Wednesday, August 27, 2008

Just the Little Games That We Play

I’m reading a book called, “How to Love a Black Man.” It’s written by a black man so I figured it must be good because who would know better how to love a black man than a black man.

So I’m all excited about the book. I’ve diagnosed what type of love substitute I most exhibit and have delved into how to combat it. I come to a chapter in the book titled, “Avoid All Game-Playing and Hidden Agendas.” It’s all about how sexual games, money games and power games are all bad and how you should just be upfront with your man. Ok. I can respect that.

Not even two chapters later the author tells me “Never Be Too Easy to Get.” What? Didn’t you just tell me not to play games? Now I’m confused. According to the latter chapter I should, “Gladly pick up the phone—but not on the first ring,” “Say yes to invitations—but not all of them,” “Speak freely—but don’t share every thought in your head.”

I get that he’s trying to help me not present myself to a man as desperate, but I still don’t understand how those actions do not constitute the power games he was just advising me not to play? Isn’t it all just a ploy to get the man to want me more because people always want what they can’t have? Wouldn’t that indeed make it a power game?

I’ve never been good at these kinds of things. If a guy I’m interested in calls and wants to go out with me why would I not accept his invitation? I mean I’m not going to go around canceling plans just to go out with some guy, but if I had nothing planned but sitting at home on my couch to watch DVDs am I really supposed to turn down his invite, knowing I really want to go, just to prove some point? Why does this make sense? The only thing this does is have me sitting on my couch eating Turkey Hill Party Cake Ice Cream hoping that whoever he called next that had the good sense to accept his invitation doesn’t ruin my chance at being with this man.

Male readers: step out from the shadows and comment on this blog because I’m genuinely confused. Don’t make me have to call my local Congressman to institute a draft for this!

Monday, August 25, 2008

The Date That Went Well

I finally have something positive to blog about concerning a man. So I figured I better write this blog while I still have something good to say about him. LOL.

I had a really nice date on Friday. Gasp.

One of my eHarmony/Myspace searches came up fruitful. I messaged him told him why I was contacting him via Myspace rather than eHarmony. It helped that he had initiated contact on eHarmony, so I knew he was at least somewhat interested in me. He took my outreach (which some of you may think of as stalking) in stride, said he thought I was cute and was interested in getting to know me. Yay!

A little about this guy: he’s 27, a Mason (so we’ll call him The Mason), and went to a technical school in upstate N.Y. and works in IT. No kids, non-smoker, social drinker.

So we chit chat, message each other and are seemingly getting along well. This goes on for about a week. So one day I send him a message with the subject line “Congratulations The Mason, you are the winner of a brand new...” and the message said, “message from me. LOL. How are you doing?”

He wrote back, “Man, and I was hoping for a brand new...big wet kiss.”

I write back, “Hmmm, how will you ever win that if you don't ever ask me out?”

That's right I went for it. I mean if eHarmony thinks we're a match and we're having good myspace conversations then why aren't we getting this show on the road?

He says he does really want to see me but that his schedule is pretty much devoid of free time at the moment. He asks what my schedule is like and after a little back and forth we agree to meet up on Friday to go bowling. He said he had some meeting that he had to go to so 10 o’clock is the earliest we can meet up. I agree because I’m really interested in meeting this guy.

However our agreed upon time leaves me with a big gap of time to fill since I decide I’m not going to trek all the way home and have to fight to make it back out to D.C. So I head to Pentagon City to Zales to get a necklace I got for Christmas fixed. I walked all around Pentagon City, ended up at the Marshalls and Borders across the street from the mall, but time is being cruel. It seems like the clock is ticking backwards. So I ended up taking Super Dave’s suggestion to go see The Dark Knight. It was outstanding! I was never so glad to be in a two and a half hour movie.

Sidebar: I know I’m hella late and this may sound crazy, but those of you who regularly read this blog should come to expect this kind of thing from me. I think it’s a good thing that Heath Ledger died after his role as the Joker. He was way too convincing. Like I had a hard time remembering that there was a real man under all that makeup. I have no idea how he was going to acclimate himself back to the real world. So RIP Heath. You were amazing.

