Friday, January 29, 2010
tonight's news is a love story.
over 200,000 dead in haiti. one lady was pulled out of the rubble after 6 days. alive. they showed it on tv. her husband didn't give up hope; he did not stop looking. he did not stop looking.
he did not stop looking for her.
eventually, when they got to her, she said, "tell my husband that in life, or in death, i love you."
i saw the worry in his eyes. the love. the feverish need to find his partner. the resolve to keep looking.
he did not stop looking for her.
and in that moment, as i watched the coverage, the tears came. i still haven't cried for haiti yet. not fully. i don't think i can. but up till that moment, i hadn't cried at all. i'd sent money hither and thither, rallied some friends to get into the effort. but i hadn't let myself feel it. i can't.
i told yall this was a love story.
you see, when i saw the face of this man... this grown ass, teary-eyed man, looking for his wife... something in me shifted. i was once again moved by the sheer tenacity of the people. and the tenacity of their faith.
and the tenacity of love.
and in that moment, i realized that i did not envision this kind of love in my life. do i eventually think i'll get married? sure, why not. but do i envision a husband would seek me out the way this man sought out his wife? no. quite frankly, no.
don't miss what i just said.
so now i'm curious: is this the norm? do most women envision their husband to be this kinda guy? the guy that would move structural rubble to find them? the guy who would love them till the last breath? i mean, sure, we all dream of the knight in shining armor when we're teenagers, but that's not the same, is it? heck, some of us are still waiting for our knight, and we're post-30. but this guy wasn't a knight... per se. he didn't seek his wife out of valor or heroism. he sought her out because he needed her. he needed her. i'm guessing, he loved her, too.
so is it odd that i don't see that for me? and this isn't on some all-men-suck type shit. this is more of 'does that really exist for ME' type thing. you see, my male friends have told me that i'm too... demanding. i expect too much from a guy. my expectations are too idealistic.
but then i look at my parents and instinctively know - not believe, but know - that my dad would move boulders for my mom. i can't speak to my grandparents' relationships because both my grandads have been dead about as long as i've been alive. so i didn't get to observe them together. but is that a characteristic that is quite simply beyond my generation? outdated?
i'm looking around at the single people of my generation and it doesn't mirror what i'm holding on to. i see women who are quiiiiite gangster about going after the men they want. especially when you consider your up-and-coming, eligible black women. oh some of those chicks are cut-throat. i see women working harder and harder to attract men - with mixed results - and i see men becoming more and more lax in the pursuit. heck, some men have stopped pursuing altogether. and frankly, who can blame them? when the bare minimum of quals will get you a gatdemm reality show where you can pick and choose an assmate (i mean, seriously... who actually gets married off these shows), then why rise above mediocrity? what's the ROI?
so i really need to know: are my notions of courtship out of date? the notion of a man seeking out a woman relentlessly. notions of a woman not having to hunt. a notion of courtship where the word 'courtship' isn't odd.
am i out of touch?
~ Sugar Brown
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
There...I said it and I ain't taking it back. This regard towards crushes has been a long standing belief of mine because crushes are the curses that lead to heartache and unrequited feelings.
Now, I'm not talking about attraction. Crushes and Attraction are completely different symptoms. Attraction is nothing more than admiring the assets of another, whether physical, emotional or biological. Day in and day out I am attracted to men, women, kids, puppies, electronic gadgets, food and clothes. Attraction just lets you know that the senses are functioning.
However, a crush is a horse of a different color. Just think back to any crush you ever had. For that fleeting moment your crush made you feel like you're on top of the world. You dream about interacting with this person. Telling a funny joke and your beloved laughs. Holding your beloved's hand. Or if you're like me, watching your beloved's toes curl in a fit of ecstasy. (Oh don't act like I'm the only one that goes there)
But reality always wins this battle. In 99% of crush cases, the crush never works out. The desire for this person just masks the deep-seeded feelings of inadequacy or the realization of unfulfilled longing. How many times did you feel bad about yourself once the horrible truth came to light that this person either a). didn't know you existed or b). wanted anyone else but you?
Despite my loathing of the act, I still get crushes. Crushes effect me the same way acid reflux does, there's nothing bad per se I did to get it. Its a nuisance and an occasionally discomfort, but ultimately I learn to deal with it.
