Honorable Mentions

When my phone rings I am just getting my boys out of the bath tub and into bed. I glance at my caller ID and I don’t recognize the number but I answer anyway.

“Hi, is this Ms. Tee?”
“Yes, who is this?”
“This is Philip.” (The Morris Chestnutt look-alike I met on South Beach the night before)
“Ohh, HI!”
“You remember me?”
“Ofcourse I do. How could I forget?”
“Are you busy right now?”
“Yes I am, but you can call me back later.”
“I will. Save my number in your phone.”
“I will.”

I don’t.

I feel a vibration and I lift my head up and open one eye. It’s my cell phone. It’s under my pillow since I don’t have a night stand to sit it on yet. I look at my alarm clock which is perched vicariously atop a miniature suitcase which serves as my make shift nightstand. There’s only room for the alarm clock so I often sleep with my TV remotes under my pillow too.

The clock reads 10:16pm.

Damn, it’s early and I’m already asleep. I must be tired. I guess I’m not going out tonight.

I recognize the number this time, it’s Philip.

I answer sweetly.

“You sleeping?” he asks.

“Nope,” I lie. I’m curious to see what this brother is all about so I can make my mind up about him. Yeah, I admit when it comes to men I decide very quickly. If I even THINK that you are shady or lazy I cut it off, before I get too involved. Who says you can’t help who you fall in love with? Yes you can. You can’t fall in love if you don’t get losers a chance to begin with. I’ve learned my lesson.

“Can I ask you a couple of questions?” he asks. Mind you this is our first conversation since we met on South Beach.

“Sure,” I answer and smile. I’m used to being the one who asks the questions. This is kinda cool.
“What’s your last name?”

I pause. What a weird question. I tell him anyway.

“Are you mixed?” he asks me.


“Are you sure?”

“Yes I am sure. I get my green eyes from my Mama.”

“Oh, you just look like you’re mixed to me.”

“Well, I’m not.” ~rolling eyes~

Ohhh, I get it. He’s one of THOSE type of brothas. One of those dark skinned brothas who feels like he needs a mixed/lightskinned chick on his arm, probably to make light skinned babies. How sad. He was handsome too. I appreciate a man who appreciates my beauty, but I don’t want a man who is interested in me SOLELY because I can lighten up his offspring.

“Who do you live with?” he asks.

“I live with my two sons.”

“Ohh, you have kids! Why didn’t you tell me that?!”

“When was I supposed to? This is our first conversation.”

“I thought I asked you. I’m sure I did.”

“No you didn’t. I wouldnt lie about that.”

“So, two kids, huh?”

“Yeah. 4 and 2 years old. Great boys.”

“That’s nice.”

Awkward pause. So what you gonna do Buddy, sink or swim?

“Well, you tell me,” I ask him. “What’s YOUR last name?”

He stammers. “Uhhh, It’s just that I hate my last name.”

“Why would you hate your last name? Is it weird?”

“No, it’s Jean-Louis.”

“So you’re Haitian?”

“Yeah I am.”

“Does that mean you’re ashamed of being Haitian?”

“No, it’s not like that. I guess I had this issue since I was in middle school about being Haitian. It wasn’t the cool thing to be. I mean, I would deny it all day when people would ask me and girls didn’t like me when they found out. It wasn’t until highschool that I accepted that I was Haitian and stopped pretending. I think it was when the Fugees came out. Then it wasn’t so bad to be Haitian anymore.”

“I hear you, I remember those days. It’s crazy how the media portrays the Haitian culture. When I met a Haitian classmate for the first time, I was speechless because she didn’t look like those people I saw on TV. She looked a lot like me. Anyway, you make me feel like you are STILL afraid to admit you’re Haitian.”

“It’s not that. It’s just..my last name is sooo Haitian. And that bothers me. Everyone can tell automatically that I’m Haitian and I don’t really look like I’m Haitian.”

