Internet FAKERS.

This is a topic that must be discussed. Period and point blank. 

Let me start this latest blog entry off by saying I am not new to the Internets. Blogging maybe. But I have been on the Internet since 1995, when I got my first computer (A Gateway2000 'memba them?) and subscribed to American Online (before it was shortened to AOL). Back in them days, the scenery was very organic. Very real. There were, of course, people who played headgames even back then. But it was as real as it could be in cyberspace. It was a way to communicate and learn information and meet new people in other parts of the country and world. It was FUN!

Then social networking sites began to hit the Internet and thus started to take their toll on the fun-ness of logging on. People began to be preoccupied about their appearance more so than substance. "Let me post the best picture, even though it may be ten years ago when I was fifty pounds lighter, or better yet, let me just steal someone else's pics. Let me create a personality, another virtual me, that is nothing like me. Let me invent an identity. A resume. I graduated from Stanford and have a PhD in Biochemical Warfare. I have seven cars for every day of the week and I travel every week to a new place and I am invited to all of these parties and premieres and such. I am so fabulous, yo!"

Why can't people just be themselves? Be proud of their occupation or lack thereof, whatever it is. Why do we feel the need to impress? I am noticing, especially on TWITTER, that everyone seems to be a publicist, a model, a manager, a record exec, a something. There are only a handful of folks such as myself that aren't in the "industry". Knowing what little that I do know about the entertainment business, I find this hard to believe because it is a very close-knit and small group of folks in the urban realm. Don't get me wrong, I am not calling each and every person I've met online a liar because I do know there are those of you who are grinding it out and doing their thing and are quite successful at doing it too. And I love it. I love seeing folks on the come-up. But for those who feel that they have to create a false lifestyle in order to feel elite is suspect to me.

And then there are those individuals who are not necessary lying about their occupations or lifestyles but create a SASHA FIERCE character to coincide with their real life. For instance, in real life they are quiet, reserved, introverted. But online they become boisterous, obnoxious, loud, bold. Come on now. I am seeing people with statuses like "I am going to whip on this 'hoe' or "I am at ole boys house and he and I are getting ready to get busy" when in actuality they are sitting on their couch watching Maury Povich and can't get crunk in real life to save themselves from an uncertain death.

You don't have to lie to kick it.

Be you. Flaws and all. I think those that keep it real are the most fabulous.

I Am. Divorced.

Many of you know that I am divorced. What many people do not know is the circumstances behind the split. Here are the details:

I met my ex husband in 1998. Online. We were both in a Yahoo chat room (remember those?) and he mentioned that he was from St. Louis. I was living in Florida and I sent a private message letting him know that I was from St. Louis originally. We exchanged emails, struck up a friendship and which grew over time.

Fast forward to the year 2000. I had been struggling in Florida and thinking about just giving up and moving somewhere else. I had already tried to move to Atlanta and failed before I was even unable to move. I knew I had to do something because Florida was becoming a place that I hated to live. It was during this time that my ex husband was breaking up with his woman. Our emails became more frequent and I told him of my troubles and he invited me to come to St. Louis to visit him. Purchased a ticket for me and had it waiting at the ticket counter.

I thought why not? Most of my family lived in St. Louis so I would have a place to stay. He sent me a ticket and I came to visit on August 12, 2000. I stayed.

Fast forward. We got serious rather quickly. Fell in love. He was brilliant, funny, warm, open, honest, and handsome. He was the prototype and we had so much in common. We were both only children. Our families got along. He was my best friend. A match made in heaven.

We got married.

We had a daughter.

He became another father to my son.

But marrying your best friend is hard. People think this would be the ideal marriage but it wasn't. We were always looking for something. Everything was too familiar. Too perfect. Too cookie cutter. Just going through life daily and not experiencing excitement began to take a toll on our marriage.

Then he cheated.

Then I did.

Then it was just the two of us trying to hurt one another over and over again. We tried to work it out but we couldn't overcome the past. There was too much damage done. I couldn't forget his discretion and he couldn't forget mine.

We separated in January if last year and the divorce was final in October.

There are times that I feel I will ever get married again but I know that probably isn't the case. I do know that when and if I get married again, it won't be to my best friend. I know this sounds ridiculous but when you are too much like someone else, and you have that best friend thing that turns into a marriage, it oftentimes comes to bite you in the ass. I am thankful to my ex-husband. He is a great father to the both of my children. He takes care of business. And we still remain close.

Our marriage was not a mistake.

We just weren't ready. I know that now.

30 Day No Soda Challenge Update (Day 7)

I am on my seventh day of not ingesting soda and I feel great. No more headaches (Thank GOD) and I have lost a total of 5 and a half pounds. All from not drinking soda. I feel better, less sluggish each day and I am sharper. I never really knew that there were "side effects" of drinking so much soda, but I now see what I was doing to my body.

A special thanks to everyone who has given me feedback since I have begun this journey. I a truly grateful and I plan on continuing this challenge for more than 30 days. This is going to be a new lifestyle change for me.

MUAH!

His Hands = The Sweetest Taboo

His hands were like lightening to my thunderstorm when we connected. Sensual. Loving without love if that makes any sense. He is smooth with it. Takes his time to get it right. Not methodical or calculating. I can tell he is living for the moment, spontaneous with the passion. Not too much but not too little. Just enough to get that thang right.

He asked me to take of my clothes which I did slowly. He took off his. And then we stood there touching one another like this was out first time seeing the opposite sex naked. He emitted positivity and I was drawn to it. His skin was smooth. Brown. Serene. The right amount of moisture. He put his hands on my breasts and cupped them like he was holding a baby. So soft. I whispered he didn't have to be so gentle. But if he wanted to be soft he could. But if he wanted to rub em harder, he could do that too.

