BBWC — Bitterness Is Sweet

Wow!

I wasn’t prepared for the reaction and responses this blog generated. As always, I truly appreciate the comments – I read each and every one.

And now that the suicide watch is off, please return my shoe strings, belts and scarves, I really appreciated the intervention – it was good to see you guys. And the one’s who didn’t make the intervention, I hope you aren’t planning a nice rubber room vacation for me.

I say this to say, I am ok. I am sorry most of you read my blog and got a depressed and sad Toinetta from it. I am so way not sad. I guess quoting from a book with “suicide” in the title kinda gives the impression of sadness, but it’s so not that – “Colored Girls…”is so empowering and it is my bible – I’ve been reading and quoting it since 7^th grade.

Writing “No More…” was very cathartic for me. I tend to mull and reflect on things and this particular topic was something a friend and I had discussed ad nauseum and we were both left with the same befuddled feelings and thoughts. I took the time to try and work through those thoughts and feelings and I shared them with you.

I’ve asked some to read the blog twice because I don’t think the true tone is being projected. I read it and I got my confusion and angst and befuddlement, but then, I wrote it so I know the tone. Read it with a little more attitude – trust me, you’ll get that a sista ain’t sad at all, at least not for me.

And those who commented on me needing a 12-Step program, a therapist and to learn to like myself, please know I am way too narcissistic to not like myself. I am truly my best friend and I do no wrong in my eyes. I am all I have and I take very good care of me. However, thank you for the advice. And the last time I went to a therapist, he told me I needed another job because I was bored.

Now, on to what I really want to talk about…

2008 is upon us and I’ve been mulling and reflecting on the direction of the BBWC.

When I started this blog in February, I was angry and bitter and turned off to dating. Those who have been with me from the beginning, have read my highs and lows of dating and dealing with the opposite sex. A lot of my ideas come from conversations I have with friends – male and female. Some of my ideas come from situations in my life and in my head.

Well, as the year wore on, I found I was leaving bitterness in someone else’s cup and not so much in my own. And my being less bitter brings a new flavor to the blog. I don’t date as much as I used to and I’ve settled into a happy place in my life. So I am at an impasse on what direction the BBWC should take in 2008.

I’ve spent a nice amount of energy reading other blogs and getting a feel of the pulse of the blogsphere. I am not overly political, however, I am extremely passionate about some things.

I want the BBWC to be a fun blog where you don’t have to do so much thinking but you can still get something out of reading my entries.

If you have any suggestions or ideas on what you’d like more of from the BBWC – I like the name so I am not changing that – please feel free to contact me via the blog or if you know me, call me or email me.

Thanks for your continued support. I hope I can continue to keep your interest as I journey though life.

Peace and Blessings….

i need to be loved/& haven’t the audacity to say  where are you/& i don’t know who to say it to

 -ntozake shange, for colored girls who have considered suicide when the rainbow is enuf

I can remember a time in my life when I was always certain of me. When I never second guessed my needs, my dreams or even my desires.

Now I find I am always doubting me. Am I pretty enough? Am I too smart? Not smart enough? Do I talk too much? Am I listening well enough?

And I find myself at wits’ end.

I’ve always given off the air of confidence and high self-esteem. I’ve always walked with my head held high, not needing reassurance from anyone. If I believed in me, then it was all I needed.

But now, when I am thirty eight, childless and without a real sustainable relationship, I doubt myself more than ever.

And I don’t understand where all the insecurity has come from.

I find myself turning into the cliché of a woman always needing someone to reassure her she is fabulous. I need validation for the most minute of issues. And I find I am becoming the “needy” woman no one wants to deal with.

As I sit here having yet another conversation with myself about “What’s wrong with me?” I can’t help but wonder, when did I start to think anything was ever wrong with me?

I was talking to a friend the other day about a relationship I was in which turned pretty ugly. He made the statement that in order for me to accept and stay in the relationship as long as I did and endured as much as I did, there had to be something wrong with me before I got in the relationship.

WTF?

You mean to tell me if you care about someone and he treats you horribly, it’s really all your own fault?
Wow – that explains my entire life. Well, actually, only the part where I started dating.

I know my blog is about my relationships with men and how I’ve reached being bitter and all, but I like to believe the insight I share about my past situations, is helpful to someone else – male or female.

See, I don’t believe I was screwed up before the tough relationship. I actually believe I was pretty solid before then. I do know the person I am now is hugely related to some of the trials I went through in that relationship.