But back to my original story. It’s quarter to 10 and The Mason texts me that he’s on the way. Yay. About 20 minutes later he says he’s looking for parking and by quarter to 11, we’re face to face.

We get to Lucky Strike and they tell us the wait for lanes is an hour and a half. No dice. He asks me if I’ve eaten. I tell him how I’ve done everything in the world waiting for this date to start but eat, so we end up going to Friday’s. We had good chemistry. No real awkward silences and we kept each other laughing with various commentary on randomness and dating stories. Y’all know I have plenty.

We finish up our meal and then head to another bowling alley. It’s closed. At this point it’s a little after midnight so our options for continuing the night are pretty limited. I suggest going to a lounge or something and he says ok, but we can’t decide which one is good on Friday nights or if it’s worth going so late. So we’re driving by the National Mall and I suggest walking around the Washington Monument and scaring white people. He says he’s all about it. Insert awwwww here.

So we park and start walking up and a white guy and girl are passing us by on bike. I say boo in their direction in a kinda low voice, but dude doesn’t back me up. So I nudge him and he’s like what. I’m like you didn’t back me up. I thought we were here to scare white people. He’s like aww my bad, you caught me off guard. We walk over to the benches surrounding the monument, sit and talk and instead of scaring white people we make up stories about them.

It’s a really fun game. I’m going to start watching C-Span with the TV on mute (sans closed caption) and make up what my local Congressman is saying. It’ll probably be better than what he’s actually saying.

Anyway at the Monument, there was this one lady had this huge camera and was taking pics of the bottom bricks, so we dubbed her an archaeologist and said that she was going to take the evidence back to her lab and announce some discovery at a press conference next week. LOL.

We stayed there for a while, but then he had to use the bathroom, so we left and he took me home. On the way he kept looking at me and said with some what of an amazed voice “Your face is so clear.” I was like thank you I work hard on that.

Anyway we get to my house and I let him use the bathroom. We stood at my door for a minute and he had that same look on his face as he did in the car, so I ask him what he's thinking. So he says I'm thinking about how I have really attractive lips and how you're not supposed to kiss on the first date. I say to him, “Who said that.” Then he leans in and kisses me and it was really nice. He left and I hopped in bed.

A few minutes later I get a text from him saying, “It was tough leaving.” I let that go unanswered. The next day I woke up and saw he had sent another text like 30 minutes later, saying he was curious to know if he could have stayed. I responded later in the day saying I don’t think that would have been a good idea. He asked why and I said I’ve been down that road and I don't like where it leads. He said he didn't want sex, but he was just enjoying my company and didn't want to leave...hmmm...I don’t doubt that he really enjoyed my company, but I didn't trust myself to not let things go down so he had to go. We’ve texted since then and are trying to figure out when to go out next. Yay!

Wednesday, August 20, 2008


I think this man tried to kidnap me.

We were exchanging messages on Myspace. He said he was off work today and wanted to "bring me lunch." Really? Bring me lunch? That should have been my first clue that he was crazy. I'm not trusting no man to bring me anything to eat that I didn't see where it came from.

We exchanged numbers and I suggested we meet at 12:30, but he signed off before I really confirmed that he was actually coming. So I went to lunch with Super Dave. Y'all know since Iraq I have issues with believing people are actually going to show up. But as luck would have it as I'm sitting and eating and chatting I get a 12:45.

"I'm here" it says. Shit! This bamma really showed up. I tell Super Dave sorry for having to eat and run, but it would be rude to not show up. So I text him tell him I was running late but was on my way.

I call him. He greets me with a French accent. Damn, should have figured that from his name. I'm not a fan of the ESOLs (English to Speakers of Other Languages).

I should have stayed at the Billy Goat Tavern.

Still I tell Frenchie where I am and he says he drove, but couldn't find a parking space. Finally (after much deciphering of his accent...see why I don't mess with the ESOLs.) I figure out that he's near the taxi stand outside of Union Station. He pulls up to me and I'm like well what are you going to do with your car. He's like I don't know and then is like get in.

