better late than never

for the past few months it's been damn near impossible for me to post here.  not for a lack of thoughts and feelings swirling through my head.  not because there hasn't been plenty work dramer to editorialize.  but mostly because i didn't have time.  or i didn't make the time.  seemed like most thursdays of late i had something better to do or somewhere better to be.  and now that we've come to the last post, i regret not having posted on those thursdays past.  because now there won't be anymore thursdays here.

as i looked over the 200 pages or so of what i've written here, i'm amazed at the things that i've shared.  at the secrets i've let slip.  at the raw emotions that i've expressed.  and i am forever grateful for the opportunity to have written here.  to have opened myself up to you, our anonymous 10 to 20 regular readers.  shouts out to mrs. meany for always reading and commenting and to that other girl from jersey for never commenting but always reading!

when we started out, i thought i'd write about legal things since that's what i do for a living.  but actually law related topics took up only a small portion of what i've contributed here.  it wasn't until amaretto shouted me out on wednesday  "for always defending love in all it’s forms!" that i thought ahhh yes, love is the thing!

it's the thing i struggle with expressing some times with friends and family.  it's the thing i hold on to so tight for fear that if i let it show, i will lose it, lose myself.  it's the thing i so often wish i'd said in that moment when i felt most angry or sad or overjoyed.  but that i held inside and thought about over and over again after i walked away.


the beauty of the 5spot is that it has allowed me to show it. even on my perpetually delayed timing.  whatever i have been through, if it stuck with me, kept me up at nights, made me want to tell somebody about it, i could do it here.  i could sit down, think it over, read it back to myself and realize what my true feelings were about it.  and then hit post.

so thank you 5spot.  thank you dark&stormy, couvoisier, amaretto, bellini and rum punch.   thank you for putting up with my quirky inability to capitalize properly.  thank you for reading even when i wasn't quite on schedule, but always on time.

i love ya'll!

what went wrong?

in my lifetime - at times - i feel like i've seen it, done it, or know somebody else who seen it, done it all. and when you factor 6 degrees of separation - well cut that in half - becuz 3 seems to be the magic number for Bellini...

as an adult it happens to be quite commonplace to hear about deteriorating marriages not to mention the marriages that just went kaput after 30 + years.

let's zone in on the latter.

When I first heard of a couple going there separate ways after 40 years I ceded a perplex disposition. I reckoned isn't easier to ride it out for another 20 years together. but is life always about being easy, let alone taking it easy? If you've done 40 what's another 20? I asked my friend whose in-laws had divorced what effect that had on her husband and his siblings (given it was his parents that split up). She's not sure, I'm sure it has her shook. Ironically, all the kids of the divorcees (three of 'em) are all married. But I have to wonder what psychological manifestations have they endured.

Do they feel their marriage is doomed?
If a spouse is unhappy does that warrant callin' it quits?

on Saturday, as I ran my errands, I ran into an aunt of a friend from grade school who inadvertently mentioned that my friend's parents had split. I'm a lil' baffled because I can't recall if they were legally married. but then again after 30 years - common law is in effect... she was quick to blame her sister for the disunion "you know she has issues"... are issues enough? auntie then goes on to share "he's doing fine, he bought himself a truck and found him a nice little spot" so matter-of-factly.

whenever I'm at the hairsalon and my stylist expresses her views on worldy matters... she proclaims for her generation it was all about the kids. she has 3 grown kids with kids of their own and she's always heartened by the feelings her kids have on she and their father embracing their union for the umpteenth time... but i can't help but sense a bit of resentment, quasi-bitterness as it appears she's gettin' robbed of the possibilities of going backwards...

things that make you hmmmm...

cheers,

Bellini

Won't You (Not) Be My Neighbor?

So once, because I’m ignorant, I casually mentioned to a single Black man who was living a life of shiftlessness, getting his hustle on, was an aspiring "rapper," and had a child by some random chick, that there will be a time when Black folk are more divided than we are now. That because of “values” and economics the chasm would widen. He looked at me perplexed. And then I pushed the ignorant meter over and said, “I’m just saying, I’m not going to want my child to play with your child.” Color him offended.

In my mind when I envision my future life, it involves being married with children. And raising those children in a certain manner. Not sheltering them from the world, but making sure they learn certain values, morals, etc. And I am a little fearful of what’s already happening in these here skreets. I work with "inner city" children and their parents on a regular basis – and um let’s just say we’re not on the same page when it comes to child rearing. And so I have decided that we, this would include me and my imaginary family, will live on a compound with other folks I love, trust and respect and their imaginary families.

Although my one friend who’s been invited to the compound said, “so that we don’t look like crazy people who wear long dresses, don’t put on make up and swap husbands, can we call it the cul-de-sac? A cul-de-sac of mini mansions?” Yes! So we shall all live in le cul-de-sac.

A place where while us ladies/mommies will stay flyy, we just might grow our own fruits and vegetables. We won’t go so far as home schooling our kids, but we will have Saturday School, followed by cookouts. Church and then old school, Big Mama’s house, Sunday dinners. Have guest houses for the grandparents. Take field trips into the city so our kids can get some culture. Watch, feed and discipline each other’s children. Take care of each other’s property when a family goes on vacation. Be a community. You know like we used to have back in the day. Before the white man’s welfare broke up the family. Before integration. Before the crack cocaine. When every Black woman had a huzband to herself. Huzzah!

My mother was blessed to have three sisters who lived in the area. So when she and my daddy were off doing their thang, we had built in babysitters – whom mama trusted. Cause she knew they would spank us if we did wrong. Would adhere to the bed time she had set. Feed us only what she deemed healthy. My one aunt watched us every Thursday night for like 10 years. In retrospect I think this was my parents’ date night. My brother and I didn’t notice because we were too busy watching the Cosby Show.

I only have one natural sibling, but I consider my good girlfriends family. My sisters. Or sistas depending on your black-o-meter. And I would find it totally awesome if we all lived in le cul-de-sac together. And raised our children together.

I mean I would love to be able to send my kids to Godmommy Amaretto’s house and know that it will be filled with dancing and laughter and that she’ll read my babies Bible stories. Have them spend the night with Mama Courvoisier where she’ll have them doing arts and crafts (cause mama Rum Punch is not artistically inclined) and then they’ll eat individual servings of mac & cheese that she baked in muffin pans. Send them to Aunt Bellini’s house where she’ll be playing 90’s jams and telling my kids about how she believed in a Black man from Hawaii long before Mama Rum Punch ever did. Leave them at Dark and Stormy’s house, where world music will fill the air, Bob Marley on a record player, and she’ll be breaking down the lyrics. Send them to Auntie Mint Julep’s where she’ll be keeping it RBG and telling my kids never, ever, ever step outside your own house if the police come to your door.

