Sassy, Spicy, and Single

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Following is an excerpt from my first book. This particular chapter focuses on the importance of  pursuing and living your best single girl life with sass and spice (insert wink here).

Chapter 4: You’re accepting the breakup as a lesson learned, an opportunity for personal growth, a blessing in disguise, You’re living life in the Single Lane. But that’s no excuse to be bland. It’s only an excuse to regain or even better…upgrade your sassy and your spicy.

Sassy: Lively, bold, and full of spirit.

Spicy: Exciting! Flavorful!

Fun Is Necessary!

Being single and miserable, or miserably single, should not be your adopted style of choice…not ever! Singlehood is a time to make your life as flavorful as possible, Have fun–and loads of it. Fun can and must be had in a variety of ways. Hanging out with your family, having slumber parties with your besties, salsa dancing, and paint parties are just a few examples of how to keep fun and flavorful times in your life. Who said you had to be a certified event planner to act as one? Keep your calendar filled with awesome activities and exciting events.

Consider hosting movie nights, game nights, and taco and guacamole nights. You and your besties can rotate planning and hosting events. Events can be potluck styled so your pockets are not worn thin in the name of having a good time. Send out cutesy Evites for your sassy, spciy, and single slumber parties, spa dates, or mani-pedi dates. Bring an amazing attitude and a bright smile to each and every event. Keep your camera phone close by so you can capture your sassy and spicy moments. Your goal is to have loads of fun and loads of laughs and loads of spice and loads of sass!

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You Gotta Have Some Goals!

In addition to being a girl who just wants to have fun, chase new experiences and opportunities so you can gain new perspectives on yourself and the world around you. Travel. Visit places–near and far–you’ve always wanted to venture to. Take thousands of pictures while you’re visiting so you can relive your wonderful experiences over and over again. What else have you always wanted to do but failed to find the time, energy, or courage to? Start a polish line? Attend a painting class? Pole dancing? Zumba? Skydiving? Snorkeling? Write a book? Start a business? Enroll in cosmetology school? You’re operating in “Me Zone” now. Me Zone affords you the luxury and pleasure of being and doing you. This is the perfect time to embark on a deliberate pursuit of what (all) you want. Just go for it…whatever “it” may be.

I hope you enjoyed this excerpt from the book Boy Bye!  Click to preview (and or purchase ) more of this selection.

 

 

 

 

 

Lavender Lemonade

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Hey Girls Hey!!! Lavender Lemonade will be available SO soon! I’m so excited I wanted to share a sneak preview with you today. Meet Deja, Nia, and Tish–three friends who are hungry for love.  The friends find themselves desperately desiring and willing to do anything for love, as many (Shiiiiid! ALL ) of us can relate to. But as we all know, that shit gets real tricky, can be quite disappointing, and is oftentimes an open invitation for settling. Tish, Deja, and Nia learn the hard way that something as precious as real love and true commitment cant be forced, rushed, or mocked. However, the most meaningful lesson these three friends learn is that loving yourself first is the golden key that unlocks the door to living your biggest, fullest, and happiest life.

Deja…

But Tage wasn’t just any man to Deja. She genuinely wanted him to be her man. She saw herself marrying and carrying babies for him. And although their “connection-ship” provided her plenty of room for desire, Deja was too wrapped up in the moment, too wrapped up in the possibilities, too wrapped up in being someone special to someone (to anyone), too wrapped up in maybe one day, too wrapped up into him to demand (gently request) more. Deep down she knew she wanted more (exclusivity, commitment, a title), figured she probably deserved more out of a “relationship” but fear of losing the little she did have with Tage paralyzed her from rocking the boat. So for the last two years (and counting), she settled (slummed) for their bi-monthly Netflix and Chill themed play dates.

Nia…

During their last talk, Raheem fed Nia enough lines to keep her in tow for another year and a half, sans proposal and ring. And considering all the time already invested, her cake candles count, the dismal dating scene her single girlfriends were always crying over, Nia elected to hang in there a little longer, hoping that one day, one month, one year this man would finally stop hazing her and officially initiate her into The First Wives Club. During that year and a half, Nia remained hopeful. She also put her desires on the backburner, bit her tongue, refused to make mention of anything related to marriage. She consoled herself by focusing on how lucky she was to even have a man at all with all these single girls out here trying to get what she already had. Things may not be perfect. He may not be forthcoming with his intentions to marry me (or not), but at least I have a man, she would tell herself (while trying to convince herself).

