Tag Archives: dating

18 – No Car

27 Jun

I was lured back onto Match.com after a succession of sleepless nights, sexless days, and a yearning to never end up like the spinster who teaches in the room next door to mine.  I set up a new profile with new and improved pictures.  I found a discount code online (because I refused to pay full-price) and gave myself one month.

Within the first couple of days, I received an email from an adorable, late twenties-something young man.  He started off his communication by telling me how gorgeous I am (compliments will get him everywhere) and then by telling me how he has a job, but no car. Immediately, I placed him in the “Good Time Charlie” (read: SEX) box.  My philosophy is that if I can go out into the world and provide, for myself, all of the material things I need to make life work…then why shouldn’t I expect the same from my partner?

So “Good Time Charlie” it is for Mr. No Car!

We made it through all of the emails, and eventually graduated to texts and phone calls.  After corresponding with him enough times, I realized that he is an intelligent guy.  I wanted to meet him…and I hinted at it…then blatantly asked him out.  Although I would have had to pick him up, it didn’t bother me.  Well…he didn’t seem enthused with the prospect of leaving his apartment.

The way we finally met face-to-face was all my doing…I asked him if it would okay if I stopped by his place and said hello.  I told him that I didn’t want to come inside his apartment, and that he could just come down to my car and we could talk outside.  He was cool with that.

What I saw was a super-skinny guy who smelled of a cigarette/marijuana mix, couldn’t be bothered to lotion his ashy-ass skin, and had neighbors with way too many children and vicious Pit Bulls.



17 – They Have Options

21 Oct


Today, my co-workers called me and told me to meet them at this sushi restaurant they frequent.  I thought it was a GREAT idea after the long day of NOTHING that I had accomplished!  LOL!  As soon as I walked in, I noticed the hot guy sitting at the table with my friends…but my girlfriends dance to their own beat…so I knew if I asked directly, “Who’s the hotness sitting at the table,” I would not receive a straight-forward answer.

So I start telling them about how, on my way over, I was pulled over by a cop whose main objective was heavy flirtation.  The cop was cute, smart, and extremely sarcastic-funny…I totally would have given him my number had he asked.  Although now, in hindsight, I’m realizing I probably should have given him mine!  My girls were laughing at the story, and Mystery Hottie smiled as well.  Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore.

Me (to Hottie): Who are you?

Hottie: I’m Damon.

Me (to girls): Did he come with you guys?

Girls: No…we just made him sit with us.

Damon (laughingly): I was hijacked.

Me: Wow! Interesting!

Damon (to me): You know, you are absolutely beautiful! They didn’t tell me that!

I blushed profusely.  It has been a long time since a man has told me that…so straightforwardly.  I, of course, said “Thank you.”  I also assumed that his comment meant that he would possibly ask me for my phone number before departing.  We were sitting across from one another, so I asked a few questions…the obligatory Where are you from? How long have you lived here? Family?…blahblahblah…

When he left, he did not ask for my number…and, boy, was I disappointed!  I couldn’t figure it out.  My girlfriends said that I should have asked to hold his phone, and then typed my number in the phone…She’s says that always works for her.  I guess I’m going to have to abandon my old fashioned views about If he’s interested then he will let you know, and become more aggressive…?

Our waiter, who was re-named “James” by one of my girlfriends, engaged us in conversation after Hottie left (the restaurant was slow and my friends were harassing/flirting with him).  James is 30, a college graduate, no kids, a girlfriend, and has aspirations of opening his own recording studio.  I asked James, “Why do you think Hottie didn’t ask me for my number?”

James’ response:

“In this city, successful black men are in high demand.  A man who dresses well, has his own place to live, transportation, job, etc. is highly sought after…and he knows it.  Here, men have options.  Men don’t have to get the number of a “pretty girl” just because she seems to want him to have it, because here, a pretty girl is a dime a dozen. I noticed his body language toward you, and I could see that he was attracted to you…but you never know what other options he had for the evening.”

