One of the things I miss about being a kid is how easy it was to make friends, girlfriends in particular. You show up to algebra class and are assigned to work with the chick next to you. Friend. You’re late to school and have to slip into math class unnoticed, when someone discretely opens the door for you. Friend. Your senile English teacher keeps confusing you with the Italian -- not the other black girl -- in class, simply because you both get good grades. Friend, Amico.
But it gets harder to make those connections when you’re an adult. My post college years were spent in a state where I knew absolutely no one. Everyone in my satellite office was older, married and too uninteresting for me to want to hang out with. So I went on the prowl for some friends, and wound up with a series of one night stand friends. You know those friends, the ones you only hang out with because you don’t want to go to that movie/concert/art exhibit/restaurant by yourself? Well I had quite a few. There was the Insecure one, who often needed to be told that there was nothing wrong with her outfit; the Alcoholic one, who peed in my car after a night of drinking; the Cheap one, who could never do anything because she always “only had $5”; and the Hypochondriac, who had to bail on several outings because she didn’t have her back acne medication. It took me quite a while before I found some good friends who fill the void.
So that brings me to today. See, I’ve met someone. *blushes* Rosie and I have had casual conversations as we wait for the gym doors open at 6 a.m. I’ve learned we have a lot in common. She’s around my age and appreciates fine literature and cinema as much as I do. That’s right, she’s a Harry Potter/True Blood/Lord of the Rings/Game of Thrones kinda gal. So when Alcide (True Blood) disrobed shortly before transforming into a werewolf, we swooned together all throughout spin class. When she and her boyfriend got tickets to the Harry Potter Theme Park, we became screaming teenage girls. When she bought the Game of Thrones book series, she promised I could borrow it since I was HBO-less when the series aired. But those 15 minutes we chat before class just doesn’t seem enough, and after class we’re both running to work. I’d like to take things to the next step -- dinner, a movie maybe -- but I’m not sure how to go about it without seeming like a weirdo. Yet there is something about Rosie that whenever I see her, the theme song to ‘Girlfriends’ rings out in my head.
Rosie sent me an email recently, letting me know that a work project is interfering with her workouts, so she won’t be back to class until like mid August. Well, that sucks, and I told her so. Then we did our True Blood and Harry Potter gossip and that was that. But what now? Do I email her back with my opinions on last season’s True Blood (Can you believe what Bill did to Sookie? And OMG! That ALCIDE!!)? Do I ask if she’s finished Friday Night Lights yet, and how will we ever survive without Coach Taylor? Do I inquire about the Game of Thrones book? Or do I ....*sigh*.... wait till August? Anyway, it’s all under consideration. Thankfully, I do have a nice amount of good friends. It is rare that I want to open the circle for one more, but Rosie seems like she might have the qualifications.
And as a tribute to good Girlfriends everywhere, here’s a clip of the only web series I’m watching these days:
Showing posts with label postcards from OT. Show all posts
Showing posts with label postcards from OT. Show all posts
Friday, July 29, 2011
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Beachbound
It's late.
I just finished washing clothes.
My bed is covered with said clothes.
I haven't packed a thing.
All of that means one thing: I'M GOING OUT OF TOWN TOMORROW!!!!
I'm headed to the beach for a little while to get some much needed R&R. I took off today so I could get prepared for my trip, but as you can see, not much has happened on that front. What can I say? I'm the Last Minute Queen. I thrive on tight deadlines. It's an art form.
Soon, I'll start tossing things into my getaway bag. Then I'll make a list of the last minute things I need to do. My cat will roll his eyes and give me his "You better leave me enough food this time" look. It'll all come together smoothly ... it always does.
So, I guess at some point, I'll need to move away from this computer and start expediting the situation. But I'm watching The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo on Netflix and I'm not sure I'll be able to move until I've finished.
Anyway, everyone enjoy your weekends! I hope to post some pix when I return.
I just finished washing clothes.
My bed is covered with said clothes.
I haven't packed a thing.
All of that means one thing: I'M GOING OUT OF TOWN TOMORROW!!!!
I'm headed to the beach for a little while to get some much needed R&R. I took off today so I could get prepared for my trip, but as you can see, not much has happened on that front. What can I say? I'm the Last Minute Queen. I thrive on tight deadlines. It's an art form.
Soon, I'll start tossing things into my getaway bag. Then I'll make a list of the last minute things I need to do. My cat will roll his eyes and give me his "You better leave me enough food this time" look. It'll all come together smoothly ... it always does.