However, Nia started to notice a recent shift in her attitude toward Raheem and their relationship. The closer she got to 35, the less lucky, the less satisfied she found herself feeling about her role as The Possible Forever Girlfriend. It was becoming more and more difficult to convince herself that she wasn’t being strung along, that she should just be happy with what she had (even though she wanted more).   Nia was growing tired of the same-old-same-old. She was ready for a change.

Tish…

Their arrangement was quite exhilarating for Tish in the beginning. She was single. Had no one to answer to. Wasn’t in need of being taken care of financially. Could do whatever she pleased. And at the time, unattached, casual, fun sex with a guy who knew his way around the bedroom was exactly what she pleased. But of late, she honestly didn’t know how much longer she’d be able to play the Young, Wild, Free, and Having Way Too Much Fun card. It was increasingly becoming less and less thrilling. Tish found herself trying to calculate, exactly, what was so exciting about a man only enjoying and appreciating her for her physical offerings quite often lately.

Tish wasn’t particularly interested in a relationship with Dray, to be honest. He didn’t seem to possess the qualities she deemed admirable in a man, like trustworthiness, loyalty, self-discipline, honesty, reliability, and selflessness.Nonetheless, she was secretly becoming more and more irritated by the fact Dray could lay up with her week after week, month after month, and not see her, really see her. That he could not take notice of and appreciate all the many things she had to offer besides sex. Their sexual trysts were becoming emotionally and spiritually draining.   Their “arrangement” was starting to no longer align with her spirit and thinking–I am so much more than this. I deserve more than this.

Stay tuned to find out what happens next with Deja, Nia, and Tish…

As always, thank you so kindly for  stopping by and taking a sneak peek into my first novelette. More information on its release date, availability, and sneak peeks coming soon (like next week soon)!

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Fun Fact! My friends and I are the cover models for Lavender Lemonade. After the artist flaked my friends came to the rescue.

 

 

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                                                        After the City Center “photo shoot” we got our passports stamped…

 

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Then we enjoyed sweet, cold, and tasty treats.    

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My Father Taught Me…

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Me and Pops. We go WAY back…

Without shame, I admit I felt some kind of way this morning about Father’s Day. There was a  little sadness mixed with confusion (Why?). You can throw in a pinch of resentment and pissivity too. I spent most of this morning dwelling on and pouting over all the stolen future moments life and it’s sometimes cruel nature stole from us–me and my pops. All the silly and untold jokes, unshared words of wisdom and advice (because communication is no longer easy, no longer existent really). Most days I’m able to convince myself to be grateful for what we once had, the relationship we once had (which is totally different today). We had our own language (laughter and jokes) and a very  special bond. Basically, we just had a vibe. But this morning I didn’t care about being grateful for what once was. I didn’t give a fuck about the past and its memories.   I didn’t ask for any of this, wasn’t prepared for it. I wanted more future with my pops (the original version of him)–I wanted more laughs (frequent laughs), I wanted to hear more of him talking shit to whomever he felt like talking shit to, I wanted more pep talks, I wanted more spoiling, I wanted more him–the old school him. Alzheimers… you stole from me and my family (and I legit hate you for that). You also taught me it is more than possible to miss someone, to ache for someone who’s not even dead.

Then the afternoon rolled around, and although I was supposed to be taking a break from social media as I worked on some other things today, the break didn’t last too long. As I scrolled I saw someone posted a meme that read something like “What Did Your Father Teach You.” I’m not happy it appears I’m addicted to social media but I am happy that seeing this post forced a shift in my focus. I started to think about ALL the many things my father taught me. Like how to write a check ( I remember this like it was yesterday, sitting up at the front table practicing on a sunny spring day). He taught me how to stash money (He gave me a stash of money and told me I should spend a little but  save most and continue adding to the stash. Unfortunately, to his disappointment, I initially spent all of the first stash before adding to it. ). He taught me how to be frugal (My pops was the thrift store king! He didn’t believe in spending a dime unnecessarily). He taught me how to drive (Oh my God, I hated those driving lessons! He fussed the whole fuckin time. “Slow down!” “Brake!”  “You don’t know what you’re doing yet. Why are you going so fast?” You gotta listen!” When it was my cousin’s turn to learn she’d fake being sick because the lessons and yelling were so nerve-racking . Lol). He taught me that what I had to say mattered (He actually wanted to hear my sometimes funny but mainly boring ass stories about life at school or work. He wanted to know how my friends were and if the new guy was still treating me well. He’d hang on to every word, asking for more details, and wanting me to repeat every story when a new person walked in the room. (“Vi..listen to this. Tell your mother what you just told me.” “You tell her dad.” “No.No.No You gotta tell it. Go head.”)  He taught me the value of handwork (I swear this man never missed a day of work y’all. I’m not that dedicated…yet). He taught me how to be a person people could depend and count on. He taught me how to be a giver (He was cheap as hell but when we ever needed or wanted something he always came through with the check). He taught me that life will knock you down but you have to get back up and keep pressing. He taught me the value of being independent, of standing on my own two feet, of always having my own, and not placing myself in positions where I’m at the mercy of others. He taught me that life is simply sweeter with laughter (Our love language).  He taught me that loyalty and consistency are gold. And I’ll probably never be as In Your Face and Tell It Like it Is as him, but he taught me not to take any shit from people. He taught me a man spoils the woman he loves and honors. And he doesn’t cry or complain about it.  Through his actions, he taught me I meant the world…to him (which I internalized as I mean the world. Period. Lol. He’d always tell me how I looked “like a million bucks” or say “See you later Rhond-D”, his nickname for me, as I was headed out the door to meet up with friends. And  then he’d add a wink… and a smile. Those were the days. I’ll cherish them forever.)

