The Unusual

What it is, sippers?

It’s Finals Week around these parts. Luckily, I just wrapped mine up earlier today so I am smooth coasting until January 11^th, 2016. I’ll really be acting a fool in May 2016 cause your girl will permanently be saying goodbye to the undergrad life at UCF!

For now, I’m just chilling these days. I am appreciating life more often than ever, especially after spending some intimate time with my Auntie Cent during the Thanksgiving break.

I’ll continue to rock out with my cock out, as I would tell the next person.

This evening, I want to explore a dimension that is very much innate and familiar to me, and it’s something that’s much instilled in me because I personally live by it. To my readers, or at least some of you, it may not be that familiar.

How often do gender roles come up in the average conversation? How about personal conversations that you may have with your girlfriends or your homeboys?

How much of that conversation actually stimulates you? How much of it actually empowers you?

How often do you “live” or “abide by” the imaginary “standards” of gender roles? Do those affect you?

How many of you say “screw the rules”? How many of you disregard everything that your momma and aunties and grandmothers have schooled you on?

You know, it’s not surprising that virally, some believe that I’m a man basher. This was even physically said to me.

However, that doesn’t offend me. To define this blog under the same standard could be made logical to some, and for that, I will let everyone’s imagination run wild. Humbly, I’ll be proud to say I love the different perspectives of this blog, and I will take that name as a compliment. Tonight, I won’t be as such 🙂

I just want to flip mental states like a pancake and shake up your thoughts like a nice can of Coke.

If you are an avid reader, you should be familiar with how much I am an advocate for self-confidence in women. This is the basis of our core. Many of the decisions we make in life is determined from that core within ourselves.

When’s the last time you had a self-check? Has your confidence been shaken up lately to where you have to take a step back and re-evaluate your very being? Do you find more ways to reassure and seal your core?

Keep following me here.

Once you are familiar with your core, let’s take a leap on a lily pad.

When you walk down the street, what does your strut scream about you? Do you illustrate a woman on the go or a free flowing spirit? Either of these choices are 100% fine.

And as you walk, and ponder and think, or examine the patterns of the sky, is there anything else that can draw your attention away from that for a moment?

Could the way the wind blows in your hair or attempts to lift up your skirt make you smile?

Within all of this, is your core still intact?

We’re almost there.

Is your core still sealed within your folds to where you won’t shake or tremble if a man approaches you?

Better yet, would your core still be core if you were the woman to approach that same man?

Here it is.

Let’s discuss The Unusual.

How many times have you heard what I call “The Golden Rules” from your female and sometimes male elders?

You know, the basic and universally accepted rules under the dating and chivalry umbrella.

I am challenging one that my mom has often said to me.

“You let the man approach you.”

And for the majority of my life, that is exactly what I lived by. It didn’t matter how great you were or how you seemed to be, or how nicely you clenched your jaws while perplexed, or even how tight your waves looked and how your edge up was tantalizing. If you didn’t approach me, I wouldn’t speak to you. He, would have simply been, a dream gone poof.

Interesting.

The older I became, and the more experiences that I have conquered and stored in my archives of life, the more it became crystal clear that that indeed, is a limited way to live.

Why?

Because my core is intact.

“That’s not my place to do that.” That was once my favorite line to say.

Gender roles. It is highly perceived that the male is the initiator in almost everything in life.

However, it is where I differ and state firmly that a man does not always have to approach a woman first.

And that does not make him weak.

And that does not make the woman look manly, either.

It’s called being confident. It’s called having a core. It’s being sure of yourself.

“I don’t want to be rejected.”

Let’s go back to the brief scenario I provided with you walking down the street.

Go back. Is your core intact?

Let me go deeper. How you act in public in the streets reflect how you feel in the mirror at home.

I, for one, walk with my head held high, and sometimes, my nose may be up to where it touches a cloud.

What does your body language say about you?

How you are in public illustrates how you feel at home. Home, meaning in, solitude. That time where it is you versus you. Where you stare in the mirror and either nitpick at everything you see, or praise and appreciate the being that is staring right back at you.

Now, revisit the question. Is your core intact? If core isn’t acting as a core, this must be sealed, repaired, and ready for war. Your self-confidence is the main determinant in the choices that you make. Whether that be academically, financially, and even in the love department. Especially in the love department.

If this core is a core, rejection should rarely and never be an issue to do something that you feel.

And if that feeling is to approach a man and strike up a conversation, then there shouldn’t be any hesitation.

For what? Scared for what reason? Your core is intact, correct? You have mad love for yourself, correct? You do know your worth, correct? And you do realize that what is meant to be will be, right? What is for you, is only for you and no one else, hmm?

Tina says, “What’s love got to do with it?”

I say, “Why does rejection make you feel as though you are losing?”

Sometimes, our confidence does get shaken, much harder than K. Michelle shook the table. But damn, who said that you lost? What if in all actuality, it’s that other individual that’s really the loser? Who took the fattest L of the century because they missed out and will continue to miss out on a bomb person like you?

Ladies, I’m not saying you have to ask a man on a date. I am an advocate for women proposing to men, either.

But honey, if your core is intact, and you love the true woman you are, then I don’t see anything wrong with living limitlessly, and that includes striking up a conversation with a man you may find attractive.

What is truly the worst that can happen? You couldn’t possibly feel less of a woman, could you?

The man is still being the man. Hell, you aren’t taking all of his “responsibilities” from him.

“That’s just not my style.”

And that’s cool. Maybe it isn’t in everyone’s personality type. But in society, this shouldn’t be taboo. Don’t shame the next woman for wearing the hell out of her big girl panties and asking Jaron from her Psychology class to study later on at Starbucks.

I have plenty of stories of me approaching men. In the grocery store, at Barnes & Nobles, the park, the museum, on a solo dinner date with myself at a restaurant, at school… the list goes on.

Do I like being approached? Of course. I am still a woman.

But if I see something I like, or something I find intriguing, I have no problem speaking.

At all times, I am a woman with a plan.

And shoot, maybe in that certain day, my plan was to get to know the nicely built man dressed in a suit buying porkchops by asking him a question to create a conversation.

To each his own.

Have I been rejected? Of course. I used to a lot when I was younger.

I was still a butterfly. It never made me completely want to creep back in my cocoon.

I was still a butterfly. I may have been a black butterfly, but I was still flying. And after a while, it never stopped me from landing on another shoulder or finger.

Because by then, I developed my core to finally be stone cold.

For all sexes, confidence is key. And confidence will get you a long way. There are probably some men who have the woman of their dreams now because they took that leap of confidence, whether it was that they were scared of rejection, afraid of not looking good enough to her standards, not having the latest gear, or not having wads of cash.

And possibly, there are women who may have the man they want to be with for their rest of their lives because they also took that leap of confidence, regardless of size, physical features, or the fear that he would be another f*ck boy that would straight up play her.

Live limitlessly.

If it works out, great. If it doesn’t, don’t sweat it. Don’t let it disintegrate your space or your inner being- your core.

Hope I have your wheels turning just a bit. If not, some oil will do the job.

Feel free to leave your comments below.

 

Until next time, tea indulgers.  

Rock Out With Your …. Out

Welcome back, tea sippers!

I hope you all had a great Thanksgiving break! I ate very well, but I wouldn’t mind having some more macaroni… if it weren’t already gone. I might have gotten thicker but honey, I probably wouldn’t even notice.

Ladies, I hope yall still like what yall see in the mirror! Fellas too. 😉

Over the break, I learned a lot. Ironically, classes weren’t in session, and the homework I had to complete over the break was minimal, but I learned so many life lessons. And I’m dedicating this blog post just to that.

The title of this blog might puzzle you, but hopefully you’ll understand how it’s tied together in the end.