So, I guess at some point, I'll need to move away from this computer and start expediting the situation. But I'm watching The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo on Netflix and I'm not sure I'll be able to move until I've finished.
Anyway, everyone enjoy your weekends! I hope to post some pix when I return.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
'Some days you’re the dog. Some days you’re the hydrant.'
I use the above phrase every now and again to deal with the times when I’m having a bad day. Which can happen to me every now and again. Hey, I’m only human.
A true testament of being the hydrant came this week. I should mention that the demographics have started to shift slightly in my department. These changes make me the only one in several categories, especially with the women. At 32, I’m the oldest. I’m the only sistah. And I learned recently that I’m the only one lacking something that every woman in their twenties and thirties tends to desire.
That’s right. I’m the only one without a ‘Dog.’
It was cool for awhile, being without a Dog. A coworker and I, Gabby, would go to the movies and for the occasional drink, while the rest of the chicks would be home tending to their Dogs. We’d laugh at them for their life choices. Surely they’d rather be with us, than with some mangy old beast that does nothing but eat, poop, and watch Sports Center. Surely they envied our independence, the fact that we could go out on a moment’s notice without worrying about what the Dog would eat for dinner or if it would be upset with us. We didn’t have to worry about phone calls in the middle of the day that documented whatever crisis the Dog may have gotten into. Gabby and I knew we had the upper hand. We chatted about Dogs a lot. We had our fair share and for a variety of reasons, we'd been solo for quite awhile.
Well, things started to change. Gabby started dressing nicer. She began laughing more. And her giggle, which is already a bit loud, got about five screeches higher. Then I learned through the rumor mill that it was true – dear Gabby had gotten a Dog. I congratulated her, then I thought about how the tide had shifted. All around me, there are women with Dogs. Some of the Dogs are good, some of the Dogs are bad. Some of the Dogs have officially been made members of the family, some of them (very few) have yet to make that step. Gabby is in the latter category, but things look promising.
There have been times when someone has asked me why I don’t have a Dog and I’ve been able to laugh it off. But with me now being the oldest woman – and the only one without a Dog – it’ll be interesting to see how I cope.
This week was a true testament to that. Another coworker – Phoebe – had a big announcement. Her Dog popped the question, so they are on their way to happyhood. I congratulated her, but I knew this would only be the beginning. I should mention that Phoebe is already unbearable on her birthday, running around every five minutes literally shouting “did you celebrate meeee today???”, so I knew she’d be particularly insane when it came to this. And I was right. She answered the phone several times to talk about how wonderful her dog was, her plans, etc etc. Between that and some other work challenges, I pulled a Ferris Bueller. I told them I wasn’t feeling well and I rushed to the mall and the movies. What’d I see? The Proposal! (But it was very funny, I might add)
I don’t like to compare my life to other women’s lives because that’s an impossible battle. I know we all have our personal struggles, whether our names be Michelle Obama, Oprah Winfrey, Florida Evans or Miranda Bailey. But dang it, I can covet with the best of em! There are times when I want nothing more than a good looking, fun loving Dog. One that won’t run away. One that won’t be impregnating all the other bitches in the neighborhood. One that will lick my face and nobody else’s. Then again, I wonder if I’m so set in my ways that a Dog wouldn’t fit well with my lifestyle. Another thought occurred to me recently: do I really want a Dog, or is it just that everyone’s pressuring me to get one? Deep thoughts.
Either way, I am genuinely happy for Gabby and Phoebe and I’ve told them so. I’ve even gotten used to Phoebe’s constant recounting of her popping the question story. I managed to give kind words with a smile. I can only hope I’ll be able to do the same the next time someone asks me when I’ll get a Dog.
A true testament of being the hydrant came this week. I should mention that the demographics have started to shift slightly in my department. These changes make me the only one in several categories, especially with the women. At 32, I’m the oldest. I’m the only sistah. And I learned recently that I’m the only one lacking something that every woman in their twenties and thirties tends to desire.
That’s right. I’m the only one without a ‘Dog.’
