really excited to hear that Tiesha and Lisha got their hair braided. A friend of mine called me from church. I had a chili cheese potato from Wendy's. I received some mail I'd been waiting on. YAY! As life seems to be more and more unfamiliar, it is critical that you keep your eye on the ball...even if the ball seems to be shrinking. 

My grandpa died of a massive heart attack in the mid- to- late '80s at the height of the AIDS and crack crisis. My grandma had to sell her home and prepare to move across the country while having to deal with her moody and emotional grandchild (me!). During this time I recall her being stoked about her soap operas and the song "Don't Worry, Be Happy" by Bobby McFerrin. In our current state of uncertainty, I find myself watching tacky Tubi movies and listening to "North Memphis" by Project Pat. Isn't it beautiful when traditions span generations? 

If you are like me and you are feeling the crush of the times, I encourage you to get big happy about tiny victories. Do a cartwheel when you discover there is one dryer sheet left. Praise God when you see that the milk isn't yet expired. In this day and age, even the mini victories are enormous! 

The Dating Update

My God, men are so boring; boring and gross. I remember how my grandma used to tell me a poem about how little girls were made of sugar and spice and everything nice. If this is true, men must be made of bulls$&t and rotten meat. As I continue to try to find love before I become completely dehydrated, I find myself getting consistently disappointed. All the guys fall into a pattern. They have about two or three good convos in them before they start saying nasty, inappropriate things. Like how they want me to BLEEEEEP on their BLEEEEEPS. That's a pretty common one. There's other stuff too. It's all icky🤢🤮

They say you have to kiss a lot of frogs before you find a prince. Does this adage still apply if you don't want to kiss these guys? God I hope so. Coffee says that guys who behave like this are "low quality men" demonstrating "low quality behaviors". I'd agree! But you can't win the game if you clock out of it, so I must march on, past the bleeps and the BS. Hopefully I won't be the dehydrated icky one once my prince arrives. 

Friending With A Boyfriend Vanisher

One of my good friends is a Boyfriend Vanisher, not that she makes boyfriends vanish but that she vanishes once she gets one. It has been a minute since she's had a serious boyfriend, so I'd forgotten she was a vanisher. However, at 40, I am here to announce that she is just as much one as she was when she was 18 when I met her. 

I'm happy that she is coupled but sad that she is still participating in her vanishing ways. As a serial single person that never had a boyfriend, I just assumed that being coupled was so consuming that you had no choice but to become distant. So, imagine my surprise when I started talking to guys and magically still had time and energy for the people I love; still had interests and other things to talk about. 

Calls from her these days are few and far between and quick. I answer the phone, she asks how I'm doing, I say find whether I am or not, then she proceeds to vomit info about her and her guy. She is in love, so I sit and listen and try to be supportive but sometimes I just want to yell, "There are other things going on!" Other things with her and me and the world. However, the world has gone down and I'm a bummer. I guess becoming obsessed with her relationship is the best bet.  

I hope that she and her guy stand the test of time, not just because she cares for him, but also because her breakups are worse that her relationships. Once she gets dumped or vice versa, I become a one-person jury member, staying on the phone for hours, helping her go over every point of their time together. It's exhausting and overwhelming but hey, what won't one do for a friend? Other than inquire more about her day before going into a diarrhetic speal about your relationship? 

I wanted to call her recently and discuss some pop culture stuff, but I'm mortified shat she will jump into "She and He: the Mini Series". Yikes. I guess her consistent babbling about her and her man is making me vanish. 

Big Rudith Energy

I talked to Rudith this evening. She told me she went to Sephora to get some makeup and asked the saleslady how old she looked. This lady said she thought she was 28 or 32. She said she was going off of Rudith's energy. This made me laugh. This same woman would have probably thought that I was 65. 

The women in my life are moisturized, thriving, and surviving, do you hear me? They are meditating, doing spin class, hiking up stuff, attending screenings and dinners. Their complexions are clear, and their smiles are bright. Outside of the fact that they have obviously taken care of themselves, I do believe that they have the energy that the salelady was talking about. They seem excited, which is a quality that I think SCREAMS youth because when you get older, you realize rather quickly that there is nothing, nothing to be excited about. Sometimes, when I see their energies breaking through my phone screen, I want to roll over and cough. 

