Pretty Hot And Tempting

Yes, I’ve been hanging out with Taylor and we’ve had some very interesting conversations. I’m tripping over the fact that this dude and I vibe so well, and well…he’s ~whispering~ white.

Now, I’m not a racist…. LOL! I hate when people say that, but in this case it’s true, it’s just I have only ONE white friend (Hi Ryan!) in real life and the others I’ve met through the net, I haven’t actually MET yet.

But THIS dude! Lord have mercy! This dude is hella sexy. It takes everything in me not to flirt with him. But I’ve been doing well so far, just enjoying the conversation and the company. It’s been a long time since I’ve been around a man who wasn’t attracted to me or at least been around a man who wasn’t try to get some, so I’ve been enjoying this feeling..this feeling of…feeling like an actual person instead of a piece of p**y.

Tonight I called him up, “Hey Taylor what are you doing?”


“What do you feel like doing?”

“What do you have in mind?” he asks.

“Let’s get something to drink,” I suggest.

“Sounds good, I’ll be down in a minute.

We ride to the store and pick up some beer and head back to his room to watch TV. We’re drinking and laughing and talking about everything under the sun, clicking through the channels to see if we can agree on something to watch.

We finally see a movie coming on and we both like what we see, so we stop surfing, but we’re still sharing stories about our lives. Taylor got his undergrad degree in PE so he’s looking for PE Coaching jobs. He’s getting his masters in Sports Management.

“Hey T!” I screech when I get a bright idea. “Would you help me to get FINE!” I’m smiling and thinking about how great it would be if I toned up a little.

“What?” he says.

“I want you to help me get FINE!”

He frowns at me and turns his head. “You don’t need any help with that.”

Huh? Wait a minute… Nah..He’s not flirting with me.

Later on we’re laughing and talking again and I’m leaning forward on the edge of his bed while he’s leaning back against the wall.

“Oh my gosh! Did you see that?” I ask him, pointing to the TV screen.

“Naw..It’s kinda hard to watch TV when I got somebody like you sitting next to me,” he says and looks me straight in the eye.



Somebody better hold me back!

This sexy ass, fine ass, tall ass, young ass, college student ass, cool ass, intelligent ass, backwards cap wearing ass, white boy better not come near me!

SOMEBODY lock me in my room cuz if he don’t stop playin with me…


Ms. Tee is about to cross the color line!

A Detached Viewpoint

Oh gosh…

Me and my emotions…

I was feeling good all day until I went to class.

When the teacher said, “Turn to chapter 8, today we will be discussing committed relationships and dating.” my eyes started to tear.

After about an hour of listening to people tell stories of their courtships and how their relationships began, I couldn’t take it anymore. Tears were streaming down my cheeks and I couldn’t calm myself down so I left. I walked back to my car and sat down and I cried and cried.

I don’t know why I decided to get a masters in Relationship Counseling. How in the hell did I end up here? I have no personal experience. I don’t date anyone at all. All I do is have one night stands and then move on. I don’t know what it’s like to meet someone and like them and have them like me back. I have no idea what that feeling is when you are attracted to someone and they tell you that they want to be with you in a relationship.

I try to remember from what I had with my BBDD but that shit was all fucked up so…I don’t like to think about that.

This shit is taking a toll on me. I’m always the outsider in class discussions, bringing a detached viewpoint of relationships.

I don’t know what to say.

I have nothing to say.

All I know is..having to talk about this stuff, it really reminds me that I’ve never had that and I can’t imagine that I ever will. Sure, I try to write stories about Steve, my imaginary boyfriend, but those are even hard to come up with because I have nothing personal to pull from.


Kiss & Tell

Come on…

You know I had to see what Taylor had to offer.

When I told my friends that I slept with him they all wanted to know, “What was it like to sleep with a white man!”


That shit was off the chain!

I’ll be honest though, I don’t think it had much to do with his skin color. That dude is just sexy as hell and he knows what he is doing. It wasn’t much different from being with a Black man, except he had blonde hair all over his body.

