Getting Too Comfortable

Last night I went to the gym to get my workout on like I do every Tuesday night.

After the classes I jumped in the shower.  I was taking my time showering because I had a date with Mr. NYPD (more on him another day) and I had a little time to kill.  So I was standing there daydreaming, leaning against the wall enjoying the steamy hot shower, and thinking about a bunch of random shyt.  Ya know just doin' my spazzing out thing. 

I was in deep thought too.  I was so deep in thought that I didn't even realize that I had been letting out these loud azz farts.  Loong, horn blowing farts...

I think I must have been on my third or fourth fart when I realized where I was!  My eyes got as big and white as two boiled eggs.   I said to myself,

"GIRL, YOU ARE NOT AT HOME OKAY!!"

So of course I stood on my tippy toes and peeked over the shower door.  I asked myself, "Did anyone hear that?  I know somebody HAD to hear that."  I didn't see anybody but there were people in the other showers.  Damn!  I quickly let one more go, washed off, and scurried out of the shower area. 

I had gotten waaaay to comfortable up in there huh?  I guess the shower reminded me of home.  I think my body is just geared to farting in the shower at times, and automatically kicked in when I used the one in the gym.  I totally forgot where I was and was having a good old time thinking about Pretty Brown and Mr. NYPD in between farts.  Too funny.

I left the gym all dressed, and was walking down the street shower fresh going to meet my date.  Kim called me as I was walking and I told her about it.  She was literally howling. 

I met up with Mr. NYPD and gave him a kiss on the cheek. 

"You're looking very lovely tonight", said Mr. NYPD.
"Awwwww, thank you suga."

I think he was talking to my chest but who cares.  Thirsty azz.  As we walked along I chuckled to myself because he had no idea that I just had a fart fest in the shower.  At least I had got it all out before we sat down to dinner right?

Giggle.  I guess it was just another day in the life of me.  I really crack myself up sometimes.  I really do.

Why?

Sometimes I ask myself why do I do the things I do. 
Why I think the way I think. 
Blow off attempts of affection towards me by some.
Keep my hands 'full' and keep a selection of men. 
Line them up just like shoes in a closet. 

You can't wear them all, but when you are ready for a pair, they are within arm's reach.  I don't see anything wrong with that honestly.  I call it "exercising my options."

I was thinking about it today though...

Why do I act this way???

Then I remembered why. 

I remembered all the calls that he was supposed to make and didn't.
I remembered all the dates that were promised that didn't happen.
I remembered all the times I had to 'imagine' being with him because he chose to do other things instead of being with me.
I remembered all the times that he minimized my feelings and tried to make me feel like I was being the pain in the azz.
Damn, all I did was like you.  But for some reason it seemed as if that was a crime.

So when I ask myself why I do what I do...

I remembered the time we had sex and then you got up and left, giving me whatever excuse you thought I would believe.
I remembered all of the promises and how many of them were actually kept.
I remembered all of the let downs.  All of the lies.
I remembered doing things - nasty things - for him.  Whatever and whoever. 
Because I was young and dumb.

When I ask myself why do I think this way, I remembered feeling him.
Kissing him and wanting more. 
But I couldn't have more because he wouldn't allow it. 
He was in control. 
And he knew it. 
Everything was all about him.
"I'm busy doing this.  I'm busy doing that."
Like I'm not busy too? 
The difference was that I would make time for him and he refused to reciprocate.
All I heard was "Me, me, me, me, me!"
"I'm doing my thing."
"Trying to get my hustle on." 
Nothing about what I had to do mattered. 
Nothing about what I wanted mattered.
In fact, nothing about ME mattered at all.

I remembered how I would sit back and wonder about the whole thing. 
Asking where I went wrong. Over and over and over again until my head hurt.
But I already knew the answer.
I took a risk.  Hell anyone you meet is a risk to be honest.  You can't predict how someone will act.  How they might be towards you after the googly eyes stop being googly. 
It's all a game of chance. 
But too many times I went for it and threw my heart out there anyway.
Just for him to stomp on it. 
Then kick it in the road to get run over by cars.
I just got tired of it all.

(takes sip from a glass of wine)

So why feel like that again? 
Why torture myself?

I like men.  I really do. 
But f*ck this emotional shyt. 
This 'feeling' for him shyt.
Cuz all it does is suffocate me. 
Takes my mind off track and has me thinking crazy about myself. 
Doubting myself. 
Thinking that somehow I'm just not...
(sigh)
That I'm just "NOT."

Grrr.  See what I mean?
"Feelings" will get you all f*cked up.  Have you thinking bad about ya self.
You lose common sense.  You forget who you are.

 

You see the train coming, but 'feelings' make your azz jump right in front of it.
"I'm doing this because I love him!"
Then the train runs you over.  And then backs up and runs over you again.
Nah that's okay.  I've had enough of that.

(takes a final sip of wine, then looks at the bottom of the empty glass)

I'm not bitter. 
I get kinda tired of being hurt, ya know.
I just got lost for a little while.  But I'm getting back on track.
I just gotta remind myself why I do what I do.
Why I think how I think. 

No more bruised feelings.
No more broken heart.
No more picking myself up off the ground.
No more questioning myself and what I have to offer. 
CUZ I AM WAAAAY TOO FLY FOR THAT.

I decided long ago that I ain't standing in front of no mo' trains.  And if I have to be this way and think this way in order to prevent that, then so be it. 

The less I open myself up to feelings the less bullshyt I have to deal with.  And guess what?  It ain't meant for anyone else to understand, critcize, or even cosign.  It's my life and I gotta do what I think is best for me.  And getting caught up in some dude right now ain't it.


