Lessons in Love

Yeah, yeah, yeah. I already know I'm going to hear some complaints about the length of this post, but... GET OVER IT. If you have a real problem with anything I write OR with how I write it, leave a comment, dammit. Otherwise, shut the f*ck up. (Jokes... sorta.)


Ok, people. So I met someone. And I like him. A lot. But I've been hesitant to mention him to my dear readers (although some of you - individually - may have heard me mention him once or twice... Or ten times!!). I guess the reason why I hesitated is because you've all heard me ramble on and on about MBF and how I feel about him. But the truth of the matter is that I've known for a long time that MBF is not right for me. I mean, he's a magnificent person and I think anyone who ends up with him will be very lucky to have him. But, as I told him recently "its become obvious to me that we are not right for each other and, so, I encourage you to be somebody else's blessing". And, I shit you not, I was dead ass serious.

MBF... Man, this dude does some nutso shit. It's hard to explain, but I'll try. Ok, for example, few months ago - at the beginning of the summer - he knew I was working like crazy with little free time to myself, so he offered to take me out for happy hour. And, I was really excited because I was Stressed (with a capital S)!! So, I met him at this lounge called Jin...

- Pause -

Sidebar: MBF, if you're reading this, I know you're rolling your eyes right about now and huffing and puffing with exasperation because you are tired of hearing this story. But guess what? I really don't care! The story I'm about to relay - that was some shady shit and I'm still pissed (despite your apology) and so I reserve the right to tell this story as many times as I want until I get tired of telling it!

Wooo-saah!

Ok, back to the story.

So, we're at Jin having a cocktail and eating wings. We're laughing and joking and generally having a good time together - as we always do. So, after we finished our drinks, we decided to move the party and head down the block to check out this other spot. We get there and immediately run into this guy that MBF knows from college. The guy MBF knows is sitting next to a girl with very pretty locs. I must digress again (sorry!) Ok, so, please understand that MBF must be the center of attention at all times. When women are around, there's no such thing as "laying low" for him. So, we sit at the bar. The order of our placement: guy that MBF knows, MBF, me, girl with locs. MBF proceeds to talk to homegirl - over my head. He compliments her and essentially tells her that if his homeboy hadn't already tried to holla, he would try. Huh? This dude is bold! At any rate, throughout the night the two of them continue to flirt - most of the time right over my head. I conversed with the guy that MBF knew and a few others while all this was going on. And I left the bar twice to use the restroom since my drink seemed to be running right through me. At any rate, an hour or two later, she got ready to move on to her next location and she gives MBF a hug, at which time I hear him say "I'll definitely text you later."

At that point, I saw red. Did this dude really just say that hed text her later? Which means that, at some point during the evening, he got homegirl's number. Now, immediately, I start buggin out. I saw red and I just got SO angry. The thing is, my anger didn't stem from jealousy, it stemmed from me being disrespected. I'm a firm believer in the Golden Rule, so you treat others the way that you yourself wish to be treated. I would never, ever, ever in a million years get another dude's number if I was out with a male friend one-on-one. Why? Precisely because I would never want one of them to do it to me.

Anyway, back to the night at hand.

So, I'm flabbergasted and I turn to the dude that MBF knows. "When did he even get her number?" I ask.

"They exchanged information while you were in the bathroom."

Damn. I can't even take a piss without this dude picking up chicks.

Well, at that point, I was done. As far as I was concerned, the night was over. I had nothing more to say and at that point I wanted nothing more than to be home in my bed. So, I grabbed my bag and made a beeline for the door. MBF, who wasn't even aware of the fact that I knew he had gotten homegirl's number, reached for my arm. I turned on my heel and went off on him. I'm pretty sure I made a bit of a scene, but at that point the last thing I was concerned with was keeping up appearances. So, I walked out into the summer night with MBF following me, repeating the refrain "What's wrong with you? Where are you going?", and the dude MBF knows following us. I am silent because if I speak, what comes out of my mouth will NOT be pretty. That is a guarantee. I walk to the corner, never facing MBF, and realize that I'd met him down here & didn't have a car. He was supposed to be my ride home. Shit! I throw my righthand in the air and hail the first cab that drives by and close the door in MBF's face as he's asking me for the 100th time what's wrong.

In the cab on the way home, I call Bestie and relay the entire story. And she listens and then calmly reminds me that MBF does this sort of thing to me all the time. Not necesarily as obvious as it was this time around, but he's always telling me about women he likes with little regard for how this information might make me feel. And then I think about how he basically told me a few weeks after we met that he wasn't sure if he liked me. He stated that as an observation, I'm assuming he was doing that in the interest of full-disclosure, but again he says this with no regard for how this might make me feel. The truth was, at the time I wasn't sure how I felt about him either, but I wouldn't ever TELL his ass that!