He sat on his bed. I stood facing him. His hands went from my breasts to my waist to my hips to my thighs and then he cupped my ass. Jiggled it. We laughed. He told me he never would've thought about doing this two years before. I said I know, me neither. I was married then. He was with ole girl. It would've been completely wrong. To engage in this sort of behavior before now. But here we were. Attraction had taken over. And now we can do what we've been wanting to do.

The nakedness of this whole affair was arousing. We didn't get RIGHT to it. We made ourselves familiar with one another. His bedroom was warm, a blanket of heat and eroticism in the air. His Ipod was on a playlist of slow songs and I was sure I wasn't the only female to here them. In this room. But I didn't care. Couldn't care less. At this time, being in a relationship was the furthest thing from my mind. It was all about the BIG O.

We laid in the bed. He was still caressing my breasts, which I think was his favorite part on my body. My other body parts were getting jealous but it was okay. Time. And patience. I had that. He played in my hair. Cupped my face with his one free hand. I giggled because Lovers and Friends from Lil Jon and Usher came on. It was like the Ipod knew our relationship up to that point. I asked him if he liked to kiss. He said yeah.

I asked him to kiss me.

He did.

A kiss is a deal breaker for me. If a dude can't kiss, then I am out the door. It is that serious to me. Our lips connected and met. And saliva. The kiss was nice. Slow as hell, not too deep, kind of teasing. Okay. I could stay. He knew how to kiss.

We touched and felt and kissed for hours it seemed. I looked at the time and it was almost 2 in the morning. I had to go to work the next morning.

We didn't do the deed.

I got dressed slowly and he helped me. It was cute. He was still hard and I felt bad. All of that foreplay and we didn't do anything. But to be honest, I didn't want to anymore. It wasn't about that tonight. We had been co-workers before. Then friends. Then "brother and sister". Then possible hook-up homies. The titles of our relationships had changed so many times. This was not something we should rush.

We hugged. And kissed. I made it to the front door. We hugged again and I told him I would call him later that day. I started walking to my car and then he called my name. I turned around. He met me halfway and we hugged again. A quick peck. And I got in my Jeep with my sweetest taboo.

The next day at work, I logged onto Facebook. And to my surprise, he had updated his status. And he did it in a way that paid homage to our night before. No one else knew but me what it meant. But it was touching and cute. And all of that.

His hands. I want to feel them again. It's been too long. Yeah.

My Addiction To U (Plus) My 30 Day No Soda Challenge

If you're happy and you know it, clap your hands.

I am not clapping folks.

I am irritable and bitter and borderline psychotic because my mind is playing tricks on me. Ryan Leslie's song about addiction keeps playing in my cerebral cortex as I dream of the days I sipped on a ice cold Dr. Pepper straight out of a 12 ounce can.

Those days are gone.

Not one for resolutions, I began to think of ways I could revolutionize my life as '08 came to an end. Live better. Go farther. Do more. And so, as of Monday, January 5, 2008, I put myself on a self supervised 30 Day No Soda Challenge.

I figured I drank about 4 12 ounces of soda per day (during the week) and maybe even more than that on the weekends. That, my friends, is not good, and a one-way ticket to diabetes-ville. Hell, I am surprised I am not morbidly obese with all of the soda I have consumed on a daily basis.

But that was then....

I am currently having issues, though, because soda was an addiction. I have had about three headaches since I began the challenge. I know my body is withdrawing from caffeine and so I drink iced tea which has caffeine to substitute but I think my body knows the difference. I went to the grocery store yesterday on my off day and purchased apple and cranberry juice as well as lemonade, and plenty of water. The first day was very easy but today I am stressing out big time.

I WANT A FREAKING SODA!

In addition to my no soda rule (not even diet soda folks which I can't stand anyway), I am also instituting the following guidelines for my new and improved lifestyle and healthy living:

• Eating breakfast everyday and NO SKIPPING
• Making sure I get at least 10 glasses of water each day
• Taking my lunch to work and no longer purchasing fast food or takeout
• Cooking dinner each night, healthier meals and no fried foods
• No eating after 7pm during the week
• Yoga class at the Y (I will tackle Pilates this spring)

I am hoping that with these new life choices, I am preparing myself to live a longer, more healthy life. My father has been very ill lately and heart disease runs in my family and I do not want to become a victim of that. I want to be around for my offspring as well as show them a healthier way to live so that they can therefore live a longer life as well.

Someone has got to break the chain....

LOL. I will whine. I will complain. I will probably write numerous a blog regarding my frustrations. But I know in the end, I am doing the right thing for me and my well being.

If anyone else would like to participate in the 30 Day No Soda Challenge with me, please e-mail me at dannigyrl_is_fab@yahoo.com

I already have a few Twitter folks who are participating with me. Let's do this :P

Homeless. Gypsy Woman.

Most of you are familiar with the Crystal Waters tune from 1991 called Gypsy Woman in which she sang about a homeless woman against a thumping house beat. Well, I was literally a gypsy woman a few years ago and was officially homeless for about two months. Below is a recount of how that unfolded and how I found redemption.

In the fall of 1998, I was tired of struggling and barely getting by. My son at that time was 4 years old and I was a single mother. My son's father wasn't contributing that much financially due to his recent arrest for selling drugs, so it was all on me to provide for the welfare of our child. I was making about $7.00 at that time and living in Florida where I was in an area known as Safety Harbor near Clearwater. I was paying about $550 per month rent for a two bedroom apartment and about $95 per week for daycare. In addition, I also had a car note, car insurance, utility bills, etc. etc. and with my wage, it was hard to make ends meet with no additional contributions.

