Never Trust a Diet Coke and a Smile

There is something I love a lot. Diet Coke. It's certifiably bad for you, but certifiably one of the best drinks. It works when you're just watching a little television, sipping on a straw in the movies, or on a hot day. It's crisp and refreshing bite cool you off with a slow burn on the way down. I love diet coke. But diet coke means something different to me now. And many of my friends who are reading this post know exactly where I'm going. Now, you can too. I sincerely suggest you diet coke as much as needed. It's what's best.

Several months ago, I was out with friends, I was intoxicated and I was trying to get into trouble. I was heading home, texting back and forth with a guy I was friends with, but had many relations with off and on. We decided I'd come over his place and after a quick rerouting in the cab, I arrived. It was late, he was already in bed, I slipped in next to him and we immediately started...cuddling. Now, anyone who knows me or reads this blog knows how I feel about cuddling, but this particular guy is this guy, so there's a friendship involved and I feel sort of bad using him sleeping over and not being nice. So we were cuddling, which led to him going down on me, which led to my happiness. Let's press pause for uno momento por favor.

Earlier that day I'd had a major craving for a yummy sandwich from my favorite neighborhood deli. I ate half before seeing the time and realizing I had to scoot, so I put the rest in the fridge with my unopened diet coke. I sort of couldn't wait to get back to it later that night.

Ok, you can press play.

So, there I am, stuck at my boy's house. He had just given me some pretty nice dome, so I didn't want to be mean. However, at that particular moment, I couldn't do anything but think about that diet coke sitting in my refrigerator at home. The back of my throat was itching for it. I had never felt this kind of thirst. Of course, I was drunk, so my senses were slightly heightened and being that the first hurdle was jumped (getting some), the second need was in clear and present view. I had to get that damn diet coke.

He made a comment about how worn out he was, which I knew meant he wanted me to just do some work on him, but I couldn't, didn't want anything in my mouth other than that cool, refreshing, slow burn of diet coke, so I laid there and eventually his breathing slowed and I could tell he'd fallen asleep. Perfect. I was ready to sneak out when I suddenly felt really stupid and incredibly bad. Was I really allowed to just get mine and leave at 4am? For a diet coke nonetheless? People have done far more for far less, but I wasn't sure. Every once in a while, I pay attention to that screaming voice in my head. So, I picked up my Blackberry and BBMed one of my boys, who I knew would be up. He always is. And sure enough he answered.

Me: Hey, what are you doing?

Andy: Chillin, Killer Clowns from Outer Space is on Showtime.

Me: Yuck, that movie freaks me out.

Andy: Yea, but in a childhood nostalgic way. What are you doing up?

Me: Went out, ended up at this guy's house. I want to leave though.

Andy: So go. It's kinda late tho.

Me: I know, I feel like I can't just roll tho. He's a good friend who I happen to get with sometimes.

Andy: .....

Me: Do you think he'll be mad if I leave?

Andy: Why do you have to leave? It won't kill you to sleep over. It's almost morning anyway.

Me: But there's a diet coke in my fridge and I REALLY REALLY want it.

Andy: Are you serious?

Me: Have you tasted diet coke? I think scientist have discovered it actually has cocaine in it.

Andy: You're crazy. Go to sleep. Have morning sex. It's way better than that damn diet coke.

Me: That's blasphemous. Diet coke is way better at this moment. You have no idea how badly I want it.

Andy: I mean, did y'all already have sex? If so, I guess you could roll. I don't know, this is silly.

Me: No sex. He went down on me tho, so I'm good.

Andy: You're just gonna leave that dude hanging after he ate you out?

Me:.......

Andy: That's really f*cked up.

Me: I really want that diet coke. What should I do?

Andy: I can't believe you're gonna leave him hanging like that?

Me: Don't even start, Mr. Pump & Dump. How many times have you busted and been like, "Thanks! G' Night!"

We battled it out for a few more exchanges before I just passed out. The next morning though, I woke up still thinking of my beverage and I snuck out super early to get home to it. Breakfast of champions right there. But since then, anytime I've gotten "taken care of" without doing so much as blowing in the guy's ear, the title bestowed has become: diet coked. Would you like me to use it in a sentence? My pleasure:

A: Hey, saw you with hottie from Soho. Did you guys sleep together?