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I Diddy cropped my mom out. Don’t judge me! Lol. It’s Father’s Day.

After reminiscing, I can honestly say I feel less heavy, less in a funk, less entitled (to my preference, to my vision of how life should be).  Memories…I didn’t want to fool with you this morning.  I wanted to be sad and pissed. I wanted to cry and say “Fuck you!”  (even if just for a few hours). But  I feel better now  (writing this was surprisingly therapeutic). Memories came through for me in the clutch today.  To wrap up, I’m no fool. I know how blessed I am to have a father who loves me so much, who poured so much into me. So I can be mad, I can curse, I can scream and yell. But when that’s all said and done I have to return back to gratitude, to being thankful for the precious gift of even experiencing Dad–then and now.   And I understand, with sadness,  we can’t go back to the good ole days (not on this side anyways) but I will cherish and hold on to,  for dear life, the so many memories I’ve been blessed to make with my father, my friend, my first love, my everything.

Note: Once in a while, my old pops resurfaces and we all laugh so hard (like  when I say “What up Boss” and he laughs like he did back in the day  or this week when he told my Aunt to “Get gone!”  Get on his nerves and he’ll tell you what you can do with yourself. Lol. #ClassicRonHall)

Black.Girl.Magic

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“Black Girl Magic”. It’s evident our magic exists well beyond graphic tees and social media hash tags. When we see fellow black girls making moves, stepping into entrepreneurship, uplifting communities, creating, speaking out against injustice, demonstrating resourcefulness, living fearlessly, and more we swiftly and proudly exclaim, “That’s that black girl magic right there!” I have a pretty clear understanding of our magic as a collective. Simply put, WE LIT. We have a certain swag, a particular élan about us. And that’s not to say others don’t have swag, style, grace. But…ours…is just different. I have to credit a significant portion of the magic oozing through our veins to the women who came before us. Those we’ve had the pleasure and honor of knowing as well as those who laid the foundation for us many moons before our births. The Black Girl Magic torch has been passed down from generation to generation since the beginning. I’m forever indebted to all those who came before me. Additionally, I’m eternally grateful to be a member of such a premiere squad of collective magical-ness.

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As mentioned earlier, I know what makes OUR squad magical but I had a little extra time this weekend to consider my own, unique magic, to consider what and how I’m contributing to the team? What’s my magic exactly?

My MAGIC: MY magic exists in my grateful spirit, and in my zest for life. It rests in my understanding and appreciating that my being alone is a gift. I see it in my ability to love…even still. My magic is in my giving and in my willingness to help others. It exists in my inclination to see the glass as half full, in my preference to make sweet tasting lemonade instead of sucking on sour lemons. My magic exists in my quiet strength and will. If I get knocked down 99 times, I’ll stand up 100. My magic finds residence in the principles I hold dear to my heart. Be trustworthy. Be loyal. Do the right thing. Be kind. Be good to people. My magic’s in my confidence, in my belief that no matter what…I’m gonna be good. It’s in my belief that God is bigger than the box many try to hold Him captive in. My magic’s in my smile, a smile that brightens moods. It’s in my laughter and in my kindness. It’s in my creativity. I see my magic every time I put pieces from the Goodwill together and still manage to look like something. My magic exists in my curiosity and willingness to learn new things. It’s in my genuine appreciation for Black culture (cultures), my desire to connect with my folk. Lastly, my magic is how I can navigate between soft, sweet and girly but you’ll regret crossing me and back to soft, sweet and girly effortlessly. And there you have it. My magic summed up in a paragraph. (Insert smile and a sense of pride here)

I really enjoyed this exercise in self-awareness. I’m confident you will too. I’d like to encourage you all to take a moment, or two, and reflect on the question: What’s my magic? If you’re up for sharing, I’d love that! I always love hearing from you. If you opt to keep your findings to yourself that is totally understandable as well.