Having great energy takes a lot of energy to maintain, and I don't have the energy needed to flip on a light switch. However, if I am going to look 28 at 41, it may be worth a try. After much consideration, I think that I can offer the energy gods a full spin in my driveway before coming back in the house. I will make more of an effort to be chipper. That will include, but is not limited to, not groaning for no reason during phone calls, not getting up and immediately falling into a slouch, and no longer screaming into my pillow for no reason. Can that be enough to be forever young? I am really trying here! Because if I can no longer be young, which is fine, I at least want to look it. 

Free at 44

My friend Katrice is newly divorced and doing pretty well. She has gotten a new job and a new apartment. Her makeup game is on point. She is going out more, hanging out with friends, and meeting new people. I am proud of her! Divorced people will tell you that picking up and moving on after that situation can be hard, emotional, and even traumatic. However, Katrice seems to be moving along just fine. She has made time for reading and taking time for herself. I mean, I wish my everyday letdown was as wonderful as her after divorce glow up!

"So, have you met anyone exciting?" I asked during our weekly weekend call. 

"Nope. I'm done."

I snickered. "Done? So you don't want to be married again? You don't want a partner?"

"Nope," she repeated. "I have loved and have been loved. That is enough for me."

These words have rang in my head since she said them. I am hoping that she isn't serious. I mean, she is only 44! She is too young to be calling it quits! It's funny, I remember being a kid and thinking that 40 was just as bad as being 140. But now that I am over 40, I realize clearly that 40 is nothing. People are living into their 100s! So what, she is going to be 105, not having had a companion in over 60 years?! It would be different if her Black had cracked or if she was bitter, but she is neither of these things. She is a gorgeous, hot, professional lady. How could she commit to calling it quits?

Not too long after I asked myself that question, I answered it. Dating in middle age can be a hot, dramatic mess. Outside of having to compete with younger women, you now are dealing with other singles who too have been kicked down and beat up by life. In her sitting this part of life out, she doesn't have to deal with the inappro-pro pics, lies, reemerging exes, time-wasting. Last time I checked in on her, she was taking in a good novel and drinking a hot beverage. I believe they call that solitude. Doesn't that sound amazing?

I have heard a lot of conservative men online talking about the "Female Loneliness Epidemic". They are excited about it and think that women are getting what they deserve for being picky when they were young. However, these men are confused. I am seeing a lot of middle-aged women who are alone but not lonely. Katrice is always racing off to dinner plans and social events. It's like she put down having a spouse and picked up living her best life! 

Even with this being said and her saying that she plans to kick it solo, I would still like to see her with someone. She is dope and deserves happiness with someone new. It doesn't look like that is coming down the pipeline anytime soon. She is enjoying being free. 

Seeking Charles Christmas 5: Guy Of My Dreams

I know I told you all that I wrapped up my crush on Charles Christmas when I realized we would never be; that I put my love for him in a box and returned him to the world, and I had. But because of him, for the first time in a long time, I woke up with a smile. 

I had a dream that I was on a city bus and Charles Christmas passed me a note expressing his love and desire to buy me nice things. Next thing I know, we are at the mall, and he is getting me expensive gifts. At some point, we end up at the MAC counter where I got a makeover. He then bought me as much lipstick as my arms could carry to the cash register. After that, we walked around the mall holding hands. 

Like I said, I woke up smiling. My heart was full of love. The dream felt very real but I know it wasn't because sadly, there are not hundreds of tubes of MAC lipstick in my purse. I rolled over and went on Instagram to find a story from Charles, posted earlier today. He was at a yoga class. How cute is that? 

I wonder what he'd say if he knew what I think of him? I'd like to believe he'd be flattered but in reality, I think he'd block me from all socials. I'm no dummy. I know he is out of the question for my real life. I guess he is quite literally the guy of my dreams. 

The Price of Greatness

Coffee considers himself a great, "elite" man, and as I get to know him, I have to say that I agree. He is very good at his job and at getting things done. He is really good at identifying a problem and coming up with a "program" to address it and guarantee success. Needless to say, he is a workaholic. He doesn't take vacations and has very little free time. I suppose this is the price of being great. 

