Just Do It

I am so thankful I don’t hang around people who don’t talk about shit. You know those people. All the talk about is baby mama drama, some new kicks, niggas, money, bitches, hood gossip, and Lord knows what else could be so intriguing about NOTHING.

I wish I could say I spend countless hours trying to solve this eternal mystery but because I don’t frequent the coop to get the latest chicken grease this thought has only crossed my mind a few times when I hear snippets of those convos.

Nigga. What exactly do you DO?

What is your raison d’être to be on this fuckin block. Like the stoop holds itself up. Does Q’s (who’s real name is unknown to you and forbids him from having a job that pays more than $40K/yr if that) baby mama and kids even care about YOU and your kicks?

I can’t.

“For all the things we must do, doing is the first step”

The Nike slogan never appealed to me until I turned 25 years old, had even more time to think about myself, and took a survey of those around me.

Those who I chill with;

those who I’ve left behind – but FB reminds me of their domesticated lives;

those who I’ve had to unfriend because - my nigga you aint talking about SHIT on here. And when I get there you won’t be buying my products like that.

Look I’m just saying what yall know yall be thinking when yall see those comment threads from elementary school with you tagged from class 313, 412 at PS-whatever…I had NO COMMENT for that thread cuz I can’t be bothered with the past…

But I do focus every now and then on my friends now. I just have to say that I have a phenomenal set of friends. And this is not the type of fake, valley girl Like. OMG! My friends are AWESOME! Nah they’re all intelligent, goal-oriented, responsible, but fun young ladies who can throw down if a bitch come out her face but we don’t do that because we grown type thing and eat sushi and have mimosas and go to brunch type girls.

All my friends stay in their lanes as I do and make it do what it do. Disclaimer being said, I’m still just a do-er. Now I truly believe that I am very different than most people. Who ups and moves clear across the country because the internet said there’s black single guys (yeah that was one of the reasons I’m not even gonna put myself on frontstreet.net) and to be a teacher? Who else goes to Belgium to live for 2 months to learn French?

I’m not tooting my own horn. On the contrary I’ve just come to realize that, those things that I do which are weird – even to me, are because I’m a DOER. Once I put something into the universe AT LEAST 3 times I HAVE to do it.

It’s just this thing I’ve developed from reading The Secret and being really faithful in God’s power to see me through some ::Flamin’ gay bestie voice:: hot ass messes.

Being a doer is about pulling the trigger. I often use the shopping analogy when it comes to this. Being a recovering shopaholic but always a savvy shopper, the best purchases are those that you know through experience and analytics present a deal that you’ll miss if you don’t buy right then and there.

When I decided to move to Texas for example, it made sense because I could at least get a job and live a cost effective life where I would get to actually use the car I was paying for… Even if I was relegated to poverty! A steal in the best of places considering I have not been out of work for long stints since being here (vs. almost 2 yrs in NYC).

When I took my position as an Americorps VISTA, although I knew it wouldn’t make me rich – I knew the opportunity itself would bring about things that I could never have asked for even if I had a higher paying job. I also had no other prospect at the time and after praying to God, we decided that I was right at the bullseye and had to pull the trigger.

I’ve found that a lot of my friends ask why? Or they don’t see the immediate gratification or justification for doing something when the opportunity presents itself. This may be for several reasons and I’m not knocking them. They make it do what it do and it works their way. I’m just saying “It aint me”

My whole thing is why NOT? I don’t have any kids and I don’t have a boyfriend. I’m trying to LIVE before life becomes bottles, homework, and couples dinners like “I Love My Wife.” I already do Dinner and TV so I’m well on the way of being domesticated, but

being free is my motivation to do AS MUCH AS I CAN sans attachments.

But I’m also not as afraid of commitment once the trigger’s been pulled. And my friends know because they heard me cry in the roughest moments of making the move here. They’ve seen me flip out, panic, and bawl when my car got towed.

I damn sure wasn’t gonna sell my car like the lady at the NYC Finance Office suggested. I know for DAYUM sure I wasn’t moving back to NYC to live with

::GASP::

::EGADS::

My MOTHER & ‘EM.