“Ughhh!” one of my friends said. “I can’t believe you did that!”

“Umm, close your mouth, it was not what you would expect.”

First of all, that myth that all white dudes have small ~you know whats~? Child please! Taylor was packing just as much if not MORE than the average Black man that I’ve experienced. The best thing about him was…he knew what to do with it.

The last guy I met who was packing like that was the most boring dude I’ve ever been with in bed. He had absolutely no skills and I was so upset with him for wasting my time.

It’s crazy but…when I was doing it with him, it wasn’t about his skin, my past or anything other than he and I trying our best to please each other. He does all the things I like (with precision) and for the first time in a long time, I experienced the fullness of having my body be appreciated.

He kissed me often, which I don’t find that most men do. They’re so caught up in bustin one that they forget to do things like kiss you on the lips while they’re hitting it from behind or rub your body and tell you how sexy you are. I remember him saying, “You look so good…Look at that..” It gave me chills.

And oh yes…I got mine. Three times.

Please don’t throw away my Black card but when I was with him, I felt sexier than Beyonce. I felt like my body was being adored by him. I did a few extra tricks just to show off and honey, he deserved it. He gave me so much in return.

I had a great time with him and I wish that we could do it again..It’s not about his skin, it’s about HIM being HIM and giving me what I’ve been needing for quite a while.

But you know me. I’m the same Ms. Tee. Issues maybe?

Being intimate with any man is like sitting at the top of a slide and pushing off…there’s nowhere to go but down…

Taylor and I have not spoken to or seen each other since then. I won’t call. He hasn’t called. I’ll call it a stand-off.

I missed him for a minute, remembering that I kinda liked getting to know him and hearing about his hippie adventures. Man..secks sure does ruin things. I had hoped that he and I could be friends but I can’t seem to be friends with a man that I’m attracted to especially when I find out that he’s attracted to me…

I got a long lecture from Tamara about it on my birthday.

“Tee! You can’t keep doing this! I know you liked him. I’m tired of seeing you hurting like this. You have to give men a chance to know who you are before you sleep with them and you have to know them. You have to stop this or you’re always gonna keep getting the same thing.”

She’s right.

I’m doing this to myself.

Or am I?

Is it possible that I could meet a man who loves expressing himself sexually like I do and would appreciate that part of who I am along with loving all of my other traits?

Do I really have to change and be on some 3 month rule?

I don’t know..but I’m kinda tired of fast beginnings and even faster endings… I’d really like to see what else happens after the first week. LOL!

I’m laughing but…not really…

What a Birthday!

I woke up from a crazy ass dream and my eyes were drawn to the sun peeking in through the blinds. For a minute I didn’t know where I was but then I remembered, oh I’m at the dorms. My next question had a hint of hope in it, “Maybe I slept through my birthday and I missed it.”

A quick glance at the phone and I realized that I hadn’t. It was close to 7am. I sat up in bed and prayed for my day. “God please let things be okay. Guide me today. Be with me today.”

I got up and pulled on a pair of shorts and then I walked over to breakfast, praying and talking to God the whole time. When I got back to my room after eating some cereal and a bowl of fruit, I took a shower and began my dressing process.

I chose a simple white summer dress for my birthday. Silver accessories and silver sandals, eye liner, foundation and a little blush. I brushed out my hair and smiled at my reflection.

“Ok. I can do this. I can handle this. Whatever this is going to be.”

I plaed Luke’s song, It’s Your Birthday and I danced to it, shaking my ass, trying to get excited about turning 29.

I hopped into my car and drove to the metrorail station. After parking I hustld up to the platform and sat down, shaking my head and trying to think positive thoughts.

When I got downtown I found the building easily. I tookt he elevator to the second floor and signed in.

“I’m here for my child support hearing,” I told the man at the metal detector.

“You’re an hour early, they’re not ready yet,” he said. “You can come back later and we’ll let you right in.”

