Jimmy CHOOsy Lover

To say I love shoes would be a gross understatement. There's something about the way they smell when I open the box and remove them at the shoe store. And, obviously, there is something about the way they feel on my foot. More than that, there is something about the way they make me feel. I don't just limit myself to one type of shoe. While I love stilettos the most, I also love a cute flat and an old school pair of shelltoes. There are so many choices; ankle straps, t-straps, Mary Janes, ankle boots, knee boots, pumps, round toes, square toes, pointy toes...you get my point. But regardless of the variety of shoes I love, some things remain consistent in my choices; they have to be a good fit, they can't hurt my foot, and they have to be good quality. These rules apply whether I'm wearing a four inch stiletto or a platinum colored flat. Yeah, the shoes are very different in appearance, but they still serve the same purpose; to make me look and feel good.

When I'm in a shoe store with no real purpose in mind, I often look until a pair speaks to me. They sit on the display rack and the mere sight of them conjures up a vision of me wearing them with an outfit just as fabulous as the shoes. They are made to work in concert in order to help me achieve my best look. I stare, I contemplate, I check to see if the store has my size, I try on the shoes, I walk around in them, and finally, I purchase them provided they pass all the tests. So, it's quite obvious that I'm very choosy about my shoe game and because I love shoes so much, I take the time required to make the right choice.

In thinking about how I feel when it comes to my shoes, I wonder why it is people like me put more effort into buying the things we love than we do into choosing the people we love. I like variety in men just like I do in my shoes. Some have been tall, some of average height. Some men have athletic builds while some may have a few extra pounds or are just plain skinny. Complexions have ranged from the fairest to the smoothest of dark chocolates (my absolute favorite). However, regardless of the difference in physical appearances, my expectations of those I date are no different than what I expect from a pair of shoes. He has to be a good fit, he can't hurt me, and he has to be of the highest quality.

In my conversations with women of the previous generation, I'm told that in my older age my list of preferences will grow shorter as my level of loneliness increases. I'm told that I'll stop my desire to have a man with wit and good humour and instead settle for the things on my short list like a job and all of his own teeth. And, when I look at the choices some of those women have made, I am convinced that this theory is clearly true for some. However, in the interest of raging against the machine, I don't believe it has to be this way. It makes absolutely no sense for me to ever take more care as to what I put on my foot than I do as to who I put in my heart. If a pair doesn't work and doesn't meet the requirements, they stay in the store. The fact that they are a nice color and marked down by 75% doesn't change a thing. Simply being cheap isn't reason enough to lower my expectations. It's not that way with shoes and it sure as hell shouldn't be that way with love. It is my fervent belief that we completely short change ourselves of our true happiness by assuming our age means we have to settle for the most basic needs that feed our bellies but don't satisfy our hearts. Sure, a working man is definitely a good thing just like a pair of Payless Shoe Source specials can serve to cover the foot. But when it really comes down to it, we should want Jimmy Choo in a mate, not just a pair of two dollar flip flops from Wal Mart. Sure, they can come through for you in an absolute fashion crunch, but they are usually only good for one wear before they start to fall apart and give you corns.

I know that people think I'm unreasonable to insist that we hold on to our standards regardless of the passing of time and the graying of our hair, but I believe wholeheartedly that if a man is the right one at age twenty but I don't meet him until age forty, he's still the right one for me. While I can't speak for anyone else, I refuse to settle for anything less than the absolute perfect pair.

Killer P*ssy

I tried to wait for a respectable amount of time to pass before speaking on this, and now I feel I've held my tongue long enough. Let me first say, I think it is sad and tragic that Steve McNair was murdered. I always think it unfair and evil for one person to decide that another need not live any longer. Who are any of us to decide someone should die over anything other than a case of self-defense? Regardless of the circumstances in her life, Sahel Kazemi had no right to decide that Steve McNair should die. It was not within her authority to take him away from his loved ones just because of her raging insecurities and personal financial issues. NOW, having said that, I would be remiss if I didn't speak on what I consider to be his part in all of this.