That comment has so much gravity it’s already halfway to the center of the earth lol…

I don’t have any quit in me. That’s why I got fired from the school I was working at (well that’s not WHY but once I have more readers who DON’T know what went down I’ll elaborate in this forum…maybe lol)

Sometimes for better or for worse you have to ::Starksy and Hutch moment:: “Do it…c’mon doo iitt”

Usually it ends up for the better, but life is all about the adventure. From living it (like being stopped ON FOOT by the Carrollton Police in TX) to recounting it (attending a show inside the Sydney Opera House), and best of all – remembering it all for me and for my kids.

I would love to say that I have no regrets…but some of the men that have come through the revolving door could have never came to store lol…but all-in-all it was for a time, it was an adventure and I love me some adventures.

Hell not everyone can say that they LIVE life. From the way I look at it, you can approach it in 2 ways.

Life can be a noun and you can just sit in the shit, letting routine, predictability, monotony and complacence run you.

Or

Life can be a verb where you actually DO, LIVE, SEE, ACT, and indulge in the things that make you different from the people you surround yourself around.

The choice is yours, but I’m gonna have to keep on doing…it’s the only way I know how to stay sane.

Hold the Treble I Need That BASS

Man::Bass as Anne::Shoes

Those that know me understand immediately what this analogy means. But I’ll give another one for those who aren’t as familiar with me but read this I’ll give you another one.

Man::Bass as Friday::Week

Man::Bass as Car System::Bass

I did great on the SATs in the verbal and reading section…maybe it was a precursor for what my english major would be, but what u learned about analogies helped me do well. You have to really think about the relationship between the two words from as many angles as you could think of.

Verb::Career; Function::Function; Part of Speech::Part of Speech I mean analogies are a great tool for critical thinking. Being able to analyze and figure out an analogy is analogous to solving a high difficulty Sudoku puzzle. So anyway, back to the original analogy.

I wake up on Monday DREAMING about the end of the week. I love my job and I STILL look forward to my time away from work. It boggles my mind that we only have 2 days to ourselves (if we’re lucky) to live our personal lives without interruption but I digress…

Friday is essential to the work week. Even if you don’t have a job, Friday signals the beginning of the 2-day (or 3-day if you live in NYC and have the energy) party time and life with those who fist-pump into the night with the best DJs. Friday is the sigh of relief for having made it another calendar week without going postal, getting some shit done (hopefully) and advancing towards some accomplishment.

For me shoes are E.SSEN.TIAL. Shoes make (or break) an outfit. In my wardrobe I have amassed a lot of things but shoes far outnumber any other piece because they’re just that crucial to life.

I was catching up on Sinbad Family Values and had to include one of the many fabulously true quotes from this guy.

Sinbad “Any woman would like to marry a man who can fix things but with this generation. Nah. It aint gonna happen.”

Very true. But of all the things I willingly accept and know won’t happen, like having a Mr. Fix It who can handle my car, change my oil, and save me tons of $$$ - bass is DEFINITELY not something I can live without.

Bass in a man’s voice is essential to me falling for the shit I know can’t be true. Bass helps to formulate the feeling of “Mmmmph I can’t wait to talk to this dude.” Bass is just crucial and I think synonymous with a dude saying they’re a man.

When I think Brawny, Old Spice, Axe – I think man and of course BASS…I can’t tell you how many Ivy educated dudes I’ve dealt with that have the most nasal, corny-tone sounding voice. I. Can’t.

There is a scale of octave range within the bass voice levels that is acceptable for me. Like I don’t need Barry White in my ear (although I will say I would be like his fans back in the day droppin them draws!). I know my voice isn’t high pitched. The raspy tone I got cannot be trumped by your lame ass. Won’t have it.

I just need to feel that if you clear your throat I want to listen. I want to like to hear you – not be annoyed at the prospect of listening to the “nerd speak” coming from your nose. I just had to post this for all my ladies who will not and cannot live without that bass, because trust and believe that IS on my checklist.

Introducing Project Pepper Anne

Remember that Disney cartoon Pepper Ann?? As an avid cartoon lover the theme song was one of my favorite parts but here's my little spin on that chorus:

"Pepper Ann, Pepper Ann marching on this debt parade/
Pepper Ann she's like one in a million!/
Pepper Ann Pepper Ann getting credits if she can-/
No one goes harder than Pepper Ann!"