But that night that I left him in the bar. Of course, he blew my phone up for the rest of the night, but I ignored he until he switched to text messaging. Then, it dawned on me that this was a "teaching moment". Even if he couldn't get it right with me, goshdarnit, I'd make it so the next chick won't have to go through this bullshit. So, I sent him a 4-screen text telling him what I thought about his disrespectful behavior. He responded and apologized, but I still had issues with the way he handled that whole situation. MBF will always be my boy but he'll never be "my man", if you know what I mean. And thank God for that! As I told him recently, "You're my boy and I love you, but recently I've come realize that we are not right for each other. So, I encourage you to be someone else's blessing." And I meant it, too!

So, yes, it has become apparent that MBF won't ever be the man I would want or would need him to be! In my past relationships, I've nearly had to develop a marketing plan extolling my virtues and providing market studies on the dating scene just to get a man to commit. And after Mr. Ex, I promised myself that I wouldn't ever be with a man that I had to convince to like me. You either do, or you don't. And, if you do, your words AND your actions have to prove that you do... And that's why the new guy is so amazing. I don't have to guess at how he feels. He likes me and he's not afraid to show it (thank you Jesus!). And best of all, unlike MBF, he's been SURE about me from the start... Now, I'm not sure where this new thing will lead or whether it will even become a full-fledged "thing". But for now, I'm just enjoying the moment and going with the flow. This is unusual for me, but I'm learning to stop trying to control everything... and just live in the moment.

Life is all about lessons. And I thank MBF for the lessons that he's taught me. He's shown me what I want from a man, but most importantly, he's shown me what I DON'T want. And that is, perhaps, the most valuable love lesson of all.

Goodbye Summer!

I have received a few complaints from readers who said my posts were too long. One even said that my posts are more like book chapters! Lol! So, because I respect my readers and appreciate the fact that you read me at all, I'll try to be more concise from now on. And, because one "special" reader has threatened to take my life if I do another "to be continued" post, I'll stop doing those, too... For now. :o) So, today, I'm taking heed and posting something short and sweet - just some random thoughts about the most boring summer on record! Again, this was written on my Blackberry on the train, and since I'm at work and the day is already looking hectic, I don't have time to do a thorough edit. Basically, I'm asking you to please forgive any typos...

This morning, I got the shock of my life. I walked outside in my dress and 3/4 sleeved cardigan sweater and felt like I was about to turn into an icicle! I was FREEZING and, well, um... When the hell did that happen?! Literally, it happened overnight. I'm a DC native, but every year I'm reminded the hard way that DC has two seasons in place of the normal four. Here we only have HOT and COLD seasons. It honestly seems like there is no in-between.

Today is overcast and this morning I was chilly even with a jacket on. This makes me so sad because I wasn't ready to say goodbye to my good friend, Summer. Summer, Summer. Oh how I'll miss thee! Even though I only see you once a year, you are such a generous friend! I so look forward to your annual visits. And when you're here, the time just flies. Whenever you show up, you always bring good times. And you never arrive empty-handed. You bring me priceless gifts like block parties, loft parties, house parties, barbecues, fish frys, picnics, sunshine, gentle breezes, passionate romances, darker skin (sexual chocolate!), and lighter hair. Its a lovely time for all when Summer comes to visit.

But wait a second, now that I think on it, Summer wasn't such a joy to have around this year. Summer showed up empty-handed. This year, the only things summer brought along was work, debt, and more work! I mean sure, Summer showed up with some sunny days and gentle breezes, but I hardly got to enjoy them because I was... Yep, you guessed it - WORKING. And, to top it all off, Summer didn't host parties of any kind! I didn't go to a single party be it in a house, on a block, in a loft. Nobody barbecued a damn thing and fish frys? Fugeddaboutit!

Damn, Summer. Now that I think about it, you were a stingy mofo this year! But, still. I'm sad to see you go. And what's really unfortunate is that you've only just left, yet I can't wait for you to come back for a visit next year...

Sent via BlackBerry from T-Mobile

Spare the rod, Spoil the child?

This weekend, I was pretty sick with asthma and allergies. Lemme tell you, people, nothing is scarier than not being able to breathe. It is really not a game. That's some frightening shit. Anyway, needless to say, I wasn't up for much stimulation this weekend, so I took it really easy. MBF and I decided to hang out with my mom. He met my mom and I at our church because the Usher Board was having a cookout and the food was off the chain! There were barbequed ribs, chicken, fried fish, baked beans, potato salad, cakes, cookies, pies & ice cream. Good gracious! This is why I LOVE being a Baptist! You will never go hungry at a Baptist church. Lol!