Fortunately, age and counseling techniques have provided me with some perspective on my antagonistic relationship to crushes. Crushes provide me an opportunity to look at the areas of my life that I still struggle with and why this person brings up dormant feelings from deep inside of me.
Sometimes crushes allow me to test how much I have grown and how much I've allowed my heart to heal. But most importantly, they remind me of how human I truly am and that I am a loving individual.
So am I welcoming crushes into my life with open arms? HELL NO! I am still not fond of them. Nevertheless, I am starting to think of them like Cod Liver Oil now. Not the greatest thing in the world to swallow, but it hasn't killed me yet!
Monday, January 25, 2010
You see, I learned early on in life (thank God) I, like so many other sisters, have been bamboozled. Not by those men. Nope. By my original tribe. The ancestrial voices coupled with teachers, scholars...hell, Grandma & moms. oh yes. Liars. Now, they didn't mean any harm by it. In the midst of parting ponytails, making school lunches, trying not to cuss or flirt "in front of the girls", commands to pull your skirt down and your underwear up some shit just gets glossed over. It's hard work being a tribe of women tasked with raising a strong willed girl to be something the rest of the ancestors can be proud to call the reason for their blood, sweat and tears. So some lessons just get glazed over. One such lesson that is taught way too often and without genuine reflection is the directive to 'find yourself a nice guy and settle down'.
First - I don't settle. The very idea is unappealing so why would you couple such a thing with a mating lesson?
Second - really? just that simple huh? that's it? he just has to be nice?
This brings me back to the "nice guys" I know and the all that glitters aint gold theory. Brothers relax and rock with me for a few on this one.
Now I've sat and listened to the complaints and mumblings those friends make when the current object of their affections wasn't really trying to hear it. Truth - there were times when, for some, I was the "uncooperative" interest. They puff up. They try to look confident. And when they are good and ready to believe it's never going to happen with that chick (or the last one and maybe not the next one) they go into a dismissive stance of:
- Yall claim you want a good brother but then you chase after raggedy niggaz who treat you like shit
- Yall hoes only want money or dudes who aint about shit. So I'm gonna start treating yall like yall treat me
- See I try and do the right thing and yall just wanna play a brother
....and yall say we are emotional/drama queens. Really dude? Rock with me on this. Just because you are a good dude doesn't mean you are the dude for her. The fact that she knows that before you do doesn't make her grimey or unappreciative of your "goodness". It makes her blessed to know herself. Doesn't mean she's chasing "bad boys" or only after money. It simply means she doesn't want your ass.
Think about it. It takes more than being a good dude for you to be the right dude for any one particular woman or else you'd be the conclusive soul mate of every righteous chick on the planet. If we give in to the idea that there is one person for everyone than, self proclaimed "good guy" or not, you are going to meet more chicks who aren't interested since in the end can't be but one chick for you.
On the flip side, let's say, despite her nagging feeling that you aren't the one, you convince her to take a chance with you. You will still end up grumbling in the end. It always makes me laugh when dudes get the "er" face and ask "why is it that yall can be all cool and everything match up but then as soon as you get in a relationship she changes". She doesn't fool, the situation does. It's easy to be cool, chillin, sexually "feelin the vibe" when there's no responsibility attached. Once you man up to take a journey with this woman into a stronger foundation you are responsible for maintaining the balance and health of that process. In short, shit changes.
However, if you want all the rights and none of the responsibility understand you just dropped out of "good guy" status and the line for man-whores, "break in case of emergency" dick & other succubi is on the under side of heaven and therefore you must pass the earth plane and promptly descend two levels down to make pleasantries with your co-horts (liars, tyrants, & "ballers"...oh my!)...and in this we wish you well. If you choose, because one must recognize as a point of appreciation that it is a choice, to remain "one of the good guys" then respect that you asked for this process don't whine or shy away from the responsibility of it. There is no honor in that.
Now sisters, your turn to rock with me for a few. I KNOW you were told the same lie I was told. And on your "search" for this mythical "good guy" you find yourself in one of two situations. Either trying to figure out why all the "good men" are taken (since you can't find one) or why it never seems to work out (when you do find one). Let's take it a piece at a time.
- All the good guys are taken -
Do you have male friends? Than unless you surround yourself with grimey men clearly the good men aren't all taken. They are your friends. And you had the chance to make it more than that and passed on it. Probably for the basic reason that you just weren't sexually attracted to that particlar dude. It is possible for a man to be both nice and ugly. Nice and dumber than a doorknob. Nice with no ambition. Nice with 4 babies and 3 baby mamas (he's nice to everyone). Nice and still living with his mama. Nice and, well, not for you.
