Next Move, Best Move

Am I the only person who talks to their rideshare drivers about their personal life? I think I may be, because when I share the opinions on my life that the drivers give me with my friends, they stare at me with a blank face.
I recently told this one driver- a Rasta wannabe with stitch-in dreadlocks- about the situation with Third Ryan. For those of you who do no remember, Third Ryan was the man that I pined for for a WHOLE YEAR who told me casually that he "feels a connection" with one of my best friends. It was then that I decided to pack up my cookies and go home. A year was long enough. I had to pull a Maxine Waters and reclaim my time.
"So what are you going to do now?" Rasta asked.
"Uh, nothing."
"Nothing?!" Rasta was so shocked that I thought he was going to crash the car, his framed Bob Marley photo nearly sliding down the dashboard.
"Yeah, he likes my friend."
"So what?!" he demanded. "They aren't together. You have to make your next move your best move, get him to like you."
Okay. This is a PSA. What we are NOT going to do this year, in 2020, is advice the people in our lives that we love, like, and that even step into our Ubers that it is okay to waste time trying to get blind people to see how cool we are. It is the ULTIMATE waste of time! My whole 4 years of college was spent trying to get tall frat boys to realize that I was more awesome than their model girlfriends. Guess what: they didn't! I could have spent that time doing important stuff like drinking or twerking on Bourbon Street!
I have now come to a state of mind where I believe that people who are supposed to see your light shining will see it, plain and simple. My next and best move is moving on.

Small Love

At the beginning of the month, I had a doctor's appointment and ordered a rideshare to take me home. The driver was this sweet African man that didn't flip out because I was drinking cocoa out of a cup with no lid. Upon talking to him, I learned that he was 30, had just come to America two years ago, and was the youngest of a whole bunch of siblings. I asked him if he was having fun on the Atlanta dating scene and of course, I asked this sarcastically, and he said no. He said he met women but they weren't interested in him because he is 5'3. 

Here we go again. My heart went out to him. Being a short man is like the female version of being fat. People discredit you as a potential partner on sight. I have shared that, as I have gotten older, I realize how trivial it is to cancel out opportunities with men based on appearances. Sadly, I don't think that many of my friends, who are free-falling towards 40 just like me, are moving towards accepting men's differences like I am. Many of them want the 6'4 chocolate man they have wanted since they first saw Tyrese in that Coca-Cola commercial. But every man is not Tyrese just like every woman is not Beyonce. Honestly, I don't care how tall a man is anymore as long as he is nice to me and has a job. 

Loneliness is real, especially during the holidays. And again, my heart went out to this cute but small young man with long, pretty eyelashes. I kind of wanted to ask him out myself. 

But I didn't. Not that I'm not open to little love, but I didn't get vibes that he was interested. I'm done chasing after guys that don't want me. I wouldn't mind seeing him again though. He was funny. Perhaps he will be next rideshare driver. Who knows? It's a small world.