Author: TPatterson

Push It To the Limit

I got a call tonight from Dell’s client regarding my proposal to do freelance marketing work for his company.

“Hello,” he said. “We loved your proposal for Phase I. I just want you to know that you’re hired. We’re very pleased with what you put together.”

YAY!

I’m officially an Atlanta hustler!

Now sing along!

Rick Ross:

I push and I push (push)
I ride and I ride (ride)
tryna survive on 285
(push it to the limit)

~snapping fingers~

Don’t stop get it, get it!
Shake that thang!
Pop that thang!
Go head!
Go head!
Go head!

In Search Of a Winter Friend

I think I may be becoming familiar with the expressways here. I only get lost once or twice a week now. This job has got me running all over the city and I must admit, it’s a great way to get to know the place but i feel as though someone just pushed me off the pier and said, “SWIM!”

I had to meet up with a singer named Omar to get a few photos at this club called Sugar Hill on Friday night. When I got there my name was on the list so the door person waved me inside with no problem. “Excuse me..” he said as I walked away. “It says here that you were bringing a guest. Is your guest on the way?”

“No. I’m all alone tonight,” I told him. “I couldn’t find anyone who wanted to tag along.

I hung out for a while until Omar’s publicist called me and asked me to meet her at the backstage door. The “door” was actually a black curtain with two huge bodyguards standing in front of it. The publicist came out and introduced me to the bodyguard asking him to give me all access and we walked through the curtain through a hallway and into a dimly lit room.

There were about 10 or so people in the room, all sipping on wine, sitting on the beautiful couches and mingling with the band who were taking turns getting massages from a professional masseuse. There was a table set up in the corner with lots of water and soft drinks and snacks and flowers. There was also a television crew there setting up for an interview. The publicist was very nice. She reached into her bag and gave me one of Omar’s CD’s before she introduced me to him and I began to take pictures of him as he joked with me.

I didn’t stay for the show because I was tired after thinking hard all day and I found myself driving in circles trying to find my way back to I20. I called Kim and cried into the phone and she talked to me until I finally found my way and reached home.

Ofcourse I had to work again the next day- work meaning an interview with a group called the Sierra Leone Refugee All-Stars on Saturday afternoon. The interview went well; we met up at their hotel and discussed how they began making music in a mud hut in Africa and ended up touring the US following a critically acclaimed documentary about their struggle.

After the interview I went home and chilled out in anticipation of meeting up with Suezette and Ron at Houlihan’s downtown for a quick dinner before we headed out to check out the clubs in search of a place to have Suezette’s 25th birthday party.

By the time I got to Zette’s place it was a little after 8:30 so I parked my car and we drove over to the restaurant and ate lovely, laughed and shared about our recent men woes and our hopes for the future.

Ron joined us soon after and after a little fumbling we got on the road and went to this club called Verve. It was very nice. The atmosphere was inviting and everyone there were just trying to have a good time. No drama.

You all know I’m antisocial and the idea of befriending women doesn’t appeal to me because I take friendships to heart and I know that some women don’t have the same ideals that I have but these two chicks..yeah…I’m feeling them. They’re different from me because they are very sociable and they treat everyone as though they are stars. I have to develop that side of my personality in order to succeed so I expect that some of their sweetness will rub off on me. It’s crazy because you can feel an instant connection when you are around them and there’s no effort to become friends like you sometimes feel during the getting to know you stage of a friendship.

Ruby introduced them to me, so they get cool points for that, but they were genuine, you know. And they reminded me of me and my other friends because they take care of each other and it’s important to me to be around women who aren’t selfish and are giving. As far as my friends are concerned, if I have $100 in the bank and you need it, it’s yours. Even if it’s for something as simple as a hairdo. If it’s important to you it’s important to me. Even if you don’t necessarily need something, I still love to do nice things for my friends because I feel like I’m blessed to be able to do nice things for others.

We vibed well into the night, shaking our booties and sipping on mixed drinks. I danced with a few guys during the evening which kind of embarrassed me because I can’t really dance so I spent most of the time trying to keep up with them. They were nice though and I wondered if they had the potential to be my “winter friend”.

Come on, you know it’s getting cold and the idea of laying up in the house by myself all winter is not appealing. After celebrating last week with Tamara because she found out that she is having a boy- YAY!- I told her that if I don’t find a winter friend, she and AJ had better make room for me in their bed because I’m coming to sleep with them. To which she responded, “Uh..I’ll be putting a personal ad in the AJC for you as soon as possible.”

Well, you can’t meet men if you are antisocial and a proud member of the “Men ain’t shit” club so I have to be open although everytime I meet a man I can’t help but compare him to Dell. And so far none have even come close to his drive, his demeanor or his spirit. Damn that chick Ruby for introducing me to such a great guy! Now I can’t get him out of my head and he’s so not thinking about me. Oh well.. I have to give other guys a chance though I will confess, when I’m hanging out with any other man, I feel like I’m cheating on Dell.

~shrugs~

Yeah. Call me stupid, a sucka for love or whatever but..I admire Dell and I respect him and that says a lot considering that I am turned off by most of the men I meet.

How do I decide if I want to give a man my number? Well, let me share my thought process. There were two men who were consistently courting me last night. One was an African man who kept lifting up his shirt, showing off his abs and he was a great dancer which means he probably has a nice stroke in the bedroom.

