Thug Lovin

I have always shouted from the rooftops my love of thugs. I have no idea how it came about, my mom thinks it has something to do with the fact that they are the complete antithesis of where/how I was raised, but I love em. All day, every day, baby, cause I’m a thug-lover. They are just so…thuggish. And yet, it might be time for me to hang up my thug life.

About a month ago, I met Trey, a chocolate, tatted, ebonic speaking, pit-bull raising, take no prisoners boy from the hood. I have no clue how, but he wound up with my phone number and I wound up shooting pool with him a few nights after. Okay, that isn’t true. He got my number from my cousin, who lives in the same condominiums as he does. Apparently, he saw me and during one of those routine-by-the-mailboxes conversations, asked about me. Now, my cousin assumed what I did: to not judge the book by it’s cover, after all, he lived in a pretty expensive condo. Maybe he played football…maybe he was a rapper…maybe he was Diddy! Stereotype central. Anyway, she gave him my number, sent me a quick text to let me know, and went off to shoot someone else with her cupid’s arrow.

Trey called pretty quickly. He was charming and complimentary and immediately asked me out. On this “date,” I was initially apprehensive. First, the location of our “date” was in a neighborhood I wasn’t too keen on, but it was a hood he knew well, and everyone knew him, no one “tried” him in those parts. Second, I was curious about the wad of large bills in his pocket, the rimmed out Benz he was driving, the hood ass accent that forced me to say: “huh” way more than altogether necessary. But there was something so incredibly sexy about him, so intriguing. See, that’s the thing with thugs. Their pure crazy masculinity murders any hope for a straight-laced, regular joe and before you know it, they are your crack. Addictive.

During our date I found out quite a few important facts, all of which contribute to my ultimate making of a true thug list. This is the diary of a REAL thug. I thought I knew, but I had no idea.

Baby’s mom(s). Trey has two kids, both with different moms. He also has an ex wife. She is in addition to the baby’s moms, not included.

Gunshot wound(s). Trey has been shot twice. One was an attempted robbery, the other was a botched “hit.”* He obviously lived through both.

Bitch/Nigga. Every dude, no matter what, is aptly called nigga. Every girl, no matter who, is called bitch. In fact, when we’re in bed, I’m always his pretty bitch. I haven’t decided how I feel about it. Is that a compliment?

Wads of cash with no appearance of a 9 to 5. Trey throws parties for NBA players-this is not to be mixed up with a party promoter. He isn’t that low on the totem pole. He throws like three major parties a year, kicks it with all these ballers, and doesn’t do a darn thing otherwise. Contrary to popular belief, he doesn’t sell drugs. Which leads me to…

Jailbird. Trey did a year in prison for selling drugs at the age of twenty.

Trigger Happy. He’s totally TI with it as he isn’t technically allowed to bare arms, being an ex felon and all, but he certainly doesn’t let that stop him. I’ve never seen it, and while I know it very much exists, this one isn’t totally based on firearms. Trey has punched two people in the face in the last week and a half. I have seen him threaten one. It’s very funny actually. It probably isn’t supposed to be, but I always laugh when he tells me how dude was disrespectful and he had to put him back in his place.

Actually, I’m going to stop with this list. It’s getting depressing, so instead I’ll switch to why I’m into him. Otherwise, my credibility might be on the line…

Jokes galore. He’s incredibly funny and I spend most of my time in stitches. Besides, when he laughs, he has these two dimples that pop out his cheeks and they are adorable.

Chef Boy-R-T. He’s a southern boy and puts many a gal to shame in the kitchen.

Moneybags McGee. I never pay for a thing. Ever. He might even pay my rent for me if I asked.

Healthy Arrogance. He’s totally into himself, but in a good way. He takes pride in what he looks like. His clothes are always together. He’s well groomed. Ugh, he’s totally hot.

He’s Just So Into Me. I think it’s funny that he’s Mr. Tough Guy, but with me, he’s like pure slushy mush. He does whatever I want and has asked me on numerous occasions to be his girlfriend, that he’s falling for me hard. (For the record, I’ve said no on every occasion. There’s just no point in being his girl.)

Member’s Only. And perhaps the LARGEST reason I’m with him…good golly. His member is like perfect. The most perfectest thing on earth. I can’t even describe it. I think about it at night, during the day, at the gym, in the market, in the park, by the lake-and I don’t even know where the lake is. It’s just awesome.

Protected. I feel completely safe with him. Maybe it’s because he’s so scary, no one will make any attempts. Maybe it’s because he can clearly take a bullet or two. Either way, my back is completely guarded when I’m with him…and when it isn’t, I’m laying on it, helllooo!

That bitch stole my line,

Xoxo

Blackie Collins

*I think he was exaggerating on the whole “hit” thing. Here’s hoping.

Three Things You Don't Have to Do to Get Her in Bed

I'm going to share something with you today, kids. Something that contrary to popular belief isn't rocket science and is relatively simple once realized.

You don't really have to do much to get a girl in bed.

Yep, it's true. I'm not saying you don't have to do anything, but in all honesty, the level of effort just doesn't have to be that high. I'm sure the guys are saying, "Naw, you gotta do everything short of hang the moon for these heauxs," while the ladies are crossing their arms and huffing "no way Black-ay! He gotta work for this poonanie," but just you wait. I'm about to drop some knowledge on y'all in hopes I'll get my own book deal. Steve Harvey.