B: Nope, but I diet coked him.

High-fives exchanged.

How do you just get a guy to eat it with no turn around? Well, I'm that good. No, diet coke is that good.

What's the one thing you would maybe cancel the do for? Food? The game? A good book?

That bitch stole my line,

xoxo

Blackie Collins

Get In Line

A while ago, I dated a G-U-Y with no J-O-B. He was completely against type for me in appearance but his personality was so much that I ignored my love of chocolate men and shacked up with him like a tethered ball. We did everything together, obviously, since he had no formal employment. We'd see movies in the middle of the day or have lunch or go on walks. It was actually really simple to not spend money. In many ways, you can still have tons of fun and we did. But haters are always lurking and I had some friends who found it lame that I was aligned with someone on the unemployment line.

Look, we all fall on hard times and I firmly believe that everyone is just a lay off away from poverty and while I think what you do for a living is a large part of who you are, I don't think your job makes you who you are. The fact that he had no job didn't matter...well, much. I'll be honest, there were days when I didn't want to go dutch at the movies. There were times when it annoyed me that we had to count coins, but then he'd blow an incoming check on taking me out, making me have the kind of date night he wanted to give me with the funds he didn't usually have and I'd feel stupid. Ridiculous for ignoring all the qualities I liked about him and succumbing to the narrowed opinions. To them it didn't matter that we had more fun than all of their relationships combined-with far less money in our pockets. To them, personality meant less than the overall resume and possibility of a perfectly wrapped future. Nevermind that we were rich in other ways.

When things didn't work out and I was bummed, I was told that I shouldn't lose sleep over a dude without a job. That it was lame. And I moved on, not because he was a dude without a job, but because that's how things work. I've never been one to follow the crowd's appeal. I usually do what I want to do. Blessing. Curse. Sometimes I should listen, sometimes I shouldn't.

But what's funny is that this particular guy's star is on a serious rise now. Months after our demise, he became gainfully employed and all of his hard efforts began to seriously pay off. And, I'll be honest, it's exciting (and sometimes bittersweet) to watch someone talented, hard-working, and deserving get his due. It's even better to see those same people who told me to fall back, so diligently support him. Because while they praise him publicly, I smirk privately, on the sidelines, more or less as supportive as I was before the "fame." He was popular to me long before he was that guy to everyone else. And when he contacted me recently to show gratitude for my being there back when his chips were down (and he was a bit of a mess-his words, not mine), I knew he knew what I knew before they knew it and somewhere, somehow that counts for something. After all, it's a recession, and people should use it as an excuse to date someone for who they are versus what they do for a living. You just might find something worth more than a few dollars in the bank.

That bitch stole my line,

xoxo

Blackie Collins

Tweet These Nuts

Social media is real. Social media is fun. Social media is real fun. But social media can also single handedly ruin your entire social life. And by social life I mean sex life. Yes, I spend hours on Facebook stalking my friends and boos. Yes, I tweet pretty much all day and constantly check my timeline as if the world might come to a terrifying end if I don't see what everyone is up to at that very moment. Yes, I had a Myspace page back in the day-I was even on Friendster. And yes, I have a Blackberry and am painfully stapled to it. Seriously, it's the only consistent, long-lasting relationship I've had that's been this successful. We get along grandly. Because of our love (and hate) for each other, my Blackberry keeps me in touch with everyone and not just through Facebook and Ubertwitter apps, but through gchat, BBM, and any other social networking applications on there that I haven't even discovered yet. So, it's safe to say, I'm linked in. But being connected can definitely cause some disconnect in your life. How, Blackie, you might ask and on the whole, I'm glad you did. Cause here's how:

Location update. You're out with friends, the night's just getting started, everyone's got that whole anything-can-happen feel and you pick up your smartphone and hit up 4square with an update as to where you guys are hanging. Me and 24 others are at Hotel Indigo's Roof Top. It's about to go down tonight! Meanwhile, Dave, who you've been meaning to call back, but just haven't gotten around to, just happened to sign into 4square. Now he knows where you are, which would be fine except for one small factor: You told him you were feeling flu-ish just last night in a last minute text message once you realized he'd called twice, leaving a message the second time asking what you were up to that night, did you want to catch a movie? Now Dave knows you were lying and even if you aren't and just happen to be feeling better, you still haven't had time to call him back, but seem to have enough time to go to Indigo and get a badge on 4square while you're at it.