- Why does it seem to never work out when you do find a "good man" -
Not every good man makes for a good mate. This was the truth I struggled with. I have a few exes who I know, in hindsight, we should have stayed friends. Good guys. Horrible mates. Who your "good guy" friend is as a man that has your back and has gotten you through other break-ups, etc. is not always who he is as a mate. Now he has sexual expectations, a desire to share his extensive porn collection and the need for constant gratification. Crap you didn't have to think about when yall were just kickin it. Think of it in the same way you think of your female friends. We all have that female friend who is your ace! She's got a plan and a good heart. Always has her business in order and there for you when you need her but somehow f's up every romantic relationship she's in. Good peeps. Bad mate. Your guy friends can have the same "syndrome".
All in all, this isn't an exact science. Regardless of the easy breezy strategy our foremothers provided, it's not as black and white as simply finding a good guy or girl and just "settling down" for whatever companionship they provide. It takes chemistry (sexual and mental), patience, affection and a whole list of "unique to you" other attributes for you to even be willing to consider them as a mate. So *raising my glass* here's to walking into a season of trying to grasp the complexities of the good men vs the good mates and figure out how to locate the man for me that can serve as both.
Friday, January 22, 2010
ok ok so we were gonna talk about the Rolaid Exes, true? okay so these dudes show up every year. like clockwork. they go through their rolodexes in december, and whaddyaknow, a lucky name pops up. or 2. or 12. these are names of women who, for whatever reason, they have lost touch with. they immediately become curious. "is she available? do i still have a chance?"
and then they call.
exhibit A: michael. i've known michael for about 4 or 5 years. it's always been a 'bad timing' situation with us. that, and i've never actually trusted a word that comes out of his mouth. 2 failed marriages and no kids later, he comes looking for me. wow, what did i do to earn this sonofamadre in the lottery...? this was last year. anyway, i tried the usual 'brush off maneuvers' (don't call back; don't txt back; block his IM; ignore, ignore, ignore)... but he was persistent.
so i actually started taking his calls, and we started talking. and talking. and talking. then it was 'when can i come visit you' talking. he's down south. i'm not. and then, the most peculiar thing happened: he stopped calling.
it was a gradual thing. in and of itself, his behavior isn't what stumps me. it's the fact that this happens to me kinda often. meet a guy. like a guy. he likes me. he chases. we talk. he tries to get some. i say no. then things...slow...down. :-
so now, michael has tried calling again. sadly for him, he's on the permanent ignore list. not out of spite. nope. not as a punitive measure. for me, it's self-preservation.
"when someone shows you who they are, believe them" -- some black billionairess from mississippi.
the thing is, when michael - or any other guy - shows me he's an asshole, i believe it. and i treat him accordingly and keep my distance. as it turns out, i happen to be a veritable connoiseur of assholes. i magnetically attract them, much like shit does flies. now, regurgitating them over and over again, ah yes... my favorite new year's tradition of all.
Thank you for tuning in. I'm... Sugar Brown.
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Now that we got the shout-outs in, time for one of my favorite segments. Tappin' and Talkin' with T-Gyrl...where you "the fan" can write in and "yours truly" will help you out with your love problems while I luxuriate on a little boxed wine!!
Help!! I am desperate! After years of being single, I finally met a man. He is amazing and we really hit it off well. Its been 6 months and we have been talking about taking the relationship to the next committed level, but there is one problem: my homegirls. He can't stand them! He thinks they are haters and don't want to see me happy. I told him that they aren't like that and that he's jealous of our friendship. But my girlfriends are kinda critical of men and a little bitter. I don't know what to do. Those are my girls, but I love my man and I don't want to choose between them.
Stuck in the middle
It may be the wine talking, but it sounds like you got a situation on your hands. The pull between honoring the Sisterhood or standing by your man. Either way you go, it will lead to hurt feelings on your part. How you handle this requires patience and precision and I think I can help you out by the time I finish off this box of Sangria.
What you have on your hands is a case of a man not quite understanding the dynamics of your girlfriends. He may have heard one or two of them say something stank and it put him off. What you have to do is carefully introduce each girlfriend to him and give him some context so that he can become comfortable with your friends.
