I came home from work, wrestled out of my clothes and into a hot shower. This is my normal routine.
Before I could fully unwind, I stretched into my nightie and got a text. It was important. As a writer you can always tell by the words used.
They wanted to know when I’d be free to sit down and talk in person.
SIGH...
An “in person” talk, eh? Cajoling me with an offer of food... yikes- this must be serious.
I implored them to call me, there is no hunger with “invitations” like this. Only unnecessarily, unnerving anxiety.
Just call me- and say what you gotta say.
Without going too far in depth with what that convo was about it was a big announcement. One that definitely warranted sitting me down, and I appreciated how respectfully they approached me but now I had to grapple with the news over the phone.
The conversation was heavy but we carried it. I offered my sagest advice. I tried to sound calm and wise and happy and cheerful and then I hung up the phone with a classy yet classic “Everything will be fine- don’t worry.” And of course, an “I love you” for good measure.
Then I sat with the news all by myself.
I sat with it because it wasn’t my news to share (yet). Because it’s technically not MY business- really. But it effects me undoubtedly.
I sat there thinking about how everything changes and how we must all adapt and about how much I wish I had someone to talk to about it. And how I really need a fucking “person”.
You know what I mean?
The first person you want to share your news with. The first person you want to call to tell them about your day? The person that always answers your call on the first try (maybe not the first ring) but you know they are “there”.
Who is your person?
Is it your spouse? Or your mother? Or your best friend?
Is it your lover who listens well or an almost stranger who pretends to listen.
Is your “person” the person you use for everything?
Cause I’ve been trying to make my “person” out of people— but with limited success.
Your person has got to be a safe space.
Someone who knows that the conversation ain’t for everybody and someone who is going to offer you kindness, and empathy and patience and wisdom. Or at best, three out of four.
I don’t want multiple people to be my person. I just want one person. One.
When I got that call tonight. I realized I was that person’s person in that moment. I had to listen and not panic and be strong and secure enough to quell their insecurities but I also had to get off that phone and search my mind to find someone to be my person too.
Who could I share this with? Who could I trust to just listen to me? Who was going to be able to say just enough or listen loud enough to me, for me to not feel so all alone in what I was dealing with?
With all these people in the world... why can’t I find MY person?
How come some people have so many people?!
And how many people does it take to make one “person”?
If your person is just one person— do you know how lucky you are?
If you have multiple people you can categorize as your person— do you know how incredibly lucky you are?
Sure I’ve got people. But I don’t have that one person.
And I don’t feel like I’m asking a lot, cause I only need one.
I ultimately called a friend of over 20 years tonight to be my “person” but he’s not MY person.
He’s a great person overall but he ain’t the one.
Neither are the people I chat with all day. The niggas in my DMs. Or the people I see...
I’ve tried to make people into my person, but that shit is hard work and a lot of wasted energy that I simply don’t have time for.
It’s so much deeper than all of these words but it just hit me.
And I started thinking about how I don’t have a “person” and that sucks...
And I don’t want to have to use multiple people to be my “person”.
And I’m sure I’m not alone...
Because every year, like clockwork, I get into a serious funk when my birthday comes along, I've decided this year- I was going to make a serious effort to celebrate! Please join me in celebrating #adifferentkindoffunk #celebratinglife my first birthday party in a LONG ASS TIME. Please come armed with hugs and ready to dance and have a blast!! Thank you to my friends @neffiwalker and @indigostylevintage for hosting and @odetobabel for being the space which brings us all together! Can't wait to see how many of you all show up 🤗♥️ #honeygrip
I swear y'all… this is the most romantic thing I’ve ever written…
Once upon a time in a small sector of our large world there lived a woman.
This woman (for the intense purposes of this story is me) anyway- there I was, this woman, who searched far and wide for a man who was charismatic, intelligent and thoughtful. Someone who was well spoken, physically attractive and dynamic enough that his beauty and brilliance matched her own.