Signing off here Ladies. Until next time…

Peace. Love. And Magic. Black Girl Magic.

Gentleman

I had at least 3 weeks to prepare for Cupid’s Journal. All I had to do was create a poem about the ‘L’ word. There were no guidelines requiring our poems be centered on a particular love type. I could’ve easily focused on the  love shown to me by doting parents or a caring and protective brother or the cousin who’s really like a sister or the girlfriends turned sisters or my M-F children or God of course.  But no. That would’ve been way too easy for me and because I thought I was up for a challenge, I committed myself to creating a poem centered around romantic love. Why would I consider that a slight challenge you ask? Well…if I’m being honest, my Romantic Love track history is some trash. (Pause). Well…maybe I’m being a little too harsh. I have met and experienced really fun, smart, goal oriented, caring, (accentuating the possitive) humorous, good hearted, thoughtful guys. And truth be told, I have more memories of happy times shared than jacked up times. (Insert long sigh)…but the jacked up times have left such a lasting impression.

So there I was (It’s like 2:15pm and the event was slated to begin at 3:00pm.), seated in my little girly nook with my girly pink pen in hand and my journal opened to a fresh page. I was ready! Let’s knock this poem out in 10 minutes, refresh make-up, get dressed, and be on the road by 2:50pm. (It sounded like a solid plan). But nothing was happening. I stared at the page. The page stared back at me. 10 minutes pass. Another 5 expire. (Shit! I’m gonna be late.) Hmmm. What can I say about that kind of love being that I might be a tad bit (just a tad)  jaded right now?  Experience (experiences) can jade you, jade your perspective, quell your optimism.  Nonetheless,  I refused to show up to a Love Fest with a jaded ass poem talking about,  “Ya’ll  lovely ladies wanna hear a poem? Well here it go”:

She So Jaded

All ya’ll *bleep lie

And make all the good girls cry

Start off all nice and kind

But it’s only a matter of time

All ya”ll *bleep cheat

Frontin like you so fuckin sweet

To save your life, you couldn’t tell the truth

and that’s exactly why…

IDFWY

Instead, I thought about qualities I loved and really appreciated in past people, what I’d like to see in my next person. I thought about Ric Hassani’s music (which is actually playing right now), how refreshing it is, how it makes me smile, and how it helps to restore my faith in the opposite sex. (I actually borrowed one of his titles and I hope he won’t mind. Lol.)

   Gentleman

You’re a gentle man. An honorable man, whose love is pure and true

You’re a loving man, a loyal man. One who always comes through

You’re an intelligent man, loaded with all things knowledge, at your feet I’m honored to learn

And because you’re genuinely trustworthy, my trust you’ve definitely earned

You’re a genuine man. Generous and loving too. You love God, your family, your communities too

You got so much confidence and swag. It’s just oozing all over you

Note: I couldn’t help but laugh when someone blurted out “Yaaaassss! Where he at tho?”

Said I was over the fellas. I’d had my fair share

Felt you all played too many games, broke too many hearts, and it just seemed so unfair

But you came through and showed me something different. You came through and you showed me the truth

Now I need my jersey back so I can get on loves court again. I’m inspired to put my fears aside and watch God love me through you

In other words, you got this girl coming out of retirement

And she’s doing it just for you…

                            Note: I know this poem is cute-corny  but I like it!  (Insert smiley face)

We all enjoyed sharing and listening to one another’s hearts by way of words.  Cupid’s Journal was absolutely perfect!  Food. Wine. Sisterhood. Love. Openness. Encouragement. Laughs. Music. And more. I can’t wait for Cupid’s Journal: Spring Edition.  Hmmm. I should probably start working on something now…

 

You can see more pictures and videos from Cupid’s Journal on my IG page. My handle is @girltalkwithrhondamarcelle. And as always, thank you so kindly for your time. I truly appreciate it.

Peace and love…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Confidence On Fleek

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It is believed that intuition is a woman’s greatest gift. Although I’ve  chosen to ignore it at the most opportune times I will not beg to differ. I will, however, like to add on. I think a woman’s next most powerful gift is self confidence. For me, confidence means always believing in yourself, always trusting in your dopeness.  It’s feeling good about yourself. It’s knowing that whatever happens, whoever goes, I’m always gonna bounce back. It’s trusting I’ll always be good. Most importantly, it’s agreeing with my creator that I’m special and  that I have something unique to offer this world.