Unlike those who I consider to be mean and hateful, I don't think Steve McNair "got what he deserved". I find it entirely too cruel to say a thing like that about someone who was brutally murdered. I do, however, think that Steve fell prey to the fallout from his bad choices. He certainly wasn't the first man or woman to make a choice in a love interest that was way less than savory. I've dated cheaters, liars, those who were criminal-minded, some who were just shiftless, and even a few who had the potential to raise a hand and slap me with it. It is no more than the grace of God that kept me from being injured or financially impacted for a lifetime. And now, as I grow older, it is the wisdom God gave me that keeps me from returning to those same pitfalls. Like my mama always told me, "When you know better, you've got to do better". Sure, I could still be dating Mr. Married And Unavailable or Mr. Good Lovin' With No Job but why would I? My life experiences have taught me that neither one of those men are any good for me and that my life can in no way be enriched by dating those clowns. My self-respect, safety, and personal growth have become too valuable to me to be wasted on a man who is wack instead of wonderful. Unfortunately we all have moments when we forget ourselves. We come down with a temporary case of relationship amnesia and revert to old ways and old choices. Mr. Raggedy or Miss. Good For One Thing Only start to look good to us again. I find that this usually happens when we are depressed and feeling insecure about ourselves. There are few things that better provide us with a shallow sense of security than getting involved with someone who needs us because he is doing far worse than we are. We can throw a bone to a sorry woman and watch how it changes her life while patting ourselves on the back. It feels like a win win until the consequences start to surface.

I don't know Steve McNair's personal situation. I don't know exactly what was happening between he and his wife and I don't know what personal issues he may have been experiencing as a result of his retirement from the only career he knew. I won't even pretend to understand his plight. However, what I do understand is that he made a choice. While he probably never thought the woman he'd been wooing would murder him, he probably did know that she was wack. I mean, how often do we date someone and not know? There are always signs along the way that we choose to ignore, usually for our own selfish purposes. We suck it up for good looks, amazing sex, financial gain, or ego stroking. The downside is that these benefits are only temporary and none of those things are made to cure the very real problems we have before entering into an unhealthy relationship. For these choices, there are always consequences. The bad thing is that for Steve, the result of his choice was the loss of his life and that, to me, is the worst price to have to pay for a foolish decision.

I believe the true lesson for the living is to really consider the cost before we decide who to let into our lives. Is that sorry man or woman really the answer to our depression problem? Is a sugar daddy really who I need to date in order to get over my work furlough hump? Though I know it is easier said than done, it is a really good idea to think about what one would really be giving up for short lived pleasures. Usually one will find that it's definitely not worth it. The aftermath almost always outweighs the benefits and that's the kind of economics no man or woman can afford.

Word Up

Over the years I've heard more than my share of people misusing words in general and terms dealing with race, hate, and discrimination specifically. Considering what we may be facing for the next four years, I just thought it would be helpful to clarify the meanings of words that will undoubtedly be coming up quite a bit in the near future. This way, we can all be well informed and educated when it comes to how we choose to hate! Seriously, it helps to know what we're talking about prior to opening our mouths. Believe me, life is much simpler that way. So, here are some words to learn:

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  Racism - 1. a belief or doctrine that inherent differences among the various human races determine cultural or individual achievement, usually involving the idea that one's own race is superior and has the right to rule others.
  2.a policy, system of government, etc., based upon or fostering such a doctrine; discrimination.
  3.hatred or intolerance of another race or other races.
  

I know it may not be popular to say so, but by the dictionary definitions I've found, racism is not specific to any one race of people and is not required to involve the ability to oppress other races unlike one's own. So, sorry black folks, but you too can be a winner! It's time to stop thinking that black folks aren't racist just because we don't have the same resources and pull to keep another race down. The fact that one believes his or her race is superior to one or all other races is enough to make one a card carrying member of the Racist Club. We cannot use color to preclude ourselves from membership. Shocking as it is, 'tis the truth y'all. Deal with it.

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  Discrimination - 1. The act of discriminating.
  2. The ability or power to see or make fine distinctions; discernment.
  3. Treatment or consideration based on class or category rather than individual merit; partiality or prejudice: racial discrimination; discrimination against foreigners.

