Category Archives: MEN AIN’T SHIT

This doesn’t apply to all men, of course. There are pockets of honest, faithful, openly communicative, and trust worthy men. But, some of ya’ll Ain’t Shit!

NOBODY CAN SAY I DIDN’T TRY

A few years ago, when I was still online dating, I came across the profile of a cute Latino. His profile indicated that he lived near me and that he, like myself, enjoyed running. Once we started talking the conversation flowed like water. We spoke, consistently, for a few weeks before we decided to meet up. All seemed to be going well, but he kept giving me random reasons why he couldn’t meet me when it was convenient for me. He kept trying to get me to meet him at his house or in front of his building late at night. I made it clear to him that, if he wanted to meet me, he would have to do so at my convenience. Even though he was resistant to meeting, we continued to communicate.  

During one of our conversations, I asked him what he did for work. He told that he was a personal assistant for his cousin (whom he claimed was Jessica Caban, the longtime girlfriend of Bruno Mars). He also said that he was a part-time hairstylist. I made a comment, that I thought would end up being a light-hearted joke. In response to him saying that he was a hairstylist, I joked, and asked if he was also gay. I expected a variety of responses, equating to a no. Although he did say no, when he told me that he was a cross-dresser, I almost choked. Immediately my phone was flooded with messages from him dressed like a woman. Now, don’t get me wrong, he didn’t look half-bad; I simply wasn’t expecting that. I thought about deleting his number and blocking him, but I wondered if I was being too close-minded. There was a party of me that knew I couldn’t get with it. But there was another part of me that considered the courage that it took for him to be honest with me; and, that part didn’t want to just walk away. 

We agreed to meet up one evening and go for a walk in Central Park. He was less handsome in person, but still good looking. I don’t remember what I wore; but I remember he wore a huge multi-colored puffer jacket and NYC Marathon ASICS. —Why do I remember those details, you ask. The only reason why I remember them is because he kept mentioning them. He kept mentioning how expensive his coat and sneakers were, and how much money he had. As he tried to win me over by saying how much money he had, I kept changing the conversation to other topics. We spoke about running, him doing hair, and eventually I asked him when he started cross-dressing. He explained that on one day he just decided to try it and he liked it. He had this cockiness about him that I hated; but his honesty kept me intrigued.  

I felt like dessert, so we walked down to Pinkberry. On our walk, the conversation continued to evolve. I was semi-surprised to think that despite how things began; we were actually having a decent first date. Once inside of Pinkberry, and only because he made such a big deal on how much money he had, I was taken aback when he didn’t offer to pay for my $7 dollar dessert. —If you’ve been following my blog from the beginning, you know how I feel about men that don’t offer to pay on first dates. If a man doesn’t pay on a first date, there will not be a second. I thought to myself, for a guy donning $130+ sneakers, and a coat that he claimed was over $500, the least he could do was buy my frozen yogurt; when he did not, it was an automatic major deduction. I was ready do ditch his ass; but, unfortunately, he lived in my area, and we had to walk in the same direction. He said that he was thirsty; so, walking back uptown, we stopped into Whole Foods. He walked to the beverage station, grabbed a beverage, and asked me if I wanted anything. I said no, and I started walking towards the cash register. I was, once again, taken aback when he turned around and made his way back to the entrance. —Yes! While wearing over $600, this fool decided to steal a seltzer water from Whole Foods. I looked at him like he was bat-shit crazy. Once outside of the store I ripped into him about what he did, and he seemed to not care. I needed to change the conversation over the remaining 15 blocks, so we spoke about movies and TV shows. When he reached his building, he invited me to come up, but I eagerly declined and made my way home.  

Most women would’ve blocked his number. However, there is always (and probably will forever) be a part of me that never knows when to call it quits. I can say it in my mind, but there is always the heart. When the mind and heart align, then along comes the conscience, that convinces me to give a person one more chance. So, after our first meet & greet, where he stole and didn’t even buy me a dessert, we were still talking. A part of me found it interesting having a person that was so different in my life. So, I wasn’t quite ready to sever all ties. A week later, I was with my friends at the bar having wings, and my date came up. I went over all the details of the date and they were appalled for me. When I mentioned that he was also a cross-dresser, they thought that I was out of my mind for going on the date, in the first place. I tried to justify the reasons for us staying in contact, but in the end, I knew it had run its course.  

After a few nights, he went from being interesting and different to classic fuck-boy. One evening, he kept repeatedly asking me to come over and I told him no. He then proceeded to say that if I didn’t come over, he would call someone else to. I guess he thought my decision to talk to him was out of desperation, but I was simply trying to be open-minded. I told him he was well within his right to do what he wanted. This went on for about twenty more minutes. Growing annoyed, I told him that I would block him. When he didn’t stop, I did just that. To this day, I still wonder why I even went down that road in the first place. I knew, the moment he told me that he cross-dressed, red flags went up. After his behavior on the first date, I knew there would be no romantic future. I don’t really know what it was, but I wanted to give him a chance to see if we could at least be friends. In the end, nobody can say I didn’t try. 