“By noon, I may have had three offers from three different women, for sex.  I used to date doctors and lawyers because they were attracted to me because of my credentials on paper.  I chose the girl I’m with now, over the doctors and lawyers, because she liked me for me…and also because I was READY and WANTED to stop fucking around and be with ONE person.  It’s all about where we are in our lives when you women meet us.”

Kismet!  A perfect stranger professed what I expected, without even knowing what I have always thought about the state of African-American male/female relationships.  I say African-American male/female relationships because I can’t speak for other races/ethnicities.  What I can say is, that as an African-American female, finding a mate with the same credentials I bring to the table is extremely difficult.  More Black males are incarcerated than in universities.  Less Black males finish college than Black females…I teach high school…I know what I’m talking about.  And no, I’m not opposed to dating outside my race…it’s just that the opportunity hasn’t presented itself.

So…folks…how is it where you live?  Do men have all the options in your city as well?

16 – Allow Me to Dig Deep within my Bag O’ Bullshit…

18 Oct

BS bag

Today’s bag o’ bullshit is filled with the degrading tales men tell!

It’s degrading to perpetually text a man, asking him to come over and have sex, and he makes excuses like “I’m at the recording studio”[1] or “I’m just getting your text.  I was sleeping.  On my way to work now.”[2] And it’s even more disconcerting when you confront said fucktard by telling him that you “get it,” and you can see he was only in it for a one-timer…and he replies with “That’s not it at all!  I never got your texts because I was sleeping.”  WTF?  Why can’t men just be honest when you bring the honesty to them first?  FUCKIN A!

It’s degrading for an old time flame of nine years ago, to find you on Facbook, call you and say “We should get together for drinks sometime!”  Then, he calls…two weeks later…on a Friday night…at 6:30pm.  After-thought much?  Yeah…I didn’t answer that.  I texted him today (Sunday) with something light like “That’s what’s wrong with people today!  They call and don’t leave messages!  LOL!”  He responds with, “I figured if you wanted to talk to me you would.”  I told him that I was out when he called.  He said, “I just wanted to see if you wanted to have a drink that day…you know I will keep showing you love.”  UGH!  Annoying!  Annoying for these reasons (1) I am not important enough to PLAN an outing with, (2) He didn’t leave a fucking message, (3) He could have made plans with me when I texted him today…I am an obvious after-thought.  Why bother?!  Newsflash buddy…you’re not cute enough to do shit like that AND you’re dick ain’t big enough for you to call spur of the moment! …I know it didn’t grow any bigger over the past eight years!!!!

It’s also degrading to have your lover/FWB of three years ask you to (1) drive him to the airport so he can go on a cruise with another woman, (2) allow him to leave his work car at your place while he’s away on said cruise, (3) go to his place and check on his two cats because they get lonely, (4) to text you that he’s back in town but not come collect all the shit he’s left at your place because some woman has driven back with him from Miami and he doesn’t want the two of you to meet,[3] and (5) him giving you a “Thank you” card for “being such a great FRIEND!”  LOL!  So, I guess the writing is on the wall…and in the card…whatever we were, ain’t no more!

Okay…I’m done for now; Too much bullshit for one sitting.  All this talk of degradation has depressed me!  I need to shop.

[1] LOL! Dude…you’re not Jay-Z! Or anyone else who’s remotely famous!

[2] Knowing he probably didn’t have to work at all that day.

[3] I’m speculating on this last one…but I’m probably correct.

15 – A Woman Doesn’t Have to Beg

16 Oct

I’m tired of men telling me A Woman Doesn’t Have to Beg.[1] That’s BULLSHIT!  I’ve been looking and I’ve been begging…and I’ve been dickless!  I’m just as equally tired of men telling me that the woman has control over when sex is had.  I believe that theory to hold partial truth…then the rest of it is just unadulterated BULLSHIT!  Here’s the way I live it…men wait for us to allow them to have sex with us the FIRST time around, and then after that…you’re a begging fool!