This woman (me) met men all the time who were okay, and okay is OKAY. There is nothing wrong with okay, if you can stand it’s mediocrity. Some of the men had some of her list of qualities; however most of them didn’t have a majority. So time after time, in this quest to find the perfect man for HER (ME). She… I mean, I- would hit a snag.
I’d try multiple approaches, dating men who were merely okay, creating the rotation, going out with those guys who liked me more than I liked them and “trying to make it work”, lowering all expectations, settling for fuckshit and little dicks and of course, swearing off men altogether. And for all my earnest approaches- nothing seemed to work. None of this seemed to really satisfy me, I was either attracted to the guy but we lacked chemistry or found really nice guys who I just wasn’t physically attracted to. Guys who seemed very close to possessing all the qualities I desired but our timing was off or we didn’t want the same things and then of course I found one guy who was everything I’d ever wanted in a man. EVERY SINGLE LAST FUCKING THING- I EVER WANTED….. except HE WAS A HOE.
Sigh.
See. He was tall, dark, handsome, intelligent, well spoken, charismatic, narcissistic, full of himself, and KNEW he had what every woman desired and in this day and age, realistically speaking, how can a woman blame a man for taking advantage of odds stacked so high in his favor?
Because behind that polished and attractive veneer lied a fucking savage…
Dude had the most magical ability to make every woman feel like he loved her and for every love deprived woman walking around the try state area- how many of us could not help but fall under such a powerful spell?
We are magical, us black girls- but we are still mere mortals.
Aside from his most magical ability- women were also fiercely attractive to this guy. It seemed he could not go a day without women approaching him, wanting to sample his magic stick or test their own fortitude.
Every woman wants to be the one to make a player give up the game.
I am no different. I tried multiple times, in various ways to encourage dude to retire his jersey. But if one thing is true, it is this.
YOU CANNOT CHANGE ANYONE.
They have to want to change themselves.
So no matter what I did, or tried, I would find myself failing time and time again. And with each attempt, I would fail more miserably than the last. Yet and still, I still loved this dude with all my motherfucking heart.
I loved him enough to accept him, the good, the bad, the ugly.
I loved him enough to accept that he was a hoe.
I loved him enough to try and look past it- but sometimes that shit is HARD.
I know men have options but listen nigga, love is A CHOICE.
You have to CHOOSE to give up the options… You have to DECIDE to not be a hoe.
Can we be totally honest with each other?
Nigga. You a hoe. You love women, but not one woman. You love pussy, but not the deepness of the woman “behind” it.
Nigga. You ARE a savage. You love how women adore you, you love the attention they provide. You love the way they stroke your… EGO. You love your powerful ability to turn women into love sick slaves with the turn of your magic wand and then love to watch as all their defenses melt away. You love the comfort they each provide you. You love how each one swears their fealty to you, making you their King. Vying desperately, to belong to you, to be a part of your kingdom. Each patiently waiting to see if she has the fortitude to get you to hang up that ratty ass jersey.
Nigga… you too old to still be chasing pussy ain’t you?
Wait- how old is too old? I’m asking for a friend.
Pussy is ALLL the same, nigga. New pussy is a trick, nigga. Don’t you know that?
Stop abusing your powers nigga…
Nigga, stop being a hoe already and let me love you.
Let me love you. Properly. Let me love you unabashedly. Let me love you the way I’ve always dreamed I could love the man of my dreams. Let me finally release all these insecurities and be the dynamic lady I want to be. Let me show you how wonderful building a real solid intimate and MONOGAMOUS relationship can be.
Let me trust you so I can chill and relax. Let me let my guards down so we can be in love together and make the world vomit.
I just want to love you and be with you and belong to you and make the world vomit. Can we do that?
I mean damn! Is it possible… really
Can I turn a hoe into a housewife?
Can I walk down the street with you and not wonder if every girl who smiles at you is not some woman you’ve fucked?
Or if every other chick on your followers list is not as madly in love with you as I am?
Can I finally stop worrying over every other bitch on the planet?