This post is all about my alter ego who I've officially called Project Pepper Anne (b/c sometimes you gotta get hood) and how to fight for what’s rightfully yours by throwing some pepper into an otherwise stale situation…

Now it is common knowledge that I do not make a lot of money. But it boggles my mind when creditors, banks, and businesses believe that messing with my money is for some reason – acceptable. Now it is also common knowledge to those that are close to me that I don’t play that shit.

So I’ve devised a brief guide to get more ppl in on how to get what’s rightfully (or just what they want to be) theirs back.

If getting credits, fees, and cash refunded was an Olympic sport I would be at minimum a 4-time gold medalist, with a few silver and bronze medals to boot. But I can say this with no problem because the companies and banks of America have forced me to hone my HAM skills.

I have spent an exorbitant amount of daytime minutes (luckily they’ve been unlimited for a while), an extensive vocabulary, and exercised the most fine-tuned of diligence, persistence, and patience-with-a-limit. But before I tell you about the thorough alter ego I’ve affectionately named Project Pepper Anne (PPA) it wouldn’t be me if I didn’t provide some context.

The name ‘Anne’ is so plain, so calm and unassuming that I guess when people see it on paper they mistake me for a French blanco lady. I take no offense to this since I know my name is completely the opposite of my colorful personality. But this thought is probably an overestimation on my part because really everyone is reduced to two numbers in this world (especially to someone who answers the phone when you happen to call):

Your Social Security Number

And

Your Credit Score

So I guess from the onset these people don’t know who they’re really dealing with – nor do I in the beginning. Chances are though that the person who answers the call isn’t the person you need. I don’t come out the gate with PPA though. Because sometimes you’re not talking to the right person but they’ll happily get you to vent your frustration to the next highest pay grade.

At this critical point though is the 1^st step to winning your first customer service battle:

NEVER waste time and insults with the UNDERLING. They don’t even need the whole story – trust me you’ll have ample time to explain your issue to the person that counts, don’t waste your breath here.

(Actually this is Step 1 ½ ). Step 1 is: KNOW your issue as if it was a child you birthed AND have the right number. This is crucial because we all work and don’t want to be on the phone more than we really have to but holding is inevitable.

I like to Google corporate office numbers just to be sure when it comes to banks. For utility companies getting that number isn’t critical since you can still get to someone who has credit-yielding power. FYI PPA has not come out yet…but I utter these words:

“I NEED a manager. “ At this point PPA is making her way out, there’s some urgency in my tone, some levity to the next few words that follow the rebuttal you ALWAYS get:

“And what is this regarding? I am sure I can help” or some lame variation of “Let me try”

Now this is where you have to weigh the options you have – which is why KNOWING your issue is KEY.

If you are speaking with someone IN AMERICA they 1^st responder can’t help you – but they can understand what you need to happen and the weight behind it. Your gas/electric/car insurance company falls into this categories.

When National Grid (Brooklyn’s only gas provider) didn’t show up to turn my gas on after a few days because they had the wrong apt number I was too through. So knowing I was dealing with incompetence out the gate, I politely said when I got the rebuttal:

“I need to speak to a manager about the lack of competence at National Grid … because I still have no gas and there’s no reason for this.”

See I let the gravity sink in first so that the 1^st responder doesn’t even want to deal with me. And because I know my vocabulary is well beyond that of someone who in no means has my kind of education (I mean they got the apt number wrong and I had to suffer so elitism is on full throttle here) I had to lay it down layman’s terms. And my tone is thoroughly annoyed – Step 2.

Step 3: You MUST be passionate enough about being maligned, wronged, robbed, annoyed, just fed up or check all with whatever is prompting this demand. If you ‘re not upset or annoyed they’ll sense it and they’ll get over with “apologies” and things that DON’T equal monetary compensation. Sorry is nice but when I’m inconvenienced it WILL cost YOU. Especially when it’s YOUR fault.

Now if you are dealing with customer service off shores in India. Don’t mince your words at all. I mean these are people that call you and answer you talking about “A-ll-oo my name is Ree-bek-ah, how can I hulp you?”