*Eff what Rhianna said. Please stop the music. Hold up wait a minute. Don't stop. Get it get it* Did this bamma just ask me to get in his car? I must be tripping because I know this bamma did not just ask me to get in his car.

He looks at me for the answer, and I look back at him like he's crazy and tell him I'm not getting in his car. He's like he understands but can't find parking so he leaves.

I walk away stunned that he really thought I was just gonna hop in his car. I'm not trying to end up like the victim of some America's Most Wanted episode. You should be able to do background checks on Myspace. I need to call my local Congressman about that.

Monday, August 18, 2008

Pay to Play

I did some cyber stalking this weekend. Yea I know I talked about chick who cyber stalked Friendship and Fun through me, sue me. I never said I was above cyber stalking. I just don't go as far as contacting women I suspect are involved with a man I'm dealing with. I go directly to the source.

Anyway. My cyber stalking this weekend wasn't about trying to find out what someone was up to, but just to find someone. I quasi signed up for eHarmony (read: I made a profile, uploaded a photo, but couldn't bring myself to fork over the cash for the service). Well anyway I guess in hopes of getting me to part with my money they send me my matches. I can read all about them, but can't see their photos or communicate with them.

So I pulled out my cyber stalking/reporting tools. Myspace to the rescue! I tracked down this one guy looking up his first name, age, and location listed on eHarmony on Myspace. Comparing the personal information from the site, I pinpointed the guy, looked at his pics and decided he was cute. I sent him a message on Myspace explaining that I figured out he was my match, but I don't pay for the service so I thought I'd contact him this way. Besides eHarmony says we're a match, and he started the communication process with me, so I thought it was worth the risk. Then I realized something, dude's last log in on Myspace was in March of 2007. The potential love of my life was not likely to get this message anytime soon, if ever. What was I to do?

A closer look at his Myspace page yielded me his last name and a Facebook search granted information! People leave themselves wide open to this kind of stuff. I debated sending him an email, but thought it would look crazy to get an email from someone that shouldn't have your contact information. I mean sending a Myspace note is one thing, but an email? I'd be freaked out to get an email from someone who's not supposed have my email address. I called one of my male advisors. He doesn't answer. I reach out to another. He confirms that it is indeed crazy to send an email. I settle for adding him as a buddy on yahoo messenger, completely forgetting that yahoo alerts you that someone is trying to save you as a friend. SHIT! Five minutes later I get an instant message.

eHarmonyguy: hello
me: hi
me: i'm CocaColaCutie* your match on eHarmony.
eHarmonyguy: oh hey
insert his delayed reaction to realizing that I shouldn't have been able to "contact" him
eHarmonyguy: how did you know my messenger name?
insert my feelings of shame and awkward silence
me: long story
eHarmonyguy: indulge me
me: i hope you take this as flattery...

So I recounted how I had searched him and found him. He says that he's flattered and we continue the conversation. So we're chit chatting about what we're up to for the day. I should mention that in the midst of our conversation I kept getting disconnected from yahoo messenger. So he's like, you're having issues over there I guess that means you'll just have to come over. Damn it not another one of those guys. So I say "by come over you mean meet in a neutral place right." He replies, "if you need to." Then he informs that he's not looking for anything serious.

Then why the Fuck are you on eHarmony? GRRRRRRR. Why would you pay for a service (and I know he paid because he could communicate with me I just couldn't communicate back) that promises to "deliver matches that have the foundation of compatibility necessary for a lifetime of joy," if you are not, as he said, "looking for anything serious?" Why not troll for hoes for free on Myspace like most guys "not looking for anything serious"? Why infect the atmosphere at eHarmony, creating false hope? Boo to that guy. I wish there was some way I could get my local Congressman to regulate that, but I suppose that's more of a moral issue.

I just said thank you for letting me know and closed the match. Now I really don't have the motivation to give eHarmony my money. Not if that's what I'm going to be exposed to. I can get that for free.

*names have been changed to protect those involved, so what if it's just me.