Et cetera...
Pretty Brown was back. And now he's not?  Guess that's why I wrote this.
Moving again.  Found out the noisy neighbor got locked up for sexually assaulting somebody.   
Therapist said I should stop callin' the Match.com date munchkin.  Because then I'll always think of him that way.  I'll leave alla that to talk about another day though.   

Match N' Munchkins

I'm staying true to my word from yesterday and coming back to blog on the little Match date last night.  And the little Match date was the date himself.

Can you say 'Munchkin'?

He was a Shawty for real, and not in a good way.  I was literally TOWERING over him in my heels.  He basically was a Black version of Popeye the Sailor.   

See those short, stumpy legs and arms?  That's what Shawty was working with.  I mean he wasn't horrible, but he was just so compact. 

On a good note he was cool to talk to though, but I had to chuckle to myself when he was talking about how females on Match don't tell the truth about themselves.  I was thinking 'include yourself short stuff. Your profile said you were 5'10".'  Um no boo bear.  How's about 5' 7".  Barely.

Overall not bad looking and he looked great for his age.  If I was crushin' on Munchkins he would be a good candidate for sure.  Smokey Robinson has a song called "Can You Love A Virgin Man", but I made a new version of it since the date last night:

How come people say

Lady Munchkin that's OK

But when the conversation turns around

Munchkin Man they always put him down

People say he's so petite,
And chile don't lemme start talking about his tiny, little feet!


Can you love,

A Munchkin man,

Oh oh,

Can you love,

A Munchkin man.

I don't think I can.  I mean when I hug a man, I wanna snuggle up and put my face on his chest.  Or at least on his shoulders!  With this one, he will be the one snuggling his face in my chest if we hugged.  I guess for him that's good (if I had big boobs), but for me nuh uh.

I'm 5'7" and I like wearing heels, so I guess height does matter to me a little.  I never really had to think about it because most of the dudes I have dealt with were at least an inch or so taller.  I had a boyfriend once that was a tad shorter than me, but that was a million years ago.  It took some getting used to but I worked with it.  Again, another muscular dude.  I'm starting to think that shawtys try to make up for their height by being muscular and built. 

I have no regrets though.  I had a nice time. 

Now for the assessment.  To make this interesting I have decided that I will make a little scorecard after each date from Match.  Hee hee, it's gonna be a fun summer bloggin' on this subject!  Can't wait. 

(rubbing hands together)

So here's the first:

Name:  Munchkin Man aka Shawty aka Popeye

I doubt if there will be a love connection here, even though he was very complimentary and a total gentleman.  But here's a rule to remember when it comes to Match:
 

Cardinal Rule No. 1 to Dating Men on Match.com:

However tall the man says he is,

subtract at least two inches.

In other news, dude on this Coochie Contract with me is getting caught up in the rapture.  I'm gonna have to put him on ice.  Fool had the nerve to ask me last night when I was gonna cook for him? 

My reply:  "I only cook for my man or potential man"

His response:  "So are you saying you are never gonna cook for me?"

What the fluck don't you understand here Dumb Donald?  These basic hood nuccas don't know how to read between the lines for shyt!  I think I pretty much answered that question in my first response.  But see, if I had answered that last one then the convo would have been gettin' into why he's not good enough to be my man and alla that.  Just unnecessary drama from someone whose face I barely look into when he's around me.  Instead of my eyes being on the prize, my eyes are on the crotch when it comes to him.  Real talk.

Oh well.  It's springtime.  Time to do some spring cleaning anyway.  Should have never bothered with his azz in the first place.  I'm working on getting him replaced anyway -- but I have to do it gently.  Delicately.  Twist it around so he thinks he let me go.  I gotta plan.  He's knows people that I know, so I gotta get my dirt on him as insurance so he will keep his mouth shut when I'm done with him.  Too much work.  Like I said, I should have never messed with his azz....

Cardinal Rule No.1 for a D*ck Roster Candidate:

Never choose a dude that knows

people you know also.  It will be easier

to dump him without hearing about it later. 

Back lata.

Day #553: Damn...I'm Slacking!

I know, I know.  I've been slacking.  Even Sassyme emailed me and asked if I was okay.  Awww thank you girl! 

I'm okay.  I think?  Giggle.

Just a lot going on.  Damn it is just too much to talk about!

For starters...I'm gonna get it cracking with this Match.com thing for the summer I guess.  Sigh.  Yeah I succumbed and reactivated my account.   Before I stopped the account because I just couldn't manage all these fools online AND on the skreets.  It was just too much to handle.  So what made me sign up again?  I'll be honest, I wasn't even thinking about this Match shyt but someone winked at me and then I decided to go browsing.  I saw this pic of this brutha on there and I was like "DAYUM".  Used to be a bodybuilder so his physique was on point.  Good looking face too.  And he lives right in my town.  So after a few weeks of debating I said what the hell.  So yep, I signed up just to talk to his azz.  LOL.  I'm pathetic I know - but so what!  I got what I wanted.  I got a date with him tonight so....

Mission accomplished.

Well let's put a maybe on that.  I'm not that excited anymore for some reason.  I talked to him on the phone a couple times and either his phone was f*cked up or he just talks f*cked up.  Not a good sign.  Maybe it's the steroids that affected him?  You know how those bodybuilders use that crap.  And didn't I read somewhere that it shrinks their d*cks too?  Hmmm.  I'll try to catch a glance at it tonight.  Hopefully he will wear some sweatpants or something that "hugs his nether regions" so I can see whassup. 

And then tomorrow, I'll be back.  Bloggin'.  Bloggin' on here talking about his azz. 

Will it be good?  Will it be bad?

T-minus 8 hours...and counting.

We shall see!