Ahhh yes, le cul-de-sac, a place where, we are family is not just a song, but a way of life. Where people got your back. Where everybody knows your name. Where we set the standards. And said standard is always excellence. So, favorite ladies in my life, I hope y’all are “looking” for y’alls husbands and stacking your pennies cause mama is on the hunt for some land. Hmmm…. And I guess a huzband of my own.

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

525,600 Minutes

So this is my third post Thanksgiving post. Two years ago I wrote about Big Mamas. Or the lack thereof. Last year, my post was cut short, because someone had broken into my car. And that leads me to the point of this year’s post. Dang really – have two years really gone by?!? I don’t even know what I was thinking about two years ago – unless I read my old posts. And my car being broken into a year ago seemed like such a HUGE deal – if only I had known that months later it would actually get stolen. Lol. And when I think of these things it causes me to wanna break out into song and start singing, “525,600 minutes. How do you measure, measure a year?”

"525,600 minutes, 525,000 moments so dear. 525,600 minutes - how do you measure, measure a year? In daylights, in sunsets, in midnights, in cups of coffee. In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife. In 525,600 minutes - how do you measure a year in the life?" Seasons of Love, Rent the Musical

Last November I was unemployed, living with my mama, knee deep in like with this man. A year later – I work a job that I love, I have bought a house, and I am now waist deep in dislike with that nygga. Trying to get it down to the knees though. Lol. And so how does one measure a year like that? One can’t count the joy and ignore the pain. One can’t focus solely on the many tears that were shed and forget that there was lots of laughter there too. And one must be grateful for the good, bad and the that sho’ll was ugly – cause it’s all there for a reason.

And so I measure this year in the ordinary. In the everyday. Not in the extremes, but in the things that kept me sane and grounded. The simple things, the lovely, simple things. My grandmama’s Thursday fried chicken and biscuit dinners; weekly Bible Study with my old folk; my daily gmail chats with Mint Julep full of rants, philosophies, and gripes on men folk; great trips with 5 spot; dozens of little girls from the hood telling me how much they love the program I provide thus making me love my job even more; this here blog; my mama’s smile; my parents empty bed that I climb into when I’m feeling blue to watch TV or nap; lazy Saturday afternoons with marathons of The Game; my three aunties whose houses always serve as refuge and whose ears are always open; my daddy calling me beautiful; my brother and I sharing a laugh at anything, everything and nothing in particular; my drive to and from work that serves as me-time where I sing loudly and dance to my favorite songs - regardless of if white people are lookin at me; free drinks from my bartender boos; dinners with the girls where things start with a giggle, then become a laugh, then guffaws; my mama and granny seeing me off every morning like it’s my first day of school telling me to have a great day; my afternoon tea; evening TV watching; annual family gatherings and regular church services. And in all of that ordinary, in all of that everyday, there were unexpected lessons. But even better there was love. Lots of love. And for that I am thankful.

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

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.

Soul mate, smoul mate

So Amaretto kicked it off with her post this week on the ‘one’. And then Mint Julep picked it up with the ‘twos’. And I’m going to make things even more complicated with the ‘sines, cosines, and tangents.’

Sine - Is there such thing as a soul mate? If so, what does it look like?

Cosine - And what if two people think that the same person is their soul mate? What happens? Can they battle it out in the streets? Have an old fashioned duel? Does the one who eventually gets that person have sole claim to the soul mate title? What if the person who didn’t “win” still thinks that person was their soul mate?

Tangent - And if everyone can’t/doesn’t get together with their soul mate in this lifetime – will they at least, if for only a brief moment encounter that person sometime, somewhere along the way? Would that be a glimmer of hope or just cruel and unusual punishment to think that you had met your soul mate, but couldn’t be with him forever?

Due to recent sit’chations in my life – these questions have been going round and round in my brain. And then I saw that damn 500 Days of Summer movie - and I’m not using ‘damn’ in the sense that it was a bad movie, but more in the sense that it left me feeling even more uncertain about this thing called the love and all its antecedents – 'the one,' 'soul mates,' etc, etc.

And so I ask these questions because I doesn’t know. Like at all. I used to think the concept of soul mate was kinda corny. I always envisioned it as very ethereal. And intangible. A little something like this: “A soul mate is someone who has locks that fit our keys, and keys to fit our locks. When we feel safe enough to open the locks, our truest selves step out and we can be completely and honestly who we are; we can be loved for who we are and not for who we’re pretending to be. Each unveils the best part of the other. No matter what else goes wrong around us, with that one person we’re safe in our own paradise. Our soul mate is someone who shares our deepest longings, our sense of direction. When we’re two balloons, and together our direction is up, chances are we’ve found the right person. Our soul mate is the one who makes life come to life.” ~Richard Bach

Uh yeah. What is this mess? I gotta be honest and say he lost me when he started talking about balloons.

I read that quote multiple times and was unsatisfied, so I went to a practical place on the internets for an answer. Dictionary.com defined soul mate as: Noun, a person with whom one has a strong affinity. And: n. One of two persons compatible with each other in disposition, point of view, or sensitivity.

Well hot damn! That sounds easy enough. I’ve been compatible with certain gentlemen in those particular areas in my lifetime. And yet I wouldn’t call any one of them a soul mate. I mean we ain't together for a reason. Several reasons. There has to be something deeper, between y'all right? A real, for real, nothing can come between us connection, right? I mean that's what I've heard. And so I clicked on a few more links and found this: Soul mates are people who bring out the best in you. They are not perfect but are always perfect for you. ~Author Unknown

Hmmm… Mayhap we’re getting warmer. Or are we? These could all be right. And they could all be completely wrong. Cause when I put the word soul mate into google, like with all searches, the results were all over the place. There were tips on how to find your soul mate. Quotes about the meaning and definition of soul mate. Answers to the my very own question: what is a soul mate. Information on soul mate marriages – which I guess implies that we all don't marry our soul mates. Tee hee.

Everyone has an answer. A suggestion. A scientific study. But for a girl who felt like she was really close to something good, was ready to leap without looking, totally go for it, only to be blind sided, have it slip from my grasp and then be moved completely beyond my reach, and then go through the agony of being benched and having to watch from the sidelines while trying to rise above it all and not hate and/or envy the new star player who ain't even a first round draft pick (oh wait that ain't right - see there's that hate) - these definitions, explanations, reasonings don't bring comfort. Or encouragement. Or hope.