C’mon son. Your name is NOT Ree-bek-ah! It’s probably Suresha or Vishnaya or whatever. Just keep it 100. I don’t even fake the nice. My response “Um yeah, I need a manager.” When they ask why “it’s about my account.” DONE . No need for intricacies or anything. Just verify the last 4 of your social and MOVE ON.

These scenarios are interchangeable since now-a-days no one wants to do their job but just giving you both. Use your best judgment. If it fails call back and start over (you’ll have ammo anyway..keep reading)

Now when you are finally speaking to the person who can get you want you want. You speak from your source of angst. NOT ignorantly but like an educated person who knows them BETTER than they know them. (Step 4 – actually one of the rules in the art of war: know your enemy). This knowledge can come in a few different ways.

· They messed up before with your money.

· They pissed you off before making the same mistake.

· It took way too long to get this taken care of (too many transfers, too long a wait)

· The company is full of idiots

· Loyalty and a good history

Check all, but you have to use a combo. Just pretend you’re making a meal out of McDonald’s Dollar Menu (or any other value menu that still exists). Pick and choose as long as you’re satisfied.

Now you will face resistance. This is where patience-with-a-limit comes in. You have to give it 3 tries somewhat calmly. PPA is already ready because I’m so annoyed my tone shows it. But Step 5 = FORTITUDE with an ATTITUDE.

Step 6: Regurgitate this is crucial because the ppl that work for these companies don’t know what they’re protecting. Half of the time it makes no sense to THEM. They get paid no more or less based on helping you out, just don’t forget to sprinkle some “this isn’t personal it’s just the principal” comments if they aren’t complete buffoons. (For those use a few "fucks" and "shit" sparingly)

If the person is not aware of the egregious error they’ve made you ask to speak to their manager. Most next high underlings will transfer you. If this person IS the “manager” then you start to go HAM PPA style. Here are some of the greatest lines I can remember telling people over the phone (and I’m not lying about these because I have no reason to – trust they paid me though).

*Also note how some of the steps have come to play.

“Let me tell YOU something, I bailed YOU out with MY TAX MONEY. These asinine policies are ridiculous! If I had $10,000 in the bank you wouldn’t think to do this to me…”

--I hung up that phone call unresolved but when I looked in my account 30 mins later I had that overdraft refunded (I had already had 2 courtesy refunds ;-)

“You have these people in India with access to MY SOCIAL SECURITY and then when they ask me some fraud questions that I ANSWER correctly MY account gets locked?! I couldn’t even UNDERSTAND what the guy was saying! This is why identity theft is so rampant…where do you get these damn questions from and why do they have that on a DIFFERENT CONTINENT?! I mean dealing with the language barrier AND these dumb questions, I’m not waiting 30 days to TRY AGAIN. So I’ll wait while you generate a new set of questions”

--They gave me another fraud test “even though we don’t normally do this” and my account was restored the next day…had to call corporate a few times to get her on the phone but it got taken care of.

“You guys fail to understand that when YOUR errors inconvenience me and demand time away from my day, my place of business, and my bank account YOU have to pay. Today. It took you no time to make that mistake. This is America, YOU pay for those, not me.”

“It is a RE-CE-SSION. I could do YOUR job in my sleep. There are countless people who would love to take your spot since getting simple information correct seems to be such a complex process.”

Now I’ve gone in on a few people and I like to throw in that it’s not personal because I don’t know them. But I do know my money, my time, and my work ethic and these people are not messing with those things. It takes me approximately 6.5 hours to make $25 (I kid you not VISTAs live at the poverty line).

I’ve become a pro at this but I’d like to think God is preparing me for the people who think that once I become wealthy they can steal my identity, or run off with my royalties, or whatever successes coming my way.

I just can’t afford to be a lay down bitch for NOBODY. More importantly – you ALWAYS have to stay UP on what’s yours because someone is ALWAYS trying to get OVER.

Hopefully you’ve all learned how to throw some pepper into these stale ass situations…Because everyone knows money is too hard to come by to just have to throw it away to these lames who have billions of it. These stale situations have stopped presenting themselves for me lately but I guess the universe knows - unless you want to dance with Project Pepper Anne I suggest you find the next lay down. Not me. Not today.

“…No one goes harder than Pepper Anne!”