So this is when one thinks about something or someone or even a "group of someones" and makes a decision in support of or against based on certain characteristics. Discrimination is why I won't date the dude with the Bill Cosby sweater and windbreaker pants. I take one look at him and despite his possible charm, wit, and baby-makin' practice abilities, I refuse to give him a chance because his clothing game is not up to par in my book. Now, to be quite honest, discrimination is not always a bad thing. It's discrimination that saves me from dating someone else's husband, walking in dark alleys by myself in the middle of the night, or from investing in General Motors. Unfortunately, it is also discrimination that may keep me from getting certain jobs or from being able to rent certain apartments or borrow money from certain institutions. The fact that we discriminate at all is not a problem. As a matter of fact, it is a tenet of survival. However, the fact that we discriminate based on age, race, gender, weight, and a whole host of other physical attributes with regard to places to live, schools to attend, and businesses to work is where the problem seems to reside.

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  Bigotry - 1. stubborn and complete intolerance of any creed, belief, or opinion that differs from one's own.
  2. the actions, beliefs, prejudices, etc., of a bigot. a. bigot- a person who is utterly intolerant of any differing creed, belief, or opinion.

Alright, to put this in some of the simplest terms I can think of, a bigot is like Kathy Bates as Bobby Boucher's mother in the Waterboy. She filled Bobby's head up with all matter of tomfoolery, hogwash, ballywho, and gobbledegook and taught him to be distrustful, resentful, and argumentative with anyone who told him differently. Football was the devil, girls were the devil, and any professor who tried to tell him something different about the anatomy of the brain was the devil. Bobby's poor country mama was a big fat bigot. Archie Bunker was also a bigot (and my favorite one I might add). He didn't like anything or anyone that thought, acted, or looked differently than he did. A bigot has absolutely no room in his or her heart for acceptance, tolerance, or any of the other "be kind to one another" tactics some of us may have been taught.

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  Prejudice - 1. an unfavorable opinion or feeling formed beforehand or without knowledge, thought, or reason.
  2. any preconceived opinion or feeling, either favorable or unfavorable.
  3. unreasonable feelings, opinions, or attitudes, esp. of a hostile nature, regarding a racial, religious, or national group.
  4. such attitudes considered collectively: The war against prejudice is never-ending.
  5. damage or injury; detriment: a law that operated to the prejudice of the majority.

When I was in elementary school, I learned to simply define prejudice as pre-judging someone or something. Many times we are not comfortable with a group of people or certain types of situations due to previous information we have received whether it be from the news, word of mouth, or firsthand experience. What I find to be true is that a lot of prejudice is based on stereotypes of someone or something. If we have been told by several people we know and trust that all people with brown hair are cannibals, we are prone to believe it and have an unhealthy fear or dislike for our brown-haired friends assuming that at any time, he may kills us, cut us, up, cook us, and finally, eat us. It's prejudice that makes us assume all Asian people are good at math or that all blondes are idiots. Of course it is completely unfair to make such a broad sweeping generalization given that none of us know all Asians or all blondes. Yet we still judge people in advance based on what we've heard from others or what our past experiences have been.

Now, all of these characteristics can be abominations on their own but together, they can serve to make the lives of others a living hell. These traits cause wars, deaths, collapses of businesses, destruction of families, and the tearing down of nations. And, while they are completely awful, they all are different from one another and warrant understanding a little better. With the "change" that we have experienced in America due to the last Presidential elections, the realist in me expects to see many of the qualitites increase or simply show up more often in some of our citizens. I figure if we can recognize it, perhaps we can work to counteract it. Hopefully we'll be fit for the fight.

So Why Are You Single?

Since I’ve been trying my hand at internet dating and even before that, men I meet always seem to ask the same ridiculous question; “So, why are you single?” Every time it’s asked, I take a deep breath and try to calm myself while removing all remnants of stank from my tone before responding. It’s just a question that makes me feel so frustrated.