“Well, once I met this guy and I thought he was Haitian so I asked him if he was and he was shocked. He told me that no one can tell usually and that when someone says to him that he doesn’t ‘look’ like a Haitian, what they mean is that he doesn’t look ugly.”

“See!” he answers emphatically.

“See what?”

“That’s what I mean. I’m not ugly, but I am Haitian.”


He laughs.

“My first love was Haitian,” I tell him. I tell this story often. “But he broke my heart.”

“That happens sometimes,” he says.

“It sure does.”

We chat a bit more. He asks me about life after college and how I found a job. I tell him my story and end up feeling like I’m giving a motivational speech, assuring him that if he is diligent he will find his place in the world.

We hang up after he promises to call me back soon.

I hope not, I’m done with him.

I lean back and think about my conversation with Philip, then my mind wanders to the dinner I had earlier with another new ‘friend’.

Dinner was great. A little french restaurant that I found a few weeks ago. The food was magnificent and the conversation was interesting. But I was feeling a very funny vibe from him. I think I have my guard up and I’m wary of a guy who shows interest. I mean, what are you hiding? What is your motive?

After I met him, during our first conversation I mentioned that I blogged. He didn’t even know what a blog was and I was practically jumping up and down in anticipation of teaching him all about it. He is a young professional, 28 years old, corporate job.

After I explained blogging to him, he asked to see mine. I hesitated. Hmm, do you give away all your secrets so soon after meeting someone? My blog is the avenue to my soul. You either take me or leave me after reading it.

I decided to go ahead and give it to him. If he even reads it, at least he’ll know where I come from and where I am in all areas, mentally, emotionally and spiritually. I won’t have to explain much. We won’t have to play guessing games, if he’s mature he can like it or lump it.

The next day I get an IM from him. Like most men in technical fields, he’s into the internet and chatting too.

“It was amazing! He wrote me. I read the whole thing.”

Damn, he read the whole thing! He calls me on my cell to continue.

“It’s like a story. A story that doesn’t end. And it’s addictive.”

Now, I’m sure I heard that one somewhere before. Uh oh…

“I’m glad you like it.”

“Now tell me something. Am I going to end up as the subject of one of your stories?”

“Only if you make an impact on my life. Otherwise, no.”

“I don’t want to be in your story,” he says with a nervous laugh.

“I can’t promise that. It’s up to you to deal with me.”

“Man, I don’t want to be like that guy you wrote about who you had bad sex with.”

“Don’t forget about THE ATTORNEY.” I remind him.

“Yeah, damn. I don’t want my business out there like that.”

“Well, why are you so scared? Are you planning something bad? I only write according to what happens. You decide how your story will play out. But anyway, I don’t write about every man I meet on my blog, only those with an interesting story.”

Who knows, there may be no story to tell, you may never even get a mention. It’s all up to you.


Damn, after meeting all of these random men in this first half of the year I have to sit back and evaluate what kind of men I attract and why they are good (or bad) for me.

The Educated Brotha
Ain’t nothing turns me on more than an educated brotha. Introduce me to a man with multiple degrees and some letters after his name and I’m drooling. I expect him to have an extensive vocabulary and I start to tingle when he uses words I don’t know. I LOVE THAT SHIT! ~faints~
Pro: I learn a lot if he’s patient enough to explain to me what the hell he’s talking about.
Con: He knows that there are not many men out there doing their thing so he often walks around like he’s the first Black President.

The Arrogant Brotha
For some reason EVERY freakin man that I am attracted to will sit in my face and tell me that he is arrogant. Why do they tell me that? Is that supposed to impress me or is that a warning?
Pro: Arrogant men usually have something to be arrogant about.
Con: Arrogant men always think they are a step ahead of you and that you need to catch up with them.

