My Eyes Are Green Cause I Eats A Lot of Vegetables

Earlier this week my cousin (another one who’s like a big brother to me) revealed that he is planning on proposing to his girlfriend this weekend. Squeaaal! He just turned 30 years old and had revealed the last time we saw each other that he was ready to settle down and have a family. So this was not a total surprise. Congrats, I said.

And then he emailed me a picture of the ring. Now why you wanna go and do that? It’s everything you would expect from an ‘every kiss begins with Kay’s’ and “he went to Jarred”, commercial. “Awww,” was my reply.

Then Wednesday night I went out with a guy friend and he talmbout how he and his ex girlfriend had rekindled and now she wants to get back together. He wasn’t so sure. Because on the one hand he feels more productive when he’s by himself and can really get on his grind work wise, but on the other hand he also likes the comfort of being in a relationship. And having someone to well you know do stuff with. And how come we as a people never address the fact that men hate to be alone? That women keep coming off as the "weak" ones cause we lament about our lack of dates, but still keep charging through this thing life - whereas this nig can't even go one month without some type of female companionship in his life. But as usual I digress. I sat and listened, keeping my thoughts to myself, but all signs pointed to them getting back together.

And then yesterday my cousin revealed that he was headed to Jamaica because that’s where he is planning on proposing. Hold up. Wait a minute! You left out that part of the story. For real though. You are going to a sunny island, with an awesome ring in your pocket, probably gonna plan some uber romantic way to propose and then propose?!? That’s how you gon’ do it? My response to him. Verbatim: Well alright. I’m fina head to church for this meeting. Then I’ma lay myself across the altar. And then head home and have a good cry. But you have fun!

And just like that without warning the green eyed monster reared its ugly head. Funny how that little bastard just pops up, like “yo yo yo it’s been a minute since we’ve seen each other. Who we hatin’ on today?” Everybody, green eyed monster. Everybody who has them a somebody. Sigh. Of course that’s not right. Of course you shouldn’t say those kinds of things. Of course you should stay positive. And know that God has something better for you. And that there’s someone out there just for you. Yeah! And whatever else is supposed to keep single women calm and away from cliffs.

But sometimes in the right now, when you don’t have a crystal ball, or real prospects, when you wake up in a house by yourself and don’t speak to a single soul until you arrive to work, when you carry the heavy load of life in your own two hands, in your pocketbook and sometimes on your back, when it’s been such a long time you forgot that you were fine, and when you’ve been alone for so long that you can’t even conceive what it would be like to be able to put down your bags and lean on someone else, it sucks. Period. Point blank. Sucks.

There are meaningful words of encouragement dispensed by friends who want only the best for you. There are pastors who deliver sermons on how God never meant for anyone to be alone that are meant to be comforting, but can sometimes have you questioning, wrestling with your own faith. And there are people who don’t understand who will tell you to buck up, get it together grouch, unball yourself from outta that corner, who can’t comprehend what exactly you’re going through (cause your life isn’t bad at all) because the truth is sometimes you can’t even comprehend that you can go through this life working, laughing, and pirouetting, thinking you are totally fine, but all this time loneliness has covertly been seeping into your insides and then working its way back out, so that by the time you realize what’s happening, you can feel it all over your body, from the hairs that stand up on your arms, to your pulsating fingertips, all the way into the polish that covers your toenails.

It is a sadness that you hope passes. And eventually it does. Brownies help. A good cry in the dark does wonders. Prayer works. Mental health days give you peace. Shifting the negative energy into something else (a hobby, exercise, a rum & coke - heh) makes you feel a wee bit better. Stuffing the green eyed monster back into his cage and putting on the padlock is a good starting place. Continuing to smile until even you believe it is so necessary. Resuming the working, laughing, and the pirouetting, so your eyes can return to their normal color.

That’s my time y’all! Happy Rum Punch Friday!

I Get So Lonely

A while ago I mentioned that I was going to write a post about sometimes I wish I were a whore. But I decided to save it for another day. Well today’s the day. Lol. So as Courvoisier once wrote – everyone’s definition of a ho is different and susceptible to change depending on the circumstances. But for the purpose of this post I mean it as someone who sleeps with another woman’s man. Knowingly. On purpose.