First off, doesn’t the fact that I’m an active member of an internet dating site imply that I’m A) open to dating and B) single (more than likely)? Furthermore, aren’t those men on there so they can meet a single woman and perhaps make some kind of romantic connection? All these things lead to me think that a man should be saying something like, “I’m glad you’re single right now so I can have the chance to get to know you…” Well, maybe nothing quite that corny but you get my point. It is pretty annoying to have a potential suitor sigh, then ask in a disapproving tone why the woman he is looking to pursue hasn’t already been caught by some other guy. I mean, where is the logic?

Second, being single is not comparable to having some incurable disease. For those who aren’t surprised when they find out I’m single, there are those who seem disgusted that I am single and content to be so. They ask the question with their faces scrunched up and in that tone that says, “What’s wrong with you? Don’t you want to meet somebody?” While meeting “the one” is a very appealing idea, I have to say that I am quite content in my current state (insert shock here). I like myself. I like my life. I love all the good friends I have and the little bit of a social life I enjoy. I work, I go to school, I engage in some fun every now and then. Hell, I can think of a whole lot worse ways to live so why is it that men sometimes ask the “Why are you single” question as if I’ve caught something terminal? Since when did singleness become a disease? I don’t wake up in the morning, turn over realizing there is nobody next to me and suddenly begin to weep. And though this may be surprising, I don’t cry myself to sleep at night due to the realization there isn’t a man who will be joining me. Truth be told, I sleep quite well and probably best when I’m sleeping alone. Perhaps it’s a symptomof the single person’s disease I’ve contracted. Please don’t get me wrong, I’m actively dating for a reason. I’m hoping for the same connection that many others want. I love love. I think it’s wonderful when two people connect in a real way and really enjoy one another’s presence. I love to be able to sit in silence with someone without feeling awkward or out of place. It’s that comfortability factor that appeals to me. However, even without that, my life feels full and the fact that I’m hoping this man will eventually find me doesn’t prevent me from living my life to the fullest. I’m not waiting for this guy so I can begin to live. I’m waiting for him so we can put our two lives together and make something even more special than what we already have. To the untrained eye, this seems like crazy talk but trust me; all single people are not that way because they caught Singleitis.

So, while I know men won’t stop asking me this stupid question, I continue to dream of the day when it will be stricken from all pre-dating conversation. Until then I’ll continue to swallow the stank and answer with my usual, “I’m single because I’m not taken”. I figure that answer makes as much sense as the question.

Face/Space...It's All The Same To Me

I first learned of Facebook about a year and a half ago and was definitely not excited about it. It had already taken me long enough to get a My Space page and I was enjoying it just fine. No part of me felt the need to reach out and contact a lot of people from my past. I hated high school and have comfortably resolved that the three or four folks I'm still in contact with from that period in my life are all I need. Something about the premise of Facebook sounded so snooty that I was determined to never have a profile there. I didn't want to get sucked into Stuck Up Land. Unfortunately, I recently caved in to peer pressure. I received several email invitations, stern talking to's, and numerous promises that I would love Facebook because it's so much more "grown up" than My Space. Well, I have to say that so far, I don't see any major differences and I certainly don't feel as though I've matured beyond my years by merely having a Facebook page. If Facebook is supposed to be the new "grown up", then I must still be about 16 years old in cyber years.

Perhaps shortsightedness is interfering with my ability to see the unique opportunity I'm supposed to be experiencing with Facebook but I can't help but notice the obvious similarities. I've got friends, I can make friends with their friends should I desire, I can change my message multiple times per day, people can make comments or send me messages...so what's so grown up about that? I've gotten into a pillow fight, been sent numerous alcoholic beverages, been the recipient of a ghetto survival kit, and grooved to an old school hip hop song or two. Yeah, now that I have a concussion from the pillow fight, alcohol poisoning from the free drinks, an abusive relationship with the thug who came with my ghetto survival kit, and a twisted ankle from trying to do the Roger Rabbit, I feel incredibly adult. And, sure, I know that I'm being a bit dramatic about my Facebook experience but I'm merely trying to make the point that so far it hasn't made me feel like any more of a woman than I've always been. And, I have to say that contrary to the new popular school of thought, I still happen to like My Space.