So I came up with this brilliant idea to move to Atlanta. A friend of mine's sister lived there was needing a secretary for her up and coming business and was willing to pay me $11 per hour. Thinking I was on a come up, I gave a 30 day notice to my apartment building and gave notice to my employer, and began selling off my furniture because I was going to start fresh in Atlanta. I cashed in my 401k at the company I was working in and made the necessary plans to move.

My dad agreed to let my son stay with him in St. Louis for a few months until the Christmas holiday while I was in transition. The plan was after I got settled, I would fly back to St. Louis to retrieve my son. The day before I was due to leave, a series of events happened. My 401k was deposited in my bank account, but my account was levied because I owed past due taxes. The IRS took everything in the account so I had no money to move. My last paycheck was also deposited in my account and that was taken too.

I was going to need a few weeks to hustle up some more money before my move but I was told by employer that they had already hired someone to take my place and they were starting that next Monday. I then called my new employer in Atlanta and told her it would be a few weeks until I would have the money to move and she then told me not to even bother coming because she needed someone like yesterday and was going to hire someone else if I didn't get there ASAP. I had already sold all of my furniture and had to leave my apartment at the end of the weekend because my complex had rented it out.

The only good thing at this time was that my son was already in St. Louis so I didn't have to worry about him. My Aunt had flew in from St. Louis for my father and she and my son flew back.

I had only $100.00 to my name.

I was too embarrassed to tell anyone I didn't have any money or nowhere to go. 

My mother and I weren't talking at this time because I called her out on her shit with her drug abuse. My best friend and I weren't talking because she owed me money and didn't want to pay me. When it came to Florida, I didn't have many friends left. That was one of the many reasons why I wanted to leave. The "friend" who's sister I was going to work for in Atlanta stopped taking my phone calls. I had no one.

I called my dad about the job offer falling through but I didn't have the nerve to tell him I was broke. He was taking care of my son and helping me out, so I didn't want to ask for even more when he was doing so much for me already.

So I took what possessions I had and loaded it in my Neon and basically began living out of my car. I found a job working through a temp agency and began working right away as a receptionist. I worked during the day, slept in the car at night, usually in a Denny's parking lot. And in the wee hours in the morning before the sunlight came up, I would wash up in the Denny's bathroom or a hotel lobby bathroom which was next door and get dressed. No one at work knew I was homeless. I dressed well. Hair was done. Make-up applied. I didn't smell. No one was the wiser.

This was such a scary time. I had a cell phone (PrimeCo) that I was able to keep during this unfortunate event, so I would talk on the phone to mere acquaintances to keep myself awake at night. When I couldn't fight the sleep anymore, I would make sure the doors were locked, turn on the radio, and get in the backseat and let the music lull me to sleep. Every car that passed, every person that walked by, I woke up and acted like everything was normal. It was so hard putting on this act day in and day out. But I did it. And I did it well.

It was November and December in Florida and although it didn't get really cold, there were nights that I would turn my car on in intervals and run the heat so I wouldn't freeze. I missed all of my favorite shows without a television. I had no idea what was going on in the world or the news until I got to work each day. I was living a double life.

On the weekends, on the Friday I got paid each week, I stayed in a hotel where I enjoyed sleeping in a real bed and taking a real shower. It was like heaven to me.

Towards the end of December, right before Christmas, I saved up enough money for a small one bedroom apartment in St. Petersburg. I was elated even though it was nothing like the apartment I had before. At least I had a roof over my head and I would have heat and a shower, and a kitchen to fix meals.

Every time now that I get down, I think of this time in my life. I think of the pride that I had during this time and the fact that that pride, that inability to ask for help resulted in me sleeping in my car every night. 

I am so thankful God watched over me during that time and that nothing bad happened to me. I was also thankful that I was able to get out of that situation quickly. I never want to go back to living like that again.

My First Girl/Girl Experience

Let me start this blog off by saying that I am not a lesbian. And there is nothing wrong with being a lesbian. To each his own. I do find other women attractive. I do (in the recesses of my mind during very late hours of the night) think about what it would be like to be with another woman. I am not one of those women who walk around saying they are strictly dickly because hell, maybe there will be a time that I may be open to "something new". But I have never been with another woman except on two very rare occasions, one of which I am blogging about right now. The other, well that is another story for another time (perhaps). I do love my men, I love everything about them. But I will not rule out the possibility in the future of being with another woman and I will just leave it at that for now.

Okay.

I was young. 14 I believe. My mother's best friend's daughter was having a sleepover at her house. It was her birthday and I believe she was turning 16. So, you know how it was back in the day. My mother's best friend felt obligated to invite me to the party even though she was a few years older than me. At that point, we really didn't have anything in common. But I was happy to go because I was going to an older girls event and I wanted to see what it was like being 16. Mom dropped me off at her house that evening and the slumber party was in full swing.

We ate pizza. Danced to MC Hammer, Vanilla Ice, EnVogue and others. Some of the girls snuck on the phone and called boys and stuff and I tried to listen to their intimate conversations. We played Truth or Dare and some other games and stayed up well into the night. I really don't remember falling asleep but I must have because I was awoke during the night while I was in my sleeping bag.

The following is going to be very graphic so if you are of the prudish type, do not continue:

I felt someone, a hand, unzip my bag. My heart started to pound because I didn't know if someone had broken in. An intruder of some sort. The person who was unzipping my bag could sense my tenseness and covered my mouth before I could scream. All I could hear them say was sssh.

I closed my eyes. I didn't know what to do. This person got into the sleeping bag with me and climbed on top of me. I felt her breasts against mine and I knew it was another female. My heart began to beat even faster. I was halfway turned on and halfway scared out of my ass. She guided her hands under my sleep shirt and cupped my breasts. Even at 14, my breasts were huge. She played with them, massaging the nipples and I couldn't contain the way I was feeling. Half of me wanted her to get off of me so I could go tell my mother's best friend and the other half of me was intrigued with what was going down.