Can I finally stop googling how to kill every other bitch on the planet?
Can I stop feeling so ashamed for loving you because you a hoe and just be able to be like: yeah, that’s my nigga now and yeah I know he USED TO BE A HOE ASS NIGGA BUT SO WHAT I LOVE HIM AND HES MINE.
Or am I forever doomed to be unsure because the truth is you can’t delete your hoeness.
Hoeness simply does not work that way!
Instead of sitting here at my desk rambling- and googling…
The old adage is that when it rains it pours. And on this one particularly cloudy day I sat in deep thoughts on the train.
I have to apologize because so many pieces of the puzzle are not entered here. I’m going to be honest and admit why that’s totally my fault. I got caught up and boggled down. By life and love and rotating. One guy found and read my blog and that suddenly made it difficult to write when I knew he’d probably bring it up. I was uncomfortable with that, so I felt super self-conscious and bottled myself up.
I hate when that happens…
I owe you guys some shit. Stories I shoulda been wrote about. But i need you to know; I’m a master procrastinator too.
There is the story one about a friend and more on the bearded stranger and the accidental date. I felt like I have to post it in order also. I didn’t want skip important pieces. Just thinking about it all makes me shut down right now- then I got distracted and the task was forgotten.
But anyway, back to my original deep thought.
As you all well know by now, I had begun the rotation because I had decided to stop limiting myself. I was determined to put myself back out there more socially but I wasn’t moving closer to finding all of the things I began to truly understand I had to require from men.
With The friend (I haven’t written about that yet) he had showed me a very important feature I had not seen in men in a long time. He was present. Perceptive. Attentive. Genuine. He was always eager to help me to improve on anything that wasn’t making me happy.
He was naturally sweet and romantic, thoughtful and extremely trustworthy. I can’t begin to tell you how wonderful it feels to be with someone you can genuinely trust. We could talk about anything without judgment or protest- it was an amazing space for the most part. It certainly helped to ease a lot of my insecurities, I normally suffer through with men. But there were also things I didn’t like.
I know most will question why I didn’t “make that work” especially if he possessed all those wonderful qualities and I would have to say that it just wasn’t meant to be. I didn’t want to settle on accepting the things I didn’t like; even to get all those other positives- it felt like I was limiting myself and I felt like it was too early into my return to dating to settle on that.
And so after that experience I decided to create the rotation.
The dating pool from which I have to pick is a little uninspiring. Sure I meet guys and I know how to actively put myself out there to meet them, but I always need a certain spark and very seldom do I find it.
The bearded stranger and I had it in seconds, initially. It was cute (the whole story) but I got bored super quick with what began to feel like a routine.
I hadn’t been actively single long enough to get boggled down in any routine- especially one I wasn’t totally head over heels for.
Then I met the accidental date guy and after the clash as a rough start, we hung out a few times on actual dates and he seemed like more fun, then things completely shifted-by which I mean quite honestly- I fucked him and the sex was waaay better-so I was instantly over any other routines. I’m a very simple girl at the root of it. (Ha! I gotta tell that story!)
Anyway, while the accidental date guy was fun for the most part he eventually began to stall out and I realized we couldn’t go much further than what that was.
It began to feel very adversarial as we clashed almost all the time. I mean, he was fun in the beginning, and i enjoyed it but certain shit just wasn’t adding up and my intuition was heightened. I just couldn’t ignore those ever pesky little inconsistencies that arise when a nigga start getting too comfortable in his treatment of you.
Like so many other times before, I had come to a point where some sort of inconsistency had shone through brilliantly like a diamond encompassed in dirt and when I pointed it out in a calm, rational, intelligent and unbiased manner it only caused tension which caused the relationship to fizzle. I used to try to ignore a lot of these red flags of inconsistencies and soldier on, hoping they’d get it together. I’m sure if I was really interested, I would’ve tried it with him but I didn’t- because that too, felt like settling and like I already said. :/
By this point- I’ve learned to not to ignore my intuition. All those times niggas tried to tell me I was crazy or insecure. I was right. Well right more times than I was wrong. I’m not saying I got ESP or no crazy shit, I’m just saying I can detect bullshit a little easier than others and since I ain’t with the shits- when I do detect it, I’m out.