Relationship status. You've been seeing Mindy quite a bit this summer. In fact, you two decided to relive your teenage years and go bonkers at Six Flags last weekend together. But you haven't completely ended things with Joan, your winter/spring boo. One day Joan hops on Facebook and what does she see? That you've been tagged in some girl named Mindy's picture album titled: Fun at Six Flags With My Babe! So now Joan's pissed. But wait, there's more. When Mindy comes online moments later, she sees some comments left by a girl named Joan on you're page. She's curious, so she clicks on Joan's profile and is shocked to see that she's listed as In A Relationship with YOU! You might win some, but you really lost one...or two. Cause @KimKardashian will follow your ass on Twitter before either of those girls friend you on Facebook or in real life again.

Twitter chatter. Sometimes people forget that their timeline is public. Maybe you meant to hit the DM button or maybe you just forgot you were on the regular @ feed. Either way, I've seen some really interesting twitter conversations between people who are dating...other people. Not only that, but I have friends who definitely spend a bit too much time on twitter (hello, pot, name's kettle), reading the timeline of their man, calling me whenever something looks awry. I'm not kidding. I actually had a friend call me and ask me why her boyfriend was tweeting his baby's mother. I'm gonna guess it's because they made a kid or something. When he tweets Girl, I'm coming over there with a three week old hard on, we can start worrying and calling DayDay and 'em or the Twitter police.

Profile Pic. I've talked about the profile pic before, but I'll reiterate. It's your first impression before you even get to make one and it can make or break. Oh, the messages and requests I get on these sites...they usually have something to do with how friggin hot I am in my profile pictures. I'm kidding. Ok, not really. Every single person on this earth knows their good side, knows whether or not they look good with an all out tooth smile or a lips together, Mona Lisa smirk. So, set the timer on your camera and do a mini photo shoot, picking the best for your profile pic. Sounds like too much work? You just don't care? Don't think it's important? Guess what, she agrees, but in a completely different way-the undesired way.

Corny online = Even cornier in real life. I had a crush on a guy who I thought was so cute and weird. He was so off my beaten path. But every time he'd tweet something, I'd wish he hadn't. His tweets were just so odd and not funny...ever. No, really, never. And people who knew I was talking to him would gchat me and say, "Did you see your boy's last tweet? Why do you like him again?" That's pretty sad for a couple reasons. One, we're that lame that that's what we're talking about on gchat and two, that he was that lame to tweet whatever he tweeted in the first place. It was a huge turn off.

Everything but the kitchen sink. So you sent him a PM on Facebook yesterday. Just a little cute hey babe, what's up? Just to break the monotony of the usual calls/texts/bbms, etc. You check back later that day, no response. A little later, still no response. Then you check your timeline and see that he's changed his status three times, written on four people's walls, has posted a new profile picture, and has all but written the great american novel under his "Notes" tab, but still. hasn't. responded. to. you. Paging the Mayor of Side Eye City.

Green light. Green means go, as in on gchat, when your little screen name has a green colored circle next to it, you're actively online. So when he hits you and says, "how's work going?" and you say nothing, he knows you're simply ignoring him. Of course, you can claim later that you were busy, in a meeting, left your computer on (which doesn't help because it flips to orange/idle), or say you were signed into your BB and didn't realize. (BB gchat stays green constantly which I'd like to take a moment to congratulate and chastise the good people at Blackberry for having so many social tools on their little devices to which so many can use to catch their significant others and friends in lies and devious acts. I love you, guys for that, but also hate you for driving me insane a I check BBM delivery statuses and gchat green lights.) But despite your excuses, he'll still have several minutes or hours to sit and look at your little icon, wondering why you aren't responding. Trust me, I've been reamed out by an ex because I wasn't answering fast enough.

