Should Auld Acquaitance Be Forgot-A Guide to New Year's Resolutions

Ahhh 2009...

I can't say that I'm sad to see you go you son of a motherless whore....

Today is the day everyone will bid you farewell, kiss someone they love (even if only for that minute) and make promises (they won't keep) about what they'll do differently in the next year, and in this case the next decade.

Why bother making them today if you're going to make the same one 364 days from now?

In the shower this morning washing of last night's hangover, I began to think that perhaps the problem is that people are making their resolutions too specific and therefore too difficult to keep.

When I studied grant writing, I learned that the broader you make your objective, the easier it becomes to obtain it. The more specific you make it, the harder it is because then the donor will be far more nitpicky in examining the details.

While there is no physical donor hovering over your life ensuring that your are spending their money appropriately, there is that nagging sense of self obligation and that awful thing so many of us try to ignore, our conscience, telling us/reminding us to do what we set out to do.

This makes people start out the new year with angst and unnecessary stress.

Why not allow the good feeling of sending off the old follow you through the year, or at least through the spring? Though 2009 sucked donkey dick cheese, I learned a lot about how to find happiness even through the more unpleasant experiences.

The easiest New Years Resolution to make is to apply the Four Agreements by Don Miguel & Don Jose Ruiz to your life.

1. Be Impeccable With Your Word.

2. Don't Take Anything Personally.

3. Don't Make Assumptions.

4. Always Do Your Best.

I'd like to add this to the Four Agreements:

Vow to Do Something Good.

Don't put a time stamp on it about making it daily, weekly, or even monthly. Just agree to do something good this year. Doing something good can be for yourself for a loved one or for a complete stranger. Just promise that you will do something good at some point. Being aware of the good around you and the good you do will make you a better person in the long run.

See? Isn't that easy? If you keep these in mind later on when you start guzzling the bubbly, they'll prolly stay in mind well past the last bell chime tonight.

More info on the Four Agreements Here: http://www.miguelruiz.com/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=6:the-four-agreements&catid=13:books&Itemid=7

The Ballad of the MANCHILD

Last weekend, when I was home in DC for a couple of days over mimosas & Mommy's gumbo, my Lil' Bro, who's had a rocky romantic path last year as well, proposed a vetting system for our upcoming significant others.

I wasn't entirely sure what he expected the vetting system to entail, but from what he described, it sounded primarily like an interview process that would-be suitors would have to endure before being deemed worthy by the family.

I have no problem grilling chicks who my brothers are dating. I was preparing to sign on for this notion in full until I realized that I WAS THE ONLY ONE who'd be participating in the vetting.

Mommy & Daddy are both remarried, Lil' Bro fell out of one relationship and into another, and Baby Bro is the EPITOME of a serial monogamist. That leaves the poor-ole-pathetic-nearing-spinster-age-divorcee-eldest daughter to bring poor schmucks to the familial house to be subjected to grilling by my over 6' tall brothers(one of whom is en route to being commissioned as a marine officer), my Reverend Step Daddy, & take no shorts (even though she is short) mom.

AWESOME

For most people, this vetting process would not be such an ordeal. The idea of bringing home BFs to the fam for the obligatory meet & greet would seem the natural progression in the dating game. For me, this is an awful idea because

I HAVE AWFUL TASTE IN MEN

I can say this with confidence because looking back over my track record, yeah the dudes have done some dumbdumb insentive, thoughtless, disrespectful things, but people will only do to you what you allow them to do, right? So after a while, you're forced to wonder,

How much of this is my fault?

I'm going to take the onus and say that pretty damn much all of it is my fault because I have an uncanny knack of falling for the MANCHILD over and over and over again.

Mind you, this is not the same MANCHILD I keep dating, but it may as well be. I pick the same man over and over and over again in different skin, garb and profession, but he's the same dude through and through.

What's a MANCHILD? You ask?

Sure, I'll put you on.

A MANCHILD is a grown man for all intents and purposes who refuses to fully grow up. What I mean is that his calendar age by no means matches his behavior and attitude towards life. Like, the dudes I date are all Lost Boys.

No, not the Corey Haim 1987 Vampire Movie and no, not MCs from Queens.