Rock Out With Your …. Out

It seems as though during the holiday periods, things get easier, or things really get tougher.

The first holiday of the season, that being Thanksgiving, was way easier to deal with than last year. I lost my grandmother on Veteran’s Day last year, so as I ate my turkey over two weeks later, the tears seemed to get lost in my food.

But, time heals all wounds. That’s what they say, and that’s what I know.

I had a nice Thanksgiving this year. It didn’t hurt as much. But I would have liked to see more of my family. However, I’m still thankful.

One of my great aunts, who we will address as Auntie Cent, is battling cancer.

I first had heard the news from my family members when she first entered the hospital. I didn’t know what to say, especially with everything I had on my plate at the time. I said a silent prayer and I tried to move on about my day.

When I came home for Thanksgiving, I heard that she was out of the hospital and back at my late great-grandmother’s house (which is her mother’s house). I thought of giving her a call, to see if she was well up for company, but decided to take a ride instead.

You see, Auntie Cent is truly one a kind. She loved her cigarettes and she loved her books. She educated herself on almost everything that exists on the planet and it wasn’t much that she wasn’t passionate about. The twinkle in her eyes became permanent in my sight for a while, because her love for life wasn’t anywhere close to dying.

I had to prepare myself to see Auntie Cent, because I knew that she had lost a significant amount of weight. It almost reminded me of the times where I would see my grandmother in the nursing home.

You just never know what you are going to get, and how it will impact you.

My mom and I walked in, feeling a chipper yet somber atmosphere in the house.  Auntie Cent was chilling to say the least; she was giving this lollipop she was consuming the work.

I greeted her with love, and her same spirit smacked me in the face like it usually did. Her spirit clinged to me and blemished me like a food stain I had on my shirt from the cafeteria back in my elementary school days.

Her same spirit, it wasn’t unchanged. It didn’t move. It still was there for her to claim.

She never abandoned it. She never left it astray.

How could a woman battling cancer be preserved in this way?

“Cent, you are sure messing up that lollipop!” My mom joked.

“Well, what else can I do?” She chuckled. “I’d rather have a cigarette, but that’s a no go.” She shook her index finger side to side and a roar of laughter soon began to follow.

“Honey, I would rather have Crown Royal… Make it a double…On the rocks…” She muttered with a smirk on her face. “But, this lollipop will due.”

An instant smile appeared on my face. Her spirit and comedic touch was still intact. I no longer walked on eggshells as I felt when first coming into the room she laid in. I began to interact, and I began to really talk with her.

Auntie Cent is a big influence to me that she may never understand. You see, Auntie Cent motivated me to write my first book. It was a children’s book filled with narrative stories, each chapter being a different adventure.

My Auntie Cent went and got my book published for me. My very first book.

I had to be at least eleven years old.

And look at me, my Auntie Cent published what was a dream for me, into reality.

Auntie Cent was a writer herself. Her book was published in 2002.

I could now well understand where part of the writer in me derived from.

My very own, Auntie Cent.

We talked about her book, and how she wanted to keep her website up in case anyone wanted to still keep in contact with her about the book, and she was very pleased to know that I am in the works of writing another book.

She talked about how she wanted her muscle to return back into her arms, how she happy to move around her bed, and how her daughter, who is my aunt (we’ll call her Auntie Dai), goes on adventures to the grocery store and to Denny’s for breakfast. She beamed as she remembered how delicious her Lumberjack Slam tasted and how the sunrays made her feel alive.

My issues didn’t matter at that point.

Nothing that was on my mind mattered, either.

Everything I was facing didn’t amount to what Auntie Cent was facing.

How could Auntie Cent be more joyous than me? How could Auntie Cent feel rejuvenated from just simply stepping outside, no matter how weak she felt?

Auntie Cent was thankful, she was blessed, and she is still very much humble.

Here I was, tripping out about school, stressing about finding a job after graduation, making sure I amount to something with my degree, worrying about the guy I was interested in and why he wasn’t hitting me back, and going back and forth in my mind about how many days I took off from my job and how that will affect me later.

None of it mattered.

Everything is temporary.

“Don’t sweat the small stuff… cause it’s all small stuff.”

It all is small stuff! Nothing amounts to where I must stress and be depressed that much to where I am taking my own quality of life.

And nothing in your life is that big, either.

I learned this holiday break that you honestly have to be grateful for life and its contents, no matter what you may be facing because there is always someone who is going through it worse than you.

Learn to uplift others.

Love yourself by continuously uplifting yourself and those around you.

Life is short.

Appreciate it, and take a bite at it every single time, even when you do not have the appetite to do so.

I had a late night talk with a man, who I think of as special, one day over the break. We talked about an array of topics, and life happened to be one of them.

He commended me on my accomplishments, and I blushed from the fact that he actually paid attention.

He even commended me on this blog, and gave me many ideas on how I could branch out and be the real deal.

He ended it off by saying, “Rock out with your c*ck out.”

I chuckled because this was something I often said to motivate others, that including myself. It may be a little vulgar, but it’s a bold statement, and hey, I’m a pretty bold person.

He passed it to me.

And I passed it back to myself.

And now, I pass it to you all.

I pass that to my Auntie Cent, who I pray enjoys her days of life harder than she ever has.

And I know she is.

 

The holidays are here. But even when this season is to pass, always be aware of how fortunate you really are.

Humbleness and humility go a long way. Let it prolong your days of life.

 

It’s working wonders for my Auntie Cent.

 

Until next time. 

Too Comfortable

Welcome back, sippers! I know I usually make my appearances on Thursday evenings, but with the day I had yesterday… all I needed was a drink and my bed.

 

Early morning tea never hurt anybody, right? 🙂

 

Can you believe November is almost over? Jeez, the year pretty much flew by, and honestly, I’m ready for 2016.

 

I’m more ready for this semester to be over.

 

And definitely ready for graduation in May. Haaaaalllllleeeeeeluuuuujjjjjaaaaah. *insert praise break here*

 

Today’s tea features another issue that I have been asked to spotlight anonymously. And I will gladly do the job.

 

It’s closer to the holidays… Well heck, we are pretty much already head first into the holidays, especially with Thanksgiving being less than a WEEK away. Ladies, you if you tryna get thick like a thoroughbred, then y’all betta eat as good as I’m about to at the crib!

 

Why is it that around the holiday times of the year, that ladies and men focus so much on whether they have a significant other or not?  When I often don’t understand things, I try to stick myself in the same situation and evaluate how I would feel.

 

Yes, a lot of love is shown during this time period, many tend to get engaged, and you hear the constant tales of “Oh my gosh, he bought me this!” and “Oh my lawd, he’s taking me here!”

 

To a single individual, I can see how it can be annoying.

 

But single folks like me, we can chew this and swallow it with no extra effort needed. Especially if you’re a vet in the single game. I’m talking, 3 years plus.

 

That’s where I land at. It doesn’t matter what time of the year it is. We’re chilling, we’ve been chilling, and we might get in our feelings every now and then about being so single, but we hold it down until it’s time to snatch somebody up.

 

But… For the ones who are in relationships… And I’m talking about those that have put some real time in.. I’m talking 3 years plus… What do you do when you… Plateau?

 

Is it a joint effort as to why and how a couple plateaus? Or could one person make the necessary actions to change a whole state of a relationship?

 

That’s debatable. I believe it could go both ways. I, however, believe that there is one reason, on the top of my list, as to why relationships that were once gold…. tarnish into another form.

 

 

I’m not saying this to shake you up

I’m just saying this to wake you up

It’s all good when we making love

All I ask is don’t take our love

For granted, it’s granted

My love for you, is real

Baby if you don’t love me

Somebody else will

So don’t you ever get too comfortable… 

 

Lil Wayne created a hit, with a pretty impactful meaning.