Most good men understand that the bonds of friendship are important and necessary for survival, especially in singlehood. And as this writer believes, these same men will encourage their women to keep healthy bonds with their girlfriends. (Let the liquor tell it!)
HOWEVER, it IS important that your man knows the personalities of the girlfriends you keep. These are the people who have the most direct influence over you and make the difference in who you date and who gets kicked to the curb. Let's take a look at some of the universal personalities that can make up the sister circle:
The Sleeper Cell
This chick ruins any relationships she may have with a potential mate. No one likes to hook her ass up. Just when you think they hit it off.....BAM!! She detonates that hidden bomb that makes a man flee to the hills. Furthermore, you will lose your man faster than I can tap the spigot on my boxed wine if you hook this heiffa up with one of your man's friends. No one can ever figure out why she can't keep a man. But what sleeper cell doesn't want anyone to know is that she is terrified at the thought of relationships, especially if it could possibly go well. She has no clue how to handle the impact of that, but she really, really, REALLY wants a relationship.
One of my personal favorites! She IS angry!! At who, no one knows...but her nose stays turned up at EVERYTHING! Angry Smurf probably loves ol' "Not Gon' Cry" Mary J. Blige and Jagged Little Pill Alanis Morrisette. She is so hardcore,"Mommy Dearest" is one of her favorite movies. Now, Angry Smurf don't like going out at all, but she loves kicking it with the girls. She is the first with a "Oh no he didn't" when you talk about some trivial thing your man did. Often mistaken as a lesbian for her incessant male-bashing rhetoric, Angry Smurf may be considered...ahem...bitter. (Because, quietly, she still holds onto the pain of being jilted by past lovers.) But be very careful when you are at the club/bar with her, she will keep the men away from you the whole night saying things like, "Hmmpf, there ain't any good men out here. They are all intimidated by strong independent women like us!...I'm ready to go". The sister circle bonds around one of those attitude charged incidents that Angry Smurf is infamous for. Introduce her to your man gingerly.
This is the woman that others love to hate! She's beautiful and everyone tells her that. Angry Smurf can't stand her ass, but what's new? Ms. America is the darling of any group and the apple of every man's eye. Most men are captivated by her beauty, so much that they will pay for her and her girlfriends drinks all night long at the club. (Angry Smurf will sit pissed off while she sucks down those drinks too.) On the surface, it would appear she doesn't need the circle of friends because of her constant attention from men, but she clings to it. Ms. America knows she's good looking, but she constantly wonders if people really see her for who she is. And for all of the attention, she is just as single as the rest of the group!
The free spirit! Everything she does and says have some sort of sexual kinetic energy attached to it, even if its just from washing dishes. Angry Smurf can't stand her ass either! LoveSexy gets it in and in and in. She falls out of love as quickly as she gets it in and in and in. LoveSexy is on an ethereal quest to be ascended into the love realm, where the energies of the world unite into one. Her beloved and she can become one unit: mind, body and soul. (Angry Smurf complains how LoveSexy is obviously hitting the chronic with her freak nasty ways). The only real issue with LoveSexy is that her lovesexiness confuses the hell out of men and women alike, whereas she appears to hit on everyone. That withstanding, she is chill!
Prudence is quite the character! Prudence goes to two church services on Sunday, Bible study on Monday, Young Adults Bible study on Tuesday, Christian singles' mixer on Wednesday, choir practice on Thursday and out with her girls on Friday. She is ALWAYS trying to get her life right with the Lord (Nothing's wrong with that as I probably should attend a little more church myself...I mean, attend church.) She is looking for a God-fearing Christian Man who is resolute with his walk with God. Prudence can be a little judgmental to the other girls in the crew at times, i.e. LoveSexy, and that's why Angry Smurf will gladly hang out with Prudence. But what Prudence doesn't want the girls to know about is the graveyard of former paramours buried DEEP within her freak closet. Prudence's "body" count is higher than the aftermath of a Category-4 hurricane, but the fear of her girls judging her is crippling.
She is a guy's dream, an insecure woman's nightmare and her own personal tragedy! She loves sports and beer. She takes a pole dancing class 2 days a week and she is funny as hell. Insecure women cling to their men tighter because guys think she's better than Mom's apple pie. Why do guys like her so? Well, its because she can hold her own in conversations and become one of the boys, but that's just it....they don't "see" her as anything more than buddy. She gets along with everyone in the girlfriend circle, even Angry Smurf! She's the glue that holds the group together and probably the only person that your man will be okay with. For all that she's got going for her, Peppermint Patti cannot find a partner. Its the darndest thing! Nevertheless, she brings balance to the group.