I keep dating the Black Peter Pan over and over again. #noMJ

Through my willing suspension of disbelief I exist happily in Never Never Land with him, until I remember my age and what I want outta life and have to get the hell outta dodge, until I meet another fella who doesn't wanna grow up and the whole thing starts all over again.

Why do I subject myself to this foolishness, you ask?

Because I'm a glutton for punishment, I suppose.

The real reason I keep dating the MANCHILD over and over and over again is 'cause I like to think of myself as a creative and unfortunately I have yet to meet a GROWN MAN who is also a creative.

In order to fully grow up, you have to stop believing in the possibility of earning a living through your art, your craft. You have to give up hope and be practical. It's like being creative/artsy renders you an idiot savant unable to be fully mature, but just mature enough to pass as a grown up.

Creativity has become an emotional fake ID. You can pass for a GROWN MAN but eventually the emotional bouncers'll kick you out of the club.

Don't get me wrong, I have had the opportunity to go on a date or two with a GROWN MAN.

I would be lying if I said it was pleasant.

Once, I was actually so bored out of my mind as he discussed the issues affiliated with the myriad of paperwork he had to complete in detail to be successful enough to move up from their shared cubicle to a private one, I ended up imagining a tryst with our waiter while he talked.

My parents would be so proud.

What gives?

What is it about men who possess any level of creativity that renders it impossible to have a normally progressing relationship?

What is it about me that I can't shake my level of addiction/attraction to them?

Hello. My name is Lauren, and I'm a MANCHILDaholic.

Vexed though I am about the situation, I'm not sure that my addiction is one I'm ready to kick. Seriously, I've found myself feenin' for a fix of a MANCHILD's attention, shallow, incomplete, and inconsistent though it is.

There have been days when I've cried myself into a panic attack behind some MANCHILD's actions, sobbed myself silly, and gasped for air wishing that I could escape the addiction that kept putting me in emotional harm's way. Their selfishness is the deepest thing about them. it knows no bounds....

Yet and still, I will almost always choose the MANCHILD over the GROWN MAN. Unless I am able to find the unicorn that is a GROWN MAN who embraces the creative. I suppose I am a glutton for punishment. As this year and decade draws to a close, I wish that I could say I plan on swearing them off completely.

Le sigh...

Maybe I'll start a support group.

SMOOCHES!!!

SHINE ON!!!

That that don't kill me....

The older I get, the more I learn.

It isn’t about the experiences in life that shape you.

It’s how you deal with the adversity of them that measures the kind of person you are to become.

Do you allow life’s challenges to knock you down and stay down, or do you take it on the chin, reassess and stand up to face another day?

In the last calendar year, I have been at what I believed to be my breaking point more times than I feel like I’ve had sunny days. Though usually, I’ve had it better than most, this year was an exception to that rule. There were days I ached soo much I don’t know how I found the time to make my lungs work to breathe. I did keep breathing, even in those instances when I wished I wasn’t.

Life comes at you, so hard and fast sometimes that you feel like you’ve been shot by the fates. When one truly masters resilience, then you can take those shots and, though sometimes hurt by them, stand up to take another.

This year, I have learned the beauty in falling down and learning to get back up ON MY OWN.

This year, I have learned that I own an emotional fortitude that if funneled correctly, could knock down buildings.

It didn't matter how many times my circle of friends told me everything was going to be alright, until i felt it, it wasn't.

Eager though I am for this never ending year of personal trials and tribulations to be over, I am grateful to have lived through it. The strength I’ve drawn from within comes, in part from the love I am surrounded by.

Though I have been blessed with the most awesome support system a girl could ask for in her family and friends, this year I have learned the most important lesson I can:

No one can hold me up as strongly as I can.

There is no hubris in this statement. I know that the fanatic theologians will take issue with my discovery.

I am not touting myself as the greatest woman who ever walked the face of the earth and listing the myriad of reasons why. I am merely stating that as blessed as my life has been, I didn’t embrace the love, beauty, joy and happiness fully until I found it within.

Find the love and the strength and the joy within and embrace it. It can carry you through everything and anything life hurls your way.

SMOOCHES!!!

SHINE ON!!!!

Sharing with Boys

SATC (Sex and the City for the uninitiated) is a self proclaimed love letter to the city that never sleeps.

On a good day, it's easy to see why so many people so often fall in love in and with the Big Apple; there's sooooo many things to do and places to see.