 

There it is folks. I believe that my Sistah is going through the motions because of two main reasons:

 

1. Her man became too comfortable.
2. She allowed her man to remain comfortable.

 

I’ve been in a relationship for almost 3 years, and I can say, it’s easy to spot the signs of your significant other becoming comfortable, but it’s up to that individual to allow the behavior or nip it in the bud.

 

Here’s the scenario:

 

Sistah Girl (we’ll just call her Sistah- all my ladies who ask me to spotlight anonymously will be addressed as this) has been with her man for going on 5 years. Beautiful, right?

 

Her man has been sweet and kind to her over the years; taking her out, traveling together, keeping up communication, and even keeping it spicy in more ways than she could imagine. Once upon a time, this man made her knees weak, made seduction filled chills slither up and down her spine, and he kept her mind only fulfilled of him, what he does, and what he says he will do for her and to her.

 

Sistah fell into a deep whirlpool of something more than lust. Before he secreted his magic potion from his love gun, Sistah treated him like the average guy. He was persistent yet cool, and he obviously did what he had to do to have Sistah snatched up by him, for him. She convinced everyone around her that they were soul mates, and never hid her love of him from the world.

 

Sistah was proud. Sistah was a woman with her emotions out to see and conceive. Sistah had her nose wide open, much more than the two legs she walked with, and much harder than the knees she’s bruised from praying for that man every single day and night. Sistah felt more of a woman knowing that she had him by her side, and she took more pride that she was never on the side. He wined and dined her, and made her fall even more after each intimate kiss. Her feelings were building up to form a rapture, something more like an entrapment that she never wanted to be free of. The bass and command in his voice made her eyes wide shut and womanhood tremble. Sistah had a man. Sistah was gonna keep her man.

 

As the years went on, Sistah’s dry eyes became moist- that was probably the only thing on her body to do so. Her man wasn’t the same man she happened to snag some years ago. She always stayed home, while he went out and played in the streets, and often, he never had to ask her what they were having to eat. Makeup on his shirt, and different scents on his body began to become potent as she struggled to hold on. She once used to sprint to the mall to find a new outfit, or get a new lipstick that would complement her skin. She no longer desired to keep her flipped like he used to adore, cause he used to pay her attention.

 

Sistah wanted to stay in love so badly, but she simply had no one to stay in love with. She watched her man reveal layers to him that he had never made visible before. She thought she knew her man inside out. Clothing him, cooking his favorite meals, and knowing how he exactly liked to get serviced, we’re not the same things that were keeping him home.

 

He became metamorphic in her eyes, and it wasn’t for the better.

 

Her man was getting worse, while her intuition and mind were getting better.

 

She knew what was happening, and the more she thought about how it was going down, she mentally drowned in the quicksand of what was left of their relationship.

 

She turned a blind eye to obvious things, and for the sake of love she didn’t disturb the peace.

 

Anything that he did before to catch her, he clearly wasn’t doing to keep her.

 

He was comfortable.

 

And Sistah was allowing him to remain comfortable.

 

 

I place this hot tea cup in my hand, and place it under her nose.

 

Wake up and smell the tea!

 

If you noticed that you are seeing more valleys than peaks in your relationship, why not speak on it? Before you decided to commit to this man, and him commit to you, there was a basis of communication that existed. Now that you are in a situation where you need the communication, the cat- not the one you put on him- has evidently got your tongue.

 

Don’t be foolish for any antics that a man tries to present to you. Don’t be naive to what is happening right in front of you.

 

If you ever feel like you have to tip toe around a man, and in your relationship, you probably have reached the near and dear end to it all.

 

There’s no way I will be a prisoner of war for love. There’s no way that when I’m hurt, I’m in hush mode. There’s no way that when a man has treated me like a queen, I will act as a peasant as he does what he now pleases.

 

It seems you, my Sistah, has gotten comfortable too.

 

Is that love to you? I think self-preservation is what needs to go on today, as my girl Candi Staton would sing.

 

Don’t be no fool when love really don’t love you…

 

Holding on to the years is easy to do. The real challenge is measuring your worth and if the relationship is even worth it.

 

Sistah, do you what you got to do. You see him stepping out, coming home when the sun rises, and doesn’t do anything to pamper you or make you feel loved too. You’re sticking out your neck for a man who slowly doesn’t even acknowledge you.

 

I can’t tell you what to do, but I can only suggest what might be best for you.

 

Move on like Mya.

 

 

Sippers, I’ll hold you to the same advice I’m anonymously dishing to Sistah, because the lesson is universal.

 

There are consequences in comfortability.

 

Choose your solutions wisely.

 

Sistah, I hoped that I’ve help to paint a realistic point of view to you to decipher. All the best. ❤

 

Thanks for tuning in to another week of tea, my lovelies. For the holiday, I’ll be spending it with my family just as you all will! Therefore, I’ll meet you all right back here on the week of December 1st.

 

Have a safe and food filled holiday! Check y’all next month.

When A Woman’s Fed Up…

Welcome back, tea sippers! Hope your week is going pretty smooth as mine is.

I liked the feedback I received from last week’s post. It’s good to bond with like-minded individuals and learn from others who may disagree with you.

As I have stated before, a man will never hide me. If a man isn’t proud of me in private and in public, then me and that man, were simply not meant to be.

Just remember your worth, ladies. There’s a difference in a relationship being private and your partner being silent about you.

Today’s post will flow just a little bit differently. As you all can see, writing is my thing. Not only do I write short stories, I am an avid poetry producer. I like to write little pieces here and there to just illustrate a glimpse of my feelings, and what others all over the world could be feeling too.

It may be a little dark. It may be a little controversial. Maybe, even contradicting.

I introduce, “Bree’s Brew”. My own little poetry corner.

Here’s my first pot.

When A Woman’s Fed Up…

When a woman is fed up…

Is there anything you can do to stop her?

Lies after lies, defeat after defeat

Can you really shake her?

You see the look in her eyes

Full of rage and scorn

And yet every time you part your lips

You add more and more

When a FUCKING WOMAN is fed up…

You can’t visualize the pain?

When she spits, it’s no longer sweet as a swisher

Her truths might hit hard like blood splatter on denim

But she reacts quickly like a snake ejecting its venom

When a DAMNED WOMAN is fed up…

What causes you to piss her off more?

Promising that your same plays would be retired

You give her the illusion that you are like a lion in a cage

And then you returned them back on the same stage?

When a TIRED WOMAN is fed up…

MAC Concealer couldn’t do the best of jobs

Bags under her eyes

Bags on her back

God damn bags in HER heart from putting the Bag in “Bag Lady”

Because the previous negro was too piss poor to take out the trash

When an ERRATIC WOMAN is fed up…

Nothing you can do will please her

Every time you spit a phrase that you appraise as factual

She’ll smack and slap it right back nowhere near sexual

But serve it better than Serena would

No one is a greater debater than a woman like she

Denzel could provide all the teaching and all the readings

But Henry Lowe would still say “NO!”

When a BATTERED WOMAN is fed up…

She wanted her face beat

I mean, beat to the gods so she could look stunning for you

MAC and Sephora could have made your woman look all the best just for you

She came home preparing your dinner and had your fucking slippers just to “Cater To You”

My sistah was in love, in lust, and sprung just for you

She’s too dumb to believe in you

That you wouldn’t lay another finger on her soul

She cooked and cleaned to perfection to defeat a wall in her house with another hole

But instead you grabbed a revolver and punctured and pierced her

God damn, another muthafucka who is COLD!