So yeah sometimes I wish I was a whore or had ho like tendencies cause sometimes I get so lonely and I can let just anybody hold me. This article in the Washington Post was written by Lori Gottlieb, a 40 year old single woman who is now a single mother – she had a donor – she discusses how she wishes she had chosen Mr. Good Enough. We’ll get to that next week in our next Looking For Your Daddy episode. Today we’ll deal with the other half of the article. Being lonely. She writes:

It's not that women like her feel incomplete without a partner. And of course, not all women are looking for a long-term monogamous relationship. But still, if no man is an island, most women aren't either. How lonely it was, before I had my son, to wake up in an empty house every morning, eat breakfast alone, read the paper alone, do the dishes alone. How dispiriting it felt to move to a new place alone, to shop for groceries for only myself, to have nobody to talk to in those sleepy moments before bed except for girlfriends on the phone, chatting about -- what else? -- men.

But saying this aloud makes people uncomfortable. I got an e-mail from a never-married single mother like me who said that when she shared her loneliness on a single-mom listserv, people told her to stop feeling sorry for herself and to "get a life." One woman even suggested that if she was so unhappy being a single mother, she should put her child in foster care.

There is so much truth in this. I don’t think it’s PC for women especially if she got her own house, got her own car, two jobs work hard she a bad broad – to admit that she gets lonely. And f- all that dating and romanctical stuff. Sometimes she needs the weight of a man on top. Or just beside her in bed. Any man. An ex man. A young man. An ugly man. A dull man. Your man.

But women who love the Lord, have family and friends, travel, read books, have hobbies, see plays are not supposed to be lonely. Apparently that emotion was removed the day we got our college degrees. And as antiquated as it sounds, I think we heterosexual women who have partaken in D at lest once in our lives or ever been kissed real good can agree that there’s something about having a man around. The convos are different than with your girls. And sometimes they’re mo’ better. There’s flirting. And tingles. The heavy lifting gets done. The shoveling. The bug killing. The urges are met and tended to. There’s the sense of safety and security no matter how false it may be. I mean I think every single woman can belt out the chorus of Stephanie Mills’ Comfort of a Man and truly mean it.

And now as I get older and the nights get longer and the other side of the bed gets cold © Little Brother, and I'm not saying I would partake in such behavior, but I like Chris Rock, I understand how women can give up and say, “I’ll take your man” for the night at least. Shoot I had an opportunity presented to me recently. Don’t worry I passed. But fake intimacy can kinda sorta feel like the real thing if you close your eyes tight enough, no? Having someone in your bed, your space, your life, when it’s just you waking up alone, doing it all alone, looks good from a distance. And feels even better in reality.

Of course I know things always go badly when you try to do things the easy way. Heh. And so like Tupac told me to do, I keep my head up and try not to wallow in the feelings for too long. But sometimes I wonder if as you age, do things get worse or easier? Does the loneliness settle into your bones like arthritis and just become a part of you? And you just take two pills of reality and keep it moving? I know several Black women who’ve never married or been alone and the topic of loneliness is rarely discussed. And it’s a taboo subject. Cause when you’ve been blessed, you’re supposed to be happy at all times. You know.

But as I watch these women conquer the world, be that badd chick, I wonder if even in a room full of people do they sometimes feel totally and utterly alone? Do they sometimes cry in the dark? Or in the daylight on their way to work? Do they sometimes just want to lean into someone else’s arms to be held and feel weightless? I mean like George Clooney’s character said in Up in the Air: “Everybody needs a co-pilot. Life’s better with company.” Even if they can’t spend the night...

That’s my time y’all! Happy Rum Punch Friday!

Cause Dark and Stormy knows how much I'm loving this song...

running cross my mind

it's that time of night.  when the sun has gone home to rest. the moon has come out to play.  you've been working all day.  perhaps out for a night with the girls.  but now you're inside.  home.  alone.  stripped down to your t-shirt and your panties.  crawled into bed.  pulled the covers way up over your head.  and waited for sleep to come. over take your body.  quiet your  thoughts.

of him.

you place the phone on the nightstand.  slide it as far away from your itching fingers as it will possibly go.  you could just turn it off.  or put it in the front room.  but what if someone tries to reach you?  what if someone dies in the middle of the night?  or has the irrepressible urge to hear your voice at 3 am?

like you long to hear his.

that's when the feeling comes on the strongest.

to grab it back.  scroll through the phone book.  select his name and start typing.

hey. how u? what ya doin?
i miss you.
u up?

and then you stare at the screen.  the words.  going over in your mind all the reasons why this is such a bad idea.  or all the ways that this might be just the thing to open up the lines of communication.

but "you know if you pick up that phone, write that letter, send that two way, you gon say some things" that you might regret.  and he might say somethings.  do somethings. plan somethings that you don't really really want to happen.  aren't trying to do.  but something is better than nothing right?  you just want to hear from him. talk to him.  see him. 