Wednesday, August 13, 2008

How: My Favorite Question

How do you stop wanting a man? Not a particular man, but one in general? Everyone keeps telling me it will come when I’m least expecting it. But that does me no good, because I’m constantly expecting it. So someone please tell me how to not expect it, because it’s driving me crazy. Every time I meet a new man I get uber excited and it crashes and burns. I make bad decisions. I’m too eager. I lose my cool. I need something else to wrap my thoughts around. It probably doesn’t help that I think I’m either shallow or picky. But I don’t really feel like I should have to settle for something I don’t want for the sake of having a man. I never want to look at my man and think maybe I could have done better for myself.

You’d think I would have stopped a long time ago, considering my Random Negro Stories, but no matter what I can’t stop wanting it. I think about it night and day. Thoughts of what it would be like to truly have someone love me and accept the love that I’m ready to give back. It’s consuming me. Help! No one so far has had the answer. Well maybe my local Congressman, but I haven’t talked to him yet. I’m having a hard time tracking him down since Congress is on recess.

I’ve tried doing other stuff to take my mind off it. Nope still there. It’s not even like I really have that much time on my hands. I have two jobs. I work six days a week. When I’m not working I’m either hanging out with friends or shopping. Sometimes both. I read, I write, and when I’m not being lazy I work out. I do my make up, make up cute outfits with accessories, only to wonder why cuz I don’t have any dates to wear them on. I watch DVDs while eating chicken and drinking wine. End up yelling at the TV about whatever no good man is in it or crying over why I can’t get one like the ones that got it right. I party, I dance, I drink only to end up hung over and sad that my bed is empty. I talk to my mom, my friends, my sisters, and hang up still feeling like I want a man. I guess it doesn’t matter where I am, or what I’m doing my mind always takes me there. So what am I to do? I get angry. I get frustrated. I get sad. I keep feeling like I’m never going to get my chance. But yet I’m still looking every chance I get. WTF is wrong with me?

Thursday, August 7, 2008

Random Negro Stories File: Cyber Stalking

Sometime last week I got a random friend request on Facebook. I had no idea where I could have known this chick from. The little blurb they show you on Facebook says she’s from ATL. So am I but I’m certain I don’t know this girl from my childhood. I’m thinking maybe I know her through this message board I belong to, but the name and face are not ringing a bell. So then I check to see who we know in common. The only person we both know (at least on Facebook) is my favorite random Negro: Friendship and Fun. Interesting.

So you know the wheels are turning in my head. I’m like out of all of his 1,500 some odd friends, how did this chick find me? And furthermore why is she interested in knowing who I am? But then I think back to the “I made it back safely ☺” message that I posted on his wall after I came back from Chicago. I guess to an outsider that could denote some sort of more than friendly relationship.

Now, I’m not gonna be all self-righteous and act like I haven’t done my share of cyber stalking, but I’ve never gone as far as to send a friend request to a chick to check out who dude may or not be dealing with. I do have some sense of shame. Anyway, after some consultation with a few of the members of my male roundtable, I send chick a note asking her who she is. She doesn’t respond.

So yesterday I’m talking to Friendship and Fun and I tell him, "Oh I think this girl is trying to cyber stalk you through me." He asked, "who?" I couldn’t remember chick’s name so I looked it up on Facebook and told him. He was like oh I know her through this Greek message board, but she’s from Atlanta so how would she know you? Good question. I mean I am from Atlanta (by way of Brooklyn, NY) but as I said I’m sure she’s not someone I know from elementary, middle or high school and I’m not Greek, so that eliminates that circle. Then he reveals that she likes him and has offered up the booty. So it’s all crystal clear.

I wonder how many of the other girls posting on his wall got friend requests? I should start a Facebook group and ask my local Congressman to try and get us in the witness protection program. But it’s kind of flattering to be on the other end of a cyber stalk mission. Ha! People wanna know who I am! And I’m cute…shooot! This is kinda cool. I feel like I’ve upped my hater count by at least one. But like Katt Williams says, I gotta get five more before the summer is out, LMAO!