Then, we decided to go to Starbucks and drink coffee and people-watch. People-watching is one of my absolute favorite things to do, so I was pretty much in Seventh Heaven (why do people say Seventh Heaven? That means there has to be at least six other Heavens out there! Weird...) drinking iced tea, hanging with two of my favorite people, and providing a running commentary of everyone who walked by. So, after a while, this White man (I promise that the fact that he's White is relevant to this story) and his child start walking toward us. All of a sudden, the child drops to his knees and refuses to get up. His father, clearly confused about what to do next proceeds to drag the child along the sidewalk. When he gets to us, he stops, and asks the child why he won't get off the ground.
"I'm tired!" the child snaps. "How much longer do we have to go?!"

The father stops and tries to reason with the kid, but he is inconsolable and unreasonable, so the father resorts to dragging him down the remainder of the sidewalk. The father seemed embarrassed, but not embarrassed enough. Like, I think that maybe this wasn't an isolated incident of dragging the child through the street.

I looked at MBF and said, "If that was my child, there would be no reasoning. There would be a butt-beating (or at least the threat of a spanking... I'm a big softie & probably wouldn't go through with it) and that would be the end. But when a child is being unreasonable and is behaving like a heathen he/she will be treated as such.

MBF said, “There wouldn’t be any reasoning because my child would never DO something like that!”

Touché.

Now, I fully understand that MBF and I can talk all day about the way people discipline because neither of us has any children. So, I’m sure that it’s much easier said than done, but it seems as though the answer is so simple. Put the fear into your kids and get the results you want.

My mother’s entire immediate family lives within 15 minutes of each other. I have five cousins – three boys and two girls – and we’re all around the same age. We were raised as more than cousins… we were like brothers and sisters. My two cousins D and E were closest to me in age and their mother and my mother are sisters. Because our moms are very close, we spent A LOT of time together when we were growing up. Our mothers used to take us shopping at the mall almost every weekend.

We had a routine. My mother would drive me to my aunt’s house. We’d get inside and I’d play with my cousins while our mothers talked. Then, they’d call us downstairs and make us use the bathroom in preparation for the “long trip” (in reality it was probably more like a 20 minute trip, but it seemed like a long-distance road trip). Then, just as we were about to step out of the door, they’d look at us and say in a very stern voice, “If you embarrass me in this mall, you are going to be in big trouble.” We’d get in the car and make our way to the mall and then they’d repeat the warning, “Don’t embarrass us in this mall… or else!” Well, the combination of the tone of voice and the menacing look was enough to keep me in line. I never once got in trouble while at the mall… or anywhere else for that matter.

Well, except for one incident.

For this story, I must go into the third-person. When Brown Girl was four, she was at her grandparents’ home with all of her cousins, aunts, uncles, and a few guests that her grandparents were entertaining. Brown Girl’s mama used to always pride herself on the fact that Brown Girl was not one of the grandchildren most likely to show-off in front of company. In fact, Brown Girl was generally shy and spent most of the time in her cousins’ shadow. On this particular evening, Brown Girl went downstairs to the basement, saw a can of Arrid deodorant on the couch, opened the can, and ate some of the deodorant. She is not sure why she did it, although she vaguely recalls that it had something to do with her newfound acquaintance with the concept of shock-value. And, boy, were the innocent bystanders shocked… and disgusted… to say the least. Brown Girl’s older brother, who was about 12 years old at the time, ran upstairs to snitch on Brown Girl to their mother. Brown Girl’s mama, stopped her grown up conversation, got out of her chair, came downstairs to the couch where Brown Girl stood eating deodorant, and – for the first and last time – tore Brown Girl’s legs up. Mama had always threatened Brown Girl with “do not to make me get up out of my chair… or else”. Brown Girl had never been sure of what the “or else” consisted of, but that evening, Brown Girl found out. Brown Girl’s brother, who had never seen their mother angry enough to lash out at anyone, began to cry hysterically (don’t tell him that I told you this) because he was so afraid.

[end third-person]

I never received another spanking in my life, although there were a handful of times when I probably deserved one. I don’t remember the details of that deodorant-eating day, but I vaguely recall a negative encounter with my mother that day. Honestly, I remember eating the deodorant, but not the spanking. I’m not sure what that means… maybe it means that I was more impressed by my own rebellion than the punishment that I received as a result of it, or maybe it means that I blocked out that negative experience, maybe it means that the spanking wasn’t as significant as my brother and mother like to recall, or maybe it just means that I’m getting old and don’t have the mental capacity to recall things that happened that long ago. Whatever the case, it’s more of a funny story than a traumatic event.

But I know one thing, whenever my mother looked at me sideways, I recalled the fact that she had spanked me before and she just might actually spank me again, and that was enough to keep me in line… So, maybe if that man had given his child one good lick, he would’ve been able to shoot the kid a look and make him think twice about crawling on the damn ground in front of hundreds of people.

(I know I’ll hear a bunch of objections and complaints regarding my idea of rearing a child, but I plenty of folks have been spanked and still turn out to be normal and functional human beings. So, if you happen to disagree with my methodology, then make some suggestions for better ways to handle out of control kids. Please… I welcome your suggestions.)