After she caressed my breasts and played with my nipples, her hands found their way to my Hello Kitty panties. I couldn't stop myself from getting wet. I was so aroused at this point. I was still a virgin then, but had played with myself plenty of times to know that I absolutely enjoyed orgasms and the euphoric feeling it emitted. Without further adieu, she guided my panties down my legs and began to play with my vagina. My hips started to move with each and every stroke and I began panting and moaning. She whispered in my ear to be quiet and that is exactly what I did because I didn't want her to stop.

I wanted more.

She started to kiss me. Not tongue or anything. Just gentle pecks on my lips. I kissed her back. She kept rubbing my mound until I could feel I was at the breaking point and then she stopped. I could feel the moisture being transferred onto her and she then slid her way down the sleeping bag so that her mouth met my clit.

I was scared.

I tried to pull away but the bad girl in me wanted to know what it felt like. She licked me over and over, hitting the exact spot in which would cause me to come. It was like she knew my body better than I knew it myself. I was in sheer ecstasy. Not being able to contain it anymore, I placed my hand on her head and forced her to move faster and faster. I guess she couldn't keep up because she stopped and moved her head and began moving herself up towards my chest.

She pushed all of her weight on me and began grinding against me, moving her hips in a circular motion. I am sure by this time someone else had to be hearing us and I tried to peer through the blackness of the room to see if anymore was up but I couldn't tell from my vantage point. I heard someone snoring and someone moving in their sleeping bag but that was it. And by now I didn't care because it felt so good.

She pushed and I pushed and she thrusted and then I thrusted and all at once I felt the beginnings of the sensation and that familiar tingle let me know that it was about to go down. She bumped up against me touching THAT spot and BAM! I came. I think she did too because it was like the wind had been knocked out of both of us.

After a few minutes, she climbed back into her sleeping bag which was next to mine and we went to sleep. I could tell she was to the right of me. When we woke up that morning, I looked to my right and her bag was empty. Everyone was up but me.

I quickly got up and put on my panties which were at the bottom of my sleeping back and put on my robe. All of the girls were in the kitchen cooking pancakes and I felt left out. I was trying to see if I could get any indication that the others knew what had happened that night and if they did, no one was saying a word. My eyes danced from person to person to see if there was any connection with the girl that had just gotten me off the night before. We all had similar body types that it was hard to tell which one had been my seductress from the night before.

It was like it was a cruel joke. I had no idea who it was. I knew it was real. I knew I hadn't been dreaming and yet I didn't know who she was. And know one was saying anything.

Anyway, this bothered me for weeks. And then one day I got a call from Antoinette (my mom's best friend's daughter) who asked me if anything strange had happened that night. I told her that a girl kissed me while I was sleep, embarrassed to say what had really happened and she told me that her cousin, B.J. told her that she liked me. B.J. was gay and was at the party that night and was 18. I didn't know B.J. was gay until Antoinette told me. Then Antoinette asked me if I liked girls and I told her I didn't. Which was true. But I couldn't admit to her that I liked that connection I had with B.J. that night.

Well. I never saw B.J. again and Antoinette and I never spoke about it again either. Then we ended up moving so it wasn't a big deal anymore. I never wanted to be with another woman after that and didn't consider myself a lesbian or anything. I just chalked it up to a sexual experiment that happens to some teenagers I guess.

I had another girl/girl experience in my early 20's (in a drunken state) and maybe one day I will blog about it. Then again, maybe not. :)

Lovers. &. Friends.

We all know that mixing friendship and sex and love and all of that can be a recipe for toxicity. Right now, I am feeling that I am delving into matters and situations with someone close to me that is causing me to break that forbidden and sometimes, unspoken rule. 

Question:

Can men and women be friends. Platonic. No sex?

Answer:

Yes. I have several male friends with whom I am strictly friends with and we haven't gone into that forbidden territory. Of course, some will say that men and women can be friends but there is always that "want" for one or the other or both to eventually have sex. There is always that attraction. And I do agree with that to a certain extent. But I do have friends who are male that I do not feel attracted to whatsoever and they aren't attracted to me (or so they say). So let's say the jury is still out on that one.

But let's get back to the topic at hand. I have a friend who is male and the two of us have been friends for a few years. Now this is a little different because I do believe we have been attracted to each other even before I divorced (more on my divorce later). Anyway, he and I have been kicking it ALOT I would say over the past several months and it we kissed for the first time in over two years last month. It could have went farther but I think we both knew that if it did, we would be at the point of no return and neither one of us are prepared for that.

Shit. He is so cool. And we have a lot in common. We both adore music and the way to my heart, or at least the map, always involves music. And with the new year upon us, I don't want to count him out because we are such good friends. But I also don't want to ruin the wonderful friendship we have built. He is very important to me and I don't think trying to make something between us would be worth potentially damaging our friendship.

This sucks.

Tonight we spoke for a half hour or so and neither of us were confident or comfortable enough with bringing up our pending "relationship"exploring it further. But I must admit, the thought of possibly being his woman, walking beside him, holding his hand, having his back, cooking his dinner and rubbing him down at night is quite appealing. I think about it often. Although, hell, neither one of us are ready for that. He just got out of  relationship a few months prior and I just divorced last October. So we are still healing from the past.

I don't wanna hold onto falsehoods. But I don't want to let go either.

I get wet when I see him. When we kissed and our bodies connected and he held me in his arms, I was ready to burst. When I am around him, I feel tingly and warm and fuzzy all at the same time. I can't front.

What's a girl to do?

My First Post Of '09. Thank You To New & Old Followers & Readers.