1. Befriend her friends: Nope, no you don't. Every girl has gone home with a guy and not because he wowed her friends. Why would they matter. He isn't bonin them. So, why would she care? Dude could spit in her friends face and she's still gonna tell her girls "not to wait up!" OK, not that far, but trust me. Girls will forget their homies the instant that hottie across the club makes his move.

2. Buy Her a Drank: I say this based on the number of men that are no longer into the act of purchasing an alcoholic beverage for a female in the club. Apparently, they stopped paying, but kept smashing, so you do the math. I'd save a dollar or two as well. Especially in this economy. Now, sure you'll get more bees with honey and drunk girls are way wilder in the sack, but it isn't a requirement, so bottoms up! But separate checks.

3. Say I Love You: Goodness, the number of men that still think love gets sex is sort of astounding. Yea, you had to do that back in high school or something when girls were hanging onto their virginities, but at this stage? In the club? Nah. In fact, you might say it and she might get all the way freaked out. Stalker alert.

That bitch stole my line,

Xoxo
Blackie Colins
Sent via BlackBerry by AT&T

GUEST BLOGGER: Meet the Blabbermouths

*Editor's Note* So, I am thinking of trying out guest bloggers on the site from time to time. This is the first one, Ivana. Follow her on Twitter @ivacontent. Enjoy!)

Last night, I made the catastrophic mistake of introducing the guy I’ve been dating to a group of my friends. Now normally I enjoy this – I get to see my man squirm and have a long, detailed gossip about him afterwards. What better way to measure compatibility than present him to the most sceptical people he will ever encounter in the relationship? This then somehow makes me feel closer to my date (for handling the ordeal) and to my friends (for being complimentary, no matter what).

So it’s all been casually arranged – we’re going out to a few bars because a few drinks are bound to ease awkward introductions. There are even suggestions for clubbing afterwards. We meet, drink, laugh, dance and sing along to whatever R&B atrocities are gracing the charts nowadays. And rather than being a gooseberry between the two parties – as I feared I would be – everything seems to gel together and the night is (astonishingly) a success. My guy mates are even making inappropriate jokes with my date over their pints.

But this morning, my rather rosy impression of the evening was slowly undermined. Firstly, a phone call splits through my sleep (and slight hangover) like a klaxon. On the display I see it’s one of my closest friends, smile at the prospect of their review of my new catch and answer with a cheery hallo. But after the initial perfunctorily compliments, she starts laughing and says how she hoped she hadn’t freaked him out with stories of my previous misdemeanours and quirky habits… After questioning, I found out that last night whenever I went to order a round or was otherwise out of earshot the only topic they could think to settle on was me. Apparently, some of them volunteered stories that were slightly inappropriate to tell someone I’d only been dating for a couple of weeks.

He now knows that some of my more embarrassing hobbies at school were playing chess in the library and running the recycling club. He was quizzed about the sensitive subject of my brother’s long-term illness (which I hadn’t got round to telling him about yet). He was even told the delightful anecdote about me turning up to work in a see-through dress (which wasn’t my fault by the way – always try things on in sunlight before you wear them to work).

I usually have a strict etiquette with these types of things – don’t reveal too many personal or quirky facts about yourself until you’ve been dating for a month. And when you do, they need to be dropped in gradually and carefully, small ones first – then it’s much easier to test the water and see if he scares easily. If it’s a complete stranger or someone you’ve met on a dating site, there will be a lot to reveal. I guess in the end we all find out each other’s quirks, baggage and a whole hoard of details – both pleasant and unpleasant. If someone can’t deal with a certain part of my character, they’re obviously not meant to be with me. But they might get the wrong impression if it’s all piled on at once. Like it was last night…

I guess I’ll find out when he texts me back…

Tis the Season to Get U Some

In the wee hours of yesterday morning, around 10am, I tweeted: “S/o to all the people hanging out in going-nowhere relationships for the holidays. #getusomegifts. And the replies and ReTweets flowed in. Some claimed they would never, had no clue what I was talking about-whatever, #lies&deception; some laughed and tagged a few LOLs and LMBO’s on, but I wasn’t kidding. Actually quite serious. It must be on many a holiday goer’s mind, too, because later that day, a popular DJ brought it up as a topic for discussion: do people go back to their ex’s or stay in no good relationships just to be booed up for the holidays. Callers called in and most said they would rather that than the alternative: be alone for the holidays. I considered this the obvious, but in defense, there were a few morons who called in and swore they’d be just fine with their children and whoever else they could pretend fulfilled the same hole as a significant other and the one lady who said her man was on lockdown and she would not seek a replacement for the holidays. Work it out.

Honestly, though, what exactly do you think people who start gleaming old or new relationships around September are doing? Like setting up a chess board, they’re getting ready for winter, storing their nuts and getting ready to be all warmly nestled in someone’s vagina come December. Dead ass. So, if you’re vagina is gonna get nestled or at least have dates to the numerous holiday parties, than you better get booed or yank out that lil black book (blackberry) and find an old flame to light up.

