Slap in the Face(book)

Ok...well, that's not exactly true.  I am on facebook...but I do believe that the puppet strings controlling my life have been handed over to Satan, and facebook is his muse.  Rather than take down pictures and erase all the ex-beau pics last year, I curtailed a world-wide breakup by suspending my facebook account.  Periodically I'd sneak on to look at pictures, and to slowly reselect "friends" that earned the right to know all my bin-ness.  But for 7 months I was 98% single sexy and facebook free.

Then reality kicked in...and I realized that without a virtual thumb print, in many ways you don't exist.  I mean, of course if your peer circle is Blanche and the Golden Girls you're fine with your corded house phone with no call waiting...but for everyone else, social networking is a must.

So after my 7 month social hibernation, I reactivated my account, and jumped back into the virtual world like I never missed a beat.  That's when the Devil (I'm sure in an effort to humor God) grabbed my puppet strings.  I started reaching back (like I always do) trying to rekindle love I thought I new...when I SWEAR I had resolved to to myself to move forward, not backward.  And eventually...I even pulled up my ex-beau's page.  I know...I know...but I was curious.  He had gotten a little stockier and it made me feel good to see him looking worse than I remembered him with me. (Don't front, you would too.)

But right in the middle of my NEKKID moment - my try-and-be-patient, open-up-and-give-your-best moment - with my rekindled flame of yesterday, facebook slapped me in the face.  I mean Rick James "What did the five fingers say to the face" kind of slap.  I pulled up my ex's page and he is...

ENGAGED!  9 months after our engagement ended, and Sherman Klump (yes I'm exaggerating but roll with it) has found him a WIFE, and I can't even lock down a solid relationship.  To add insult to injury...or a kick in the gut to my Rick James' slap in the face...the same DAY I find out about the engagement, my rekindled flame pulls out citing that he loves me but needs to take a step back and be honest with himself so he can be 100% with me.  "I'm not throwing in the towel, I just need time to find clarity.  I'm not confused, just unsure" *bbm dead face*  Real quotes...and it smelled familiar...just not sure if the scent is "other woman" or "bullsh*t".  Either way, what is clear is that once again "he's just not that into [me]."

And so now, I'm in this weird space. In the middle of Ramadan, fasting without food or water from sunrise to sunset, at the most humbled and vulnerable place I have ever been, and feeling like Satan is manipulating my life and God is laughing at it all unfold.  Forget about the slap...and the kick in the gut...it's this ongoing joke at my expense that hurts the most.  

Nekkid

I know, I know.  It's been too long.  But rather than us chatting poolside, attempting to catch up on the last six months...imma just go ahead an jump on in like we never missed a beat.

I have to admit that on more than one occasion I've had one of those caught naked dreams.  Crazy enough, it's the same exact dream every time.  I'm in a grocery store by the meat and cheese section.  I'm carrying one of those hand baskets, then suddenly a draft from the deli section seizes me and I realize all eyes are on me. Basket drops.  Hands immediately cover the goodies, and like Forest Gump, I take off running.

Although it seems like ages since I've had that dream, that familiar feeling of involuntary over exposure hit me...today.  And although it would be much more publicly humiliating to be caught naked in a grocery store, I must admit that being caught emotionally naked comes in at a close second.  Well, before I go there, maybe I should confess.  Yes, good people... I (capital, bold, italicized). Am. Open. Over someone Incredible. But today, catching a faint breeze from his cold shoulder has me thinking about lacing up my Nikes.

But like Andre 3000 in The Morning After, I find myself scrambling to figure out what he's thinking and how I really feel.  Do I really want this? Is he even the picture I paint him to be?  "Be cool, be cool...but what if [he's] the ONE?"  Ok, the scenario wasn't exactly the same.  No need to worry, Mom.  No, there was no girl searching for her panties. Pause. However, I did start breaking my own rules...*bbm can't look face*

Ladies, do as I SAY and not as I (lost my damn mind and done) DID:

1) Don't bring him around your friends until you've met his.
2) Don't even talk about him to your family until you've met his.
3) *MOST IMPORTANT* Don't drop any "L" word until he's said it first.
(I said I lost my damn mind...)

Why are these rules?  Because acting otherwise will have your tail out, exposed and more vulnerable than you'd ever want to be.  TRUST.

Once upon a time, HE was open over ME...and I walked away.  This time around, I was so fixated at going in 100% no boundaries, earning his trust, proving myself and rebuilding something beautiful, that I forgot to protect ME.  So here I stand, fully (emotionally) exposed, and he's chillin at the door in his coat, hat and shoes! Perhaps it's my fear of rejection (Dear Lord, please grant me mercy because I think I've already suffered through my fair share), or just impatience.  But right now, all I want to do is escape this foolish feeling and move on to the next (default setting). I've wasted enough time tilling barren soil.  All these seeds I've been planting...is it too much to want to finally see something beautiful grow (and LAST)? Absolutelynot.

(Grabbing a sweater) But I can't run away just yet.  I still believe.  So I guess for now, I'll grab a cup of mint tea, plop my tail on the couch and tuck my pride (and Nikes) away.  Hopefully soon he'll take off those layers and sit next to me.  Hopefully. Soon...  

Yesss!

Just doing a little happy dance, because I just received a fantastic email from Mr. Mystery Man.  What a nice way to wake up ;)

Have a great day good people...hope you find reason to do a happy dance today too!

Click n Tell

One thing is for sure...I may be single...but the well sure ain't dry.  Praise be to God for that...and for great girlfriends and hookups.  Although the revolving door of my life seems to be moving a little too fast for my taste, it is nice to see I'm still getting steady traffic ;) Well anyway, on New Years Eve I was in Michael's with my simplistically elegant girlfriend (see: 2010 Simplicity) shopping for supplies for our 2010 vision boards when my phone rang.  Another girlfriend - I'll call her my lifesaver to avoid confusion - called to say that she met this guy months ago through a mutual friend and decided to set me up.  All she knew was that he was kind, shared the same religion, age and that he was good looking.  She had already put it all in motion sending pictures and contact information to him, so all I had to do was wait.

And that I did...for over a month.  After a couple days Mystery Man was demoted from a top draft pick to a bench warmer and I chalked it up as a nice thought.  I was surprised when I did finally receive an email from him. I really thought he wasn't interested (I mean who waits over a MONTH to send an email!?).  Anyway, his email was nice and brief, but very clear he had struggled trying to figure out how to break the ice with a person he'd never met.  In my attempt to respond I too faced the same struggle.  I mean ME, Queen of over-communication, Ms. "I say I'm going to keep it short but I still write 6 paragraphs" sat staring at the computer screen for HOURS not knowing what to say. I know I've me an unofficial hype (wo)man for edating...but I never actually exchanged emails with someone I didn't already know! So this whole get to know you process via email is a brand new beast.