BK is in Texas

I wrote this back in August 2010. 2 months after I first moved to Dallas. Now, as I come up on my 1 year anniversary of moving to Dallas (June 2^nd), I’ve tucked away the GPS (and consequently stopped wasting buckets of gasoline going the longest way possible), have settled in after a few moves, and have gotten accustomed to my home (for now…). I just wanted to share this with my readers, many of whom have relocated to a place that as we all learn upon leaving the city, so drastically different from NY. Enjoy!

It is 2:53am Central Standard Time (3:53am in BK) and I couldn’t sleep so I decided to chronicle the tales of this young dame from ye county of Kings who packed up, with her reliable chariot Candy and moved to Dallas, TX. I don’t know why I thought insomnia would elude me in the south, especially whilst crashing at a friend’s house but here ye chronicles begin…

I guess considering I’ve come to terms with my decision to stay in Dallas after the throws of extreme brokenness almost made me haul ass, I’ll start by laying the smacketh down on the rundown that Texan and New Yorkers keep asking me. ..”Why Texas?” I grew up in BK, Flatbush (Bullet. Bullet. Bull horn and insert all other bashment sound effects here) to be exact and while I will ALWAYS refer to my town as the best place on Earth I had to boogie. I was about to finish grad school in May and after making unemployment work for me since 2009 with a nicely Haitian-decorated apartment with all the trappings - I mean I felt like Empire State of Mind a little bit “if you could make it here you could make it anywhere”…then reality set in as graduation loomed off in the distance 5 months away…(Type A MOST certainly fits me like a glove)

Graduation with a Master’s in tow, in a job sector that doesn’t pay, unemployment drying out, and worst of all things having to store ALL my shit I mean bags, clothes, shoes, dvds, furniture, house décor ALLLLLA that (don’t forget to check the sanity, privacy, and freedom at the storage facility too) and MOVE BACK HOME. “EGADS WOMAN!” I thought to myself way back in December 2009/January 2010 as the thought ruminated over and over in my head. Hell. 2. Tha. Na….Now I’m not saying everyone is in that situation, but having been out of the house since I graduated in 2007 it was just something I knew I had to do…Plus let’s not play around with serious facts.

New York City has about 90% of its residents in a vice grip of hypnotism. The convenience. The party life EVERY. NIGHT. OF. THE. WEEK. The pace. The diversity in NYC NO ONE, I repeat NO ONE is a minority. Did I mention the convenience? --Insert strong arm here.

And while I love NYC for those reasons, the MTA is legitimately trippin –less trains & buses + more mone = no bueno; When you have a car (that never really left Flatbush considering how long I had it) EVERYTHING is convenient.

Imagine if you will life without the following

::obnoxious hood-booger blasting some 1990s unheardofgangstarap music/or some old ass song that was hot years ago from a small telephone’s speakerphone::

::the loudest conversation about Taquita and her baby daddy and ‘em and how someone owed someone money, the kids need mad shit but “that nigga swear I won’t roll up on his shit..” conversation you could very well do without::

::coughing/sneezing/stinking ALLS up in your area and invasion of your personal space::

::people pushing past you because they have to be somewhere that doesn’t matter, and ironically still get the “DING. DING” as the train doors close in there face::

Actually pause right there---that scenario is actually hilarious as hell (until you’re the one on the side of the door watching your perfectly time arrival roll away) and now we’re in play mode again …

::sadiddy bitch at the front of a club who you know has nowhere near an IQ as high as yours because her job is to hold the clipboard and act important controlling your fate and enjoyment for the evening::

From what I could tell and 1 ½ years of looking – I wasn’t going to find a job in NYC and if I did I wouldn’t have been happy doing it. Especially at the rate of pay they’re offering us young folk. So after consistently reading those “Top 10 Cities for Young People,” “Top 10 Cities That Are Growing” etc. Dallas kept coming up. Reading is fundamental kids!

But I also know that coming from NYC I had to be honest with where I could go and make a new life for myself without trying to A) off myself B) drive back to BK feeling defeated (although I was almost there a couple of times…another story, another day maybe) and C) I could find me some Black mens….yeah I said it. I moved for the prospects of the mens…As a single young whippersnapper I had to come where the potential could be met without DTM (doing too much – blog pending).