You beings with pride and penises

That may dangle with a sense of nobility

Some of you should be stripped of humility

Of what you truly put others through

A woman is a giver, barely a receiver

But her dumb ass waits by the receiver

Just to receive something like a breather

If you were to call her on some bullshit

Tryna slide in the sheets and be her heater

And when you finally receive her

The warmth of her lips and the deepness of her love den

How pussy of you to finesse, caress, and beat

Skeet, skeet, till the wee hours until you fall asleep

Creep, creep when you completed your deed

And have the repeated cycle of my sistah crying herself to sleep?

Snatch it, take it, by all means necessary

No intention of loving her but you loved the way that she rolled over

On her back with security cause she always repeated

“Baby, don’t hurt me”

And you nuzzled her back with a grope and kiss

And guzzled her production when her muscles got loose

God damn, you men are so damn CREUL!

How you gon take my love and don’t give none back?

You keep thrashing me with the fear of you having to actually be a man

And stand

And say that you can’t be the man you need to be for a woman like me

How can a woman have more heart than you?

How can a woman stand up after defenseless wars and keep fighting

Unlike YOU?

So men, and maybe some women

Don’t ever underestimate the contents of a woman

Because when a WOMAN is fed up…

Bitch, you don’t have time for the runnin’.

My sistahs at work keep it gunnin’

And if the revolver ends up in your mouth

My G, now you have been summoned.

——————————–

Thinking about recording this piece.

Until next week.

None Or Your Friend’s Business…Or The World, At That

Welcome back, tea sippers!

I thought sharing last week’s post “Blind Date Blues” would give you all a chuckle here or there, but I see that it was comical to you all just like it is for me now. I mean, really, could you imagine?!

I don’t discourage blind dates, but I know for a fact that they are not for me. It’s funny, because who knows, it could be a blind date that leads me to the man of my dreams.

….Or not!

Whatever path my future man plans to take, I just hope I’m well-mannered and mentally prepared for the ride. 🙂

As you all know, I like to consider myself a guru of knowledge, especially when it comes to that thing called relationships. Some like to say I’m an expert, but I don’t know everything under the sun.

But the things I do know, I make sure to share.

Before we begin, I have to give a shoutout to all my new readers. Welcome to Tea, Bree, and Breathe! Most of my sippers call the blog TBB. I met quite a few of my new sippers this week, and you all are really awesome. Once again, thank you to ALL my readers for supporting and please, keep sipping! Tell a friend to sip too 🙂

Let us continue.

None Or Your Friend’s Business…Or The World, At That

Here’s a question for thought: As a person, what all is off limits to disclose? That could include your personal issues, your relationship, your family, school life, career, or even the dreams you store in your head and heart that you want to make true.

Me?

I don’t share my business- I share my experiences. Can you see the difference in the two?

I don’t mind disclosing what could help the next person. Hence, that’s one of the reasons I brought this baby to life.

Let’s go back to the different things that could be off limits for someone to disclose about themselves.

Out of all the things I named, do you know which one is the one that is almost always at the top of the list?

Relationships.

Sometimes, it is women who don’t want to disclose that they have a man in their life, for reasons of their own.

Not to be bias, but primarily, its men who do it the most, and are the best at doing it.

Why?

A few reasons include….

“I like my relationships low-key.”

“I’m low-key.”

“Everybody don’t gotta know.”

“What’s understood doesn’t need to be explained.”

“I don’t want nobody to sabotage what we got.”

“The less people, the better.”

“I don’t like everybody in my business.”

Sounds about right.

However, I am here to debate this: When does one cross the line in between “not having anyone in their relationship business” and “not acknowledging or showing that fact that you are in a relationship”?

Because you know, there is a difference.

How long can you be with your significant other and actually keep them a secret?

See, that’s the issue there. Why should it be a secret?

What you guys do could be considered a “secret”. What you guys have been through as a couple is something else that you two would want or already do to consider it  a “secret”.

But being in that actual relationship? I wouldn’t hold it as a secret.

This could be much debated -and I always welcome healthy debates- but if I’m in a relationship that I am and have been committed to, I don’t see anything positive with harboring that as a secret.

If we are together, we are together. I see it as a sign of disrespect if a man was to ever tell me not to discuss him or the fact that I was simply in a relationship with him.

Do not get me wrong. It’s one thing for a partner to talk about personal things in the relationship that only should be between them two. I am an advocate for keeping my business between my partner and I, always.

However, I will not hide the fact that I am in a relationship. For what? Why be with someone and you feel as though you have to hide that? Fellas would say “I don’t want everybody in my business” or “I don’t want anybody getting at my girl.”

That’s bullshit. Stop being insecure that another man will try to “get at your girl”.

If you are taking care of business, that would never have to be your concern.

I mean really, why hide that you have found somebody amazing and you all have decided to be committed to each other? My goodness, is that a crime?

I would be proud to be in a relationship with someone that is good to me. Not saying I would boast and show off because of it, but you would see the joy in me. I wouldn’t hide that sunshine in my skies.

Now if you want to know what time my man came over, if he slept over, which one of his t-shirts I went to sleep in, and how he made my eggs in the morning, that my friend, is none of your business, your friend’s business, or the world, at that.

Now run and tell that.

Now what about social media? Seems like everyone has a least one form of it. How do you feel about sharing your relationship on social media sites?

You’ll have those same fellas reason that they still don’t want anyone in their business.

You’ll even have some fellas who would feel strongly if you were to post a picture of them on your social networks.

Quite frankly, ladies could be a little different with this one. Some of us want to be the #WCW, and we can’t wait to display our #MCM when the time is right.

Me?

Chile, I haven’t really been in a relationship to where I would have the feel or need to post any pictures of my partner or us together on social media. If you a reader of TBB, you will know that Twan was my last relationship, and when I did post a picture of him and us, I was in a heap of mess because when it came to posting pictures,  so was the rest of his girlfriends.

That doesn’t discourage me though. When I feel like you are committed to me and only me, and I can see that and feel that, it is then that I would share you with my world publicly.

I feel that women and men should really think about that. Once this person has proved that they are down for you and only you, would that give you enough reason or comfort to share them in another way?

Look, there are many people I have talked to and dated since my last relationship.

Have you seen them?

No, because they did not reach that level to where I had enough reason to share them into my world. They did not reach relationship material.

Everyone is NOT worthy of that, so do not give them access!

Check me out. A relationship should be limited to where everyone isn’t in your business, yes. However, it should NOT be a secret that you are in a relationship. You do not have to post pictures of your partner all day and everyday (cause nowadays that doesn’t mean anything), but universally, all across the board, it should be evident that you are in a committed relationship and that you have a woman or man in your life. Period.

If you partner gets offended or highly defensive when it comes to the general disclosure that you all are in a relationship, chances are, your partner is hiding something.

Which is why, subliminally, they want to hide you.

If that’s the case, I’m sure you can play hide and go seek by your damn self.

Find another that will be proud of you and what you two have.

Know the difference. Pay attention to signs. Communicate with your partner.

Even if these tasks alone are difficult to do, my goodness, he or she might be hiding you.

Some things are not your friend’s business, or the world’s business to know.

But if a man is going to be with me, he will not walk around single. Women will not refer to him as a single man. They don’t have to know me personally, but they will know that he is accounted for.

And if a man has a problem with me because of that, then that wasn’t my man to begin with.

Know your worth. Are you a precious gem that the rays of light cannot see?

Not I. I’m a proud gem and I will shine at all times.

Your partner should want you to shine. But if they decide to play the role of dark clouds, there are other skies that you can seize. There are other lands where you can roam free.

Know your worth.

All comments and healthy debates are welcome. I was inspired to write this post because I have a friend, who will remain anonymous, that currently has a man who she has been with for almost a year, and he doesn’t want her to post anything about him or them at all. He doesn’t want their relationship or the fact that they are together discussed or mentioned. He has even said that if she was to post a picture of him or them, he wouldn’t take pictures with her anymore.

