5 Reasons You Shouldn't Sleep w/ Your Ex

You broke up. You're more or less over it. So what. Blah blah blah. But the sex. OOOH, the sex. You miss it. Of course you miss it! Duh. So....why not? Well here's why you shouldn't revisit sexytime with someone who's time has come... and gone.

Feels like the first time. Or not. It's never quite as good as it once was. Why not? Because you used to be in all kinds of lurve and we all know sex full of emotion is way better than the opposite kind. Might as well leave all those lovely memories where they belong-right on Memory Lane where love don't live anymore.

Too much feeling. One of the biggest reasons I've never gone back sexually to my (major) ex boyfriend is because I knew without a doubt that he wouldn't be able to be with me without expecting more, hoping for reconciliation. Now before you decided I'm a completely arrogant prick, know that I broke it off for good with him and every few months after (and still), I get a phone call or a text or a BBM that says something along the lines of, "I miss you and want you back." I tried to sleep with him once before and we wound up getting back together. Never again.

Standstill. It is virtually impossible to move on from a relationship when you are continually going back to that person emotionally, mentally, physically, so why would sexually be any different. If anything, it might be worse. It's just so hard to develop feelings for someone knew when you refuse to leave the old ones alone and I don't care what you say, it's really really hard to separate feelings when you once had so many of 'em. But good luck, lemme know it goes.

Too. Good. Let's say you go back and it's awesome; just as you remembered it except better. Now you're in real trouble. One of two things will happen: A, you will keep sexing, fall back into the habit of being around each other, and get back together. It'll be all nice and slow until you start to remember exactly why you broke up in the first place. Now you're sorta fucked. Well, not really anymore cause now we have to go through another lovely breakup and trust me, it's worse the second time around. OR B, you keep sexing because it's just so damn good and then one day he sits you down and tells you the sex has to stop because he's met a great girl and he wants to give it a real shot. She gets to have your good sex now. Whoopy!

Dead and gone. Worst case scenario, honestly, is probably going back and having it be bad, not because it just isn't as good, but because it's just so empty. It's over. You really are over it and so is he. Then it's just kinda painful and completely not worth the effort. Hell, you coulda had a V8.

Don't say I didn't warn you. In fact, I'd love for you to go out there, find your ex, diddle his pickle, and find out for yourself. I've given so much damn advice and people still do what they want. I find the best advice is learning from your own mistake. Work it out in the c-section-add you own. You know the deal.

That bitch stole my line,

xoxo

Blackie Collins

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

Don't Shoot the Messenger

Yesterday was Mother's Day and no I'm not about to write a post about mothers on a blog that is so far from moms, it'd be morally gross to include them in any of my stories about dating, relationships or *cringe* sex. I was going through my phone, lord knows what I was specifically looking at as my Blackberry seems to just suck me in to a vast world of nothingness, but somehow I wound up on Blackberry Messenger (BBM). Blackberry Messenger is an interesting little program. The long (and short) of it is that it's an instant messenger for Blackberry users only. You can conference or have individual conversations and you can change your status (updates) to whatever your heart desires...well anything under 50 characters that your heart desires. I was chatting with a friend when I saw the little red icon pop up next to the recent updates. I'm very OCD about my Blackberry. There can be no unchecked icons staring back at me, no voicemail sign, no email, no texts, no blinking red light. It drives me nuts. Shouts, "B!" Anyway, I checked the recent updates and saw that many of my contacts had their usual statuses and the remaining seemed to have ones pertaining to their mothers. Then I saw the one that sent off a red flag.

