Where Yo Man At???

Yay! I'm back from my #Dirty30 festivities! Thanks to everyone for the love!

Let's keep it real. I'm a decent looking kid. I'm not your average woman. I am not a size 8 and do not aspire to be. I like artsy things and unconventional places. I keep weave hair in the trunk of my car. My shoe game is pretty impressive. I'm definitely an original by any standard, yet I find it difficult to find someone that is even down for a Starbuck's session. I like to go out and have a little fun every now and again. But, apparently getting a date requires a percentage of detectable, injectable plastic or an advanced degree in whoring, neither of which I am in possession of.

With all that being said, I still find myself catching the eye of a gentleman every now and again. But, that's usually where it ends. They look and say nothing. Smile, nod, and never break stride. Guess I attract attentive mutes or something. *cue Kenan Thompson* What's up with that??

I learned a long time ago that if you don't speak up, you WILL be ignored. Rejection is a part of life, so in some cases, it was better to get the "no, thanks" out of the way instead of sitting around twiddling my thumbs and staring at the phone. That's yielded a 50/50 result for me.

I remember writing a detailed (read: long) e-mail to a classmate expressing my interest in taking things to another level and getting an equally detailed (read: soul crushing) e-mail from him stating why he wasn't interested. But, hey, at least I was aware, right?? *tear drop*

Now, ever so often, one of the mutes decides to dead his inner Helen Keller and strike up a conversation. And for some, that's when I realize that he should have kept walking. For those that pass the preliminary interview stage, there is a usually a key phrase uttered in the next round that solicits an immediate and involuntary *side-eye of death* stare:

"You're too (insert potentially polite adjective here) to be single. Where's your man?"

I don't know if they teach that line at Mack Daddy Academy or if it's one of those things pubescent boys are taught to say to chicks right after they're given their first wallet condom. Either way, it is the epitome of a backhanded compliment. What is essentially being said is:

"You are very (insert same potentially polite adjective here), but there has to be something wrong with you to not be in a relationship."

And, men, even if that's not what you meant, that's what I heard. I have yet to hear a woman come at a man with the same line. It reeks of judgment and I say this after polling several other women on how they respond to the same line. So, it's not just me.

If there is actually someone who has enough sense to not insult or piss me off during the initial conversation, there is usually one MAJOR issue blocking the arrangement of a social outing, outside of scheduling: After asking for a phone number, the fool won't call.

Umm, why ask for a number if you're not gonna use it?? I'll wait for an answer...

That makes absolutely NO sense to me. Why go through the trouble of requesting a number that you're never going to call? Did you have a bet with your 30-something that the first dude with 5 numbers today gets free lunch? Do you call 411 and ask for random numbers not to call, too?

But, despite these constant and troubling pitfalls, I'm gonna keep trying. There's gotta be a coffee-drinking, movie watching, dinner eating guy in the LA area that'll call sooner or later.

Letting Go...

I know that it's officially a week until Valentine's Day and all, but I am feeling compelled to write about the loss of love. Well, at least the loss of what I thought may have possibly been love. I don't write this from a bitter place, but rather from point of gratitude. Sometimes, we need to get rid of hindrances in order to prepare for the receipt of greater things.

In the last two years, I have lost three men in my life that I never would have imagined would go. One of these men I loved romantically. The other two were connections that I had never experienced nor doubt that I will ever experience again. I'll give a brief summary of each to catch you up. Ready??

The first man... Without question the most physically attractive man I have ever been involved with. Everything and nothing all at the same time. All the relationship, none of the commitment. Terrible communicator with a good heart. Affectionately distant. *My Heart*

The second man... The unexpected connection. Friends on levels that most involved people never get to, minus the physicality. I'm talking telepathy, finishing each other's sentences, same likes, similar dislikes, matching attitudes. And we danced. *My Mind*

The third man... The jumpoff that stayed around. The puppy dog that adored me, yet pissed on my favorite shoes after he chewed the heel on them. Unnaturally attached and dependent upon me. Cried to me in private and lied to me in public. Your quintessential shady bastard. He tried, but sincerity just wasn't his strong point. *My Pain in the Ass*

*My Heart*

I was smitten with this man from the minute I saw him. Just a big 'ol, chocolate, dimple having, piece of gorgeous. When I gave him my number, I told him to list me as "his wife" in his phone. (I know, I know. Lol.) What resulted from that night was two plus years of affection, beautiful moments, estrangement, teeth pulling, ignoring, pleading, and finally, a realization. Without the right words, I was just hoping against hope. I had to stop chasing him because he didn't want to be caught. Not by me, at least. The release wasn't easy, but it was so necessary.

