Thinking Kinky : The Nappy Haired Diva

For most, dating isn't easy (see " Dating Game (s) post). Can I be honest? I have no idea on where to begin! With each failed relationship, after sulking and licking your wounds one would hope that they have at least learned something from the experience. As much as we invest in these relationships, even after their demise we should hope to take something away from it. Whether that means that you no longer have tolerance for someone who doesn't make you happy, or finally realizing someone who only changes their underwear on special occasions may not be the right person for you... the bottom line is that you have standards. For me, standards were truly created and defined after navigating the terrain of turbulent relationships. Its not that I hadn't a clue of what I wanted in a partner, its just that a few go-rounds with the wrong person will let you know what you DON'T want in a partner. Negative experiences will often leave me far less receptive

" You know I care about you", he whined. He always seemed to whine when he was trying to persuade her. His brown eyes were wild and pleading. She didn't want to. She couldn't put a finger on why she didn't or when she would, but she just didn't. He still kept at it. What was a conversation became a debate. Every sentence said was in the form of an argument. He was stating his case. Why was he so passionate? "I'm not going to go anywhere. You know that." His frustration became apparent. He was annoyed with her for being so indecisive. He was impatient. He didn't want an answer, he wanted "the answer". She began to feel nervous. He did care for her, she knew that ... he isn't going anywhere... she knew that . Why was it so hard to give in? He finally relented with a few cuss words and turned his back to her. She felt like she upset him. Her nurturing instinct told her to make him feel better. She touched his shoulder, be

When you first quenched your thirst for the first high heels and purse that enticed you what did I do? I fell down and cried and with red rimmed eyes I asked you why and you let out a sigh and tried to console me but I refused because I wasn't used to be comforted by the enemy and when I couldn't be consoled for you the scene grew old and you became so bold to be so cold and tell me I overreacted. Later we became friends and reconciled again and then you left me for her we don't need to know her name because she is one and the same several women morphed into one and "any other woman" is her name and I cried once more and lay in a fetal position on the floor because my heart ached and ached and my spirit was sore from being broken again and your knee took a slow bend and you came down to me and you kissed my cheek and seemed to be tickled that my strong spirit could so meek all because of you Only I didn't feel tickled, I w

It all started with Black Planet. When I started college back in 2000 BlackPlanet.Com was the site to sign up to if you wanted to find singles in your area. I dated a few guys through black planet, however once I got married, I quickly forgot about it as it no longer served a purpose in my life at the time. Then, came Myspace. Everyone would ask me if I had a Myspace Page. I felt like the odd man out, gave in to the pressure and then created a Myspace Page. I soon found lots of family and friends that I hadn't seen or spoken with since childhood. I started blogging and adding music to my page. I was always checking out others pages in search of ideas on how to spruce up my own. Then, in an event that I am sure was gradual but seemed to be sudden everyone was gone. Myspace had become a virtual wasteland, all that was missing was the tumbleweed icons. Most of my friends were never online, never returning my messages, and closing their accounts. After incessant inquiry, I found that

Often in jest, I will tell people that I only do things that Lady Gaga would do. Lady Gaga being the "New Age Madonna" has caused quite a stir with her freedom of expression which is often displayed in her lyrics and fashion sense. Since she is considered "outrageous" to many, claiming to live by her rules makes for a great joke. Apparently, I am not the only one who has adopted this method of decision making. The summer months has brought myriad of fashion statements that were once considered faux-pas and now have become somewhat common place (much to my dismay). From flip flops becoming the staple of footwear, no matter how haphazard the toes of the person wearing them to halter tops that don't begin to cover the massive mounds of flesh spilling out of them people seem to be embracing freedom to express everything . Lady Gaga's hit single "Just Dance" implores the listener to get up and move no matter what the situation. The catchy beat does

I have a confession: I used to read Cosmo . Once I realized that all this magazine does is tell women what men are thinking, how to please a man in the bed room and occasionally how to increase your own pleasure in the bedroom. After some time I came to realize that these magazines target women, only inform them on how to cater to men. Something is wrong with that picture. Is there any magazine that tells men what WOMEN want? No, I am really asking. I would like to know because I would love to recommend it to a few guys I know. Chances are, they wouldn't buy it anyway. Why is it that men are so disinterested with the mind and pleasures of women while many women are still picking the brains of any man that is willing to share the trade secrets of the male gender? I feel like I am living in a world run by men! Wait, I am living in a world run by men because women are too dense to realize and assert their power over men (but I digress)... There has to come a time in your adult life t

Today, I made a major decision. I've decided to put many things to an end. According to my mother, the world is going to end in 2012 anyway (yes she is one of those who believe this). So, what do I have to lose by spending the next few years of my life by MY rules? One major thing that I finally decided to put to rest was a relationship that I have had for just about nine years. It wasn't as hard to do as I anticipated, partially because it became more and more apparent that we had reached the end of the road as we bickered and screamed at one another. Our relationship reminded me of a jazzy scat in a night club. Sometimes it was sultry, cool, funky and fun. Other times, it was unpredictable, nonsensical and overbearing. Either way, when the fat lady scats,(bee bop bip... I'm tired of this sh-t) you may have the feeling that its over, and for me... it truly is.