Perhaps the best reason, as I stated in my original tweet, is the fact that boo’s obviously give the best gifts. When you’re giving and getting lovin, you’re in a better mood (it releases all these endorphins or something), so you splurge and buy that cashmere sweater she’s been eyeing or the watch Twista had on in The Source (if you missed that, you should go start a new life somewhere). Sure, mom and dad give great gifts, but you’re sure to get at least one ugly sweater adorned with reindeer and actual bells on their little reigns or the “I actually forgot about your gift until this very second and happened to have a Bath and Body Works bath gel and hand lotion set in the car” type of present. My suggestion is you’re gonna need that holiday head at the end of it all…and a nicely wrapped happy ending: a car or something. Well, not a car, but hey, you play your cards right and it could happen. Those holiday “Surprise! There’s a ribboned Lexus in the driveway” commercials have to come from reality. I mean, everything you see on tv is real, right? Besides, I’ve seen people do far more for far less, so go go gadget holiday boo and let’s see who gets a car first!

That bitch stole my line,

Xoxo

Blackie Collins

...And We're Back! (You Got Me Feeling Emotions)

**Editors Note: Wow! A full month has passed us by and soooo many changes have happened. New jobs, lots of travel. So much! But we'll get into that when all can be revealed! Promise. I have to say the month off was really needed. I just felt like the blog was philandering like a little guppy flip flopping on dry land, in search of water to swim and thrive. Not that dramatic, but close. It just felt off for some time. I found myself having to stretch out blogs, scour the internets for topics, write about things I could care less about. Everything started getting too introspective, which I don't mind, but this blog isn't just for me to dissect all my dating issues. It's to tell fun (true) stories of my own and my friends, to discuss topics as they pertain to dating/sex/relationships, and to, of course, do it with the kind of sassy craziness only B can dredge up. I felt like I was missing the flare, missing the fun, missing the frame of reference for which this blog was started. To be honest, I felt like I was missing the point and when the distraction became a giant road block, I took a step back and said, "Ok, B, take a breather. You've gone hard for over a year. Just press pause, not stop." Sooooo, we're back! I hope you missed me as much as I missed you, cause I totally did...and if you didn't, well just stop lying to yourself, cause you did. Admitting it is half the battle. And boy oh boy does B have fun things to share these days. So as usual, buckle up. *drags road block out the way* Let's get it!

You Got Me Feeling Emotions

There is a phrase that's constantly used when describing men and their emotions, especially as they pertain to relationships. Therapist use it. Women whine to their husbands and boyfriends with it and go on to complain to their girlfriends about it. Men mock it.

"You're emotionally unavailable."

I think it's an interesting phrase. To say someone isn't emotionally available just means their emotions aren't on the surface, must be dug at, ripped up like tree roots, embedded in the ground for centuries, but it doesn't mean they don't exist. They're just hidden. Locked away for a rainy day or a special occasion. Sort of like a shooting star. They're a rare treat once they’re let loose.

But to say a man is emotionally unavailable is a bit of a cliche. I mean, they're taught to suck it up, take it like a man, show no mercy, and never, ever cry. That's what it is to be a man: strong, masculine. So they're sort of taught to be unavailable with said emotions. And most women don't clamor for the sappy, emotional guy. Trust me, they're exhausting.

The issue is that most (all) women are complete emotional basket cases, which isn't always a bad thing. I think women are awesome communicators because we are in tune with our emotions. I also think we live longer because we put 'em on out there, no bottled up, held back issues for the most part. However, because we're so emotional, it's like holding up a magnifying glass to men's inability to visibly care.

Of course, this always makes me examine myself and when this came up in conversation, I realized I'm not necessarily unavailable with my emotions, I certainly have them, but I'm perhaps dishonest with them. It's my shield, my way of protecting my heart and feelings. What started as just that has morphed with my enormous affinity for sarcasm and my love of wit into a fortress full of frothy comebacks and brow beating banter. All intended as jokes to lighten the mood, push the focus off of heavier topics like me and/or my feelings. It’s great to get me out of conversations I don’t want to have, but it also sucks because sometimes I should be having those conversations. Now, sometimes, I really don’t care, but a lot of the time, I downplay EVERYTHING I'm feeling. I've had so many guys tell me it's okay to show a little bit, that I reverse the roles on them, making them wonder if I'm really into them, have them pandering, questioning if I have any feelings at all. And sometimes I really do, but I’ve just learned to keep it all in my back pocket until it’s time to start showing cards. I think it’s smart, but I was recently told this yet again by a new guy I’m seeing. He literally said, “I can’t stand how I shower you with compliments, tell you all the time how much I like you, that I think you’re beautiful and wonderful and all you do is make some funny comment or brush it off. I mean, not like I’m giving compliments to get ‘em, but can I feel good too?” Sure, he could feel good, on his own time. Sigh. I guess I’m not doing too well with being more emotionally available. Anyone know a good therapist?

That bitch stole my line,

xoxo

Blackie Collins

Friday's Question of the Day

Friday's question involves something I'm definitely going through right now: learning from my past mistakes. So here goes:

What are you're biggest regrets in past relationships and what have you done to fix them in present ones?

A little deep, grab a shovel...

Mr. Telephone, Mannnn

I've come to the conclusion that sometimes they just don't call. I'm very smart, I know. But I'm being serious. Sometimes, even when the date is great, or the connection is there, or there's a giant billboard that says: you two belong together, they still don't call. I don't know why, I could say I don't care, but then I wouldn't be dedicating a post to it (aside from the fact that I've had major writer's block).

