Seeking Charles Christmas 4: A Crush No More

I'm sad to report that my secret obvious love for Charles Christmas is no more. The thrill is gone. The fantasy is broken. 

Last night, I was scrolling on social media and came across the profile of a girl we will call Lizzy. It looks like she is a fitness/bikini/foodie influencer. She is petite with an impossibly small waist and a full, perfect booty. She is very pretty and has a lot of hair. Much of her content includes her crossing intersections with a close-up on her jiggling behind, and it looks like Charles Christmas has liked a number of her posts. Talk about getting a needle stuck in your balloon. 

Part of having a good crush is the dream ( or possibly the delusion) that you and the other person could one day be together. That hope was dashed today when I saw his manic liking of a good deal of this girl's posts. She is clearly the type of woman he would be in to. They are both incredibly fit. I could see her loving his crazy gym where people bear crawl across the floor and run with weights on their backs. 

"He may have liked her posts because he knows her," Lisha offered. Possibly. Or, more likely, I simply witnessed a case of like attracting like. As much of a hater as I want to be, it does make more sense that he would be into a woman that meal preps and works out daily. 

With that being said, I must bid ado to Charles Christmas. I'm hurt I'm not his type, but what can anyone do about that? I will continue to watch the videos of him pumping iron though. I don't have to have abs and a good weave to do that. 

Seeking Charles Christmas

When I was in the eighth grade, I had a major crush on my good friend Patty's boyfriend. I know, scandalous. His name was Charles Christmas, and he was the cutest little blerd that you ever did see. He had chocolate skin and glasses and wore polos and khakis. He was annoying as most boys are at that age, but I remember thinking that he was super smart and handsome. I like-ed him for real, for real, but had to keep it under my hat because I didn't want to be a bad friend to Patty, and I was in a relationship with a boy who, in another year, would come out as gay.

I lost touch with him after middle school, except for one conversation when I was on a college break. I saw him out some place. He gave me his number, and I called him. He was pretty rude, which was not how I remembered him to be. I found this to be very disappointing, especially since he was even cuter. Unfortunately, he had traded in his polos for tall tees. I don't know why people can't be themselves. 

About a month ago, I went on Facebook and saw that he had posted a video of himself working out really hard, which, of course, led me to do a deep dive. It looks like he does something having to do with real estate. He works out a lot, and he has a daughter. He must make good money because his pictures indicate that he has traveled the world from corner to corner. However, he is hardly ever with anybody. He seems pretty lonely. Tiesh reminded me that someone has to be taking the pictures on his vacations. I imagine this could possibly be a sexy, equally fit girl. Yet he looks and feels pretty single. He is bald now and has a super hot salt and pepper beard. If he truly is single, I am not sure why. 

Studying his pictures on Facebook makes me think about the movie Our Souls at Night with Jane Fonda and Robert Redford. In the movie, Jane asks if Robert would spend the night with her so that she wouldn't feel so lonely at night, and that blossoms into a love affair. I say that to say that a guy I met last year told me that I need to learn how to straight-up ask for what I want. Hm. I thought about what would possibly happen if I asked Charlie to talk to me three times a week on the phone. This would put a masculine presence in my life and give my friends a break from me. I don't think that we would fall in love, but this would add a spice to my life. 

As you have probably guessed, I am really nervous to put myself out there like this. What if he makes a Facebook post about how desperate I am and tags everyone we went to school with, including Patty?! I would be mortified! Or he could give a simple no. Or he could say yes. Or he could not answer. As the guy who I met last year had warned, you don't get anywhere being scared. I will let you all know if I get some guts to reach out anytime soon. 

Homecoming Post 1: The Legend of Sphinxie van No-Step

I am not going to lie: On Saturday, by the time I got to the homecoming tailgate, I was in a bit of a mood. I was hangry, my feet were hurting, and I could use a 6-hour nap. I also had on a jacket, and it was unexpectedly HOT. It was the type of heat that makes your eyeballs smoggy.