And yes, I will admit I am not the most secure person when it comes to relationships, with most of my doubts being normal growing pains of any new relationship. I often comment how I’m not good in a relationship. Yet knowing my fear is my inability to read and understand the nuances in a relationship.

It bothers me how in the past few relationships I’ve been in – whether pseudo or delusional – I’ve always been left to guess how the person feels about me. And that vexes me more than anything!
 
It is this uncertainty which drives me to abandon many relationships.

Please understand, I am not saying a person should declare their undying love and devotion to me on the first date. But it amazes me how being with someone for months to years and they are no more certain of their feelings for you than they were on the first date.

See, I am skeptical and saddened when a person I’ve spent the majority of my time with still sees me as a cool person to hang out with.

It insults my intelligence when the person I’ve given my energy, body and mind sees me as only a homey-lover-friend.

I understand there are progressions in a relationship and I know people mover at their own emotional pace, but isn’t it disingenuous to expect devotion from someone yet you give them no emotional support? To me, it rings of game playing.

And because I am never afforded the common courtesy of being informed about how the person I am in a “relationship” feels about me, I am left to my own devices to decide another person’s emotions. I am not sure if you’ve ever been in that “place,” but it tends to cause you to second guess a lot of the relationship and all types of paranoia and insecurity seeps in.

However, the person who is taking you through these changes of course will undoubtedly deny any “insecurity” caused by them. After all, you must’ve had self-doubt long before this relationship started. Do you see the game?

And even if you had self-doubt coming into the relationship, as the “partner” don’t you have an obligation to your self to play the relationship slow?

While I try to not blame others for my shortcomings, it’s hard to take the total blame for being insecure about something someone else controls. Sometimes I wonder if one of my former lovers had ever told me how he truly felt, would I be so damn bitter?

Now, I am sure many will say my uncertainty comes from not being loved by my father as a child and there may be some truth to it. I mean when I look at the relationships I’ve been in, they all have some semblance to my non-“relationship” with my father.  Whatever!

However, I know for a person to care about me, it shouldn’t be hard to tell me. And then it makes me wonder – what if they don’t care about me. How do you deal with that?

In the past, I would shut down any emotional attachment and just try to “enjoy the moment.” When I was younger, it was easier to shut down and be cold and distant. But now I am older and I find I don’t want to be distant and cold. I want to be involved and in love. It’s harder for me to turn those emotions off and to pretend like I’m cool with not caring.

I am at a point in my life where the games aren’t necessary. If you just want to be my homey-lover-friend, then let me know and let me decide if that’s what I want from you. If you don’t want me the way I want you, then man up and tell me so I can find someone who does.

I refuse to hold out hope for someone who doesn’t love me today. And yeah, I may miss out on a “good thing,” but I may also find that someone special who isn’t afraid to love me.

I deserve love.

I am ready for love.

And I won’t settle for less than the love I desire.

Until then, I continue to dream…

Until then, I will take this time to grow and mature and blossom into the gardenia I am meant to be.

Today I had lunch with two co-workers and we were talking about relationships and second husbands. As the ladies were giving me the usual advice on getting married, it was during this conversation I realized how much I really want to be married again.

Recently, I announced that I want to be remarried by the time I’m forty and possibly have a child by the time I’m forty two. Now while I got lots of jokes and laughs at the idea of me a) wanting to be a parent; and b) wanting to be a parent at forty two, I still held tight to my “goals.” And yes, a few questioned why I needed to be married and how fab my life is sans husband.

I am thirty eight years old and I don’t want to be a spinster. You know, the old lady in the neighborhood whom all the kids make fun of and none of the wives want around. The lady who has a trillion cats - except mine would be dogs, ‘cause I’m afraid of cats - and no family that visits. The lonely soul whom everyone quietly whispers about how they feel so sorry for her ‘cause she’s going to die alone.

I don’t want to be her. I don’t deserve to be her.

I always knew when I got married I would have two husbands - not two husbands concurrently, although that would have been interesting, but two husbands in my life span. I’ve done the first. And while things didn’t last forever, they lasted long enough for me to have learned how to be a wife.

So now, I am ready for love.

But with no one in sight.

This saddens me.

While I know that I’ve arbitrarily given myself a deadline on something that doesn’t fall within a deadline process, I feel it is necessary.

When I moved back to DC from Dallas, I was all about finding a husband. I knew DC was impregnated with potential suitors - men galore - straight, gay and undecided. After struggling for a year to make ends meet and to maintain, I was in dire needed of someone to take care of me.  I needed security and what better way to “secure” me than a husband. After all, the fairy tales spoke of security in a man and I just knew my knight in shining armor was in DC - actually, just a job that would allow me to stay out of debtor’s prison.