There's times I don't call and I know my reasons usually have to do with one of three things:

Life gets in the way, which is really kind of a cop out because people make time for the things they want to make time for, but nonetheless it's a reason. Sometimes I look up and realize it's been a week since I talked to my mother, showered, or ate! Well, not really, but there are definitely times where I just totally get involved in my life and forget to call you back. Sometimes it's personal, a lot of the time, it isn't. Life was just way more important than you at the time. And I have a terrible memory, so once it's out of my mind, it's gone.

Pride gets in the way. The days pass and you realize said person hasn't called or contacted. When you bring it up to your friends, they say, "Why don't you just call him/her?" Eh, gets tricky. At a certain point, your ego gets slapped and you say, "No! I'm not calling him/her! S/he should call me!" I got a big egoooo, such a big egoooo.

Someone else gets in the way. One of my oldest and bestest male friends told me long ago: when a man isn't giving you attention, he's giving it to someone else. Street goes both ways for men and women. If someone isn't chasing after you, it may very be because s/he's chasing after someone else.

Those are my reasons and this post also acts as an update to the "blind" date I went on a couple weeks ago. He ran back and told his friend how much he liked me, wanted to hang again, but then never did. I got a random text from him several weeks later about something we discussed on the date, but nothing more, so I just let it move out my phone. It's not that big of a deal, but I am surprised. Still any number of things could've happened to keep him from calling, but what it all boils down to is that he just wasn't into me enough to pick up the phone (beyond that text). Oh well, I'm not supposed to be around boys anyway, so maybe someone was stepping in on my side :-/

That bitch stole my line,

xoxo

Blackie Collins

Friday's Question of the Day

In the spirit of The Real Housewives of Atlanta's Sheree, when seeking a mate, what's more important money or looks? Would you date an ugly millionaire over a fine McDonald's employee? Extremes, I know, but you get my drift. Chime in! DING!

Me and the Married Man

I'd like to think there's something wrong with them; that I am fine, doing me, won't change and all that, but now I'm wondering if I'm doing something to warrant this kind of behavior so repeatedly.

You're wondering what I'm talking about. Well here it is: taken men always want to sleep with me. Am I the ideal mistress? I don't like this one bit especially given my dad's extracurricular activities when I was growing up. I just do not condone the married men shit. So, you understand how unwelcomed this sort of thing is for me.

It recently started bothering me again as a guy friend of mine has started making some weird comments in the midst of what I thought was a regular friendship. We've been friends for years, but have gotten closer in the last several months. I'm doing some freelance work for his company, so we're in contact for both business and personal reasons now. And he's married. And I know his wife. And I like her. Even if I didn't, it wouldn't matter, but I felt I should say it just for security purposes. One of the things I love most about him is the fact that he's married, so I don't have to worry about another problem I seem to have a lot: guy friends who have ulterior motives. Since he's married, there's no chance, no shot at him coming out of pocket one night and stepping over the line. Well, ideally there isn't. See, that's exactly what's started happening lately. The other night he was up late doing work and we were chatting on the phone. It was around 1 in the morning, and while my best friend, Maria, is always warning me about the messages late night exchanges gives off, I usually ignore it because I'm such a night owl. I do my best EVERYTHING after midnight and I know so many people who are similar, so we're all up at 3am, g-chatting, tweeting, texting, etc. I don't think much of these kinds of things, but maybe I need to? But back to the story. So, we're talking, regular conversation, when I ask him some advice about some guy I'm not supposed to be dealing with anyway (no boys). We are heavily debating the situation with said dude, and I tell him once again about my abstaining techniques I'm practicing and how this is an issue with the new guy. And at one point my supposedly platonic and married friend says: I mean, if it's a horny issue in general, I'll take care of that for you.

Whaaat? I ignored the comment and said something else to continue the conversation. But a few minutes later, he said something snarky again! Suddenly I looked around, realized it was now 2am, and I was having an inappropriate conversation with a married man who was in his office talking to some woman while his all-unknowing wife slumbered upstairs in their marital bed. I literally looked up to the sky and thought why does this always happen? Can I have one guy friend who never tries me? Especially a married one?!

So, I told my supposedly platonic and married friend this conversation had taken a turn for the worse and that I suddenly felt weird. I told him how I valued the few faithfully married friends I had and wanted him to stay in that category, so even if he was a cheater, I didn't want to know about it and I certainly didn't want to be on the receiving end. He responded by laughing and reminding me how much shit he talks, how I should know he's never serious. Mmmhmm.

So I've been wondering why lately. I just finally put the nail in the coffin of that other guy I talked to several months ago. The one who was "separated" but still lived in his house with his wife. He still texts me even though I haven't responded since 1904. And I won't go into the ex who's married now, but won't leave me alone. As a close female friend put it the other day, "B, you're an atypical type of girl. You are both a girl's girl and a guy's girl, so naturally both men and women flock to you. For a guy, seeing a woman who can hold her own in a crew of dudes, won't make him turn off the game because she's watching too, and loves having a good time, I mean, you're the freedom a married man seeks. They get around you and think, man, how'd I miss this boat." But how is that my fault? This is just who I am, so now what? Cut off all male friends who are married or have serious girlfriends? Well, that's half my contact list being the age I am. I will say the late night calls and content should be exed out. Maybe they are giving off a bad aura. Like shouldn't he be upstairs having a nice conversation with his wife? Content is important also because I don't want you thinking I'm the girl you go to when you want to lament how boring or square your wife is. Nope, not my problem. You should've thought about that when you married the old ball and chain.