The Young Brotha
Ooh Lawd, I may get into trouble for this one but the youngins LOVE Ms. Tee.
Pro: They are so eager to prove to you that they are grown. It’s cute.
Con: They ain’t ready…

The White Brotha
I think they think I’m exotic or something. One White Brotha told me, “Your skin is so beautiful, and when you sat next to me and I saw the contrast, oh, that was so nice. I think about that all the time.”
Pro: Nicer than most men I’ve met.
Con: I have this fear in the back of my mind that they can’t be serious about liking me.

The Old School Brotha
Ever since I’ve moved back to Miami, seriously, dudes have GOOGLED me (and used other crazy methods to find me so that they could tell me that they have loved me since MIDDLE SCHOOL! WTF?
Pro: It’s always nice to know someone thinks you’re great.
Con: They try too hard and I’m not interested. You couldn’t have me then, why would you think you could have me now?

The Passive Brotha
He’s the one with all the hints and no guts to go for the glory. Always saying things like, “Well, I sure don’t have anything to do this weekend.” But he never really asks me out. He just waits and hopes for me to give him the number, I do, finally, and he STILL doesn’t do anything, waiting for ME to make the next move.
Pro: Things will never go further than I want it to.
Con: Am I the MAN? Ugh… Men who want to be chased seem girly to me. And if it’s not about wanting to be chased then he’s lazy as hell and won’t be worth a damn in the bedroom.

The Internet Brotha *my fave*
He’s hundreds of miles away. But just one click away. I’ll never meet him, I’ll never have to deal with him. I can be as raw as I want WHEN I want. Communication is by MY choice. No wacko’s showing up at my crib unnanounced. No craziness. Just whatever I need, when I need it and that’s that. No strings.
Pro: I never have to wear make-up or find an outift.
Con: I look like the biggest loser with my overindulgent semi-fantasy online life.

I’m looking forward to meeting:

The Hispanic Brotha
The ‘I Can Hit It Right, (yeah) All Night (yeah)’ Brotha
The Fabulously Successful and Rich type Brotha
The Unique Brotha (who can handle a woman like me)

Stay Tuned

I’ve been praying a lot.

I’m trying to reconnect with God because I know that He never left me. I just feel like since I’ve been out of communication I lost the frequency and I need to find it again.

I have so much on my heart right now. I’m praying for direction. I need clarity on what I need to do first. I am very much a planning person and I wish life was one big TO DO list, cuz then it would make since to me.

There are some lofty career moves that I need to make and some really impressive opportunities presenting themselves to me, all the while I’m confronted with obstacles thrown my way by my baby daddy. It’s like he will not leave me be. He will not let me go on and do my thang without trying to bring unrest into my life.

It’s funny though, as much drama as he brings, somehow, I am still happy. I am still joyful. I still enjoy my children and look forward to much success. It’s as if my soul knows where I am headed and it is rejoicing in advance.

Sometimes it seems as though evil prevails. Sometimes it seems as though you can’t just can win by doing right. And then sometimes, the good guy gets his time in the spotlight and everyone else who is going through feels like they have the victory too.

You don’t have to pray for me. You don’t have to worry. All I ask is for your attention as God gets the glory in my life. Just watch how He handles all this mess and recognize His power and His love.

I trust Him.

I feel like throwing up

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I can’t believe we lost last night.

I can’t believe I care.

When did I become a sports fan?

I have no idea, but I am.

Last night I put the boys to bed and sat down with my remote in my hand. I wanted to watch the Heat game. I rolled my eyes. All these damn channels, I can NEVER find the channel I want to watch. Is there some kind of guide or something on paper?!!! Damn!

Then I remembered that Anna called me earlier while I was bathing my sons. I dialed her number.

“What’s up chick?” I asked.
“Just wanted to let you know the channel is 245 so you can support our boys.”
“DAMN!!!! I can’t believe this! I was JUST sitting here mad cuz I didn’t know what channel it was on. This MUST be the Lord.” I laughed.
“Alright, I have to go. I just wanted you to watch the game.”
“Later chick.”