My Month in Russia

MY MONTH IN RUSSIA-01

Let the record state: I am down with the swirl. So when a good looking man, of the fairer complexion, that just happened to be Russian born and American raised messaged me on Badoo, I messaged him back.

On a Monday, N_Badoo messaged me and I replied back. We exchanged greetings, professions, and spoke for a few more days then he asked to exchange numbers, and we did. We agreed to meet that Sunday afternoon. So, imagine my surprise when I stumbled home on a Friday night and he hits me up that he’s in the city and wanted to meet for drinks. I had only been home for 5 minutes, didn’t even undress yet, so I figured, sure. He met me at a near by bar, The Duck, but they only accepted cash, so we walked to the ATM together. First thing I noticed was that he did not walk beside me. He walked ahead and I had to double pace to keep up with him. He got some cash then we went back to the bar. He got a beer and I ordered a margarita and we sat on the less crowded, although not quieter since the music was unreasonably loud. He got us another round of drinks and we conversed for about 2 more hours: work, travels, hobbies, foods and drinks we liked, families etc. The conversation was light and fun then he got up and kissed me. His kiss was extremely powerful and his hands felt amazing exploring my body. That went on for about another hour, then for some reason the bouncer kept opening the door and I started to get really cold. We went back to his car and continued kissing and feeling each other up. He tried really hard to get me to go back to his place but I was not with it; since he lived all the way near Coney Island and it wasn’t even a first date. But I did let him suck on my breasts. He did it so hard that I realized when I got home the stopper to my nipple ring was missing- How the fuck?

He met me on Sunday after I left the movies with my family. He drove from Brooklyn to get me and we went back to his place. We started watching Netflix and he made us dinner. After dinner we started kissing then he went down on me, satisfied my desire, and we started having sex. At first I thought average but once inside of me, and finding his groove, he grew exponentially-WOW! He felt amazing. We did a few positions until he finished then we rest for a little bit. We went back to watching TV, (he-from his chair, me-on the bed). In between his roommate came home, I guess he wanted to hang out with him for a bit, but he shut it down by saying ‘my girlfriend is here”. Girlfriend? We did not discuss this at all- I was not ready for this title, as I was still dating other men, and I didn’t feel he was either but I didn’t know what to say at the moment so I just let it be. About a half an hour later, he got the urge again and then again. I was enamored with his insatiable nature and it had been a while since I had a partner like him so I enjoyed every minute of it. Around 10pm we got dressed for him to drive me home. On the walk to the car, yet again, he walked ahead of me and I doubled my pace to keep up with him, I was again, annoyed.

Throughout the week we spoke on and off then we made arrangements for me to visit him Friday night. He picked me up, around 2am, from a party I was at and we went back to his place, we took showers then got down to business. The oral the second time around was less then satisfactory and the intercourse was only 1 and night. I love to cuddle after sex but he sat back in his chair when we were done. It did not enjoy laying in a huge king sized bed all by myself so I eventually rolled over and tried to go to sleep, and he came to bed shortly after. In the morning we had another session and then he had to go. He had a lunch picnic to attend upstate but before then he had a dentist appointment. After he finished with his shower, I went to take mine. He seemed annoyed that I wanted to shower and rushed me along because he had to make his appointment. He dropped me off at the train, I decided I wanted food so I found a place nearby, ate, and then went home.

The next day I asked him about the picnic. He mentioned, he got drunk and started making out with some man’s wife- sloppy much?. They got into a little fight but nothing serious happened. I took this as my chance to state my opinion. Keep in mind; I was still dating other men and I didn’t want to be his girlfriend any more that I felt he would be a good boyfriend so I proposed the idea that we remain just sex. We hang out and enjoy each other’s company, but no title and no responsibility and he agreed. The next few days went by ok. We continued to speak on and off but every once in a while he would say these things exuding extreme affection that made me scratch my head. Calling me pet names, and saying I love you, like I highly doubt you actually do but I don’t want to be a bitch today, so I’ll let you live. I realized that we never actually had a planned date. Every time we saw each other he and/or I were already out and/or we just went back to his place. So I messaged him said you should take me on a date: dinner and a movie followed by a night of sweaty sex. He replied –sounds like a plan and we agreed to meet on a Saturday. I checked with him earlier that week to make sure we were still on. He asked which movie and I said lets see what’s playing when we get there- because I could pretty much go with the flow. We agreed I would meet him in Brooklyn, he’d pick me up from the train and our evening would begin.

I called him before I headed out, just to do a final check, he answered and I made my way to Brooklyn. I texted him when I was a few stops away but got no reply. I called him when I got off the train-no answer. I started to feel a ball in the pit of my stomach. It was telling me, this night would not go as planned and that I should go home. That little ball comes in handy; the only problem is I rarely ever listen to her.