Okay, so my box is getting low and so is my ability to think coherently. Try sharing the dynamics of the group with your man. He will appreciate the candor and probably be a good sounding board for you when it comes to your girlfriends. Good luck and keep me posted on your progress!!
Monday, January 18, 2010
Now, I'll be real with you, I've never been the girl to dream of weddings, flowers or spending "happily" ever after tied to a man. In fact, I've always thought of happy & men/sex as two completely separate and sometimes competing realities. That is, until 5 years ago when I met a person who made me want to spend a few breaths of energy considering marriage to, and children with, him. It didn't work out. No worries. But not before I learned a hard lesson. Being non-clairvoyant and in love, breeds hope for what is both real and imagined. The idea that he was the one I should marry...that was my hopeful imagination. The idea that we would one day have children, though I didn't know it at the time of our break, was my hopeful reality.
I was pregnant and not for the first time. The first time we were pregnant with, and lost, a set of twins early in our relationship. This time we were pregnant, though no longer together, with a girl. He was excited. I was scared. I'd already learned from the doctor's that due to some other medical issues I wouldn't be able to carry this baby full term either. I hoped for the best. I carried her for as long as I could. Named her after his grandmother who was always sweet to me and when the time came to push her half formed body into this world so that her fully formed spirit could go back to the Lord...I did that too. The ex was no where to be seen in any of it. He was excited when he first found about her but hell, his attention span was always short which in some way, I guess, explains why he cheated. But I digress...
I did what I had to do. Picked myself back up. Tucked the shattered pieces of hope I had for a surviving child away and walked into a new season. A little bloodied and bruised but not broken. I also had a new lesson to hold on to. I wanted children. I hadn't really known that until I felt my 2nd one grow inside of me. Hmm...I told you, hope is a double edge sword. How is the painfully humbling death of hope for one energy make you hope to breathe life into another?
Fast forward a few years...on to the next serious relationship. We're talking love, he's talking marriage, huh?? What did you say doc?? You guessed it, all of a sudden, we're talking pregnant! Again, he's excited and I'm scared. I know my track record. I know my body isn't ready...so does my doctor. She schedules me for all the required tests so we can have the probability of survival and keep hope alive chat. Two days for her to tell me the pregnancy wouldn't survive.
I'm not sure I can go through it again. So I start the abortion chat with myself, and as twisted as it may seem, I felt better. Don't get me wrong. I wanted my baby. With all my heart, I did. Somehow, convincing myself that I had a choice in whether this one lived or died made me feel like I had some say. Made the pain lessen. I knew I wouldn't ever do it but I needed to feel I had some control in this so hoping didn't seem like an empty gesture. I fed into it so much that I even told my girlfriends that I was going to terminate. Speaking it out loud made me feel as if I wasn't totally powerless and I didn't want to have to say a third time that something was wrong with me & I couldn't carry this one either. I'd rather have their support or indignation over a choice they thought I was making than their pity for the 3rd time. I'd rather feel like I had the same choices every other woman had. I didn't. Two weeks later, I lost that baby too.
For the first time, I let my mother know. She was the only one who knew the whole story and made it her business to set up camp in my house. She was with me through every hormone change and every moment of hope and defeat. Every moment of stubborn indignation and claiming I didn't care. She was there when I decided my baby was a girl. She was there when I decided to name her Cadence (the natural rhythm and flow). She was there when everything in me died and I had to be taken to the hospital. She was there when I couldn't get out of bed for four days for blaming myself for not hoping enough & for speaking it into being. She was there when I realized I hadn't heard from the "loving" father in 3 days since telling him Cadence was gone. She was there when the doc called to check on me and to "reassure me" Cadence never had a chance no matter what ideas I spoke aloud. Cadence's cell division was slow and stopped somewhere between the 4th & 5th week. I didn't even find out I was pregnant until the 6th.
If I never meet & marry my soulmate and therefore never have children, I'm okay with that. But I pray that I do. And I pray that if/when that comes to pass, my body will have healed enough that we can create a new energy together and both of us will be able to experience, for the first time, having children. I pray. Which, to me, is hope coupled with faith and the understanding that should it not come to pass I won't break. I may be bloodied & bruised but not broken. Because from all this I've learned, hope (without faith & understanding) can damn near kill you.