The other guy didn’t dance at all, but he had that different look, his belt had a skull on it and his shoes were unlike anything I had ever seen. He was very well put together.

While I danced with one guy I could see that the other was standing by watching and I didn’t care. The Skull belt guy, whose name is Jay pulled me off to the side a couple of times to talk to me and he told me that he was a producer (smirk) from New York and that he was a 23 years old. Aww….a tenderoni! He got cool points for being in the creative industry and for giving me ONE compliment and not going on and on like an idiot.

The African guy was quiet mostly. I could tell that he doesn’t get much play despite his stellar body because when I was with the other guy, he and his friend eyed me like jealous boyfriends ready to pounce. “I’m taking a break,” the African guy said. “When I get back I want your name and your number.”

LOL! I laughed at him.

Jay’s approach was a little more subtle. “Let’s check out the rooftop,” he suggested and led me up the staircase to the 3rd level of the club and out onto the open deck.

“It’s cold out here,” I said. “I should have brought my sweater.”

“You don’t need that with me here,” he said and stood behind me rubbing my arms. “Um…Can I get that number?”

“Sure,” I said as he reached for his Treo and handed it to me.

As soon as I got back down to the 2nd level where Zette and Ron were, they were both ready to go which was great because you should never be at the spot for too long and definitely not close the place down. That’s not cool. A quick cameo is most appropriate.

As we were leaving, the African guy and his friend gave me evil looks as I walked by them and waved a cute wave and smiled. You know my rule: NO AFRICAN MEN. They are way too controlling for me.

Blah– I gotta go. I have three stories to write before I go to bed and I’ve been procrastinating all day. Lemme get on it…

Fears In The City

You won’t understand that this feeling I have gotten is overwhelming me. I don’t know what to do. I fear them. To hear their deep voices in my ears makes me cringe. The thought of one of them flirting with me, stirs my heartrate. I tremble at the thought of one of them trying to talk to me. When I go out I don’t smile or look at anyone because I really don’t want any guys to talk to me. Sometimes I feel like this fear is running my life.

I try to be sociable but I’m afraid. I’m so afraid.

I’m afraid of pouring out my heart and giving the essence of me and people not appreciating or seeing it at as annoying or whatever. I’ve experienced that so much. I don’t want to experience that one more time.
So I run. RUN! RUN! When I see them. They still try to talk to me.

SOmetimes when I go out, outside of work, I don’t wear any makeup, clothes dont match and im like whatever. They still bother me. I feel like it’s punishment for me never dealing with the issue.

It’s scaring me that so many men are attracted to me at one time. I haven’t felt like this since I was 19. I’m not used to all of this chivalry and shit. I don’t know who to trust because they all seem so nice to me.

So when I pick one to hang with I’m careful, when I go visit my girls have his name adress and phone number. And when I get there I’m shaking, literally. We’re supposed to be relaxing but it’s very difficult to do when you can’t even think straight because you are so nervous. You’re wondering what is he gonna do to me? How is he gonna hurt me? You know they are attracted to you for your looks and not your heart. Sometimes you just want them to know you before they wanna touch you.

But then sometimes it’s hard because..shit…you want some too. And then you sit and weigh in the pros and cons of if you should actually do it. I mean, you don’t really like him, but he’s aiight. I don’t know man. He’s a damn MAN- capabale of anything, even going slap crazy after you did it.

But in the end you don’t do anything because you find some reason to leave and then you never talk to the guy again. If he calls, you don’t answer. If you see him, you act like he’s invisible. I guess your heart is so caught up in the when that you can’t appreciate the now.

It’s like you are steadily expecting a hard blow from up high. You live in fear of people hurting you.

I don’t know how many times that I have cried when a man has initially touched me? I tremble under his fingertips. But you’re a pretty good actress, you hope. You don’t want everyone to know.

Happens everytime. Over and over again. My body is tense from worrying over it because ultimately i have a lot of love to give and I want to give it to someone who can appreciate a good woman who is on her way to being a superstar journalist. Sometimes I look at these guys and think, “You’re so dumb. Do you see who you’re acting up with? Do you know what my destiny is? Oh I forgot, I met you at the damn mall and you have no idea who I really am?”

That’s why I hate meeting guys on the street or in the mall or whatever. Unless they can see me in action, doing what I love to do most which is writing or speaking or being innovative then they won’t understand what I am going to be or value the eccentric woman that I am now.

They don’t care. They just see a little short woman with a nice face and a nice package. Well lemme tell ya, it’s a mirage. I wear makeup everyday and my package ain’t as slim as these jeans would have you to believe because um…It’s not pretty.

The reality is I’m half crazy with the desire to accomplish my dreams. It’s all I talk about it’s all I breathe. I dont kno wif a lot of people would want to be around someone who is always talking about setting goals and going after your wildest success.It can be quite daunting when you are with someone who just wants to relax and you want to talk about new trends in the media industry and how you got this great idea.

I’m sorry ya’ll. If you don’t believe me I think this is my frst time blogging while drunk. I never thought I could do it. I’m not really drunk but I’m tipsy from a couple of glasses of wine with a friend who is probably never gonna see my face again because he started flirting with me tonight. Things were going really cool at first then he changed his tone and started this whole act, it was so childish.I hate when men flirt with me. Come better than that. Ofcourse begin with a compliment to get my attention but after that no sexual references or innuendo. I mean, not unless you know how to do it right. Make me blush don’t make me cringe in embarrassment.