I walked to his apartment, knocked on the door and no one answered, I did it again and still no answer. I felt like a fool- I started to walk out of his building when I finally heard the door open. He was visibly drunk. He and his coworkers went out the night before and he was still hammered. I knew then this wasn’t going to be good. I sat down on his chair and we talked for a bit, the topic of food came up. I was hungry and so was he so we went into the kitchen to make some ribs and chicken. The entire time he flirted with me: kissing, touching, fondling, and rubbing, it was all very flirtatious and I enjoyed it. He kept calling me sexy and beautiful, saying how he was so lucky, and asking what would our kids look like, etc. I reveled in the fantasy of it all then when the food was done we ate. Maybe it was the 4 Coors Lights, or the unknown cups of vodka, or the almost 3 packs of cigarettes he smoked but whatever it was he became a pile of drunken stupor. He was so drunk he bit through a chicken bone fell off his chair, I had to assist him to the bed, and he even threw up on himself.

All the while I’m thinking I can’t ever find a happy medium. I go from a man that doesn’t drink at all to a man that cant control any of his alcohol- this night was shaping up to be a total disaster.

I ended up watching 6 episodes of Siren on Hulu then he partially woke up. Shortly after his roommate came home and wanted to go out and find some women. So, not wanting the night to be a complete waste I agreed to go out (not that I had much of a choice- it was either out or go home, and I really wanted sex). We went to a nearby bar called Wheelers and he acted like a total dick-bag; being rude to the waitress and servers and left a horrible tip, so bad that I gave the lady $15 just for dealing with his rude ass. From there he started talking to another Russian and convinced him to go to Williamsburg with us. So we got in an Uber and were off to Huckelberry Fin bar. The bar was nice, a good crowd, many of the people just came from a wedding so his roommate would have no luck finding a single DTF woman tonight. I was getting annoyed at this point: it was 2:30am, his roommate was socially awkward as fuck, and I just really wanted to have sex to make this night not a total bust. I pulled my guy to the side to tell him I was ready to go, but he wanted to party with his friends. Seriously- you met other Russian a few hours ago and you can be with our roommate any time. But because my shit was at his house I had to suck it up and continue to deal. We went to another bar where he got super handy with some chick and I was like dude I know we’re not a couple but have some decency- don’t be a dick in front of me. So I had to shut that shit all the way down. I was having an outer body experience saying to myself; why did you not just turn around earlier? Why did you continue to walk to his house? Why did you stay? And why did you agree to come out?

We made our way to what would thankfully be the last bar of the night Union Ave Bar or something like that. We get there and the music if bumping. Finally, at least I can dance and boogey to this. I find myself finally having a good time then this ass hole says it’s too loud and wants to step out side- Seriously What the Fuck!His roommate is still having no luck getting women- like zero! They go out to smoke more cigarettes. So just a side note: when we met he said he didn’t smoke, then when I went by his house the second time, it was I smoke cigars on occasion, then I realize that when he drinks he’s a chain smoker- Fucking Disgusting. Finally his roommate was able to converse with a group of girls visiting from Atlanta with their amazing black, gay, best friend (every one needs in their life by the way). He lied that he would be able to get them “party favors” at 6am and they should come back to the apartment. I knew looking at the girl that she was not going to give him anything but whatever this night was already a bust and they seemed like fun; so in the very least we could have a few laughs.  We all piled into an Uber SUV and head out. The driver takes the long route and of course my guy starts acting like a dick yet again. The white girl in the front from Atlanta is lit on trap music and we all make a request for something more ‘white’. Cue- Backstreet Boys, Britney Spears, and The Spice Girls- all resulted in an awesome cab ride home. Naturally my guy attempted to complain about our music choice and singing, at which point- I gave zero fucks. I left all my fucks on the dance floor after he made it perfectly clear that getting drunk with his friends was more important than spending time me. Back at the apartment I offered them the ribs and chicken and I got rave reviews for my cooking. We drank and had a few laughs. They tried to call their connect for party favors but at 6am he was asleep. The group left about an hour later and when I turned around my guy was lying across the bed tapped out. His friend never did get any sex because the girl had zero interest in him, wise woman she was. I left the roommate and other Russia in the kitchen and went to bed. I was on fire with anger, disappointment, and just the feeling of stupidity. Thinking another one I have to add to the list. It was very unfortunate, especially since when I made comments to him about him walking ahead of me and not cuddling he actually made those changes-so I saw potential. But the behavior he showed that night was unacceptable.

I slept for almost 2 hours then I had to go to the bathroom. He woke up for a few minutes after I did then went back to sleep. Then the coughing started (the coughing that was actually him throwing up); at that point I said Nope!I went into the bathroom, took a shower, threw on my clothes, and left the apartment. I have no intentions to reach out to him in the future. Next time I will listen to my little ball.                                                                                                                     

GO FUCK YOURSELF!

People often get extremely pissed off when someone says this. This phrase often follows an argument or an angry exchange of words; finally, when either person refuses to argue anymore, they yell “Go Fuck yourself!” 