But that's all I can come up with. What else am I doing wrong? I seem to be the common denominator amongst these situations, so I am assuming there's gotta be stuff I'm doing without realizing it and it's gotta stop because I'm running out of patience...and guy friends.

That bitch stole my line,

xoxo

Blackie Collins

Friday's Question of the Day

Can you ever truly date someone a friend slept with and/or dated? In essence, someone who "smashed the homie?" Why or why not? Can people get passed that sort of obstacle?

That bitch stole my line,

Xoxo
Blackie Collins
Sent via BlackBerry by AT&T

Dude Sit Down: How'd I Do?

I never quite understand why men like to delight in their sexual prowess but for some reason, they totally do. They want to know how it went, how it felt, what they did that you loved, how many times you climaxed, if you would in fact put them in the Guinness Book of World Records for best sexual prowess. Sometimes I feel like they want a literal play by play, the highlights reel, or they come completely unhinged, which just seems altogether weird to me. I don't ask them how great I was, but then again, I don't have the weight of our sexual experience riding on my shoulders, which is an incredibly dramatic statement, but you get my drift. I also don't ask because I know what I'm like in bed and I'd rather the compliments be volunteered versus asked for, but whatever. Moving right along. So, I recently had someone ask me "how he did?" It was thrown in in such a nonchalant way-like months after the fact too (I am still Keeping Up with The Abstinence, although I have no idea how long the season will last-probably gonna get cancelled). I was totally caught off guard. It went like this:

Him: So yea, I told my sister about that new west nile virus exhibit at the American Museum of Natural History and she really wants to go. I figured we could all go together.
Me: Sounds good. We should bring insect repellent though, just in case some of the mosquitoes are staking the joint, waiting to get us.
Him: True. I'll buy some OFF. Oh, speaking of getting off, how'd I do in bed?
Me: ???????????????????

That's exactly how it happened too. And I was at a total loss for words. A) I could barely remember, it was forever ago. 2) Who asks that? Thirdly, what was I supposed to say? It wasn't even in the context. I can sort of deal with the dumb question right after the actual act, maybe the next morning, but a couple months after? Get. A. Life.

So I said: You did well enough that I'd do it again.

Apparently, this comment was not to his liking at all. In fact he said it wasn't a glowing compliment but he'd take it, he guessed. Then he copped an attitude and said bye! Cue Beyonce's Ego like right now. What exactly was he expecting me to say? Sweet JEEESSUS, I have been thinking about how great you are in bed since that night and I have been waiting for you ask me that asinine question because I wrote a list with 122 items, in alphabetical order, and a Power Point presentation with 16 pages of bulleted reasons why you're the best I ever had!!??

Probably.

I insist my answer wasn't a foible, but in the event it was, here are my top three picks for better responses to help prevent future dumb predicaments like this one:

1. You were amazing.
2. You were amazing.
3. You were amazing.

That bitch stole my line,

xoxo
Blackie Collins

Welcome to the Boring Life

I'm so tired. I've been dating for over twelve years and damnit, I'm tired. Well that's not entirely true, because during some of those twelve years, I was in relationships, but those were tiresome too, so it remains the same. I'm tired. I feel like Charlotte on Sex and the City. I'm just over dating. I'm watching all these people getting engaged and married and, no, I'm not thinking, "When will it be my turn?!" Nope, you know B better than that. Instead, I'm just like, "I think I give up."

I've told you all that I'm on abstention mode. Well, I touched on it, but let me elaborate. I love me some hims and it's too easy for me to get distracted from what I need to be doing because of a guy. I don't turn my life over to them, but I definitely think about them way more than I should and I have an uncanny ability to refrain from saying no to them. It's a bad habit. I'm trying to break it by not dealing with boys at all. And if I do, it's in such a strict-arms-length-way, I doubt anyone will feel like bothering, hell I barely feel like it. Yes, I went on a date on Monday, but that's small potatoes compared to all the dudes I've written off in the last two weeks. That's been tiring too! But I really want a fresh start. I had a few icky situations going on in the last couple months and they all led me to the point of cleaning house. So, the house is clean and guess what? I'm bored! In some ways, I've totally become used to the drama that men bring in your life. They swear it's us, but I insist, they have more drama than Broadway. It seems enticing when you're in it, the drama, but once it's over and all is quiet, you're like, "what the hell? That was about as fun as diving into a mosquito nest wearing a pair of sugar panties."

In some ways, it's sad. I'm being very honest, I definitely feel the lonesomeness set in and this is coming from a person who loves dining alone, taking in a movie sans partner, or doing other activities by herself. I've always been that way, okay in my own company, but as I've gotten older and damnit, everyone getting paired off, I've started to wonder about my settling down, if I'll settle down, when I'll settle down, will I settle down? And it's all making my brain hurt...and my heart too.

