Ann-E is Real, She Don't "Bug" Out

Even though a new year is upon us the n*ggas are still out chere running amok.and even though it happens to the best of us - the n*ggadom MUST be identified and made known as a shared experience.

The start of our story is where many of us have been left. I was a smitten kitten who had been snubbed. Normally this is where the story would end. Since I hadn't given up all the goods I could still walk away with yet another unresolved case of WTF-happened mind-fuckery even though I was hurt. As a smitten kitten, I went hard in the paint and based on the accompanying loin-stirrings that are very elusive to me in general - the method in which I got snubbed had me tighter than a virgin..and sadder than a virgin who loses it to a total asshole. 

"It happens to the best of us" is what my team consoled me with. "It's not you, you did nothing wrong." The one thing I did take solace in is that my team was actually proud of me in the male department (well kinda, but small strides!) I mean I did and have come a long way from actually not even putting n*ggas through the ringer for the sake of the short-term attention but damn. N*ggadom is cold and spares no feelings...especially those of the smitten & sensitive. As I prepared to just kick rocks and chalk it up after being all sad and shit - it hit me as I caught the only visual of the last time I was at ol n*gga's crib. This n*gga who from herein will be referred to as the SKK (smitten-kitten killer) had something that belonged to me.

Now I'm going to make this crystal clear - what he had was something that I plan on using for my nonprofit and it took me time to accumulate these things - over a year and lots of magazines. It wasn't some draws I could buy at Vicky's for $3.99 during the semi-annual sale, or some costume jewelry, or a pencil case, or some make-up. This stuff was in my Gilded Gold UPenn folder. The contents within were not about to take up an extra 20 hours of my life when the SKK couldn't part with 2 minutes of his own to text me back and actually make good on the 3 attempts I made in earnest to reclaim what was rightfully mine.The SKK know good and damn well he ain't and will never be a Quaker - and I take my Penn para to heart.  I wasn't charging my shit to the game. And anyone that knows me, knows I take my time & my business VERY serious. He actually quipped one time "I don't want no problems with Ms. Anne." But in the land of n*ggadom words hold little weight and showing your ass to nice people is how it does down. But I was still cordial in my attempts because that's just how I do.

I thought about the possible routes I could take. I just wanted my folder & its contents and surely I wanted it before the new year so this chapter could end. Since the SKK would never answer the phone - I mean just asking and dealing with his ass like a human being who has fingers and a vocal cord wouldn't work at this point. After being snubbed and not getting any responses to my text messages (which for the record is O-D disrespectful, my #1 pet peeve, and unwarranted) I had to go with the method that I knew would yield the result I needed just to get my shit. 

So all of the above (plus some other egregious n*ggadom that shall remain omitted) and my thought process in parenthesis is what led to this alleged "bugged the f*ck out" that the SKK thought he was accusing me of: (but really was guilty of).

Attempt #1: (a very SPECIFIC request for a nice and quick transaction) Hey, can you let me know a day and time when I can get my folder and I'll come and get that. Thanks. (via Facebook because n*gga I know you seen my message, so you can't bullsh*t you're way w/my stuff forever)

Response #1: "You can get it whenever you want" (the SKK happened to be a year younger than me and I shoulda known confound it! How you reply to something specific w/something vague - games :-/)

Attempt #2 (Part 1): okay I'm going to come today, Sunday at 7pm to pick it up (no n*gga I'm not coming after hours b/c I just want my stuff and I'll be out of your life) ~message seen at 10:42am

Me at 6pm via text (since now an appointment has been established we can revert to the method which yielded no response before) I'm on my way just running a little late (still being polite! Damn She's a nice girl!)

the SKK: "On your way where?....Yikes I'm on my way out of town"

Me (WTF?! Yousa a real n*gga so I'ma try this one more gain) Can you let me know a specific day and time to get this? (I used the word this time so his educated yet n*gga mind could compute) 

the SKK: "I'll ket you know when I'm back" (mind you there was a phone call that he never made good on making so I was already skeptical but would you trust a person like this to f*ck with the postal service on your behalf? Never mind my battles with mail ::rolls eyes::)

Attempt #3: the SKK hit me up, but I was on a date so I replied the following day bright and early with my nicely packaged focus on getting my stuff. The set up was made, the SKK hits me with the curve talking about he has plans and to come after work...I agree (eyes on the prize). It's 5 minutes to quitting time and the SKK is texting with the "pressure" about how he has to dip in 45 minutes.