Anybody that knows me, knows that even though I’m one of the sweetest people you may ever meet, I can also be the most sophisticated asshole. Years of therapy and soul searching has taught me that, people can be very fucked up. People can have insanely horrible days, and here I come with my smile, making a mockery of their misery. Their only option to protect them from feeling even more miserable about their life, in my presence; is to try and fuck with me.  

A lot of research says that sex is one of the most powerful transferences of energy; hence why you’re only supposed to have sex with people you like; I, Thank God! do not fall into this category. Maybe I have an invisible-sexual-emotional-shield, that allows me to have amazing sex with a person I can’t stand and walk away energized and ready to tackle the world. On the other hand, non-intimate interactions have the ability to turn this happy camper into a raging bitch, that can easily empty out my pockets, and throw away all the fucks I ever gave.  

I had an incident last month, on a bus with my friend (Hey Girl!). Some ass hole guy (Chinese), disrespectfully approached me about a seat on a bus; where there were more than enough empty seats around for him to select another; but because my feet were on the chair – he was determined to cause a scene. On top of his overly aggressive tone, he proceeded to disrespect my upbringing and education; when his original argument was about me “paying for one seat” (stick to one argument buddy!). Then back-up Billy decided to chime in and add more fuel to the fire. By this time the bus is getting crowded and we’re all arguing on the bus. China man wanted to flex his muscles and “call the cops” For what? Mind you, he spoke to me (when he didn’t have to). He proceeded to sit in my face and degrade me; now he felt it necessary to call his cop friend and have the bus stopped. His friend was unavailable, so nothing happened. But let’s play this out:  

Officer: What’s going on here 

Me: Well officer, this guy disrespectfully yelled at me to move my feet (which as you can see, I already did as he is seated directly in front of me) Not to mention, when there were 6 available seats all around that would’ve avoided the entire argument. After he sat down, he proceeded to degrade me, and then threaten me by calling you. So, in conclusion officer, this man intentionally instigated a problem and is threatening my safety, and is also disturbing the peace on this bus. I would like to have him removed from the bus so that I and the other passengers may ride in peace.  

But, Like I said though, his cop friend was *busy and nothing happened.  

Back-up Billy wouldn’t let shit rest, though. He kept making light of the situation, as if my feet on a seat on a NYC bus, warranted him to talk to me however he wanted. And then he did the ultimate. He said “I thought because he was Asian, he wasn’t going to stand up for himself” to which everyone who heard the argument called BULLSHIT to. Race was the last thing on my mind. I didn’t care who or what he was, I simply didn’t appreciate his tone (PERIOD).  

Eventually shit died down, the Chinese man gets off the bus and the rest of the ride is quiet. When back-up Billy gets off the bus he says “Have a good evening” (Mother-fucker! You know you ain’t genuine!) So, my response was “Have the night you deserve.” I must’ve struck a nerve because he made a comment that I couldn’t hear over the laughter of the other riders.  

I mention this story because, this altercation really fucked up my energy, for a few days. I thought about how I looked to those getting on the bus, that didn’t know he was the aggressor (Crazy Black Woman). I thought about how peaceful the ride would’ve been if he had just sat on the other seat or spoke to me in a non-aggressive tone. I thought about what would’ve happened if the officer was available and all he saw was a CBW (there goes my 0 run-in with the police). I even thought, if I didn’t have my feet on the chair. 

But what didn’t cross my mind until I got home was; what was so fucked during his day, or in his life that, that’s the kind of behavior you exhibit. What person, (that looked like me) hurt you so bad that you decided to fuck with me- of all people? Then it all made sense. He was holding onto some bad energy the way a runner holds a fart during a marathon. When he got on that bus, he couldn’t hold it any more. It wasn’t enough to release it either; he had to transfer it… and unfortunately- It worked. 

I worked so well that I didn’t even masturbate when I got home, because I couldn’t focus on pleasure with such heat in my veins. By the end of the week, thankfully, I was back to normal; orgasms at night, exercise, and laughs during the day.  

One afternoon, I happened to be walking down the street and I heard a woman arguing on the phone and she yelled “Go Fuck Yourself!” I couldn’t help but think my response would be “Later tonight!” Think about it. Next time someone tells you to go fuck yourself, instead of arguing say “Thank you, I will when I get home” OR “Thanks for reminding me”. It will either enrage them or make them laugh, but what it won’t do Is fuck up your energy.  

DO YOU BELIEVE IN LOVE?

People often have a difficult time understand the dynamics of a poly lifestyle choice. I don’t have all the answers; but, I attempt to break down what polyamory means for me.

I was, not so recently, asked if I still believed in love. I was asked, over drinks, by the man that was the main character in my I Blamed You story. It seemed to him, that with all my ups and downs that I had given up on the idea of love. This made me think… Did I actually give up on love? I knew I still desired a form of romantic love in my life; but, with all my ups and downs, felt it would never happen.  