I believe building or boosting confidence is an inside job for the most part. You have to put in the work, ensuring you’re not agreeing with and entertaining debilitating thoughts and notions of who you are.   YOU have to believe in your gift. Unfortunately, it seems our confidence, often times,  stems from who we’re physically connected to, who validates us, who gives us the green light to shine. And please don’t get me wrong. It’s an honor and a privilege to be connected to someone, to be and feel loved by someone. But if the sole reason, the only time you feel badass is due to a particular connection, you’ve placed yourself in a scary and tricky position where you’re now codependent on someone else to make you feel amazing about who you are as a woman.

I understand we all have unique backgrounds and may have experienced unfortunate circumstances, beyond our control, that speak to our levels of confidence. For today, I would like to focus on what’s currently within in our control and what we can do as adult women to help boost our confidence moving forward. And I believe that if we are intentional about getting this right, we can impact our lives and the lives of younger women and girls who are watching, studying us. We can help to give ourselves and our girls the gift of empowerment.

Get Connected To Your Source

Being connected to a source is the base, the foundation of confidence for me. I’m a believer and God happens to be my source. I actually believe all that mushy stuff–God loves me. He’ll never leave or forsake me. He spoke my name. He knows every hair on my head. I could go on and on but I think you get where I’m coming from. If my creator thinks I’m all magical and what not who am I to disagree?  This is not an attempt to convert anyone. I’m not certain who/what your source is. You’d have to determine that for yourself. All I’m simply saying is believing in something greater than myself, having a connection/relationship, believing I’m loved, cared for, kept, covered by my source has been instrumental in my life and in confidence building. It changes the inner dialogue. My connection and belief serve as ammunition. When the world tries to tell me “You’re not good enough” I don’t believe that shit. My rebuttal is swift and prepared…”But God thinks I’m dope so clearly the world don’t know what the fuck they talking about.”

Learn/Try Something New 

Valorie Burton, the author of Happy Women Live Better, asserts that trying /learning new things boost confidence. And guess what? She’s right! It can be something as simple as attending a flower grooming class. Yes, they have these classes and yes I attended one years ago. It was super cool learning how to arrange and groom flower bouquets. Something I’d never even considered or much cared about previously. Thankfully a friend invited me along. Occasionally,  I’ll  stop by the grocery story and pick up a bouquet of something or another. I still remember what I was taught so after a little time and effort I get the bouquet looking right, place it on the table in a pretty vase, stand back and admire  my work like…Yeah…I did that. That’s good work right there.  End result? Instant confidence boost (insert smile). I’m left feeling good about myself, feeling accomplished. And I didn’t need anyone to co-sign.

 

Unfortunately, I’ve gotta wrap this up for now. I’ve talked your head off enough  for one post but please stay tuned!  Next time I’ll talk more about trying new things, getting cute, and more. Wishing you all awesome days. Until next time…stay sweet.

Peace and love…

 

ULTIMATUMS

I was listening to a video clip of Derrick Jaxn on Facebook last night. He spoke briefly on men, marriage and ultimatums: indicated he was no huge fan of  the u-word. The word ultimatum sounds a little ugly I admit, but the associated synonyms sound very practical, logical really.

Synonyms For Ultimatums 

-uncompromising demand
-final offer
-take-it-or leave-it deal
-final notice
-final terms
-final warning
-final word
-last chance
-last offer
We issue ultimatums—last chances, final offers, final notices— all the time I believe.
Examples:
~ “Chrisette this is your last chance to decline 45’s invitation”, said The Black Community. If you decline, we’re good. If you accept and perform, we ain’t fuckin with you no more. (She thought ya’ll was just talking. She was clearly mistaken.)
~ If this restaurant issues me shitty service one more time, I’m never coming back again.
~ This mechanic is always on some bullshit. If my car’s not finished by noon I’m taking it someplace else, and I’m never coming back.
       An ultimatum is simply having an understanding of what you want, an expectation of how your desires should be met and delivered, and enough consideration to give involved parties the opportunity to meet your demands. So what’s wrong with that? What’s wrong with giving your beau an expiration date on his slow dragging? Nothing’s wrong with it. Nothing’s wrong with issuing an ultimatum in my opinion. But unlike with a mechanic or an establishment, something feels a little (a lot) fucked up about having (feeling required) to issue an ultimatum to a person who claims to love you but who’s also dragging their feet on you.
       I remember having a conversation with a friend who was in this predicament. She said, “I shouldn’t even be going through this.” And I understood her wholeheartedly. It feels like you’re twisting someone’s arm just to be with you. The fuck? Though some guys may need a little encouragement in the area of full fledge commitment, and they may need to understand that their lady’s not going to play this game long-term, it still feels like an insult (a slap in the face) for a woman to have to go to such extremes (ultimatum issuing). It’s a mood switcher. Like dude, I gotta twist your ear for a commitment? Fuck it. I don’t want it then. You keep it.
       We want guys to view being partnered with us a privilege, not an obligation (“Ok. I’ll marry you Gina. Damn!”). And once the territory of issuing ultimatums is entered the lines of being considered a privilege versus an obligation get blurred. In this regard, it is my hope that from this day forward, we choose men who choose us repeatedly (sans prompting, sans coercion), men who appreciate and feel privileged to have us. Men who don’t need ultimatums to keep us.