And off I set to find him. I was the desperate woman whose biological clock was pounding in her ears - at least one would think my biological clock was blaring by the rabid way I began my search.

If we went on a first date and hit it off, out came the tailor to measure you for the tux. And Tiffany’s was on speed dial - “Hello, ring section, I’ve got a potential here. When can we come in for a showing?”

However, after the first year, I lowered my standards - I wanted a husband and all he needed was a solid career path and work history, fairly decent credit and twenty eight of his thirty two teeth - none covered in any element, i.e, platinum grills with now and later diamonds. That couldn’t be too hard to find! And the search continued.

And now in my third year, standards lowered a little more - don’t care about sexuality and if he is a serial killer, just let me know - still no takers and I am no closer to the altar now then I was in 2004.

Of course I’ve put some safeguards in position; I have a couple exes who have agreed to marry me when I am forty no questions asked. However, I am hoping I won’t have to break the emergency glass around them.

Yup, I was off to the race and the finish line was the altar. Now, three years later, I am still no closer to that elusive second marriage. However, I am wiser about how I get there. So I’ve canceled my cake order and my gown is no longer on lay away. I’ve fired my tailor, but I keep Tiffany’s on speed dial - a girl has to have her priorities.

I am less maniacal about being a wife. I still want to - I long for a friend, companion, lover, and enemy all rolled into one. I still want someone who takes me for granted, checks my spending, fusses at me for being so damn messy, and begs me to cook his favorite meal. I want someone who sends me flowers to make up for not sending me flowers, or who buys me gifts just because, or who rubs my feet at the end of a hard day.

And I am ready for love.

Unfortunately, my desire to be married is mine alone. Who is to say the man I find will be where I am on this issue? Who is to say the next relationship I enter will grow to anything more than dating? How am I to know when to bail if this is the case?

Will my desire to be married by forty alienate a potential ‘cause he isn’t ready until I am forty one?

There is so much to deal with - I hate goals!

And maybe because I see marriage as an item on my “to do” list, my knight hasn’t shown himself. I believe in karma and I work hard not to put negative energy into the universe. But when one approaches marriage in a manner where she needs someone to just step into the spot - isn’t that a bad thing?

I know I’m often questioned on why I want to be married. I know part of it has to do with the fact my marriage didn’t work out. And while I put the karma in the air that ‘caused it to not succeed, I do have a desire to right that wrong.

And also, I like companionship. I enjoy having someone there for me and being there for someone. I have a very strong desire to be needed and wanted and loved. I know I am not a perfect person but I am a good woman and I know I can love a man the way he wants to be loved.

I’ve listened to the stories of how wives cut their husbands off for no reason, or how the wife uses sex as a power play. I know marriage is more than sex, and I know the importance of a healthy sexual relationship.

I want someone who appreciates the “me” I am and what I can give him as a woman - and I mean more than sexually. I am an open-minded person who doesn’t put leashes on her man, but expects to be treated fairly.

So, yes, wanting to be married by forty is a goal but it is also an aspiration. I aspire to be the best wife my husband has ever encountered, whether I’m his first or his twenty first.

Are you ready for my love?

Wednesday, I got a phone call from a friend who used to be my boyfriend but is now my mechanic. He had called me earlier returning a call I made to him. But when he called me that evening, I knew there was something going on.

My friend had suffered a tragedy in his life and I called myself being there for him. So usually when he calls, I try to answer them, in case he is having a relapse of emotion. I am usually not shocked by his demeanor or his state of mind. On this particularly warm early Autumn evening, he had been hanging with his friends Hennessey and Heineken, which meant the conversation would be interesting.

He always starts the conversation with a little sarcasm, usually surprised because I answered the call. I dance the dance and pretend that I am not avoiding him and I explain how I am busy with my family and work. After this polite exchange, his voice lowers and the words he speaks are filled with sentiment and sincerity – two things that definitely render me uncomfortable.

Now, before I go any further, let me give you a little history on this “relationship.” My mechanic is a guy I dated while in college. I met him when I worked in the mall. At that time, I was heavily involved with someone else, and having a moral structure at the time, I never conceived the thought to be interested in anyone but my sweetheart at the time.

Months went by and my relationship changed. My boyfriend and I were no longer together and my dating game wasn’t that great. Why not go out with dude? So, we went out and we played the game of cat and mouse. He was in the military at the time and stationed in New Jersey so I only saw him when he came to Baltimore .