It was cool for awhile, being without a Dog. A coworker and I, Gabby, would go to the movies and for the occasional drink, while the rest of the chicks would be home tending to their Dogs. We’d laugh at them for their life choices. Surely they’d rather be with us, than with some mangy old beast that does nothing but eat, poop, and watch Sports Center. Surely they envied our independence, the fact that we could go out on a moment’s notice without worrying about what the Dog would eat for dinner or if it would be upset with us. We didn’t have to worry about phone calls in the middle of the day that documented whatever crisis the Dog may have gotten into. Gabby and I knew we had the upper hand. We chatted about Dogs a lot. We had our fair share and for a variety of reasons, we'd been solo for quite awhile.
Well, things started to change. Gabby started dressing nicer. She began laughing more. And her giggle, which is already a bit loud, got about five screeches higher. Then I learned through the rumor mill that it was true – dear Gabby had gotten a Dog. I congratulated her, then I thought about how the tide had shifted. All around me, there are women with Dogs. Some of the Dogs are good, some of the Dogs are bad. Some of the Dogs have officially been made members of the family, some of them (very few) have yet to make that step. Gabby is in the latter category, but things look promising.
There have been times when someone has asked me why I don’t have a Dog and I’ve been able to laugh it off. But with me now being the oldest woman – and the only one without a Dog – it’ll be interesting to see how I cope.
This week was a true testament to that. Another coworker – Phoebe – had a big announcement. Her Dog popped the question, so they are on their way to happyhood. I congratulated her, but I knew this would only be the beginning. I should mention that Phoebe is already unbearable on her birthday, running around every five minutes literally shouting “did you celebrate meeee today???”, so I knew she’d be particularly insane when it came to this. And I was right. She answered the phone several times to talk about how wonderful her dog was, her plans, etc etc. Between that and some other work challenges, I pulled a Ferris Bueller. I told them I wasn’t feeling well and I rushed to the mall and the movies. What’d I see? The Proposal! (But it was very funny, I might add)
I don’t like to compare my life to other women’s lives because that’s an impossible battle. I know we all have our personal struggles, whether our names be Michelle Obama, Oprah Winfrey, Florida Evans or Miranda Bailey. But dang it, I can covet with the best of em! There are times when I want nothing more than a good looking, fun loving Dog. One that won’t run away. One that won’t be impregnating all the other bitches in the neighborhood. One that will lick my face and nobody else’s. Then again, I wonder if I’m so set in my ways that a Dog wouldn’t fit well with my lifestyle. Another thought occurred to me recently: do I really want a Dog, or is it just that everyone’s pressuring me to get one? Deep thoughts.
Either way, I am genuinely happy for Gabby and Phoebe and I’ve told them so. I’ve even gotten used to Phoebe’s constant recounting of her popping the question story. I managed to give kind words with a smile. I can only hope I’ll be able to do the same the next time someone asks me when I’ll get a Dog.
Friday, November 09, 2007
Today ....
I am pissed off. Frustrated. Annoyed. Aggravated. Sad. I'm trying so hard not to be bitter, but I am losing that battle. And today was definitely not a good day to listen to Phyllis Hyman on pandora.com, but I did it anyway.
Today ...
I wonder why I even bothered to do the "right" things in my life -- get a degree, good job, wait until I'm married to have kids -- while it seems like everyone who does the opposite gets everything I want.
I am tired of being described as "sweet" and "the girl next door", by men who are screwing the chick around the way, the one they don't even like, just because she's ready, willing and able.
I want the folks from Trojan, Durex, LifeStyles, etc. to do a national demonstration on how not to make a condom break. But would anyone show up?
I wish I could direct my anger at the right target.
I wish there was no such thing as too good to be true.
I wish I could say I never felt this bad before.
Tonight, I will ...
Sit around in my pajamas and use up every tissue packet in sight.
Watch Grey's online and lust after McSteamy. (McDreamy's played out).
Drown my sorrows in burnt popcorn and cherry flavored Kool-Aid.
Cheer on "Dexter" as he chops people into bits and tosses them into the ocean.
And tomorrow, I will put on my fake smile and go about my business. I know things will get better. They have to.
(Photo from http://erkansaka.net/blog/archive/Metallica-StAnger-thumb.jpg)
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
How (Not) to Approach Me
Honestly, I’m not making this stuff up. Here are some transcripts of conversations I’ve had with men that I’ve met over the past few weeks.
(The scene: Salsa club. The dance floor is crammed with folks and I am having a blast, even tho I’m still trying to get adjusted to this salsa thing. Dude asks me to dance and I comply. But before I go out there, I warn him as I do all my other dance partners, that I’m a beginner. So we go out there. )
Him: You’re sure you’re a beginner? You’re doing perfect!