For Those Who Think Living Single Is A Total Suck-Fest

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The assumption is single living is lonely, miserable living. Society graces single ladies with pity, creating an atmosphere of panic and desperation. There’s always a family member in your ear about finding a man before it’s too late or an article with data suggesting all (like every single last one of them) of the quality men have left the building so whomever (whatever) you can get your hands on, make sure to hold on tight, and be thankful you got someone (something). Who cares if it’s “… just any fuckin body”? (Ummm…I care). 

If a SL isn’t careful, she’ll fall for the trap. She’ll let others convince her life really is a Suck Fest. She’ll put life on ice. She won’t even make an attempt to live a life that’s colorful,  lit, and full of purpose because she’s agreed with the Without A Man You Ain’t Much Of Nothing bullshit she’s been fed. 

The good news is regardless of what society says or feels, there’s an amazing number of SLs living life on their own terms. Woman who are traveling the world, creating dope shit, making moves, starting businesses and non profits. Slaying basically. They’re changing the narrative and having the time of their lives. I love these women. Admire these women. Would like to think of myself as one of these women. 

But if you happen to be a Single Lady Who Agrees With Society, let’s chat.

 SLWAWS: But single life is SO lonely.

MeHow? When there are people, life and opportunities to connect all around. If you’re feeling lonely and disconnected from people, look for ways to foster connection–with those in need, loved ones, friends, your professional circles, and more. You’re going to  have to stop telling yourself that the only way to treat your loneliness is through romantic connection. 

  1. Volunteering is a great way to serve, give back, and step away from the I’m So Lonely narrative. 
  2. Joining  or starting a fitness community where you meet up for weekly walks, jogs, weight lifting, or whatever is another awesome way to combat feelings of loneliness, link up with like-minded individuals, release endorphins, and advocate for your health. It’s a total win-win- win. (I’m a huge supporter of living our best fitness life (getting in at least 3 days or 150 minutes of sweat breaking activity per week) and “preserving the sexy”. It’s a mood booster, vibe elevator, confidence enhancer, and so much more.
  3. Additionally, make an effort to link up with your peeps and family regularly. Decide how often you want to reconnect and catch up on life with each other. Having something to look forward to creates anticipation and boosts your mood.

SLWAWS: But single life is boring.

Me: How? Why? There’s always something happening. Always some goings on. African dance classes, grape stomping events, comedy shows, festivals, museum openings/events, theater, fitness engagements, dining, hiking, galas, cooking classes, marathons, and more. Find the things you like or enjoy and get like Nike. You may have to step out of your comfort zone to enjoy and partake, but life is buzzing all around you. And if you’re waiting for a committee to join you, stop. Who says you can’t venture, explore, and discover alone? I’m not saying you have to leave the country solo (if you’re uncomfortable doing so), but you can go to a concert solo, for instance, and have the time of your life. And trust me, no one will be staring at you with pity thinking “Awww, she’s all by herself”. And if they are, you should be so buzzed from pre-gaming and so high off the music and energy to even notice. For if single living is boring for you one can only assume I Got A Boo Now living will be boring for you too. No one’s coming to save you from living a boring ass life. You’re gonna have to save yourself Girlie.

SLWAWS: Most of my friends are married. And they’re moms. They don’t have time to do hoodrat stuff with me.

Me: Find new friends or acquaintances to kick it and laugh with from time to time. They may not elevate to Day Ones status but you can still have an amazing time with them. Instead of sitting in the house bored, lonely, and envying a friend’s life, you could be out in these streets creating your own life. Facebook has 50,000 social groups all happening at the same damn time. Jump in one. Meet up activities and events are everywhere! So much so it can get a little overwhelming. Meet people who have similar interests (book clubs, foodies, travel clubs, music heads, movie buffs, and more) as you. And go for it! We have to be proactive about changing the narrative. Because if you don’t change your narrative, I don’t believe you’re gonna be able to change your life. Our thoughts create our reality and if all you meditate on is how lonely, miserable, and empty your life is, then life has no choice but to serve you exactly what you’re constantly focused on. 