So we finally made it. 2009 has begun and I just know that it is going to be a good year. Personally, 2008 was a watershed year for me but I am not one to continue a negative thought process, especially when a new beginning is upon us. As I blogged before in my previous post, I am looking forward to conquering a few goals and continuing to grow in many aspects including my blog and video blog and website. This blogging experience is still new for me, and I feel there is so much for me to share with the world.

To my followers and readers, I appreciate you for taking time out of your busy day to read my blog. When I first began blogging, I felt disenfranchised because I wasn't getting many comments or feedback. But what I have learned (through my stats) is my visitor count is growing daily and I have been getting a constant flow of repeat readers who are interested in what I have to say. My followers are the best! You guys always keep me on my toes and give me your ear when I am in need of an unbiased point of view. For that, I am eternally grateful and hope that I continue to entertain you and enlighten you with my reality blog. This project is not about comment count or even traffic, but more about me letting go of baggage that used to consume me everyday. I now have an outlet to release and fortunately, that outlet identifies with others.

So again, here's to '09. There is so much more for me to share, so much living to do, and so much to look forward to.

MUAH!

2008. Yeah.

As the year is about to wind down come to an end, most people begin to sit back and reflect on the past year's events; the hits and misses, the mistakes, the pains, the joys, the highs, the lows, and ultimately, what could've been better in retrospect. 

All-in-all, I can say that while 2008 had its challenging moments for me, I am very blessed and I am happy with what the year had to offer overall. I met some new friends whom I hope to have in my life for a very long time. I bonded with my mother and repaired our damaged relationship. I helped my family in many ways both emotionally as well as financially. I bought a new home. I found my niche in the corporate world. And I gained a new perspective about life and became closer to God. What more can you ask for?

I am not one for resolutions. For one, each year that I made a resolution, I've always broken them within a week or two. So I am going to follow in last year's footsteps and not make any resolutions this for next year as well. But I do have a few goals that I've set for myself:

• Get my non-profit off the ground and invest in my own business endeavor
• Get in shape. Work out on a regular basis. I have fallen off the last few months
• Establish better eating habits. Less dining out and cut out the sodas (oh how I love 'em)
• Finalize the revisions and edits of my novel and get it published this year, by May 1st
• Less television. More ME time
• Work on my son's website and help him establish his acting career
• Be more frugal when it comes to spending but not lose the sponteneity
• Continue to cultivate my blog and launch my personal website and vlog.
• Finally go to NEW YORK CITY!

That is just a snapshot of the goals that I have set forth this year. As I accomplish these goals, I am going to refer back to this post and check-mark the goal I have completed off of the list. 

What are some of the things you want to accomplish in the upcoming year? I would love to hear your goals, resolutions, hopes and dreams for the new year. Please comment and let me know what you are thinking about in terms of self improvement in the upcoming year.

I Had To. Do It.

Last night was rough. I wasn't feeling well. But I was oh so horny. TINGLY. Warm and FUZZY. I tried to fight off the urge as much as I could. I even tried to put a pillow in between my legs as to control and mediate the pulses and sensations that were running amuck in that area. I squeezed my thighs together tighter thinking that with that one act, I would be able to curtail the persistent urge that radiated throughout my body and my inside.

It didn't work.

As sweat formed on my forehead in the unusually 70 degree December night heat, I opened my window and listened to the wind blow against the screen. I turned on my television and flipped to an Adult PPV. Picked the first one that looked interesting and bought it through the remote. An overwhelming since of guilt overcame me but I knew that I was at the point of no return.

My hand took a trip down south. My legs spread. And I submitted to the deed.

I have been fighting off the urge to masterbate for almost as long as I have been fighting the urge to have sex. But the intense feeling that I was experiencing would not let me go to bed without fulfilling my bodily urges. And need.

I do feel defeated and I do feel like I let myself down. I also must make sure that this sexual adventure that happened last night will not happen again anytime soon. I don't want to settle with pleasuring myself in order to get my rocks off. I don't want to fall into that all familiar pattern.

I slipped. But I am back on my feet again. We will see if I prevail tonight.

Just The Lonely. Talking. Again.

Is it possible for me to have the type of love that I have dreamt about and prayed about all of my life? Is it possible for me to be truly fulfilled by another man and have in my life a true soulmate that I can bond with until the end of my days?

I would like to know. Is my quest for a fruitful relationship with another man pointless and a waste of time? I know I am such a nerd. I know I am such an idealistic individual. I want what I see in the movies and read in romance novels. I know friends, close friends, who have that in their lives. I am just wondering if I will be able to experience that for myself as well. 

Just food for thought I guess. Because I can admit. I can front like I have it all. Or be truthful and admit that I am lonely.

I Need To Blog But...

right now I am fighting a cold bug and not in the mood. BUT, I do want you to watch this commercial that has been running locally in my area (and several other cities). This is madness and coonery at it's best. 

Let me know what you think of this foolishness being aimed at OUR people:

4 Months. And. Counting.

I haven't had sex in four months. Make that four and a half months. My body is weakening but my resolve is strong. I didn't set out on a quest to be celibate or to abstain from sex. I am a spiritual person but I wouldn't say I am highly religious. I am mainly not taking part in sexual activity because I am not in a serious or committed relationship. I don't want to have a one night stand. I don't want to have casual sex. I want to be in a steady and monogamous relationship and until that happens, I will not be participating in sexual intercourse.

Oral? Well that may be another story. But that is also another topic for another time.

The last time I had sex was in August. I was dating a person whom was living in Arkansas. We were doing the long distance relationship type of thing. I guess. If you could even call it a relationship. The sex was okay, nothing to write home about. And then on my way home, I thought about it. I thought, why did I just do that? We were safe and we protected ourselves. But it wasn't just about that. Why did I give myself to someone that I really didn't have feelings for. Did I care about him? Yes. I care about all of my friends. But I wouldn't give up the panties to my friends, neither. That is why they are simply friends and not anything more.