Man, when I was a kid, I used to fantasize about how great I would be. I was going to be amazing! Even now, I think about how great it would be if I were great. I think of how much more independent I would be and how much money I would have. One thing I don't want to think about is the amount of work and sacrifice that would go into it. Years ago, I saw a documentary on Kobe Bryant that he did while he was still alive. He said that at night, he would go to the local college campus and see all the kids his age hanging out and having a good time. He thought about how cool it would be not to be famous, and what a time he could be having if he had decided to go to college instead of the NBA. However, he would snap out of this thinking, saying that not being a free and fun college boy was the price he paid for greatness. Hm. 

I guess my price for greatness would be forgoing my never-ending depression and interacting in the world. So, I guess the question is: Is striving to be great a better move than just continuing to withdraw from life? I guess the answer is buried in how much I value money versus how much I love the concrete darkness of continually falling apart. Maybe I should take some more time to think about this. It would be easier to do if I had all the time in the world. Now that would be great. 

The Session

Today, I had my therapy session, and thank God! I had to unload and let someone know how I am honestly feeling. We covered everything, from my being stressed out to my friendships. She said she could tell something was up with me, which was reassuring and more helpful than someone telling me I am acting weird. The session must have been just what I needed because afterwards I took a long, hard nap and for the first time all week, I felt rested. Of all the great things I have ever done, getting a therapist stands out as one of my greatest decisions, and if I were queen of the world, I would make it mandatory that everyone get a therapist. There is nothing like someone with no skin in the game helping you figure things out. I'm really excited for my next session and enjoying some good sleep. 

Moody

P had the nerve to tell me that lately I've been moody. Moody and rude. Well, I'm sorry, but I am beyond over it! Everything has been getting on my nerves of late. I've been beefin' with my brother. I'm always hungry yet losing no weight. Every time I get over one obstacle, I look ahead, and there are ten obstacles left. I'm sleepy. I've had a bad cough. I'm broke. I'm so exhausted and frustrated by my job search that I won't even go into it. I'm concerned about premature aging. I can't seem to drink enough water. I cry at the drop of a hat. I'm scared for the world. My niece now has tantrums that consist of endless screaming. Not crying, screaming. It's all just too much, so yes, I've been a touch snappy. Am I not allowed that? I guess not 🫤

The Praise Rag Story (A Savannah Request)

I have always been a reflective person. The experiences and stories of my life tend to play on a loop in my brain. My friends have often complained about how repetitive I am. So, it is very rare that I share a story with a friend that they have not already heard a thousand times. Imagine my surprise when I discovered that Savannah had never heard the praise rag story. 

When I was a college student in New Orleans, I attended a Full Gospel Baptist Church. This was truly an experience, because I was raised United Methodist, which was comparatively very boring. We didn't wear big hats or dance openly in the aisles. We silently listened to the sermons and sang hymns out of a book. My family was not excited about my attending this church, but it was a fun, lively church, and many college students went there. 

One Sunday, I walked into the church and nearly screamed when an older woman pulled me away from my friends and to the side. I had seen her in church before, but I had no idea who she was. Thinking back on it, she didn't introduce herself. 

"Listen, I am making you a praise rag for you to put over your legs when you sit down," she said. I looked at her questioningly. A praise rag? What the hell was that?! She read my expression and said, "You put it over your legs so that pastor can't see up your skirt when you sit down."

"Okay," I said, just eager to get away from her. I had seen other women wearing these things, but I  didn't know they had a name. They just looked like huge, fancy handkerchiefs. I didn't feel like any of my skirts or dresses were short enough that I would need a praise rag. Anyway, why would pastor be looking up my dress? He was married! 

The next Sunday, the same woman ran up to me as I sat down and placed the heavily embroidered praise rag that she'd made me over my lap before I could even protest. I thanked her, not wanting to be rude because the embroidery on the rag was gorgeous! It had to have taken a lot of time. She never let me take the rag home. She would come get it immediately after services. 

As a college student, I thought this whole situation was funny. As a big-aged adult, the whole thing kind of annoys me. To be clear, I don't think that the pastor was looking up my skirt. But I do wish that the world would stop making women and girls the reason for male sexual misbehavior. Like I said, pastor was married. He was also about thirty years older than me and in a position of power and authority. If he had an issue looking up skirts, shouldn't he be given some praise shades or something instead of me being given a praise rag? Just a question. 