My ex boyfriend and I are still BBM "friends." I'm not entirely sure as to why. One day I ran into him and saw that he had a Blackberry Touch. This was of note because he'd stuck with the old school Blackberry for years. It was really annoying. He swore by it, said it made him loyal. Whatever. Anyway, I made a joke about the old Blackberry, likened it to the gigantic first cellular phone ever invented. The one that came in a leather case and plugged into your car. I asked if he was finally enjoying the necessities, like BBM. Well that opened that can of worms and we exchanged pins. Every once in a while I get a happy birthday or a how's it going, but we don't really talk on there...or anywhere. My goodness, me and the damn tangents. So anyway, his status update read: Mom said go and get her, but what if she doesn't want to be had. I read it and my stomach sort of lurched. Sort of did that thing it does when you feel like another stress weed just bloomed from the exact spot you just yanked one. I just know it's about me. The last few statuses of his have been code to everyone else but might as well have my name in them as far as I'm concerned. One read something like: Love changes and best friends become strangers. Another read: Missing that which always made me smile. I won't lead you into the Hallmark hall of fame he's working with over there, but you see what I'm up against? Even worse, I had a dream about him the other night. I have no idea what happened in this dream, but I woke up and knew I'd dreamt about him. Now before you get all Sleepless in Seattle on me and insist that I run and meet him at the top of the Empire State Building before I miss my shot at love, know this: it is over. Completely. I've seen him on several occasions since our union of a zillion years ended and I looked at him with a sort of shock. The way you look at someone you've seen for years and are suddenly seeing them for the first time. I can't believe I fooled myself into thinking I could spend my life with him. Well that's not all the way fair. There was a time that I thought he was it, but while I'd love to say there was never ever a shred of doubt hiding somewhere, that'd be a lie and I'm not into lies or exaggerations on my blog...or in life for that matter.

Let me get more to the point here. I'm worried about what's coming. I know him. He's tried to get me back before. He's the kind who would show up at my door step, jump hoops, swallow a sword, anything to get me back. I'm his catch of the day, the love of his life (as he's said so many times) or so he thinks. Honestly, I don't think a day goes by that he doesn't remember the one that got away. But, he's right about one thing, I don't want to be had, not by him anyway. I know what you'll all say. I know the obvious answer: just tell him no and keep it moving. But do you know how hard it is to tell someone no repeatedly? Someone whom you used to put before yourself? Someone you loved? It's crushing. It feels like you're breaking their heart over and over and over again. In a word? It sucks.

Then again, maybe the status isn't about me at all and I'm just an arrogant prick.

That bitch stole my line,

xoxo

Blackie Collins

I Bet The Bridesmaids Know My Name

Getting married is a big event for many couples, especially the bride. They spend months, maybe even years planning the big day-it is said to be the best moment of her life; the day she becomes a wife. The dress is altered to a T, the table settings have been slaved over with detail, flowers are in place, the string quartet is paid and ready, it's go time. All the months of planning, all the preparation, all the stress goes out the window as you link up with daddy and head down the aisle. You peruse the guests, smiling at friends, tearing up at family. Then you see her. His close friend, Sandra. She has been around since their freshman year at college, you know her well. At least as well as possible being connected through your soon to be husband. All his friends call her the homie, but when your eyes fall upon Sandra, Sandra has a look of longing on her face...and she's looking at your groom, the "homie." You always joked that their relationship would be more than friends if he'd just give her the chance, you gave her the puppy dog title long ago, but now as you look at her and remember how he INSISTED she be invited at the least (after he proffered her name as a bridesmaid-"she's like a sister to me"), and suddenly you feel a bit queasy. See back in college, there was a night. A night where your then unknown husband to be and said friend took it a step too far. And ever since then he knew she wasn't meant to be anything more but by the look on Sandra's face, she feels the opposite. And all the while you're walking down the aisle, images of them, locked in arms, humping to Jodeci fly through your mind.

And your $50,000 moment is ruined.

This is why the invite list should be void of anyone you or he have sexed. They are off limits. From the moment the line was crossed, their names were crossed off the guest list.