So I applied to do this teaching alternative certification program and was accepted. 1 TFA denial, 1 Teach New Orleans denial, some cash drop, a 30 hour drive, fast forward almost 2-months and extreme brokeness and here I am. More importantly here’s what I’ve learned about the Big D (as they call it).

Everything is s p r e a d l i k e m u s t a r d. I mean average driving time to any one place is about 20-25 minutes but it could really be more depending on where in Dallas you are, where you’re coming from and all that. There is also about 3-4+ ways to get to one location but since I’m still wasting gas listening to that old GPS talking about “Make a U turn if possible” it’s still a learning curve.

Texas is conservative. Example: sitting in IHOP with my Sorors and using that Sailor’s Language which ebbs and flows… I dropped some hot f-bombs, and the like the po-po rolled up on me and said “Mam, ::raises eyebrows at the thought that such a little PYT such as myself was bringing the rain like desert storm apparently:: I’m gonna need you to stop cussin’ cuz if somebody tells me something I can arrest youu…” I stopped listening after the po-po told me to “stop cussin’”

Example 2: There are dry counties here. I mean the liquor store closes at 9. Dry county. I seen a black dude fully suited flying out of his car, with his jacket flying like Batman’s cape – to buy some wine at 8:55. Dry county. Trucks zooming in the parking lot to get liqs & wasted - dry county. Walmart stops selling wine at 12am dry county….yeah…what’s a lush to do but stock up with $3 wines from Walmart?

Speaking of, Walmart is King! ::Young Jeezy Voice:: “And I love it!” Wine, make-up, food, undies, toothpaste, pads…I mean it’s HEAVEN. I’m convinced that any European that has the privilege of going to a 24-hour Super Walmart will go in with wide-eyed amazement at the plethora of assortment available. Anyhow I digress…

Texas is the land of the truck. So my chariot is very happy here! I mean people have monster trucks from those commercials! On these streets though, they drive WORSE than NYC and are CRAZY tailgaters too

But I’ve come to like it here for many reasons including:

1. Dallas and the surrounding areas are probably just about the only places I’ve been to where you can be shopping at the mall and in 30 minutes passing by some cows and horsing grazing on some bright green grass…Like whaaatt?

2. Although I’m too broke to capitalize on it now, man oh man the shopping is so that any recovering shopaholic (like myself) will just have to avoid even going to these places. There are 2.2 stores for every ONE person (so I’ve heard and living here I believe it) so you can imagine.

3. Happy hour is different in that it’s not the club scene (a-la NYC happy hours on a Wednesday night) but damn so is that BILL! You can get White Boy Gucci Wasted out here for $15. $1 Margaritas, $2 wells, free food (tacos & quesadillas). You just can’t go wrong.

4. Texas is one of the few states where one only pays FEDERAL tax…i.e. taking home MY MONEY ::Kanye runs with the reel voice on Punk’d:: THIS MINE :-D and did I mention how cheap it is to just live here?

5. The people are just friendlier and have a better disposition. You’ll be (kind of) hard pressed to find a screw face at any store or establishment.

6. Last but certainly not least, there are TONS of things to do…I think the misconception is that I moved to some little place. It’s pretty poppin I mean I went to happy hour with a smorgasbord buffet better than endless shrimp @ Red Lobster club with $2 drinks…I’m definitely not mad!

All in all, I’m sticking it out here and happy doing it since stress is hard to come by when your apartment complex has a sparkling pool and you ride to your own tunes. As life goes, things happen but I got Ryders who hold me down and this experience reminds me of that Death March way back in Spring 2006. Marching into Wynn Commons with my face painted up, arms burning but giving it my all – with a gang of my sisters behind me and my loved ones in front cheering me on. Life was beautiful once that hood came off and it’s about to come off again, reaallll soon.