Broke As A Bad Joke

Risky Business has fallen on some hard times since she had to leave her residency program. She is living with her parents, and money has gotten pretty tight. That's okay because she has come up with a no-fail financial plan: donating plasma. I am so jealous! If it weren't for the medication that I am on, I would be at the donation center now! 

Most people think that being broke is just being broke; a period of time when a person has to deal with strained resources and/or little to no money. However, the average person may not be broke enough to know that there are levels to brokeness. There is the general not having money and waiting on money to come in level, and there is the level where you have to get really creative, really quickly, or you are going to cross over into a dire situation. This is where a lot of people land in brokeness. Then, of course, there are those who have absolutely no loot to fall back on, their plans didn't work out, and they end up being homeless. That is when a broke person officially crosses over to being poor. Poor is hard. Really hard. 

So, like most women out in the world today who need dough, Risky is getting creative, and I admire her giddy-up. Other friends are offering freelance services, driving for ride shares, pawning their goods, or relying on a boyfriend. Some have resorted to stripping, OnlyFans, or some other pay-for-play service. Again, I salute these people! I have nothing to offer for quick cash, which may be the root of my real problems in real life. I would start a lemonade stand, but lemons have gotten pricey. 

Late last year, I was on a call with many of my old college friends. It was a call solidifying the committee for our reunion year. Part of the discussion was about our class gift and what our fundraising goal was going to be. Someone on the call suggested that there were some of us who could afford to donate $24K. I put myself on mute and laughed. Twenty-four thousand American dollars?! If I had that kind of money, I would withdraw half of it and roll around in it on my bedroom floor naked. Then I would begin to pay off my bills, starting with the ones that used the most threatening language in their letters. 24K. Get out of here! 

Coffee often says that I can work hard or find a man who does. Sadly, I don't think that is my lot in life. I think I am totally a plasma type of girl. However, we discussed that isn't an option for me. Are people willing to pay money for other people's failed dreams or bad jokes?

The Worst Block Spin Ever

One of my good girlfriends from high school casually told me during our last conversation that she is currently seeing her old boyfriend from back in the day, when things were NOT cool. He used to hit her, and I was beyond joyous when she finally dropped him. To hear that, after over 20 years, they are dating again made me so sick that I literally almost threw up. I thought that this guy was effectively exercised from her life years ago, only to find out that they have always kind of kept in touch. Now, he has somehow slithered his way back into the picture, and I am not excited about it at. all. I don't like him. 

"You don't know him," she said when I told her as much.  "You only know the him that I told you about. We were kids, and I did a lot of bad stuff too."

She then began to discuss his journey to healing and manhood and how he is so cool, calm, and collected now. He was abusive because that is what he saw growing up. After years of therapy, he now knows how to communicate. They have even already had their first argument, and no one got slapped. He is not the same guy that he was when he was a "kid". 

It was hard for me to not scream! Part of the reason why this whole thing sounds outrageous to me is because I guess I don't believe that people can fully change. The base of who you are is what it is going to be as soon as you get here. All other changes are surface-level, according to me. So when she tells me that this guy has changed, I not only can't believe it, I don't believe that it is legitimately possible, but she does. Also, I know that they say that by middle age, you have probably dated or met your forever person already. And that's fine if that's true, but could the universe make sure that the block spin doesn't stop at the doorstep of someone who caused you dramatic trauma and pain? I'm also annoyed with myself because I am supposed to believe that all change is possible through Christ Jesus. Watch me give myself the side eye 😒 Years of watching Lifetime movies has shown me otherwise. 

We pretty much agreed to disagree on whether or not this is a good idea, and I let her know as calmly and diplomatically as possible that I am not here for this but I am here for her. Men are in the news straight up unaliving their partners.  This is serious! Serious and unreal. 

Do Better Holly

One of my friends recently had a come-to-Jesus talk with me about how she feels that I am not there for her in the way that she is there for me. She feels that I am not present. Things have been so hectic lately that I forgot to wish my other friend a happy birthday. I can be so high and mighty about how my friends show up for me, yet lately, I have been the one clearly dropping the ball, big time. 