I give a lot to people, I always have. I remember my mother warning me to be careful with my heart because I liked wearing it on my sleeve. I've tried to heed her warning, but I don't think I've done such a good job of it when it comes to giving myself to others. I give my time, I give emotion, I give passion, I give everything but money, and that's only because I barely have any myself, but if I did, I probably would. And a lot of times, you give to people and they just take it and you get used to it. You say, "I'd rather still have a good heart even if people trample it." But then you get smart and you shield yourself just a bit, you don't believe in people until they show you who they really are, or you just stop trying altogether, which might be where B is right now. I just don't feel like it anymore. Of course, I like being in love and of course I enjoy having a boy around, but I'm not sure that's enough to counter all the bullsh*t that comes with it. The games, the phone rules, the dating, the getting to know you, the realizing you're a douchebag, the moving on, the having a hard time moving on, the missing them, the starting over, the repeat cycle. I just don't have it in me. That's also why the blog has been suffering, I'm just interested in dating right now. I could tell some old stories, sure, but most of my antics are of clear and present dating, but I will be pushing through, blogging about the perils of missing boys and fighting my urge to ignore the voice saying Take care of you, please! This may be incredibly boring for you, but it actually might be eye-opening, at the very least for me, which is sort of all that matters being that it's my blog, so there. I might also say eff it and meet a boy today. We'll see, we'll see.

That bitch stole my line,

xoxo

Blackie Collins

Dating is Blind

Last Friday, I posted the question of the day about blind dates. Of course, my questions are sometimes out of nowhere and me just being curious or nosey, but sometimes they are based on my own personal situations. I had been summoned by a good friend to go on a blind date with a guy friend of hers. This particular friend, Susan, is one of my most fun friends I have. She's quirky and crazy and insanely a blast to be with. I think she feels the same way about me and our wild nights are always the best. BUT when Susan said she wanted to hook me up, my first thought was this guy had to be equally crazy and one thing I'm desperately trying to abstain from in my life is craziness. In fact, I have done a major 180 and have abstained period for almost a month. Do not laugh at me. That's a long time, sadly. Anyway, Susan thinks this is the best idea she's had since 2002, which is okay because works for a hedge fund and I bet her ideas get pretty boring. Far be it for me to stunt her imagination, so I asked her a few questions about said friend. I didn't say yes, but she took the questions as a confirmation that I was going on the date, which I wasn't sure I wasn't, but also knew I probably would. I figured, if anything, it'll be fodder for the blog. We all know I've barely had anything to say lately, probably because I'm abstaining, which means I'm sitting at home watching dust settle (on my vagina).

Susan described him in language she knew would make me stop pussy-footing around and just say yes to the date. He's about 6'3, dark skin, loads of tattoos, plays basketball, dark hair, really nice guy. I blacked out after loads of tattoos, honestly. I was sooo in, but I asked more questions. What did he do for a living? Where did he live? Was he married (you have to ask these things because so many are okay with it if you are)? Where'd he go to school? On the last question, Susan hemmed and hawed before announcing that he went to school with me! I instantly recoiled, renigged, indian-gave, whatever. I'm not going. I probably know this dude. No, negative, sorry tattoos, I'm out. Last I need is a blind date with someone who I've SEEN before, which kind of negates the whole point. And what if it's terrible, as many people say blind dates are, and then I have to see him at Homecomings or mutual friended parties. Nope. That's a set up for a lifetime of awkward and I can provide that on my own, thank you. Susan pressed on, stressing that I probably didn't know him at all, and I should just buck up and go. I told her I'd think about it, which was synonymous with when you'd ask your parents if you could please please please get that pony from Jessica's birthday party last weekend and they said they'd think about it.

A day later, the ever persistent Susan, called and asked what time I wanted to meet for my date. I told her I'd never said yes, which she ignored and said, "You know you're going to go so just stop the act." I thought about it for a little bit and decided she was right. It could be a huge laugh and a great story for the blog. I love using the blog to blame for my shenanigans. So, 9 o'clock at night, the following evening, I was going out with Rob.

We met at a popular sports bar, which turned out to be the smartest thing considering how into sports I am. It ended up being a huge topic of conversation. Susan told Rob what I'd be wearing, a pair of black boots, a new pair of black suede, high end, peep toe, platform heeled boots to be specific-they're amazing-so when a deep voice said over my shoulder, "Nice boots." I knew when I turned around I'd be in for a huge cringe or a big laugh. I whirled around, and there stood Rob. Rob, who I'd made out with sophomore year at a drunkard frat party, but never really spoke to again. Rob, reached out to shake my hand and introduced himself. I almost choked, but somehow managed to giggle girlishly and say my own name to which Rob laughed and said, "I know, come on." So, we realized we knew each other, great, and it didn't seem weird. We laughed about Susan's idea of a "blind date," and found a spot to sit and watch some Monday night football.

The conversation was effortless, we knew a lot of the same people, we talked about what we'd both been up to since our make out and graduation, and generally had a good time. There were flags in the conversation that eluded to more time spent together, and I felt really nice with all his compliments on my pretty skin, gorgeous legs, etc. I could get used to that for real. We shut the bar down and when our server meandered by for the seventh time, we knew it was time to put him out of his misery and leave. He walked me to my car, opened my door, said he'd had a great time, we should do it again, hugged me and went to hop in his ride: black, rimmed out, dope Charger. Damnit. A nice thug. Exactly what I need right now.