I walked over to a nearby plaza and sat down on a chair with my bag on my lap. The sun was bright, the air was nice, but my heart was hurting. “I can’t believe this man is suing me for child support,” I murmured. “He doesn’t need it. But damn…he wants it anyway.”

Since I was feeling so down, I had turned off my phone. I didn’t want to deal with all of the Happy Birthday calls and text messages from my friends. I couldn’t even bring myself to have to answer, “What are you doing for your birthday?”

Umm..I’m going to court to be sued by my BBDD. Didn’t want to have to explain that.

I called my little sister and she made me laugh by telling jokes and telling stories about how her fiance keeps treating her so well. That always uplifts me.

“Ok girl, lemme go. It’s time.”

I walked back over to the building, signed in again and sat down in the lobby with the other people waiting for their case to be heard. A few minutes later, my BBDD walks in with his suit on, checks in and smiles at me.

“Hi, Ms. Patterson,” he says and sits down next to me.

I didn’t respond. It was whatever.

When they said it was time, we all had to go through the metal detectors and fill out forms. Then they called us, couple by couple to be interviewed.

As he and I sat next to each other, I didn’t say much.

“How much income do you have?”the woman asked me.

“I have a blogging job that brings in $75 a month. That’s my only consistent income.”

We filled out our forms and they did the computer calculations. With his income of $5731.78 a month and my income of $75, they raised my income to imputed which means that I should be making a minimum wage so they calculated it to minimum wage which is $1,017.10 a month.

The lady showed us the paperwork and asked him if he wanted back child support, which he said he did. She calculated that I owed him $7,774.12 for the time he has had the children. Then she said that I would have to pay $357.28 a month plus whatever amount the judge sets for arrears.

My heart ached. But I cringed when I heard him ask, “Is there any way that we can do an investigation to be able to find out if that’s really all she’s making?”

The lady looked at him with a tight lip. “You can ask the judge that.”

We went back inside the waiting room and they called us all in the court room. The judge walked in, we had to stand and sit down again. We watched as other cases were heard. The judge was a Black man who was probably in his late 40’s, he was personable and kinda jovial.

The first case that we heard, the woman was suing her ex for child support, but when sat down, she was getting the case dismissed. He still had to pay her the arrears, which the judge set at $50 a month and the judge told him to hurry and get a job before the first payment hits.

“Don’t worry,” his ex said and looked at him and then the judge. “He’s trying so when I get paid I’m going to give him the money so he can make the payments until he gets back on his feet.”

I was shocked. I should have had my babies from her!

We listened to a few more cases before they called our names. I sat in the seat that I had seen all the women sit in but they made me switch seats when they learned that he was the one suing me.

The judge asked him where he worked and he told them XYZ law firm. The judge asked him what he did there and he replied, “I’m an associate attorney.”

I could hear the people in the room gasp.

Then the judge asked me what I did. I told him that I am a blogger and a student.

“Which school?”

I told him.

“What are you studying?”

“”I’m getting my masters in Marriage/Family/Therapy.”

“Ohh,” the judge smiled. “A masters?”

My BBDD laughed.

“I make straight A’s” I said proudly. “I’m a writer. I write for the Herald.”

“Oh really?” the judge asked. “Where can I read some of your work?”

“It’s in the paper sporadically, but you can google me and read my portfolio.”

“Where did you go for undergrad,” he asked.

“I went to the University of Florida.”

The judge smiled. “Why did the children change hands?”

I sighed and released my emotions. I told the story of how I took care of my sons, was on foodstamps, section 8, welfare and every other program you could name while he graduated from law school and went on to enjoy his career. I could never get the case modified because everytime I would, I’d get some paperwork about him contesting paternity or filing for custody so the case was stalled many times for many years.

I was a secretary for so many different companies and then I wanted to step out and do what I do, which is be a journalist, so I took a risk and changed jobs and then I lost my job. After months of handling my bills with no income and abosultely no help from HIM, he offered to take them for me while I looked for a job. He never once told the courts that he was now an attorney and making more money. He never once complied and made it easier for my household.