Id rather be straight up and communiate the truth. Hey, I’m feeling you. I’m feeling you too. Let’s see what’s up. No fears. No holds barred. We can be free to enjoy each other’s company as often as we wish or as little as we like with no expectations that the other person is taking you for granted or trying to hurt you. Just enjoying each other and enjoying giving to each other,focusing on supporting each other’s happiness.

Whatever. ~fold arms~ With men? I don’t know if it will happen.

But anyway I came in here to finish my stories and I realize It’s not gonna happen. Damn. I am going to be so busy tomorrow.

Oh well…when are we not busy.

I just hope that this week runs more smoothly than the last and that I get over these fears before they destroy my destiny. I love people. I sincerely want to see their lives changed. Why am I always afraid that they are going to hurt me? I think I worry even more about whether they would accept me with all of my little crazy quirks. Maybe I’m afraid of being so naiive that I don’t recognize the big bad wolf because I’m trying to be so nice.

Um…I don’t know. I hope I didnt say too much.

I’ll read it tomorrow and see cuz I’m tired. I’m tired and tomorow is another day that I have to face my fears and go deal with these men at work and in the city.

I’m workin on it.

Mr. Skull & Bones

So the day after Mr. Skull & Bones asked for my number he proceeded to text me quite often. I got a text from him a few hours after we all left the club asking me if I made it home safely. When I woke up I got another text from him asking me if I was having a good morning. I then got another text from him asking when he could see me again.

Why don’t you call me and ask. I wrote back.

My phone rings and I smile and answer in my most womanly voice, “Heyyyy…”

“Hi.” I hear a little girl’s voice respond.

Huh?

“Who is this?”

“This is Jay. From last night.”

DAMN! Dude sounds like a little girl on the phone!

“Um..So what’s up?”

“I’d like to see you again,” he says and I begin to feel a little creepy because it’s a 12 yr old girl’s voice I’m hearing.

“Um…What do you have in mind?”

“I don’t know. Whatever.”

“Well, what do you like to do?” I ask hoping that we’d have something in common. “Do you like to go to the movies? Do you like to go for cocktails? Do you smoke or drink or play pool?”

“Well. I tried smoking and I didn’t like it. It’s not me. I tried the drinking thing but I felt like I was just doing it to fit in so I don’t do it anymore. What I really like to do is shop.”

Huh?

“You like to shop?”

“Yeah. I will shop til I drop!” he squealed and then giggled into the phone.

What the fu***?

“Um,” I ask him nervously. “Where do you like to shop?”

“NEIMAN’S ofcourse!” he replied and sighed. “In the Lennox Mall, it’s the best place and I go craaazy when I go there!”

Damn…This dude seems kinda strange. Hollup…

“Where do you live?” I ask him.

“Marietta.”

“Who do you live with?”

“My cousin. The guy you saw me at the club with.”

“Oh, you two were kinda dressed alike right?”

“Yeah, that’s him. Hot shoes huh?”

Lemme see something. “Hey…I’ve been really upset because it’s cold and I can’t find jeans that fit right. Could you suggest a place for me to get some good jeans?”

“Oh yeah! NEIMAN’S ofcourse! And then you can try little five points. There’s this little boutique there called…Hollup..” he pauses and asks his “roommate” for the name of the boutique and relays the info to me. “There are a lot of kinds but you should keep trying until you find the brand that fits right on you. For a good pair of jeans like Sevens or something like that you’re gonna spend about $170 but it’s so worth it.”

Dammnnnn….Something about this ain’t right.

“Do you drive?” he asks me.

Huh?

“Yeah. Ofcourse. How else am I going to get to work?”

“Oh, I was just asking because I don’t have a car out here but I have one in New York while I decide if I’m going to make this my permanent home.”

~raises eyebrow~

“So….How were you planning to take me out?”

“Oh, I could get a ride over there anytime. My cousin would drop me. I’d love to come over and cuddle with you.”

He wanna cuddle?

Dammnnn…I don’t know about this dude.

“Hey lemme call you back,” I tell him and hang up the phone.

I scratch my head…

He’s a music producer. ~smirk~ Cool points for that.

He likes to shop til he drops.

He lives with his cousin (?) and they dress alike.

He doesn’t have a car but he says he’ll get a ride to take me out. Um…Are we in highschool?

That’s pretty much a wrap. I guess unless I need a shopping partner.

Cover Your Nose

I left work in a hurry today, my knees pressed tightly together all the while hoping no one stopped me to talk on my way out the door.

See, I couldn’t stand to be there another minute and be embarrassed like that cuz the truth is…

I’m that chick.

I’m that chick who smells funky in the afternoon.

I’m that chick who smells like hot cootchie.

I don’t want to smell like that. I take the proper precautions. I shower daily and I use summer’s eve wash AND anti bacterial soap. I also use panty liners and FDS (feminine deodorant spray). Sometimes I still catch a whiff of myself and my face goes red.

Thank God it’s improved. I used to get that hot, sticky feeling in between my legs around 10am. yes, I said 10 am. I don’t know why I’m so sweaty down there. I never sweat anywhere else. I’m always so embarrassed cuz I know that people can smell me too.