Our “dating” went on for a couple years. We were never fully committed to each other – he had his life and I had mine. Not to mention we were like nine to ten years apart in age – there was no way I could compete with his “game.”

During our time together, I learned a lot about him – he was a cold and hardened person, a lot I found out was brought on by his wife. Yeah, there was a lot for me to learn. He wanted to change me. He felt who I was wasn’t going to make it in the world and I needed to be more like him – cold, distant and hard.

While I was young and a little naïve, I was never one to relinquish who I am for anyone. I’ve fought hard to maintain a balance of who I really am and who I need to be. And there was no way I was going to let some man who didn’t see me for who I was at the time tell me who I should be – so he could be with me. Not!

And there you have it – the gist of our relationship – he wanted to change me and I wanted to stay me. In a game like that, there can only be on winner. And with Uncle Sam on my side and a quick restationing, I won that battle.

So fast forward to 2007 and dude and I are friends. We aren’t close friends like hanging out and shopping and stuff, but we are cool with each other and we have each other’s back when needed.

So, when he calls and says to me that he has been thinking about me and he misses me – well, I am a little thrown back. And when he tells me he loves me, then that is just a loop I didn’t expect.

I am uncomfortable with emotion – of any kind. I tell my friends I am not the sympathetic girlfriend. If you need sympathy, call someone else. I am truly uncomfortable with feelings – yes, it makes opening up and loving a little complicated, but I’m always down for growth.

His declaration threw me. Not because he was sharing his feelings, but because when he and I were together, I would have given my left eye and a few major organs to hear him tell me he loved me.

See, he was like all the relationships I’ve been in. You know, the ones that won’t tell you how they feel but would rather you “assume” how they feel by their “actions.” And while I am a believer in “actions speak louder than words,” I still believe the words need to be said – if only once – and then let your actions prove your words.

I can’t recall one of my “boyfriends” who really shared verbally, or action wise really, how they felt about me. But the moment I reached my breaking point and I could no longer stand the ambiguity and I broke off the relationship, they all of a sudden would profess to love me with every fiber of their being.  Skeptical much?

I have always heard how “intimidating” I am in a relationship and how “scared” men are of me. I’ve always brushed those statements aside as fodder. How can you have sex with someone that scares you so much? Why would you even want to be with someone you are afraid of? It all rings of excuses and bull.

And when a former paramour tells me he loves me, I don’t discount or belittle his emotions. He very well may love me. He very well may have realized how lucky he was when he had me and wishes he had never let me go. And, well, it’s very flattering to have someone feel so strongly for you – especially when there is no one feeling anything for you at the moment.

But I am always reminded of one of the few colorful statements my grandmother would say, “If the Lord meant for you to walk in shit, he would have put your asshole in the front.”

My response to my friend was thank you, that’s very flattering and good luck with that.

The first time I heard the term “Friend with benefits,” it was in an Alanis Morrisette song, “Head over Feet,” where she describes a blooming passionate romance with a friend. It was all so sweet and innocent – being gaga over someone who has been there all the time. Finding someone who embodies the characteristics you are looking for in a lover – and one of them being your friend.

I was reading a New York Times article, Friends with Benefits, and Stress Too, and I was left trying to figure out when something so innocent became something so sordid.

The article talks about a recent study published in Archives of Sexual Behavior, where college students were interviewed and surveyed regarding a “friends with benefits” relationship. The researchers define the “friends with benefits” as being someone you are acquainted with but with whom you either have no passionate feelings or a committed relationship.

I get that it is hard out there for a pimp, and relationships are work, but are we living in a society where commitment and passion are completely off the table?

When I think of my “perfect mate,” the first thing I list is passion. I want to feel a strong desire for someone – whether it is sexual or truly love. I long for someone to touch me in a way where my entire body feels electricity or melts. Just describing these emotions, I can feel them. And that’s the beauty of passion.

It illicit an awakening of your spirit and causes your soul to stir. I often say, if they could bottle the euphoria of a new love and put it in da kool aid, the world would be a much happier place.

As for commitment, I have learned firsthand that there are very few people in the world who really understand what commitment is. While Webster defines commitment as the act of engaging oneself, most men akin commitment to being shackled and tied to one person.

I believe that a commitment is what you and your partner define it to be. I am not by any means a traditionalist when it comes to relationships – remember, I don’t believe in monogamy and many believe it is monogamy that enforces the commitment.

Please don’t think me prudish. I have had my fair share of purely sexual relationships.  However, I never gave the “other” the title of friend. Friends are special to me and I try to preserve the relationships and not convolute it with sex and romantic emotions. I keep my male-female friendships purely platonic.