I sighed when I was done and the judge kinda smirked. Everything that I said had nothing to do with the day’s case, but at least I let it be known, on record and in court…and in front of him.

When the judge finished questioning me about my work history and laughing as I told him about hopping from job to job and city to city, I could feel the women in the room staring at my BBDD and giving him the ‘you nasty motherfucker’ look.

He set my payment to just around $500 a month and I asked him when my first payment was due and he said, July 6th.

I almost fell out. I don’t have any money for that. I don’t know how I could get it. What am I supposed to do about spending time with my sons and taking them out to eat if I have to give him all of that money every month? I can barely afford to feed them when we spend time together now, which limits the amount of time I can spend with them.

My BBDD raised his voice, “Um, we’re about to leave with this financial information,” he said to the judge. “And she has a blog. I just want to make sure she knows she can’t mention this information on her blog.”

The judge replied quickly, “This information is public record. Anyone can look it up and see it.” he’s so worried about looking like an ass on the internet? Well, I wasn’t going to but I guess I can include his name then…

Everyone you can say hi to Salisu A. Richardson, Esq. Better known as “Sal”. He’s my BBDD. Mr. Empowerment, Mr. Forward Movement himself.

“What am I supposed to do?” I asked, tears already running down my cheeks.

“You have a month to come up with the money,” the judge said.

My BBDD walked out first and I saw him look at me. I was so embarrassed to let him see me cry but I couldn’t help it. Two women from the court followed me outside and rubbed my back, telling me that it was gonna be alright and that I was gonna make it through this.

“He’s nasty! He has no business doing this, he’s a MAN and he has more than enough money to take care of them without your help,” they commented, referring to my BBDD. “But God’s got a plan for you. God wants to get the glory in this. All you have to do is trust that you are gonna make it through this. And pay what you can, something is better than nothing.”

They blessed me and I dried my tears and walked out of the courthouse.

It started raining as soon as I stepped outside and I opened my umbrella and walked back to the train station, not believing what had just happened.

I rode back up north and went back to my car. At first I was gonna go back to my room and cry but I decided to stick to my plan and treat myself to a bucket of garlic crabs for my birthday. I drove over to the crab place on 79th street and bought a small bucket. Then I went back to my room and cried again as I undressed and changed clothes. I sat on my bed and opened my bucket.

Happy Birthday to me.

I tasted the first crab and my shoulders fell.

Fuck..these crabs are nasty. I ate the whole thing anyway, upset the entire time that my treat wasn’t really a treat at all. I then went to the cafeteria and had dinner. I could barely eat, my entire body felt so heavy.

I turned on my phone and just as I did, my boys called me to see how my birthday went. I told them it was fine.

“Mama,” my almost 6 year old said, “When you come see us for my birthday, can we buy you a cake for your birthday too?”

I love him. He’s so good to me.

“Aww baby, that’s so sweet of you, but we’ll have to see about that. As long as you have your cake, I’ll be happy. We’re gonna get one for you. We’re gonna have a slumber party and stay with your uncle Erick and sleep on the floor! It’s gonna be great!”

I was trying to make the arrangements sound as exciting as possible and guess what– it worked.

“What’s a slumber party?” my son asked.

“It’s when we all sleep on the floor and stay up late, eat popcorn, have pillow fights and watch movies and dance and have fun!”

“Oohh!” he said. “I like that.”

I hung up with them and went back to my room. I logged in to the internet but I could barely move to type anything. My body felt so drained. So drained.

I looked at the clock. 7pm. Oh damn.. I lay there hoping to go to sleep so that this day would be over. Sleep didn’t come.

So I just layed there. And I felt the heaviness pressing down on my chest. And I pictured him laughing at me. And I pictured him clapping and celebrating with his fiance. And I wondered what kid of friends he has that would encourage him to do this when he KNOWS I’m trying to do my best and make a life for myself and my sons.