Why am I here? I asked myself, looking around at the boatloads of people that didn't seem to feel like they were in the devil's mouth. Even my aunty seemed oblivious, eagerly walking from tent to tent. I gotta go, I said to myself, turning on my heels. No sooner did I do that did I run into one of my favorite Alphas: Captain Morgan. This was interesting because the last time I remember seeing him was at my 10-year reunion. I walked over to give him a hug and he pulled me close whispering in my ear, "Don't say anything about the naked picture. My wife is here." That's a story for another time. He had also almost killed me three times in my early 20s. That's another-nother story for another-nother time. I'm not sure if his wife was there yesterday. The last person I remember him dating was that itsy-bitsy Miss Xavier with the big butt and smart mouth. We caught up for a hot second and he gave me a sweaty, alcoholy hug. God, his body felt strong. If my aunty had not come back over, I swear I would have bitten his neck. And if that would have happened, I'd be writing this from a self-imposed, overseas exile.

Once our convo was over, I told my aunty that I was ready to go. I was supposed to meet some people out there; however, being out there felt unbearable. So, I walked around a sea of middle-aged AKAs trying to do the latest line dance when I saw him: Sphinxie van No-Step!

No way! I said to myself. I swear to you, I manifested him! 

You see, my ability to develop a crush on Xavier men that have no idea who I am is legendary. I wish I could say that it was different with Sphinxie. Just recently, his picture had been posted on my friend's IG page and I messaged my friend Bell's hysterically. It's Sphinxie van No Step! I cried through the message. She replied quickly not missing a beat: My God! That brotha could not step. 

Until I saw him attempt to step, I had no idea that you could be Greek and not know how to. I figured if you didn't know how, you would be taught how. If this is the case, somehow Sphinxie slipped through the cracks. I stood in front of the University Center once and saw him and his line brothers performing in the tiny parking lot across the street from my dorm before a bunch of AKAs and doting girls. I mean, I was speechless. Never had I seen such jolty, uncoordinated movements in my life! With 50 AKAs clapping a rhythm to his ankles, he just couldn't get it. It looked like he was doing some ritualistic tribal dance. Aw, he's awkward, I thought, which made my heart smile. And you all know that once my heart starts smiling...

Then I got to know him briefly as the president of the NAACP. Little Miss Texas had invited me to a meeting only after explaining that I was not to humiliate her in any way. And I sat in that meeting watching him whisper in front of the classroom that he wanted everyone to quiet down so the meeting could start. No one was paying attention! Everyone was laughing and talking. I'm not even sure if they noticed him up there. Aw, he's soft spoken, I thought. Insert heart smile. Inevitably, Busty O'LoudMouth  busted into the room and yelled, "Hey, shut the hell up! Don't you see President Sphinxie is trying to start the meeting?!" It was so quiet you could hear a pen drop. 

My last crushable memory of Sphinxie was on a random New Orleans day. I remember thinking that if I had known I was going to run into him head-on, I wouldn't have dressed like an art teacher in a women's jail! I used to love tall tees and baggy jeans because I thought the look made me look thinner. It didn't. He looked up at me with those EYES, smiled with those TEETH, and waved. And I over-waved because I was probably more awkward than him! Aw, he's nice, I said, skipping to class. Heart Smile.

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. 

Love and Middle Age 3: The Story of Stupid

In my recent conversations with TAFKAS, he told me stories of his friends and their unrequited loves. And the message that I took from these stories is that you should let people know how you feel when you have the chance. This is a very, very dangerous message for me because I just might do it which, in my case, is the easiest, quickest, safest way to embarrass myself. 

When I was in college, I had a crush on this basketball player and literally wrote him a 4-page letter and enclosed it with a kiss. Well, I didn't actually kiss it. My friend AJ did because my lips were chapped. I then doused the letter in Victoria's Secret body spray before putting the letter on this windshield. Luckily, God woke me up in a panic the next morning and I was able to run outside and retrieve it. THANK GOD! If he would have gotten that letter I have no doubt that he would have HUMILIATED ME! I would have had to move back to Atlanta and live under an alias. 

Then there was the Sigma that I wrote an erotic poem for. I read the poem to a couple of my co-workers and they gave me positive feedback which should have been my first clue that I was spearheading into a no-bueno situation. Luckily, Tortilla was there to bring me back to life, back to reality. "Don't message this to him. Don't," she said in a very stern voice which was odd, because her voice is usually so sweet that it sometimes sounds like she is singing when she talks. "If you ever get the urge to send this to him, send it to me, and I will respond like I am him, okay? Promise?" I promised, and again thanked God for having good friends. 