SLWAWS: But I have no one to go on romantic dinner or movie dates with. 

ME: Take yourself out from time to time. And not on some ‘I’m on a date with Jesus’ foolishness either. (Jesus is my brother.  Or is he my father? Or both? I dont know. It gets a little confusing for me at times. But I definitely don’t view Him as my man. Sorry if this offends anyone. It’s just my opinion). All I’m saying is, if you’re staying in on Saturdays because you have no one to hang out with romantically, be your own hero.  Learn to enjoy your own company. Stop being afraid to do shit because you don’t have a committee or a man by your side. You make more than enough money. Get cute.  Go to that restaurant or theater or wherever. Eat the popcorn. Drink the cocktail. And be merry. 

SLWAWS: There’s nobody to rub my booty.

Me: Girl…goodbye. Every single woman on the planet can get her booty rubbed if she really, really, really wanted her booty rubbed, and that’s on any day of the week. Two words: contact list (old flings, past cutty buddies, new admirers). And I’m not trying to be crass or offensive. I’m just being honest. If I’m wrong you can send me the bill. Now granted, these may not be men you want to go the distance with BUT…if all you want in the moment is…well…you know (don’t make me say it), take what’s worth taking and throw the rest back so to speak. Note: these arrangements can get very tricky for some of us. I’m not 100% a fan as a result. My only point is that there are  always options and eager men available IF that’s all you want and you think you can handle what comes along with strictly physical relationships. In the past (as in a long, long, long, long time ago) I found myself irritated, borderline upset, in these “situationships”. After a brief period of time (fun) I’m like, Dude, all you wanna do is f#*k me? Seriously? That’s it! I have SO much more to offer and all you wanna do is smash?. Man …get the bleep outta here.  And the guy’s all confused, wondering why is she trippin all of a sudden. But everybody’s not all emotional like me. For some, this may be a great, conveinient, and temporary fix. All I can say is walk in your truth and do what’s best for your soul. 

SLWAWS: But I don’t want to have pointless sex or catch anymore bodies. 

Me: Good. Me either. (I dont’t think). And I wish you would’ve said that earlier. We could’ve bypassed the enter booty rub discussion.  Talking about peoples’ sex lives makes me uncomfortable. It’s just so…personal. But anyways, let me add this, self love ( wink ,wink) is an awesome option. It’s safe, carefree, drama less, and emotions are not needed. And you can still get those endorphins released.

I could on, but I feel like this blog entry is already super long. So I’ll just conclude by saying again, SLs we have to be proactive about changing the narrative. Be mindful about the things you agree with and the thoughts you entertain. You’re life isn’t boring or meaningless because you ain’t got no man (in this season). You’re life is a gift. And you don’t have to wait until Christmas or your birthday or until your coupled up to open and enjoy it. Start enjoying and living your most bedazzled (single) life today. 

That Damn Dinner

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It’s hard to believe the season finale of Insecure is upon us. We all have so many questions and wonderings that will require more than one 30 minute episode to satisfy our curiosities. Sunday night was tough to watch. For some reason, I feel so connected with this cast, and I’m confident I’m not the only one. There were so many moments where all I could say was “Damn” (long and drawn out). Daniel and Issa’s phone conversation for instance. From Sunday to Sunday I was giving my man (he became “my man” when I saw how right he had that body looking. Makes me want to reconsider another ab challenge for myself. Hmmm…I just reconsidered it. And…no thanks. Daniel got us. ) the benefit of the doubt. I assumed he didn’t intentionally splash , or should I say spray Issa in the face with…y’all saw the episode. But then he’s all like “…well we’re even now.” I’m like dude! She’s was about to forgive you. Let it ride. And here you go saying something stupid and totally unnecessary. Damn…

Issa and Lawrence. Damn. Damn. Damn (in my Florida Evan’s voice). First of all, Issa had no business pressing Lawrence about bringing a date. FOH. But he went in on her. And she went in on him! And I hated every second of watching their hurt and pain revealed in clapbacks and one ups. As she wrecks her apartment, for the first time, I felt sympathy for her. Like if she could rewind the hands of time, she’d make a different choice. One that may not have involved staying in an unfulfilling relationship but did involve respecting your partner, relationship, and friendship enough not to totally destroy and wreck it beyond repair. Unfortunately… we don’t always get the luxury of rewinding time to make a better choice. And with some people/friendships/relationships, once you lose them, you lose them for good.   Although Issa took an L and tomorrow she may bounce back, Party Time wasted no time on Operation Bounce Back with his new, swaggy friend. Courtesy of him, we may have a chorus coming soon: At 10pm I took an L but at 11pm I bounced back. Damn the both of yous…

Note: You both get on my nerves right now.