Why is he so intent on stopping my progress? WHy is he so against me?

And then the answer came. His voice in my ear whispering, “I told you not to have those kids.”

I finally fell asleep around 1am I guess. I woke up this morning with a heaviness on my heart but my intuition said, “Go downtown.”

There I met a woman who smiled at me and said, “Don’t worry, you’ve met me now. We’re gonna work on this together. We’ll see what we can do.”

Back Home

There’s nothing quite like the feeling of coming home after a trip.

A part of you misses the fun you had and another part of you..really misses being by yourself.

I am the most comfortable when I am alone with my sons or..

….just alone.

I could really deal with everyone else via email or phone and be fine. I feel so relaxed now that I’m home. I don’t know what to think but…I just need to accept that I’m not a socialite or even sociable. And that should be alright…

All I gotta say is…This weekend was such a treat for me… I gained a whole new perspective on my life.

Details soon.

Not Pleasing An Audience


I’m back here again. it doesn’t feel good. While I was with my boys I felt like I…like I meant something to somebody. I felt connected, cherished, important, valued, needed, loved.

I don’t feel like that here. I’m in full recovery mode, only coming out of my room to eat, phone is off so today I won’t be anyone’s entertainment.

It’s funny how I want to help people to heal in the same areas that I’m having issues in- relationships- but I don’t really connect with people myself.

I had a long nightmare last night. in the nightmare I was being chased by men, they were trying to rape me because they hated me. i managed to hide pretty well until I was surrounded by them. Then I rememebered that I was dreaming so I raised my hands to the sky like Superman and I said, “I’m gonna fly…”

But I didn’t.

I didn’t move at all. It didn’t work.

So I woke up.

I don’t know how to turn the entertainer/motivator in me off..and honestly, I want to be valued for more than that someday. When I’m with my sons, I feel like I can really be me.

Any other time, I feel like I’m acting, trying to please an audience.

I want to relax sometime…but there’s no time for that, I guess.

A New Perspective

I had a rough day today…

It was one of those days where I could have ended up in tears, hiding under the covers and hating myself but…

I chose not to.

I took out my camera and clicked through the pictures from this weekend. I love my sons. I know that’s a given but they really…feed me..feel me…know me.

I never feel that feeling when I’m with anyone else. It’s not some power trip because they have to listen to me, it’s a connection- like, they KNOW me. They love me.

I think I’m about to cry as I write this…but, I thoroughly enjoyed my trip to Gainesville this weekend. Once I got on the road, I popped in my Bone Thugs N Harmony CD and I floated up the turnpike.

Driving like that gave me so much time to think and breathe and release my emotions surrounding my circumstances. The feel of the wind on my face was arousing. The thought of spending time with my sons gave me chills.

We did everything that I wanted for us to do. We were blessed beyond measure. We hung out on UF’s campus and took a tour of the city. We went to every apartment that I lived in while I was there and I told them stories of things we used to do when we were together. I showed them the hospital where they were born and took them to the park where we used to play. I even got to take them to breakfast at Shoney’s, we used to have breakfast there on Sundays.

They don’t remember much, and that saddens me. To think that after staying up nights with screaming infants, potty training and teaching them how to eat, walk and dress themselves, all of that is forgotten.

I met up with my friend Kenya in Gainesville and she introduced me to her Dad as my boys and I hung out on campus.

I was watching Kenya and her Dad interact, they are so much alike it’s crazy. I remember them not always having the best relationship and she said it all changed when she let go of wanting him to treat her in a certain way. She just looked at him..and accepted him for who he is and now they are pals.


I watched with a certain degree of envy as she talked to him on the phone, “Hey Daddy! Come get me.”



That amazes me. I don’t have anyone to call Daddy. That word is so special to me.

After the boys were asleep Kenya and I hung out by the pool of the motel I was staying in. We talked forever about everything but there was one statement that really stood out.