*My Mind*

Unorthodox beginning to a truly unorthodox relationship. Met online, considerable age difference, from different places in the world, but there was something there. The more we spoke, the more quickly the Grand Canyon became a crack in the sidewalk. But, though it all sounds like sunshine, there were plenty of storms. There is something so delicate about a man in transition. In my own way, I tried to be supportive, but sometimes, my extended hand of friendship was seen as a jab at his manhood. And as a man, he moved to defend his manhood by lashing out. Yes, I know it was coming from a place of pain, but it was still too much for me to endure. I had to let him go to heal himself. The sad part is that what we had, a genuine friendship and connection, can never be recaptured.

*My Pain in the Ass*

I blame myself. I should have ended this one before it got as far as it did. Shoulda stopped the good time where it was. But, no. So, I endured almost 4 years of lies masquerading as adulation. I mean this guy would start using words that I used. Wanted to eat where I ate. Work where I worked. Became very jealous of *My Heart* when he entered the scene. Enough was enough. Had to remove the leech. The drain was too much on my life.

I learned a lot from all of these situations and I definitely thank God for the lesson and the experience. I have grown as a woman and evolved into a better person for having gone through these relationships. I love me a lot more and welcome the more suitable replacements into my space.

For Colored Girls Who Will Never Watch That Damn Movie Again...

Ok, so I know I am late in seeing Tyler Perry's For Colored Girls..., but I promise y'all that I could have gone my whole life without it. I'm the first to admit that I have not read the original play by Ntozake Shange (stone me later) nor have I seen any productions of the play, but I can assure you that neither will disturb me more than this movie did.

I think that the reason that FCG hit me so hard was that I was not forewarned by ANYONE about it. I did not go see it in the theater (Thank Black Jesus), but those that I spoke to that did said nothing more than "It was good" or "Tyler did a good job" in reference to the quintessential "How was the movie?" question. At least I got some honest feedback on Precious, which led me not to see that movie. (And you can't make me see that isht, either!)

The only conclusion that I can arrive at is that people were either stunned into silence or signed some kind of gag order upon exiting their local Magic Johnson Theater to not speak on this work. Funniest thing is that EVERYONE I have spoken to about the movie has felt the SAME way that I did. I tore back into the dvd cover after the movie was over looking for the necessary upper that I was convinced came with movie. I found nothing and had to talk myself out of jumping off the nearest curb.

To those I spoke to who did NOT forewarn me, I curse you in my best Florida Evans voice: "Damn, Damn, DAMN!!!"

OK, deep breath. *Woo-Sah*

For Colored Girls... is the unforgivably tragic story of nine women in NYC. They range in age from 16 to 60+, with each enduring their own personal crisis and we get to watch the aftermath. Issues range from rape, abortion, downlow husbands, whoredom, chronic nosiness, and "a piece of man is better than no man" syndrome.

Let me just tell you that the cast roster was indeed impressive. Whoopi Goldberg, Loretta Devine, Phylicia Rashad, Thandie Newton, Kerry Washington, Janet Jackson, Anika Noni Rose, and the MOST cryingest Black Woman in Cinema History, Kimberly Elise.

Side note: I found myself EXTREMELY grateful that Mariah "MiMi" Carey-Cannon backed out of this project. I don't know that I could have stomached her in any of these roles. I'm not the only one that saw "Glitter"...

What was not impressive was the fact that all of these women played the same women that they ALWAYS play, except JJ. Y'all know she doesn't get the chance to act often and we know why. Loretta Devine was the continuation of Gloria from Waiting to Exhale. Kimberly Elise was the snotting mother who couldn't find her way out. And I honestly expected Phylicia Rashad to bust out with some Claire Huxtable Spanish in the hallway at some point.

While I did not expect this to be a feel good experience, I was not ready for the continuous downward spiral into the land of depression and despair. Here are my main gripes.

• Kerry Washington's character was the WORST social worker in history. Period.
• Ain't NO way on God's green earth or in hell below that Macy Gray would be allowed to go ANYWHERE near my lady parts. No, sir! No, ma'am!
• Janet didn't smell penis on her husband's breath when he came home at night? Yeah, OK...
• I had to turn the volume down every time Loretta Devine came into a frame. Why big chicks always gotta be loud? *side eye*
• Thandie Newton is generally awkward when she tries to be all sex-kitteny.
• Anika Noni Rose came off real naive a la "Lorelle" in Dreamgirls. "I's a woman nah!"
• Whoopi sweated like a slave in that movie. All that white did NOT keep her cool.

While this whole post may seem like one giant nit-picking session, I bring it home to one major problem: The writing. The story was written like a musical without the music. The characters would be having a conversation and, all of a sudden, the Colored woman in question would start speaking in flowery language or couplets. There was no fluidity to the incorporation of the original text into Tyler's new fangled storyline. Not that I expected Madea to have a cameo on a stoop or anything, but come on, son, connect the dots.

If there's anyone out there who still wants to see this movie after reading my review, inbox me. I'll mail you my copy.