The next day, I purposely didn't call Susan. I knew she'd been sitting by her phone salivating, waiting for our report, so when she finally called around lunch, I wasn't shocked by her exasperated, "OMG, what happened? How was it? Start from the beginning!" I gave her a brief rundown. Told her I thought he was nice, I didn't have crazy butterflies, but it was a solid first date and if he called, I'd go out with him again. I could live with butterflies for a while, they make you sick anyway. Susan was thoroughly excited, but I made her swear she wouldn't divulge my thoughts on him to Rob. She said she wouldn't. A few hours later, she hit me again saying, "Rob said he really liked you. I gave him your number. He wants to hang out again."

I'm not terribly shocked. After all, I'm an attractive girl with pretty hair, I drink beer, love sports, am articulate, and crack people up. Why am I not married again? Oh, right, because I said no. So, anyway, Rob has my number and now comes the fun parts: waiting for him to call and staying abstinent while in the company of all those tattoos once he does.

That bitch stole my line,

xoxo

Blackie Collins

Friday's Question of the Day?

The ongoing debate continues here...

Spit or swallow? (Insert groans)

Have at it, kids.

B.
Sent via BlackBerry by AT&T

The Home Team

Ok, first I have to apologize for the lack of posting again. A combination of writer's block and life have made me the worst blogger in America. There. We're done. Moving on to today's post...

It's fall, baby, and that means boo up season is beginning. Summer has been fun, but it's time to whittle down to the final few who will make the cut into fall and the one who will keep you warm through winter. Yep, It's dating season. Of course B is here to make sure all your I's are dotted and T's are crossed. I've learned every woman should employ a group of men when she's dating. This group of men is called The Team. No, B isn't suggesting you cheat on your man-this is for when you're uncommitted. No, B isn't suggesting you sleep with your entire team-that's some heaux sh!t, but don't worry, you'll be satisfied in every way as every guy on your team provides a service. While extreme descriptions, the list remains. Here's who you should pick when it's time for the draft.

The Romantic. This is the guy who wines and dines you. He's probably the first seed, top spot, dude you're rooting for the hardest. He's the captain of your team. He will probably end up being your boyfriend. The Romantic is the one you go out with the most, curl up and watch a movie with on occasion, and kiss in public. When people say, "Are you seeing anyone?" You say his name lightly, knowing it could very well be heavy if all cards are played correctly.

Pro: All the aforementioned. Most likely to succeed as winter item.

Con: Make this selection with care...he'll be around for a minute.

The Maintenance Man. Ok, we all know his job. He's the plumber. If you don't get that, we've got other problems to tend to.

Pro: He, um, maintains you.

Con: See Jump off posts. Careful with this one!

The Thug. So, maybe not everyone needs a Thug, but B does;) We can also call him the bad boy. Every thug needs a lady and every lady needs that bad boy in her life. You let him post up on your couch, blunt in hand, loud Rick Ross playing on the stereo, while you braid his hair or something. It isn't going anywhere permanent, but it sure is fun. Oh, sometimes the thug can double as the Maintenance Man...actually, he should. #biased

Pro: Muscles and tats are your friends.

Con: Bad boys are called that for a reason. Try not to get attached, they break hearts.

The Gay. The Gay is the only character on the team who isn't used for romantic purposes. He's the one you go shopping with, the one you gossip with, the one you brunch with. He's the one who fills the girlfriend position so your dudes don't have to find themselves sitting on a couch in Bloomingdale's watching you try on endless little black dresses which all. look. the. same.

Pro: B loves the gays!

Con: B loves the gays!

The Intellect/Renaissance/Earthy Man. This is the guy you go to museums, art exhibits, Talib Kwali concerts, poetry readings with. Maybe he has dreads too and wears those nerdy glasses. You talk endlessly in coffee shops about the poverty rate in America and how you too can be a Vegan in three easy steps. The next date will include handcuffing yourselves to a tree he used to climb when he was 9.

Pro: IRE man helps you stay cultured and opens your eyes to different parts of life.

Con: You'll miss animal products, trust me.

The Baller. Few have this guy, but he's great if you got him. He's the dude who flies you out to meet him wherever he is. The guy who showers you with gifts, drives a dope ride, and wear tailored suits ala the men in Takers. The baller can range from some finance type with a big bank account to the athlete who adds you to the payroll.

Pro: The inside of a Mercedes SL500 is pretty nifty and you'll feel crazy awesome stepping out with a fine dude to boot.

Con: When you go back to slummin it, you'll miss it badly.

What about guys? Who's on your team?

That bitch stole my line,

xoxo

Blackie Collins

TGIF: Question of the Day

Thank goooddnesss it's Friday! Writer's block continued this week, but here's your question of the day:

Would you ever go on a blind date? Have you? Was it terrible or are you about to celebrate your 90th anniversary and birth your sixth child?

That bitch stole my line,

xoxo

Blackie Collins

Sexytime Relationships

Chris Brown said it best: Three in the morning, you know I'm horny. So why don't you come over my place and put a smile on my face..." Oh, the late night booty call. Fun times, or disastrous if you don't know how to navigate this tricky relationship. I've talked about jump off relationships before, but I've done some more research since then and since it's an ongoing debate for many...Here's my little list of managerial duties for the sex only relationship:

1. NO SLEEPOVERS. Cuddling and spooning into the night are for boyfriends and girlfriends, not for jump offs. JOs do not serve that purpose and I promise you, if you are sleeping with someone and then SLEEPING with someone for months on end, someone will definitely catch feelings like pneumonia.