Anyway we did push through the awkwardness and exchanged a few nice emails, but all of it was...vanilla.  Sweet and good, but nothing exciting. Bor-ring.  I mean, I'm not vanilla! I'm sooo cherry jubilee or maybe even cookies n cream!  But definitely.not.vanilla. I confided in my lifesaver...and she challenged me to be M-E.  She challenged me to channel my inner ping.

So with this in mind, I started writing him, and like magic, my fingers didn't stop moving until I had finished a fantastic, funny email full of life and personality. I read my completed email over and over, smiling like a proud parent...confident that FINALLY I was able to share a little of my flavor...my cherry jubilee.  And for the first time in dating (trust me, I'm using this term very loosely, lol), I.was.just.me.

On the train ride home listening to my iPod, the Miseducation of Lauren Hill spoke the words in my heart:

Let me be patient, let me be kind/ Make me unselfish, without being blind.
...I know I'm imperfect, and not without sin/ But now that I'm older, all childish things end.

I'm all grow up, and right now all I want is to be me, adored for who I am, as I am. My guard is down, and my heart is open. So as I patiently await a response to my email we'll see if this evolves into something substantial...but either way, the greatest gift any day is finding your voice. Find yours...and tell him.  It'll be alright ;)

ValenTIME

I know I said I'm a hater by nature, but on the day that usually resurrects the latent hater in all single women, I.was.overjoyed.  I love LOVE.  I love seeing happy couples, I love seeing men, young and old, with bouquets of flowers obviously for their special someone.  I know that feeling...and although it's been a while since my heart has skipped a beat, I'm proud to say that I do get joy in seeing others happy.  

I ventured out downtown today in search of an apartment and saw a man pick up his girlfriend and twirl her around romantically before giving her a kiss.  It was sweet and spontaneous...and coming from a girl who's walk often resembles a sashay or a periodic skip...I couldn't help but smile at their PDA.   

On the way through the underground walkway to catch my train, I passed the flower shop that makes me smile each time I walk by.  For some reason as I hurry by, I imagine my future husband bringing me flowers on his commute back home.  So when I see couples living in my dream it reaffirms my hope that one day soon, it will be me.


Today a close friend called to wish me a Happy Valentine's Day.  It was around 6pm, and he asked had I already gone out for the day on my date. I replied I had gone out, but not on a date.  "Why" he asked. I laughed and replied "Does everyone have to have a date on Valentine's Day?"  He answered "No, I just thought you would."  His response reminded me of the time I called eHarmony's customer service to cancel my subscription. She pulled up my profile and replied "You are so pretty, I can't believe you haven't found someone yet."  lol.  In both instances I was extremely complimented.  I mean, I know both comments reaffirmed that I AM still single, but it's still a great feeling to know others view your single status as illogical.  


So to my single-etts, I hope you enjoyed your Valentine's Day as much as I did.  Because I'm sure very soon it will be you being swept off your feet for an endearing kiss, or your Mr. Right boarding the train with a beautiful bouquet for you, just because.  At least when it comes to love, it's not always about the now...but the ever after. And when your Valentine does arrive, I promise he will be right on time. Just don't stop believing.

Dr. Dynamite

I had been boycotting Match for a while because (as I like to say) "my desired demographic is limited", lol. Well anyway, in my boredom for a new story to tell, I decided to jump back in the online game for a bit to fulfill my curiosity. I had a few emails sitting in my Match inbox, and they reel you in to subscribe because you can't check emails without given up that green. Well, in reluctantly signing back on, I realized you are granted three days free. Niiiice...I can check my email, delete my ex's profile AGAIN from popping up when I search, see if there's anyone worth talking to and cancel before having to pay!

The emails were garbage. I ran a quick search and the ex didn't pop up. I laughed to myself realizing the block feature works only when you subscribe. Funny. I know what you're thinking...don't go there. No bad blood...it's just a little painful when he's the most attractive guy that pops up in my search...every time. Ok, "painful" may not be the right word, but I definitely think it's a cruel joke that when I search 1) there's only about 10 men that meet my parameters (3 in the United States) 2) His handsome smiling face is always sandwiched between the shirtless mandingo from the UK and Dave Chappel's homeless looking cousin. Ok, that made me laugh out loud. I think God has a sense of humor.

Anyway, on Day 2 of the free trial I get an email from a familiar face. I.was.shocked. We knew each other from a past life...I was probably 19 and he was in his mid thirties. Nothing romantic, just crossed paths many years ago. Anyway, he hadn't popped up in my search because he's out of my age bracket. And although the email was harmless...it was clear he was reaching out to say more than just hi/bye. I immediately read his profile and I think I fell in love. He was kind, and intellectual...and had me thinking if I could happily be his spoiled tender roni.

I googled him...and fell deeper. I read about his dissertation and publications, his travels and interests. He had a reserve about him that had me enchanted. And although I hadn't ever been attracted to anyone that much older than me, something about him captured me. My girlfriend joked and said he wasn't my type because I like "cool guys"...but hands down his intellect had me at hello. His intellect was my new cool.

We talked over email for a couple weeks, and my mind was twisted. He never expressed any interest in me, or desire for anything romantic...but we did discuss views on marriage and relationships in a very generic way. I'd be a fool if I didn't know he was interested...but he wasn't inappropriate at all...as if he was waiting for me to be overt. However, if I flirted, he didn't flirt back...and slowly I realized I was wrapped up in a real life fantasy!

My mom didn't hate on me when I told her about him...but gradually I think she started to think he was too old. I joked and said "Well, he's not old enough for you to consider him for yourself, so I'm ok." She responded with a drawn out "Wellllll?"

Hold up! Did she just hesitate? OH H-NO! He's in my mother's pool of potentials? Notgonbeabletodoit.

I feel bad because I went from telling the man that I wish I could bake him muffins to take to his office, to taking days to respond to his emails. Horrible right? Gosh I wish he was 10 years younger...if so, I'd add the Mrs. to his Dr. Dynamite in a heartbeat. I'm just not quite ready to consider men who could be my step-daddy. No sir. Throw a ping. on that.

Mama Nose

"There are one too many women living in this house" my mother told me. I think I was 11. And she was right. As long as I can remember I've been an independent thinker, the person who approaches the world as if knowing all the answers to everything. By the time I turned 21, I started to figure out my life would be so much easier if I listened to my Mom's advice instead of fighting it. The strange side effect is I'm also slowly morphing into my mother. I realized this when I held up the line in the department store searching for a receipt in the pile 'o receipts I keep neatly tucked in my wallet. Mumbling to myself I said "No she won't give me no store credit...store credit, hmph! I'm going to get my CASH back as soon as I find this receipt." Oblivious to the stares of impatient customers behind me, I find the receipt and hold it up like a prize. "I knew I had it!" I look around, and noticing the expression of the strangers around me I shake my head. "I am my mother's child" I tell the salesclerk in disbelief. No one, and I mean no one, can hunt out a receipt or coupon like my mother.