They just make me cock my head to the side, purse my lips together and think, "o rly? That's how you feel in your spirit about this whole soul mate thing? That's how it's supposed to be? Sounds like some bullshyt to me." Until I found this quote during my research: Lust is easy. Love is hard. Like is most important. ~Carl Reiner

Three simple sentences. Succintly put and totally on point. An easy mantra to call on, remember and agree with, regardless of if you believe in the concept of soul mates, the 'one' and everything in between. Something to hold onto when these nigs is actin' a fool. And when it's one bad date after another. Or no dates at all. When the biological clock is ticking and settling seems like the best road to take. When he's just good enough. Too good. Or ain't shyt. When things look bleak. And when there's promise. When you just know. Or are completely unsure. When you're waiting patiently. Or totally consumed. And when you're just trying to figure it out. All over again.

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

the twos

amaretto got me to thinking about "how does the story of the one go? how should it go?"...


as i said in my comment, "it has to be a mutual 'thinkin he/she the one' or 'the twos' perhaps is what ima start calling it. the two of you have to click together, mutually, at the same time." and as i thought more about it, the story of a friend of mine who seemingly has found "the one" came to mind.

about a year ago, my friend tom* graduated school and moved to a new city to start a new job. on this new job he met an australian woman, nicole* who had come from her homeland to do an internship with his office. they became fast friends but unfortunately for tom, nicole had a boy back home. from the start, things clicked for tom. he knew he liked her but because of nicole's situation he played the friend role, unsure of whether nicole felt the same way he did. and so tom and nicole got to know each other very well and bonded over their mutual commitment to and passion for their work.

tom held his feelings inside while being the best friend he could be. and so it came to pass that nicole's time in the states drew to a close. over dinner during her last night in town tom and nicole reminisced on the joys of their friendship, saying their mutual goodbyes, not knowing if they'd ever see each other again. afterward, tom went home and cried (yes, cried) at the loss of his good friend (and the woman who might have been the one).

nicole went back to her boy in australia but she and tom stayed in touch regularly. then out of the blue one day nicole told tom, "listen, i have some things going on here, and i need to not talk to you for a spell." tom's heart sank at the thought but he occupied his time with the demands of work and the fellowship of friends. and for three weeks he heard nothing from nicole. and then while on a week's vacation in hawaii tom heard a word. nicole reached out and after the small talk nicole suggested, "come on over to australia." and so he did.

it was during tom's time in australia that the click really happened. simultaneously. nicole confessed that when she first met tom she really liked him as well. that things had clicked for her when they first met but because of her relationship back home she didn't jump in. nicole shared that she and the boyfriend had trouble before she left for the states but that she wanted to make sure that she gave that relationship one last try. and that the reason for the breakup wasn't tom. and she confessed that after that last dinner she cried too!

and so, tom said to me over drinks one night, that was how he met "the one." that when he clicked with nicole it wasn't hard in the sense of how they related to each other, just difficult because didn't know if she felt the same although he kinda suspected but didn't know for sure how he felt. it was easy. like home. kinda like jill scott's easy conversation...

I like that I can talk to you

And you seem to adore it

I like that I can tell you

Exactly how I feel

I like that you don’t

Look at me in that confused kind of way when

The thoughts are running through my mind

And I can’t seem to find

The right thing to say

Ohh this feels nice

Our easy conversation

Ohhh this feels so right

Our easy conversation

Ohh ohh ahhhh

This feels nice

I really like when you speak to me

You never front

You always tell me straight up

*names changed to protect the lovers

The Naked Truth

Ladies, I said ladies! You ever hopped up out the bed, turned your swag on, took a look in the mirror - butt ass nekkid (maybe with a hot ass pair of pumps on) and said, "Damn! I'm a bad bytch!"?

Even though you ain't even at the size you wanna be? Even though you're soft in places where Beyonce might be hard? Even though you have a lil' cellulite, your booty jiggles and your girls don't sit as high as they once did? Even though society might try to tell you otherwise - you ever just looked at yourself in the mirror and thought you were the shyt? Not on some 'I'm better than you'. But just on some I love myself. I have. I've even done a little dance in the mirror. Posed for the cameras, now click. And it feels good.

And for those of you who haven't - try it someday. Take a good look at yourself, take it all in, and then embrace what you see. Last Fourth of July, I put up Outkast's Liberation, cause too many times we as Black people feel we still ain't free in this country. But then we got us a President and apparently we'z free now. Tee hee. So I'm putting the song up again this year for a different reason, for us ladies to focus on the following words: "Can't worry 'bout what another nygga think, now that's liberation and baby I want it!" So I reiterate what Courvoisier said a few weeks ago. Love yourself bytches.* And I'm out this mothafcuka. Drops mic and goes back to enjoying a drank in New Orleans with the other ladies from the 5 Spot.

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

*And I'm only calling you bytch cause I don't know your names individually.

Love Training

I will be in New Orleans in less than one week celebrating another Fourth of July with the one and only, Ms. Mint Julep. We have spent the past two Fourth holidays together and they have been quite interesting to say the least. Both years I have gone out of town with plans to just chill and have a good time for the night/weekend. And yet on both occasions, I have met what I thought at the time was a great catch of man, so numbers were exchanged, and a long distance dance/courtship/what the fcuk have I gotten myself into began.

First came the tingly feelings. The fun and thrill of getting to know a new person. The walking on sunshine. The like, the lust and I wonder if this could one day be love thoughts. But then came the drama. Right on time and all the way live! The miscommunication. Or lack thereof. The muhfcuka is you crazy? The this can’t be life moments. No really, this can’t be my life.

Heart was splintered. Tears were shed. Cussing was done. Fcuk that nygga was the refrain from friends and my mama. Teedra Moses songs stayed on repeat. Prayers were uttered. Sadness settled in and tried to make a home. And I started thinking that me and “celebrating” this thing called Independence Day were cursed. Got me vowing that next week, I will tell any man I meet in New Orleans that, naw I don’t have a phone. No email either. Nope, no facebook page. And a sista lives on Mars, so rent you a spaceship if you tryna come see me.

But seriously, as this July Fourth approaches, bursting with possibilities, I find myself looking back at how what were supposed to be simple out of town jaunts to have a little fun turned into more than I could have ever imagined. Thinking how I then put my expectations on the totally unexpected. And then witnessed in awe what did and did not come into fruition. Remarking on how so much can happen in just one year. Let alone two. How things can grow. Then shift. Mutate. Change completely. Become unrecognizable. End. How you can think you’ve got it all figured out, only to make the same mistakes. And then wonder if you are becoming the definition of insanity.

