Written by ELLA
If you ever hear me pick up the phone and say, “Wassup, yo!?” it’s probably my mom. & If I’m speaking to my mom, the very last thing we’ll speak about is my “dating” situation. Nobody I know gives a damn who’s in my bed — except for Duchess.
It’s not that I don’t meet men, it’s that I meet too many. They come via whatever network will allow them to filter in. Having my phone cut off has been a blessing. I meet so many guys after I perform/model who’ll want to talk about “doing a track” or something, but when I tell them to email me, I never hear from them. When I used to give out my number, all I’d get would be “hey” messages distracting me in the middle of my work day. Now, they just tell me to check my DMs or my inbox so they can privately ask me things they don’t really care about. I’ve been thinking lately about the opportunities I don’t allow. Maybe I’m tough to get to. Maybe my expectations are too high, but… I want to be dated. I don’t want to pretend you’re interested in me so you can squeeze in conversations about how amazing you think I am, hoping to add on “in bed”. I know what you want. Enver’s little sister ain’t no dummy. So what if I’m waiting for perfect? I’ll have earned it and it’ll be worth it.
Losers never see the finish line. What would they know? Right now, as I broach a quarter century, I just haven’t gotten what I need and the issue is simply that I know what I deserve. At this point, some would say my standards are too high. They might even tell me that perfect doesn’t exist. Maybe they’ll say I’ll be alone the rest of my life. “They say there’s a shortage of Black men, but there’s a shortage of Black women, too.” CJ always says the right thing and has gotten me through the toughest of my times lately. “Either he’s blind or he’s whack,” he said of my latest run-in with lust.
I believe it’s all lust till there’s a ring on it. The same way some claim to be single if they’re not married, I feel like, I don’t love you until there’s a ring on it. It’s not the point of the ring itself, but if we’re not committing, what exactly is this for? I feel like most sh*t is a waste of time. I sat in bed last night and tried not to fantasize. I tried to be thankful for a warm bed to sleep in & realized that what people yearn for most is simple company. We just don’t want to feel alone. Luckily, Duchess refuses to sleep alone, so I never have to. Every once in a while, I’ll shut the door to my bedroom and sleep alone –I need my space –but then I realize that… that’s my b*tch. She just wants to be up under me. She loves me. She wants to be with me every night. If I sleep in late, she’ll sit still in hopes I don’t get up to leave. She hates when I go to work. That’s what love is, it’s how you want to start and end your days.
“I don’t understand how you’re single. You’re saying all the sh*t that’ll get you wifed up,” he pretended. I’d said I want a man to sit his ass down and pay the bills. I’ll cook. I’ll clean. But I don’t want to do anything else. I don’t want to work anymore. I’ve already worked far too hard. People don’t seem to understand how difficult it is to be an employed business woman with hobbies. I don’t know when I’m allowed to rest. I try, but there are so many things I’d rather do aside from the things I have to do. My life is a half mess… what I need is for someone to take care of that for me. If they can’t… we’re not going to both just look at the mess. You can go sit down somewhere. I might as well manage it on my own. Funny thing is… when a man is told he can just sit, he doesn’t want to do sh*t else either. That I can’t deal with. The point of taking the domestic things off your plate is so that you can do something else. I, personally, think women fucked up wanting to go to work. I’d sit home and raise my children. F*ck a paycheck.
The most difficult part of being me is controlling my ego: It’s huge. I’m a queen & you can’t tell me any different. I decided that God made me perfectly. The way I love God is how I should love my husband. The way God loves me is the way I deserve to be loved. I am not a perfect being by everyone’s definition, but I am perfect being myself. The man who loves me will love me exactly the way I am. In his eyes, no other will compare. Faith and devotion are particular & I’ve begun to understand it better by working on my spirituality. I’ve had to understand how I love God. I drive myself half-insane reading scripture about what a wife is for. I’ve started going to church again. I found one by my house I enjoy. I go to St. Fortunada on Linden in Brooklyn. It’s about a 5-minute walk from my house to my 12pm, sit-down-stand-up mass. I come home, take Duchess for a walk if the weather’s nice, then try to find time to clean & cook whatever I’m eating for lunch the rest of the week. (Lentil Soup coming soon!) I consider my Sundays one big work-out. & there’s the other problem: I like to cook rice, so I’d want him home. I’m only 24. Part of me wants to play wife & part of me just wants to play. I’m too far removed from the physical, but I can’t be forced to do anything. When I cook, it’s because I want to. When I clean, it’s because I want(have) to. I don’t like to have to do anything for anyone. It’s really my ego.