Me: No, you’re just saying that.
Him: No, I mean it. You’re very beautiful. I love your hair.
Me: Thank you.
Him: Do you have a boyfriend?
Me: Kinda. (The correct answer is no, but that’s my way of saying I’m not interested)
Him: Ah. That’s okay. I’m kind of involved myself.
Me: YOU’RE MARRIED??!!!
Him: No, no, no. I’m not married. I’m just in love with someone and she’s not talking to me.
Me: Oh. What’d you do?
Him: Let’s just say I was just being a man.
Me: (rolling eyes) Oh, you’re one of those.
Him: I don’t know what to do. I’ve tried everything, but she just won’t give in.
Me: How long has it been since she stopped talking to you?
Him: About a year.
Me: A YEAR??? Okay, I think she’s moved on.
Him: Well, I know she’s not married. I can’t give up on her.
Me: Interesting.
Him: Anyway, if you give me your email address I can add you to my online network. (He was talking about LinkedIn)
Me: Sure. It’s you_r_a_stalker@getaclue.com
(Scene: The library. Many times, I spend my lunch break at the library just catching up on some reading. This dude was sitting in front of me. While I was immersed in a book, he was staring out the window with a bunch of bags at his feet. I wondered if he was homeless, but he looked too well kempt for that)
Him: Hey sis. What you reading?
Me: (startled) Oh, nothing.
Him: Seriously, what is it? Is it a good book?
Me: Yeah, but …
Him: What’s it called? I might want to read it.
Me: (I reluctantly hold up the cover of the book, which is titled ‘Why I’m Still Married’. It’s actually a good book)
Him: (a look of horror on his face) You married, sis?
Me: No. It’s just a good book. These real life authors are talking about their marriages and some of them are in some crazy situations.
Him: Interesting.
He continues to chat over some time and I learn that he has college age children. He won’t tell me what he does for a living, but tells me about jobs he has held in the past (pastor, head of an AIDS clinic), which typically means that he’s unemployed. He asks for my email address and I give it to him as I’m about to leave. I’m not interested, but whatever. An email address, esp one that doesn’t list my last name, is harmless. I get up to leave.
Him: So, sis …
Me: (Didn’t I just tell your ass my name is Strength?) What?
Him: Um…. What’s up with the dreads?
Me: Nothing. It’s just my hair. And they’re locs.
Him: Hmmm. Ever had a perm?
Me: Yes. Before I had these.
Him: Ever considering getting one again?
Me: Nope, I sure haven’t.
Him: Oh.
Suffice it to say, this dude never emailed me. Darn! I was so looking to having so many stimulating conversations with this brainwashed old man. Sigh. Anyway, 'Why I'm Still Married' is a great book, particularly the essay from the woman involved in an open marriage and then she later starts an affair with her husband's girlfriend's husband. Drama, drama!
(The scene: Salsa club. The dance floor is crammed with folks and I am having a blast, even tho I’m still trying to get adjusted to this salsa thing. Dude asks me to dance and I comply. But before I go out there, I warn him as I do all my other dance partners, that I’m a beginner. So we go out there. )
Him: You’re sure you’re a beginner? You’re doing perfect!
Me: No, you’re just saying that.
Him: No, I mean it. You’re very beautiful. I love your hair.
Me: Thank you.
Him: Do you have a boyfriend?
Me: Kinda. (The correct answer is no, but that’s my way of saying I’m not interested)
Him: Ah. That’s okay. I’m kind of involved myself.
Me: YOU’RE MARRIED??!!!
Him: No, no, no. I’m not married. I’m just in love with someone and she’s not talking to me.
Me: Oh. What’d you do?
Him: Let’s just say I was just being a man.
Me: (rolling eyes) Oh, you’re one of those.
Him: I don’t know what to do. I’ve tried everything, but she just won’t give in.
Me: How long has it been since she stopped talking to you?
Him: About a year.
Me: A YEAR??? Okay, I think she’s moved on.
Him: Well, I know she’s not married. I can’t give up on her.
Me: Interesting.
Him: Anyway, if you give me your email address I can add you to my online network. (He was talking about LinkedIn)
Me: Sure. It’s you_r_a_stalker@getaclue.com
(Scene: The library. Many times, I spend my lunch break at the library just catching up on some reading. This dude was sitting in front of me. While I was immersed in a book, he was staring out the window with a bunch of bags at his feet. I wondered if he was homeless, but he looked too well kempt for that)
Him: Hey sis. What you reading?