or he might not respond at all.  and then you're worse off than you were before you caved to your weaker inner woman.

cause you had said you wasn't gonna text/call/blackberry messenger/gchat/facebook his ass no mo.  and you meant that.  you promised yourself, your 3 best girfriends and baby Jesus himself that you were done.  that it wasn't worth it.  that it wasn't goin nowhere.  that it had been over for weeks, months, years. that you wasn't really feelin him like that to begin with.  so why pass the time or fill the space with something less than? 

and you can't go back on your word.

even if it's that time of the night.  and you're lonely.  and you want to so so badly.  and you could blame it on the alcohol and the hour.

but you can't
you won't
you don't

cause that would be too desparate.  a lil thirsty.  bold and brazen.  un-lady like.  out of order.  and against everything you promised yourself you wouldn't do.

so you reach out, place the phone back on the nightstand. breathe deeply.  close your eyes.  and let common sense quiet that voice inside your head.  let sleep overrule that part of you that wants to give in.

stay strong.  until tomorrow night.

Dam, dam, dam James

So last week Dark & Stormy, y’all remember her right? Riight. Anyway. Last week she sent me this blog post. So basically the writer starts off talking about how beavers "pair up for life and take on the world, with its harsh environment and lurking predators, together." You know building dams and such.

The writer goes on to discuss how her grandparents were married at 20 years old, lived in a room in one of their parents’ home, had kids, saved enough money to buy some land that they leased out and then, "they basically went all beaverish in a rural outpost in the southwest corner of Georgia. They 'dammed up' some land and made a living for generations to come. " And then she wonders if in a day and age when everyone has to have their ish together before they take that big step – will our generation see our golden anniversaries? I mean let’s keep it real, will we see silver anniversaries?

Now anyone who knows me in real life, knows that in an ideal world, I’m all about building dams. So when I expressed my glee over this post, Dark & Stormy said, “but aren’t you doing the exact opposite?” Which is true – I have an undergrad degree, a grad degree, a real ‘job’, bout to be homeowner, etc., etc. And I said, “sure by design. Cause I have to eat. And I’m tired of living at my mama’s house. But if someone I really wanted to marry was like ‘yo let’s get this money TOGETHER,' I’d be all over it.” And I would. But that's not my reality right now.

Now usually when I lament the single life on this here blog, I tend to get a tad overly“bitter” and sorrowful. This is mainly done for effect. I mean it’s like I do be feeling this way, but I don’t stay feeling this way. It’s usually a passing feeling cause something seemingly dramatic has happened in my life to trigger that emotion. And I'm operating on a heightened level and y'all get to hear all about it on Friday! But…

As I get closer to being a homeowner and have been the roller coaster ride that is the home buying process, I realize there’s a reason why people wait til they’re a two to buy a home. There’s a reason why it’s just couples on the HGTV show House Hunters – notice the plural. And why the other HGTV show Property Virgins usually features newlyweds looking for their “dream” home. This house hunting/buying/owning mess is hard. No, it’s arduous. It’s annoying. Frustrating. Oh how I wish I could say, “honey. I have to work. Could you meet the home inspector?” Or, “honey. I’ma need your half of the money for that down payment.” Or, "honey. Can you believe the ish the seller is putting us through? Let's cry on each other's shoulders..."

And when I am going through, all up in, with what has got to be the biggest moment in my life thus far, when I must press on as a one, it makes me feel so conflicted. I’m proud of myself for taking this huge step, but at the same time, I’m like um should I really be taking this huge step alone? Like for real. Do I really need to own a home by myself at the ripe old age of 28? It’s not like I have kids who need a back yard to play. My parents aren’t kicking me out the house. But it feels like, if not now, (when interest rates are low and Obama is handing out 8 stacks) then when? When someone comes to sweep me off my feet and take me away from all this? Ha. These aren't the good ol’ days when people go courtin’ on they porches.

And then I get a little sad cause this is the reality for so many single, childless Black women, who unlike our white counterparts who think them being unmarried is a fluke and the one is still out there – we stop thinking there is a one all together.* And move on accordingly. Climb that corporate ladder. Be that church lady who stay going to everythang. Dress up wayy too fancy to be going out to Friday night dinners with just the girls. Travel the world with our sorors. Become some lil' child's play auntie.** We press on, heads held high, refusing to settle. Still holding out to be wives first, then mothers. Find ourselves dealing with silly nigs on the daily who aren’t ready to build dams together. And yet when we complain about the loneliness/fearfulness/wtf of our situation for two seconds, two seconds, we hear the same, “girl, live yo' life” refrain.