And then there are these two men at my church, I will call them Thing 1 and Thing 2. The Things are so nice to me and they love God and they are both hot in their own way. When I talk to them it is very, very difficult not to kiss them. This should tell you how hard I am crushin', because I think that kissing is disgusting! "Don't kiss him", my friend Ken said about one of the guys. I didn't tell her about the other one because I assumed the response would be the same. Again, thank God for good friends. 

But of late, I have been depressed, hungry, tired, sad, alone, and feeling like I am on an island. All of these things are the recipe for me doing something potentially stupid. I mean 4-page letter kind of stupid. Today I fell asleep while I was working and dreamed that I was making out with new crush (Do you see how kissing of some sort is usually the foreshadowing to these crises?) at my dead Great-Grandmother's house. It felt like I was really there! Family Matters was on the TV. Nana loved that show! This is not good because I believe that dreams have meaning...I am just not equipped to tell you what they are. If I had to guess what this dream was telling me, it would be that my deceased Great-Grandma was on board with me reaching out to this man that I don't really know and who doesn't know me. My inner me, which is consistently wrong, is telling me to reach out to him. 

Y'ALL PLEASE PRAY THAT I CAN MAKE IT TO THERAPY NEXT WEEK WITHOUT MAKING A COMPLETE ASS OF MYSELF!! If I can't get a grip, I will become one of TAFKAS's tragic stories. I am well on my way. 

Homecoming Post 3: The Mystery of Alderado Avacado

Whenever I get a call from Lady Chatsalot, I know that I am going to laugh my keister off. That, and get served a cup of piping hot tea! Lady Chatsalot is one of those girls that I knew in school, but we didn't get to really know each other until we graduated. She always has her finger on the pulse of what is going on with everything and everyone. And she is hilarious! 

"Oh girl, guess who I saw at the club!" she said, shaking her head into her computer camera. 

"Who?!" I asked. 

"Alderado Avacado!"

I thought about it for a moment before jumping out of my skin. "Do you mean -----?!"

She nodded. "Yes, girl!"

"What was he doing at the club?"

"I don't know, but when I talked to him, he said that I would probably be seeing more of him out and about."

"Girl, shut up! Does that mean that he isn't with Splitz anymore?"

"I don't know."

In college, I was so far out of Alderado Avacado's league that I don't think he knew who I was! He was just so handsome and charming and very much with Splitz, one of those girls that is so hot that you know that even in her 80s she is going to be fine! I saw him at the 10-year reunion at the club. I looked up and he was right beside me and I said, "-----!" He looked down and smiled, that million-dollar pearly white smile. God! What a dream boat!

We must have talked him up, because at the tailgate, while I was chatting with someone, I noticed two of the girls at the tent freeze. 

"What is going on?" I asked Sweets, one of my favorite girls from college. 

"Girl, Alderado Avacado just passed by."

  Again, I needed a minute. It is always weird to hear him referred to by his real name. "You mean -----?!"

She nodded with a smile. I mean, all the girls were crazy about this guy! 

"I don't know if he is divorced, but he is always in Cutie's face," Savannah said a couple of days later when I brought it up. Hmmm. So he is divorced, right? Maybe?

Let's be clear, I have no chance of ever getting with Alderado Avacado if he's divorced. For me, he is kind of like the lottery: I have no intention of playing, but I will tune in to the news to see what the jackpot is. And let's be clear, he is a jackpot. During the drive back to Atlanta, I wondered what it must be like to be wanted like that and know it! The things I could do with that type of power! I definitely wouldn't be paying my own bills, that's for damn sure. 

As for the status of Alderado Avacado, it is still a mystery, but the blood is in the water and the sharks are very much circlinng. But Splitz doesn't have to worry about me. I cain't swim. 

Hurt Feelings

For about a week, I had a crush on a dude named Jackson that I went to college with. I thought he was cute even then, but I was a freshman and he was a senior. To say that we ran in different circles is an understatement. 

These days, Jackson is more of a computer love. I pretty much stalk him on Facebook. At almost 40, he spends his days making sexest and socially irresponsible posts, that is, when he isn't posting videos of Instagram models twerking in bathing suits. I can't say that Jackson is likable because he isn't really. Ladies you know what he is: he is that guy that you can't stand that just happens to be hot. But of late, I have felt kind of numb to the world, so having a crush felt nice. Something about liking someone makes your heart feel full. 