“It’s not time,” I told CJ. I’m not ready for a real relationship. I’m still selfish. I’m still concerned about myself. I still don’t trust n*ggas. Sometimes, I feel like I hold myself back. The rest of the time, I know it’s true. I want too much, and that means I’m not ready. What I really need is for somebody to pay this rent. Or this car note. Or these school loans. The issue is, I have too much responsibility on my shoulders to carry another –or to waste time entertaining. I’ve decided that as long as I need somebody to pay my bills, I’m better off single –unless he wants to pay them. I just feel like joining in a partnership should be beneficial in all areas. & I can’t help him out either. Right now, I can’t just do it for the love. What men fail to realize is that every dinner, every gift, ever new bra and panties set, costs money.. but I mean… if you buying groceries, I ain’t complaining. If not, I don’t have the patience. I need a buffer. I need to be able to completely ignore someone and say, “that’s not his responsibility”… otherwise, he’ll be in the house while I sing Bills, bills, bills at the top of my lungs. I know me. I’m not nice.
I currently avoid most interactions with men. I don’t think it’s safe. Most men don’t know me, they simply fall for the idea. They claim they like me, but they’re just shocked I’m an actual individual & that I speak my mind. That I don’t just agree and giggle — although I do agree & giggle. I don’t think my readers are this way… but most females are birds. *shrugs* If you don’t know what a “bird” is… I mean… scatter brain – the origin of “Chicken Head”. Pigeons. If you really want to know why I don’t look for much female company… it’s just not the kind of company I want. As sweet as most females are, they’re not nice. & they’re not concerned. & they are jealous and envious and all that. So I don’t associate. Why would I hang around so many females? I like men. I’m am actually an excellent catch, so I’m not worried. It’s just that big fish takes a lot of strength to reel in. The best fish are out in the middle of the ocean. If you want it, you’ve got to come all the way out for it. There should be no fear when you pursue me. It should be a calm interaction. I just need things to happen a certain way because if it doesn’t feel right, it simply isn’t. I’ve stopped having conversations about relationship with people in relationships… I’ve noted what’s perfect for me isn’t perfect for them… but that doesn’t make me wrong. It sure as hell doesn’t dissuade me.
I come off as stronger than I am. I worry. I doubt. I question. I ask CJ. That’s where faith comes in. Cuz then I pray… Now I’m just trying to learn to pray first. Sometimes religion or spirituality aren’t necessarily factual, but they provide guidelines so that you can live your life in the most peaceful manner. God helps me do that. I’ve just learned how to put my complete trust in Him even when I feel like He’s f*cking with me. I need to know that He loves me in the moments I feel most alone. I need to know that I’m never actually alone. I’ve come to understand that the same would apply to a husband, if things are right. I mean… just like a nun, God is your first husband. Call me crazy, but it helps me sleep at night and He wakes me each day. It is hard to trust another person, but trust is the ultimate characteristic of a positive relationship –whether friendly or romantic. Through the good and the bad. Kind of like how God tested Job, but Job remained faithful. It is the job of us all. You should be able to trust that person with your life and even the times when they let you down or test you, you need to understand it’s because they’re scared, too. “You give a hoe space and she acts up,” I explained to CJ. That’s why we need to let people roam. That’s why God gave us free will. If you want to stray, you can. If you want to leave, you can. But you will know that there is no better feeling than when you give yourself completely to Him. Grass is green everywhere… but if you know enough, you know that some places never see winter.
Everything is exactly as it seems;
Pretty pictures from a movie scene.
Damsels in distress,
Knights with courage.
Pick what you live for,
or what you die for.
No need to cry cuz,
What are the tears for?
And what is fear for?
That’s not what I’m here for.
I’m here to be the epitome of Free.