And so we go and do just that. Live our lives. And try to build our own dams alone. The best we can. But sometimes on the hard days, when there's no one to turn to. No one's shoulder to cry on -and daddies don't count. Mamas don't count. Best friends don't count. No one to bring you some wood to contribute to the dam. When you take inventory of your life - and like a never been married 50ish year old woman at Bible Study said the other night, "you go to your empty home on a Friday night and you ain't got no man, no kids, and you working a job you hate. Well..."

Well it's enough to make you want to give up the ghost, put down your wood, walk away, throw up both your hands and scream, damn, damn, damn James! I can't do this no mo'! And then you regroup. Take a deep breath. Return to your senses. And go back to building your life. And take comfort in knowing that you can hire some people to come help you move some of this wood.

That’s my time y’all! Happy Rum Punch Friday!

*My homegirl just told me, "I wonder if I can get used to this, being lonely forever."
** This might be its own post, but I think it's all downhill for single, Black women when we start to be someone's play auntie. Next thing you know 18 years have passed and we're still sending them birthday cards and putting their school pictures on our mantle.

Just cause it's Friday!

somebody for everybody?

george sodini was crazy. like a fox. cray cray as rum punch always says.

the shooting on Tuesday evening at the L.A. Fitness in Pittsburgh had all the markings of a crazy person. walking into a dance class full of women at a gym. cutting off all the lights. pulling out your guns. firing off over 40 rounds. killing your self. plain crazy.

but sodini's blog opens up a whole new world of questions while providing some unsettling answers. what happens when the lonliness of a solitary existence eats away at the core of you? when living the single life extends beyond a few months or years and spans decades? what does the despair of being unable to find someone feel like?

from his blog:

"No girlfriend since 1984, last Christmas with Pam was in 1983. Who knows why. I am not ugly or too weird. No sex since July 1990 either (I was 29). No ----! Over eighteen years ago. And did it maybe only 50-75 times in my life. Getting to think that a woman now would just, uh, get in the way of things. Isolated." december 24 2008

"I see twenty something couples everywhere. I see a twenty something guy with a nice twentyish young women. I think those years slipped right by for me. Why should I continue another 20+ years alone? I will just work, come home, eat, maybe do something, then go to bed (alone) for the next day of the same thing." january 5 2009

i feel kinda sorry for sodini. not to take away anything from the deaths of his victims but what a tortured soul. how can it be that a person comes to believe that no one, no woman likes them? that they are utterly and completely undesirable to the opposite sex? more questions without answers.

The Loneliest Number

“I am not depressed!”

This was my Y-chromosome friend’s retort when I asked him if he would ever go see a movie alone.

Previously in life, I had similar foolish preconceived notions about being out and about in the world all alone. But since I still ain’t married, nor am I part of a couple I recently took myself to a matinee showing of a film I wanted to see because no one I knew was available. Folks, this was a huge step for me! Even though I’m an only child and can do things by my lonesome…movies are a different animal all together. I am that person who enjoys chatting it up when the movie starts…so I wondered what I was going to do to make it through 90 minutes in the dark with no one to share my insightful commentary with. I knew random strangers probably wouldn’t appreciate my “Oh no she didn’t!” exclamations…now that I think about it, I don’t even think my friends like it too much when I do that.

But anyway… To my surprise I had a great time. I laughed out loud and gasped when appropriate. I entertained myself with my witty commentary. All in all, it was like watching television at home. I’m just glad I didn’t miss my chance to do something that I wanted to do!

Though I have found that some men (and by some I really want to say most) have a problem with being all by their lonesome. Once, after church I went to Boston Market to get me chow on and as I was leaving I ran into my friend and his lady. Upon greeting me he started looking around behind me, he then inquired who I had come to eat with. I said no one. You could have knocked him down with a feather ya’ll. “You came here alone?! No one would have come with you?” Well then I explained that I didn’t ask anyone else to come along, but I decided to stop in because I was hungry. But he just couldn’t believe that I was there alone, or that I didn’t have the decency to get my food to-go and eat at home. Okay, of course he didn’t say the word decency…but it really bothered him I was there alone.

And just like my Y-chromosome friend who excused my solo tendencies as some crazy woman behavior. For a man to go out alone he must be disturbed or depressed. Foolishness. Now I haven’t graduated to dining and movie watching during peak date times. Nor have I made plans to vacation solo…yet. But why not? Not everyone is getting married or have friends who are available with shared interests. Like the poor, the single will always be among us. So lets stop assuming that person alone is a depressed, psychotic loser… and maybe just a person determined not to miss out on living.

See You In Seven