Consider this my piece of advice to you and the world, my friend.

Anonymously.

I hope you take it, apply, reflect, and deduct. In that order.

And for those who needed this message as urgently as her, I am sure that I have fulfilled that purpose.

teabreeandbreathe@gmail.com  can be used for all inquiries, personal one on ones, and as an anonymous advice sanctuary. If there is something you would love to see me write on publicly, I am all ears… and fingers.

I hope you enjoyed tonight’s post.

Until next week.

Blind Date Blues

Welcome back, tea sippers!

Thanks to everyone who participated in last week’s blog post. I received some interesting feedback and was able to dish out some advice as well.

I’ll take it!

And Homecoming last week was….. LIT. Certainly went out with a bang for my last Homecoming as an undergrad!

Tonight’s tea explores one “adventure” in my life that is very comical to me now.

Ladies and gents, how many times have you either been dragged to accompany your homeboy or home girl when they were going out with their boo? I mean, being the third wheel and playing it well.

Well, this role isn’t foreign to me. As a matter of fact, once upon a time I thought I had a permanent note on the center of my forehead that read, “Forever The Third Wheel”.

It’s especially more comical when you really don’t know what you signed up for, and shoot, who you are really signed up with.

Blindly.

As friends, sometimes us ladies we have to take the L, and the fellas… how do the fellas like to say it… “take one for the team”.

Hell, you know it wasn’t that type of party, but my friends could never say I am a cock-blocker.

*insert side eye here*

Let’s get into tonight’s brew.

Blind Date Blues

“Aww, man! Come on sis, don’t be like that!” Cakes begged me as I rolled my eyes harder than an eight year old.

“HELL. NO.” I replied, sternly.

Cakes was one of my first friends I made in college and she was really a sister to me. There isn’t much we haven’t been through together, and through the good, the bad, and the ugly, we still remain. Forreal.

“I get tired of you tryna always set me up with these losers!” I flipped my hair.

“But he ain’t a busta! My dude has good friends… and he’s hooking you up with one for tomorrow!” Cakes exclaimed.

“Look. We are just going to Disney, and it ain’t for me to find a love connection. I am spending time with my godson, and that’s that. You bringing your man is one thing, but you can tell his friend to stay his ass home.” I stared at her wide eyed.

“Well, you gon be real mad at me. I told my man to bring him anyway.” She spoke softly.

“Cakes, what the fu-” I began to snap.

“Come on, Britt! I didn’t want my mans to drive all up here by himself-”

“Girl, quit babying that negro! His grown ass can drive!”

“You need a man! Give somebody else a chance!” She yelled.

“I don’t need shit.” I hissed. “And you know that.”

She chuckled. “Look, bih, he’s coming. I’ll warn him about your feisty ass. But he’s excited to meet you.”

“Bih, you are selfish. I just wanted to be with you and my godson for his birthday. Not be smothered by some loser.” I sipped on my wine cooler.

Cakes shook her head. “You’ll be alright. Just be nice. Play nicer.”

I cackled. “Girl, please. You owe me big time for this shit.”

I was not ready to be annoyed the whole night while some dude breathed down my neck the entire time. Some of my friends swore up and down that I needed a man oh so badly cause it had been a while. And I mean, I have been on my share of dates, as rarely as they did come. But the blind dates? Bruh, every single one I have been on has been a nightmare. The most memorable was when I went on a date with a dude and his baby momma showed up to the restaurant. Red Lobster at that.

But that’s for another time. *sips tea*

I went back to my apartment that evening and looked in my closet for something to wear to Disney. My godson was turning two, and I couldn’t wait to see the look on his face when he would open up his gift from me, which included toys and books, and how he would glow as he seen characters from Disney.

I decided to go with a pair of shorts, a tank, a loose fitting shirt with an open front, and my favorite silver sandals.

I enjoyed the rest of my Friday night, and even in the midst of car trouble, I was still determined to have a great weekend.

“Hey Cakes. Girl, my car won’t start. Can you pick me up today?”

“Yeah, girl, it’s no problem. I’m dropping the baby off back at my apartment where my parents are, and I’ll be over.”

“Okay, cool. Did your man only make it into town?” I asked, hoping she would say he came alone.

“…No, sis. He came with his friend. Just like I told you.” She snickered.

“I’m glad all of this is funny to you. I just want to have a good time with your people and my baby boy, and you straight tripping!” I whined.

“Oh, hush that shit up.” Cakes laughed. “You’ll be fine. His name is Tonio. Be nice.”

“Wait, you coming to get me alone, right?” I asked as I was putting the last of my MAC lipgloss on.

“See, what happened was-”

I nearly threw my lipgloss on the floor. “Damnit, Cakes! You ain’t give me no real time to even prepare myself for this bullshit!” I spat.

“You had all night! Stop being mean!” Cakes declared. “Damn, he seem aiight. So you gon be aiight. Be nice!”

“Girl, if you wasn’t a sister to me…” I growled. “How far are you before I walk the Green Mile?”

“Be there in 10. Be nice. Bye.” Click.

I sucked my teeth and began to woosah so I could get my mind right for whatever would be thrown my way. I wasn’t putting up with the BS this wonderful afternoon.

“We’re outside.” Cakes said into the receiver.

“Alright.” I clicked, and grabbed my red cross over purse and locked my bedroom door and front door. I breathed a couple of fresh breaths of positivity before opening the car door.

Her boyfriend was sitting in the passenger’s seat, which meant that Tonio was gonna have to sit in the back…with me.

I bit my cheek as I opened the right back door and slid in.

“Hey everyone.” I said politely as I closed the door.

“Britt, this is Jeff. Jeff, my sis Britt.” Cakes started the introductions. This was my first time meeting her boyfriend, too.

We mutually said what’s up to each other.

“Tonio, Britt. Brit, Tonio.” She said, staring at me from the rearview mirror.

“How are you?” Tonio said, grabbing my hand.

“Well. And yourself?” I placed my hand back on my thigh.

“I’m well.” He beamed.

This negro had on some dollar store Ray Charles sunglasses, a white tee which reeked of Black and Mild’s, some jean knickerbockers, and some Forces that were on its way to being beat up.

I rolled my eyes behind my sunglasses because this was gonna be a long damn day.

We arrived at Cakes’ apartment where her mom, dad, and grandma were with her son. I said hello and hugged everyone as Cakes made the baby bag.

Jeff and Tonio were chilling outside when Cakes told me to come hang out with them. I put on a fake smile and walked down the steps to the parking lot of her complex.

We walked up to Jeff’s car where they were sitting, and they were already having a drink. Damn, one o’clock in the afternoon?

“You want something to drink?” Jeff asked me.

“Nah, I’m cool.” I politely declined.

“I want some of that Ciroc that’s up there in the house. Aye, Cakes, go get me a cup!!” Tonio yelled.

“Are you crazy? She don’t look like Alice or Hazel!” I looked at him stupidly.

He chuckled. “Oh, now you talking. You wasn’t saying nothing in the car.”

“Yeah. I wasn’t saying nothing to you.” I corrected him. “Get your own damn liquor.”

“She going up there, she could get it from me.” He grinned, showing his half yellow teeth.

I looked at Jeff. Get your damn homeboy!

“She cool, fam. You got drink in your cup right there, homie.” Jeff told Tonio.

This guy is a bum! I said to myself.

“Let me check my mail. Come on, B.” Cakes walked off.

“These negros drinking and shit! We going to damn Disney! At least drink later on there.” I whispered.

Cakes rolled her eyes. “We going to the hotel to drop my grandma off, and we’ll be headed to the park.”