(REALLY?! It took a lot after a non-answered phone call to just get a damn arrangement in place and a text with MY original plan to get my stuff Guess it sounded "better when he said it". :-/)

Later this evening arrives and the team is already aware that I'm getting my shit. You see the problem when n*ggas meet real is that they don't honor their word and my word is bond. I text before I showed up but since I got no response I went according to the plan. 

It was late - I'll admit that, but karma had it for me that the doors were open :-). So I went in said good evening to the SKK's boy, saw his lady friend's bag, knocked on his door twice, didn't look him in the face and asked for my stuff with my hand out. I bid them ado and left. No scene was caused, no one was checking to see who the SKK was smashing cuz I know I certainly don't care, no yelling ensued, but I did as was PLANNED - and the SKK didn't. 

As long as this post is, a fair amount has been omitted. All those attempts and for what? I have no idea. My logic is if the SKK was gonna snub, snub right and give me what was mine if getting me gone was the goal.  Or is control that hard to come by that you really have to do this with MY belongings and at the expense of a lot more wasting of MY time? You already got some new 'nani so it couldn't possibly be that. Apparently the SKK felt some type of way about it, since he thought he could come out of his face (like most n*ggas) and try to "tell me about myself" when I know he didn't know me well enough to even have a say. 

But because I know what it is, it happen way too often, and because it's important to be clear that I will not let anyone try to place their n*ggadom on me - let this account show that Ann-E is real and I don't "bug the f*ck out." 

Since My Personality Has Rendered Me Dead To Dating

I lounged at home flipping through one of my old Elle’s magazines looking for fabulosity and flyness and as always had to read Ms. E. Jean’s advice column. I am addicted to comedy come from the often silly, sometimes ridiculous, always entertaining titles and gushings from these people. Apparently my hubris up until that point allowed me to think of myself as just another person finding comfort in other people’s mess until I read the final line in this Ask E. Jean: Picking Up the Dude’s Vibe.

Contrary to the title’s message, this flabbergasted, flustered, femme (FFF as she will be referred to in this brief summary) was shocked into emailing Ms. E. Jean by the discovery of something. Picture scenario:  FFF has boyfriend of 3 months; he moves to a new place; boxes are everywhere when FFF visits said new place; FFF comments on the boxes everywhere; boyfriend laughs (type of laugh not mentioned- but may be of some relevance) and points to the vibrator on the coffee table that belonged to his ex-fiancee; but as boyfriend quickly adds “has been cleaned and sterilized and is still fully operational.” POW. That was the personal Pearl Harbor gem FFF was dealing with.

FFF’s need to talk about it while boyfriend is at work, her question about his feelings, and his eventual Houdini disappearing act prompted FFF to seek some type of post-bomb shelter in Ms. E. Jean. And of course being the direct debutante I’ve come to like E. Jean ends her advice to FFF with:

 “Talking kills your mystery. And when you kill the mystery, the guy does not call back.”

BOOOOMMMM! There went my personal Pearl Harbor gem dropped in my face.

I’m a talker. I’m known for this. It’s like when you think of Anne one of Top 5 thoughts after knowing me is “man that girl can talk,” “damn you talk fast,” or “how did you end up on that topic?” My college roommate used to say that “Anne lives vigorously in the real world” and well to the extent that I am also real with myself – shit I know I talk a lot.

Suddenly E. Jean’s pairing of talk and mystery brought it all home and shed a little light on why my dating – and by dating I mean ACTUAL dating, not just fucking as I believe many blacks have come to use the word (another post- another day I.J.S.) has been DOA.

I also took E. Jean’s talk/mystery combo and combined it with what my friends tell me “Anne, you gotta tone it down” or “You know how you do, just don’t say too much” and got some more insight into the lack thereof of a viable bench of potentials. Truth be told most of my friend’s advisements were met with questions of a wide-eyed girl. Seriously. How does one “tone oneself down” but not look crazy after the volumized you comes out 2 months later? How am I supposed to “not say too much” when guys ask questions and hell, there’s nothing else to do BUT talk on a damn date? How do you reel yourself in? When do you reel yourself in? 