Yeah…I have to find another solution to this problem. I feel defective. Lemme go take a bath.

Well…at least the pu**y still good.

Lord, help me.

Got Me Workin..Workin Day & Night

What have I been up to?

Working….

10-12 hour days and attending all kinds of events and you KNOW I’m antisocial so it’s been rough having to meet all of these people and smile and shake hands and all that.

Last week I went to the Morehouse Homecoming concert which featured Nas & Kelis. It was crazy! Our staff didn’t meet any of our goals (one being a one on one interview with Nas) because the publicists weren’t responding to our requests and the security kept the press on lockdown. We couldn’t even leave the media pit to go to the bathroom!

But I got a few good shots of Nas & Kelis, including one of him with his hands on her butt.

This weekend I got all dressed up (you know I ain’t want to), to attend Jermain Dupri’s Halloween Party. The invitation was so funny, it read: Due to limited space at the site of the party, all invited guests are asked to meet at the Suntrust Bank and will take a shuttle to the exclusive party location.

The party was blah. The food was good. If there were celebrities there I didn’t recognize any of them. Well…except for Da Brat. I was walking up to the bar to get me another free DRANK, and I saw this chick. I squinted my eyes and looked at her. “You look familiar,” I said to her. She just smiled at me as I walked away.

Guess what costume I wore?

Yes, your girl was a red devil.

I got all kinds of comments like, “If you’re the devil, then I’m a sinner. Take me to hell with you!”

I was ready to go after an hour but I was driving and I was trying to be courteous to my co workers so I waited a little longer.

Ya’ll ain’t ready for my work update. Seems like all Black business leaders must go to the same school of ‘beat your employees down to keep them around’ because I’ve learned that my publisher’s brand of motivation resembles the same type of motivation my baby daddy used to give me. The same type my stepfather used to give me and the same type my old pastor used to give me. He has the same leadership style as my old publisher from the newspaper in Miami. ~shakes head~ Nothing but criticism and consistent expression of dissappointment with your progress.

This time I recognized it early so I’m trying to decide what I’m going to do. Can I really withstand an environment like that again? I’m a sensitive person and there’s only so much, ‘you aren’t good enough’ I can take before I snap.

Pray for me ya’ll because it seems like my editor has it in for me too. I guess I could be paranoid but when I am constantly being told that I’m not doing this right or that right even when I consistently ask for feedback and instruction so I can get it right, it’s disheartening to know that all of your best effort is being shit on.

Oh well…I have to stay focused and I know that this is not the end of my journey. Their motivational/abusive tactics won’t deter me from becoming the professional journalist that I want to be.

I have to tell myself that I’m working my ass off and if they don’t appreciate it, another company will. It’s not the end of the road for me.

Behind The Magazine

I love, love, LOVE my job!

~shivers~

It turns me on so much!

Let me tell you how a typical workday goes for me.

I arrive at work an hour before the staff writers do so I can get my head together and go through my daily reports. The daily reports consist of a list of stories that each writer has completed and has dropped in the editorial production folder for me to review and move to copy editing.

I copy each of their daily reports and make a comprehensive daily report to send to my publisher, my editor and the CEO. This allows them to gauge the staff progress and keep an eye on the stories that we are about to run.

After I send out that report I review their individual lists of incompleted stories and I mark which stories I want them to work on for the day making sure that the stories I assign are consistent with the holes I have in my upcoming editorial calendars. The editorial calendar is a spreadsheet that I have to make that lists all of the stories that will run in each issue and since our magazine is national with local content for the major markets, I have to make sure that the local stories are placed in the right cities. It’s a little complicated but I love the details so it’s exciting to me.

After I meet with each of the writers and give them their assignments, I add their assignments to a running spreadsheet that I keep for future reference in case someone asks if a particular story has been run and who wrote it.

Once I’m through with all that, I scour the editorial production folder on my computer and review the stories and choose which ones I want to place on the calendar. I then move the story to the copy editing folder so the first copy editor can edit it and send to the 2nd copy editor who edits it again and they place it in another folder for the graphics department to grab and place in the layout. After the graphics people do that, it goes to copy editing again for a final read through.

I can spend hours filling the calendar and passing along my spreadsheet to the graphics team so that they can add pictures. Once I’m done with the calendar, I have to work with copy editing and graphics to make sure that all of the stories are in with the corresponding photos. This process lasts for a couple of days because sometimes pictures are missing and we have to create new ones or the copy editor rejects the story and we have to request a rewrite.

So all day long I’m marching up and down the corridor, checking up on writers and graphics to see if they need anything from me. In between all of that I’m fielding calls from publicists who want their artist or business covered. I listen to their pitch and decide if it’s something we are interested in writing about. If it is, I will assign the story to the writer who I feel will best connect with the topic (or who is available to do the interview).

Ahhhhhhhh…..

It’s beautiful because if the publisher and editor leaves me alone, I can ride my management high all day as I watch as magazine after magazine is put together from start to finish. It’s a beautiful sight! On Thursdays, the new magazine (which we call a ‘book’) comes out and everyone reviews the magazine looking for mistakes and to read each other’s stories and offer words of appreciation.

Man…Most people go to college and have to figure out what they want to be, changing majors at least once during their process. When I got to college, I looked at my choices within the journalism major and I didn’t hesitate to elect magazine journalism as my concentration. I’m so glad I did. I love what I do everyday. I smile when I walk through the front doors.