I figured that I hadn’t come this far to be settling on any bullshit similar to what I had previously been through. Let’s be clear. I don’t want to seem naive, I’m not saying there isn’t going to be any bullshit at some point in a relationship. I just didn’t feel like I went through any of that (in the past) for any of this in these current situations. Otherwise I should’ve just stayed where I at least felt passion.
That had also become glaringly obvious to me as well. I needed a certain level of passion to be present with these guys that I was lacking in these particular cases. I didn’t just need a routine that helped me feel less lonely once in a while. Or good sex and frequent dates. That wasn’t enough. I couldn’t survive solely on romantic gestures and a strong peaceful bond. Nope. I still needed more.
“Maybe I’m just like my mother… She’s never satisfied.“
It was during the accidental guy’s tenure that I realized that I was still fighting for mediocrity. Like it clearly hit me: This guy wasn’t my fantasy guy; I didn’t even like him at first. He was just ok. He was an ok ‘placeholder’ but he wasn’t someone I could see myself with long term. I had just been so determined to have a relationships with men that didn’t require any drama or didn’t feel dysfunctionally complex that I was about to put in "extra hours” just to maintain status quo. I had to ask myself; why would I fight for mediocre? Why would I settle for trying to make a placeholder work? Especially when I knew he wasn’t the one.
Then one day- with almost impeccably random timing- I got a text from a number I didn’t know- telling me that I had crossed their mind and that they hoped I was okay. When I inquired about the identity of the texter-they never responded and I immediately thought it must be someone who probably shouldn’t have even been texting me in the first place. I ignored the message for about a month. I tried to take that as a sign of growth but then I got curious and I had looked up the number and much to my chagrin- the anonymous texter turned out to be exactly who I thought it was. I didn’t react though. I took solace in my growth, and how much I had healed myself. I was totally okay with leaving that small exchange exactly as it was- for almost a month- I didn’t question it.
And then one day, Prince died…
If you don’t know me in real life, let me just tell you that Prince was my favorite artist OF ALL TIME. He was my hero. Long before his death, he was a legend to me. My idol. So on April 21st, when the wave of rumors flooded my timelines that he had passed, I began to feel devastated in a way I hadn’t felt before.
I began to think about life and how short it all really is. And how much time I’ve spent trying to do the right thing because I wanted to stand by my principles and because I thought I was proving something to someone, somewhere- when I realized I was missing out on a whole host of things.
My life was seriously lacking. I wasn’t passionate about anything. I wasn’t pursuing my dreams. I wasn’t in love with anything. I wasn’t writing because I wasn’t living. I was still hurting and still restricted by fear and my pride. I had learned so much about myself but I still wasn’t applying many of the things I had learned to my life for various reasons but mainly because I was still scared. I was cold and indifferent and closed off. I wasn’t alive (inside).
The next day after Prince died I sat at work, like an emptied shell full of nothing but reflections, listening to his entire catalog and one person filled my bleeding heart.
I asked myself did I really want to spend my entire life trying to get over someone when I could find new ways to love them as they are. Make peace with the past and in turn…change direction.
At that moment I didn’t know how endless the possibilities could be.
I stared at my phone and contemplated. Did I really want to open this door?
I was already man-infested.
The bearded guy still called from time to time, he wasn’t a bad guy. I just knew I could do better.
And maybe the accidental date guy could still pull himself together in time, to try to recover…although I was sure I wasn’t interested because I could tell he wasn’t the one.
What if I really just listened to my heart?
Maybe it was time I stopped masking myself. Maybe I was still interested in that anonymous texter? Maybe it was time to admit that while he left me in tatters, he had never left my heart, or that I ever stopped wondering why it all played out the way that it did. All this time later, I was still questioning things. Still mad. Still hurt and still conflicted.