I don't know half the people who are my friends on My Space but that's one of the things I kind of like about it. I have come across some amazing music and underground artists of all kinds. I met a makeup artist who is a really cool person. I've found out about different types of events at home and in surrounding areas. I've downloaded really good free music and found out about concert dates. I've found old friends who I really didn't mind seeing again and I did it all without arrogance, pretense, or pressure. I even found a way to connect with my estranged siblings. I have to say that My Space has been good to me and never once did I feel like I wasn't acting my age. After all, a website can't make me immature. I think that's a behavioral choice I'd have to make myself. Besides, I really think people tell themselves it's more mature to be on Facebook in order to feel better about being a member of an online social site while I can't imagine feeling funny about it at all. Next thing you know, it will all come full circle and purchasing personalized stationary, fine quality pens, and a book of stamps will be the new "mature" way to connect with others. I can't imagine what else could be next especially once all the younguns start fully invading Facebook.

In the meantime, I'll be keeping both pages. I'll enjoy my music downloads and show information on My Space and my pillow fights and drinks on Facebook. After all, it's all about the same to me.

Self Help or Help Your Damn Self?

First it was The Rules, followed by He's Just Not That Into You, followed by The Re-Education Of The Female, and now it's Act Like A Lady, Think Like A Man. I can hardly keep myself from coming unglued every time I see a new relationship book on the shelves which, interestingly enough, always seem to be aimed at women. I suppose it's mostly because we are stupid enough to run out and spend our last twenty on them while men couldn't care less what the hell we're thinking (Remember that movie, What Women Think? Well it wasn't men who went to see it.). Unfortunately, to me, all of these books not only have the fact that they are aimed at women in common, they also seem to have certain qualities that bring out the worst in the female gender.

I've yet to meet a woman who read one of these types of books without suffering from feelings of worthlessness, a lack of desirability, and a doubt in herself regarding all the qualities she possesses that make her great. Instead of turning into a well-informed, objective minded, "man savvy" woman, she becomes a desperate, game-playing, subservient, wuss who spends all her time clinging to the book's rules out of her insecurity and fear that she may lose her ultimate prize; some guy.

Now, please don't get me wrong; I fully support ALL adults seeking objective and varying opinions regarding life and love in the romantic arena. While I'm not one who is interested in reading any of the above listed books, I do believe certain publications can be helpful as can be the opinions of male friends and family members or even advice from one's clergy or therapist. However, I feel the real problem is that some women are so desperate to be loved by a man that they will listen to any yahoo with a publisher. I mean, just because a self-help book makes it to the shelves, it doesn't mean that the advice is good. When did women start running out of common sense and running into the relationship self-help section of Borders so that some guy who probably hasn't had one healthy relationship his damn self can tell them where they are going wrong? And how is it that the onus of all things romantic rests solely on the shoulders of the woman? All these books advise women to do so many things contradictory to common sense that it's no wonder the ones who rush to read them are either still by themselves and thoroughly confused as to why or in a relationship in which she's merely playing a role based upon what she read while fearing the day her facade cracks and she breaks one of "the rules" or slips into her old self after being "re-educated". After reading everything that goes against who she is, she can't tell shit from shinola or mutual interest from "he's just not that into her".

And, yes, I know full well that some women are not fit for relationships. I know we can be snide, non supportive, ball breaking, shrill individuals at times. I get that and continue to work on my own imperfections where romance is concerned. In addition to working on those, I also continue to remember everything about me that is amazing. I remember all the things that make me a great catch. I remember my ability to listen well, my desire to go the extra mile for those I love, my witty sense of humor, my fashion sense, my pragmatic approach to problems, my excellent conversational skills, my nice smooth legs, my ability to soothe, my pretty God-given cocoa skin, and the fact that I can take care of business when needed. I wish I thought about the good qualities I possess more often. Hell, I wish all women would take their positive attributes into consideration more often. The more time we spend focused on our positive personality traits instead of just what we perceive to be our flaws and the more time we spend trying to put our best AND real selves forward instead of playing the games taught to us in books, the more we will start to understand that we are truly the treasure that real men seek. Just to clarify, I'm not releasing women of all the crap we do that makes it hard for a man who wants to love us stick around but I am saying that we need to spend time thinking about what's right about us just as we spend time thinking about what's "wrong" about us.