We were winning at first and I was so happy. Then it was close. Okay, I’ll admit. I wasn’t really paying much attention to the score. I mean, how could I? Have you SEEN those players? Oh my gosh, they are FINE! All dark and lovely and sweaty with muscles. Mmmm… I couldn’t believe it. They look so strong and so rough. Like maybe they could handle a chick like me. I’d love to submit to any one of them.

~singing Tevin Campbell~ Tell me what you want me to dooooo…..

What’s that dude’s name? Dwayne Wade. They spelled his name wrong on the screen a couple of times. He is so georgeous! Like, I would have about 2 or 3 of his babies. The way his muscles rippled as he strode down the court. And did you see Shaq?!! He is so big! When he was guarding that guy it was like, he just stood there. I’m thinking, “I wouldn’t want to be the guy that Shaq is up against.”

But my heart sank in the last quarter. It was so close. So close. It felt like the world was ending as I saw the Detroit fans jumping up and down in victory. Did we really lose? Did Miami, the greatest city in the country REALLY lose?

Now, I had to sit back and evaluate my brand new emotions. What am I feeling? I was born and raised in Miami but before this year, I didn’t give a damn about sports. Well, except for the GATORS BABY! ~realizing~ Wow. This is how I felt about the Gators. Ofcourse I rarely watched a game but when the Gators played I wanted them to do well because I felt like they were representing ME! When they won, I won. When they lost, I lost and I felt sad.

This is exactly how I feel about the Heat. They are MY team representing MY town and ME!

I am so sad. I wish I could give them all a hug to let them know that on any given day we are a better city than DETROIT.

It’s official. I’m attached. We’re bonded at the heart.

Wow. The birth of a fan.

All HEAT players are always welcome at my house!

Damn it feels good…

Now I can’t lie, when my kids are with their father, life is nothing but pure pleasure.

Picture me in the cold ass AC, lying across my bed in a wife beater and a thong, with a BRAND NEW MAGAZINE and a cold glass of Hypnotiq. There’s not a sound to be heard. Only the hiss of the airconditioner as it blows gently on my body.

My eyes shift to the right. I see my car keys on my computer desk. Hmm.. I think to myself. I can leave if I want to. I can get up, get dressed, and walk right out of that door and just, go somewhere. For real… I can do it. I mean, I can just go, outside, right now, and go OUT!

I don’t have to get anyone else ready. I don’t have to make sure anyone goes to the bathroom. I don’t have to answer a million questions about where we’re going and who we’re going to see. Ahh….LOL!

I can leave and take a leisurely drive down thru the neighborhood but… this bed is feeling so good. This air is feeling so good. I am feeling so good. So sexy, relaxing, accomplished, breath taking, I feel like a woman. I am the shit.

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Damn, I needed this break.

What’s Up Chico?

Remember when I said I was looking forward to meeting Mr. Hispanic Guy (for personal reasons, he, he..)? Well, I must say that if this man does not fit the bill perfectly I don’t know who does. He is absoultely RAVISHING. I hope I never meet him because I will make a fool out of myself. He is so beyond fine.

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Daddy Yankee ~ Gasolina


Something About You

With the giant wave of reality based television flooding the airwaves one could argue that the pseudo celebrities it produces will never have the lasting impact on the entertainment industry that their counterparts who trudged their way up to stardom often endured throught years of rejection and failure.

Regardless of their seemingly pop tart route to fame, there are two reality television stars that have blown me away with…with… man, I can’t describe it. They just have “it”. That special something that celebrities have that none of us will ever imitate or duplicate. There’s something about them that makes us like them for no particular reason and has us rooting for their success like they were our long lost cousin.

She has IT!

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Ms. Eva Pigford, BKA Eva the Diva.