Thursday, January 14, 2010
This is the news.
Top headline: it is now 2010. you know what that means, right? yes. new year's rituals. let's GO!
1. the jillian curse
everybody you know will (re)discover their gym membership card, wipe the dust, cobwebs and late payments off that bitch, grab their forlorn and previously neglected sneakers (mine have a gangster lean at this point), stock up on ipods, iphones, ivibrators and march to their nearest hazing headquarters.
they will sweat. they will feel good. and here's my favorite part:
they will feel the need to tell everyone all about it.
so to all my fellow humans out there battling the bulge, i say: SHUT whatiscalled THE FUCK UP ABOUT IT ALREADY. nobody wants to hear that shit. you said it in 2009. and 08. and when you turned 30. and when you turned 25. and when you first met him/her. and when s/he dumped you.
now, i'm not saying you won't succeed, this time. i mean, why SHOULDN'T this time be different from all 1, 928, 209, 762 times you've tried in the past? no, not saying that at all.
i'm saying, 'do or do not. better yet, just DO. but shut up.' those who are gonna make things happen, will do so. it won't require an ad in the washington post. it won't require a cyber support network. it won't require hypercritical let's-all-go-out-but-only-share-one-appetizer self-delusion. (cuz bish you know you're gonna be wolfing down a double cheeseburger on the way home, the moment your car is safely out of sight.)
2. the rolodex cleanse
ok i'm fully aware that the only people who still use a rolodex are typically over 50. (hi mom... dad.) but we all have one in some form or another, usually our cell phone address books.
i particularly enjoy this ritual. i like to purge. in general.
sorry, i actually drifted off on a daydream of purging rituals. where were we... oh yes. the rolodex cleanse. okay so this is where we all go through our address books and clean it up a bit. phone books. facebook friends. twitter lists. (who da fawk is annie00htxxx??) email lists. CB radio frequencies. whatever... we enjoy the symbolic act of deleting the undeserving and preserving the contact information of the precious few whom we deem worth the effort. thereby winding up with a meagre 2, 376 friends on facebook. ha! take THAT, you 23 people i deleted!!
funny, you never consider the question, "who's deleting ME right now?"
it also means, however, that you discover people you had 'forgotten' about since last year. which also means someone or some people are discovering YOU. which leads to...
3. the rolaid-ex (chu are digging my verrrrd play, yesss?)
the rolaid ex. the ex that won't go away. like bad gas. he rediscovers you every year. usually through a holiday chain txt msg. beware, because once you respond with '..and you too', he's got you. he now knows that you're alive, your number is still the same, and you didn't delete his # (otherwise you'd have responded 'who da fok is this?').
more on him, after these messages...
please note: i didn't mention haiti or the hell they're going through right now, because words truly cannot express what's in my heart. GIVE, people. don't talk. DO. give. now. more. NOW.
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
On this random occasion, I decided to visit a former babysitter who was vital in my care-taking from the ages of 3-12. (And the main reason I fiercely begged my mother to let me become a latch key kid). Let's call her Ms. Pearl.
When Ms. Pearl opened the door, she greeted me with her usual, "I was just telling Mr. Henry I hadn't seen you."
Mr. Henry is Ms. Pearl's longtime partner. The pair have been together since the Underground Railroad and Nat Turner's Rebellion, but I digress.
Mr. Henry shouts from his solitary game, "Is that my Tammy?" (I hate that name!)
"Henry, quit calling her that! That ain't her name!" quips Ms. Pearl (Thanks Ms. Pearl)
I sit through the obligatory conversations about my family and theirs. Getting the formalities out of the way, Ms. Pearl gets all Wendy Williams on me.
"So, are you dating someone?"
I know she's been waiting for this answer. Even Mr. Henry interrupted his card game again to hear the answer to this question. The only thing needed was a PA system so that my answer could be heard around the city. They waited with baited breath as I formed my lips to say...
"Actually, no, I'm not"
This answer came with the same amount of let down as Donny Osmond winning Dancing with the Stars in 2009. I felt like I confessed to committing a heinous crime against nature and now I was left to absorb the reactions that my ill-fated answer left me.