2. RULES. Make the rules and stick to them. If you two don't kiss because it's too intimate, don't kiss. Don't get all drunk and start slobbering each other down. Some people can kiss and keep it breezy, some cannot. Know which camp you're in, pitch a tent, and stay put.

3. MINIMAL TALKING. This sounds harsh, I know, and I don't mean you can't talk to each other at all, but keep the topics surface. I don't come over to hear about how you quit your job and you're stressed or how your father who bounced when you were little is back and driving you crazy and you don't know what to do. How about we talk about the last movie we saw or how great the weather's been instead. Getting to know each other too much starts to lead to wanting to know each other too much and confuses the issue.

4. CONTINUE TO DATE. Do not put all your relationship eggs in the JO's basket, s/he will drop them quicker than a third string wide receiver. If you keep your options open and date others, leaving just sex as your focus with the sex buddy, it'll make your life easier.

5. KNOW YOURSELF. I know I already said this, but I can't stress it enough: IF YOU START TO FEEL ANYTHING, THINK ABOUT THEM WHEN YOU'RE EATING FROZEN YOGURT ALSO KNOWN AS CATCHING FEELINGS, FLEE. Fast. I had to put that in caps. I've been here myself, not realizing that I was starting to like dude (usually after I broke aforementioned rules) and didn't realize until it was too late. It happens, easily if you're not careful. Additionally falling under this heading, know yourself enough to know if you are NOT a jump off type of person. If you aren't, nobody really cares, so go about your business and don't employ any heauxs. Don't force the issue, it'll only make you're life hell. Buy a vibrator or jack off, and keep it moving.

That bitch stole my line,

xoxo

Blackie Collins

I Know It Isn't Friday, but...

So, I've decided to do a Friday question of the day. Just to kind of tie the week together, gear up for the weekend and sort of give me a day off from blogging......I've had way too many, yes, I know, but life has been very crazy these last weeks, but as things come together, I will be blogging daily again. Friday will be Question of the Day. So answer away and submit questions to blckcollins@gmail.com if you'd like too:)

Also, I'm up at Zora and Alice today. Great blog and Blackie is happy to be included!

TODAY/TOMORROW'S: QUESTION:

How many partner is too many for a woman?

That bitch stole my line,

xoxo

Blackie Collins

Over It, Over You

It's a pretty great feeling to realize you are truly over someone. Gone are the days of sitting by the phone, hopping they'll change their minds and beg you to give them another chance. No more do you lay in bed at night, remembering how it felt to have the warmth of their body next to yours, as constant as they were there when the sun came up. It surprises you how sad you can be, how you can literally feel your heart aching in your chest, wondering if you will ever go back out into the world again, trust again, let down walls again.

And then you hit a point where the ache dulls and it's just a little numb feeling you learn to live with and it really isn't so bad. You start to think to yourself, "I'm over it. Great." But there are fleeting moments, oh are there ever. Moments where it hits you hard and you feel as if the wind has been knocked clear out of you. Maybe you see him or her out in public, pass them on the street, have the awkward run in, hear that he or she is dating someone new. Those little moments are the ones where you think, "Shit, maybe I'm not over it," and it drives you up a wall like Lionel Richie. You can't stand how they still have an affect on you. How you can not hear from them for months, but seeing their name pop up on your blackberry reduces you down to the slobbering, crying idiot you were when they walked out the door. It's silly really, but at the time it feels like mountains crumbling. An avalanche of emotions.

You date other people and try not to compare the apples to the oranges. Try to enjoy yourself and move on. It's fun sometimes, but other times it just all around sucks. You want them to laugh like s/he did, hell, just be funny as s/he was and probably still is. They aren't the same and it's a glaring reminder whenever they open their mouths. You. Are. Not. Him(her). Annoying. But you press on, cause you have to. You can't be that idiot who still has pics in frames around the house, hopes unhealthily for reconciliation, hangs around his/her hangouts, hoping for a "run in," doesn't move on all around. Friends look at you like you're crazy and get sick of talking you down off your ridiculous ledges. You sorta get sick of yourself, but you can't seem to shake it. Nope, you cannot...will not be that person.

The only cure for the common break up is time, sad but true. The hardest thing to face and yet the only thing proven to heal broken hearts. Time comes and goes and before you know it, you realize you haven't thought of them in days, weeks, months. You forgot to answer his/her random text the other week because you were genuinely busy. You're life no longer comes to a crashing halt whenever they come a knocking. Then some sort of event happens, maybe you sleep together randomly (I don't recommend that for the severely broken hearted) or you see them at a party. Something that makes you remember how you used to feel and more importantly, how you don't feel anymore. It feels awesome. Like warm chocolate chip cooks fresh out the oven. You actually look at them as just a regular person and maybe you say, "What on earth was I thinking?" Maybe you don't. None of it really matters and that's the best part. It doesn't matter. You don't care. At all. Eureka's castle.

That bitch stole my line,

xoxo

Blackie Collins