While rehashing the most recent dissolved relationship with a friend, I sighed, “Well I guess you live and you learn. And she responded, “And then you get luvs.” “Perfection,” I said. Cause even though it’s from a diapers commercial, these experiences have me feeling like I’ve been wearing “love” pull ups. Seems that I wasn’t quite ready for the real thing. Had to go through some shyt, just to be changed.

Having to wear these training pants before getting the big girl panties has me sorting out in a practical, grown up way, what I want and need from a relationship. What I deserve. Truly (and finally) understanding that communication is key. That being true to one’s feelings is crucial. That compromise is a four letter word. That this grown up, real life shyt is no joke. That every event is preceded by a sign. We’re all clairvoyant if we'd only know it. © Toni Cade Bambara That if a man want you, he will choose you and if he ain’t really chose you yet, then you ain’t the one. That you can pontificate all you want on what you would do if this or that happened, but when placed in said situation, you may in fact let your own self down. That you think you know, but you have no idea.

And so whilst at the time, it felt like I was really going through it, that my heart was shattered beyond repair, me thinks (and have decided) these luv pullups were actually padding for when I fell, to ensure that I wouldn’t be bruised for life. Wouldn’t hold grudges. Wouldn’t fight people in the streets. They have served as protection from leaks of cynicism and jadedness. Kept me dry. Sane. And most importantly still hopeful. Hopeful that there is someone out there just for me. And that all of these experiences, no matter how bad they were, no matter how much it hurt, in the end have a purpose - to mold me into a woman who will know better. Do better. Live better. Expect better. And get better. Got me now believing that you live and you learn. And then you get love. Real love.

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

Epilogue - Everyone has their own memories of HIM. The King of Pop. Mine are: my cousin babysitting us and playing the Thriller record (RECORD!!!) and her making me sing Paul McCartney's part from the Girl is Mine over and over and over again. Playing the Motown Christmas record (RECORD!!!) as a child, beginning right after Thanksgiving and loving every Jackson 5 song. Loving that lean in the Smooth Criminal video. Amaretto putting in the Thriller CD (CD!!) when nothing was on the radio and letting that joint ride! Riding the train to work with Baby be Mine on repeat. And grooving to my all time favorite MJ song that always brightens my mood, makes me smile and then wanna get up and dance. Rest in peace Michael Jackson. You were a soundtrack to my childhood. Loved by people of all generations, races, and cultures. The best who ever did it. You will be missed.

Some Sugar In My Bowl

When I was working at the skrip club, an older gentleman (and by older I mean, 65, if not older) used to come in and try to holler. His “game” consisted of the following: “you know my wife passed away from cancer. And I need someone to take care of me. I have a nice house with a pool in the back. You should come over. You would like it.” Yes, the pool in the back was the selling point. And I would be remiss if I didn't mention that he was a shytty tipper and he never bought me a drink. I mean as my momma would say, “show me that you care.” But as usual I digress…

So, the problem with men hitting on you at work is a. you can’t run away from them b. you will definitely see them again and c. you depend on them for your livelihood, so you have to be somewhat nice to them. So you have to just dangle that ‘maybe, someday, I will take you up on this ridiculous great offer’ carrot. My usual response was, “that sounds really nice. But I don’t know… Um. Do you need another drink?” And let me tell you this man was persistent. Even told me about the foundation he started for his dead wife. I mean if that don’t just tear at the heart strings! And I’d politely decline his offers each time. But I’m not gon’ lie, sometimes I wondered “what if I did just go ‘head and let him be my sugar daddy…” What would that be like? What would that entail exactly? Could I, you know, do it – pun intended.

Well one day he came in with a woman in her early to mid thirties. She was clearly a hood chick, a lil rough around the edges. So I said to him, “Is that your girlfriend?” His response, “Nah, that’s my wife. You didn’t want me.” Well damn! You right about that one! But who knew it was gonna play out like this?

That night I looked at this chick 1/3 in awe for getting with this old dude. 1/3 with respect for taking advantage of the benefits and rewards of being with this old dude. I mean she was probably living the life – or at least a step up from her life. Money, car, clothes, a pool in the back to chill at all day long. And then 1/3 wtf that she had actually gotten with this old dude. I mean really, how did that happen? F, love him, did she even like him? Did she have “sex” with him? Ewwwww…. Had to get that thought outta my mind. What did his kids think of the union? How long would this last? I mean I ain’t sayin she a gold digger but… let's just say I don't think he was what came to mind when she first envisioned having a huzband.

I don’t know y’all. There’s a part of me that believes in marriage for practical reasons: two incomes are always better than one, the tax incentives, merging retirement accounts and stock portfolios, life insurance payoffs (heh heh). But then there’s the part of me that believes in marriage for the fairytale, romanticized reasons: love, companionship, genuine attraction, enjoying that person’s company, a true friendship, wanting to grow old together, etc., etc...

However, as I get up in age, and it seems like the pool of available men is shrinking, causing me to sometimes drift into f-it mode, got me contemplating throwing out the fairytale reasons, and seriously considering a slightly (or quite) older, wealthier man who would “take care of me”. Financially and whatnot. But then I wonder what other parts of me would have to be compromised to live this life. And could I deal with it? Could I live with myself? And would it really matter, would I even care about pesky little things like scruples and this thing called love if I were draped in Dior and dripping with diamonds? Tee hee. For real though, could I exchange my values for some financial peace of mind?

And yes, I know that things aren't always what they appear to be. That the grass is always greener. That we could lose all our money in the stock market and I would be back at square one. Or he might not leave me in the will and then our house would be foreclosed on and I'd be screwed. That I'd have to maybe one day change his diapers and whatnot. But I'm just saying, sometimes this lil song plays in my head, "If you think you're lonely now. Wait until you 35..." And, like Carrie Bradshaw, I can't help but wonder will there be a time in my life when I'm willing to give up some of myself, my wants, my desires, what I thought mattered most, all in the name of comfort and security? I mean this life gets rough. Lonely. Hard. Expensive. And sometimes you just want someone else in it with you. A little sugar in your bowl...

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

ENJOY YOUR MEMORIAL DAY WEEKEND! BE SAFE AND DON'T DRINK AND DRIVE!

What's Your Girlfriend Got to Do With Me?