But what happens when you've shared those things and places with someone you're no longer with?

2 Mondays ago, I was on my way to a networking function near Union Square. I was all purdied up, head held high, happy and truly comfortable in my skin. As I walked to the venue, I had to stop abruptly. Nothing was physically wrong. I had everything I needed, (purse, wallet, phone, etc.) to proceed.

I had to stop because I'd been there before. I was standing in front of the venue where I was when the ex and I had that final nail-in-the-coffin conversation that ended us and we decided to separate.

I was officially at one of the stops on the historic and often uncomfortable 'Me & My Ex Walking Tour.'

You ever been on one of those?

No?

Then you, my dear viewer are either happily reveling in a relationship with your HS sweetheart, miserable STILL by yourself, or dating someone who takes you to the same Steak & Shake when y'all want some fine dining. Whatever your status, consider yourself fortunate.

No matter how calm, cool, and collected you are about whatever happened in your last situation, there's always that montage of a memory that flickers across your mind before you brush it off.

Walking tours on the whole are usually too long and kinda sucky. Walking tours of this variety REALLY suck.

In the early years, the ex and I used to do A LOT of fun, cool, romantic things. Thursdays, we'd basically open up Time Out New York Magazine or go online to NYMAG.com and plan our weekend's events based on whatever was popping in the city. We did a few museums, street festivals, countless restaurants and lounges, we even went to the ballet, once. In the early years, he more than made up for his mercurial temper by putting in all the needed time and attention a boyfriend-fiance-husband was supposed to.

As the relationship progressed, most of these outings were pockmarked by our LEGENDARY verbal sparring matches/temper tantrums. Publicly, much to my embarrassment, we often suffered from what my mother calls "2 Fussy Babies in a Playpen" syndrome; one or both of us would get cranky and overreact about something trivial and instead of voicing it like an adult, we, (usually he) would lash out and the pleasant outing would be ruined.

Make no mistake. This post is NOT me waxing poetic about the days that were.

The sucky thing about these landmarks in a failed relationship is that these perfectly cool/interesting/fascinating places are tainted by the bullshit mental thing that is the ghosts of relationships past. I've found that there were/are a couple of locales I avoided because of the possible discomfort I worried they would cause.

As if eating at a certain restaurant I would be faced with an ectoplasmic reincarnation of the argument and the hurt feelings I last encountered there. I know I'm not the only one that this happens to, especially in NY where nearly everyone is a transplant trying desperately to take the city by storm.

In NYC, ordinary people become Columbus eager to discover the new hotness/restaurant/discount to regale to their friends.

The Doll wouldn't share this anecdote with you if there weren't a teachable moment deeply embedded within.

I've decided to recreate my tour.

No, no, no dear heart. I shan't be on any ex-to-the-next foolery.

The next time a friend asks for a suggestion about where to go or what to do, I'm going to pick a spot off of my walking tour. I am going to replace the sadness I feel for those two people we once were, trying soooo hard to fight the fussy baby syndrome instead of cutting our losses and moving on before too much injury was done to one another. I'm moving on with the joy.

After all, when I hang out with my friends who genuinely love me and want to be around me

I feel like I've discovered something greater than a brunch spot with bottomless mimosas.

MORAL OF THE STORY

Fight sadness with ♥.

Don't save good date places for a special occasion like your mother saves her

good china. Every day is a special occasion. Make them count by surrounding

yourself with friends, going out for a good laugh, and have a grand ole time.

SMOOCHES!!!

SHINE ON!!!

Looking a Gift Horse in the Mouth

I hope that everyone had a happy and joyous holiday yesterday with the one(s) you love.

I read a tweet yesterday from @jstreete about some chick who received a diamond tennis bracelet from her boyfriend as a Christmas gift. How lovely.

This broad, upon opening her gift, promptly told her boyfriend to TAKE IT BACK because she doesn't like or wear bracelets. How dreadful.

Instead of snatching his gift back and storming away from this child in woman's body, he asked what she would like instead, and assured her he would exchange it today.

What a resthaven for hoes...

While there is no explanation or justification for such selfish and insensitive behavior, I could understand if the BF had given this brat a PROBLEM gift.

A bracelet is not a PROBLEM gift.

But some of the swag you got from your family or significant other yesterday are PROBLEM gifts.