Maybe deep down inside with all this energy still there I was manifesting it.
If this was the case, I needed to open myself to the idea of facing my fears for the sake of some alternative to my current state of closure.
I sat there with a lump in my throat.
Was I really going to text back this “anonymous” number?
What if they didn't respond?
But what if they did?
Could I handle that…?
The lump didn’t subside.
I texted. Then I regretted it. Then I grew nervous.
I asked some innocuous question about Prince’s passing… then I shut off my screen. I didn’t want to dissolve in the time it could take them to respond.
Five long ass minutes passed with no sign of reply.
But just then, I saw the ellipsis (three dots) it seemed like forever for the message to come through. I could feel his contemplation, his apprehension, like he was pondering whether or not to open this door as well…
…
…
…
“Not really a fan” he replied.
I read those words and the lump in my throat settled politely in my chest.This was not romantic at all.
“Who is this?” he asked.
Welp, this was lackluster. At least he responded. I guess.
“No wonder we couldn’t get along” I thought and typed.
After all, I am no one. Just a Prince fan, hemorrhaging.
“A Prince fan. Sorry for the random text”.
Uh huh. Yeah… Where is this going?
"Who is this?” he asked again. “Name?”
My name wasn’t important. This was suddenly feeling like a bad idea.
“Just shows your 2nd tier passion” he wrote.
Excuse me- what? I thought.
“People don’t usually shoot for the second tier artists”
Spoken like a devout MJ fan.
I had to let that sit. The audacity to insult Prince to me the day after he died. I was most likely speechless.
“This is Regan”, he wrote.
He was fucking with me.
"People who like Prince are unicorns who don’t go for cookie cutter basic ass artists” I wrote.
“I should run away at this moment” he replied.
“Back to the cookie cutter basics?” I replied… Now I was fucking with him.
“Yeah. I know who this is” he retorted. “I hope you get over Prince’s death and other things as well.”
The statement sounded so condescending in that moment. Another callous instruction to get over it- whatever it was at that moment that was causing me such discomfort.
“Thanks” I replied as I began to shut back down.
I wasn’t going to respond again.
“FYI-he has 300 unreleased songs so you should be ok.”
I am tense now. This is not how I had wanted it to go. Stupid me.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. Thanks”
“Ok, Regan. Smh” he typed.
Not sure why he was shaking his head, he contacted me first weeks before and I thought better than to engage him but today under the current circumstances, I had gotten ahead of myself. Today I felt things differently.
My bad y'all- I’m human after all. And sometimes I let my emotions get the best of me…
You know, after taking more than a year to recuperate from all that bullshit that happened to me with Teacher and other fuckboys, it felt like it took me forever to come around to the idea of dating again.
I’ve been giving this a lot of thought and I’m sure SOME of ya’ll are not going to agree with this one… but here goes.
The time alone to reflect on my “Poor pussy management” by being “Blockedt & Delivert” allowed me to really take stock. I had time to focus on myself, to really analyze what I needed from another person and what I wanted to give of myself in my next relationship.
It toughened me up for sure and believe me, that’s saying a lot because I was never a pushover to begin with.
But now with all my wisdom; I find myself on a quest to get to the point with everything. I don’t enjoy playing games of any kind but unfortunately for me, the climate in the dating world in which we currently live, doesn’t allow me to avoid playing them. So if my hand is going to be forced like this, I might as well try to play smart.
I realized that the men that I come across now are less and less interested in the idea of courting as we traditionally know it, hell “dating” in general. Everyone is most comfortable with the ambivalence of “situationships”; content with “long term texting” and the advent of “Netflix & Chill” that it makes it tough as shit to break the ice and really get beneath the surface today, to the depths that create real intimacy that promotes REAL relationships.
HELL, it’s getting tough to find real SINGLE people nowadays…
Do you know how many “single on social media” people I know that are married, engaged or living with someone in real life? How many horror stories I’ve heard about some of my girlfriends seeing other friends’ husbands with active profiles on sites like Tinder and Soulswipe?