I crossed the line and I am not going to cross it again. Mind you, I have been divorced. I was married for five years.  And I dated my ex-husband for eight years prior. So this dating thing is all new to me. Again. And I see that the rules have changed. I never was one to believe in casual sex. And I am also very proud to say that I can count the number of partners I have using both my hands with several fingers left unclaimed. I have never been promiscuous but I do enjoy the act of having sex and experiencing an orgasm. Lately I have fallen back into my old habit of masterbating and watching porn which is something that I have been fighting for years, every since I was a little girl. I don't want to be a slave to sex. I want to experience making love with someone who I am in a relationship with, not a drive-by action.

I am sticking to my guns.

Which is why it has been four months. Four and a half months. And it has been hard. Especially when you are around someone who you are really attracted to. Someone that you are close to physically and kiss and hug and share intimacies with besides sex. Right now I am going through it trying to keep my sensibilities in focus. My want versus my needs are hard to distinguish at times but I still manage.

I am hoping that the drought will be over soon.

But, until then my friends, I will continue to fight the good fight. I don't want to have any regrets later, so therefore. I must keep this commitment to myself. And I am worth it.

That's My Mama

Saturday night will be one to remember. After working half a day, I ran a few errands and planned to relax for the evening. I was invited to yet another Christmas party but I really wasn't interested in going and there was no RSVP required so I didn't feel bad skipping out. But anyway, Mom calls me that afternoon and asks me if I wanted to go out for drinks and dinner. 

Not really. The temperature was dropping and it was getting windy. My toasty house was feeling so good but I relunctantly said yes because I knew she had been under a lot of stress personally and needed to get out the house and enjoy herself.

I was able to make last minute reservations at Magianno's at 9:15 and that gave me plenty of time to get some rest in before I had to pick up mom for dinner. Anyway, when we arrived at Magianno's we were early and our table was not ready so we sat at the bar and my mom ordered her usual Long Island ice tea and I had my usual amaretto sour.

Now let me digress a moment and tell you that my mother and I have quite a rocky past. If you read my blog post about an incident when I was 14, you would know that my mom wasn't the best mom on earth. No one would give her an award for her parenting. While growing up, my mom showed me love, but was also distant in some respects. She was high a lot which I am sure clouded her judgement. She even lost me, according to my dad, when I was 2 years old and he found me walking down a major street by myself. No, I cannot make this up!

The last five years have been a time of healing for my mom and I. In 2000, I moved to St. Louis from Florida and in 2005 after my mom went through Hurricane Rita (the follow-up after Hurricane Katrina) I went to get her from West Palm Beach and move her here. During the car trip from Florida to St. Louis, we healed many wounds. I forgave her for being a less than stellar parent. My mom was 18 when she was married and 19 when she had me. She went straight from her mother's house to living in a home with my dad and didn't understand about taking care of a home or a child. She tried many times, and I think she regretted settling down and having a kid so young. She took that out on me I think. But I no longer blame her. What's done is done and I have moved on from that former pain.

So anyway, back to present day. We are at the bar at Magiannos and she is the life of the party at the bar. Cracking jokes, talking in her patented New York accent that she always does to impress the masses. My mom is a ham and she really puts it on when she has been drinking. She kept saying this is my daughter, introducing me to everyone like I was a star of some sort. She is so cute with her mini-adoration of me. Some even commented that they thought we were sisters and not mother and daughter. But we are used to it because we get it a lot.

We were placed at a nice table in the center of the restaurant and we had a fabulous time. But, my mom was kicking back the teas like it was no one's business and pretty soon, it was apparent that she was drunk. I told her that she didn't need anymore to drink. She agreed.

My mom says she needs to go to the bathroom and before I can volunteer to help her to the bathroom, she fell while walking away from the table. Such a lush! Everyone in that area of the restuarant was gawking at us and I just smiled and kept it moving and helped her to the bathroom. Mama is not a young woman anymore and now has problems holding her liquor.

I love that woman. I do. You only get one and the one mom and I have may not be the best but she is mine. I am sure soon there will be another falling out (we tend to have our little tiffs every now and then) but we always break-up to make up. Can anyone else out there relate?

Today. Cold.

I had to run a few errands today. Needed to go to the grocery store and get a few things. Also needed to visit Target and get items for my annual Christmas Eve party. My grandmother called me this morning and warned me about the temperature. Told me not to go out but you know I wasn't hearing that. 

Shoulda listened to Grandma. LOL. I went out and braved the weather and it was so cold that my eyes were watering. My fingers were numb after only a few seconds of walking to the car from the store. The temperature reading on the Jeep said 7 degrees but I would bet with the wind chill that is was below zero easily.

Incidentally, today is the first day of winter and also the shortest day of the year. This could be the coldest winter ever.

Giving. Pride. & All That Comes With It.

This post will not only be about the season but also about being there for friends in need. As you know, my blog consists solely on my experiences, present and past, and I not only find solace and relief in writing and receiving feedback from my readers, but keeping it real and communicating my ideas, thoughts, processes, etc.

I have a homie, a very close friend whom I have been kicking it with for a minute. This person is first and foremost a dear friend of mine and also someone who I have a romantic link to. I have even blogged about him a few times so you guys are well aware of who he is and where he stands in my life. Anyway, he and I spoke on Tuesday and I asked him what he had for lunch and he told me he hadn't eaten a thing. I asked him why not. And he himm'd and haw'd and then said he didn't have any money for lunch. I was like whoa, no money? That's not like him to not be holding anything. And then he told me that he had some issues with the bank because of electronic debits and whatnot and he was informed by the bank via text message earlier that day that he currently had a negative balance. And the kicker was he had just been paid but because his balance was in the red, most of his check went to fees and the rest went to bills and whatnot. He only gets paid once a month.