It was a running joke in our family for years when my mother pulled out coupon for our family dinner at Red Lobster. I was probably 8. The waitress said "Mama be cuttin' those coupons!"...it was HILARIOUS, and we all laughed because it was so true. But it wasn't about cutting coupons, or being cheap, my mother was just wise enough to plan ahead and spend wisely. And although I haven't developed the coupon cutting habit just yet, I've grown wise enough to consult her with my large financial decisions. And although I still run around like a know it all periodically, I appreciate my mother for setting such a great example in so many ways and always knowing when I need her.

Most recently I've been struggling with this property I've been maintaining in CA...that I love. Fortunately when I moved back east I was able to rent it...but this market isn't doing well...and I've had think hard about keeping or selling the house I thought would put my children through college. *dramatic sigh* I talked to my mom, and she helped me gain perspective and setup my options. Later that night she sent me great email...as if she knew what I needed to hear to not feel so burdened by my pending financial decisions. As if she smelled it in the air. Mothers have a nose for these kind of things...and similar to when we were young and only she could smell that the stove pilot was on, she still knows when her children need her. And although no one can get under my skin like she...I hope she "nose" how much I love her too. So I don't mind morphing into my mother. If I could be half as endearing, and together as she, I'd still be one baaaad mamma jamma ;)

Ice Cube'd

I was pretty excited after my girls' weekend o' fun despite the lost wallet. I decided to register for an accounting class for kicks at the nearby community college, and was able to get the class paid for AND get VIP access in the registration line all during my lunch break.  I floated back to work on Cloud 9, still in shock that a $650 course would only cost me $30. Not even an hour after my return, I receive a call from the college alumni office.


"Miss, I think I have some very good news for you."


At this point I'm thinking "Is she going to WAIVE the $30 TOO? No way..."
I manage to reply a cool "Okay?"


"We received a call that someone found your wallet in a cab.  They called our office and I pulled your student record.  I was not sure if you wanted me to share your telephone number, but I can conference her in so you two can speak."


Speak? I'm speechless! How did...What?!?  I spit out a "Yes! Please!"


We were connected and I thanked her for grabbing my wallet and finding me.  I thanked her for proving my theory that people ARE inherently good. I confessed that I believed someone would call me.  Many people say karma is a b...  but I beg to differ, because without fail, my karma is good. Like, I can't believe this is happening good.  Like, there's gotta be a God good.


During my girls weekend I remember discussing trust.  One girlfriend confessed that her trust must be earned, requiring people to prove their worthiness before she lets down her guard.  I told her that I believe life is much more enjoyable when you assume all people are deserving until they prove otherwise.  I shared my belief that people are inherently good, and ultimately all we can control is what we put out into the universe in hopes to positively impact the lives of others.  But trust is like charity.  The blessing is in giving...not how the recipients utilize that gift.


I trusted that an honest person would do just as I would, and find the owner.  She did.  And as I wait for my wallet to arrive, I am thankful to God and the universe for this example when both my trust and faith in the goodness of the human spirit were justified.  The only thing that can complete a moment like this is theme music. Too easy...

Dude, Where's My Wallet?

Out hanging with the girls. Fab time.  We decide on Indian for dinner, and aside from Arab, and Mediterranean, Indian food is my absolute favorite. Something about garlic naan and chicken tikka saag make my insides jump for joy.  But back to the story.  I reach for my wallet to grab the travel size hand sanitizer stashed in my Coach clutch.. Ok.. not in that pocket...(checking the other side) or that one either. Where is my wallet?? Not AGAIN, I think.  I'm notorious for leaving something.  Keys, sunglasses, purse, phone, something.  And without fail when I'm juggling more than three things in my hand.  Two things at a time I can handle...one item per hand.  But when I get to three, inevitably something gets left. And sure enough I did it again. This time, in the process of managing an umbrella, my recent purchase of The 5 Love Languages from Borders, watermelon sour patch kids, a pack of Doublemint gum, my cell phone and my clutch wallet. Somewhere between the checkout at Borders, pitching my umbrella, hailing a cab in the cold rain and arriving at our Indian restaurant I managed to keep track of everything BUT my wallet.  smh.


Our appetizers arrive at the table in the midst of my realization, and my girlfriends quickly move to act. One calls the cab company to try and track the driver.  One searches diligently from the door to under the table to make sure it didn't fall on the floor.  The other girlfriend grabs my Border's receipt to call the bookstore.  I say aloud "Nana Danso."  What? (They ask in unison).  Nana Danso, the driver's name.  I don't know why his I.D. card stood out to me as I sat in the back of his cab for the duration of the ride, but for some reason I had fixated on it.  1) I know a "Nana" and 2) "Danso" reminded me of Danskin...you know the athletic gear.  Idk, but it did. For the moment I thought this was a divine sign.  And although 3 hours later I am still without my wallet, I'm hoping I remembered his name for a reason and that Nana Danso comes through.


As I realized my friends hadn't touched the appetizers poised to co-conquer my dilemma, I gesture towards the food "Eat! We can't let this situation ruin our dinner. I insist"  As I finished cancelling my cards and freezing my account spending I joked "Since this meal is on you guys, I will be sure to enjoy it thoroughly."  We all did.


My girlfriends commented on how calm I remained, and joked about how frantic they would have been if in my shoes.  Hearing that I was pleased. Almost proud, but I'm not sure I can take credit for my calm.  I mean, it's not like I haven't lost my wallet before.  But as I think about it...even then my temperament was the same.  In the midst of a crisis I usually do stay pretty calm.  But why, oh why, when it comes to matters of the heart does every mole hill appear to be a mountain?


So even though I'm still praying that Nana Danso re-emerges into my life with my wallet, I may chalk up the $60 and Best Buy gift card it contained to a lesson learned. Perhaps my lesson is to tap into my inner Spock (one time for you Trekkies) and apply my stoicism in the midst of relationship situations when I'd normally over react.  Perhaps playing it cool in the midst of a crisis needs direly to be sprinkled across other areas of my life as well.  Ahhhhhhaaaa! (said in my best Eddie Murphy Coming to America Jewish Man in the Barbershop Voice).  I think I'm on to something.  But as we wait patiently for a subject to test this new theory, please send up a prayer for my wallet to make it back home safely.

Grey Days

I've always been sensitive.  Tough exterior, and childhood bully, but as long as I can remember I was a big crier. Yes, I'm warm and fuzzy, I skip AND cry...but for some reason I'm still told with my 5'9 frame that I can be "intimidating". Go figure.