"Do better, Holly," my friend Cali said to me as I complained about this; a simple, obvious solution for a huge problem. She is right. I do need to do better. But how do you do better when you hardly have the energy to do anything? I am so exhausted that you'd think that I wake up every morning at the crack of dawn and sprint around my neighborhood. To be clear, I do not. I just lounge around like an obese house cat, groaning at the thought of all the work that I have to do to improve my life. When I was a kid, I used to fantasize about what it would be like to open my door and receive a huge million-dollar check from Ed McMahon. Although Ed went on to glory in 2009, it would be great if he could come back to life and to my door to bring me an energy drink and supplements. Maybe he could bring me a really strong coffee with two shots of confidence and a dollop of drive. 

Today, I have so much to do that I have nothing to do. But one thing I must do, other than get my life together, is check in on the people who care about me. No matter how broke, sad, depressed, alone, tired, aggravated, irritated, sleepy, and overwhelmed I am, I can not screw up my remaining friendships. I refuse to become the friend that I often complain about, and I am committed to being better...after I wake up from a nap. 

Cost Calculating

It's funny how your opinions change as you get older. 

One of the reasons I loved college is because it felt like being immersed in an oasis of thoughts and opinions. The world was new to me and everyone around me, and it was awesome to express how I was feeling while hearing how everyone else felt. It was a beautiful time. I was young and open to changing and sharpening what I felt were my beliefs. I recall being in the cafeteria one day and sitting at a table with all girls, and one of the girls said that she would never leave her husband simply because he cheated on her. I know that is a heavy remark to make at 18 or 19 years old, but the mere statement enraged me! How could a girl that young already be okay with taking on that amount of disrespect?

Just the other night, I had a conversation with Coffee, and he expressed something similar but from a male perspective. He said that a woman who leaves a man because he stepped out of the marriage for sex is only doing so because of her ego, especially if she has kids. He said that women need to stop thinking of cheating as some big deal because it is not, especially if the man does not want to abandon his family. He said that women who get divorced after cheating usually demote themselves to a lesser quality of life, having to leave their previous lifestyles, catapulting their children into poverty. How selfish. 

Hearing this, I was as irritated as I was over 20 years ago with that girl in the cafeteria. However, as someone who is far from rich, I had to really think through the situation. If I had a good life, how upset would I have to be to leave it? What is the real cost of walking away with your dignity, and is it worth it if this dignity is now accompanied by struggle and strife? If I were coupled now, and my man slept with someone else, I would be devastated. DEVASTATED! But would I be devastated enough to forego my nice home and access to money? I guess the question is, how much is your comfort, dignity, and quality of life really worth? What woman wants to get out and hustle in middle age?

"Tell Coffee he can shut the f*^k up!" Lisha exclaimed when I posed this question to her. I explained to her how Coffee expressed that, ideally, a woman in this situation should kick a man out of the house until he is ready to come home and take their life seriously. "A woman doing that doesn't mean he is going to continue covering the expenses of a house he is not living in, kids or no kids."

It is easy to have an opinion on a situation that has never happened to you. I have a lot of thoughts on marriage, but I am not married and never have been. I am a woman, though, an emotional woman at that, so I can only imagine how hard infidelity must be. I guess the difference between me now and teen me in college is that I better understand how 3-dimensional life can be. Everything isn't black or white or even gray. Somethings are purple, and require you to really, really ponder on them before making a decision. I'm glad I have never been in this position and hope that I never am. I have never been good at calculating costs. 

Family No Fair

Today, I got into a huge argument with my brother. We are six years apart. At what age is this nonsense supposed to end? And to think, I was super excited when he was born. Now, all he does is yell, complain, mope, and bark. I guess this argument was all my fault for not allowing him to strong-arm and overrun a conversation he was not even a part of. I will not be bullied by my kid brother. My bad. 

Family, am I right? When I used to get into tween spats with my mom, my grandma would say, "Well, you don't get to choose your family." I'm not so sure. I have heard that there are cultures that believe that the spirits of babies choose their parents or that the family you are born into is all a part of some type of divine plan. This evening, I wanted to dropkick my brother. How's that for divinity?

My mom had four siblings, and now three of them are gone, including her. I know the importance of valuing your brothers and sisters better than the average Joe. I know a lot of people who are only children, so I also know how lucky I am to have brothers and sisters. I love and appreciate them. That doesn't mean that I don't often fantasize about stomping on my brother's foot. He thinks I don't hear him, and I know he doesn't hear me. At times, he can be truly unbearable. I didn't choose him, so I guess I should just love him, even though that is easier said than done, and I would much rather love to elbow him in the ear. Little brothers, am I right?