So what do we do? Log out? Unlink? Disconnect? Damn technology is making it so you can't do anything without everyone knowing and worst of all, we've somehow decided that people actually care what we're doing in 140 characters or less or that we picked some flowers for you and posted them on your Facebook wall. There are days when I decide to leave my Blackberry at home, when I choose not to tweet for a little while, and lord knows, I was never on Facebook up until a few weeks ago (I sign in under someone else's account...), and on those days, I kinda feel free. Like I can do whatever, stop and smell the roses, push an annoying New Yorker into ongoing traffic on 46th and 7th, whatever my heart desires and no one will know! No one! Looks like we all have a decision to make: computer love or the real kind.

That bitch stole my line,

xoxo

Blackie Collins

Last One Down The Aisle Wins

Last One Down The Aisle Wins. That's the title of a new relationship book that stresses the notion that anyone who gets married before the age of thirty, reduces their chances of staying married by half. Well, that isn't totally what the book is about, but I felt it was one of the most important points made. The authors state that while many twenty-somethings are running around searching for someone else, they should be spending those years gleaming the most important relationship they'll ever have: The one with themselves.

No one knows who they are at twenty-one and while they get closer as they move towards their thirties, there's still good ten years in there where things can go horribly wrong. This is why my motto has become: last one down the aisle wins.

I was having a drink with a friend a few nights ago when two older gentlemen sat down next to us. One donned a wedding band; the other sans. We were having separate conversations until I turned to him and said: How long have you been married?

He responded with: "About three weeks," to which me and my friend burst out laughing. Much to their "what's so funny" inquiries, we explained that we weren't expecting such a short time frame, being that he looked to be about forty (he was actually forty-one). I asked why he waited so long to get hitched and he said he'd been married before, when he was in his twenties and how it had been more of a passion-filled, infatuation-esque relationship versus his new bride who was his "best friend." His buddy, who had been quiet up until this point, then asked if I had ever been married. I responded no and I guess he caught something in my tone as he followed up with, "what's your issue with marriage?" I told him briefly that I had no issue, but that I subscribed to the last one down the aisle notion, that I'd almost made the mistake once before, that I'd never do it again. I'd just wait it out, fight the good fight. He nodded in agreement as I explained, but you know what ol married dude said? "But don't you want kids?"

Sure, that's the only reason women are plopped on earth, right? I told him I didn't know and while they were a little thrown off, they got over it, brushing it off with, "you want children, you just haven't met the right one to have them with yet."

Thanks, for figuring it all out, Mr. Freud. And being that they're in their forties, it's possible they know more than I do, but the point is this: as we continued to discuss marriage and relationships, I found out that his summer was similar to mine in that his social circle was full of weddings...except his were second time weddings. Most of his friends had all been married before and had moved on from starter wife to future second ex-wife. I'm kidding, but seriously, you have to admit that this last one down the aisle idea is pretty spot on. Spend your twenties traveling, building a career, enjoying a full social life, dating, and more importantly, learning who you are! I'm not saying blow off whoever you're lovin on during your twenties, but keep it in perspective. If you plan on spending the rest of your lives together anyway, what's wrong with waiting a little while longer to ensure you make it to the finish line?

That bitch stole my line,

xoxo

Blackie Collins

When Two Become One

I've been thinking a lot about the spaces in your head and your heart. How you can have more than one spot for more than one person and I'm weighing the pros and cons, wondering if it's really possible to want more than one person at the same time.

We know that it's possible to do so over a longer period of time, such as a lifetime. We hear people say such pillow-stitched sayings like: love of your life, but what about when you get to love more than one person in your lifetime. It's completely possible. My grandmother's been married three times. Now I think she'd say my grandfather is her great love, but you can't tell me she didn't love the other two who preceded him. My aunt was married three times as well and while she's currently remarried, I think it's clear to most that her heart will always be with her second husband who died of cancer after ten years together. Lastly, high school best friend is already married and divorced at 28. She has boyfriend and it's serious. That's love number two for her and that not counting her high school or college "loves." So there's three examples of people who've definitely had their share of various loves in their one lifetime.

But then there's wanting two people at the same exact time. That's when I start to dig and pull apart, curious as to how a person can truly be torn between two different people. Well there's that-the fact that the desired two are probably very different thus causing the confused individual to want both in order to have the best of both worlds.

I'm prone to think it isn't possible to want more than one person simultaneously. Not for real. You're always going to want one just a little bit more than the other and yet, at the same time, you have to think of the absolutes. If you don't know whether you want me or not than you do know one thing: you don't want me. Does that make sense? See, being unsure means you don't want what's in front of you because if you knew what was in front of you, you wouldn't be confused at all. I'm that good.