A male friend of mine is getting married and two of his female friends are in the wedding. IN the wedding and not mutual friends between bride and groom but HIS friends. Now, I obviously know this guy well, so I'll tell you it's safe for you to assume two things: one, he probably slept with one or both of them (either simultaneously or on separate occasions) and two, this marriage won't last most likely so who cares? But the fact that she okayed this, said, "Sure babe, I'll reserve a special place in my bridesmaid line up and let them share that day with me. No problem" is mere insanity. It's bad news. I used to joke with THAT guy that we'd come to each others weddings, should we not wind up together. He used to always refuse the idea and while I knew why, I always asked, swore it wasn't a big deal, "we're friends!" He'd tell me something slick like, "yeah, but I wouldn't trust myself to not object when the minister asked if there were any takers." I laughed, happy that he'd be miserable if I ended up with someone else, but the reality is I wouldn't want to be at his wedding either (and ironically, I wasn't invited). It's awkward and an all around bad idea! I barely want to be around friends who are dating guys I used to sneak on the low with, a topic on which we won't even remotely elaborate, so don't even ask.

The guest list should not be a who's who of people who's boots you've knocked. It should be supporters and well-wishers. So, make it as painless as possible, I mean, my goodness, we're talking about marriage here. It's already complicated enough. Do yourself a favor now while you still can.

That bitch stole my line,

xoxo

Blackie Collins

The Ex Zone

When love fades to black or boredom sets in, break ups happen.  There's a reason their called break ups: because our hearts literally break and when hearts break, you cannot be held accountable for the dumb shit you do.  You are now entering into The Ex Zone. (cue Twilight Zone music)

Steve:

Steve was in love with Tara.  He couldn't get enough of her during their two year union, but when the heavens heaved and Tara saw the light, thus breaking up with Steve, hell broke loose. Steve, in an attempt to demand Tara's attention, decided it was a good idea to ram his car into hers as she decided to leave his apartment. He wasn't thinking because Steve had caught a major case and was reeling with fury. Some time later, Steve, now in a 'serious' relationship elsewhere, decided that he needed to give Tara one last chance to have him back. He came up with yet another brilliant plan: breaking into her email account and writing letters to Tara's new boyfriend, stating that she had herpes.  This was not true.  Steve was now a liar on top of everything else.

To this day, Steve is not sure what he was thinking.  Perhaps he hoped she'd see his positive traits as she sat on the plastic covered, circa 1972 sofa in the mechanic's office, perusing a sky-high estimate to have her car fixed.

Steve was crazy in love.  Or maybe just crazy.

Derrick:

Derrick had always been friends with Maria and therefore smitten. He waited for his chance to woo her and when she was recovering from a break up, he swooped in. Confused, Maria entered into a relationship with Derrick, unaware of his insanity. Months passed and one day, Maria, too, saw the light and dumped Derrick.  Derrick bombarded Maria with nasty letters, mean text messages, and email about puppies being suffocated in her honor (not really on the last one, but it seemed to fit). When Derrick realized he wasn't getting anywhere, he backed off...well, actually he had no choice, for Maria found out that he'd been cheating all along.  She found out by way of the STD Derrick gave her as a parting gift.

Derrick was crazy in love.  No maybe needed.  He was just crazy.

Russell:

Russell met Tiffany at a mixer senior year in college.  She was a junior and therefore looking for Mr. Marry After College.  They hit it off and Russell fell for Tiffany.  After Tiffany graduated, they moved to New York City together with the intent of taking on the world from their corner of the map.  Instead, Russell went bonkers.  

After their very messy break up, Russell came up with a Steve-worthy brilliant plan.  He broke into their once shared apartment and bleached all her clothing in the bathtub where they'd once made passionate love. He then hid under the pillow topped mattressed bed and awaited her arrival.  When she showed up, she was with a young suitor.  Russell lost his mind and attacked.

Russell was clinically crazy.

Shawna:

Crazy is not reserved for men only. In fact, women might've invented the word crazy. Shawna was not in love with David. Shawna was obsessed with David.  Their tumultuous affair ended and Shawna deduced that sawing off the legs to his dining room table would yank him run back into her arms.  It did not. He fell in love with a woman who didn't own a chain saw instead.

Shawna was the craziest of them all.  Especially when it came to household furniture.

Moral of the story:

Don't date guys named Steve, Derrick, or Russell.  And if you happen to meet a girl named Shawna, I hope you didn't spend much on your dining room set.  

That bitch stole my line

xoxo

Blackie Collins