Nervously, you're probably thinking,

"Lauren, what's a PROBLEM gift?"

A problem gift is a present that has superstitious or urban legend stigmas attached to it. Tragically, many of you probably received gifts yesterday and didn't even know it. Have no fear, there are some remedies to remove the bad Juju from PROBLEM gifts that doesn't require you going to the Botanica or to go and see the Shadow Man.

Sit back and allow Mother to explain.

MOTHER LAUREN'S PROBLEM GIFT LIST

1. A watch, clock, or anything else that tells/conveys time. If you have received or given one of these gifts, it means either that the time in your relationship is running out, or the person you're giving it to is running out of time to live....

Sorry....no remedy for this one.

2. Shoes. If you give someone shoes, they will either use them to walk all over you, your heart, or to walk out of your life.

Have no fear, there is a way to undo this Juju.:

If given or received shoes, the recipient must give the giver a small amount of money in exchange.

3. A wallet or a purse, with nothing inside. If you give or receive an empty wallet or purse, then the giver is wishing poverty on you without even knowing it.

If you give a purse or wallet, include a small amount of money. This flips the gift from wishing someone poverty, to wishing them wealth. Easy fix. If the giver doesn't include any money in the wallet/purse, regift it to someone else WITH money included.

4. Knives, swords, scissors, or any other sharp object. This means you're cutting the relationship off or cutting the person out of your heart. The also send sharp or harsh energy to the giver.

Allegedly, giving $, even a penny, can neutralize the bad luck of this gift. This transforms the gift from a gift to a purchase, but I wouldn't chance it.

5. Long stemmed, thorn-in roses cause the relationship to suffer.

Either gift red roses with no thorns, or give a different color.

6. Underwear is also not a good idea to give someone. They will wear it when screwing the next person.

I've never heard of a fix for this PROBLEM gift. Sorry.

7. Handkerchiefs. Traditionally, they are for wiping tears or sweat away. These also indicate that you think the recipient will either be crying heavily in the future or they will be so frustrated they will be sweating without ceasing.

This is another $ fix gift. Give the person a penny upon receiving the gift and the sadness and frustration will disappear.

I hope I didn't ruin Christmas for any of you. But better that you hear it from Mother now, rather than discover any of these bad luck things to come true later in life after receiving the gifts on this list. For those of you who feel that there is no truth to these myths/superstitions, i offer you this:

THE EX BOUGHT ALL OF THESE GIFTS FOR ME.

If that don't convince you, I don't know what will. LOL

Happy Holidays!

SMOOCHES!!!!

SHINE ON!!!!

1 person's screwing is another 1's lovemaking

My holiday gift to you is the gift of sex (however you like it) without remorse.

She's at it again....

My friend Mona, with her happy snuggly cohabitational relationship with a slightly-unworthy-yet-extremely-sweet dullard of a BF, has changed my perspective and enlightened me on something AGAIN.

We were at lunch earlier today and Mona, Erika and Basquiat and I were chatting about the difference between love making and, (sorry mom) fucking.

I just read the article on Naked With Socks On

http://www.nakedwithsockson.com/2009/12/23/do-you-like-it-rough/

in which Marlee Mickens expresses her newfound adoration for screwing her BF as opposed to making love with him. I felt like the piece was of those times when one lone chick voices what so many have said and believed for so long.

It's no secret that some ladies like it rough.

Problem is, as girls, we're programmed to believe that only sucias like it that way and that sweet girls, something we should all aspire to be, should moan quietly into our pillows as we lay on our backs and allow our mate to "do his business," then get up to make him breakfast in lingerie w/perfectly coifed hair afterwards.

Surely a man can not put it down in the bedroom and still be sweet afterwards.

We shudder, literally, at the thought....

Balancing the desire to want aggressive bedroom boogies and an attentive, passionate, sensitive lover who regards you with respect is as mythological for some women as encountering the mighty O, not Oprah.

It is yet another conflicting persona in a long list that chicas of the modern world have to embrace.

How does one successfully be a lady in the streets & a freak in the bed and then not feel like a freak afterwards?

Basquiat doesn't have this to worry about because the standards are not the same for men, not even for gay men. Erika doesn't care about what someone thinks of her because essentially, in her core, she thinks and acts like a man and oddly enough, ends up getting the same amount of respect and treatment that most successful, confident men get.