I think I rolled my eyes way more than someone should in an hour.

I chilled outside solo since Cakes was caked up. I smelled Black and Mild’s and knew that Tonio was near.

“You standing here all by yourself. Stop being mean and talk to me.” He tried to coo.

“I’m just chilling.” I replied, ignoring that last part of his statement.

“You just got your toes done? I like me some pretty ass toes on a female.” He grinned.

I could have thrown up. “Alright, yo, chill.” I shook my head.

“We taking that approach, huh?” He said softly, and decided to move closer to me. “Let me just chill with you by this tree you sitting under, then.”

“Nah, I was under the tree solo. There’s a tree right over there that you can do the same at.” I pointed.

He sucked his teeth. “You mean as hell.”

“Okay.” I said, not moving, scrolling on my phone.

His scent was killing me. He had liquor all on his breath, and I couldn’t get over how yellow his teeth were.

“Yo, Cakes, come get your girl! She all sassy and sadity and shit!” Tonio yelled.

I laughed. “Get out of here.” I meant exactly that.

“Nah, you too bougie for me. Won’t share your tree with me and shit.” He spat.

How mature.

“Let you tell it.” I said.

“But I like them sassy. Now stop playing and get over here.” He grinned, attempting to reach for my arm.

“Damn, yo! That approach didn’t work before, and it sure as hell ain’t gonna work now! Chill!” I told him.

Cakes started to walk over. “What’s going on?”

“Your girl, that’s what! Like she ain’t feeling a G!” Tonio exclaimed in his annoying hoarse voice.

“What G? Boy, please, you are tired!”

Cakes saw the annoyance in my look and my voice. She knew this wasn’t the move.

He was soon to get cussed out.

She knew I wasn’t tolerable of this mess!

Before I knew it, me, Cakes, and my godson were in route to the hotel Cakes’ parents and grandma would stay at.

Jeff and Tonio drove their car separately. Thank God.

When we arrived, I got out the car to stretch my legs and play with my godson from the backseat.

I smelled Black and Mild’s again, so I knew who was behind me.

“Damnit.” I growled.

“You ready to play nice now?” He asked, showing his yellow brick road of teeth.

“I wasn’t playing at all.” I said, turning back around to tickle my god son.

He sucked his teeth. “Still sassy. When you gon learn to be nice?”

“Stop playing yourself.” I said, shaking my head. Cakes came back to unstrap her son and bring him into the hotel to change him. I followed right behind her.

“Oh, you can’t stay outside and talk to me? Forget you, then!” Tonio asked.

Jeff started laughing. “You need to chill, yo.”

“He needs to go right back to Miami where your boyfriend got him from. He’s aggravating me.” I told Cakes.

“Damn, maybe this wasn’t a good idea.” Cakes shuttered.

“YOU THINK?” I exclaimed. “I TOLD YOU to never do no shit like this to me.” I shook my head.

“I was looking out, you be all single and shit. Thought you could use a companion.” Cakes shrugged.

“I’m gucci.” I said, holding up my index finger.

 

Never again!

Miraculously, Tonio didn’t “have his ticket” to get into Disney, and didn’t “want to come”.

FINE BY ME!

I don’t know where Jeff took him, and I could care less. The wanna be blunt was out my ass like a thong, and I was happy.

We enjoyed The Happiest Place on Earth, and my godson was happy.

This, my friends, is why I don’t do blind dates. It’s always something wrong with them.

If the vibe is off, it ain’t gon work. Tonio can run his weak game on somebody else, and he needs to find a female smoker while he’s at it.

Cakes told me a story not too long ago that her and Jeff had to go pick him up cause his car stopped on the road, and then they had to go get his girlfriend from work at Burger King.

I bet they hit the Black and Mild after that. LOL.

So, if you love me, don’t set me up. I just ain’t the one.

Hope you enjoyed, sweeties.

Till next time. 

The Art of Storytelling: Shirley, Almost Barbara

Happy Thursday, tea sippers!

I received great feedback from last week’s post, “You’re Dating WHO?”.  I’m glad that I was able to hit strong points when it comes to the topics of self-love, self-discovery, and independence. Shoutout to one of my loyal readers and my good friend, Tiffany, for her commentary, which included, “Yes! Can I be my own Mona Lisa? Please and thanks! I don’t want to be the lonely girl with the pearl earring.”

I told my sister to go ahead. Self-defined baby, you are what you declare you are!

And I would tell all my sisters and brothers the same thing. It all starts with you.

So, I’m excited about a little something something, and I am even more excited to share it with you all.

So as you can already tell, writing is truly my passion. I do this to share my experiences and to help the next person along the way.

Along with all the upcoming projects I currently have stored away in my brain, it’s time to release just one of them.

Within Tea, Bree, and Breathe, I have now created a small “component” to the blog entitled, “The Art of Storytelling”. This will include a series of short and real life experiences that I have been through (as usual), but will allow my readers to join in on the specific topic of that night’s blog post, where I encourage readers to chip in and speak their mind. I mean, experience is the best teacher, and who knows? Maybe your experience could help the next reader and so on. That, is one of the true arts, of storytelling.

If you are an avid reader of TBB, and have been too shy to speak your mind, I challenge you to join in on tonight’s conversation.

Without further ado, I present the first blog post under the new mini-series, “The Art of Storytelling: Shirley, Almost Barbara.”

Enjoy. 🙂

The Art of Storytelling: Shirley, Almost Barbara

Woman to Woman….

Yet again I came very close to producing such a juicier story for my readers, but this time, the story took a little twist.

Some of you may be proud of me for it; others may ask a series of questions.

As you all know, I am a woman.

A woman of many things.

One of those things includes confidence.

Because it is without confidence, that you do not have much to achieve.

We’ll call him Blue.

And with his name being Blue, it had nothing to do with him making me feel that way.

As you all know, I am a college senior who is graduating in May. With that being said, all the classes I am taking now are critical for an on-time graduation.

I happened to be in one of those core classes that I am taking for the semester, and quite frankly, as easy as it was to skip the class, I still came, often times, I would doze off for a little, right in the back of the room.

I had a couple of friends in this particular class with me, one especially being one of my great friends, Nae. Nae and I truly have a friendship like no other.

It wasn’t until a month and some change that I started to realize there were more than just a couple of my friends and a lot more strangers in my class.

There was also a fine ass stranger.

And I was just like Alicia Keys, he didn’t know my name. And I damn sure didn’t know his.

As a matter of fact, I wasn’t even sure if he talked. I guess he was just like me; came to class, did what he had to do, and dipped.

But I don’t know if it was the strength shown in his jawline, the thickness of his neck, the way his chest heaved as he breathed inward and outward, or the whiteness in his teeth that had me staring at him just a little more.

Damn, he’s been in my class the whole time? Guess I’ve been sleeping forreal.

I chose to just study his anatomy for the rest of the time in class. I didn’t know when I would pounce on opportunity, but I knew the time was a ticking.

“Nae.” I whispered and nudged her elbow.

Nae nodded. “What’s up?” She whispered back.

“Bruh, who is that dude over there? You’ve seen him before?”

She chuckled. “Nope. I haven’t. He is good looking though.”

“Shiiiiiiiiiiiit.” I emphasized my interest in the strange cutie who sat way across on the other side of the room.

“What you gon do?” Nae asked.

“Oh, you know me. Can’t let that go to waste, and probably don’t have the patience for him to approach me, either.”

Fuck it. What do I have to lose?

“When girl?” She stared at me bug eyed.

I chuckled. “Probably next class. Give him some time to get ready.” I smirked, while popping my collar.

As the professor dismissed class, I watched him get up and walk his fine ass out the opposite exit in the classroom. I nodded my head in approval. Physically, baby had it going on. But I knew all too well that looks were not everything. Yet, I was intrigued to learn more.