In utter bewilderment, Ms. Pearl asks, "Well, what's wrong with you? Are you not meeting people?"
The look on her face literally broke my heart, even though, it was the same answer I gave her on the last three visits I made to her. On reflex, I blurted out some half-hearted "not finding the right person" answer to her that went completely over her head.
As I sat explaining my life away, Mr. Henry remarked, "Its hard out here for young women to find a good man today. I don't envy you."
Ms. Pearl only shook her head in agreement but a small part of me knew it was out of disgust. I actually felt teary-eyed that I couldn't produce an answer that would fill her with the optimism she so desperately wanted. Feeling defeated, Ms. Pearl went on to talk about mutual people we knew who were "suffering" from illnesses.
As I prepared myself to go, she wished me well and told me to come back, but not before saying that I should be bringing a wedding invitation the next time I come.
I walked out of that house feeling more alone. I felt like Ms. Pearl reactions to my love life were the same as an admission of having Lou Gehrig's Disease or Cancer.
But to her, I was "stricken" with the worst disease of them all - singleness.
Not until that interaction did I know the crippling effects of singleness. I would be punished to a life of single-rates and tables for one with no hope of a cure. People, is there anyone out there who have ever SURVIVED singleness?
Are my coupled girlfriends having this same type of conversations about my "diagnosis"?
Woman #1: Girl, did you hear what happened to T-Gyrl?
Woman # 2: Naw...OOH, what's the "T"?
Woman # 1: Girl, you not gon' believe what she got?
Woman # 2: Did she get a STD?
Woman # 1: Girl, worse....she's single!
Woman # 2: Aww Lawd, what she gon' do? How long she been that way?
Apparently, singleness is a debilitating disease and, curiously, its the number one killer of African American women. Now, you can try and cure it with hook-ups, boos, and side jawns but it won't stop the on-set of side effects and the untimeliness of its symptoms.
And it serves me right for listening to those damn Sex and the City heiffas. Making me think I could actual live a fabulous life of fun, friendship and fashion being...dare I say...single. It was only a rouse to take my mind from the severity of my situation.
What was Ms. Pearl's greatest concern? Maybe I would suffer an unfulfilled life of singleness without ever knowing the joys of white dresses, bouquets and diamonds? Or quite possibly never knowing the complete bliss of watching soap operas and playing cards together?
Ms. Pearl, though well intentioned, echoed the sentiments of other attached friends who never had the courage to express their own fear for my "situation". Why does the "single" status evoke so much disdain?
Should I and my other incurably single friends be cast into a leper colony designated for single people until the relationship savior comes and rid us of our suffering? Is there no end to our pain?
Well, I say to you committed and attached people, don't let this single friend suffer in loneliness anymore. Don't feel sorry for me, take action!! Right now, for just $0.75 cents a day and a hot Facebook picture, you could make sure I never succumb to another lonesome day or night.
Translation: Hook a sista up in 2010!!
'til next time...
Monday, January 11, 2010
My grandmother kept pretending he was someone else.
"hey you're the one she brought to her mother's recital...right?"
"no Grand. that was W"
"oh, well where is he? I liked him - he was cute."
"hey you're the one we met last Christmas...right?"
"no Grand. That was T and you met him every Christmas for the entire four years we were together."
"oh. well where is he?? I liked him - he could eat!"
"oooh I know, I know! you're the one she brought to the uncles birthday party last month ... right?
"no Grand. That was J and u've seen him every year since I was 4."
"oh. Well where is he??? I liked him - A LOT - if I was 5 years younger..."
my grand daddy's head snapped up as he said "50....if you were 50 years younger"
And my all time favorite - At the end of the night, when all was said and done, NEXT! was hugging folks goodbye like it was New Year's eve. He gets to Grand...
"who da hell are you???? - in here huggin folks like we know you! nasty ass strangers"
I just told NEXT! she has Alzheimers. I don't even know if NEXT! believed me. Common sense would tell you, clearly, if she can remember every negro from my past, she doesn't have Alzheimers. She has lie-heimers. She knew who that boy was (or at least who he wasn't). She's just a rabble rouser. But I guess NEXT! wanted it to be true.
NEXT! just patted my hand in a sympathetic manner and said "oh, I understand - hopefully you won't have to put her in a home." I assured him "Not unless it's the crazy house." I took another sip of wine and snatched my hand away as Grand kicked me under the table - the lil rat, I swear.