I am not judging the people who engage in a “friends with benefits” relationship. I am a firm believer in the adage “to each his own.” However, I do hope that they explore passion and commitment. I can’t necessarily say that passion and commitment are the answers, but I can say they lend a little insight into oneself and they assist in developing character.

After all, love makes the world go round.

Slowly surely,
I walk away from
that old desperate and dazed love
caught up in the maze of love
the crazy craze of love
thought it was good
thought it was real
thought it was
but it wasn’t love

“Slowly Surely”, Jill Scott

I joke about how afraid I am of serial killers. My fear stems from not knowing who is a mass murder. I can imagine – or I hope to imagine – the few women who have been married to a serial killer didn’t know. How scary is that? You live with someone and you know them intimately only to find that they are a cold, calculating killer. Wow!

So I always joke with the “new” guy by asking him if he is a serial killer and explaining that it is ok for him to tell me the truth because I won’t judge or tell on him – I only want to be able to decide whether or not the relationship should proceed. I mean, it’s hard out here on a single woman, and some sacrifices are necessary if you meet a man of quality. I could be what he needs to turn his life around – I mean the BTK guy found the Lord.

But while I spend my energy worried if I’m dating a serial killer, there are other women out there who are dating sociopaths of another nature. I was reading an article on MSNBC.com about a young lady who has been missing since September 19, 2007 and her body was recovered on September 27, 2007 from a wooded area in a suburb of Chicago.

Nailah Franklin was a 28-year-old pharmaceutical rep in Illinois . She was an educated and beautiful black woman. It appears she was briefly dating someone but broke it off with him and he started making threatening calls. She reported this to the police and then she disappeared.

One doesn’t have to be Matlock to figure out how this story will play out. The odds that the dumped paramour is behind her disappearance and death are pretty high. There are some sick people out there and one takes more chances dating than one does fighting in Iraq .

Unfortunately, the story of Nailah is more oft then not the norm in these “foul play” scenarios. We all remember the story of the pregnant woman in Ohio Jessie Davis who allegedly was killed in front of her child by the father of the child she was carrying.

There is a term for this type of “relationship” – intimate partner stalking. This is the act of “not being able to let go,” of someone who believes the relationship isn’t over and that you don’t mean it when you say you don’t want to see him anymore. The National Violence Against Women survey shows that 8% of 8,000 women sampled – that’s 640 women – are stalked by a former or current intimate partner. I am sure the number grows exponentially in a full survey.

I can’t say for certain that Nailah’s life was taken by a former intimate partner, but again, the clues show it may be true. As women, we need to better defend ourselves. I’ve always been a supporter of better laws for women’s safety. It wasn’t until a man lost his penis that Northern Virginia decided to look at their laws regarding domestic abuse.

Love hurts enough on its own, and to have someone abuse you mentally, physically or at all just makes it harder.

In searching for love, women need to know that loving one’s self is more important and we shouldn’t be afraid to say NO.

And while the nights might be lonely, it’s great to be alive.

My prayers to Nailah Franklin’s family and to all the other families who are mourning the loss of someone by an “intimate partner.”

John Mayer, “Daughters” 

I was reading an old journal entry and I was amazed at how introspective I am – sorry, can’t resist the narcissistic behavior. This particular entry was about my relationship choices and how the non-existing “relationship” with my father has influenced those choices.

I am not one to blame others for my life choices and path. I truly believe in taking ownership of my decisions – good, bad or indifferent – and I am a proponent for “life lessons” – learning from those decisions I’ve taken ownership of. However, I am also starting to believe that choices and actions of others influence you in ways you don’t realize.

I have several male counterparts who make it a point to find out their girlfriend’s relationship with her father.  I never paid much attention to the propaganda because everyone deals with life’s issues differently.

My father wasn’t a part of my life. It wasn’t until I was a teenager that I even began to ask my mother about him. To be honest, I don’t even remember meeting him for the first time. I do remember he would take me to his sister’s house on Sunday for dinner. I didn’t like his sister. I thought she was mean. And it wasn’t until I was 31 years-old that I met his mother for the first time. I do remember that well. It was Thanksgiving and I was attempting to forge a real relationship with him so I suggested I attend Thanksgiving dinner at one of his other sister’s house.

It was an interesting evening. I was introduced to all his sisters – I think its four total – and his mother. After about ten minutes of them scrutinizing me, his mother says to him, “Your girlfriend is pretty.” It was funny and sad at the same time, but I had to keep in mind she was like 90 something at the time. 