But as an adult, I've evolved. Being composed is having control. Tears are weak. Big girls don't cry. We eat ice cream by the pint and shop our worries away. So I don't cry. It's not like I suppress it, but for some reason rarely does the hand I'm dealt feel cry worthy.


I mean, I'm not suffering through the aftershock of a 7.3 earthquake in an already impoverished nation.  I'm no soldier in this endless war, or a spouse who has to explain to my toddler that daddy's never coming home. No.  My life isn't tear worthy.  And I guess my tear ducts agree...or they're on strike.  Well, except for Thursdays.


But like a snake sheds skin, women NEED to shed tears.  Tears are cleansing...a relieving opportunity to let go, feel (pause) and move on.  So TGIT.  Thank.God.For.Thursdays.  THANK GOD for Grey's Anatomy. Because of Grey's I can cry.  And not a mild cry...I'm talking about a "Don't call me I can't pick up" cry.  An "I know my nose is dripping but I can't move until the commercial" cry.  And I know it seems silly, with the predictable scripts and endless round robin soap opera relationships, but Thursdays are cathartic.


Christina and her stoic exterior, yet innate need to feel believed in. Meredith learning to love and be loved without ever seeing what that really looks like. Bailey and her failing struggle to give 110% to career, motherhood and being a wife and the tragic consequences. And even though I can relate, it's not me.  I can cry because it's THEM. THEIR pain, and not.me.


If I had to diagnose myself, I'd say that perhaps I'm suppressing my true feelings.  But honestly, it doesn't FEEL that way. And although this nagging pain across my shoulders suggests otherwise, I don't even feel stressed.  I think just like men need avenues to channel their testosterone and aggression (usually through recreation and violent sports), I need my weekly fix to balance out all this estrogen.


So after nearly two months feeling like Amy Winehouse searching out a pipe...Grey's is back, and so is my habit. Please know that once again Thursdays are sacred time and I can not be reached. The DO NOT DISTURB sign is in full effect and thanks to Private Practice, hours have now been extended from 9-11pm.  But don't worry, Friday morning I will emerge a refreshed and recharged woman counting down the days till we can do it all over again.  Ahhh...simple pleasures.  But now that I've had my weekly fix, excuse me as I go find a Massage Envy so they can holla at this shoulder pain.  eeemmeeediately

Flashback

I know I'm too old to pout.  But have you ever had a moment that reminded you of the past and your stomach dropped a little?  I'm there. Today. Two years ago...smh.  So much has changed in a couple years, yet remained the same.  Ok, enough of the ambiguous language.  I just had to poke out my bottom lip real quick...

Snow Unhappy

After appreciating the beautiful, picturesque (yet very brown) landscape of California, it was nice to return home to the lush green of the East Coast. Springtime Philadelphia left me in awe, and I found myself noticing the incredible and historic local architecture in a way I had never before. Previously I HATED the North East for its pollution and overpopulation, but gradually I developed an appreciation for my city and the opportunity to re-experience it as an adult. Summer was HOT, and to a summer baby, I enjoyed every day.


But then the season changed.  It was cool (ok) initially, but only for a New York minute. Very soon my grumbling evolved in a outward disdain for the cold, winter, this dreary city, and most recently...the snow.


The first snowfall began on a Saturday.  Truthfully, it was one of the most beautiful moments to see the pure white snow fall so delicately and abundantly.  23 inches.  But like a needle pushed across a record, my nostalgia was interrupted at 8pm by 1 word. My father: "We need to go out and shovel before that turns to ice."  I know, that was 12 words, but my problem was the "We".  Whiskey Tango Foxtrot, was he serious?  I've purposely purchased property so I DIDN'T have to worry about trifles such as mowing and shoveling.  I haven't pushed a shovel since my teens.  Was he SERIOUS?  Yes. Tragedy.


So I pull out my insulated rubber boots I still had from Inauguration and threw on my brothers old ski coat and went out to brave the cold looking like an overdressed sumo wrestler.  We were the only ones initially, soon joined by our Indian neighbor who just moved from Florida and never managed snow.  Luckily the snow was powder so after an hour or so we cleared our driveways and front walkway and helped our elderly neighbor do the same.  Needless to say I was warm and stayed dry, so it wasn't too bad...until the next morning.


Sunday, 10 am: "Come on, we need to get out there again" he says.  I looked around trying to figure out who he was talking to then pull the covers back over my head.  It can't be me. He heads out without me and I peek outside to see the few extra inches that accumulated overnight.  He can handle that without me (I think to myself).  I hear all the neighbors talking and working together and soon the rumbling of a snow blower.  I'm saved!!  Knowing my dad he'll borrow the snow blower and be done with it. 3 hours later he comes back inside.  Not unusual because he's like the Mayor...talking, waving, taking pictures and kissing babies...so I knew "shoveling" was really "social hour".  But anyway, he comes back in and I'm reading a book.


"I was waiting for you" he says. "Really? I heard you go out and then heard the snow blower and thought you didn't need me" I reply, kinda feeling guilty. "No, I needed you" (no he didn't) "Everyone else was out there with their children" (ok, it's all starting to make sense). "I need you to help out."  I reply "But Dad, I was out there with you last night, I did help."  At this point I'm thinking "Give me a break.  I'm a young lady! MEN are supposed to do these things, anyway." Ok, that was a diva thought, but seriously, isn't there someone we can pay to do that kind of manual labor?!? Sheesh!


"I need to be able to show you certain things so you know how to do them."  I choked. Is he kidding?  I'm almost 30, and we lived in CHICAGO!  It's not that I don't know HOW to shovel, I don't WANT to shovel.  He can't possibly think THIS is a skill 1) I don't have 2) need to develop. But I've been guilted.  Needless to say, if it snows again the streets of Philadelphia will be seeing the return of the overdressed sumo wrestler (smh in disgust).  But dearest Philadelphia, and dear God, right now I'm only asking for two things: 1) DON'T let it snow anymore 2) PLEASE make sure this time next year I'm living someplace where snow boots, shovels and rock salt are all distant memories.  Ameen.

Telling Secrets

I wish I could say I read The Secret...but sometimes the rebel in me fights to go against the grain.  Now we can all occasionally benefit from being the lone sheep (individual) that strays away from the herd (maintream), but I'll save that subject for another day.  On this day, I wish I had listened when Oprah endorsed the book in 2007. 


But anyway, like I said I still haven't actually ever read the book...but one day in 2008 while rummaging through the stacks of movies accumulated from my dad's care packages, I ran across The Secret DVD.  Prior to watching the documentary, the word "Believe" had always been a source of personal inspiration (believe in the God, believe in the your dreams, believe in the goodness of others, etc.).  After watching the DVD, the word became my personal mantra.  Essentially the concept of The Secret, is that the key to a prosperous life is to believe in your limitless possibility.  If you're into the power of positive thinking, I won't ruin it for you so you can read/watch for yourself.  However, in the spirit of New Year's resolutions, and personal growth, taking a tip from The Secret may help us all be more successful at attaining our goals, and welcoming into our lives the things we deeply desire.