The answer is A LOT. A whole fucking lot. A very scary amount. So what’s a girl who’s still getting her sea legs supposed to do in navigate these dangerous waters?
I’ve found that most of these guys I come across are trying to use the “Put forth as little effort as possible while trying to obtain the maximum return” approach and whenever I encounter these types I lose interest quickly. I know myself, at this stage in life, I don’t like to be “slow walked”, especially as passionate a person as I am.
PLEASE DON’T HALF ASS ME BRO!
If you are on the fence about me in any way, the “really busy” type who is “struggling” to find the time to afford me the attention/affection I seek, I’m probably not the woman for you and I would advise any reasonable person to not waste their time with that nonsense.
The fact of the matter is, I have a phone full of men who are already trying to “come through and see me to chill” (NOT DATE) to choose from and I’m really not here for that shit.
See, what I’ve discovered about myself is that I’m not single because I’m broken or because I’m paralyzed by my past traumatic experiences. It wasn’t low self esteem that was making me unlovable and unable “to keep a man”, it was low self esteem that made me stay and wait for niggas who didn’t love me, hoping they’d realize what I was offering. That is where I was settling. I realized I was waiting for them to recognize because that’s what I thought women were supposed to do.
I’m not single because I can’t find a man or there aren't’ any good men around, I’m single because I can’t find a man I really want.
It wasn’t that I didn’t have other viable options, I just settled in on my favorite and decided to campaign for his love, and I did this because I sit and watch so many other women do it (some knowingly & some unknowingly) that I just thought it was par for the course. Prove myself as a loyal, good woman who waits on her man to grow up and get it together, trying to be the “ride or die chick”.
Now I speak to those same riders who are married to their “prize” man and listen intently to the messages hidden in between their lines… some married out of family pressures or societal pressures, because they reached a certain level in the relationship where marriage made sense or they had kids, etc. Now I hear the faint echos of women who use to tell me I was immature for wanting a passionate love affair filled with romance over the smarter, safer bet, a “good ass man” who will provide for you and his family but bores them to tears or cheats or neglects them because he’s got his own vices out there.
What does a woman like me do, when I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself? What do I do when that’s not necessarily my top priority when it comes to what I want or NEED from a man?
Should I hush up and settle on the safest bet too? Or should I go for what I want for right now…
Look. In a perfect world, I wish I could meet an attractive, self sufficient, gainfully employed, intelligent, articulate and emotionally mature and stable black man with a HUGE...heart, one that I was mutually attracted to. That is and will probably forever be my ideal; it’s what I dream about at night, it’s what I wish upon stars for.
The reality however is that, in this day and age, with what I’m left to work with out here. I’m going to have to be more resourceful. And now that I am actively out here looking and finding a lot of bullshit some qualities in some men here and there, my only real option at this point is to put together a rotation.
It’s kinda like playing the field and men have been smart enough to do this all along. The only bad part is that while men are socialized to play the field until they are ready to settle down and select one woman, women have been socialized to be “good girls” and wait to be selected.
Let’s stop that bullshit please, Shall we?
Instead of “settling” on the first half decent dude who comes around and simply trying to over come any of his shortcomings, how about I began to value myself as an asset by holding out and keeping my options open. How about I go against the grain and perhaps entertain many suitors based on what my needs are?
I thought about what I’m looking for in a man as a single woman and then I found this great breakdown of this theory presented as a basketball analogy that you can read here. But from me though, it’s going to sound less witty and more frank so hang with me, only if you can hang.
Let’s think of it as a starting five.
I need these top five qualities in my ideal man but I’ll resourcefully resort to enjoying these five qualities separately in less than ideal suitors.
1. I need a man I can talk to about anything. The guy that provides a good listening ear and great emotional support and advice, with this gem of a human, you can get your intimacy fix and often times the attention I require, because I need attention, and unlike most women, I’m not ashamed to say so. Please note, this guy is usually the best guy for us ladies, but most of us have relegated him to the friend zone.