I decided to quit my job and go back to school. Unlike most people, my primary motivation for going back to school is not to make more money, but to finish what a started. I have embarked on numerous business ventures, books, friendships, relationships, diets (I can keep going, but I think you can get the point), only to fail because I didn't finish what I started. What's even more ridiculous is that legitimate interest has been taken with each of my "bright idea's" and I still never managed to bring my goals to the finish line. The catalyst for most of my business plans was an extreme sense of discontentment in my life. As I would wait tables, or screen applicants, or break up for what seemed like the hundredth time, I would dream of a day of doing something I actually wanted to do as opposed to what landed in my lap. Granted that at some point, most of the things I have done were what I wanted at that particular moment, however not many of them were a part of my

Mark Sinclair Vincent refuses to comment on his ethnicity. In fact he adopted the moniker Vin Diesel as a measure to further maintain his ambiguous ethnicity. It is said that he rather not be type-cast in film roles due to his race, and for that reason he opts not to disclose it. How unfortunate but true that people are often type-cast by their ethnicity. I can hardly think of one Latin actor that has broke the mold aside from Benicio Del-Torro. The same discretion is sometimes used in inter-racial relationships. Many men and women feel uncomfortable disclosing their counter-parts race if it differs from their own. I find this extremely hard to believe being that our President is bi-racial. I thought that people were over this. Sadly, its still a topic among many. A close friend of mine who is a Black American told me of her experience going on a date with a white man. She said that she received tons of sneers and snickers from black men the entire evening as they walked through the ma

Come on gals, you know as well as I know that there are about a hundred stereotypes for men when it comes to sex. I have heard all sorts of myths from black men being the most endowed to white men being the most inclined to take a trip "underground". One of the more prevalent stereotypes is that Scorpio's are by far the most sexual, and freakiest of the zodiac. I am not much of a follower of the zodiac. While I do believe that there are some characteristics that are typical of certain signs, I do not read my horoscope each day nor do I determine who I am compatible with according to when they were born. However, I have heard so much about the Scorpio that even I am wondering if there is any stock in this myth. Its almost like purchasing a lottery ticket, you know the odds but you never know unless you try... you might be a winner! Of course I am not going to walk outside and hold up a sign saying "now taking applications for Scorpio's all others need not apply

Ever been so in love that it didn't matter what that person did, you were willing to stick it out until the very end...but then the end came? The end for some can be many things. It can be that last time, he or she didn't call you back, or insulted you for the last time, or cheated for the last time, or spent the mortgage payment on their business venture for the last time. Then end is relative... what triggers one to end a relationship may be entirely different from what triggers another. I once read an excerpt from a book where a woman was getting ready for her office Christmas party and her husband who wasn't going and hadn't gone in the past twelve years laid on the bed and watched her get dressed. Finally after she was finished, he made a remark to the effect of her dress being ill fitting and failing to compliment her at all. She snapped on her pearls, said nothing and filed for divorce soon after. Everyone has a breaking point, its just hard to determine ex

I grew up in a single parent home. My mother made less than 30k per year and somehow managed to raise three children in the suburbs of Queens, NY. Looking back, I am positive that her accomplishment was no easy feat as I too struggle to raise my own two children on a salary that doesn't permit much room for emergencies or careless spending. For a time I was living the married life. I had a husband, two daughters, and a home. For much of that time, I carried the financial burden of the entire household while my spouse made numerous efffort's (with varied success) to secure his own employment. I must admit that the reasoning behind his incapability of providing or even contributing to our household was largely due to poor decision making that I was well aware of prior to our union. However upon our separation, he is still struggling and offers the bare minimum of assistance as he has little or nothing to spare in regards to time or money. When this subject is brought up amongst

As much as I would love to lie to you and tell you that I have been proudly wearing my hair natural from birth until present, I won't. The truth is that I had been nagging my mother to slather the creamy crack on my hair from about the age of eight. My mother, being a strict West Indian woman who never permed her hair in all of her sixty-plus years refused to oblige my pleas for a relaxer. Instead she would pacify me with blowouts and press and curls. It was never enough. One day of rambunctious play and my curls were no more than fuzzy has-been's, anchored by moist nappy roots, oh, and hair grease. By the time I was in eighth grade my incessant nagging finally paid off and my mother sat me down in the kitchen and applied my first relaxer. To say I was elated would have been an understatement. I felt I was finally going to be able to experience the wind blowing through my hair. I imagined my tresses trailing behind me as I ran about with my friends. The sad realization of bre