So, sometimes as a single person, you have to hear about the love lives of others. Sometimes, no make that most times, against your will. And sometimes, no make that often times these conversations make you want to kill yourself. Or if that’s too drastic, search for the nearest emergency exit you can rush through. Or start to fake stomach cramps so you can leave. Or just have the testicular fortitude to say, “no thank you to where this conversation is going” And then get up and walk away.

Now I’m not talking about when you and your friends get together to discuss current relationships, prospects, or lack of love, sex or anything in between. I’m talking about people, men in particular, who feel the need to flaunt their girlfriend in front of your face. For example…

I went to this cookout and I see this guy I used to date. We exchange that ‘what are you doing now’ banter. And for real, for real, we could have parted ways right there. Thrown up the deuces to one another and said, “see ya when I see ya.” But nooo… He hits me with, “so are you seeing anyone?” But it wasn't in that I’m interested kinda way. Let’s do this one mo’gin type of way. It was more in the way a little kid has a huge secret about somebody that they just HAVE to share with the first person they see. They just can’t hold it any longer. But they wanna make you guess what it is. And you just don’t want to play that game.

“Noooo. Not seeing anyone right now,” I drag out. And then. Long pause. We stand there looking at each other for a few seconds. And then inevitably, I feel/think that to be polite, I should probably ask him this question back. Because sometimes I'm ignorant and I don't reciprocate a question. And people be gettin all mad and stuff. On some, 'don't you wanna know about me?' Sigh. I guess...
“So. Are you dating anyone?”
“Why yes. I have a girlfriend.”
“Really? That’s nice.” Inner monologue: Ok. I should ask him a question about her. Shouldn’t I? But what should I ask? Why do I care? Wait a minute. Is he talking right now? About her? What is he saying? I should probably pay attention, so I can ask follow up questions. There may be a pop quiz. She may be here later tonight and he'll introduce us. And I can't ask her questions if he's already told me stuff about her... Oh shyt. He’s still talking. About her. I should focus. Oh who is that guy? He looks kinda cute. Hmmm... My drink is geting low. I need another. But he's still talking. Why are all these bugs around me? They are gonna tear me up. I should focus. Focus. Focus. Right now...

“Yeah she’s ………….. etc., etc., etc. And she's also. ........ And she's from.... And we met ..... And we've been dating since ....” And I sat and sipped my vodka and pineapple and cried on the inside.

Have you ever seen that Sex and the City when Sarah Jessica Parker aka Carrie first meets Jack Berger. And they have instant “chemistry.” And then when she asks him to escort her to her book signing, he says, “sorry my girlfriend’s parents are coming into town.” Shock and awe. So when she gathers with her friends, she’s like “how come he didn’t tell me he had a girlfriend? I hate when guys don’t tell you right away!” And Samantha says, “yeah but you don’t wanna find out too soon. I hate when they’re all, ‘I have a girlfriend.’ Calm down I just asked if that seat was taken!”

Church, synagogue! Check it. True story. I went to my cousin’s 30th birthday party. I saw this guy from high school. I said, “what’s up, Wesley?* How’s life of a grown up?” We commiserate briefly. And then silence. Which is totally cool with me cause I'm only still standing here cause I’m waiting for the bartender to bring me my drank.** And then he says, “Yeah. My girlfriend couldn’t come tonight because she had to do something for school.” Yes it really went like that. Yes there really was no segue. Yes I really just stood there and was like, “uh ok. Good to see you.” Inner monologue: Where the hell is my stoli and sprite? Ahh here it is. Now, don't say anything else to him. Don't even look him in the eye. Don't smile or nod. Just walk away. Right. Now.

I am perplexed. I don’t mind people wanting to talk about their love. I mean maybe if I were in a relationship, I too would shout it from the mountaintops. At this point, if and when I get a man, I will probably stop people on the street and be like, “yo. Let me tell you about my man. He is the absolute greatest. No, don't walk away. I have to tell you abot the cutest thing he did last night!!" And then follow them until they pull out their cell phones to call the police.

But a la Carrie Bradshaw, I wonder, are men rapidly telling me (and other women) about their girlfriends because they don’t trust themselves or because they don’t want me/us to push up on them? Is it like let me put this out in the atmosphere so all parties involved are clear about what can and cannot happen, before she seduces me, gives me a lap dance, offers to suck my dyck, tells me she wants to marry me, have my babies and run my bath every night, and then it’ll be way too late to tell her I have girlfriend… Or maybe they are really telling themselves, cause they see something they might could like, and they gotta remind themselves, "oh yeah I got a girlfriend." And they just happen to say it aloud.

I don’t know. Maybe it’s because I know that I have no interest in these guys, so I’m like ‘you ain’t got to worry bout me trying to get with you.' I do remember this guy I was crushing on hoard told me (seemingly) way too late that he had a girlfriend. And I was slightly devastated at the time. But now I rather appreciate it. I mean we had good conversations and it wasn’t until I showed my hand that he let me know what he was holding.

If he had told me off the break, I probably wouldn’t have even really conversed with him. I mean if he's off limits, why waste my time? Yes, that's how I get down. I mean we can make small talk, but there's no sense in putting on my Rum Punch ballet, tap and jazz show if you're not going to fully appreciate it. But this guy and I had great convo. He made me laugh. And when he told me he was with somebody, I thought, "of course. That woman ain't no fool. You're a great catch!" And then I kept it moving. But maybe too many women don't do that. And mayhap that's the problem...

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

*Name has been changed to protect the foolish

** I really don't drink as much as this post implies... Or do I?

one mo'gin

photo courtesy of Karen Cunningham for the nytimes

i'm a big fan of the "come back around love". i don't know if that's what other people call it but in my head that's the perfect name for it. you know when two people meet, they click and everything just seems so right. but for whatever reason (timing, other loves, career commitments, fear) they can't make it work. and they part, looking longingly back down the road at one another.

but later down that road, maybe many years , marriages and kids later, they pass each other on the street, some things have changed, some's good, some for the bad, but seeing you reminds me of the precious times we had. she's unhappy and she miss the shit they used to do. he miss her smile, her mouth, her laughter, he never bumped into her kind before or after... that's the "come back around love." i think it's so romantic and i seem to find examples of it all the time.

enter michelle and david, this week's featured couple on the nytimes vows page:

these two met at 23 while taking a class together. she "just knew I was going to marry him.” he thought “[t]he passion was going at warp speed...[t]here was nothing more I could have wanted.” despite all the butterflies they didn't stay together.

Even so, he felt he was too young to settle down and suggested that they see other people.