She mentioned that she had told her Dad about my recent child support hearing. He looked at her and said, “She can do it.”

Wow. Everytime I have to tell that story I get the same response. “That’s messed up.” “He’s crazy.” “He’s going to get his.” “There’s no way you can do that.”

His one statement weighed more than all of those other opinions.

I can do it.

I can do this.

Somehow, God saw it fit to allow me to face this situation and there obviously has to be some kind of way that I can handle it. I have not figured out what that is yet..but I believe that everything that I need is always on my pathway. It always is. It may not be an option that I would have chosen for myself, but that’s how life is sometimes.

I have to be willing to do something that I have never done before.

I don’t know what that is yet but…

I will figure it out.

I can do it.

Happy And Nappy And Free!

Guess who I got to see today?


That’s right! MIMI!

My homegirl is in town and she invited me over to visit. We took a drive to the local Walgreens and we stood in the aisles for I don’t know how long as I explained to her why I think it’s important for me to try my hand at becoming a stripper.

She looked at me like I was crazy.

“Dawg, I’m so tired of being ashamed of my body. If I could just build up the confidence to strut around naked and work the pole I know that it would break down a barrier for me. I want to encourage women to love their love handles, stretch marks and booty dimples, if they have them. I think I’m gonna start a movement!”

“Umm..What you’re trying to teach is immoral?”

“According to who?”

“According to the Bible.”


We went back and forth as I explained to her how I feel about religion, that’s there no one set path and even if someone decides to engage in a religion it should be because that way works for them, not because someone told them that they are going to hell if they don’t believe in that certain way.

“Hmm…Now I can understand why you said you didn’t want to marry a Christian man. I thought my ex husband made you mad and you blamed all Christians for it, but it’s really because you know your beliefs will clash. But be careful what you put out there, your career may never recover from it if you decide you change your mind later.”

After our power chat session at Walgreens we went back to her house and she shared some of her Haitian food with me. She made a dish of fried fish, white rice and this bean soup. It was absolutely delicious! I could have stayed the whole day just sitting and chatting with her but I had to go back to campus to finish my presentation.

Before I left Mimi gave me the biggest, tightest hug that I’ve had in a long time. I almost cried right there in her arms and her baby gave me a kiss on the cheek, I almost melted with love.

I zoomed back to campus and chatted with Kim a little bit before settling down to do my presentation. Our group decided to do a presentation on the life transition: Graduation.

My part was to come up with a short presentation on what Graduation means to me. I didn’t want to do some regular junk so I took out my Graduation CD by my baby Kanye West and I did a whole power point presentation on how Kanye views education and how his view affected his relationship with his Mom. I then chose a few songs from the album and copied a couple of verses from each to show as examples of Kanye’s attitude and inspiration.

I finished with just 30 minutes to go before class. My group called me up and I rushed out to meet them. How about when I got there, they handed me a piece of paper and said, “Just read this.”

Whuh? “Oh, we changed the presentation and you don’t have to present your part anymore.”


Ughh..I hate group projects!

Fuck! All that work I did! Damn!

Anyway…We went to dinner together on campus and had all kinds of laughs about our teacher. She’s crazy! This man missed two classes and she handed him his withdrawal slip…at the end of class like…Bye.

My classmate was like, “Hell naw…I PAY for this class I can miss as many as I want to!”

But dang ya’ll! I feel so good right now!

I think it’s because..well..take a look for yourself!

Yep! I did it! I snatched my weave out this weekend!


No more weave for Ms. Tee!

I’m finally starting my locking process with my hair. Actually, my twists didn’t stay in for long because I just used mousse as I twisted them but I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE my natural hair!

Oh my gosh!

I feel so free!
I feel so nappy and happy and authentic and beautiful! I look like a Queen to me!

I can’t stop looking in the mirror and touching my coarse hair and pulling on the twists and just staring at my reflection!

I love it!

I ain’t nevah going back to that weaved out look again!


It feels so good to be free to be ME!