And it wasn’t until I read my own writing and thoughts that it hit me – my relationship, or lack thereof, with my “father” has influenced me greatly in many decisions I make and my interactions with the opposite sex.

I’ve always fought the ideology that is spewed by many about how women who grew up without a male role model, i.e. father, are more likely to have problems in male/female relationships.

It’s commonly believed that a female learns how to interact with males from her relationship with her father, but if you are raised in a single-parent home and the parent is female, then you are less likely to have a “healthy” relationship with the opposite sex. You are also more likely to be promiscuous and to perpetuate the single-parent lifestyle.

While I am childless and I believe promiscuity is a social judgment, I do contend that I have issues when it comes to relating to romantic relationships with the opposite sex. 

One issue I have is trust. I don’t mistrust. I am quick to give full trust when it hasn’t been earned. In many of my relationships, I eagerly accept the person and begin a process of making this person “larger than life.” What winds up happening as a result of all this trust is when I begin to see them, they are blindsided by my mistrust in them. It’s a very complex and convoluted process.

However, my not knowing to be “suspicious” or “guarded,” causes me to see what I want to see and to not see the person for who they are.  In one relationship, all the signs were there that the person wasn’t stable financially but I chose to look beyond the signs and I trusted this person would be different because they cared for me. The reality was they were true to themselves and I had no one to blame but me because the signs were there.

Another issue I have in relationships is my own insecurities. Women who are raised with a father in their lives tend to have self-confidence and high self-esteem. The absence of my father robbed me of that assurance. And while I do believe in myself, I doubt my worthiness in a relationship. After all, if my own father didn’t see enough to love me unconditionally, then who am I to believe some stranger will?

While these are just a sample of issues I have - cause the list could go on - the issues are prominent enough to cause one to reflect. And in my journal entry, I reflected on the long-term relationships I had and why I chose the type of men I did.

I have had myriad relationships with an eclectic group of men. Yet, they all tend to have commonalities – they are successful, confident and charming. However, they weren’t right for me.

And when I say they weren’t right for me, I mean if I weren’t hungry for “love,” then I would have never stayed as long as I did in each of the relationships. They were unhealthy for whatever reason, and even though I knew the relationship was poisonous, I stayed. Why?

I stayed because I needed to believe there was a man – any man – who cared enough for me to give me the love I was denied from the one person who should have loved me — my father.

I stayed because I believed I was worthy of love and that the crap I was going through at the time in that particular relationship was what love was about. I mean, if you can’t get through a little murkiness, then it can’t be love?

And so I went from bad relationship to bad relationship and only temporarily getting the emotional support I was seeking. It wasn’t until I removed myself from dating and all things associated with dating that I began to realize the real issue.

It wasn’t until I sat down and re-read a journal entry from a year ago that I truly accepted what I had so desperately chosen to ignore.

And while I still don’t have a relationship with my father, I have accepted that his love would have been nice growing up, but it’s not necessary for me to exist as an adult.

Yes, I am still seeking love – true unconditional love – and wanting it so badly that it keeps me awake at night. But I don’t allow that “desire” to keep me from living my life.

And when that love comes, I won’t blindly enter into it. I will tread softly and I will enjoy the moment and not allow my fears and insecurities to eat away at what might be. And I won’t stay in the relationship when it is no more.

So when I journal about “him” – whoever “he” may be – I won’t place him in that basket of dysfunctional and unhealthy loves before…

My girlfriend e-mailed me and told me of a reporter looking to interview black women in the Northern Virginia area who date white men. Now, something like this can go one of two ways – it could bash black women for selling out or it could bash black men for shutting us out. And had I been in any other mood, I would have never responded so quickly to the idea.

But with little encouragement, I sent an e-mail and got the ball rolling.

Now, I don’t know if I was the only person in the area to be interviewed or if I was the most “intriguing” or the one with the best angle – black mother not wanting her little princess to taint her doorstep with a “Biff.”

Whatever it was, it propelled me into an overnight celebrity. I am not one to ever shy away from attention, but this was no attention I would ever be interested in.

I’m a pretty laid back sista with a little Barbie in my blood, but I’m always down for the cause when the cause makes sense. So, I never really thought too much about dating anyone who wanted to go out with me. I mean, my only criteria is that you are NOT a serial killer and if you are, you have the decency to tell me and let me decide whether or not we should continue dating.

In other words, I’m pretty easy.

Funny thing, I remember the day that the reporter called me to interview. It was on a Wednesday and I was preparing to attend another single’s event – cause I wanted to put me out there. I sat in my car on Pennsylvania Avenueand I answered her questions and I gave my philosophies and opinions.