That leaves me, the new millenium nun, and Mona, the serial monogamist to be weigh in on this sexual dichotomy.

Mona, sage woman that she is, had this to say on the subject:

"No one can make you feel like anything. The only one with that much power over you is you. If you feel comfortable enough about the two of you to offer him your body, you should be comfortable enough with him to let him know how you want it handled. I make love to my boo every time we do the do because I love him and he loves me. Our acts of submission/aggression/whatever-the-mood-requires in the nude is our act of love. It can't be cheap and common if what pulls you together is priceless."

If what pulls you together is priceless, let it pull you together in all of the sordid ways the two of you can imagine. Yodel his name while wrestling in egg nog if it suits you and know that you can hold your head high and walk crookedly/sorely with confidence afterwards.

HAPPY HOLIDAYS!!!!

SMOOCHES!!!

SHINE ON!!!

I Will Be Your Father Figure: Daddy Issues

I say “My life for your edutainment,” and “Mother has lived!!!” because both statements are certifiably true for my life. I don’t withhold, even when I probably should. I share because I know that if I have survived it, it has given me yet another lens for me to regard the world through. Suffering should not be a right of passage. I don’t believe that because I’ve had to go through things, others should have to go through them too to understand life better. If I believed that, I wouldn’t be the pedagogue I am.

This post has been on my mind for quite a while and I don’t entirely know how to make it pretty. If it reads like a train of consciousness, it’s probably because it is…

I, like many women of my generation, have “Daddy Issues.”

My issues don’t stem from being abandoned by my Dad, or because he didn’t provide for us growing up, nor did he abuse me or any substances. Other than getting divorced from my mother on paper, my Daddy was an ideal father.

He made all of the obligatory appearances at special performances.

He’d go with my mother to Parent-Teacher Conferences.

He made pancakes when I would have a slumber party.

He even did a couple of stints as the president of the PTA at the various schools I attended.

My Daddy did everything to appear to be the ideal father.

So, why do I have Daddy Issues?

My Daddy is depressed.

Depression is not the trite and overused expression that teens toss around to express their boredom or dissatisfaction with their adolescent emotional turmoil.

My Daddy suffers from clinical depression.

At my age, I now understand the condition way better than I once did

There was something "wrong" with our relationship for years, but as I was a child, I thought there was something "wrong" with me. It wasn’t until my parents separated and we all started to go to family counseling, that my dad came to grips with the turmoil he’d been living with his entire life.

My Daddy is depressed.

Thing about having a parent who is depressed is you’re never sure which version of your parent you’re going to be faced with in encounters.

His mannerisms are often erratic.

His moods are beyond inconsistent.

His emotional reactions to situations are often not in sync.

I love my Daddy, I really do, but I’ve learned over the years that I’m never quite sure if I love my daddy for who he is or for the idea of what my daddy should be.

My father has been on medication for 18 years.

He has tried talk therapy, hypnotists, some inconsistent diet changes.

When he has a good spell, (ie: he’s getting enough rest, life isn’t particularly stressful, work is coming in, and he’s on a regular dosage of his medication) he enjoys life, he’s an excellent conversationalist, and he can be so charming that he draws people to him; he makes you want to be around him and bask in his stories and accomplishments. He is productive and focused and has been able to have a very successful and trailblazing career because of it.

On an upswing, my Daddy is magnetic.

When he’s going through a bad spell, it makes you ache, physically, to be around him. He sleeps for days on end, is prone to swing from anger to sadness to ennui to meanness, he repeats himself frequently, (in part due to some memory loss caused by head trauma from a car accident in the 80s) and he can be a bit of a hypercondriac. As this Daddy use to take the driver’s seat more than the upbeat Daddy, when I went away to undergrad, it became easier to limit my interactions and correspondences with him for fear of what he may spew if I didn’t say or do exactly what he wanted me to.

Make no mistake, he is ALWAYS productive and focused on his work. He's just unpleasant to be around.

When my Daddy’s on an upswing, I LOVE hanging out with him. He’s so funny and witty, though extremely bossy, (I come by it genetically)and I feel every bit the Daddy’s girl that I am. When his mood is good, I have no doubts in my mind how much I love my Daddy.