Women may decide when the initial occurrence of sex transpires, but men are in control of how often she gets it and IF a relationship develops.

I know that many people will disagree with me, but I am only speaking from my reality and the reality of my friends.  Some of you may even go as far to say…if all of your friends are like the one described in Don’t Go Home With a Black Girl, then no wonder.  Sure…some of you may say that…but it’s really not that simple.

I have attempted the male/female situation from all angles.  I have been the one he really wants but can’t have, the one who really wants him but can’t have him, the savior, the saved, the faithful girlfriend, the abused girlfriend, the kinky girlfriend, the compliant girlfriend, the defiant girlfriend, the one who walked in on him while he was cheating…I’ve been it all.  Now, I’m tired.  Now, all I want is a little affection from time to time…no strings attached.  I have high blood pressure…I can’t deal with the stress that the strings attached part brings.

Many of my girlfriends are confused about what it is I say I want from a man, or they just don’t believe me.  First of all, if I am going to truly consider him as a keeper…as my equal…then he’s got to have the following:

v  A career (i.e. salaried, medical, 401K, etc.)

v  Minimum of a Bachelors degree (I have a Masters and will soon have a PhD)

v  His own transportation (i.e. working vehicle)

v  His own place to live

v  Proper money management skills

v  Personal goals

v  Professional goals

v  SINGLE!!!

I have listed things that I have.  I am not expecting him to do or be anyone that I am not already.  Believe it or not, all that I’ve listed above is difficult to find in ONE man.  And I have no problem keeping it real…I am a woman with physical needs.  So, if I encounter a man who has one or two of those things…or NONE of those things…I weigh HOW he can be used.  It’s kinda like how you cut off the moldy part of the bread and throw it out, instead of throwing out the entire loaf!  LOL!  If I see that he may be utilized in the “physical pleasures” department, then I throw him in that box…but he NEVER comes out of that box…EVER!  It’s like feeding a Gizmo after midnight…bad…very bad!

And now these Gizmo ass n*&&#s are acting a fool!  Making me beg?  Making me go through hoops?  The temerity!  What is this world coming to?  I want to know why a woman, who isn’t asking for commitment, still has to beg!

[1] And I’m talking about sex…just in case you were confused!  I’m a one-track-mind! LOL!

11 – More Match Madness…But Nothin’ a Little Shag Can’t Cure!

7 Jul

shag notice

So, after my “eventful” date with Mr. MBA…I decide to venture off on a night of tried-and-true fun.  I called Kenneth and asked him if he had already seen Transformers.  Seeing as how it was only released twelve hours before I asked him, I figured that some other bimbo had not beaten me to the punch.  So my Thursday evening was spent in high contrast to my Wednesday evening…laughing, joking, eating, drinking, shagging.[1]

In fact, that was the night of MJ’s death, and Kenneth and I had a talk about loneliness and how much it sucks.  He even mentioned being ready to “settle down” soon.  I found that statement hilarious…seeing as how he was sitting there, with me…and not with whomever he deems “settling down” material.  Although, knowing him, she’s somewhere close by.  See, Kenneth and I have been doing this “thing” for about three years now.  Last October, his “roommate” (read: GIRLFRIEND of twelve years) died suddenly[2], and I was momentarily rendered retarded by the event.  He leaned on me for emotional consolation[3], and I thought, for the blink of an eye…that he would choose me.

I’m over that now.  I know better.[4]

So, I was recovering from my Match Madness and beginning to embark upon another journey…down the road to perdition!  LOL!  A new guy contacted me.  He looked mama’s boy/latent gay/church boy on his profile.  I thought that that could be what I needed…someone to anchor my free-spirited waywardness.  The Latent Gay called me every day, and sometimes even TWICE a day.  He often texted me while he was at work.  We shared our hopes and dreams, while eagerly anticipating the climactic moment of our physical meeting.