I'm kidding.

Not really.

And then I think of the possibilities. Our hearts are huge! Able to love as many as possible. Think about it: we love our families, god, our friends, pets, and whomever else our hearts allow in. Love, in it's basic form or even affection, is completely possible to dole out in as many outlets as necessary. If love is, in fact, all we need, aren't we obligated to pass it around?

But that's also all very extreme. Say it isn't love. Say it's simple affection or having feelings beyond friendship altogether. Obviously it's possible to have those feelings for different people at the same time...After all, isn't that what (nonxclusive)dating is?

And many would say who you give your feelings to is a choice and choosing someone is a rational, clear thought. Yes, it can hit you out of nowhere so to speak, but making the decision to give weight to those feelings is the door you pick. It's a chance you're deciding to take. Like being married and then meeting someone else with whom you have amazing chemistry. You have to avoid choosing circumstances that will inevitably lead you to exploring that chemistry and thus cheating on your husband/wife. You chose that outcome in a lot of ways, maybe even in all ways.

So at the end of all this, I guess it's possible, but what you do with it is completely up to you. If you happen to be the desired few, I assume you just need to figure out if you want to wait around to be "picked." If you're the confused, I guess you go about pulling yourself from between the rock & the hard place and pray they both don't drop your ass before you figure it all out.

What do you guys think? Ever been stuck in a predicament like this? Were you one of the two waiting to get picked or were you ever the one totally into two different people?

That bitch stole my line,

xoxo

Blackie Collins

A Manhattan Story

I've spoken before about the chance meetings that take place in this city. The times you've sat down at a crowded cafe only to have someone interesting share your table with you, strike up an intriguing conversation, and then wish you a good day, content with never seeing each other again. In a city this huge, well not really huge, but this populated, it's just a matter of time before you crash into someone else or just brush by them in life, no second thought given...

It was a muggy, summer day. The subway platform, as per the summer status quo, was like an oven, and everyone took whatever possible precautions necessary to relieve themselves in some way. From the sweaty lady with the bite size portable fan inches from her baby's face to the man with a small, cold washcloth draped around his neck, everyone was connected by the heat, sharing in it's oppression.

The subway finally flew into the station bringing a hot, dirty, yet still welcomed gust of air with it. We all hopped aboard, amidst a sea of wiped foreheads, ponytails yanked off necks, the first few breaths of air conditioned relief.

My car was relatively empty, but only compared to the usual stereotypical packed subway ride. As I sat down, I was finally cooling off.

And then he sat down across from me.

He was the color of a dark Hershey bar and while I hate dark chocolate in it's sugary form, I'd been falling for the skin color for decades. His eyes were the shape of almonds, his lips like ripe, full grapes. I was getting hungry.

He looked up, I looked away, hoping there was no drool on my face. But I felt him staring at me, felt his gaze zeroing in on me and I couldn't help it. I looked back. He looked away. Cat and mouse, who would break first. I noticed a tattoo peaking out the V of his t-shirt, more swirling down his arms. I might break first.

He looked at me again and this time he smiled. Good lord, I was just about done. I might've married him, given him six children without even hearing him speak. He could've sounded like Mike Tyson for all I knew, but something told me he probably didn't. He probably sounded like smooth jazz or a healthy dose of 90s R&B. If I was really lucky he'd sound like Idris Elba and then they'd need EMTs on this subway, cause I'd die. Twice.

My stop was approaching and we were just sitting there grinning at each other, enjoying the view more than the ride. The train eased to a halt. It was time to go, for me at least as he didn't budge.

I stood up, gathered my stuff, and headed for the door, standing right next to him as I waited for the train to slow, stop completely, the doors to open, releasing me into the heat, away from this comfy subway car.

His hand touched my arm. "You should ride some more."

Sh*t.

The double meaning was driving me up a creek on an inflatable lifeboat with a hole in it, no ore, and a pair of arm floaties as my saving grace. I was about to go down.

The doors opened. I stalled, but remembering my extremely important appointment, I had to get off. Damn career.

"You should get off," I replied.

He smiled resignedly and shook his head. "Can't."