Often times we seek to break bad habits with the thoughts like "today I will stop..."  Unfortunately many of us don't realize that merely how we communicate our goals can affect our success achieving those goals.  The problem is that when we communicate our desires, often times we say what we DON'T want, so our mind still visualizes the bad habit or negative behavior we seek to correct.  For example if I say "don't run out in the street"...what does your mind see? Take a moment. Most likely you still see a child, or a person running out into the street (contrary to what you said).  Crazy right?  So whenever we speak in terms of negative action, our mind and subconcious still visualizes the behavior or things we DON't want, vs. the positive things or behavior we truly desire.


Napoleon Hill, an early pioneer for personal success literature, is often quoted for his statement "What the mind of man can conceive and believe, it can achieve." So the key is utilizing positive language so your mind can visualize positive action.  So "don't run out into the street" becomes "wait at the bus stop" and "I want to stop eating junk food" becomes "I will drink two glasses of water and five baby carrots when I need a snack."  I was amazed at how this philosophy translates not only to how we communicate to ourselves but to each other.  How often do we tell our partners and friends what we "don't like" or they "don't do" without actually really communicating the image of what we really want?


Think about it...and try the concept on for size.  I bet you will emerge a "believer" too :)

2010 Simplicity

I've always prided myself for being "down to earth."  You know, fly enough to kick it with the girls, but cool enough to hang with the boys.  And although my look is pretty conservative, I swear my alter ego has locs and is tatted up with a nose ring.  Somehow I've always managed to feel like a chameleon, able to adapt in any environment among anyone...but lately I have moments that cause me to question my "realness."  Moments that have left me feeling as if I am really pretentions, superficial, and judgmental.  Call it age, but I think my comfort zone has decreased in radius...and I don't approve.


I started to wonder if I'm missing the simple splendor of life while observing a friend in her elegant simplicity.  Her apartment is cozy yet unassuming and deliberate.  There is no obnoxious flat screen tv, cable, or even high speed internet, rather a big bookshelf filled with books that paint a picture of a life well lived and well traveled.  At Whole Foods, I watched as she delightfully and fearlessly sampled from the food displays.  The organic cocoa walnuts in an open bowl, the sundried tomato veggie dip, and the freshly sliced pineapple.  She urged me to try, and FINALLY, I realized she wouldn't let me refuse.  I (hand dramatically placed on chest) don't. eat. from open food displays (I thought to myself).  After my FOURTH piece of deliciously juicy omg, can't get enough pineapple, I started to wonder how much I (hand dramatically placed on chest) have been missing out on.  How much I haven't enjoyed because I dismissed it/him/her at first glance.  It was like the matrix was revealed and she was Neo.  Suddenly I realized how little wiggle room I left to enjoy the unexpected.  Am I really a *gasp*control freak?


In the recent age of self-help advice, and Steve Harvey's "Act like a Lady, Think like a Man", I've been poised to map out exactly what I want and communicate appropriately.  I've been challenged to define the mold I fit into, and proclaim to the world definitively what I want from life, friendships and relationships and refuse to deviate or settle for anything less.  However, in an effort to blossom into my better self, I've abandoned my inner chameleon to be replaced by high standards, unwavering expectations and the predisposition to plan and play it safe. 


Granted, I want the best for myself and believe in the power effective communication and visualizing your desired reality...I'm there.  I just know that perhaps the best part of me (or anyone) is the ability to appreciate others for who they are, AS they are...not constantly measured by a lengthy checklist I've created as a barometer for what is "acceptable".  The reality is, I'm not too confident that God isn't still working on me, so I've decided to release my inner control-freak and reopen my heart to whatever He brings in my life.  Once again living, loving, learning and appreciating without boundary.  So I declare 2010 the Year of the Sponge.  A year I declare to humble myself, and hopefully absorb the lesson(s) intended for me.  Oh, and the checklist? Still in effect, but with the help of my simplistically elegant friend, the list is miraculously holding at #3...and never felt so complete.  Have a wonderful New Year, good people, and may this year be equally enlightening to each of you.  And if you have the chance, stop and sample a little pineapple on me.


Curious to know my new checklist?
1) Relationship with God (shared values)
2) Kind/Gentle Command (ability to lead with respect and kindness)
3) Strength and Stability (personal, professional and financial)

The Magic Lamp

A great friend shared this song with me today...I needed it.
But she's always on point like that. 

Some things don't make sense...but this beautiful mess is life. is love.
Remembering that makes me smile.

Riding the subway to visit this same girlfriend I found a seat next to a teenage couple.  They were standing but both huddled affectionately together holding the bar attached to my immediate right.  Their puppy love was radiating.  It made me smile, and remember that feeling of being young, fearless and in love.  I remembered those moments, feeling as if time had paused, and nothing else mattered or moved but the two of you. So brave, so sweet, and so innocent.  You would think that by now, I'd be a love scrooge, but amazingly I remain a hopeless romantic. Seeing happy couples inspires me to believe that the fairytale does still exist.


So real talk, like finding a magic lamp in the least expected place, I rubbed.  Seriously.  I deliberately (but inconspicuously) rubbed my knee on the back of the teenager's leg in hopes that their fearless love would rub off on me.  I don't even need three wishes.  One wish is all I need...and I promised to keep that part private :)  But, if believing in true love carried me this far, I'll still hold on for a little longer.  My magic carpet still has some miles left, lol.

Stop This Train

It seems that so frequently ended relationships are likened to transportation. The funniest is "Girls are like buses, miss one next 15 one coming."  Ok, I admit that was Gucci Mane, and really isn't a coherent statement, but you get the gist.  Lately, my friend's declaration that "this train moves forward, not backward" has been resonating through my mind.  I wish it was that simple for me.  To move onward to new faces and new places without glancing back at the past.  Even though the train moves forward, every other boxcar has seats facing backward.  Everyone knows facing the opposite direction can give you motion sickness...I'm just not sure why I always end up with the wack seat.


Perhaps it's so difficult because in my world, stalkers keep honing devices charged up on their hip. Is it just me?  Why do these characters (of all people) always come back STRONG when I'm single. Every time I'm having a Beyonce me, myself and I moment, the phone starts ringing with those familiar old catastrophes?  Whiskey tango, big brother are the cameras on?  Why are THEY all of a sudden calling, NOW?  We all can use a beautiful distraction periodically...and it's nice to have familiar folks remind you that through it all they'd still ride out with you (ha, another one)...but I'm sick of the same tired cycle.  So (insert stalker names here), I know how things used to be, but I'm heading in a new direction (I'm on a roll, lol). Forget switching seats, just stop this train. I'm hopping off.  I think I'm going to walk for a while until I figure out a better way to reach my destination.

