Introducing Curious George

So just when Sorta Beau wants to show out, I get revisited by T.
Who is T? Well, he's the guy that I was talking to two years ago that expressed his interest through a message on Myspace. If my memory serves me right, which it always does, he left me high and dry, just as we were getting close, by not answering my phone calls and ignoring me online.
Fast forward backwards to last week. I was bored and decided to check my Myspace page, which, in all honesty, I usually go for months without doing. Why? Well, it's deader than the once popular J. Lo sweatsuit, and has basically become a breeding ground for horny pre-teens; a Facebook for club promoters, wannabe rappers, and talent agencies. Yet, I go on there to update every now and again and low and behold, this time when I did it, I was welcomed by a two-month-old message from none other than T.
He says he wants to catch up...blah, blah...misses me...blah, blah. After a year in the Sorta death grip, I recognized his message as an attempt to try to obtain ass. He probably broke up with whoever he stopped talking to me for and needs a rebound. However, I remembered how cool we used to be- how he would call me when he got off work to ask me how my day at my internship had been. How we could talk for hours about the direction of Hip Hop. Call me stupid, but I did want to see how he was, even though, after looking through his pics, I was reacquainted with the fact that he bears a stunning resemblance to Curious George.
So tonight we talked. It was cool, although I have to say that from hello, I was not interested. He curses a lot and I can tell he doesn't know that he is doing it. He also finds the simplest thing I say funny, and uses up-north slang even though he is from North Carolina. I found him to be annoying, yet continued to talk to him, trying to rekindle something, as my mind screamed for me to hang up.
About ten minutes into the convo, he puts on his sexy voice and starts talking about how he had been thinking about me, and just knew I had been thinking of him (NOT) and regretted that we fell out of touch. He regretted it so much, in fact, that he suggested that we skip catching up too much and just schedule travel plans to meet up. Um...hello! Get a clue! Do I look like the jump off? He totally came at me sideways, and figured that since it was in his sexy voice, my panties would drop. Something tells me our reunion will be short-lived.

100 POSTS AND WRITING!

100 posts ago you, my faithful few followers, embarked with me on the literary chronicle of my 24th year of life. Now, almost a year later, you have stuck around through the uncomfortable stories of hymen retention, man let-downs, a seemingly un-mendable broken heart, and the simple post-to-post happenings in the life of a BG living in the City. Thanks bunches, and I hope that you will continue to follow me through this beautiful nightmare I call my life!

Boys Don't Cry, Right?

I have always had a hard time believing that men can feel any emotions, especially over women, largely due to the fact that they are such large shit heads.
Whenever one of my girlfriends went through a break-up, they went through the whole spectrum of emotions. They were sad. They were angry. They were irritated. It is almost always a nightmare. And they do all of this, no doubt, while their ex-boytoys are single again, back on the prowl. Never once had I witnessed a boy truly broken up over a girl...until recently.
My buddy Brownie just got out of a relationship that he put a lot of elbow grease into, let me tell you. He spent a year buttering her up and a year with her, yet somehow, it did not work out. What shocked me about the whole deal is that he is actually sad about it. Sometimes he's angry. I even detect a hint of irritation.
My buddy's brake-up has me rethinking what I have previously thought about males. If they are capable of feeling, then they are capable of thinking and reasoning and the whole thing. Which means they aren't as dumb as they want us to believe- which means that they really are human! Does this mean they now deserve my respect and compassion?
Man, I am truly lost on this one. I liked it better when I was under the impression that boys were just...boys: simple and heartless.

Dress Stress

I have gained weight, it's official.
A couple of weeks ago I ordered a dress from Torrid and sat in nearly unbarable anticipation, weighting for the dress to be delivered. It got here and it fit me like a wife beater. So I ordered another one, and this one fit me like a glove and not in a good way.
I can see how I gained weight. I pretty much quit going to the gym and resorted to snacking on cookies in my room while watching hours of TV. I guess I just thought that since I was already fat, there was some invisible cap on how fat I could get. Today, I was proven wrong.
So now, I fear that I will have to wear one of the boring dresses in my closet. Needless to say, I will be going to they gym in the moring, even though I will be cranky.

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."