Although my publisher frustrates me and I believe it is my own paranoia that makes me defensive when he instructs me because I believe all men are out to tear me down, I really listen to everything he has to say and I breathe it in and try to implement it into my daily thought process. I’m learning so much from him and though my feelings get hurt in the process because he always has a word of instruction/correction, I know it’s for my own good and I will become a better content manager which will eventually make me a better managing editor one day.

Whoo!

Lord, I know I chose the perfect career… Give me strength to endure the criticism as I focus on my goal of becoming an editor within the next two years.

I can not BELIEVE my life!

I’m blowed.

He Will Do It

One of my favorite blessings is when my homegirl Anna calls me during her break from teaching in Orlando.

“Girl, let me take my lunchbreak right now so I can talk to YOU!” I squeal into the phone while gathering my purse and car keys.

By the time I make it to my chill out spot in the parking lot of Wendy’s and lean my seat back for some much needed downtime, Anna and I are deep into conversation about the obstacles we are facing as professionals and the appreciation we have for each other and our other friends.

Today I brought up the subject of how as friends we are good for each other because we anticipate each other’s needs and have no problem meeting them if we can. We are always thinking of each other and if we are out shopping and we see something that would delight the other person, we pick it up just as though we are picking up something for ourselves. I then told her about another friend of mine who had been hinting to her boyfriend that she needed a few things but he had yet to take care of them although he is well capable of doing so.

“See!” she said, raising her voice two octaves. “Now, I’m not saying that my relationship with my fiance isn’t perfect but I love him because he takes care of me like he takes care of himself. I was on the phone with him one night and I mentioned that I would have to pay one of my bills late and that it would cost me an extra $15. Girl! Three days later I opened my mailbox and he had sent me three signed blank checks.”

“WHATTTT!!!!!!!!!!” I scream! “Oh my gosh! That’s what I’m talking about! That’s a provider! That’s an unselfish person. I’m so happy to hear that girl!”

As I continue to work things out in my career and hope for the one thing that has eluded me for almost of my life; true love, I know that it will happen one day because God makes all of my dreams come true. If He has positioned me to accomplish my goals so far and gifted me with the ability to be a stunner in everything that I do, then I KNOW that it’s not too farfetched to hope for a romantic relationship that is a replica of the relationships that I have with my friends.

The women that I am surrounded by are selfless, hardworking, creative and trustworthy. They KNOW me and they know my flaws and they love me anyway. In fact, they have to remind me that the characteristics that I consider to be flaws are the things they love most about me.

I had an interesting conversation with a chick I met this weekend. She was telling me the story about how she met her soulmate and she said, “You’ll know it’s him, when you see that- all those things you always thought were so fucked up about you- he’ll adore those things and he’ll encourage them and tell you all the time that he loves those things the most.”

“It will happen,” she said. “Because I never believed that it could happen to me, but it did and all I had to do was hold out and wait on God. I sacrificed my sex life for over a year and promised God that I would wait until He presented him to me and He did and now we’re a family. It happens.”

It happens.

It will happen.

Just like God carried you this far and continues to guide you toward your most amazing destiny, there are no exceptions to the scope of His love for you.

You will have what you most desire if it honors Him.

Just keep Him first, stay prayerful and believe in a love that is more powerful than any love you’ve ever experienced.

He wants to bless you.

And He will.

3 Confessions

I write on my blog as though I’m talking to my bestfriends, but I must admit, I do keep some things personal, a girl can’t reveal it all. But I trust you. I know you can keep a secret so I have three confessions to reveal that even some of closest friends don’t know. Here goes…

Confession # 1- I lost my Georgia virginity.

I met him at a club a few weeks ago. I was dead set against meeting anyone when I stepped inside and I made sure to give off the “don’t f**k with me” vibe. While following my entourage of women through the club I bumped into this man, looked up to say Excuse me and he smiled and grabbed my hand.

“Do I know you?” I asked him.
“No, but I want to know you.”

I laughed and kept walking, brushing him off. My gaggle of women paused suddenly, only a few feet away from where he was standing but out of his line of vision. Hmm. He was kinda cute. I like his glasses. He’s short too. Had a nice smile. “I think I’ll go talk to him,” I decided. But my feet didn’t move, although I willed them to take a step.

Ahh.. Forget it. I don’t want to talk to any men anyway. Vicky bought the first round of drinks, I bought the second. By my second glass I was all happy and smiling and I see him about to walk pass. Ofcourse he stops to say Hi again.

“You running away from me again?” he whispers into my ear.
“No, I’m not. What’s up with you?” I ask and smile coyly. I love to play the little innocent girl role. It’s so much fun.

We have a great conversation. Well, as good as it can get when you’re trying to talk to someone over banging music. The pulsating crowd keeps pushing us closer and closer together while he whispers compliments in my ear and places a firm hand on the small of my back.

“Yeah. He can get it,” I decide. I don’t have much to go on except the fierce sexual tension that has connected us. I spend the rest of the night laughing with him and at him because we are both clearly toasted.

“So. are you creative?” I ask him.
“Huh?”
“Do you do anything creative like writing or music or entrepreneurship?”
He laughs, “Naw. I work for Bellsouth. The best I can do is fix your phone line.”

We giggle for the rest of the night, our bodies touching occasionally, sending a wave of heat to all the right spots.