Prior to speaking to her, I happened to receive a call from one of my “paramours.” He was a “Tom” and I needed to discuss some professional choices with him. While talking to him, I mentioned that I was going to be interviewed regarding interracial dating and he encouraged me to do it. He was excited and proud of me and he thought it was a great idea.

And at the time, so did I.

I guess in my naiveté, I never once thought that my concise and explicit explanations would be twisted to fit an agenda. Boy, am I silly. No one would believe I have a BS in Journalism.

What surprised me the most was the backlash. Somehow I have become the poster child for interracial dating and my point was completely lost in translation.

Again, I can say, while I enjoy attention, I don’t enjoy this at all. I don’t enjoy the random e-mails from strangers who spent the day Googling and searching me out. Or the invites to speak on a conservative radio talk show with an “agenda.”

See, I am not saying that dating out of your race is a bad thing or a good thing. For me, it became an issue of who wanted to go out with me. Anyone who knows me, truly knows me, knows that I date any willing and able individual. I am fond of saying that I have my own 501(c)(3) – not-for-profit dating service.

So, with this in mind, talking about something that “is what it is”, didn’t seem to be an “issue” for me.

However, it is an issue for others. And I am fond of saying – “your issue, not mine.”

After receiving some real strange e-mails, I leapt out of my bed on Sunday morning and did a Google of my name. Finding the link to the article, I read voraciously and then an overwhelming sense of disaster overcame me.

The article was written in an “explosive” tone. It was intended to stir the pot. I am not a pot stirrer – I don’t even cook!

And when I received an e-mail from a Chris Amos of Army Times Publishing Company, where he basically put me on blast for “making broad sweeping statements about 15 million men” and accused me of self hate “because some trifling man that YOU CHOSE treated you badly,” I felt compelled to express myself.

I don’t owe anyone any explanation for anything that my 37-year-old self does legally. I am not a malicious person by any means and I don’t remember making any generalization about black men.

I can say that I am sick and tired of feeling like it’s my anointed duty to protect and serve the black man – I don’t remember signing up for that tour. I feel sympathy for the black man because he is a fragile and gentle creature that has never been allowed to be a man. I get that because I do know my history. But again, it ain’t my place to make you a man.

I am not a passive woman by any stretch of the imagination – remember, I started the BBWC cause I got tired of being treated poorly by men – didn’t say who. I don’t remember ever putting “the black man” on blast for being all the things that make women seek comfort elsewhere – and I don’t just mean the arms of a white man.

Matter of fact, I don’t even remember “praising” the white man. I said, “I’m not saying that white men are the answer to all our problems, I’m saying that they offer a different solution.”

I’m tired of being disrespected by any man – I don’t discriminate when I flip the bird. I’m tired of being treated like a second-class citizen – I’m a lady and I deserve and command respect. I’m tired of explaining myself – and I won’t ever again.

Mr. Amos went even further to spew the type of crap that you only hear on the Michael Baisden or the Steve Harvey radio shows. He said, and I quote, “Furthermore, the black women who are worth dating tend to have a man, no matter what race he might be.”

While that lends a “comforting thought,” – that all trifling women are at home alone where they belong – it is one of the dumbest things I’ve ever heard. See, I am a woman more than “worthy” of dating. However, the quality of men out there makes me not want to date.

I’ve been on dates where men have expected me to pay, put out or do some sexually deviant activity – and those are the FIRST dates. So please don’t spew ignorance to me, cause I don’t spew it to you.

When my friends and I talk about dating and I suggest that they try “something new,” I express that a man is always a man regardless of color of skin. And I say that to mean, he is going to dog you if he is a dog. If it’s in him to hurt you, cheat on you, abuse you, then he will. Don’t get the swirl twisted.

I hope that you all read the article and get that there is more to life than the limits and restrictions we put on ourselves.

I still don’t sit around dreaming about the “perfect black man,” but if I could find one, I would scoop him up in a minute and I hope that he sees me and scoops me too. And if you know one who is secure in himself, open minded, open emotionally and intelligent, give him my e-mail and maybe we can chat. But until then, if its “Tom” that’s fitting the description, then it will be Tom’s arm I am on.

Oh, and when you see us, know I am with him because he allows me to be me and he doesn’t judge or criticize or make outrageous and sexist demands on me.