I was nervous because Latent gay had not posted any full body shots of himself…nor did he offer.  I did not have any full body shots of myself, however, I did ask Latent Gay if he wanted me to email a full body to him.  He said that he didn’t care about all of that.  He said the most important thing was our ability to communicate.  I was beginning to like him more each day.

So…”D-Day,” we met at a central place in the city.  He had to drive an hour and a half to reach the city, but he said he didn’t mind.  He said he was always in the city.  He even hinted at picking me up, but I told him that coming to my place would add another thirty minutes to his drive.[5] He put the activities of the evening in my hands, and I chose a place where several events were occurring at one time.  There is a bowling alley/lounge, movie theater, restaurant/sports bar, and several places to eat in this one location.  I told him that we could meet and then decide what to do.  He was adamant about pinpointing a time and a “thing” to do, so he called me back and said The Hangover was playing at 6:30pm.

So that’s what we did.  We saw a movie.  With the warmth of a cactus, he gave me a hug…told me how GREAT it was to finally meet me…and that he would call once he made it home.  Well, he did call, but he was not at home.  I heard loud voices and music in the background.  He said he made it home and had a wonderful evening.

I never heard from him again.

I went salsa dancing.

[1] In no particular order…but the shagging part was my absolute fav! J

[2] No, he did not kill her!  It was a blood clot in the lung.  She was only twenty-nine.  Very sad.

[3] In fact, called me the day she died and had me sit with him until his parents could make it to his apartment.  It was a six hour wait.

[4] But it still feels like a gigantic cleaver in the heart, regardless!

[5] Okay…so I exaggerated!  I didn’t know him, and I don’t allow strangers access to the location of my home.

10 – Match.Com Madness

6 Jul

Picture 23 copy

Call me a hater…but don’t call me Kendra.  I’m flabbergasted.  How does someone who looks like an inbred pygmy, with the personality of sheet rock, become awarded with the ability to marry an intelligent and devoted man like Hank?[1] How (why) has this idiot escaped the hell I know as D-A-T-I-N-G?  I’m pretty[2], intelligent, hard-working, honest, don’t have a bobble head on top of a nine-year-old boy body, have HUMONGOUS boobs[3], and like to give head…so where’s MY Hank, goddamnit?!  Instead of having an eighty-something, millionaire, ex-boyfriend who probably has a HEFty investment in Cialis/Levitra, I have Match.com.  I hate Match.com.

I have gone on three Match dates.  I’m still an angry-blogging-bitch, so that should tell you how well those dates worked out.  For now, I will tell you about…let’s see…what shall I call him?  Much Bitchassness Awry (MBA)!  MBA and I were performing a cyber-dating tango.  I spotted him on a non-Match dating site a few months back, started a chat with him, and then…well…I don’t know what happened.  I may have met some other loser who, ostensibly, must have diverted my attention for the short-term.  Anywho, I thought that MBA was a “perfect” dating candidate for me because of his height[4], extensive education (recently completed his MBA at a prestigious university), sensible age[5], ability to articulate himself, attractiveness, and his seemingly extensive knowledge of astrology[6].

He didn’t seem overly enthused by my romantic overtures, so I abandoned ship.  Then, I joined Match…I read his Match profile and fell in love with his proper usage of the word “perdition.”[7] I ignored the fact that he was leery of chronic wielders of sarcasm…ummm…because that would be me!  I ignored the fact that, if he went through the bother of writing that in his profile, he is probably built with a weak constitution.

So, after what I deem way too much of cyber chatting, I leave him a Match message that says something along the lines of “Let’s take this conversation of the internet…here’s my number…” and he responds with “I already asked you out on Face Book.”  I was like, you could have CALLED…I gave you my number (weirdo).  Another thing I ignored, the fact that he chose to “ask me out for beverages”[8] on FB instead of just fucking calling me!  UGH!  So we made plans to meet at a local bar/eatery at 1pm, actually, MBA said “between 1pm-3pm”…LOL!  At 12:30, while I’m flying about 80mph in a 65mph zone, I receive a phone call from MBA.  He says that time got away from him, and he really needed to reschedule because his brakes had gone bad and needed to be replaced.