He’s rarely that Daddy for very long.

It wasn’t until recent years that I began to understand how little control he had over his emotions and moods.

If you have no experience loving someone who is mentally ill, think of it like this:

It is like constantly living on the hottest day in the summer while everyone else is has an Olympic sized pool to swim in and all you have is one of those small kiddie pools you can buy at Toys R Us; it’ll cool you off a little, but it isn’t as refreshing as being able to submerge your whole body.

The person you love is there, and you know that they love you, but it isn’t as immersive a love as the love others get.

Last fall, we found out my Daddy had prostate cancer. It was caught in the very early stages and according to his doctors, it was treated and pushed into remission. I knew that his depression would be a greater problem now that he has this physical medical condition as well.

Knowing that the sands in his hourglass are moving through a little bit faster has caused me to try and reach out to him with a greater frequency and to try and patch over the strained places in our relationship.

I call my Daddy more often now just to make small talk. I try to ignore his moods and draw him into conversations that I think would brighten his day.

I do it for both of us.

When I talk to him, he sounds distracted or barely listening as if he has a million other things he would rather be doing than talking to me. I have learned not to take it personally. It’s not that he is not listening in as much as he has many thoughts going on in his head to listen to. I continue to reach out to him because I don’t want to ever feel like I didn’t do everything I possibly could to facilitate a relationship between us.

Why do I write this?

My Daddy Issues have definitely bled over into my personal life. As those of you who are avid readers know, I have a hyperactive wife/mother gene that makes me in many ways an ideal mate for those I may find myself in a relationship with. My Daddy Issues cause me to stick around in relationships far longer than I should, make ridiculous numbers of excuses for my significant other, and work harder on supporting and nurturing him than he is reciprocating for me.

Why? ‘Cause I can’t help or heal my Daddy, so I funnel my desire to do so into the attention and affection I lavish upon my mates, often with disastrous results.

I hear too many people talk about issues they’re chronically having. Though I’m not a medical professional, upon learning the beast I was up against in my father’s mind, I read everything I could to better equip myself for the life ahead. This said, I see the similarities between my Daddy and others. GO TALK TO SOMEONE!!!!!

When my Daddy was growing up, there were few to no options for people with mental illness. At best, they may have offered him EST (electro shock therapy.) At worst, they would have tried to lobotomize him to improve/level his moods, or put him in some awful home with abusive orderlies. With options like that, is it any wonder that he tried to just muscle through it and do the best he could?

Today, there are soooo many advances in mental health care. No one grown should live in mental misery. Whether it is talk therapy, a change in diet/fitness, or medication, GET HELP!!!

Acknowledging that something doesn’t feel right is not indulgent nor is it a luxury. It is a necessary evil for your mental HEALTH just as getting physicals and regular dental cleanings.

If you notice that your interpersonal relationships crash and burn as though you are reading from the same script over and over and over again, be responsible and take ownership of the fact that on some level, it is you that is causing these rifts.

Don’t wait until you’re the parent of a nearly grown child before you start to get help.

Don’t wait until you find yourself staring at the overly sterile walls of a psychiatric ward to get help.

Don’t wait until you’re eyeballing bottles of pills before you get help.

Take care of yourselves COMPLETELY and you’ll find that you and those you love will be much happier all around.

SMOOCHES!!

SHINE ON!!!!

For more information about how to be supportive of a friend or family member with depression, check the following sites:

http://depression.about.com/od/seekinghelp/tp/relationships.htm

http://familyaware.org/depression/options.php

http://www.mayoclinic.com/health/depression/MH00016

AWKWARD!!!

Dear Lauren,

Since "Mother has lived," maybe you cld help me out with a problem I'm having.

What happens when your yesterdays know and hang out w/your today? Do you say something? Do u wait for him to say something?

Lemme give u some background info. I'm what some may call an industry chick. Not because I hang around industry dudes, but bc I earn my living working in the music industry & have done so for quite a while in many capacities. Some may say I'm a hustler, and through this met lots of ppl. Many of them became men I carried on w/intimately & some even romantically.
Fast forward to the present.

I'm now more settled in my ways and looking for someone to spend time with. I found it in a friend I'd over looked for years who works in the industry too. His job, as a manager requires way more travel than mine, but when we can manage it, we try to be in the same city and around each other as much as possible.