A pained look appeared on her face. He said, “I remember walking away thinking: ‘You’re an idiot. This isn’t what you really want.’ But at that age you just keep walking.”

over the next few years after their initial meeting, they fell into an on-again, off-again pattern that ended in 1992 when she announced her engagement to someone else.

*cue jill scott*


"you know what this is, you knew what it was..."

or did he? sadness...

there in lies the risk of the "come back around love." as with michelle and david, either party can (and will) move on to someone else. she went on to flourish professionally as a marketing director and flounder personally through two failed marriages. he did the same, marrying once and having two sons. luckily for them, these relationships didn't work out and they found their way back to each other.

but reading their story made me think about all the drama that may be attached to the "come back around love." how much "back around" is too much? michelle ran through two marriages before they reconnected. it seems like they both had hard lives while they were away from each other. think about all the money spent on weddings, alimony, and such. what about all these young kids, the drama of blended families, the stress of being a stepparent. would they have been better off just trying to make it work when they first met? would they still be together if they hadn't taken the time to grow in between away from each other?

these are the questions, the questions, that's what it's all about...

in my heart i still like the idea of the "come back around love" although it clearly presents a world of problems. i'm a right now kinda girl so i don't think i'd have the patience to wait for a man to decide whether he wants to be with me. but it's still sweet. i'll still go awwww when a friend tells me about how she ran into him at homecoming last year and they fell right back into each other, like they did when they first met at market friday in '01. it makes for a good story, just like michelle and david. but at what cost?

what say you?

think on it as d'angelo sings...

love's triangle

I'm always intrigued by the notion that a person believes they can be in love with two people at the same time. WTF?

I don't think that's true. I think when it comes down to the wire and both people stand in front of you -- you will lean towards one. And really, if we want to get to the nitty-gritty of things I think there is something selfish about the indecisive member of the party. You know there mo-- probably want their cake and eat it too -- so to speak. And when the guilty member of the party gets fouled up and caught red-handed and the universe allows them to reap what they sow by having the two innocent parties walk out of their life, then we know the boomerang theory is in full effect.

However, some people are still convinced that you can be in love with two people. Particularly, when the scenario is you're in a committed relationship and perhaps you're missing your ex. Obviously, the guilty party doesn't need a relationship on their plate -- it's just adding to the confusion. So, I say all this to say, those who believe that you can be in love with two people, have not presented a firm argument that discredits my belief. But in the event you can, bring it on.

cheers,

Bellini

Love is Never Straight Forward, Pt. Duex

Everybody has a type...I like the older-ambitious-well-groomed-lovely-smile type but this isn't about me is it? (chuckle) Back to Shauna and John....

Separated or recently divorced, seeking male attention, ready to move on, wanting to prove ones worth, looking to have someone legitimize their significance in a relationship. Not necessarily looking for a relationship so the normal rules of courtship don't apply. However, the emotions still come into play. The I-love-yous and the Do-you-love-mes help to keep this charade going. This is John's type.

Shauna's name is not really important because one, it is insignificant and two, she like the others are all interchangeable. OOoo-ouch! Now that might seem harsh but it is true. John might have a type but the Shaunas need him. He provides the confidence needed to get back on the street without even knowing it. The problem is getting the Shaunas to realize "Baby-girl you are ready! You owe John nothing but a simple thank you and a smile. It was fun while it lasted but you got a new pair of shoes now!"

The Shaunas tell me "But what if this is true love? What if it is more than a charade?"

You won't know that until you move on Shauna. You won't know if it is really true love or late night fvcking until you move on. I am still a believer that real love is in true friendship and true friendship is timeless. And as we all know relationships sometimes come to an end. If John is a true friend he isn't going anywhere.

Trust me...I know and I never had to tell him I love him. (chuckle) And yes, we're not doing the late night tango anymore either. We are just friends. Friends that hopefully can talk about every and anything one day.

Hold my hand Shauna, let's take a step back, everyone thinks you are fabulous, including John. And this is why he doesn't play by the normal rules of courtship. You thought you understood but you should have a better understanding now that I have introduced you to the others.

John is not a bad guy...he is just a John...oops I mean a man. (sorry John it was just too easy...chuckle) But seriously, John has his own wants and needs that I can't really speak for but I am sure they are valid.

Accept John for who he is...if he is hesitant to give you what you ask for or need and can't articulate why (as you mentioned in Pt. 1)...continue to make decisions on my your own accord (i.e that divorce) and continue to move at your own speed, as will John.

You got to respect the heart, much luv until next week...peace :)

we just don't care...

with valentine's day right around the corner, all things love have been springing up on every corner, in every drug store aisle. big ass balloons blocking out the light, crushing down on you and getting in your way as you try to make your way to the feminine products aisle. and then you run into a couple of teenagers hiding behind the magazines making out. yuck! (or not).

pda's. public displays of affection. the great cultural divide.

once upon a time (during my golden years of middle school) i thought pda's were never appropriate, at any time, in any place, with any body involved. yeah it was a bit extreme but i felt it was the best rule. a total ban, like prohibition, was the only workable solution because if you let a few situations and circumstances slip through the cracks, all hell would break loose and folks would be gettin' busy on the streets.

but as with most things, i've mellowed out a bit from my all or nothing stance on pda's (plus drugs, guns and a whole host of other things). i think pda's are ok. more than ok...they are pretty f'ing awesome. in fact i was involved in my very first pda a few days ago. it was the first time that i kissed (like tongue-me-down-kissed) someone in a crowded room (and on a public street) with other people watching (and wondering) and i just didn't care. it was wonderful, liberating and delicious. le sigh...

and it made me wonder, why had i been so diametrically opposed to pda's before? was it the hater in me, that because i wasn't gettin any pdaction, no one else could either? or were my judgments based on the couple: how they looked, how old they were, their respective sexes, the setting, the amount of saliva exchanged, the time of the month, etc.? me no know.

what i do know is that there still exists for me a line between acceptable (and enjoyable) pda's and exhibitionism. the line begins to form when paws become involved, groping breasts, legs, in between legs, etc. then i need ya'll to get a room. for realz.

but where is that boundary for you? query that as we approach valentine's day cause folks will be gettin' their pda on with increased frequency over the next few days.

happy pre-vday everyone. i leave you with j. legend and his interpretation of the sitchy-ation (c) mrsmeany.

What's That You Listening To? (Part1)

"Good Morning…"

For those of you who know Courvoisier well, you know I don’t get lovey-dovey much but when I DO…I do so deeply. We are talking tears and all! So before I get started with the point of my post this morning, I want to give you a little background. I never FULLY understood the idea of being a FAN-attics until this man...Mr. JOHN LEGEND.