Peace and Love

As several friends are aware, I’ve been dating and working to put myself out there “emotionally.”  My posts have been experiences that I feel are necessary to assist some with getting through the anguish that dating can cause. Many of my posts have been about the “elusive third date” and how the frustration of never getting one causes me to reflect. What my reflecting has shown me is that I am riddled with so much doubt and insecurity when it comes to dating.

I remember when I couldn’t wait for the next date. I was a pro – I could juggle three dates in one day and rest on the next. And if I never got that elusive third date – that was ok because the odds were better if the numbers were higher. You want to have dinner with me? No problem – but it’s gotta be the best restaurant in town. You want to go to the movies? No problem – hope you aren’t intimidated by subtitles.

But now I am finding that the third date is elusive for a reason. The first two dates are more or less a relationship barometer. You should know by the second date definitely if you want to see this person again – if there is something there that holds you captive. Of course, of late, I’ve been pretty much slacking on the captivity.

But recently, I’ve been treated to some “extra” dates… and from the same person! And now I find myself in uncharted territory.  

As I trek into this unfamiliar dating terrain, I find myself “insecure” about my attributes. It appears that I am fortunate to be spending time with a gentleman who actually wants to get to know me. I am used to men wanting to have sex with me. I know that I “exude” sex appeal, but I’ve never been fortunate enough to have more than a casual sexual relationship at best.

You do remember the hot and heated first date a few months ago? Never got pass the “second” date – his loss.

What I never admit to is that I use sex as a smoke screen. See, I figure if you want sex, that’s easy. But getting to know me, that’s a challenge.

Many of us compartmentalize relationships – what you and your true friends share is unique to each of the relationships. And while that works in female friendship relationships, it is frowned upon by a man who is truly interested in you. And since 98% of my male relationships lacked any true interest in me, I find myself puzzled by the fact that someone can actually enjoy being with me.  

What I’ve neglected to realize is that while being guarded and distant in most relationships, I never prepared myself to actually share my world with anyone. So, it is amazing that I haven’t found anyone – who would want to be in a long-term relationship with someone who is emotionally unavailable?

So this new found interest in me as a person has me examining my wants and expectations of a relationship – because no longer is the third date elusive.

I’ve found in the two-date minimum world that most men want a woman who is a “domestic goddess.” While I hold some old fashion desires, i.e., men holding the door for me, etc., I have such an issue with the “domestic goddess” fantasy.

Whenever a man approaches me with the “do you cook?”, I am quick to answer no – because I don’t cook. Of course they all take that to mean that I can’t cook. No, I don’t cook. If given the right inspiration, I will cook; but if you are expecting me to audition my culinary skills, think again.

Besides, most women who work full-time careers – ‘cause men want us to be financially independent as well – are tired when they get home from an 8-hour day. Women in the new millennium are not our foremothers and we don’t aspire to be. Men, please let go of those antiquated out-dated sexist June Cleaver ideals.

I would love to have a man who wants to share the domestic aspects of our domestic partnership. I am a true believer of 50/50 and where you slack, I am happy to pick up. In my other relationships, there was the perceived notion that I would be responsible for certain tasks and chores – but it was uneven. They felt that because they worked “harder” than I did that I had more time to do laundry, cook and clean. How unfair. This type of scenario – especially if not agreed upon – builds resentment – on both sides. 

I want a partner more than anything else. I want someone who strengthens my weaknesses and not exploits them. I’ve had past relationships where I was honest and open and gave of myself – of course I’ve had some where I lied, shut them out and left them out there – and I found things that I may have said in confidence and trust used against me in battle. I don’t want to be with someone who places judgment on me. I know who I am and I know what I do – right, wrong, bad or indifferent. If I wanted someone to second guess me, I’d call my mother – that’s what she is there for.

Another recurring theme in the quest to formulate a relationship is men who are looking for the “perfect” person – you know, the one with no baggage or issues. I continuously wish them good luck on that search. Everyone off the teat has some issue with something. That’s what living is all about – having issues. Having issues isn’t the problem, how you deal with them and relate them to others is.

When I begin to tell the select few I’ve told the history of some of my relationships, they marvel at how “well adjusted” I am. What does that mean? Or they say something equally insulting, “That explains it.” Those persons are quick to get das booted to the curb.

Some people I tell as a way of testing them, to see how they respond or when they make it an issue for why I do what I do. While some of my life’s history may play a part in my dealings with people, most of it is ‘cause that’s what I do.

So, today, I find myself between a rock and a hard place. I find myself contemplating things that I only dream about – love, relationship and giving parts of me. I am also contemplating if I am ready for those things I dream about. 

I say this to say that I find myself stepping outside of my box and not certain as to how I will fare. Bare with me….