Four years ago, I broke up with my last ex. I needed time to re-find myself; and fall back in love with who I was. I discovered all the things that made me happy. I re-bonded with my friends, my family, and eventually I started dating again. Dating kind of went like this: ghost, ghost, dick-pic; ghost, ghost, married man looking to cheat on his wife; ghost, pen-pal, bad sex; catfish, ghost, then good fling turned ghost; fuck-buddy, ghost, scam.  

During my pursuit to find “THE ONE” all I found was; much time wasted, half-ass conversations, and lots of hurt emotions. Then I asked myself; What was the driving force being my serial-dating? The answer was; I had set up a highly unrealistic timeline for love, based on the dreaded. biological clock. I wanted to be in a relationship by 32, engaged by 33, married by 34, and right when my birth control was done, at 35- Surprise! We’re pregnant! That was the plan. That fucked up plan had me ferociously swiping left and right, and going on date after date, until I was blue in the face and my fingers were numb.  

Why did I want a relationship so bad? Why did it matter so much to me, for me to be chosen by another? Was I not enough? I looked back at all of my former relationships where I was chosen, yet never truly happy. I used to be a serial-monogamist (relationship after relationship) and none of them ever fully satisfied me; maybe what I needed was time to explore. If I was being honest with myself, I was, only, happy about 60-70% of my relationships; the other time, I was Miserable, with capital “M”. There was always something that was missing. On the opposite end, there was always something that I was unable to give, and that in return made me feel less than. I never met a man that shared my hobbies and desires, and I never met a man I could really be myself with. For the better part of all my relationships I tried to fit into this perfect little image of what he wanted me to be. I tried being his everything and looking back- I hated it! 

I had always known that alternative love-sytles existed, I was simply hesitant to seek them out. So, tired with doing what, I was supposed to do, I decided to try and do what I wanted.  

I took it slow at first (or not- depending on who you ask); I claimed my position on non-monogamy, polyamory, and bisexual. I met M_Tinder, and shortly after I met R_Tinder. The connections I had with each man was dynamic in its own right. I was openly dating both men, they knew of each other, and jealousy wasn’t a factor. My conversations with M were light hearted, while my conversations with R were more dynamic. The yin and yang of the two fed my mind, but the direct consistent human connection was slightly missing. As I still craved human contact, some weeks it wasn’t enough. So, I thought; what would happen if I sought one more person of interest.  

It just so happened that, over the past few weeks, my romantic interests have doubled. With romantic walks, deep conversations, passionate kisses, amazing sex, and constant communication; I’m content with my current lifestyle choice. I don’t feel pulled in 15 different directions, like I thought I would, and I am able to take the time that I do have and spend it with the ones I choose. 

For the first time, in a very long time, (I can’t reiterate it enough) I am unapologetically, happily! 

With the variety of special people in my life; I can be: romantic, caring, funny, playful, serious, woke, witty, a princess and open. I can also be: a sex-goddess, submissive, an exhibitionist, and a total freak (You know, that one you wouldn’t bring home to meet your mother). 

I wasn’t able to answer the question then; but I can answer it now. I do believe in love. I just don’t believe in monogamous love for me (at least for the foreseeable future).  

That’s not to say I may never grow tired of this lifestyle. Who knows, maybe 4 years from now I’ll meet someone that will make me want to give it all up. We’d get married, I’d pop out a few babies, and we’d ride happily into the sunset. Sitting on the front porch, sipping lemonade in our rocking chairs, watching our grandchildren play; I’ll reflect back on this time in my life with a warm heart. 

Or, I’ll remain in this lifestyle and continue to build beautiful meaningful, long-lasting connections with my partners. We’d attend each other’s weddings, and create unions of our own design. A blended host of families like no one has ever seen. We’d stake out real estate and build a community around our love, so our children would grow up knowing that love comes in many forms. We’d be together on holidays, birthdays, and graduations. We’d be there for each other as we grow old and no one would die alone; because we’d have an abundance of love between us all. 

I’m not sure what the future will look like, as I’m happy taking this one day at a time. The loves that I am experiencing are not, by any means, traditional; but they are the identity of love that I not only need but am also able to give.  

WHO I AM.

Being diagnosed with herpes, while on my road to peace; I forced myself to define (for me and only me) Who I am.

I am Carolyn. I am a black woman, of African American descent. I am 32 years old and my zodiac sign is a Gemini. I am an athlete: I exercise regularly, I run marathons, and I’ll be doing my first triathlon next month. I am an artist: I sing, dance, design, sew, I paint, and do computer graphics. I am a daughter, sister, niece, cousin, aunt, sister-in-law, etc. I am a great worker, listener, advice giver, and fantastic friend. I am a foodie and I am a person that enjoys delicious cocktails. I am friendly, bubbly, sarcastic at times, serious and/or uplifting when I know that it’s necessary. I am a critical and tactical thinker, and I am an avid planner. I am a free-spirit; that loves positive good energy. I am a lover of consensual love (in any form). I am sex positive, body positive, non-monogamous, polyamorous, and bi-sexual human being. Oh! I also have herpes.  

You see that? I have herpes, but it is not who I am. 