2. I need a man who can afford to date. We’re being real here right? A lot of the guys I’m meeting are looking for cheap “alternatives” to dating, ie, coming over to “netflix and fuck/chill” and I’m just not interested in that, at all. Now usually as women we are willing to work with a guy who can’t afford to date us because we really like him and we forego the nice adult DATE because we are understanding of a niggas situation and I’m not with that bullshit so… what can I say?
3. The guy you can call anytime of the day or night when you’re in a serious jam and you know he’ll come running, no matter what, he’ll have your back. Whether it’s bailing you out of jail or loaning you a small fortune of money because hey shit happens, right? You are not normally going to find any “new” guys who are willing to take on this responsibility.
4. The guy that is good at fixing things. Like literally fixing things with his hands and a tool of some sort. You’d be surprised how many of today’s modern men don’t know how to hang a picture or put together Ikea furniture, let alone change a flat tire on the side of the road. So if you meet a man who can handle this, stash him in your arsenal.
5. I need a man I can fuck, or rather can fuck me. Is this one not self-explanatory? If it isn’t, let me break it down for you, I’ve gone without sex for well over a year, I don’t want a guy who doesn’t know what he’s doing or doesn’t do what I like to have done. So for that very reason I need a SLANGER on file, a “maintenance man” even if he’s only my “dick in a glass case” break out only in case of serious drought or emergency. I need to know it’s a sure fire, knock it out the park pipeman that I can feel totally comfortable with. But let’s also keep in mind; THIS type of guy is normally not going to be capable of offering you much more than that…
And before you get yourselves all in an uproar, let’s me make this one thing clear: Please understand that all these men are not mutually exclusive. I’m not advocating for women to be hoes and to fuck five different men, I’m merely advising single women like myself to DATE and enjoy their single-hood based upon their needs and desires. You don’t have to sleep with anyone, but try and be an adult about it, meaning, keep the communication open and honest between all the players on your team, otherwise this practice will make you no better than the fuckboys we should all be looking to avoid.
What I’m challenging myself to do is make due with what I’m being given to work with. Instead of giving up completely or nagging and complaining about all of the half ass men or fuckboys I regularly encounter. I’m choosing to get creative and to increase my possibilities of finding someone that works well with my particular set of needs.
It’s a numbers game…when you really think about it.
The real trick is to find a man who possesses as many of these “qualities” and build with him from there. But if you can’t ladies, at least we won’t be afraid of playing the field. That’s all.
Don’t miss out on great men or great dating opportunities for romance by sitting on the sidelines waiting on that one guy (you have “history” with) to get his shit together.
Give a good dude a chance! Preferably one who can take you out on a real date, or fix some shit around your apartment or can fuck your brains out.
Confession time: I hate self promotion. I’m not a convincer by nature. I’m more of a prover. I don’t know how to convince people to fuck with me, but I know how to prove why it was probably a good idea that you did.
That’s why I am always so reluctant to browbeat y'all on #twitter #ig and #Facebook.
As we close out of 2015, I’ve been looking back on all the messages the universe has sent me this year alone that help to illustrate to me, why I’m on my path and more importantly that I am moving in the right direction!
I have a lot of #kanye “I’m a visionary” moments (haha!) From my blog #honeygrip to the podcast show #twobitchestalking and the various projects I’ve been lucky enough to stumble into these last few months.
What I am creating with these forms of expression is honest, entertaining and deeply personal art. I invite you all to read, to listen, to be intimate with me. I love the random comments to me about how something I’ve shared has influenced someone. That really touches me so profoundly. It always makes me 😊.
I’m grateful that my experiences can inspire others but now I gotta stop bullshitting and start campaigning for more exposure.
Check out my blog www.honeygrip.com.
Read, laugh, love, cry, but most of all, please share.
#writer #blogger #flashbackfriday #fbf