But all things have to come to an end. My crush was coming to a slow down just two days in when he made some ridiculous, double standarded (new word) posts about female sexuality. He is the type of guy that places unrealistic and unfair purity standards on women while he slides in DMs and most likely sleeps with anyone who will give him the time of day. I know, sexy. 

I was talking to P about his crazy posts today and P goes, "I remember this guy. I was eating lunch at his table once while we were in school and you walked into the cafe and he called you a fat bitch."

Just as he said this, it sounded like a car was crashing in my ears, and I got a weird feeling in my chest. It didn't alarm me as random chest pains often do because I remembered the feeling. I hadn't felt it in a while but it was very familiar: my feelings were hurt. 

I got off the phone and took a two hour nap so that I wouldn't cry and woke up to a text from P. He apologized for telling me. I said it was cool. I mean what can I do? Go on FB and curse Jackson out for something he said about me when I was 18? That would be silly. Yet, as old as the remark is, it still hurt my feelings. 

Relationship Energy

So I was talking to a girl I went to college with last week, and as with most of my conversations with women in my life over 30, we discussed being single. Why are we single? What are we doing wrong? Why are men horrible? Are we ever going to get married? Should we just give up? You know, the typical panicked woman over 30 questions.
In this conversation, my friend tossed up a lot of reasons why she could be single. But what she didn't mention is what came through loud in clear through the convo without her knowing it: she still has a crush on her college crush. And you know who the college crush is: the man you had such an amazing chemistry with that you and everyone else but the crush thought you were going to marry. I know first hand that these crushes are hard to ditch. I had a laundry list of them until I was forced to abandon them. I mean, I really had no choice once the dudes got married.
Are you someone that believes in energy? After hanging up with my friend I came up with a reason why she may be single that was not thrown out during the call: perhaps she is still so emotionally connected and invested in this crush that she is giving off the energy that she is in a relationship to single guys.
"That's not it," P said when I ran the theory past him. "Men don't even think like that. Single men try to get with women whether their energy is telling them that that woman is with someone or not!"
I'm not so sure. I can't see a man that is serious about relationships and the prospect of getting married wasting time on a woman who was giving off the energy that she is with or in love with someone else.
So how do we cleanse ourselves of this "with someone but we're not" energy? Child, this is the million dollar question. The simple yet not so easy answer would be to just move on. Maybe get some of those energy crystals that everyone is talking about. All I know is that no one can occupy a space that someone else is already in.

The End of Third Ryan

It is now fall. My lukewarm hot girl summer has come to an official end along with my pointless, going-nowhere crush on Third Ryan. You remember him? The nice guy from my writing group? Well, he has a crush on one of my good friends and that is simply a road I would rather not go down again. I've been going down it since the 6th grade afterall.

I am so, so tired of investing in the time needed to get to know men who aren't interested. I mean truly, I am exhausted. I could fall asleep right now while typing this post! And what I am even more tired of than that is the unhealthy way that I deal with unrequited love. I don't pray it away or dance it away like Solange. No. I transfer it away to another unavailable man like a loser. 

So, once Third Ryan casually proclaimed his love for my friend during a cute conversation that I had thought was otherwise going well, I decided to start the transference process. Sadly, I decided to transfer it to another man in writing group, Jack. Jack is annoying but hot. To even my own surprise I could not sustain the crush, so I transfered my now two-times-over RyanJack love to a man named MaxTheBody, a male bodybuilder that I found during a thirst search on Instagram. My crush on him will end soon enough, just like my crushes on that IG male dancer and the IG fetish trainer that makes adult movies with his wife. 

Not too long ago, someone asked me if I never found love, would God be enough. I originally said no, but I am parachuting towards 40 at a speed you won't believe. I don't think I have a choice! Hopefully God likes long hugs and slow dancing to 90s R&B. I have always wanted a boyfriend that could do a box step to Forever My Lady by Jodeci. 

Unrequited Imaginary Love

Franklin is a young man in my writer's group. He is about 10 years younger than me. That should be the end of the story. But, and this is all my fault, I was overly nice to him a couple of meetings ago. Now he thinks I like him. His whole attitude towards me has changed. He now gives me stiff side hugs, calls me ma'am, and avoids me during the after-meeting refreshments. Feel free to roll your eyes. 