I feel a tap on my shoulder. “Girl, we’re ready to go.” I turn around and it’s Vicky.

“Dude, gimme a minute,” I tell her and turn back to my new friend, Mr. Telephone Man. We laugh some more and before I know it, Vicky is tapping me on the shoulder again. “We gotta go girl.”

Damn…I roll my eyes.

“Look, they’re ready to leave. I have to go.”

“No you don’t, you can leave with me,” he says and grins.

“I’m sure you’d like that, but it’s not gonna happen,” I say and begin to walk away. He pulls me back.

“Can I call you sometime?”

“Sure can,” I whisper as he pulls out his Blackberry and inputs my cell number- 786-XXX-XXXX”

I leave without looking back and we’re on our way to eat. We’re standing in line in the restaurant called Beautiful when I turn around and I’m surprised to see Mr. Telephone Man walk in with his friends.

After I pay for my food, I walk by him, stop and smile. His friends are looking at me and so are my friends. Everyone saw us glued together in the club so they start making fun of us. “Must be true love! Twice in one night!”

We giggle our drunk laughs as he motions with his phone toward me, “I’m gonna call you.”

“You better,” I say, giggle and walk away.

He calls me the very next day. “I just woke up from last night and the first thought on my mind was you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I know all about the 3 day call rule, but you were so special I had to break it.”

I laugh.

“What are you doing today?”

“Writing and I’m gonna watch The Flavor of Love tonight. It’s the finale.”

“Why don’t we watch it together? I can pick up something to eat if you want to come over.”

“Hmm…I guess. Let me call you back when I’m done with my stories.”

I call him back later in the evening and he gives me directions to his house. I get there just in time for the show to begin and thank God he is still as cute as he was when I met him. We have a great time and by the end of the night, he’s rubbing my arm and I don’t even mind. I allow him to hug me close and the affection feels so good that I melt. Damn. I really needed that touch.

Before things get too crazy, I stand up and announce that I’m about to leave. He smiles and walks me to my car. “I’ll call you tomorrow,” he tells me.

I feel like Monica. I wanna get down, but not the first night.

He calls me the next evening like clockwork and we chat but I have more writing to do so I don’t go see him.

The third day I call him and we meet up at his place to watch a movie, I bring dinner this time.

The next day he calls me and he grabs dinner when I come through.

“You wanna smoke?” he asks me.

“That sounds fun,” I reply and stretch, tired from my long day.

“Well, let’s go upstairs and smoke in my room.”

~raises eyebrow~

“Ok.”

He’s skinny. That’s so weird to me. I’m not the thickest chick but it’s funny to me when I meet men who are smaller than I am. I’m laying up with him in his bed while he tells me about growing up as an only child and how his mother and grandmother used to spoil him. I’m listening..but honestly I’m thinking about Dell. I’m wishing it was him I was chilling with. I shake the thought out of my head. Before I know it, he places his arm around me and pulls me closer, planting tiny kisses on my neck.

“I like that,” I whisper.
“You’ll like this even better,” he says and picks me up and places me on top of him so that we’re both sitting up face to face. He kisses me and I kiss him back. Alright Tee, let’s get it!

I back away and tug at his shirt. He smiles at me, removes his shirt and my hands fumble at his belt buckle.

He jumps up and goes into his dresser drawer and after a little searching I can see the gold foil wrappers shining from the light that is streaming in from the window.

Sorry… No HOB. But I must say Dude laid it DOWN DMX in Belly style! Afterwards I lay there like a rag doll, just cheesing. Oil change complete. He heads to the bathroom to get a towel to wipe himself off. He’s literally dripping wet with sweat from head to toe. He smacks my leg before he leaves the room, “That’s what you been missing out on, calling yourself trying to wait.”

When he returns we lay back in silence. Both of us are smiling and I decide that he is well capable of becoming my winter friend. He likes doing the same things I like to do and his schedule is clear after 5pm so he’ll never tell me he’s too busy to see me. Plus, he has a cozy townhouse in the West End, just a few minutes away from my job.

“Is that how you get down all the time?” I ask him, amazed.
“Every time,” he replies and looks at me. “I’m like 50 [cent]. I got the magic stick. If I can hit it once, I can hit it twice.”

I laugh. We head down to the kitchen for some water and I eat the rest of my food. We’re back up in his bed when he looks at me.

“I know you want some more.” he says and I laugh.
“Sure do.”
“Round two,” he says and repositions himself.

This time things don’t go like clockwork. I can’t get there…I need a little more foreplay because I’m not as aroused as I was before.

“Hollup…Why don’t you try (censored) that will help me become more aroused,” I tell him. I can see him roll his eyes and he gives me like 30 seconds of what I asked for.

“Um…I’m still not there,” I tell him. “Why don’t you try that again. I’m not into it yet.”

“SO!” he says in an angry tone which surprises the hell out of me. He gets off of me and moves onto the other side of the bed. “You know what? You’re selfish!” he tells me and folds his arms. I’m sitting there dumbfounded by his bratty behaviour.

“What?”

“You heard me! It’s not all about you. Why do I have to stop because you’re not into it?”

Hell naw! I jump up, put on my clothes and race down the stairs. He follows me and I open the door, expecting an apology or something. He doesn’t say a word. He simply closes the door behind me.