I paused because first of all, I have been there in the past and know what is like to not have anything. I was waiting for him to ask to borrow some money. I wasn't going to just offer it up like that. He and I have spoken of being prideful in the past--he accused me of showing too much pride during numerous exchanges he and I had. So I wanted to call the kettle black and see if he was also had a pride issue. We continued the conversation and he didn't ask me to borrow anything. We ended the phone call and he told me to call him later that night, which I did and he didn't answer.

I called him on Wednesday and he didn't answer as well. I left a message. I began to feel something fishy was going on because we talk like everyday. I was wondering if he wasn't calling me because I didn't offer to let him borrow the money. That feeling nagged me all through Thursday and the beginning of today.

So I was thrilled when I received a message on Myspace from him. He said his celly had been cut off due to non-payment but that he could receive incoming calls and he has been waiting on me to call. I picked up my cell and called him and then I got a recording that said that the customer I dialed was not available.

Complete disconnect.

So I found an old e-mail with his work number and tried to reach him there and got his voicemail. I told him to call me.

He called a few hours later and I didn't beat around the bush. I knew times were hard for him and now he didn't have his wireless access. I offered to wire him some money, enough to get him through a few days. If he needed more in the future, we would discuss it. He changed the subject for awhile and we caught up, but I went back to discussing the money because he was being prideful. I wanted him to accept it. I also told him that he was always talking to me about my pride but he also had some issues with that.

He then got off of his high horse and told me he needed the money. And he was thankful and grateful that I would come through for him like that.

I have talked about this before and discussed this with NightFall914, in that I am giver 300%. I have always been like that and I give way more than I receive. But that is not the point for me. I enjoy giving, enjoy helping others, even if the roles were reversed, they probably wouldn't help me. I don't give because I want reprosity. I give because I want to. Because I need to. And if you have it available, why not?

During this season and time of year, we get all doped up on Christmas gifts and wanting and salivating over materialistic items. And yes, I am part of that group as well. But it is better to give than receive and I work at that everyday, not only during this time of year, but 365. There is no one on this planet that can say I am not a giver and not true to my word when I do offer help.

We can also use an angel at some point in our lives. Today, I was that angel, I put a band-aid on it and I kissed the boo-boo. Halo please!

Gravity.

An encounter yesterday left me bewildered and a little saddened. I have to unleash this incident out of my soul so I can be free of it.

I hate to be redundant, but for my new readers or to those that don't follow me on Twitter, I am a property manager for two apartment complexes in the St. Louis area. Anyway, everyday, I come in contact with many people from various walks of life. I love the type of job I have because it allows me flexibility with my schedule and I also get to incorporate my knowledge (and degrees)  in both PR and Human Services with my tenants and prospective residents. Anyway, this entry is not about my gig, but about something that so left a bad taste in my mouth that I must share it with you.

I have a young resident that is a single mother. For the sake of anonymity, let's call her Renee. Now Renee is a stripper in a bar in East St. Louis. Of course I know this because I had to verify her rental history as well as her employment status and income. Anywho, that is not really a big deal. I have residents that do all types of things, and as long as they can document their income and pass a thorough criminal background and credit check, and make three times the amount of rent, they will be approved. So Renee has been living in my complex for almost two years. She pays her rent on time for the most part and I don't hear much from her which I like. In any event, her neighbor informed me a few weeks ago that Renee had a dog in her apartment, a rottweiler which is against her lease. We do allow pets BUT they must be under 20 pounds and the resident must pay a pet fee security deposit of $350.00. They also must pay an extra $25 per month pet rent and submit accurate and up to date health records on the dog and we do not allow specific breeds such as pit bulls or rots. So when this neighbor came to me and told me Renee had a dog, I had to do some investigating.

I tried to track down Renee for a few weeks and I also tried to call her and she was dodging my calls. I finally saw her yesterday while I was walking the grounds and cornered her in a very professional way. I asked her if she had a dog because there had been a complaint and she instantly got on the defensive. I began to tell her that if she had a dog and it was not on the approved pet breed list, she would have to get rid of it or we would be forced to terminate a herlease letter and  find somewhere else to stay.

That is where, my friends, it got hectic. She began cursing me out (I won't repeat it because you all know the types of words that are used in this situation and they aren't very nice). But basically she called me all kinds of bitches and hoes and whatnot. Very loudly. Trying to keep my cool, I warned her that I wasn't going to finish the conversation if she didn't calm down and stop disrespecting me with all of this foolishness and she had the nerve to tell me, "Well, you think you are all that but you ain't. With all that white girl talk."

Now the old me, the old immature reckless me, would've gotten physical and would've connected my fist to her face but I had to keep composure. Everything was in my court. I had the upper hand because I could terminate the lease just off of that and go about my business and let the Sheriff serve her eviction papers by Monday. But I tried reasoning with her because I knew she was young and dumb and misguided and not quite thinking clearly about what she was doing. I asked Renee once more if she had a dog and she told me she was dogsitting. I told her to have the dog removed within 24 hours or my attorney would file papers in the courts for posession of the property.

Her response.

"Bitch, I wish you would."

It was then that I walked away. Walked back to my office to notify my attorneys that I needed them to file posession paperwork STAT. What is wrong with this girl, and so many others that think the world owes them something? Thinks that everyone is against them? Girls who don't know how to have a professional conversation without getting heated and using profanity? Girls who's souls are so lost and they use the pain they are experiencing to inflict pain on others? We as Black women get pulled down every day by society and the media enough. Why do we do this to ourselves?