At first, I thought that this was funny, seeing that I am not interested in him.  I thought that everyone in the group knew that I have a huge, embarrassing crush on Ryan, the silver fox that cuts his convos with me short after group to get to the last of the Oreos before Pregnant Patty gets herself out of her seat to ambush the cookies. Now I am a little offended. 

This is not the first time that a guy has thought that I had a crush on him and decided to send me signals that he was not interested as to not hurt my feelings. These signals include but are not limited to: only talking to me in a group, switching from hugs to handshakes, repeatedly letting me know that he has a girlfriend, or even ignoring me altogether. Many times I was not interested in these guys. And it has always been amazing, and hurtful, to see the lengths that these guys would go to let it be known that they are not interested just in case. 

Okay, so I am fat, unemployed, and living with my aunt with a credit score that is in the toilet. I am also hilarious and have a great head of hair! Does that count for nothing these days?

A part of me doesn't want to go back to writer's group, wanting to avoid the scene that is inevitably going to come from this. Another part of me wants to kick Franklin in his balls and tell him to get over himself. I will let you know which way I decide to go. 

Hershey's Kiss of Death

I got the most inspirational call the other night from one of my oldest friends, Julia. I mean oldest literally. She is in her late-60s.
She called me to update me on a mild romantic saga she had been engaged in the last time we spoke. She is a little in love with an international playboy that she met through her job. During their last meeting, he told her how much he enjoyed American candy, particularly Hershey's Kisses. She then did something that I know for sure that none of my 30-something friends would have had the guts to do: she sent a box of $300 worth of chocolate kisses to Africa!
"What?" I asked. I had been lying down and sat straight up. Talk about a bold move! Not only was she opening the door for him to think she was nuts, but the shipping from Atlanta to Ethiopia had to have been steep!
Once he received the box, he wrote her a handwritten, heartfelt letter about how he loved the candy and thought it was the nicest jester.
This story was amazing to me. Out of all of the relationship rules, I would have thought that sending a man an unsolicited box of candy overseas would be the Hershey Kiss of death! It's such an honest, heart-on-your-sleeve move.
I don't have that much dating experience, but from what I have seen and experienced, honesty has always been treated like the enemy of love. You can't tell a guy you love him first. That is the cardinal rule. You have to look unbothered when you see your ex with his new girl, even when you want to cry.
However, I was feeling inspired by Julia and her huge set of lady balls. It made me want to slide into the DM of my Sigma crush. Let's call him Blue Wave.
A couple of years ago I wrote him a poem. I read it to Gia Tortilla and she told me this exactly, "Don't ever send this to him. Ever. When you feel like you want to, send it to me and I will respond like I am him."
But if Julia has taught us anything, it's that honesty could, in fact, be the best policy. Late one night, I sat in the dark and began to type a line of the poem:

Asked the vixen of her prey:

Where do you want me to 

touch you?

Said the prey to the vixen:

touch me where you touch yourself. 

I could hear Gia Tortilla screaming in my ear, so I erased the message immediately. I am not nearly as brave as Julia. Plus, I wasn't sure how Blue Wave would feel about my little poem. It's way too honest. 

Church and the Broken Vagina

Going to church on a regular basis has broken my vagina. At the very least, it has essentially depleted my sex drive, and at the most, has catapulted me into early spinsterhood. I was alarmed by this at first, but Tasia assures me that this is the effect that church should have on you.
"Yeah, that sounds about right," she said over brunch. "How did you not know that that is what church does to you?"
Uh...because no one told me!
As you know, I am a girl that loves to have a crush on somebody. It has always been fun for me to have little secret crushes on men. This has helped my heart to fill full during the lonely times and given me a good list of people to stalk on Instagram. Now when I look at pictures of these crushes, I feel nothing in my lady parts. All I see are brown faces of boys that I once went to school with. My jay-jay is unimpressed.
I want to get to know God. I want to become a better Christian. But no one told me that that would include me putting my vagina on the shelf with an Out of Order sign taped to it!
It is my belief that there's a science to this whole thing. Once I started going to church, my heart started to change. I began to allow the word of God to cleanse it, purging it of lust. Well, everyone knows that your heart and your lady parts are connected. You see, my heart is trying to do better now. But since my vagina truly doesn't know how to do better, it just shut down completely. She is a team player, and she wants my heart to win. So she took one for the team and is now on vaykay for God knows how long. I hope she comes back soon, I miss her.
Her hiatus has shown me that I was giving her a little too much power in my life, allowing her to take the wheel. I think that I have a crush on a man that I met at church, but I can't tell you. My vag is giving me cold silence. My mind should be able to tell me what's up, but it can't. I see now that this whole time, my mind has been in my undies. Not cool.
The plus side is that now that I am no longer fantasizing about running away with that boy from my old sociology class, I now have more time to pray and read my Bible. I guess my vaginal breakdown was all a part of God's plan. Man, He works in mysterious ways.