Reading a very prominent personality trait you have as a reason a guy doesn’t call back leads to public therapy by way of this blog post, but really it might have been the CPT working and CPT – Couch Potato Thoughts are real.

When else do you have time to ruminate in the thoughts that almost never occupy more than 10-15% front brain space? Another CPT thought that occurred to me was that I’ve never been good at frontin’ in any way. When I’m tired you can tell, when I’m excited you can tell. This isn’t a “woe is me” self-hate session either. Again, IJS. I don’t get the point of “toning down” and “having some mystery” when it’s no mystery that dudes be dippin! Houdinis are a real situation out here – f’real. For all the games and rules to dating I would sincerely prefer to focus my death sheath of gab on the multitude of places it actually benefits me outside of dating.

For all the mystery I don’t have according to the tumbleweed-ridden barren field that is my singledom, I certainly have had more than one too many free drinks, the clutch-move free club entries, presentations, refunded credits, and other things that have certainly made my gift of gab worth it. I may not say that on a first date – but it’s a big part of who I am and I can live without a shroud of “mystery” surrounding me. I’m sure I’ll be alright – and if I’m not you can find solace in the fact that one day my story could be one of your comedies come from the often silly, sometimes ridiculous, always entertaining titles and gushings from me.

Eternally Single

Spring has sprung and the ones that were once canoodling in the crevasses of their ladies’ bosoms are preparing for their summer breakaway. As for me.....

Considering the change of season, and my (still) new location in TX - the more things change the more they stay the same. I am now officially in my 6th year of single-dom and quite frankly I've come to accept the loneliness that comes along while driving in this lane.

I wanted to write about this since I know way too many eligible viable, sex kittens who would love to play with one - or maybe two ;-) bachelors-with-their-lights-on. Of course all of you may not be aware of what this means but that’s where I come in. They're not the single guys that are okay with being in single-dom....you know those guys. I mean after 6 years in the trenches I'll spell out both real quick so we're on the same page.

Bachelors who want to stay single:

1. make it a point to let you (or any other somewhat interested party) that they're just trying to "chill"

2. they call on an irregular basis and act as if you are supposed to jump at the chance to chill with them – even though like their phone calls this would most certainly err on the side of inconsistent at best

3. they more than likely won't call but will text you with the same requests in #2

4. they don't act interested beyond when they are forced to be around you, and even then the ratio of interest in you is < 65%

5. you hold no weight and this translates into never knowing what he has planned, never (or rarely) getting around to hanging out with this guy even after some (what you thought was) great sex, great one-time conversation, or any other inclination to think he was digging you

Bachelors-with-their-lights-on

do ALL the opposite of the above + the following

1. added points of contact randomly throughout the day to bring up something yall have spoken about at some point prior

2. recalls details you swore he might have missed

3. go out of their way to make you feel nice and/or special

4. Let you know that they're down to be on a team with you if you pay attention

I only bring up these distinctions (and of course I have ppl reading this like "these are such generalizations, it can't be that simple!"

or

Maybe you're one of the folks reading this like "duh this is common sense"

But what I’ve realized is that common sense – as providence would have it, is really not so common.

There also exists a middle ground that at this point I would happily settle for since according to every article written about black women in the past year: I’ve been marked with an X on my forehead and they’ve deemed me an old maid at the young, tender spring-chicken age of 25 thanks to my desire (of all things) to be educated and have 2 degrees!

Before I go into what I would deem as a small slice of paradise, and welcome respite from abject singleness, I must say that I am one of the few people who readily admits my faults. That being said,

I. Loathe. Starting. Over.

Thinking back to all the 30 day runs I've had with guys who were "interested" [substitution more than acceptable here for "I just wanna smash and will wait 30 days to do it"] none of them showed that they had their lights on. Then again another problem of being single for such a long stretch is that you start going for the unavailable as I have done quite a few times.

Ladies you know what this “unavailable” that I mentioned looks and feels like....

"He just broke up with..."

"He said he's not looking for anything serious but...," he has a college degree, a career, and he looks GOOD!

Just like a rusty car salesman if it sounds too good to be true it probably is...I mean some part of the mental process tells you that, but in an effort to get some spice in your life you just ignore the mental flags and follow your dumb ass heart. For me, I really just go gaga for the adventure of having some interesting conversation piece when I give my friends updates on life so far from home. You say “tomato” I say “tahmahto” meh.