I have a business to protect so I have to do what I have to do. I guess Renee is just another Lost One. Chalk it up again to the game.

Tell Me Somethin Good

Mood: Anxious. Pensive.

Status: In full holiday mode. Tackling the last few gifts so I can shut the credit cards down.

Wear: Jeans and t-shirt. Just cleaned the living room so I am far from looking cute.

Hair: Two ponytails. I know. School girl chic.

Music: Common. Come Close. With Mary J.

Place: Sofa in living room. Laptop action.

Next move: Meeting with a web designer to work on getting my website up. Hella excited.

Last text I sent: It's kinda long so I don't want to type it right now. Something about tools. From Sears. Craftsman. And setting up lottery stands. I told you. You would have to be there.

To Who: Que

Random Notes: Blog is getting mad love. Thanks a million! Just downloaded Tweet Deck because my friend Lex told me it was the bomb. And she is right. Way user friendly and better than using the regular Tweet. Everything is nice and organized. Wondering what I am going to wear tomorrow. Got to go to the cleaners. Still have to make that eye appointment. I want to go see Seven Pounds. Love me some Will Smith. Who can I go with? That is a good question. I am so happy the weekend is almost upon us. This TMSG is kinda boring but that is how it goes sometime, huh?

MUAH!

My First Orgasm

As I previously blogged in another post, I did not experience my first orgasm from actual sexual intercourse until I was 25. For more on my sexual hang-ups , you can click HERE. But in the meantime, I would like to take this opportunity to discuss and share with you the musings of the first time I came during sex.  And yes, this is a true story. No fakery.

I was living in South Carolina at the time and I met a guy a few years younger than me named Amp at the local supermarket. He was tall, about 6'4 to my 5'5 frame and we hit it off instantly. There was a silent attraction between the two of us. Amp wasn't the usual type of guy that I dated during that time. I hate to say this but if I am going to keep it real, I must disclose that during that unfortunate time in my life up to that point, I dated dope boys, thugs, street villains. Big gorilla swole type nikkuhs who possibly could've been on that Barry Bonds at one point. Amp wasn't squeaky clean, don't get me wrong. He had a normal job that required a W-2 but I know he did a little somethin somethin on the side, but he was hardly a professional street pharmacist. Anyway, Amp was a skinny fella. Handsome. But I was a thick girl and I needed a dude that could pick me up and ram me and ish. A dude that worked out. But Amp wasn't in that mode. But he was attractive. And since the chemistry was off the chain, I decided to give him some.

Mind you, when I let him inside my sugar walls, I hadn't had sex for almost six months. So ya girl was ready for some action. Hot sex on a platter type of ish. So anyway, I was living with my father at the time. This was right after I was homeless (more on that later). Anywho, my dad went to sleep and I invited Amp in for a drink. My dad's guestroom was on the other side of the house so we slipped in gingerly and I locked the door behind us.

I remember letting my hands glide over his chest as I took off his shirt. He was a skinny guy but he had defined muscles on his chest and upper body. He wasn't the bird chest type, and that turned me on because I felt more confident he could handle me. His chest was smooth without an ounce of hair. I figured he shaved or whatnot. I kissed his chest while massaging it. He took off my top and unhooked my bra in one motion. My large breasts were exposed to him and pointing like headlights. He sucked the hell out of my nipples and I began to feel euphoric. It was at this time that I knew I wasn't dealing with your average Joe. He knew how to work my body slowly. And he knew where to touch and how, and the exact amount of pressure that needed to be used.

Amp had some massive bedroom game.

We made our way to the bed and he took of my jeans and then my panties. He stood back and looked at me through the moonlight which was peeking through my window. Before I reached the point of no return, I leaned over and turned on the small stereo which sat on the nightstand next to the bed so that if i got loud, Pops wouldn't hear me. Amp pryed my legs open and began eating me out. He was slow but methodic and thorough, and he worked his mouth on me something serious. I hadn't had oral action like that in my life (up until that point)!

After teasing my neenah with his tongue and almost bringing me to a climax, he slipped on the rubber that he had and turned me on my stomach. He laid on top of me rubbing his member on my ass and then entered me. Slow at first. And then harder and harder with each thrust, pulling out after every several thrusts until I begged him to put it back in.

It was then that it seemed like he picked me up and held me, his member sliding around between my legs, not fully entering me. I couldn't take it anymore and I reached for it and he threw me down and stood back.

"Is this what you want, Danni?"

I shook my head.

"I ain't hear you. Is this what you want Danni?"

"Yes! Yes, I want it!"

I didn't say nothing but a word. It was then that he got on top of me and thrusted his large dick inside of me. Say what you want about "skinny" men, but it has been my experience that they pack heat ALL DAY. So Amp was working with almost more than I could handle. It had been 6 months so it hurt like heck when he rammed it in, but after a few strokes, the pain subsided and it began to feel better and better.

Yes.

And with each stroke I got warmer and warmer and I could feel my toes tingle. I could feel everything from the inside out and I was about to errupt. He continued to enter me full force until I couldn't take it anymore and before you knew it, I felt that familiar tingle and then the tightening of my muscles as I climaxed.

It was the first time. I had an orgasm. During sex.

I felt like I could cry. But I didn't. I lay there as he got off top of me and lay beside of me out of breath himself, covered in sweat. We fell asleep for like an hour or so and then awoke back up from round two where I experienced a series of orgasms.

Amp slipped quietly out of my room in the early hours of dawn and I continued these late night trysts until I moved away to St. Louis a few months later.

That was and still is the greatest sex I ever had.

Amp and I still talk to this day. Every few weeks. We discuss our past sexual actvities with fondess, both of us wondering if we will ever meet again to pick up where we left off. You just never really know these things.