My plan to speak to the Sexy Stranger was in full motion. Next week, it would go down.

I came to class that next week, prepared for class, and prepared to slide in Sexy Stanger’s DM’s… well, slide to his face, at least.

I paid attention in class, taking minimal notes because we happened to discuss a topic that I was well equipped and knowledgeable on. We had a midterm coming up in two weeks, so things were a bit critical.

All the while, every now and then, I would be paying attention to Sexy Stranger too.

A couple of times he caught me slipping in the act, but I didn’t care. If he was smart, he would know what would be coming next. If he was smarter, he would beat me to it.

But he wasn’t that smart.

I waited till the professor officially dismissed class and walked right over to the opposite side of the class room where Sexy Stranger was packing up his things.

It’s go time.

Honestly, even up close, I never saw him before. Ever. You know how sometimes you see people walking on campus and then eventually you end up having a class with them? It wasn’t like that this time. I was convinced that Sexy Stranger had to be a transfer or something.

I decided to start there.

“Hey, are you new around here? I haven’t seen you around before.” I started smoothly, honestly asking a legit question. If that’s corny, then you just wait until you hear the rest.

He smirked. “Ehh, not really. Well, something like that.”

“Well, which one is it?” I chuckled.

“I transferred.” He gave in.

“Oh, from where?”

“FIU.”

I smirked. I wondered if he was from Miami.

“The midterm is coming up soon. Me and my girl might get together and study for it.”

“Oh yeah? Let me get in on that, because I don’t really have a tight grip on what the hell this exam will cover.” He shook his head.

“You and I both.” I chuckled softly. “We’ll thug it out.”

“I’m headed this way. Let’s walk and talk.” He suggested, putting his book bag on his back.

Gladly, I said in my mind.

“So, I think we should exchange numbers.” He began when we walked out the classroom.

“Agreed.” I nodded, pulling out my iPhone.

And what a smooth exchange it was.

We stepped into the sunshine that campus harbored as we continued to talk. I had to be back to work at 3:00PM, so I had about 15 minutes to spare.

Turns out Blue wasn’t from Miami. His fine ass hailed from St. Louis, and his family moved to Orlando some time ago.

His muscles were just too damn big for no reason so I had to ask, “Do you play football?” I hoped that his answer was a hell no. Been there and did that, honey.

“Naw. I’m just big for no reason.” He laughed.

Shhiiiiiiiiiit, I exclaimed in my mind. I ain’t complaining, playa.

“What’s your major?” I quizzed.

“I’m double majoring in Health Services Administration and Biology. I graduate in May, and I think I might take a slight break before grad school.” He laid it out.

I nodded my head in approval. “Now that’s what’s really good. I graduate in May as well. Nursing school is next.”

“That’s what’s up! You thinking about staying here in Orlando?”

I shook my head in disapproval. “Nah. I’m ready to go back to Miami. Now that is home for me.”

He laughed and shook his head. “You Miami folks are crazy, and you all love yallself some Miami.”

“You’re right!” I agreed. “I’m pretty sure you feel the same way about St. Louis.”

“Yeah, I do. I love the Lou. But yall Miami folks are on another level with it!”

We continued to walk and talk, realizing that it was close to the time I should have been clocking back into work.

“Where are you headed?” I asked.

“To my next class. It starts at 3:00PM.” He glanced at his watch. “And look at that, you are about to make me late.” He nudged me.

“Na uh!” I started. “I mean, you had a part in this too.” I smiled.

“You got me out here sweating, making me walk the long way to my class, and I’m gonna be late. You’re already trouble for me.” He smirked directly at me.

Did he just flirt with me? I was always bad with this type of thing.

“Where do you work?” He asked.

“Right here, at the Health Center.” I pointed in the direction of the building. “And there’s your building where your class is at.”

“Hmm, I guess this was a short cut after all.” He laughed.

“Yeah, and you thought I was tryna fry you in the sun.” I snickered.

“Yeah, I did.” He exhaled. “Well, I’m gonna head to class. Since I know where you work, I know I can get some treatment from you when I’m sick.” He looked down at me.

Okay, I think that was a flirt….I thought to myself.

“Okay, bet. I have the remedy.” I cheesed.

“I might stop by after class. But I’ll text you.”

“Sounds good. Later.” I waved, turning my back to walk back to my job. I knew I was being stared at, but didn’t look back for the fear that I would trip over my own shoes when I would turn back around to face forward. I was clumsy like that.

The confidence came in the clutch, baby.

I bounced back to work, texting Nae the details that I snagged him just a bit. Not completely, but enough to where I have at least one foot in the door.

We texted throughout the day… not as fast as I would like, but hell, at least I got a reply. I’m stuck in the world where texting back is taboo.

A few days had went by, and no word from Blue.  Ain’t sweat it too bad, things like this were too familiar to a girl like me.

I started to count things as a lost, until I received a text from Blue.

And it read:

“Hi Brittany, this is Blue’s girlfriend. He’s been extremely sick for the last two days with strep and a pretty bad sinus infection. The antibiotics the doctor prescribed has made him very tired, but I will let him know about the midterm that you have mentioned.”

Shirley? Is that you?

Hey, Shirley? Is that you again?

Hello, Barbara? Barbara, this is Shirley…

 

You’ve got to be kidding me.

Q’s wife was enough. But this time, this time… it was more comical.

I would not be Barbara.

I would not allow her to be Shirley.

I didn’t even send a reply.

I didn’t really need to.

Why?

Blue is obviously “accounted for”. I doubt that the text was something made up.

Did this girlfriend happen to go through his phone and view the other things we texted? It’s funny how she only mentioned the “midterm” I weakly brought up the first day we met.

If she was smart, she would have known that this was deeper than a midterm.

Or maybe she was smart, by thinking that she could subtly check me. Or she thought she could issue out a subtle forewarning to me.

That’s cute.

And why the hell was she going through his phone in the first place? Is it just me who refuses to get down with that movement? What happened to trust? Cause baby, if I’m with you and I have to do all of that, then I don’t need to be with you.

Or was Blue okay with her drafting up the text to send to me since he was soooo damn sick?

Either the way, the situation was nothing but funny to me. Never have I ever sent a text out to another woman for my man because he was sick.

I wasn’t Mary. I wasn’t his secretary.

LOL.

In tonight’s, “The Art of Storytelling”, I have completed the first step in telling my story. Here is the discussion that I encourage my readers to have, with me serving as an additional commentator and moderator.

Tonight’s questions include:

1. Ladies, would you or do you approach men? Fellas, do you like when women approach you? Why or why not?
2. Did you think Blue was innocent or guilty in this situation?
3. What is your stance on going through your significant other’s phone? Do you “give them permission” to do so?
4. If you have a similar experience on the topic, feel free to let other’s sip your tea. What went down?

I hope you all enjoyed tonight’s post as pure entertainment, and that you dig into the discussion.

I am an advocate for learning knowledge from others who are knowledgeable!

Once again, welcome the mini-series, “The Art of Storytelling”! With your support, it will stay around!

Stay tuned for the next post within the series, because they will come randomly throughout the year. 🙂

See you all next week! It’s Homecoming this week, and so far, I went to Comedy Knight (for my non-UCF readers, this is how we spell “night” since we are UCF Knights) starring Damon Wayans, Jr. TOO FUNNY! This weekend should be memorable, since this is my last Homecoming!

Sip slow, lovelies.

You’re Dating WHO?

Welcome back, tea sippers and cookie dippers.

Last week’s tea had some of you all in astonishment! I mean, really, who would ever think that they would have dinner with the other one?