End Proclamation:

BK all day…but now BK is in Texas

Addendum list of what else I’ve learned about TX:

1. Everyone always has to “plan” to chill…..only a select few people I know here can just hang on the fly…definitely one thing I miss

2. Nobody carpools….I mean everyone lives in different places so it does get hairy when you do, but sometimes I actually don’t want to drive

3. People here don’t speak NYC car language i.e. they don’t honk their horns, blast their music real loud, or drive with the windows down

*I refuse to abandon my driver’s roots and break ALL these rules…these Texans have been introduced to Konpa, Dancehall, and ANYTHING I feel like bumping when I drive B-)

4. People here like to floss…Beamer, Benz or Bentley but live in apartment complexes, I mean it’s an oil state but chances are the ones with money are the ones you don’t see

5. There are cowboys here and they are gentlemen…but my quest for the mens only yielded losers, lames, and guys who would stare but not speak

Eternally Single Part Deux

So I do this often and those that are close to me hate when I start my story in the middle....in my mind the connections always make sense but not vocalizing any of it until the part I feel is most important is where I fail in the conversational communications department.

I realized that I created an entire post on being single for 6 years now without giving any real preceding background as to how I ended up this way. So Family Feud Time (love that show & can murder the best of them on Wii)

If you've been single for a long time, what is the #1 most annoying question from a man?

……

C’mon guess

….Alright you can probably see it right underneath this line so I’ll tell you:

"Why are you single?"

I hate the idea that ppl think asking that shit is okay. It's almost like the answer should be some slick shit, like "I'm a crazy bitch who holds all men by the balls so they don't wanna be with me" because that would be the reason I would believe a bitch should be single, but alas, that is not I.

I got asked the question so much so that one day I decided on one of my many solo days of introspection to think about what a valid answer could be....so I reached in the recesses of my mind to think back to the last nigga I was “in like” with. And my being in like has multiple stages and variations. Having been alone for a minute it can range from

A school girl crush: the phone rings, you get a message tone and ::smile:: it's him...Yeah that molasses.sticky.sweet….shit.

A rational//irrational attachment to the qualities and similarities you make yourself believe to make this person likeable.

From my own personal Like Files this has run the gamut from –

“I like that he takes charge and is assertive like a man should be” to

“He’s from the East Coast and lives down here too”

to one of the most basic yet overused reasons

*“We had great conversation”

*(which I’ve learned as much as I talk - could happen with a brick wall)

So I thought back to the last crush I actually had and what I thought I had to do to get it to advance from the stages it was in.

So I did what every school girl does when she has a crush. I told my girlfriends I was really digging this dude and asked for help on how to keep him around. See in my history of male-relations I've become Shonuff at attracting the Houdini niggas. Everyone has encountered Houdini(s).

Houdini: a nigga (and for my Lesies a female DOES qualify) that has been communicating with you on a consistent basis using MORE THAN ONE form of communication over a span of time ranging from 3 weeks-2 months (under 3 weeks is charged to the game). You’re all in it, and while expecting hasn’t been something you’ve done the sheer aspect of routine from this bitchass has taken root in your mind. Everything is flowing and then……

Wait for it…..

**POOF**

Suddenly and without major, just cause this nigga disappears.

Off. The. Radar.

Somehow along the way I just ran the ring with Houdinis ::Who’s the mastuh??:: I had at one point a new Houdini when one fell off the map ::Shonuff!!:: It was a decent run and at the ironic thing about it was that it was winter. Now I don't know about TX but winter in NYC is the hardest time to even shack up with a quickie because men are using up all their CB time until the bitches with poom-poom shorts and fat booties come back out in the summer...

Anyhow because I knew my statistics with dudes, I asked my friends for advice so that I wasn't using my own counsel to proceed to fuck it up, as any honest woman can admit.

Now I don't know when the number was settled but 3 months was what we all agreed upon to be how long you have to hold out to get a crush to commit. Only problem was this dude lived in Maryland and I was in BK. I also already had my exit plan to TX by then so it seemed perfect that the universe made it this way right? I mean I was never one to be too sad because in my mind I just knew I was gonna get some regardless but I still tried to claim I wasn't...even when he said he was coming for one day....

Now I think I have to say that I am principled. Even when it comes to sex...that's why being single this long also becomes mind-boggling after a while. This nigga got on a bus and arrived in NYC at about 10pm only to turn around and go back at like 2 pm the next day. Now if I was a dude I would have made sure I got some if I was buying a ticket and doing all that sitting on a bus. So I felt it only right to let him have some. Shiiitttt I wasn't fronting so I gave it up.

Fast forward to my trip to DC, where I managed to get a quickie in a kitchen from said dude and then...Houdini happened. At this point in the game I've recognized the warning signs of Houdinism-in-the-making because they just stop responding...**POOF**

He disappeared...Like most of them do, and the key is without just cause.