Hijab Hotseat

We'll call him "Mr. Officer". And although he was below my height preference, he looked awfully good in uniform. *sigh* Yes. Yum. Well, shortly after our first meeting he texts "so I guess you don't cover?" Wow...for the record I do "cover" thank you very much. Despite my affinity for tight jeans, I do try to keep my goodies tastefully covered. I'm sure my mother would argue I could be more modest. Don't tell her, but she's right. I'm working on it. But I knew Mr. Officer meant my hair. I did cover my hair, once. It was my last year in college, and although my attempted style was more J-Lo tie-back or Lauren Hill remixed with a hat and scarf...I did it. For me. For God. For a year. I'm sure to many the decision was strange, but for me, it was a protection from vanity and unwanted attention. It saved me, and helped me graduate...and for the first time in my LIFE I made straight A's.


I uncovered my hair for graduation, and made the decision to assimilate to the norm of Corporate America. Religiously, I studied the schools of thought on hijab (click to Wikipedia it), the Qur'an and sunnah (reports on the life and teachings of Prophet Muhammad, may God be pleased with him) and perhaps for my own convenience accepted that the decision remains with the woman.


I responded to Mr. Officer, deliberately clarifying "My Hair? No. Does your mother cover her hair? Is that your preference?" Initially, I was caught off guard, but just as I WOULD PREFER that he were 3 inches taller, he has a right to prefer a hijabi, especially because his mom covers as I suspected. Now one thing is for sure, although I tend not to tout my knowledge of my religion...I'm no slacker. I know what I believe, why I believe it...and if you give me a minute I can also authenticate it with doctrine. Don't play me. However, this was only our second conversation...so I'm giving Mr. Officer a pass for attempting to school me on what "God obligates" for women. Out of respect for him and my sisters who do cover their hair I concluded the convo stating this isn't about right or wrong, but two different understandings. I even said I would keep him in mind for any hijabi friends. It ended well...but truthfully the discussion got under my skin.


I immediately started researching the issue, poised to "school him" on the really real. But realized my issue was with me, not him. I deleted the email. I spent the next few days in the mirror putting a scarf on, then pulling it off... figuring out if I could wear one for the rest of my life. I have always loved what it represents, and the strength of the women who cover their hair for their beliefs, especially in the face of present day hostility. I think the conversation with Mr. Officer got to me because the real reason I don't cover is because I haven't found the inner strength to be so different. I love what I believe, and do long to be identified for who I am and how I've been raised. I wish I was brave enough to be the friendly, familiar face to work against the picture of insanity and extremism that has infected the image of a beautiful faith. But the truth is, I'm not. However, something within me has changed, thanks to Mr. Officer. One day I do hope to have that strength....not for him (absolutely not) or because I think I have to. But for God and for me. Because I'd much rather escape my vanity and be admired for my actions, words and my faith than anything else. Wow...message, lol. Throw a "ping." on that b...

To eat, or not to eat?

This seems to be a lot of folks' question this holiday season.  But for darn sure I know the answer...EAT.  New Years' resolutions were created to help you plan to get rid of the lil bulge that accummulated since Thanksgiving.  I've watched people pass up on baked macaroni and cheese and sweet potato pie because they're counting calories.  Are you serious?  Being healthy IS a lifestyle that involves proper diet and exercise, BUT that doesn't mean you gotta suck the pleasure out of eating your favorite meals!  Let me just go ahead and say it: If you are worried about the holidays adding on a little extra, you've probably been living with "a little extra" all year.  Get over it already.  Stop stressin' and obsessin' over calories...you only draw excess attention to the fact you've already needed to be in the gym (real talk).  Loosen up your Michelle Obama belt, and go grab that extra piece of cornbread, with glee.  I can't eat it all myself.  Tis' the season for good eatin'.


Obviously, I do indulge, but I don't overeat...nor do I recommend that you become gluttonous.  But I do implore you to eat what you enjoy, and eat well this season, unapologetically.  Most athletes in peak physical shape, eat (much of) what they please, but exercise to maintain their physique. If consuming your favorite holiday food leaves you feeling guilty, go for a jog or walk before and after your meal.  I'm no nutritionist, or gym rat, but I do know when my butt needs to holla at a treadmill or a spin class...and I will.  But until January 1, 2010, imma holla at some of that apple pie, pecan pie, sweet potato bean pie, my mama's moist and delicious butter cake, and corner piece of her pineapple upside down cake. *dead serious*  They say you are what you eat, so I strive to stay sweet, good people...that's all.  Hope you do too.  Merry eating to all, and to all a good meal.

PRYvacy

I knew there was a possibility he'd be reading...but not seriously.  He just came out and said it.  "I've been reading your blog...and it's (actually) really good."  After I realized I wasn't actually speaking the thoughts swarming in my head, I managed to shove out an awkward chuckle, followed by a sincere "Really?" I can't remember what was said after that...but slowly my shock (whaaa?) evolved to embarrassment (omg, what have I said?) to confusion (why are YOU reading?) to absolute unwavering irritation (you really have some nerve).  Slowly my awkward half smile became a hard middle-school lip curl.


Besides the fact that I (emphasize the singular responsibility) decided to write a PUBLIC blog, can a girl get some privacy?  But who can blame him, if the shoe were on the other foot, I'd read too...and so would you, good people.  Wouldn't you read a private card or letter of a past/present beau if left wide-out in the open?  Hell, give you a password and you may even read a few emails and check a few voice mail messages.  Moms read their daughters' diaries, girlfriends turn Snoopy, and boyfriends (cyber) stalk. It is what it is.  But who is to blame?


Blame STUPIDITY.  I can think of at least 13 STUPID mistakes explaining Tiger "Cheetah" Woods' revoked privacy privileges.  Mashonda and Swizz Beaks? Stop being STUPID arguing on Twitter and save that dialogue for the courtroom.  Finalize the divorce already, so we too can move on with our lives.  But celebs aren't the only ones prone to an occasional dummy-move.  We all have had a moment when a lapse in judgement has resulted in something personal ending up on Front St.  


So chalk it up as a lesson learned, and accept that we choose how many windows we open into our world, and to whom.  It is impossible to pry something open that isn't already partially ajar.  All we can do is guard our words and actions, so when life thrusts us into the spotlight, we can hold our heads high with dignity.  So admittedly, my lip curl has lessened to a smile.   I haven't written for two weeks agonizing if my words would be clever enough.  Fagedaboutit.  I'm back like Ma$on Betha and thankful you're still here to listen (read), good people...even if you-know-who is eavesdropping, lol.  Guess he still can use just a little ping. in his life too. Priceless.