John you are truly talented. Not talented like you have one or two tracks but talented like I feel you brotha. You seem real and truthful, sometimes even funny. You make a sista want to curl up next to her man and say “I understand that even though you do some things that seem heartless, it doesn’t mean you don’t have feelings.” Now I don’t know if that is a ploy to get me to forgive or just apart of his game but John reminds me that MEN are human.

I could go on and on about how he was an English major at UPenn and how his lyrics move me, etc...but I won't. (chuckle) Read/listen for yourself.

Case 1 - ORDINARY PEOPLE from Get Lifted

“We're just ordinary people,

We don't know which way to go,

Cuz we're ordinary people.”

Are we not ordinary people? No one has love figure out, forget all these manuals and self help books out there. Love is a trial and error baby. (Tear number 1)

Case 2 – COMING HOME from Once Again

This song shook me to the core because although this song is about the return of a child from war (which I, in no shape or fashion can relate to) How do you not feel the love? Watch for yourself. (Tears number 2 & 3)

Case 3 – And lastly, This Time from Evolver
The lyrics speak for themselves. (Tear number 4)

"This time I want it all,

This time I want it all,

Showing you all the cards,

Giving you all my heart,

This time I'll take the chance,

This time I'll be your man,

I can be all you need,

This time its all of me.

Last time I wasn’t sure,

This time I will give you more,

I’m more mature,

Ill show you,

Last time I didn’t know,

I messed up let her let you go,

I need you, don’t say no."

Ahhh...makes me want to play all of his albums all over again, all day and I will. Did I mention how much I love John Legend's music? (chuckle)

Much luv until next week...peace :)

Courvoisier

There's Something About Firstloves...

There are three songs that without a doubt will make me think of my ex. They are: Total’s, Kissing You; 112’s, Cupid and Lauryn Hill’s, The Sweetest Thing. Yes, all songs circa 1996-7. Because this ex who always pops into my mind when I hear these songs, as it has become the unofficial soundtrack of our relationship, was my first real boyfriend, my first love.

We attended the same church. He was the son of a preacher man who loved to walk on the wild side. Yes, he was a “bad boy.” I mean as bad as you can get growing up in the suburbs. He had flirted with me numerous times, but I had paid him no mind. I was at the end of my freshman year, he is junior year, so he seemed sooo old to me. But he was oh so fine. And all the girls loved him. For realz. You remember how it was back then. Anyway. One Friday we got to talking while at a youth function at the church. As we left, I making my way home, he on his way to the go-go club because for him the night was still young, he said to me, “is your number in the church directory?” “Yes,” I said. “I’ma call you.” I didn’t believe him. That was Friday. He called me that Sunday. My older cousin who lived with us answered the phone. “You wanna speak to who,” she asked quizzically. I knew instantly that it was him. We spoke on the phone that Sunday night about who knows what – school, parents, why the sky is blue. And we kept right on talking, for the next few days, months, a year. And somewhere in there we were official boyfriend and girlfriend. And I was in love. And damn I still remember this twelve years later. Ask anyone, Rum Punch don’t remember nathin.

But with him I remember conversations until dawn. Dates to the movies and “fancy” chain restaurants. Sneaking around to see him because I knew my mom would think that he was too old for me. Reading my writing to him. Kissing him in his car. Cutting school and waiting for him to pick me up because he had a half day schedule. Accusations of cheating and silent treatment. A sweet birthday card he gave me that I have now lost. Dreams of being together forever and ever and ever. Him telling me that he loved me. Me saying it back. Him breaking my heart. Me being crushed. But always enthralled with him.

Over the years we would lose touch with one another, see each other again, and fall right back into each other’s arms. I knew that it would never work. He was not right for me. We belonged to two entirely different worlds. I could never come down to his and he wouldn’t dare come up to mine. But I couldn’t quite shake him because whenever he looked at me, really looked at me with that come hither look in his eyes, I would melt and become 15 years old all over again. And maybe he too was transported back to that time we had been together, so many years ago.

Even as I had other boyfriends, suitors, lovers, there was always something about him. I was still connected to him. And I feel that in some way I always will be. Maybe it’s because at 15, love was just a word and that yummy/soft feeling you got when that person was around you. It was pure. Simple. Not what it becomes as you get older. Tainted. Filled with conditions. Suspicious. Scary. Uncertain. Difficult. Weighed down with baggage. Brewing with needs, expectations and hopes. The definition expands and contracts, depending on who you ask, how you feel, where you been, where you trying to go, what kinda love you want, thus making things more and more complicated.

But, shit at fifteen, it was easy. That boy, who is now a man, was delicious and dangerous. Being with him was fulfilling and free. It was beautiful and plain. It was a girl giving her heart away for the first time, without knowing all the consequences that come with that. The price that has to be paid. The lessons that have to be learned. A girl with her heart in her hand, her hand extended to him, happily/foolishly/effortlessly giving it to him. Expecting and needing little in return. And oh so content with what she received. Ahhh to first loves!

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

What do you say, Courvoisier? (Part 1)

Sometimes you have to kick Monday off with a little fun...Brenda needs our help.

Dear Courvoisier,

For the past six months, I have been trying not to become emotionally involved with my buddy. However, our lovemaking has become increasingly more intense. Instead of calling on Jesus, like I use to…I now scream his name. Even though I have shown an additional interest in our lovemaking my buddy on the other hand, insist on leaving immediately after, even when I offer to cook breakfast in the morning. Everybody knows men will leave their wives for some homemade breakfast! The question is “Why is he doing this?”

Yours truly,
Brenda

Dear Bren-Duh!

I don’t know if you are familiar with the rules of having a f@*! buddy but here are a few of the rules you might want to follow. Let me break down for you…ladies take heed…shhh!

1. Never ever f@*! a buddy that is husband potential. If he has a job making more than $25,000 annually, then do not consider this man a buddy. But if he lives in his mother’s basement and calls it his apartment because it has a separate entrance…this is buddy material.
2. Never ever choose a buddy you think is hotter than you. If your heart flutters every time you talk to this person…he is NOT buddy material.
3. Never ever offer a buddy the option to wash up, let alone spend the night. Remember to collect wet naps from various fast food restaurants for this event so that they can clean up on the way out.

Now in case you have broken some of the rules, here are some indicators that you are CAUGHT-UP:

1. When you call the act lovemaking,
2. When you offer to cook that reggin breakfast, and
3. When you give him the praise and not the lord!