Now even if you didn’t catch the season of America’s Next Top Model that has boosted her to Supermodel status, just one look into the eyes of this natural beauty and you will be hooked. There’s something about her that makes me like her. Something about her natural glow that propels me to celebrate her beauty and style and send up prayers that she receive nothing more than the best from the entertainment industry. Eva is simply amazing. I am so proud that she made the cover of Essence for my birth month. I was so happy for her! I felt like it was me!

She is a natural superstar and I wish her much success.

Who is he?

Who is this 15 year old kid from– where is he from again? I can’t remember. All I know is while watching BET yesterday with my girl, Anna I saw a program that made me smile. There were these 5 kids in a music group, kinda like Makin The Band. Except I couldn’t really compare the shows since I never watched Makin The Band but Anna said they were similar. The group is called Fatty Koo, yeah, kind of a weird name huh? But what is NOT weird is the unmistakeable talent that each member posesses.

While most musical groups divide up and go their seperate ways after making it big, I predict the same thing will happen to this group, BUT I can already tell who is going to be the superstar.

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His name is Joshua Welton and he’s only 15 years old.

To watch him dance reminds me of Usher. His looks remind me of Justin Timberlake. This young man has the same natural charm that Eva the Diva has and as soon as he enters the group, it’s as if he was the missing ingredient that they had no idea even existed. He set the group off! And he is young enough to capture the young teens hearts and still have time to grow up, fill out and get the women all fired up.

I think Josh Welton is in it for the long haul.

Keep your eye on Josh and Eva the Diva- The Creme of the Reality Crop.

NY meets Miami

I had a wonderful time last night. After getting dressed in some blue capris and a matching blue and silver top I was ready to go! I knew I looked good, I was sweating myself! LOL!

I am on my way to meet Will, a blogger out of Harlem. He let me know that he would be in Miami on business and being the gracious host that I am who LOVES to show off her city, I agreed to meet up with him and show him around a bit. I didn’t know what to expect, but our previous phone conversations were very comfortable and I figured he would be easy to get along with. If not, I could always say I couldn’t find a babysitter and get out of hanging with him. ~smile~

I hopped into my car and rode down to South Beach. I can’t believe that I made it there in 12 minutes. I called Will and asked him where his hotel was. He told me 45th and Collins. Damn! I was on 11th and Alton. So I found Collins and rode it all the way back north to 45th street. It wasn’t hard to find. He told me where to park and asked me to meet him in the lobby.

I walked into the big beautiful building and saw a few people sitting in the lounge talking and laughing. I spied the bar. Oohh.. I’ll have a drink while I wait for him. I order a glass of white wine and sip slowly inhaling every sight and sound. A few minutes pass by and Will doesn’t show up.

The female bartender who has these huge boobs, asks me if I’m on vacation. “I wish.” I think to myself. “It would be so nice to stay in a place like this. This hotel is beautiful.”

I’m still sipping and waiting when my phone rings. It’s Will.
“Where are you girl?”
“I’m at the bar.”
“I thought I told you to meet me in the lobby. I’ve been standing out here for five minutes looking for you.”
“Oh well, I’m at the bar…”
Before I can finish my sentence I feel a presence behind me and I turn around. It’s Will.

He sits down at the bar stool next to mine and looks at my drink.
“Well,” he says. “I was going to wait until we had dinner to start drinking but I see you couldn’t.”
I laugh. “I’m almost done.”
“Have you paid for your drink yet?” he asks me.
“Ms. How much is this drink?” he asks the bartendar with the huge boobs.
“I’ll check.” she says and goes to look at her computer thingy.
“Now how she NOT gonna know how much a glass of white wine costs?! Ain’t this her job?!” Will says.
I laugh.
“$13” she responds.
He and I both raise our eyebrows at that.
“What do you expect? It’s South Beach.” she answers.
He pays for the drink and I take one last sip before we stand up. “I’m tipsy,” I tell him.