Homecoming Post 6: Kappa Krush pt. 1

I don't know what you were doing in college, but I was pretending to study, looking for anyone, ANYONE, to do my hair, and nursing crushes on numerous young men that had no idea who I was. The list of loves was so long that I couldn't even keep track. It didn't take much to get added to the list either. A guy could have brushed past me in the bookstore, looked at me briefly on his way to looking at someone else. Guys would fall off. Guys would would get added. I mean, it was really unreal. I remember all of their faces, some of their names. But no crush is as clear in my mind as the crush I had on Kappa Krush.
Like most guys on campus, I had no idea who Kappa Krush was until he crossed. I had seen him around, but he was pretty unremarkable. I had taken note that he was taller than me, but other than that, he was not on my radar. And then came the Neophyte Show. I sat on the bottom bleacher on the right side of The Barn with the homies, enjoying the show. But when it was time for The Kappas to come out I sat back and yawned. Never been a Kappa fan. I found them ALL to be irritating, and I was not surprised that they were crossing literally every boy that had irritated me since I had arrived on the campus...except the tall boy.
"Hey, it's the tall boy," I told my friend. I remember thinking that it was stupid that they put a disguise on him because it was so obvious who he was. And after he took off his mask, I watched him adorably fumble through their entire routine. The boy was tone death. A fact that I knew he knew because I could see him counting his steps as he did them. How sweet! Nerdy things like that will get you added to the crush list...
I told friends that I had a crush on this guy, and they didn't play along with it like they did with my other fly-by-night crushes. They all gave me very, VERY negative feedback. I think that they were afraid that if they didn't bash him, I may do something stupid, like tell him. These were the same friends that had witnessed the nightmare that was me writing basketball player Tim Green a literal four-page love letter, spraying it with Victoria Secret body spray, sealing it with an ACTUAL KISS, and putting it on the windshield of his truck. Luckily it was retrieved and he never knew about it. I was warned that if I so much as hinted at this crush as I had with Tim, I would be publicly humiliated by ALL of the Kappas- the bald one, that one that sang, the one that dated the AKA, the one with the big eyes, the one who wore the shades, the one with the green eyes. ALL. OF. THEM. I didn't put it passed a boy to be mean to me. Just that last year I had been attacked by the entire basketball team (a post for another day)!
But then I had an interaction with Kappa Krush.
I was in the bookstore with my bisexual homegirl and we were standing behind him in the checkout line. She was going on and on about a girl that wouldn't get the point about their relationship being over.
"I don't get it," she said. "She won't leave me alone."
"Please. You used that girl like a moist towelette," I said, rolling my eyes.
Kappa Krush turned around and laughed. "That's a new one," he said, then went on to ring up his stuff. I could feel my friend tense up. She knew he was on the list and how little it took for me to go overboard.
"Do we need to talk about that?" she asked as we left the bookstore.
"About what?" I asked while thinking, About the fact that we're getting married?! I literally skipped back to the dorm, happy that Kappa Krush, as I had suspected, wasn't a complete douche like the other ones. He was nice!
Now, fast forward to last week at the homecoming tailgate and what would become the end of my 13-year delusion.