Anyone who knows me, knows all the above; and until I decided to go public with my status, very few people knew that I had herpes. But, if they were asked to describe me, you’d get a mix of: she’s funny, she’s friendly, she’s bubbly, she’s a freak, and she likes to party. Never would you hear, “Carolyn is herpes”. 

For a long time, I was afraid to speak out about my status, for fear of what people would think and, of course, the dreaded STIGMA. The stigma that says ‘only people like this get herpes, or no one will want you if you have herpes, or people with herpes should just crawl under a rock and die’- yes there are people who say such thingsFor the most part; I always understood that herpes is something that I have; it is NOT who I am. However, it took me a few years to finally believe that to be true and to live in that reality.  

So, I write this post, with the hopes that it will reach the people that need it most. For those battling with self-love after their diagnosis, for those that feel ‘dirty’ or worthless, and for those that feel they will never find love or have casual sex again. I write this to tell you that: you are not dirty, you are still worthy of love, you will find love, and with the right person you may even find good casual sex again. The trick is, to do the self-work! 

When I was younger, I used to cut myself. Never deep, never a lot of blood, and never to kill myself; I only cut to feel and have control. I started having sex at 14, and at that age my mind didn’t process, what we now call, fuck-boy behavior. You know, when men tell you what you want to hear just to get the pussy. At that age, my mind thought that, if he’s having sex with me- he must really like me (silly rabbit!). Anyway, after countless lust-filled heartbreaks I yearned to have some control. I found that control in the form of cutting. When my mother read my diary and found out, she thought I was cutting school; (since black kids don’t cut their body). When she found out the truth, she did what she had to do; and put me in counseling. For this act (in addition to giving me life) I am forever grateful. My counselor (Ms. Antoinette Rodriguez) was a much-needed saving grace. She helped me from 14 all the way through high-school. She helped me navigate my feelings and establish my self-worth. She encouraged me to be the artist and positive spirit I was born to be. She helped me to know that other peoples’ opinions of me didn’t define me. She helped me to find and love me. After I left the program I would stop by and visit her. Then, one day, due to budget cuts the program was closed. I was sad but very pleased with what she had done for me.  

Fast forward a few years and toss in a herpes diagnosis, and a string of failed monogamous relationships, and I became a lost soul again. I didn’t go all the way back to square one, but I did question and doubt my identity. After my diagnosis; I was this girl who loved sex and was fantastic at it- now, who was I? Would anyone ever want me again? Who’s going to want a girl with herpes? Would I end up alone?  

Too scared to go out into the world I sat on the sidelines. I kept my diagnosis quiet until I got serious and then I would tell my partners, and to my surprise, they all stayed with me. The only problem with that was, Me.  

For all the boyfriends I had, post herpes, I was never fully happy. I always wanted something more; but, because of herpes and the fear of being alone, I stayed. This mentality though, isn’t just a herpes thing. Think of how many people stay in abusive relationships, or keep taking back cheaters, or stay for financial security. Staying for comfort isn’t uncommon; but leaving for peace of mind is necessary.  

It was after my billionth crying series with my (X-Files series) Fuck-boy of an ex where I finally said. “I refuse to be in a bad relationship & have herpes”. Since I can’t get rid of herpes, I had to get rid of the guy. 

The first step was to separate my sex from my identity. I was always this amazing human with great energy, but my fear of rejection caused me to be less than amazing. The next step was to take the time to complete me. You know the people that hop from relationship to relationship because they feel incomplete when single- we all do. I had to take the time to find the things that make me happy and whole, regardless if a man was in my life or not. That’s where exercise, marathons, and writing came in. I connected back with the people that I know would always be there for me; my family and friends. Once I became my 100% I only wanted to surround myself with people that would fill my cup over; not take from me to make them whole. I reconnected with my sexuality. I love sex, I always have loved sex. However, this time around, sex was a bonus not the grand prize. The grand prize is me: my energy, my advice, and my friendship.  

Lastly, I took the moment to reclaim my sex-positive space. With this abundance of love and positive energy flowing through me and believing that monogamy may not be for me; I decided to dip my toe in the world of polyamory and non-monogamy. In doing so, I’ve been making the best connections, getting the best advice, honestly communicating with everyone in my life and, of course, having some of the best sex I’ve had in years. There’s a connection with my partners (sexual and non-sexual) that was missing before. Living in polyamory, I’m taking the time to build foundations that were often skipped over before. The openness in communicating and the ability to express my desires, with no fear of being judged is also very refreshing. 

Sure, from time to time, there are some rejections (which is fine). I know that not everyone will want to take the risk, but having those moments to educate potential partners/friends/acquaintances on how to remain herpes free, after they are no longer romantically interested in me, still feels good. I am aware that when I disclose and they are no longer interested, it only means they are declining herpes and not me; because, herpes is only what I have. It is not, who I am. 