Me: (startled) Oh, nothing.
Him: Seriously, what is it? Is it a good book?
Me: Yeah, but …
Him: What’s it called? I might want to read it.
Me: (I reluctantly hold up the cover of the book, which is titled ‘Why I’m Still Married’. It’s actually a good book)
Him: (a look of horror on his face) You married, sis?
Me: No. It’s just a good book. These real life authors are talking about their marriages and some of them are in some crazy situations.
Him: Interesting.
He continues to chat over some time and I learn that he has college age children. He won’t tell me what he does for a living, but tells me about jobs he has held in the past (pastor, head of an AIDS clinic), which typically means that he’s unemployed. He asks for my email address and I give it to him as I’m about to leave. I’m not interested, but whatever. An email address, esp one that doesn’t list my last name, is harmless. I get up to leave.
Him: So, sis …
Me: (Didn’t I just tell your ass my name is Strength?) What?
Him: Um…. What’s up with the dreads?
Me: Nothing. It’s just my hair. And they’re locs.
Him: Hmmm. Ever had a perm?
Me: Yes. Before I had these.
Him: Ever considering getting one again?
Me: Nope, I sure haven’t.
Him: Oh.
Suffice it to say, this dude never emailed me. Darn! I was so looking to having so many stimulating conversations with this brainwashed old man. Sigh. Anyway, 'Why I'm Still Married' is a great book, particularly the essay from the woman involved in an open marriage and then she later starts an affair with her husband's girlfriend's husband. Drama, drama!
Monday, August 13, 2007
Bubbles
I'm feeling a certain kind of way and I don't like to feel this way. Ever. The sweaty palms, the quickened heartbeat, the butterflies/bubbles in the stomach. Sigh. And they only seem to happen when I think of a certain someone.
I guess you could say I have a crush. He is someone who has become a friend, which makes the whole situation even better, or worse, depending on how you look at it.
See, I'm not used to this friend before dating thing. I'm used to "yo baby, can i get your number?", "yo baby, can i hit it?", "yo baby, goodbye." Obviously, I could use a change. My conversations with Crush are usually via modern technology, i.e. texting, i.m., emails. Afterward, I spend way too much time analyzing what was written to see if I missed some kinda clue that he was flirting with me. All I know is he's single and looking, I'm single and half-assly (is that a word?) looking and we hang out. I enjoy is company, but I've been trying not to get my hopes up too high and I've been scaling down my inner Joan Clayton.
We're going on a Not-Date this week. What is a Not-Date, you may ask? Well, it's not a date, that's for sure. It's just that we've discovered that we'll be attending the same party alone and we've made plans to go together. And this has actually caused major anticipation on my part, from trying to figure out what to wear in advance, to praying nonstop that it won't rain and cause me to Plan B the outfit.
Anyway, I'm happy to be doing the friend thing and taking things s l o w for a change. I'll tell him sometime in the future how I feel, if things work out. For now, I'm just going to enjoy the moment and pine from afar. Hopefully, he won't figure out that my new myspace song (Fantasia's "When I See U) is about him.
We're going on a Not-Date this week. What is a Not-Date, you may ask? Well, it's not a date, that's for sure. It's just that we've discovered that we'll be attending the same party alone and we've made plans to go together. And this has actually caused major anticipation on my part, from trying to figure out what to wear in advance, to praying nonstop that it won't rain and cause me to Plan B the outfit.
Anyway, I'm happy to be doing the friend thing and taking things s l o w for a change. I'll tell him sometime in the future how I feel, if things work out. For now, I'm just going to enjoy the moment and pine from afar. Hopefully, he won't figure out that my new myspace song (Fantasia's "When I See U) is about him.
(Photo from http://www.hometownfavorites.com/images/orange-crush.jpg)
Wednesday, August 08, 2007
Out There, But In There
Well, I went 'out there' just like I said I would. And after a few weeks of being exposed to that world, I'm racing right back into my shell.
Actually, being out there wasn't that bad, even though I didn't do it to the fullest. I did learn that nowadays this meeting people thing takes quite a bit of discipline, confidence and LOTS of money.
I found this group that coordinates dinners between groups of professional men and women with the intention of hook ups. I thought that would be kind of fun to do once or twice. After all, a girl's gotta eat. I emailed the facilitator for more information about memerships. What did I learn? You can't just have dinners and pay as you go; you have to buy a membership package. And these packages cost $250 and up. Hah! Onto the next venture.