Talking with Will is so easy. But walking with Will is not.
He’s taking these huge steps and I have to stop him and remind him that I’m only 5’1″ and I can’t keep up.
“I just wanted to see if you’d trip, seeing how tipsy you are.” he says and slows down a bit.

We make our way over to the restaurant on the terrace. It’s nice outside, the beach is just a few feet away. We can hear the surf pounding the shore and smell the salty sea water in the air.

We are seated and order our drinks and food and Will tells me not to drink anything else until I’ve eaten. I don’t know what it is, but I begin to feel tight in my chest. Like I can’t breathe.

“Will, I can’t breathe right now.”
“Um, yeah I’m just a little tight and I left my inhaler home.”
He shakes his head.
I laugh. “I’ll be alright. I just need to concentrate on my breathing.”
“Deep breaths,” he coaches me.

The food comes and it is excellent. We both eat everything on our plates but Will can’t handle the peach vodka drink he ordered. He didn’t even drink half of it talking about, “Next time I’ll have a mixer with that.”

His colleagues stop by our table to say Hi and I am introduced to them. Awww..New Yorkers in Miami. What a treat for them!

“Well,” I tell him with a smirk. “I didn’t expect you to be…well, this attractive.”

“Ohhh, you thought I was gonna be wack?” he asks with a serious expression. “That’s messed up.”

“Sorry.” I tell him and laugh and laugh. He’s so funny!

I think the best thing about hanging with Will is the fact that we share the same love for writing. I didn’t have to explain to him what a blog was. He loves blogging as much as I do and that is exciting for me. Regardless of any differences we may have, our passion is the same and that is what bonds us automatically. I think he’s a great guy.

After our meal and some interesting dinner conversation Will and I head for the beach. His hotel isn’t on the noisy crowded end of South Beach so the beach is pretty quiet and after walking for a bit we discover that we have quite a bit of sand to ourselves.

We sit down facing the ocean and I laugh at him. I don’t even remember what I was laughing about but I know I was feeling great and enoying my night tremendously.

“Can you sing?” he asks me.
My heart jumps. I LOVE to sing, but I sound horrible, but I sing anyway, cuz it’s sooo much fun!
“I LOVE TO SING!” I tell Will.
“Sing something for me,” he asks.
I clear my throat.
“I hope,” I began solemnly in my best Whitney Houston impression. “Life treats you kind. And I hope you have all you dreamed of….And IIIIIIIIII eee-iiiiii– Will always LOVE YOU- OOHHHH- IIII- WILL ALWAYSSSS LOVVVVE YOOOOOOOOOO!!!!”

“Stop that!” Will says with a firm hand on my shoulder. “People are gonna think I’m torturing you.”

“Hey!” I say and blush.

We end up doing a little freestyle rhyme and singing a few songs together. I’m listening to him sing and I’m thinking, “Wow. He doesn’t sound too bad.” We are actually trying to harmonize and it doesn’t sound too bad. Hmm… maybe we could get a record deal. LOL!

We’re sitting in the sand looking out at the dark sky. There are only a few stars out and the wind is lulling us to sleep. It WOULD have been a nice, serene occasion, but Will won’t stop talking! LOL!

He’s making me laugh so much! My cheeks hurt from smiling my real smile, not my fake smile that I do for pictures.

“Oh wait.” he says and turns to me. “I have to do this or Yolanda will kill me.” He gives me a big hug that he says Yolanda told him to give me. I laugh. He’s so crazy.

I suggest we leave the beach area and we walk back to his hotel and sit out by the pool and talk for a little while more. I’m not really ready to leave but it’s getting late and I don’t want to be too tired to drive home.

“I think it’s time for me to go.” I tell him.
He looks a little sad. “Ok, let me walk you to your car.”

We walk to my car and he tells me that he is glad I came down to see him.

I smile. I’m glad I did too.

I am taking him out on Saturday and I am sure we will have even more fun. I am so looking forward to it.

It was very nice to meet you, Will.