Tuesday, August 5, 2008

Dream Analysis: Sneaker Thieves

This morning I woke up kicking. I kicked the shit out of the three or four purses laying on the edge of my bed. The thud woke me up from a dream that I was being jacked for some Polo sneakers. Cute ones too—white canvas with red trim around it. In the dream I was around middle school age, but the shoes being taken from me are ones I own now. Stop right there: No I haven’t had them since then.

From what I remember, I was at Payless trying on some sandals. I took one side of my sneakers off and walked away from it to go look at how they looked on my feet in one of those lil mirrors on the side of the bench where you sit down to try your shoes on. When I came back yall my shoe was gone. I’m like who the hell would steal one side of a shoe?

So I go looking around the store and come up on a girl who reminded me of those sneaky girls in middle school. You know the ones that look like they’re always up to something. I go up to her and ask if she knows what happened to my shoe and she’s like I don’t know what you’re talking about, with a smirk on her face. Ah hee hee hell. That bitch had my shoe. I just knew it. But I walk away. So then somehow both of my shoes are gone and I end up with these fugly Reeboks.

I walk around the store some more and see the same girl with my shoes, so I snatch them back from her. I put them on and take off running out the store. However, homegirl sent these two kids that were with her after me. One is a tall mannish looking girl and the other a tall skinny dude. So anyway they catch up to me, lift me up and try to snatch the shoes off my feet. So I started kicking and that’s when I woke up.

Sidebar: I actually went to middle school with my jackers in real life. The man-girl (who happened to have a thing for stealing) I recently saw on Facebook, but the dude, he was a total random reappearance.

That was some crazy dream and I really felt like it had to mean something more than me just losing some shoes that I didn’t even owned when I was in middle school.

So here’s what the good folks at think my dream meant.

To dream that you have been robbed, denotes that you are experiencing an identity crisis or you are suffering some sort of loss in your life.

These people might be dead on. Lately I’ve been wondering what the hell it is I want to do with my professional life. I mean I love to write and covering Congress is cool and all, but I think I really need to get started on the novel(s) I’ve been kicking around in my head for the past few years. As for the loss part, maybe it’s the loss of my potential relationship. Boo!

To dream that you are running away from someone, indicates an issue that you are trying to avoid. You are not taking or accepting responsibility for your actions. In particular, if you are running from an attacker or any danger, then it suggests that you are not facing and confronting your fears.

I don’t know what this could mean. Maybe it’s all going back to not yet getting started on those novels.

To dream that you are kicking someone, represents suppressed aggression that you are unable to express in your waking life.

Ok. Now I love the Dream Moods people. I’m still pissed about Iraq standing me up. That day I wanted to throw plates and glass and shit around just to hear them crash, but I thought to myself, who the hell is gonna clean all that shit up? So I didn’t. Coincidentally I took the Monday, after our date was supposed to happen, off and my friend suggested that we go on a rampage and just slap random people because that couldn’t get us into jail for very long. I almost called my local Congressman to see if he could draft up a quick resolution to make that ok, but I just ended up sleeping most of the day away.

To see or wear sneakers in your dream, suggests that you are approaching through life with ease and little obstacles. It also denotes comfort and satisfaction with yourself and who you are. Alternatively, the dream indicates that you lead an active life and is always on the go.

They were on a roll until now. I wouldn’t exactly say that my life is at ease. But I guess I do live an active life. I have two jobs. I hang out with my friends and I have been traveling a lot this summer. Ok. Dream Moods people. You get your kudos back.

Monday, August 4, 2008

Random Negro Stories File: Nick Namin’

So on Saturday I was strolling down by Metro Center, wasting time before heading into my part time job. I see these two guys walking towards me. One of them was kinda cute but I’ve been in such a funky mood about guys that I just didn’t feel like being bothered. As I walk past though the cute one stops me looks me up and down and is like “Can I give you a nick name for the day? Lemme give you a nick name for the day.” I oblige for whatever reason and he says, “Tell your man to call you Mahogany.”

This tickles me because my friend, who also is going through some relationship drama, and I just watched Diana Ross’s Mahogany the other day. We drank wine and ate chicken, biscuits and potato salad from Cluck-U, while yelling at Billy Dee Williams for leaving her when she needed him most. Sidebar: I’ve got to stop eating chicken when I’m sad, but it’s so good! Ole punk moved back to Chicago to run for office. Made me not even want to call my local Congressman for anything else this week.