I'm still window shopping on Achoo! Personals and Hatch, with no real results. I did a brief trial of Achoo! and talked to one guy from there on the phone. That one conversation was enough to tell me he was a dud. There was a guy I was interested in on Hatch, so I sent him a wink, which is how you let someone know you're interested. He winked back, but I'm a punk and talked myself out of making the next move. I still haven't paid the fee, so I can't read any emails he may have sent me and this was quite a few weeks ago. It would really surprise me if he even still had a profile up there. Oh well.
In the online world, there are two types of fellas that I've been prone to attract: Mr. Separated and Mr. I'll Tell You Later. I think Mr. Separated speaks for himself. That's the guy who's separated from his wife, yet he'll express interest in me. Do me a favor, buddy -- get divorced, wait a year or two, then try to get at me. And then there's Mr. I'll Tell You Later. This is the kind of guy who'll avoid pertinent questions on his profile:
Age -- I'll tell you later.
Marital status -- I'll tell you later.
Do you have children? I'll tell you later.
I mean, really. If you're a married, 45 year old man with five kids. Just say so! I wouldn't be interested, but I'm sure there's someone out there who would. But that's an area so far from my expertise that I won't even go there.
The best part of this experience was the cookout I attended recently. I was there chatting with a male acquiantance when he suddenly said, "I like your profiles." I didn't know what he was talking about, I assumed it was myspace, since we are myspace friends. Then he proceeded to tell me that he'd seen me on Hatch and Achoo! and liked what I had to say.
This jarred me for a moment, but shoot, I'm not ashamed. If he's on there, he's probably having the same issues in the dating world as I am. We began comparing notes on what we've got from each site and we've both had similar experiences. It seems like there's no easy way to navigate this wonderful world of dating. It's just so darn frustrating. Sigh. But I'll keep at it for now and let ya'll know if there's any progress.
Wednesday, June 06, 2007
Destination: Out There
I'm sure many single folks have heard this statement before. "What, you're not seeing anyone? You've got to get out there!' It would be easy if 'out there' was this place where you just slipped a quarter into a machine and the perfect man would fall out. Unfortuantely, in reality 'out there' is pretty much defined by clubs and bars -- places I typically stay away from.
(Photo from http://www.internationalreporter.com/images/lro_to_moon-1.jpg)
But the other day I looked in the mirror and decided that I am waaaay too fine to be sitting around with no one to talk to but my cat. I'm going to get 'out there' and see what I can see. I won't be doing too much club and bar hopping, but just trying to go out more often instead of limiting my world to work and home.
I took the first step the other day by joining meetup.com. It's a social networking thing where you hang out with folks with similar interests. I joined a few groups -- sunday movie buffs, first time home buyers, salsa and fitness. None of my groups are having any events any time soon. Later this month, I'll check out a home buying seminar and next month I'm doing a movie with this Sunday matinee crew. Ehhh.... it's something to do.
And I don't say all this because I'm looking for a man. I guess you could say I'm blindly looking. I signed up for a couple of online dating sites -- I'll call them Hatch and Achoo! Personals -- but only for the free trials. I can look at the clientele and they can look at me, but I can't make any real contact until I pay a fee. And I won't pay a fee until I see someone worthy, but I won't stress about it. All I want is someone who is single, childless, gorgeous, fit, rich, humorous, and hygenic with no arrest record who has all his limbs and teeth. Ok, I'm exaggerating a bit, but you get the point.
But being online again has helped me face an awful truth -- the fellas don't seem to be that into me anymore. Juicy warned me that guys would treat me differently once I decided to wear my hair natural and it's so true. These days, men barely give me a second look. There was a bit more interest when my hair was short, but now that it's locked, they're thinking 'here comes one of them earthy chicks. watch out.' There's been a significant change in the number of winks I get on Hatch now compared to when I did before, when I had a picture of myself with relaxed hair. Does hair make that big of a difference? Apparently so. Locks may be considered the hip sexy thing for men to do, but for women it's a no-no.
Anyway, I didn't want to turn this post into a long ramble session. I just wanted to put it out there that I'm going to make a greater effort toward being more social, to getting 'out there.' I'll be sure to keep you all posted about my experiences.
(Photo from http://www.internationalreporter.com/images/lro_to_moon-1.jpg)
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