FINDING THE SILVER LINING

For the first time, in a long time, I can finally say that; I am truly happy. I have family and friends that I love, I have a job that I like, and I’ve learned to appreciate and look at life- glass half full. I’ve learned to not stress over the things I can’t control and to always realize, no matter how bad things may get, they could always get worse.  

This past summer, I was robbed. No- I wasn’t knocked upside my head. I was a victim of opportunity because the perpetrator got to my heart. Yes- I was scammed. Timing had everything to do with how things happened; so, allow me to fill you in on the details.  

It was after my vacation in Florida. I was on a Disney-Sugar high and when I returned; I was feeling great. The following week, I experienced the worst racially-fueled disrespect I had ever received (What Lies Beneath) 

The week after that, I started speaking to Scammer. He seemed like a breath of fresh air to all the other ass-hats I had encounter over the past 3 years. He called me every morning, lunch, night, we spoke for hours and I just knew that this was going to work. I was on cloud nine! Could it be that my luck was finally changing? Would I, finally, be done with all the bullshits? Boy I hoped so.  

We agreed to meet a week later on Saturday, after he finished work. I had purchased tickets to the, On The Run 2 Tour, when I returned from Disney. I had tickets for the Friday night show which was a blessing since Thursday night’s show was delayed hours. There was a forecast of rain for Friday night’s show, but, to my excitement the weather what totally clear. The show was fantastic and I had a blast. All in all, this month seemed to be looking up. Disney, The Carters, and the following day I was going to finally meet the man that had virtually pulled at my heart strings. My luck was changing- Finally. 

Now, before you proceed- you have to understand that, I am in all actuality, very smart. However, the details that are to follow would prove just how dumb one can be, when it comes to matters of the heart.  

I was to meet him, at his job. His bank was running a promotion at the time (You open an account with X much money and we’ll give you this much as a voucher). My account was a bit short of the desired amount so he was going to add to the total. He’d get his new account bonus, I’d get my voucher, and we’d be out- No harm no foul. When I got uptown, he was busy and couldn’t step out, so he sent his co-worker to meet me. She came out, uniform on, so it didn’t cause for alarm. She was supposed to go in and process the transaction and then I would enter as if the account was whole and everything was going to be fine. Until it wasn’t. I was on the phone with him, while he was “processing the transaction”. As I’m on the phone with him, he asks me where do I want to go to eat, and it wasn’t until the mentioned a plethora of hood-spots that I started to realize I had made a huge mistake. Isn’t that crazy- that food made my alarms go off.  I checked my account via my phone app and I saw no bad activity, then once I refreshed what was once $2880 was now $1.86. “You robbed me” were the only words that I could muster. I stormed into the bank, explained that I was robbed, called my bank; but in the end it was too late.  

I walked home with blood-shot, swollen eyes and an empty heart. I didn’t want them to know how dumb I had been; so, I told my family I was stood up. The next morning, I woke up hoping it was a dream, but it wasn’t. It had happened and there was nothing I could do. I had allowed my infatuation with the possibility of love to cloud my judgement. During that time, I pushed away all logic and reason; because I wanted to believe that he was the real deal. And all I found out was that he was a really-really good scammer. If I had been robbed the conventional way, it would’ve hurt less. But because he played with my mind and heart, it was a billion times worse. I guess you’re probably wondering- Where is the silver lining? And here it is.  

Like I stated earlier, I have a way of looking at things glass half-full or; that they could always be worse. I once worked in a bank as a teller. A customer came in with a fraudulent check and I, unfortunately, cashed it; for that I was fired. Although I was sad that I was fired, I realized I had no “real” responsibilities. I didn’t pay rent, I had no kids, and unemployment could easily cover the bills I did have. So, even though I was pissed, I was in a much better place than any of the other employees it could’ve happened to. There was another time; I worked in a restaurant, and I was fired. The silver lining there was being fired pushed to me put my degree to use. I would’ve grown comfortable at that job, had they not fired me. So, it was, yet another, blessing in disguise.  

I connected with this person via Plenty of Fish. This was also around the time that guy was arrested for raping and murdering women he met online; from you guessed it… Plenty of Fish. Who knows what might have happened if he was a murder/rapist, or human-trafficker, instead of a scammer? So-what! I was robbed; but, I’m alive! I know there are many women that go on dates and are never seen again- I count myself lucky. Consider it happened later in life; if I lived alone, had a car, kids? What if it was $30K instead of $3K? I can bounce back from $3K, but $30K – not so much.  

The situation I went through caused me to be wiser the next time someone seemed too good to be true. When I joined FetLife (a site for like-minded kinky people and the occasion pay for play exchange) I was approached my hundreds of men claiming to be “sugar daddies” – this time, I knew better, because of what I experienced. Eventually, after almost 8 months, I did get my money back, so I’m happy about that. But let it my experience be a lesson; when someone seems too good to be true, they probably are..