Hanging out in the same city has made me painfully aware of how many of my former flames & bed warmers are folks he'd call his boys. I don't know that I can tell him, nor do I know that I can manage to avert my eyes everytime we bump into someone who has seen my "Oh" face.

Today was the worst! We saw someone I slept with once, 7 or so years ago and HE KNEW MY BOO. I knew they knew each other, 'cause I saw they were facebook friends. I had just hoped above hope that a time would never come where we'd bump into each other. Well we did, and I did everything in my power to stay engrossed in a convo w/a video vixen so as not to get pulled into the awkward situation that was sure to unravel before me.

What do I do? The more time we spend, the more I adore him and the more likely we are to bump into more of the skeletons from my closet. What should I do?

Have I become NYC's Danger aka Smashed the Homies?....I'll wait for your reply as I watch this week's episode of for the ♥ of Ray-J.
-Janet, aka NYC's Smashed the Homies

Dear Janet,
To quote the characature of Sadaam Hussein in the South Park Movie,

"What's the big fucking deal, bitch?"

I say that with nothing but ♥.

First, turn off that Ray-J foolishness unless you're trying to find more shenanigans you shouldn't do to add to your repetoire.

Second, did you tell your current FRIEND that you were a virgin before you met?

No? Then,

"What's the big fucking deal, bitch?"

People meet potential mates in the work place &/or at work related events. Your work place is a little less traditional & filled w/ppl with the attention span of a fruit fly, the income and attitude of the nouveau barely riche, the work hours/schedule of a field hand, and the libido of a 14 year old boy.

If you're even halfway decent looking, it's no wonder the relationships and dick dealers are so plentiful.

You're not doing anything different from what White Hollywood has been doing for years.

Congratulations, you just screwed your way through a glass ceiling!

The ex used to tell me he didn't want to travel anywhere I used to live or go to any functions where we might meet or bump into anyone I'd ever dated before even AFTER we'd said 'I do.'

When I regaled this to one of my homies recently, he said,

"Dude's tripping. I wlda had u on my arm and shook everyone's hand like 'Yup. This is MY wife.' At the end of the day, who gives a damn what happened before? You chose HIM. If he doesn't want that to happen, he should date somebody no one else wants."

Skip to 'bout 1:50 mark.....I'm not saying it's gotta be like this but....

You chose him.

That should be all the proof he needs.

Now hopefully the yesterdays have enough sense to handle the situation like some gentlemen...

For all you know, your new boo could be of the same mindset as my homeboy & actually be amused by dudes breaking their necks to ☑ you out. After all, that's a testament to HIS flyness as well as yours.

To answer your question about what should you do, not a goddamned thing.

He'll only know if you or dude tells him. You gain NOTHING from telling him other than that phony sense of relief people get when they tell a truth that is better left unspoken.

If dude tells him, and he asks you, tell him the modified truth:

Y'all hung out for a spell, but nothing came of it.

If you're not asking for an itemized list of everyone he ever slept with including frequency & length of the "relationship," then he doesn't need to ask you about yours.

By no means am I advocating dishonesty between you and your beau. Don't go start trying to carry on other relationships all quietly and secretly and say it's cause Lauren told you to tell "the modified truth."

I'm just saying that over all my years of living and learning, I've learned that a certain air of mystery is good for a relationship.

I'll leave you with this just 'cause I love The Mack:

SMOOCHES

SHINE ON!!!

BAD LUCK CHUCK

some guys have all the luck. some guys have all the pain. some guys get all the breaks. some guys do nothing but complain. -Rod Stewart

I friggin LOVE Erika. I think that quietly and secretly, she may be my muse, no lesbo. Whenever I am at a loss for what to write about, she comes outta nowhere with some fantastic bizarity that is her life.

When last you heard from her, she and Adonis were happily humping away. She’d grown used to his snuggling tendencies and didn’t mind so much that he dressed like my students. She wasn’t keeping him around for his attire.

After the last cozy moment with him, she’d had the all important “What are we doing?” conversation, well text exchange with him, and it had gone surprisingly well.

Don’t get it twisted.

Erika has not deviated from her original plan. She wanted to make sure his FOINE but sensitive ass wasn’t interpreting the snuggling as anything more than post coitus comfort. He was her jumpoff, nothing more.