Thou Shall Not Text

When I was younger, I saw the Behind The Music of The Go-Gos. You know, the 80s group that sang "We've Got The Beat"? Well, even though they were really cute, most of the girls in the group were on coke really heavy, and one of them was addicted to heroin. She fell in love, went to rehab, and she said that first weekend that she was home she prayed the whole time. So hard, in fact, that her knuckles turned white. She was pleading with God to help her keep it together so that she wouldn't use. After that weekend she said that she never had a desire to use again. I liken the way she must have felt that weekend to how I felt yesterday trying my HARDEST not to text Faux-Mega.
Texting him would have been a bad idea for a shitload of reasons. One being that I already texted him last week, he should text me so I don't look as desperate as I feel. Second, I don't think he's meant to be in life. Texting him would have been a clear reaction of my hormones. And third, waiting for him to text me would have literally driven me mad!
But that doesn't mean that I didn't want a text from him though. I swear guys, I stared at that phone. I prayed over that phone. I did an Indian rain dance around the phone. I went through my messages and made sure I didn't overlook one.
I found myself pulling a Go-Go and just begging God to dismiss the urge to contact him from my system. I feel that God agreed that the whole sitch was a mess, and that I needed to just throw in the towel. So God, being the peach that He is, occupied my time by allowing me to talk to other friends.
The only difference between me and the Go-Go girl is that when the worst was over, I still kind of wanted to text him. This just proves my unwritten theory that heroin is easier to kick than a crush.

Dial Me ATT

So my Internet was on the fritz and the ATT man had to come out. Can I just say that he was FINE! He was just such a...man, you know? Like he was tall and big and buff and brown and FINE!
It was so embarrassing because the first time he came to my house to do repairs, my roommate and I looked like trash, still in our night clothes looking a hot mess. He was supposed to come yesterday and didn't. He left a message on my voicemail and immediately called back.
"My damn phone died yesterday, but I am coming over there to get you set up. Let's do the damn thang."
Yes...lets.
Today, I was prepped for his visit, showered, dressed in a dress with afro picked.
As he sat at my computer, doing whatever computer dudes do, I just sat and stared at him, licking my lips. He was just TOO FINE! Watching him looking all good, I just wanted to get up and kiss and am rub his shoulders and all of that good stuff. I wanted to start a witty conversation, but couldn't. I got all shy and such and couldn't say much, other than, "Thank you for coming out!" I don't feel like he was interested, but he did wave my repair fees. I guess I should just cut my losses, but I'm holding on to his business card. Perhaps I can mold him into a phone cake buddy.

Mental Crush

I find that when I am in a not so desirable place in my life, I develop crushes to take my mind off of my crap. Seeing that I am no longer in college and don't know very many men, you would think that this is hard for me. Wrong! I just dig in my undergraduate memory banks and find one.
So who is my new mental crush? A boy I could not stand from college that I have not spoken to in three years. I don't even think he is one of my Facebook buddies, and surprise surprise, he is like one of Ps best friends.
I could not stand this guy. He was so macho, it was suffocating. But he was very good looking. Very. Classically handsome, but this was usually clouded by his miserable attitude towards women.
So now, this dude that I pretty much do not know is popping up in my thoughts and fantasies. I need a new crush, preferable one that is tangible.

Random African Dude

I have to type this quick because I don't want the random African dude beside me to see this but he smells so amazing I am totally intoxicated with a deep, masculine sweetness and it is becoming difficult to control myself and I am salivating and I wish he would move because I am getting his near uncontrollable urge to lick is creamy, beautiful tar-coloredred skin. OK, gotta post.

Crush

I find that I develop really random crushes on people, especially when I am bored or sad or trying to get over someone else. So this go 'round, I have developed a crush on a boy I went to college with that I never spoke to that I have not seen in three years. He is FLY! I like me some him, and I get the feeling that he may be into conscious hip-hop and fighting for the cause. Ugh, why is it always the one you can't have?

Trey

After seeing how hot Trey Songz's mom is on the BET Awards, I have formed a crush on him. Weird, huh?
Anyway, I like his little outfits, and I am a sucker for a bony man that can hit high notes. Have you heard him with Ludacris on the "Sex Room" song? When he says, "Head down to the floor..." but the floor is all extended, my toes curl.
For the record, Trey and his incredibly hot mom can get it.

Jamie Foxx

I have been fantasizing about Jamie Foxx for the past few days. It's funny, because I have never really been that into him. But I saw Any Given Sunday for the first time recently, and I must say, I was very impressed with his locker room speedo scenes.