Love & Basketball

First Mike Vick. Then the World Series...and now *long sigh of relief* Allen Iverson is back home! Way to end the year with a bang Philadelphia! On my drive home today I was listening to the press conference on the radio and 3 minutes in, tough guy A.I. was in tears saying how this return was such a blessing. I'd be lying if I said I didn't shed a tear. Well, actually not just A tear...a girl was straight boo-hooing. In the car, on Lincoln Drive, I was SOBBING because I was overjoyed. I felt like my family, my baby boy was home to stay.

As I flashback to the days when Nike was my Louboutin, and there was nothing greater then when my name and stats were in the paper, Allen Iverson was my basketball love. I remember watching him play at Georgetown, and cutting out pictures of him in magazines to paste on my wall. In 1996, he came to Philly and gave this city exuberance. Yeah, he was cocky, but he was Philadelphia's bravado personified. He was the MAN...and eventually as I grew older, nothing was greater that to see him in Olde City. I remember one night at the M Lounge passing him seated at the bar. There was no obnoxious entourage, or braggadocios charade...it was just Allen. He was one of us. And for that reason we loved him.

But the relationship wasn't always easy. We watched A.I. grow. We cheered with his mamma nem (yes, hood style) in the stands, remember when he got married and the marital drama that ensued. We were there when children were born and practices were missed, and charges were filed. We were there when he led us to the finals in 2001, and watched in the agony as he butt heads with Coach Larry Brown. It was bittersweet to see him leave in 2006, but like an unruly, ungrateful, and disrespectful teenager...sometimes love isn't enough. Sometimes despite their amazing potential, and your fear they may never return, you just have to let them go in hopes that being unsheltered will help them get it together.

I don't think Allen or Philadelphia ever thought he'd return. We let him go and watched painfully as it appeared he'd never find the balance between his star and his team. But despite all his accolades and undeniable talent, Allen Iverson has never won a ring. After flirting with retirement, the opportunity for Allen to come home and play again has become a defining moment for his career. Hell, we know it ain't the money. Not for a one year non-guaranteed contract for $1 million! Shoot, there are people with the franchise pushing paper making $1 million a year. Allen Iverson is back and playing for love. Love for the Game. Love for his fans. Love for Philly.

I feel like this is a Love & Basketball moment when Sanaa Lathan is playing one on one with Omar Epps for his heart. I am sure when A.I. steps on the court Monday to play his former team, the Denver Nuggets, he will be playing to win back the hearts of Philadelphia. I applaud his humility, his courage, and believe he will be greater than ever before. Not defined just by steals or number of 3's hit, but by character, and leadership. I truly hope (at least once) that we all gain the chance to be so humbled by an opportunity, or by the possibility of love, that we are so inspired to shed a tear, thank God, and play our hearts out. That by experiencing loss, we learn to appreciate the things or people we once neglected. We may not be able to guarantee a win, but at least when the day is done, we too, like Allen Iverson, will retire proudly in the company of those who have loved us along the way...or like the movie, ante up for double or nothing.

Stop eDating Hating

I should be paid for this plug, but some things are worth doing for the f-r-double e. After having the identical conversations with several girlfriends, I realize the jury is still out on internet dating. If my ex read this he'd DIE...but the truth is, we met through (drum line) Match.com. *kanye shrug* I only share this because the stigma around internet match sites is that you have to be desperate, or have nothing to offer. Not the case anymore. I mean, COME ON. You already know what I think of myself (ha. I kid...a little), and I know my ex and I broke up and all, but he's still FINE, and a hell of a catch for someone (else)...and HE was on there. So it's not too far fetched that there are others out there also.

If you're turning your nose up already and you are SINGLE, check yourself! Because whatever you have been doing isn't/hasn't been working. I'm sorry...brace yourself for this: ALL your past relationships have failed (harsh, but true). So, really, what do you have to lose? I'm only suggesting you re-evaluate your strategy.

During the time I ran across my ex's profile, I too was anti-internet sites, but was using my (super fly, successful, beautiful, fitness junkie) girlfriend's profile to periodically search. Granted my demographic (ethnicity+religion+interests) is uncommon, however, it was so worth it. Even if it only lasted for a quick second. Ha. But I digress. I can't tell you how many people shared stories of their MARRIED friends who met the same way. Now, no system is 100% and yes, I am still single, however...I am still a fan of the sites! And anyway, this is about YOU right now, not me.

I don't want to belabor the issue, but I do want to challenge those of you on the fence, to take a leap of faith already. So what if someone that knows you, sees your profile...it means they're in on the game too. Unless you want to limit your options for meeting the love of your life at the gym, club, gas station or work, fix your face, re-frame it and put your pride aside. JUST TRY IT! Keep an open mind and heart and give it a shot. Trust me, you have nothing to lose, and it only takes one (the right one) to make it all worth it. Plus...those weekend marathons to see how many Bravo re-runs you can watch in a sitting isn't a good look. I'm just sayin. Have some fun.

Platonic Plague

I think if the word "friend" had a price tag attached to it, maybe folks wouldn't be so quick to toss the title around so casually. With that in mind, I'd love to say MY friend circle is small and intimate...but once I realized my bridesmaid list would either be one or 10 (not including the couple guys I also wanted to add to the groom's side)...I accepted that my insider circle may be intimate...but one thing it ain't is small. So I'm not pointing fingers, I get that we all have our personal cool kids club...but I'm just saying...some people definitely DO NOT need to have a membership card.

1) Exes. This includes any relationship that progressed beyond high-five homies. I mean really, what good are they to you now?? Unless I missed the memo that NEW relationships require references and background checks, being friends with an ex is a disaster waiting to happen. In case you don't believe me, 94% of women who "befriend" their ex take twice as long to move onto a new relationship. Ok, I made that up, but if you can be such great friends, why can't you make the relationship work? (I bet money you'll ask yourself that at least once in the "we're just friends now" stage.)

2) People who don't check on/call YOU. Now I don't mean occasionally, I mean NEVER. If you're sick, lost your job, lost a family member and they aren't there to make sure you're needing a ride to the ER, naked on a rooftop, or crying in the closet...they are no longer in the club. Deactivate their membership immediately. I know, you give great advice and they rely on you...NEED you. However, look at it this way, we all need to hear our own good advice periodically. If you always share the good stuff with folks that aren't ever around when YOU need to hear it, you're wasting your breath.

3) Someone you'd otherwise date that is currently in a relationship. Um hello? Can you say t-o-r-t-u-r-e? AND, not only is karma a mutha, but God forbid a hot, intelligent, down to earth, charming woman like yourself be-all-"friendin" up (yes, made that up) on your man (when you finally find him)! No indeed. Now usually these friendships start out honest, but after a while either you will end up frustrated, foolish or just f-ed up for interfering with someone else's relationship. If you are SO sure that the big picture is the story of your destined love together, then surely you can let her have ONE chapter without meddling. It makes for a better story anyway. *kanye shrug*

4) Someone that wants to date you, that you don't want to date. Now that's just mean. We all deserve a loyal fan...but it's just not right. In the process you will probably end up ruining someone that would otherwise be a great match for someone else. Play with it if you like, and one day that loyal fan may be you. Did I mention the long work hours and no benefits?