Basically she told him she only wanted him for his body & not to go catching any feelings.

“I like kicking it with you, but I’m not looking for much more than what we’re already doing. You cool with that?”

I’m sure he was. Quietly and secretly, what dude wouldn’t be?

A fly, smart, funny chick who loves to play all sorts of reindeer games in the bedroom and doesn’t care if you’re playing them with Donner, Dasher, Bonner & Blitzen? (Sorry, I’m in the holiday spirit.) Who wouldn’t want a hassle free relationship?

He came from a decent, though large, family and worked a decent, though low paying job, he led an ordinary, though mundane, existence. Adonis was a regular guy leading a regular life who just happened to be absolutely GORGEOUS and enjoy sex as much as Erika does.

Erika was happy. Adonis was wonderful. I know this because of the FAAAAARRR too detailed stories she would recount, and sometimes even act out for me. Have I mentioned yet that my writer friends overshare?

Then something happened….

Erika realized that Adonis had really awful, awful luck. She started referring to him as Bad Luck Chuck when she would talk to me about him.

In the space of 2 months:

His phone became corrupted and he lost all of his contacts.

His car needed a new engine and a new transmission.

He had a strange medical condition that required minor surgery and then that he be hospitalized for over a week for observations and take a series of medications.

No, he didn’t have the Willy Lumplump.

Because he was in the hospital for a while, he lost his job. One of them. He actually had 4. You’d think with that many jobs he wouldn’t have time for anything else.

His grandmother, that he lived with and who had been his child care for his son, decided to move back to Grenada meaning he now needed to find someone/something to help cover the rent & needed reliable child care.

As a result of all this rotten luck, Adonis got very depressed, rightfully so, and wanted to spend more time with Erika to cheer himself up.

Ordinarily, this would be an awesome thing in the progression of a relationship. A man finds the woman he’s been soiling sheets with amazing and wants to be around her more and more.

I find it important to relay to you that Erika is EXTREMELY superstitious. She’s that girl you’ll see NEVER splitting the pole, NEVER steps on a crack, picks up every coin she finds on the ground, but only if it is heads up, she throws salt even if only a pinch was spilled…you get the idea.

In spite of this initially, Erika enjoyed cheering him up, over and over and over again. She was willing to adapt her personality quirks for the possibility of happiness with this not-so-fortunate individual. Correction: she loved cheering him up in person. On the phone, notsomuch.

Adonis started to call Erika to TALK.

I should let you know that they NEVER talked on the phone before his rotten luck set in. They had communicated solely via text, Facebook, and occasionally an email here and there, but that was reserved for sending freaky pics to one another (him, not her; no Rih Rih for my homie!)

And he wanted to talk FOR HOURS a few times a day.

He wanted to talk about life and talk about the time they spent.

He wanted to spend more time with her.

He wanted to know about her hopes and her dreams.

He wanted to be her boyfriend.

He, like so many others before him was enraptured with Erika.

She’d nicknamed her chocha the DUNGEON because it’s dark, dank, and dudes fall prisoner to her cooch. I wish I was making this up.

Adonis sent her an email two weeks ago, followed by a series of texts, and five phone calls. None of which she replied to.

Erika could not combat her superstitious nature, nor someone who ignored what she wanted and had rotten luck and she promptly lost interest.

Oh Adonis…..Poor, poor, sweet, sexy ass hell Adonis.

(No really, she’s shown me pics on his Facebook page. Whoooooeeeeee!!!!! unhunhuUNH i'd take a spoonful of him to make the medicine go down! Would it be wrong if I….nevermind.)

Before y’all verbally crucify Erika, she is psychotically superstitious. When I asked her why she cut him off. She said,

“I had to. That type of bad luck is infectious, like the chicken pox. I couldn’t run the risk of catching the disease.”

This is kinda like the tale of Basquiat and Michel, and also like Carlos and his stalker.

Once you get to be grown, you have to accept and give people what it is they ask for, even if it's not what you want.

If they change their minds and want something different, let them communicate that to you. You can’t steer their desires anymore than they can steer yours. Be clear about what you want before you go seeking it from another.

Seriously though, how long do I have to wait before I could holla at Adonis? I kid, I kid... Pssst... Adonis, I'm here for you...

Smooches!!!!

SHINE ON!!!!