Chocl8t Dating

Valentine’s Day

Originally posted February 12, 2008

brokenheart.jpgIn honor of that wretched stank ass holiday that is Valentine’s, I have decided to reflect on a couple of “love gone wrong” highlights of my past.

But first the disclaimer: I HATE VALENTINE’S DAY! I think it is like most other holidays – commercialized and geared to guilt men into buying flowers, candy, jewelry and other trinkets in order to increase retailers’ bottom line. Women get bent out of shape and pissed off to the highest level of Pisstivity if the man they are married to or “booed” up with fails to come through with any of the aforementioned “guilt gifts”.

Y’all have got to stop drinking the Kool-Aid!

My hatred of the holiday presents the conundrum of all conundrums because it is also my birthday. Oh, I can hear you now, “Ooooh, that’s so sweet. A Valentine’s baby“. SAVE IT! The sh*t blows worse than an Beluga whale…worse than a hooker on Stewart Avenue (the ho strip in Atlanta)…worse than Vivica Fox…worse than, ah hell, you get the point.

I was 22 yrs old, he was 23. We lived together when I first moved to Atlanta. We were immature and dysfunctional. He liked to man-handle me…never hit me with an closed fist just pushed and shoved (like that really makes a difference) when we would get into heated arguments. For a skinny dude he was strong as hell and I knew I couldn’t kick his a$$ so after one of those pushing and shoving moments, I grabbed the biggest knife in the kitchen. As I walked towards him his eyes got as big as saucers. I stomped passed him, out the front door and to his prized ’82 red Mustang GT with the dual-quad carburetor…his “baby“. Flattened all four of those high performance tires, yes I did!! Hit ‘em where it hurts was my philosophy. Turned out to be an expensive philosophy too cause I had to replace the dayum tires. Young. Stupid. In love.

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Life In Lyrics

If you can’t be with the one you love like, love like the one you’re with. – The Isley Brothers

I have found myself in this situation more than once. I find myself there now. I spend time with him by default because, quite frankly, it’s something to do. He’s something to do.

I call him when I want to be in the company of a man…when I want to be touched by a man. There’s no longer any emotional attachment for me. Oh, I used to love him – was “in love” with him, but no more.

After plans fell through with a male friend, I received a text from “the default” to “hang out”. I think ‘what the hell…I don’t have anything better to do so…why not’. He wasn’t my first choice but after 2 Patron shots I head to his side of town. The shots were my attitude adjustment.

As I’m laying there, Chrisette Michele’s “If I Have My Way” begins to play courtesy of XM radio.

You’re who I desire
You light my fire…
With every kiss
You take me higher

My mind drifts…I LOVE this song.  Damn! Nooo, he’s not who I desire.

There’s no one I’d rather share my good lovin with…

Damn! Yes…there is somebody and it’s not the guy attached to the bald head betwixt my thighs.

One day we’ll make love
Passion unheard of
I’ll be your woman
If I have my way…

Sigh…deep sigh…if I had my way this would be someone else.

“My body’s here with him but my mind is on the other side of town”

…in my mind, the O’Jays interrupt Ms Michele’s lovely ballad.

I wake up the next morning to breakfast and a hot shower. On the drive home, I do what I’ve done many times before in this past year…I promise myself this is the last time.

How Many Is Too Many?

I was watching a local TV show the other night hosted by two Atlanta radio personalities. They read a letter from a confused listener/viewer seeking advice, insight, or some sort of understanding in her situation.

The gist of the letter:

It describes a young woman in her late 20s, raised by free-spirited parents who encouraged sexual freedom and responsibility. She became sexually active around the age of 15. She had not been in a serious or committed relationship until recently. While at dinner with the beau of several months, he asked how many men had she’d been with sexually. She responded that is was 624. He called her slut. Now she is confused as to why he would call her such a thing.

woman with menWe know the double standard. A man can bed over 100 women and be considered a “player”. Yet, a woman who does the same is considered a “whore”. I’m not going to debate that issue. It is what it is and I don’t see it changing in my lifetime.

My question, as the title states, is how many is too many for a woman? For a man?

Think about it for a minute…

This prompted several conversations with male friends. One friend threw out an arbitrary number while others scoffed at the very idea. They gave me the “screw face” as if it pained them to even think about it.

Do you have a number yet?

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Born Again Virgins – Does That Mean I Can Call a Mulligan?

inbed2I had never heard of this before the other day when watching clips from The View where they had a bemusing chat on the issue. See the video HERE.

As it turns out there are many women out there “reclaiming” their virginity by opting to abstain from any further sexual activity. Basically, they’re choosing celibacy. The reasons vary from religious beliefs to emotional burnout.

I found the following bit of information on-line while researching this topic:

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Something Is On My Mind…Unh-Huh

Aiight….so….yeah…I got some things and someone(s) on my mind. I’m trying to **ahem** work some things out cause a woman got needs.  I want to go out and shake my assets, have a few Apple martinis and get worked over. heh heh heh

Be sure to check out the last video with my man Chris Brown. Maaan if I ever get my hands on that young man…WHEW! He’d better pray Jesus is a restraining order…or a can of Red Bull!!

Don’t judge me…just roll with it. 😉

With that in mind…enjoy your weekend!!!! 😀

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