I’m livid as I start my car. Before I even get home I have already erased his number from my phone.

I haven’t heard from him since.

~shakes head~

Look at what happens when I try to get some…Man…Well, at least I’ll be straight for a few more months. I can’t believe his ass!

Confession #2- I met a girl

I met this chick when I first got here. We exchanged numbers on this friend tip but I could tell there was this weird vibe. We would keep in touch mainly through email, telling each other about our personal lives, our kids and our goals. I admitted that a lot of people think I’m bisexual because of my haircut and she said that she’s bisexual and she thinks I’m cute. Hmmm….

While I have always appreciated the beauty of a woman and I’ve had my experimental experience in college, I’ve never met a chick who I thought was so bad that I wanted to actually make a move on her, though I’ve wondered what it would be like to really be with a woman.

Since this chick was game, I decided to try it and see. My fear was that I would like it so much that I would never go back to men, seeing as how I have a fear on intimacy with men anyway. We met up for lunch Downtown and we ate lovely and laughed all afternoon, just like two regular girlfriends. Afterward she suggested we go back to her place to watch a movie. We ended up watching two movies and then it was getting late, but the wine bottle we had finished wouldn’t allow me to drive just yet.

I lay back on the bed and got comfortable as we chatted and watched MTV. I could tell that I was dozing off and I was startled when I felt a hand rub my leg. I jumped 6 feet in the air and sat straight up!

She laughed. “Why you actin like that?” she asked me and shrugged. “Um..What are you here for?”

“To chill!” I reply loudly. I’m suddenly afraid. Very afraid. I don’t really want to do this. She’s bigger than me. I can’t drive home. What if she beats me up?

“What if I took all of my clothes off right now and climbed under the covers?” she asks me.

“By the time you do that, I’ll already be asleep. Can you handle that?” I ask firmly, hoping she gets the point.

She looks at me, turns over and I hear her snoring after a few minutes. I look over at her sleeping, her hair all wild on the pillow.

I wrinkle my nose. Am I in the bed with a girl? Eww………………..This is sooooo………….gay.

I ain’t gay. I don’t want this chick to touch me. The flirting was fun but I’m not ready for all of this.

I make it through the night untouched and I quickly gather my things and head out quickly.

When I get home I’m relieved but I have my answer. I stil find women attractive but…I don’t want to touch them and I don’t want them touching me.

Now I know….

Confession #3- I’m Addicted to Love & Dell

I was reading this chick’s blog and I found it to be quite interesting. I scrolled through her entries and i found this link to a site for people who may be love addicts. I couldn’t even read through half of the list because I was convicted by the first few characteristics. Damn… Am I a love addict?How could I be when I have never really experienced real love? Maybe I’m addicted to the idea of love? Maybe my fear of never being good enough for someone to love has caused me to fixate on certain men when I KNOW they are emotionally unavailable to me.Case in point- Dell.I think about him all the time. Not all the time, ALL THE TIME. In fact, I don’t even see any other man. I still go out with some of the men I meet, but I do it just to get it out of the way. I do it with no expectations that I’ll like them at all, and it’s because of the standard that Dell has set. I compare everyone to him and no one has come near what I experience whenever we talk or hang out.I’d like to call it love, but it’s more of an infatuation. I’ve always been attracted to men that I have to motivate and educate and push toward their goals. Dell doesn’t need a damn thing from me. Dell doesn’t want a damn thing from me. He isn’t using me for my body, or for free meals or for womanly attention. He’ll be perfectly fine with or without me and that really turns me on.I can’t believe this man is not amazed by me like most of my groupies. He’s probably complimented me once and he only answers my calls half the time. He’s so opinionated and strong willed and so about his business. After I speak to him on the phone I just sit there in amazement and marinate on the conversation.I’m sure my friends are so tired of hearing me talk about him. I’m tired of talking about him too, but the thoughts that overwhelm my mind seem to escape so easily from my mouth. I wish I could just forget about him. I’ve deleted his number from my phone 5 times but I always put it back.~hangs head in shame~I feel like a love struck teenager again. I don’t know what to do. He’s so different from any man I’ve ever met. Two of my friends think it’s the old “you want what you can’t have” syndrome while Anna says that it’s only natural that I am extremely attracted to him because he embodies all of the qualities that I have always wanted in a man.I’m so goo goo over him that I even wrote about him in a column in last week’s magazine. The title of it is FIRST IMPRESSIONS.I’m such a dork. But at least I’m not afraid to admit it. Damn… I thought I’d feel better after releasing these confessions but now I just feel embarrassed…

It’s Not Them, It’s Me

On Thursday morning I woke up early to catch an 8am flight to Miami to visit my boys. Before I boarded the plane, I called Dell to say goodmorning and let him know that I was about to leave. Things have been going okay between us. He now answers most of my calls, or maybe I just can better gauge when it’s the best time to call him because he always seems happy to hear from me. We spend time together and I’m always a bundle of nerves. I try to remind myself to relax but for some reason I can’t. He’s a man and I expect that sooner or later he’s going to reject me, so my defense is to make it happen as soon as possible so I can breathe again.

I’m not trying to purposely push him away, I guess I’m just scared. So I run. I run away from men. But I’ll elaborate on that later.