So when I met up with my friend at Macy’s I told her the story and joked that I was going to go home after work, drink wine and pour hot candle wax all over myself. Those of you who have seen the movie will appreciate that. If you haven’t, check it out. It’s a really fantastical film.

In other news, this guy I know from a previous job, we’ll call him Pies, sends me a text message asking where’s his pie. I had promised him like two years ago that I was going to make him a Sweet Potato Pie because I was raving about it after Thanksgiving that year. So we’re texting back and forth and some how he’s made the switch to asking for a different piece of pie and I’m not talking baked goods here. Men. I stopped texting him back when he started trying to arrange times.

Pies has been trying to get me to sleep with him for the past couple years, but I’ve just danced around the issue because I know he just wants that. At one point we were talking about going out, but over the course of the conversation he made it clear that he wasn’t really looking for anything serious. So I decided to let it go because it would really piss me off to have to go through the same sad story with him, and I need a break from the sad stories.

Friday, August 1, 2008

Random Negro Stories File: The Invisible Man

So remember that relationship I was on the cusp of getting into? Well yea...we’re gonna scratch that from the record. Bad for me, but good for y’all, because what would this blog be if I weren't able to rant about all the ain't shit bammas I come across?

Add to the list Iraq. No he’s not really a foreign national, but he was (maybe still is) stationed there. He’s a Navy man. We met on Myspace a couple of months ago. I was bored and was searching for people to chat with over a Congressional recess. The pic he had posted had the nicest smile—almost rivaled mine, so I was intrigued. I sent him a note complimenting his smile and he wrote me back saying the same. We got to chatting and before too long we agreed to meet when he came back—which was supposedly last week.

We made all these grand plans to go to The Cheesecake Factory after I flew in from Chicago. He even called me the Tuesday and Wednesday before hand to confirm our Sunday date so I have no idea why I have yet to lay eyes on this brotha. I got home that Sunday from the airport and got a snack, took a nap, and logged on to see if he’d gotten my messages with my address. He did. So I’m figuring ok, well let me go ahead and get dressed because he should be here soon. So it’s six p.m.—our previously agreed upon time and he hasn't shown up yet. No worries, I kinda live in the boonies and my apt building is hard to find. Six-thirty comes. Nothing. Seven p.m. Still nothing. Why didn't you call him and see what’s going on you ask? Because I couldn't. Since he was overseas he didn't have a cell phone, so whenever we talked on the phone he called. By Seven-thirty I’d changed my clothes, ran up to this chicken spot called Cluck-U and sulked while scarfing down 10 traditional hot wings—with Ranch dressing. You should be proud of me though I didn't pop in When Harry Met Sally, my go to movie for my sad moments.

The next morning I send him a note on Myspace asking if everything was ok with him and to let me know what was up. I've never been stood up before so I've run the gamut of emotions on this one. First I was sad. Then angry. Like really, you’re just not gonna show up? But then I thought to myself maybe he's not back on American soil yet. Maybe he’s angry that he's still over there and is shutting me out. I almost wrote my local Congressman to see if he could get me on a convoy trip to Iraq so I could try to find him.

That was the best I could come up with to not feel like the whole thing was a sham. It's what I told myself for the past week to not feel duped by a guy that for two months called me beautiful, told me that he felt a connection with me and feigned excitement about meeting me. Hours after I sent the are you ok message I saw that he read it and thus far he has not responded. He logged in today and still nothing. It’s taking everything out of me to not send him a good cuss out message. I can’t lie, most of me is hoping that he’ll have a good explanation and that I’ll be able to go back to my happy "ooh isn't romance great" world.

Most of the folks I've told this story to is like oh just get over it, it was just two months on Myspace. But to me it wasn't. We spent hours at a time on the phone, on IM on web cam. I knew him, or I thought I did. I felt like he was my chance, like he was going to be the one to put an end to my Random Negro Stories File. But it lives on, so stay tuned for the next installment.