And then there’s Molly. Poor Molly. I mean, what the fuck was she thinking getting involved with Dro, especially when we all advised her, through our TV screens, and the “innanet” DON’T DO IT. She looked so pitiful sitting at that dinner table. As if things couldn’t getting any worse than totally being ignored, made to feel invisible by someone you’ve been intimate with  *(man…my jealous, sometimes mildly possessive ass would’ve turned that whole dinner party out. I once got irritated with a guy for telling me another woman “always keeps her hair looking good.” Excuse you!  Say what now? In my mind,  that was a detailed observation that required detailed observation,  it was the perfect opportunity NOT to pay attention, a concern that should not have concerned him. The only (and yes I meant only)  hairstyle he needed to be observing and concerned with  and paying attention to…was mine. Granted, that was YEARS ago  (I’ve grown a bit since) but I’m certain a little bit of that is still in me. Hence, why I steer clear of those types of sharing situations. I know me #knowthyself.  I can’t handle it.)  they get it in in the restaurant bathroom only for him to prove once again she’s not, nor will she ever be, priority. The entire situation made her feel cheap. Disposable. Unworthy (not worth it). Like an option.  Humiliated. I really wished she would’ve given Lionel (with his not so boring to me boring ass a chance) . That way I would not have had to feel the character’s pain, disgust with self, confusion, anger, and hurt ultimately being reminders of times I myself owned those feelings (not for ratings but for real for real).  I understand, but still loathe situations where we (women) take (accept, allow, make ourselves ok with)  less just to say we have some…thing. Those situations that leave us holding the short end of the stick.  Damn those situations.  I need Molly to make us all proud  (Sisters Unite) tomorrow by getting out and staying out.

Alright. Brining this long ass post to a close. Until next time…

*long ass parenthesis break. Sorry.

Cut. The. Shit.

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Want to know what I’m and sick and tired of? FOS (aka Full Of Shitness). And although I’m sick of it, I’m also somewhat intrigued by it. Like why do we feel compelled to BS people…and themselves? What’s the pay off? I think I have a natural propensity to assume most people are full of it to be honest (blame it on my experiences). I give myself pep talks that go a little something like this: Hey, everybody’s not full of it.  EVERYBODY can’t be auditioning for the role of BS artist.  Be open. Give him or her a chance. Imagine my annoyance when my initial suspicions are confirmed. I knew your bleepity bleep was full of it. 

And I guess the reality is we all can be full of it at times. Some of us carry FOS morsels while others are lugging around  whole barrels full of nothing but…you guessed it.  Let’s all vow to cut the shit for the rest of 2017.  Let’s “keep it one hundred” with ourselves and others. If you think your homegirl’s hair looks a hot mess, don’t front and tell her you think it looks cute. If you know you’re not going to call that guy you’re not attracted to, don’t have him calling Sprint to see if something’s wrong with his service/reception. If you’re not leaving your child’s mother  for your girlfriend on the side, man cut the shit, and stop telling your girlfriend you’re working on it ( You ain’t working on bleeeeep. You’re going to be right there with your child’s mother and those kids so cut it!), if you’re not about that swinging/sharing life (Molly reference) stop promoting falsehoods, forcing yourself to do things not in agreement with who you are at your core. Just cut the shit. If you just played the woman like a fiddle for a green card stop trying to present as if you really loved her (90 Day Fiance reference). Cut it! If you’re telling every girl you meet that she’s The One (knowing you lying)  please…cut the shit. Sincerity trumps charm every single day of the year. Just saying. If you’re miserable AF in your relationships, stop posting and posturing as if you’re the luckiest, happiest girl/guy in the world. You’re being a BS artist and you need to cut the shit. I could go on and on with examples of FOS but I’m confident you understand the gist of what’s being expressed.

I’ll be cutting the shit as well for the duration of 2017.  I will speak my truth. I will have courageous conversations instead of smiling and being cordial all while avoiding the pink elephant in the room. I’ll remind myself…Rhonda,this is a great time to cut the shit as often as needed. My goal is to not bullshit anyone,  and I don’t want anyone trying to bullshit me.  I’d love to close 2017 out more authenically than I started it.  I invite you to come along on this journey. Cheers to cutting the shit.