Lastly, if you find your nose wide open…there is only ONE thing you can do and that is to NEVER EVER speak to him again! No texts, no calls, no emails and don’t even engage in self-gratification with him on the mind. It is important to remember that this type of buddy is for sex only.

Till we talk again,
Courvoisier
Mz. Courvoisier if ya nasty.

make him a plate, puhleeezze!

A few weeks ago I had a conversation with a friend who divulged her trials and trepidations in the love chronicles. Needless to say, there is a guy she's been diggin and seein' for a while. However, she's hesistant to clear the air and claim him (remember what I told you). Now my friend spends alot of time with this guy-- I mean they really enjoy each other's company.

So, in an episode where they're enjoying each other's company she decides to cook for both of them. So the fella is laid back watching t.v. while my girl is in the kitchen dicing and splicing vegetables, sauteeing poultry, the waft of seasonings permeating the air... dinner is served. My girl sets the table, makes herself a plate and commences to eat, and didn't make him a plate? WTF...

She literally informs him everything is ready, help yourself to a plate and utensils. Ummmm... that's downright tacky. What stopped you from making his plate? She utters something nonsensical in an attempt to justify her actions. She was pretty defiant and feisty too, about not his making his plate...

Now this story would have no relevance, except my homegirl would like to be a wife in the near future. Well, "honey you got to get on your good feet" rest in peace James Brown. I'm an adamant believer that if you want something in life you need to start mimicking behavior associated with such attainment - i.e. dress for success. So, if you want to be a wife you need to exhibit compromise, selflessness, and love. Ironically, this guy she is diggin' has been raised in a culture where women cater to men literally on hand and foot. The way Bellini rationalizes things, "girlfriend can not pass GO, nor collect $200" sorry about the Monopoly reference, folks.... But, I mean really something has to give.

What my friend failed to realize about herself is that if you won't make his plate, you won't launder his linens, or do a whole lotta stuff for your man. And granted he's not her man, but perhaps that's why.

Ladies, make his plate puhleeezze!

cheers,

Bellini

Best Friends Forever?

Y'all Show Your Love as 5 and a Possible Present: Raspberry Martini

Raspberry Martini: A classic with a feminine twist. Strong, sweet, and to the point. I am a 20 something teacher who is known for her Type-A personality and humor. Read my entries and you will find musings on my adventures in education (or lack thereof), dating (or lack thereof), and weight loss (or lack thereof).

**Ring Ring** You have reached the Sprint voice mail of..."

THREE DAYS LATER

Friend: "Hey, Raspberry Martini, I saw that you called…What's up?"
Raspberry Martini: "Yea, I just haven't heard from you in a while. Just wanted to see what was going on. What have you been up to all summer?"
Friend: "Nothing much, just working…"

***Awkward Pause***

Friend: "You know, we should hang out some time."
RM: "Sure! what are you doing this weekend?"
Friend: "Well…um, let me get back to you, I think My Baaaaby may have something planned."

Situation sound familiar?

You call your friend, she doesn't return your call for days. You ask her to hang out, and she never seems to have the time. Your sporadic phone conversations usually come back to one topic. Sometimes you don't even know if you are talking to the same person anymore, and wonder if her personality has been hijacked by some unknown force. Is this friend on drugs you ask? No. Decided to practice Scientology? Nope. Is she mad at you, you ask? No.

She's been dickmatized!!

Perhaps I am being a bit dramatic (all a part of my charm), because most have been there at one point or another: a budding new relationship, a delightfully consuming new beau. Everything he says is incredibly sweet, intelligent, unique, or hilarious. Not to mention, he makes your body tingle like Dr. Bronner's peppermint soap. Suddenly, weeks have passed and you have been conspicuously absent from every social outing with your girls. And you can't understand why, lately, your friends seem to be annoyed with your conversation. Could it be that for the past six months every sentence starts with, "Well *insert mushy boyfriend pet name here* says/thinks/does/feels/ …" Let's face it, while we may be happy for you, and we may want to hear about your happiness (to a point), not everybody is going to think your new man shits diamonds.

My female friends tend to fall into one of two categories concerning new relationships: either they pull a temporary disappearing act (natural when building a new relationship) and return to normal, or they permanently distance themselves because their life becomes a constant orbit around their new Prince Charming. I always feel awkward when his happens because I understand the tempting time warp that your new man can become. However, when you are on the opposite side, you can't help but feel some sort of resentment and hurt that your friend has indefinitely placed you on the back burner.

Do I sound bitter? If so, it's because I am going through this situation with someone I considered a very close friend. We used to talk / text several times a week about any and everything, share secrets and inside jokes, confide in each other about major life decisions, and hang out regularly. We were girls. Now we rarely speak because she returns calls days later and rarely initiates phone calls. She always states, "We should hang out sometime…" like we are schmoozing at some C-Class networking event, but somehow plans never seem to materialize. I chose to keep mum with my feelings and gave her her space in hopes that she would come around at some point. However, when she moved in with her new man without telling me, I knew that our relationship had taken a detour, and I had no idea where we stood anymore. I felt completely left out.

When I finally spoke to her about my feelings, she said: "Well, I don't have a car, so I go where ever My Baaaaby goes." Let us all pause for the lameness of that excuse. At this point, I don't know what to do aside from mourn a formerly close friendship. Her boyfriend is a nice guy and a great catch, but why does that equal disappearing into his world? I am at a loss about what to do, or perhaps, more accurately, frustrated that I can't really do anything about the situation. Do I bring it up again at the risk of alienating her even more? Or do I disappear as well, and if our friendship ever goes off pause mode, hope I can let go of the resentment that has festered.

Internet Diva facade aside, I am a tad bit jealous. Not only because she spends all her time with him, but as I said, he is a great catch. In my present singleness, I would love to have someone to cuddle up with and perhaps build a future. I am still waiting for my catch. Damn, sometimes I'm still waiting for a decent bite or nibble (literally and figuratively). However, mostly, I just miss my homey.

This situation taught me that all relationships take work and dedication. As we grow older, acquiring more responsibilities and commitments, time and energy become increasingly scarce and therefore sacred. I guess as my friends start to pair off, get married, and procreate, our relationships will change and shift. Is this all a part of growing up? Unfortunately, it is. How you and your friend decide to navigate the new terrain of your friendship will help you decide if they are there for a reason, season, or a lifetime. What I've learned from being on the other side is that through life's changes it is important to continue to nurture all of your relationships---romantic or otherwise. You never know, three days can easily become three years – and life doesn't have a pause button.

Keep it Shaken,

Raspberry Martini