All too often we allow ourselves to be entangled in the facade of platonic relationships with hopes of "one day." Occasionally we may even protect our own vulnerability by hiding behind unavailable options. Pause for the cause, and figure out what you really need in your relationships, and communicate accordingly. No fronting. Hopefully then, when you do call out for a friend, (s)he is exactly what you need.

The Cool Pop Chronicles Vol. 1

My father is arguably the coolest man I know. Swag on 100,000 trillion? Yep that's him. You can recognize him from a mile away because his walk is a dash of Iceberg Slim and a sprinkle of Denzel's smooth. As a child I was the Woodstock to his Joe Cool, the Rudy to his Cliff Huxtable...I wanted to be just like him.

Over the years he has taught me much...about self value, religion, discipline, conviction, professional success and most recently relationships. Although you can never tell if he's about to clown you or drop inspiration, undoubtedly I often leave our conversations wishing I had a tape recorder. After recently sharing some of his words of wisdom among friends, I realized how much his words have helped me. I was reminded of the days when Dads were gods, I was just a little Woodstock and everything he said was golden. Today, I hope to share a few of these golden nuggets with you. It's ok, I think I have a few cool points to spare...

1) On competition/intimidation: Don't let anyone interfere with your A-game. Don't worry about what anyone else is doing. Stay focused, and play your top game.

2) On pushing the envelope: Remember ABC: Always be closing (sales terminology for finalizing a concrete action/sale to move business or advance your agenda)

3) On awkward silence: Don't be so serious. When tension is high, always have a clean joke. It may be corny, but it will break the tension.

4) On breakups: You have to take the 'e' out of 'emotion' and get in 'motion'. We don't feel sorry for ourselves. We keep moving.

5) On misfortune: Whenever something good happens to us we say "Alhamdullilah" (all praise is due to God), but when things don't go well we say "woe is me." We have to remember to praise God always, even during misfortune. Sometimes a seemingly good thing is bad for us, and a seemingly bad this is good for us.

6) On unexpected surprises: When the universe gives you a gift, it's our obligation to acknowledge and cherish it.

7) On effective communication: Think three times before you speak.

8) On seeking truth: With knowledge and life choices, too often we respond as if we are starving. Consequently we "consume" whatever is placed in front of us...even if it is not good for us. We must be selective with the information we accept for truth and in our decision making... just as we are selective with what we eat. Just because a plate is put in front of us does not mean we must eat from it. You have the right to push it away, and to choose what you ingest mentally and physically.

As we all continue on our individual journey to find our truth, may we also find our voice, our swag and most definitely our cool.

Time Out

Just want to take a moment to say thanks for the crazy support, encouragement and enthusiasm I've gained for my writing. If you enjoy reading my banter as much as I enjoy writing, please share my link with the girls in your circle. I also invite you to weigh in on anything I say whether it be a "who are you to say..." or simply "me too." What I'm noticing about writing is I don't have anyone to interject or shut me up when I go deep. So don't be alarmed if you see shorter posts. I'm challenging myself to say more with less. After all, your time is valuable. I just want to make sure I spend it wisely.

With love and gratitude,

ping.

Know your role

Am I the only one perplexed by the current expectations of today's woman? Nowadays women are expected to work the same hours as their husbands, AND have the dinner on the table by 6. We must stay fit and exercise so our husband's eyes don't wander while making time for the cleaning, laundry and ironing. We must remember birthdays, anniversaries, doctor appointments, ballet lessons, soccer games and carpool schedules. Thankfully husbands do take out the garbage, bring in (not shop for) groceries and will lift their feet as you vacuum, but aren't the scales a tad imbalanced? Now before you start with the hate mail, I know there are exceptions...God bless such men...but these men are anomalies, statistical outliers. So for the sake of my brief time on this soapbox, they don't exist.

Whether you quote Qur'an or the Bible, gender roles have been religiously defined. Essentially men are tasked as providers, and women as responsible for the children and home. However, over time it seems that the role of the woman has expanded, while the load of the man has lessened. Let me be clear, I am an advocate for marriage, and a strong advocate for gender roles, but if understanding gender roles were so simple, the divorce rate would not be nearly 50%.

Women are tasked to be confident, assertive and competitive in the workplace, yet demure, nurturing and obedient in the home. Yes, I know...the dreaded "O" word. I'm sure that I don't speak for just myself that at first glance, this word is...unsettling. The confident, assertive, fully capable and independent woman in me screams "What do you mean by OBEY? Dogs OBEY." And I, for sure, am nobody's b#*@%. But I realize, after *mumbling inaudible number* years, I'm tired. Wait, lemme re-frame that statement. I'm ready. Ready to love. Ready to be relieved of the weight of the world. Ready to not have to make all the decisions all the time. Ready to lean vs. being leaned on. Ready learn vs. having to teach. Ready to ride in the passenger seat. Ready to listen. Ready to be lead.

So I guess that also means I'm ready to obey. But hell, if I'm going to draft a quarterback, I at least want a top draft pick! Just because he can throw and call a couple plays doesn't mean he is the best one to lead this team. I have to trust him. I have to believe in him and his leadership. I have to believe he can make me better. This is only possible when a woman feels her voice is heard. He must be kind, and so in tune with his star player that he sees you need help...even if you are too stubborn/pissed/crazy to admit it. Women all WANT to be Superwoman, but it sure is nice to see a man rip open his button up to show the S on his chest once in a while too.

Ultimately, we have be honest with ourselves and each other. We can't start to resent the opposite sex because of our varying interpretations of gender roles. Truthfully, we often times drive ourselves crazy being the "perfect girl/woman/wife" based on expectations WE have for ourselves...not because of anything men actually request. Men are simple. So when you find yourself reaching your breaking point, I suggest the following: 1) Pause for the cause. Pull out your wedding album or something to remind you why you love him and to give you a minute to fix your face. 2) Get him and yourself something to eat or drink. 3) Check for commercial break-hey, I'm trying to set you up for success. 4) Say verbatim "Hey honey, (insert time reference like "after the game" or "tomorrow") will you (insert task/chore) for me? I'm getting a little overwhelmed and it would really help me out a lot." 5) Do something obnoxiously sweet (but genuine) to say thanks. Whatever you do, don't start out with "I was thinking"...because of the male levels of testosterone these words actually cause their ears to fold inward and you will not be heard. Scientifically proven. But seriously, if you need help, just ask him. Most men will step up...because ask any divorced man, it's still cheaper to keep her. *kanye shrug*