One other thing, yeah I said dumb ass heart....

Since when has the heart been associated with rational decision-making? Just ask all the mistresses in the world how they started fucking with what wasn't theirs - or the women who know they're the side piece how it went on for so long....

The heart in essence doesn't need too much to react...It's quite easy to pull heart strings - especially after not having had someone for a long time. Or conversely just ask any 60 year-old man lover of bacon why he just can’t walk away even after the triple bypass…

That being said, I am eternally single because my heart is in solitary confinement and just like in the penn, you gotta come with some serious good behavior to get it out.

Notwithstanding my heart's condition right now (and please don't read this like "awww" because I am perfectly comfortable being single) there are adjustments I have made to be better equipped for riding solo.

1. I used to say I was “in like” with the fling du-jour. Well – I don’t LIKE anyone....Like to me is such a strong word that requires so much investment in knowing things about a person...I like to say "interested" or "intrigued"

2. I enjoy my own company....WAY MORE than the average person out of circumstance & experience (I pledged as a solo) more than anything else...but I still have a select few I can chill with and do things with if I feel inclined to they’re just not men.

3. I've stopped associating certain things with couples...see this is one of those tricks to avoiding afflictions of “the bitter bitch syndrome” ...Movies have come off the couples list, hell I even took dinner off the list cuz a bitch loves to eat and there's nothing wrong with going out to do what I love...

4. I've stopped EXPECTING....this is one of the hardest things I think… but I genuinely don't expect shit. It makes dismissal that much easier when you're not caught up in feeling like "damn I at least thought..." think nothing...you meet a dude and give your number don't think he'll call, and really don't expect a great conversation either...lest you find out he lives with his mother or has *4 kids by 3 different baby mamas

*[true story…but for some other post!]

So...what can an eternally single young lady want? I just want a kick-it buddy....this person has to be single in the event that something other pops off later and also because you don't want anyone getting into problems because of you...unless you rockin’ that Trife crown (I just believe in Karma)

Cuddy-Buddy (CB)

Aa cuddy buddy is someone you can chill with, be intimate with, and most importantly CHILL WITH...nowadays no one wants to be friends...

SB: I will give it to guys in NYC, they do hit you with the "Can I be your friend?" when you try NOT talking to them b/c you "have a man" but I'm just saying I never made any friends off the streets and why are you out here exactly? Friendship status denied just on the strength....End SB

I really would love someone to do what I ALREADY do...and that's the beauty of the simplicity of what I want. You could essentially chill with the next bitch on Thursday, Monday, or any other damn day when I feel like being on my solo shit...cuz at this point you're just a cuddy-buddy. You're not my man, I'm not your girl, shit we do is cheap since we just chillin so as far as the tab goes hopefully you're a gentleman and I'm good...(I’m just sayin…)

CBs are great for the eternally single woman because answering to anyone is not my steeyo right now. At all. So being claimed by a man is jumping the gun especially if I barely know your ass...and nowadays ppl do rush into shit to find out months later they have some significant deficiency that the other can't stand...But back to the matter at hand – CBs are also great for the following situations:

1. it's raining/snowing/cold outside and you just wanna be in the bed without turning the heat on...get some dvds going, a L if you and your CB do that, and let the body heat and laughter proceed

1a. you need a L and since you've had a few to the face this week, you figure why not share the fun with someone else's “cookies”?

2. you don't want to be subject to the constant stares without cups coming your way, obnoxious drunken folks slippin and sliding all over you i.e. the club but you want to get out of the house and look decent...CBs can be "One call away"

3. you want some company and you’re tired of hitting up your lady friends

The beauty of a CB is that you can still both be dating or sexing others....cuddy doesn't always mean going all the way, shit it can be an added bonus if you look at it from that POV too..either way, it's a simple thing to get to, I mean if my 30 day runs could have manifested in CBs that would have been fabulous...but they weren't technically driving in that lane....

Now that I am aware though I'm definitely pushing hard for that lane now and to all those who suffer with me in single-dom it's the smoothest transition a girl can hope for these days....

Cue ::Jason Derulo's "Riding Solo"::