Maybe he had an appointment too. I stepped off the train, hit by a gust of absurd heat, but as the doors closed I looked back. He was looking at me.

"Shame," he said as the doors locked and the subway car snatched him away. I thought about banging on the window, shouting my phone number the way they did in chase commercials that ended with a happily ever after. Somehow I didn't think it'd go down as cutely.

So instead, I watched the subway disappear out the station and then hurried up into the city's maze.

I guess I'll see you next life time...that certainly sounds divine.

That bitch stole my line,

Xoxo
Blackie Collins

Dude Sit Down: Payment Plan

I am going to kick of the week with a round of Dude, Sit Down. This one is dedicated to my cheap skates and my cheap dates. This one is all about drink-buying and dinner-purchasing. It's really very simple. It isn't rocket science, unless you have the brain of a toddler, which some of y'all do, let's be honest. But here it is. The moment you've been waiting for. Wait for it. Wait for it.

YOU HAVE TO PAY.

I would just say thank you and good day, but we know I can't leave it like that and if I did, none of you would learn anything so onward we go.

Protocol. There are rules to these engagements and you must pay to play. You see a woman in a bar or lounge and want to chat her up? Go right ahead, is her glass empty? Yes? Well, I guarantee you'll get at least 3 minutes of talk time if you buy her a round. 3 minutes you say? How on earth? Well, A) there's the time it takes to wait for the drink to be made and B) the time it takes for her to take a few prerequisite sips in your actual presence before running off to find her girls. If you don't promote yourself into more time during those 3 minutes, I don't know what to tell you. But don't blame it on the alcohol that you had to purchase for your lack of nightly entertainment, blame it on your boring ass conversation that made her say, "Thanks for the drink" and teeter off to the beat of on to the next, on-on to the next.

Manners are manners are manners. How are you going to ask me on a date, escort me into the inside of sidewalk, let me walk in the door first while holding it open, maybe even pull out my chair for me, but when the bill comes expect Ed O'Neill and Ethan Embry to pop up for a reenactment of Dutch. What land do you live in where all's inclusive except for the actual date, itself. I didn't ask you out, I didn't invite you to have another martini, I didn't insist you get the filet. So why do I have to split the check with you again? In the story of boy meets girl and supposedly COURTS girl to impress girl, where does it say, "Girl pays for her own meal on the first date." I bet that book wasn't a best seller.

Talkin' bout my generation. Perhaps what bothers me most is that this seems to be a new trend. I've read a lot of blogs lately by males about how they despise paying for a girl's drink or talked to men who think a new world order should be in place by itemizing the dinner check when it's delivered just to "keep it funky." This is bullsh*t quite frankly. I don't recall having to worry about paying for my own drinks or dinner or trip to Fiji back in the day. I have a clear memory of my prom date's parents giving him money for the night so when the limo dropped us off at Che Foo Foo, my little tuxedo clad boyfriend could be the MAN for the night and pay for our dinner. It didn't matter that technically his parents were footing the bill. What mattered was that he was taught, in the eleventh grade to take care of the lady's meal. That it was par for the dating course. Now perhaps it all fell apart when women started burning their bras and claiming they were I-N-D-E-P-E-N-D-E-N-T. Or maybe it was the abuse of the rules by getting ol boy to buy four drinks for her and her homegirls only to run off when he turned to pay the bill. I honestly don't care what it was. There are still some of us who are hip to the manners game and I don't think we should have to pay for the sins of the ignorant nor do I think guys should use it as their long awaited scapegoat to get out of paying.

Mama/Sister Factor. Sometimes it just comes down to how you would want your mother or sister to be treated. Before you get your boxers in a bunch, no, I'm not your mother or sister, but the overall respect for females from a lot of you has just dropped in a major way. I don't know where it came from, I don't know why, but I know it should go on ahead and bury itself in Potter's Field, anonymously going awa into the night. It's just apart of the games of respectfully dating. You, the man, pays. You probably think it isn't fair. It probably seems like a double standard. Well, I mean this in the kindest way B knows how to say it: Two tears in a bucket.

I think you know the rest.

I'd love to hear the male vs. female thoughts on this topic. Go ahead, let's dance.

That bitch stole my line,

xoxo

Blackie Collins