The Ex Files_Part 5: Definition of Insanity

X-FILES_INSANITY HEADER_PT5-01

Early-Mid December: 

Remember, he had offered to get Motown tickets for us in July. I want to say in early November he gave me a call one night to ask my availability. I told him a date and he said he was buying the tickets. Between then and the day of the show we had another falling out about his birthday. His birthday fell around Thanksgiving; even though we were not on the best page, I wanted to make a nice gesture. I offered to take him to dinner and I told him to pick a date. His son would be up for the holiday but I figured that we could go out one night and the other night he could have dinner with his family. Long story short he said no to both and our communication dropped, once again. So, with hazy communication when the day of the show came around, I texted him to confirm the time we were meeting up, to which he replied he never bought the tickets. We didn’t speak for a week or two after that.  

Christmas came and went, we were barely on speaking terms yet neither of us declared the relationship over.  

In January, he asks me over because he wants to talk. In my mind we were 98% over but since the words were not spoken, we were still, technically, together. Earlier that week I had saw a good breakfast spot in his area so I agreed to meet him. I got my breakfast then he picked me up and went to his place. I was tired of giving him room to decide what he wanted. I came with a clear and defined agenda. This is where I first established my non-negotiables.  

Non-negotiables are my realistic approach to what will maintain my level of happiness in each specific relationship. We all know that we may not get 100% of what we want in a relationship so you consider what you can and cannot tolerate.  

1- I wanted, at least, 1 romantic date a month. A date of my choosing; where I wanted to go and/or what I wanted to do.  

2- I wanted daily communication. A phone call and/or a text that actually showed he was engaging.  

3- I wanted one weekend a month of just he and I together. I got tired of only seeing him weeknights. Hauling my ass to Glendale after work, barely bonding, then leaving early for work in the morning was not my idea of a good relationship.  

4- And lastly, I wanted a key. In the mornings he would leave me in the apartment and go to work. This was also around the time that I started training for the marathon. I was following a running plan and the inability to come and go for a run on the mornings I stayed over, took a toll on my training. If I had a key I could go for a run, come back to shower and get ready for work.  

After our discussion he did make improvements. 1 and 2 seemed to be gaining traction so I figured this could work. Then came the straw that broke the camel’s back.  

In January we were on a better page, and in February we had seen each other her early in the month. I texted him one day to ask what the plans for Valentine’s day would be (Remember: Valentine’s Day was the original crack in the delicate vase that was our relationship). He told me he had bought tickets for him and his son to go to All Star that weekend; and that was all I needed to hear to know that this relationship was OVER. I replied; “I can’t do this anymore. We are done.”  

Allow me to break down, as to why this instance was the final deal breaker.  

For months this man had strung me along with agreed dates that he never followed through on. However, you pop up and purchase these tickets on a whim, knowing all that you did over the past year. Over and over again I made excuses for him. We would have dates planned, and my family and friends would reach out to me to hang out with them and I would say no because my man and I were going to be together. Imagine my heartache when he would cancel over and over again, I would be left home alone. I gave him ample opportunities to right his wrongs and he never did. A date, some flowers, chocolates, meeting my friends, my family nothing ever happened. I would suggest fun activities for us to do, in his neighborhood and he would turn them down all the time. The day of the non-negotiables talk he made a comment that aided in my final decision. He said “I remember things that I want to do. If I don’t want to do it- I don’t care to remember.” The light finally came on in the dark cave that was my brain. I finally saw him for who he truly was. Selfish and a term we now call a Fuckboy! 

When he told me that he got those tickets for him and his son, I knew then that whatever I wanted would never be a priority to him. He would never buy me flowers because he didn’t want to. He would never buy me chocolates and take me out for Valentine’s Day because he didn’t want to. He would never meet my family or friends because he didn’t want to. He would continue to offer and say he would do things for me and with me, fully knowing that he was lying to my face, all because he didn’t want to. Finally, I saw him for who he really was and I knew I couldn’t deal with it anymore. I knew I deserved better and I was not going to get it with him. 

We spoke when I got a new job and he congratulated me. Maybe a year later we met up for lunch and we caught up with casual conversation. Occasionally he’ll still reach out to me and imply we should see each other and try to get back together. And I’ll be honest; after dealing with all my online dating fiascos over the past three years, sometimes I’m tempted to consider going back to him. Then I remember all the emotional emptiness I felt. I remember the few times good times that I hold on to were often connected by much sadness.  

I saw an episode of Steve Harvey and there was a couple and the husband said something that made so much sense. He said; we are all different people we all may want love but we want it differently. When you enter a relationship, you have to learn how to love your partner the way they want to be loved. We have to learn to accept that what worked for the last partner may not work for the next one.  

Example: Your last partner may love affection and company; spending time and hanging out may be more than enough to keep them happy. But if your next partner prefers gifts and communication, you’ll have to learn to adjust to loving them in that way. Every pair will be different, but you have to put in the work to find out and maintain the level of happiness. 

My answer was and will forever be no to getting back with him. He was too set in his ways and unwilling to love me in the way I wanted and needed to be loved. He expected me to be content with what made him happy and that would never work for me. The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and expecting a different result; and, for once, I was finally sane.