Then I came to TX a short while thereafter. At this point I was just intrigued by this number of 3 months that we had decided would work to changing a nigga's mind and get him to up the ante. So I met OKC (he was from Oklahoma City so it seems a fitting name) on July 29th. I only remember because it was this triflin bitch's birthday [another one of my many TX adventures I can relay in some other post] and we went out.

It went how new nigga business always goes...we spoke on the phone damn near every day, and texted in between. I went to NYC and we still were in communication. The funny thing about Houdini's is that distance aint shit...they make it seem like they're in the lane when they probably have already planned the disappearing act the likes of..well…Houdini.

So it was September and we met up...now I knew the number was 3 but I'm not like most and so I pushed it down to 2. Having had all that communication (which honestly started to fall off a little bit anyhow) I – being the principled young lady that I am......did it.

Truth be told, I loathe wasting time probably as equally as I hate starting over. Seriously. 2 months can amount to a whole lot of shit talking about what "can" happen in the bedroom and shiiiitttt my minutes aren't for free so let's see if you could back it up..........

It.

Was………..

Bad.....that waiting (nd the act itself) just left much to be desired. And because he was my only spade in a hand full of clubs, hearts, and diamonds (and really I don't usually rate guys on their first try since it's unknown territory, bodies need acquainting, etc) I did the baseball adage of 3 strikes. The worst part though was that he tried to pull the Houdini on me full throttle. He was out. He was way fuckin out. When he tried to start up communication sporadically I made sure I told his ass his performance was not to my standards. Since I wasn’t guaranteed another opportunity I had to be forthright (again I’m principled).

I got a rare glimpse of this Houdini preparing for his act so... needless to say, I dismissed him (although I'm sure he'll tell his friends otherwise) in Houdini-had-to-be-gone fashion. I don't take kindly to bad bedroom performances (BBPs). My friend actually saw the texts, it was cold, but again I’m not into wasting time.

Then in my update of my favorite blog The Fooler Iniative, she confirmed what me and my girls have long known:

"What I’m not about, is some arbitrary timeline, we adhere ourselves to, with the ultimate goal of achieving some fictitious relationship ideal."

In the movie Inception they say that an idea is the most powerful thing. There is NO way of making anything come out of an idea that isn't there. Truer words were never spoken. Bitches get all types of ideas from niggas that they just run with and vice versa...but one thing I've found is that

NO man is going to WANT to be YOURS if HE DOESN'T WANT TO ::Shonuff!!::

Holding out wont plant the idea in his head...he'll just fuck the next bitch or his slide that he had and YOU too are not getting ANY (unless you have the glorious line up which has eluded me for quite some years).

Sex has destroyed the best ideas...just look what happened to Charlotte when she got engaged to her doctor man and found out the hard way that it wasn't working....I do not like surprises. And aint enough liking in the world that's gonna make me forgive BBP. Besides, truth is it's hard enough finding someone who can vibe with you on multiple levels. Some ppl are just a great adventure in bed....can't hold a conversation worth a damn, don't do shit with their time but you're convinced they come up with ways to make the next-time-you-have-a-meeting daydream @ work fantasy material...

It is what it is. I've come to accept that in my singledom.

To quote Fooler again: "Our thinking that there is a determined model of how things are supposed to be is not a product of empirical fact as much as it is a general rationalization of something we’ve grown accustomed to seeing."

You know someone who got wifed....not really wifey material but she did it. HOW?!! Everyone wants to know and she says among other things that she didn't put out right away. So now we all think holding out does the trick...see how that works? Never mind the fact that NO ONE asked shorty what her standards are for sex...she might be a dead fish and you listenin to her about having a man who 1. could be gay 2. can't fuck 3. is dumb as rocks or 4. all of the above smh.....getting caught out there...

So with Houdini's (hopefully out the loop) and non-self deprivation of the D in effect, the next time I get asked the most irritating question by some guy who undoubtedly wants to smash "Why are you single?" I will say what I've started saying:

"...Because I haven't met a guy with his lights on, that would consider me as his girlfriend" Knowing that if all else fails, I'm principled and that's a fall back that at least gets me through a month or so ;-)