A moment of silence, while we respect the blatant STUPIDITY residing within Mr. MBA.

I took that to mean we would not be meeting…ever.  I laughed it off, and thought that maybe he chickened out on the date thing.  Around 4:30pm, I receive a text from MBA.  He wanted to know if we could meet at 6pm.  I thought that was rather presumptuous of him…seeing as how he cancelled earlier.  We agreed on 7pm.

My date with MBA was as eventful as shopping for toiletries.  He reminded me of bosses I have had while working corporate jobs: the personality of sandpaper mixed with the sense of humor of a rock.  I understood his aversion to sarcasm.  He would not get it.  When he spoke, I felt myself drifting off, slipping deeply into the monotonous drone of his voice.  Thank God I had salsa dancing to look forward to…a spin on the dance floor always rights the wrongs of bad dates!

That bobble-headed Kendra, whom of which throws her panties on the floor and never picks up after herself, should thank her lucky stars that she doesn’t have to contend with the Match madness.


[1] The question is OBVIOUSLY rhetorical…It’s all about the Playboy, baby!

[2] At least, that’s what my gay boyfriends and my mother keep telling me…LMAO!

[3] And no, my stomach does not overshadow/avalanche my boobs!

[4] 6’2” …I am 5’10” …Height can become problematic for me.

[5] 37

[6] He knew his sun, moon, and rising signs…IMPRESSIVE!

[7] Foreshadowing…Hello?!  Dating IS the road to perdition!  LOL!

[8] Yes, he REALLY wrote “beverages”!  LOL!

8 – CockGobblers and BoogerWolves: An Open Letter

23 May

bitch please

Dear Andrew,

While I enjoyed our first promenade down memory lane, I do not wish to rehash any of the following PAST occurrences every time we talk:

v  Having sex on the side of the road in the woods

v  Me becoming completely nude in your truck[1] while you leisurely drove about town

v  Having sex in your driveway while MANY cars drove along the busy street you lived on

v  How nice/corruptible/virginal/naive I used to be[2]

v  How shy I used to be

v  How innocent I seemed until the proverbial door to the bedroom closed

v  How well (and often) I sucked your dick[3]

In case you have not realized, I have grown over the past ten years.  I now have a career[4], a car of my own, bills, a puppy, a Master’s degree, an acceptance to receive my Ph.D., and a dwindling set of dependable friends.  I do not want to talk about the past.  I want to talk about the present and the future.  I want to be proactive.  I do not find it attractive that, at thirty-eight years of age, you:

v  Don’t know the name of your daughter’s high school

v  Live at home with your mother…in HER house…

v  Have no job

v  Still drive around town while smoking weed

v  Smoke weed

v  Smoke Black-N-Milds

v  Can’t afford to buy your own plane ticket to come visit me[5]

There are so many things I find pathetic about you, on so many levels.  You are exactly what I am NOT looking for.  I am not one of your cockgobbling boogerwolves who would jump at the chance to do your laundry, pay your bills, and support your sorry ass.  You have not changed, at all, from the Andrew I used to know!  Also, if memory serves me correctly…you don’t exactly “SIZE UP” to my present level of man slaying expectations.  So, I definitely am not going to expend my valuable time, energy, and money on a thirty-eight-year-old, wee-dick wonder, who is still unable to figure out what he wants to be when he grows up.

So…it was lovely reconnecting…now I’ve gotta run and go do some grown-up stuff.  Call me once you’ve graduated from pull-ups to big boy pants.

Your Good Thing Got Up and Went,

1 Bad Girl 🙂

[1] Thank God for tinted windows!

[2] Read: Nothing like the chronic booger-wolf cock-gobblers you were accustomed to in your small town

[3] You never seem to want to talk about how infrequently you returned the favor

[4] That I fucking hate…but a career none-the-less!  In this economy, beggars can’t be choosers.

[5] And then had the audacity to ask me to buy the damn ticket!  HA!