The fact that we seem to be the only ones snatching these books off the shelves and feverishly scrambling towards the counter to purchase them tells me that we seem to be the only ones responsible for the demise of any and all relationships. According to these books, if a relationship ends it's because the woman was too fat, didn't cook enough, didn't clean enough, didn't give the proper blow job, or didn't wear slutty enough clothes around the house while engaging in the aforementioned chores. She called on day two instead of day three. She accepted the first date offer instead of playing games and pretending she had an overly booked social calendar or maybe she changed a light bulb herself without offering her man an opportunity to do so (clutch chest and gasp here). While I'm sure that all of these things may make certain men feel good about themselves and their "manliness", I don't think these actions are the answer to keeping all women in a relationship. Besides, if a woman doesn't embody these things, she'd only hurt herself by pretending to just for the sake of being with a man. I guess I'm just from the logical school of thought focused on the believe that whoever is for me will appreciate the way I look, the way I think, what I do or don't cook, and the clothes that I wear. Besides, how confident, self-assured, and intelligent is a man really if he needs a woman to do any and everything to keep him all out of fear of him leaving her? He doesn't sound like a very good find to me.

I suppose in essence, I just wish that women would stop always looking to some random author of some random relationship book to help them and instead spend some time helping their damn selves. Spend some time in self-reflection. We should spend some time turning over past relationships in our minds and the cause of their demise. Women should start thinking about what it is they believe makes them the beautiful beings that they are and stop looking to some guy who can't keep it together to help them with these things. Once we start to realize what a prize we are, we will attract the man who appreciates it all. Ladies, help your damn selves for a change.

There's More Than One Whore Here...

In the days where paparazzi follow folks around who are famous for being famous I suppose not much should surprise or irritate me but I just have to say that I'd like to give Elizabeth Edwards a "Get The Hell Out Of Here" award. While I'm more than sure that it's difficult to deal with a cheating husband, being in the public eye, and raising a family all while dealing with the concept that the end of her life is being accelerated, I still have to say that she, like many before her, has annoyed me this week.

It started with the preview on tv about her being on Oprah to talk about her "pain and humiliation". Then today, there was a brief story on her on the world news. I'm sorry, but I can think of at least twenty things off the top of my head that are far more important than this woman's husband cheating. Um, aren't we in a recession? Aren't there two wars in which we're involved? What about Wilbur The Pig Flu? Isn't that some kind of health epidemic? How in all that is happening in our world that impacts the population at large, is this woman's story relevant?

I know I probably sound mean and insensitive. Afterall, this woman has and is clearly suffering, right? Well, while I can imagine that she is experiencing some emotional angst, I just have to say that I don't care enough to want to know the details and frankly I have enough drama of my own to keep me from reveling in hers. Maybe it's just me but it seems incredibly self-indulgent to go on a mini media blitz to tell one's story of shame, infidelity, suffering, and anger as if we all don't have enough problems of our own. Lots of women have been cheated on and have figured out their paths in spite of it. What makes this woman any different? I mean, the story hasn't even been in the news for months. She actually chose to dredge it all back up for some type of sick personal gain. I highly doubt that many of us have been sitting around wondering and worrying for the past few months how she and John were getting along since the "incident".

In a segment played from her interview with Oprah, she made some sort of reference about how difficult it is to build a marriage, how women should be more respectful of other women's marriages, and that it is not okay to see someone else's situation and decide to pursue it for yourself. It seemed an uppity way to call out the mistress and tell her what a huge whore she was for chasing John Edwards. And while the sentiment may have some truth to it, I couldn't help but think that there is now more than one "whore" involved. There's the one who sought to destroy a decades long relationship but there is also one who now seeks the attention of the media and the American public in order to gain sympathy. And to me, each form of whoring is disgusting.

I understand infidelity in a marriage can be painful. Hey, I've been there myself. I just feel like good friends, good clergy, good books, and a good therapist are a much better solution than whoring one's self in front of the world. Elizabeth, I say go in the house, take a nice warm bath, pour yourself a glass of your favorite wine, put your feet up, and spend what time you have enjoying what's good about your life instead of whining to me and the rest of the world about what's wrong with it. Just a thought.