As soon as my plane touched down in Miami and I stepped outside to be greeted by warm weather and Caribbean accents, I knew that I was back home. Marsha came to pick me up from the airport and we chatted all the way down to the rental car spot where I had reserved an Impala for the weekend. I didn’t like driving it though.

As soon as I sped away from the rental car spot, I raced up to my son’s first grade class to finally see him.

I waited in the classroom while the teacher picked them up for lunch and when I saw him run and hug me…I cried right there in front of everyone.`I cried and I hugged my baby while he packed up his school supplies.

“Mommy?” he asked matter of factly. “Do you have enough clothes for me to in Georgia so we can go?”

My heart broke.

I still don’t even have my own place in Georgia. I’m still going through growing pains at my job. I’m still unsure about a lot of things except…I miss my boys.

After I picked up my younger son we went to one of our favorite buffets and sat and talked. The best thing about my sons is they listen to me. I speak in simple terms but I don’t dumb down my vocabulary. When they don’t understand a word they stop me and ask me to explain it. After I do, they use it in a sentence and then they own the word.

My favorite place to talk to them (preach) is while we are driving. On route to South Beach for an afternoon sight seeing tour, I told my boys what was in my heart. I explained to them that Mommy is away right now, setting up things for their future and while I miss them everyday, their Daddy needs time with them too because he loves them just as much.

“We’re sharing,” I told them as they sat quietly in the backseat. Every once in a while I adjusted the mirrors to get a good look at them. “Your Daddy wants his time to live with you and love you. And Mommy needs this time to get her career together.”

“What’s a career?” my younger son asks.

“A career is more than a job and you know that all grown ups have to work to be able to live and pay for things. Some people have jobs, but some people are lucky enough to do what makes them happy and make money at the same time, that’s a career. What makes Mommy happy is working for magazines and writing and one day becoming a best selling author. Your Daddy had his time to get his career together so Mommy needs that time too. I promise you that I love you and I’m doing it all for you. Mommy’s in Georgia working. Nothing more. I wish I was here with you but I know we’ll be back together again. And I’m glad your Daddy is taking such good care of you. We’re going to be alright, boys. I just need some more time to get things going smoothly.”

They told me they understood, but did they really? They’re only 4 and 6 years old. All they know is, they miss their Mommy. I miss them too.

We had a great time hanging together everyday. I preach about success and life and they listen. We took the Duck Tour of South Beach and cruised by the multi million dollar homes on the man made islands of Biscayne Bay. When we passed Shaq’s house my sons got so excited as they caught a glimpse of the miniature statue of himself that he has on his dock.

“One day we’re gonna have a house like that,” I told my boys.

“Why?” my 4 year old asked me.

“Because Mommy expects nothing but the absolute best from life. I want us to live nicely and I’m working on that.”

On Saturday we spent the morning at the beach. They ran around and made sand cakes and played along the water’s edge while I got some sun. Ofcourse during my idle time, my thoughts turned to Dell and I called him up to say Hi. Ofcourse he was working but he took the time to take my call. I was surprised. Even more so when I arrived in Miami and I got a call from him asking if I had made it safely. He’s calling me during the day to–talk???

What?

I didn’t even know how to respond. I’m used to giving to men and not getting anything in return. In fact I give too much so much so that they don’t feel like they have to give anything to me. They don’t.

By the time I spent time with my friends Marsha, Dianna and my aunts and uncles and made sure to spend the majority of my time with my sons I was exhausted.

I hopped back on the plane on my way back to Atlanta and when I arrived I was greeted by cold weather and a $42 parking ticket because I had to leave my car at the airport while I was gone.

As I drove home I cried again. I’m back. Back to business. This feels like an extended business trip. My time here in Atlanta is nothing more. I have no source of pleasure here. It’s just me…my wonderful job that comes with so many challenges…and then I’m in the house, alone.

No smiles, no hugs. No warmth. Just work and loneliness. No kids. No guyfriend. No affection. Just me and my black and milds. The couch and my cell phone.

I am in such a need of a genuine hug it’s ridiculous. Actually, I stole one from Marsha while I was down there. I took the boys by to see her and we sat on the couch and talked for a while. I reached over and wrapped my arms around her tightly and she gave me a big hig back. She let me cry and hold her for maybe 5 minutes while she rubbed my arms and whispered that things will work themselves out.

I feel like a nomad. No home. Searching for a place that will bring a smile to my face. Searching for approval and acceptance.

I guess my search needs to begin within myself. I have conditioned myself to believe that I am unworthy of love and any chance I get will ultimately end in ruin so I simply speed up the process.

I guess I figure that if I can get a man to tell me he doesn’t like me and why then I can rest. I feel comfort in that rejection, if that makes any sense.

Cuz what would I actually do if a man decided he liked me?

I was mean to Dell this weekend and he didn’t deserve it. I even walked out on him because I felt like he was rejecting me when he really wasn’t. I feel so embarrassed and ashamed. I called him back to apologize and he was like, “Okay.” But I don’t think I’ll call him again. He doesn’t need to be bothered with my insecurities. I’m sure he can find a much more stable woman.

Sometimes the realization of your dreams is way more frightening than the failures you meet along the way. I dared to take notice of a wonderful man and took a risk by letting him know that I like him. Instead of playing it cool and allowing things to develop, I had to force his hand at rejecting me and ended things hurtfully.

Yeah…Good Ol Ms. Tee.

You can always count on those kind of endings…

To be continued…