As an update (since inquiring minds want to know), I haven’t heard or seen from Deuce or Trina since. Just hoping that Deuce’s child is taken care of.

As a second update, if you read, “One Minute Man”, from a couple of weeks back, guess who I ran into?

And when I tell you C had the poorest excuse, trying to persuade me that he fell off because he got two jobs and he didn’t want to “hit me up because I thought you would have started flexing on me and would have did me dirty.”

His words, not mine.

Bruh, you are washed up and tired! Puh-lease.

Within the kooky chapters in my life, there is always a calm right before another storm.

Ladies and gents, I want you all to see and realize that sometimes it’s okay not to want to date. Not to want to be bothered with having a partner.

It’s okay to branch out. It’s okay to have space.

It’s okay when people ask “You’re dating who?”, and you look to them and say, “Myself.”

Let’s dig deeper. There’s a two cup minimum for tonight’s flavor of tea.

You’re Dating WHO?

“I remember…The way… You used… To love… Me….” I began to sing loudly in my car as one of my favorite songs put on this Earth and one of the best songs my ears and heart has ever heard blared from my stereo system.

Faith Evans was a beast at what she does.

At the moment, I wasn’t feeling heartbroken. I wasn’t feeling angry, or bitter, or even lonely.

I had gotten dressed up and put on my favorite scent and it wasn’t for anyone in particular.

I didn’t have to make sure that my curves were popping, and that my edges were sleeked back for safety.

I didn’t have to trip if a little polish on my toes chipped.

Why you may ask?

Cause damnit, I was going on a date.

By my damn self.

I didn’t have to double and triple check me or how I could have been perceived because that evening, I was talking my fine ass out.

Yes. Me.

I always certainly get weird looks if couples see me at a booth dining alone.

But secretly, I love it.

My favorite spot to go to solo dolo is to Red Lobster. Bonefish Grill is another. Even Logan’s Roadhouse.

And I can’t forget Lazy Moon. That’s a pizza spot right up the street from my house. It’s funny because one evening I was on a date with myself, grubbing on a good slice of pizza, and let’s just say a male I was entertaining at the time decided to pop up on me.

Was I mad? No. A little creeped out? Just a tad.

I also get the awkward stares every time I tell a server, “Just for one.” But I live for it.

Even some of my friends don’t understand what it means to have “Me Time”.

Why does everyone feel as though you have to do something with somebody at every time of the day?

Learn how to do things by your damn self.

This, ladies and gents, is a step into how to date yourself.

This is especially hopeful for anyone who has been out of a relationship for a short while and wants to date again.

Not so fast.

Have you given your mind and heart some time off?

Have you given yourself enough time to evaluate what happened in your last relationship?

Have you considered that maybe it is time for a growing process after you have healed?

I don’t condone jumping from man to man. To me, it’s not healthy. You’re just taking old shit from Terry and bring that shit to Jerry.

I used to be a Bag Lady. This, ladies, is not the way.

As you all may know, Twan was my last relationship.

You also know that Twan is deceased.

Honestly, I used to feel guilty to want to date again months after Twan’s death. I thought his ass would come and haunt me and ruin whatever relationship I got into next.

It wasn’t until he came into my dream maybe two months after his death, and he lead me to another man.

Literally.

In the dream, I was at a party, and there was this dude that was feeling me. I mean, buddy was sweating me more than my own body was sweating me.

But I didn’t give him the time of day.

The next evening, I was with a couple of my friends, and for some reason, everyone was parking lot pimping. It was nothing but cars, stereo systems booming, men, women, and drinks all on the hoods and roofs of people’s whips.

Twan came up to the passenger door of the car I was sitting in and spotted me in the passenger seat.

I was startled, to say the least, especially when he opened the unlocked car door.

While questioning him the whole time, he gently grabbed my hand and led me to an unfamiliar car.

“What is this?” I asked him loudly.

He then opened the passenger door to the car we stood in front of and the same guy from the previous night at the party was there, smiling at me.

I turned and looked at Twan with a confused look.

He smiled and squeezed my hand and walked away.

And it was then, I knew it was okay.

Okay to move on.

Sure, I longed to be loved, and I wanted to start over, and I wanted to be a woman to someone, but if I wanted to do it right, I knew it would take some time.

I had to do me for a change.

So many relationships I had been in, and I wasn’t putting me first. I made sure my man was tight and if I was just cool, then I would just be that.

Mistake #1.

So many times I thought that if I provided all that I could to a man, he would never leave me.

Mistake #2.

Should I go on? Cause baby, I could keep you here all night.

The point is, with all these mistakes I made and many lessons I could literally write a book on *hint hint*, it was time for me to apply it into the new woman I wanted to be.

And when I would find that right man, everything would be right, because I took out the time to get to know me.

Why walk into something that could be so sweet but you still have the sour in you? Why meet the ultimate man of your dreams when you’re heart isn’t ready to love him like he should be?

You know, there are many women who walk into a relationship with no sense of who they are, and believe that their man should be the one to build them and mold them into the woman they think she should be.

And those same women walk out of those same relationships with the same thing she came with- shit.

Why can’t you be a self-defining woman? Why must you build yourself up completely with a man and only a man?

Ladies, why can’t you be self-made in a sense? Why must you rely on a man to make you?

You be the woman you want to be!

All of this can be achieved by doing one thing- taking the time to get to know yourself, loving to love yourself, and learning how to date yourself.

I get so many questions on how did I learn to be so strong despite life’s constant jabs.

I could give you one answer, or I could give you one hundred solutions.

But I built myself back up every time a man made me fall. Sometimes, I was the one to blame for my initial fall.

But I couldn’t have done anything without helping myself first. Repairing the wounds that someone did to me or that I did to myself.

You can only do that by reevaluating yourself.

And this is to be done when you are alone. That words scares most, but it takes a drive in me. To know that I can do so much alone, is driving to me.

The fact that I want to love again, is only because I loved myself fifty times harder when I was alone.

Get your nails done by yourself.

Have dinner by yourself.

Sit by the lake and journal by yourself.

Go shopping by yourself.

Take a long drive by yourself.

Go to the movies by yourself.

Take a yoga class by yourself.

Take a trip to the beach by yourself.

It is truly the simplest things you can do by yourself where you can begin and continue to learn more things about yourself.

It’s not crazy. It’s not stupid. It’s not silly.

Damn it, it’s self-fulfilling. It’s enriching. It’s knowledge, my G.

Get to know you, by yourself.

Love you, by yourself.

Because when you come to a point where I’m at, where I know myself, love myself beyond words, knowing what I can bring to the table, knowing my strengths and weakness, and knowing what I deserve… You’ll be ready for your perfect partner, too.

Only if you date yourself, first.

How the hell can you date a stranger and you’re a stranger to yourself?

Who knows you best? (Besides your momma, if that?)

YOU.

If you don’t love you, Marcus can’t love you. If you don’t know you, Marcus could never get the idea or the satisfaction of saying that he knows you.

Sometimes, you have to be a mess by yourself. Go ahead, be a hot damn mess alone.

And then work through it.

Write down what you learned throughout that process.

Apply it to being the woman or man you want to be.

Apply it to the next relationship you know you deserve to be in.

Everything in life happens for a reason. Everything can be served and used as a lesson.

How long have I been dating myself?

Hmm, about four years now.

Am I tired of it? At times, because I know I’m ready for the next step.

Has it come yet? I’ll ask God to make sure if it has.

Sure, I thought I had the opportunity to explore dating with a guy we’ll call Yella. He lived out of the state and hadn’t confessed his feeling for me until after he graduated college. I used to have a thing for Yella, but he played too many games with me.

Now that he’s on his own, well into his career, his actions showed that he wanted to explore me again.

He liked the idea of me, but couldn’t handle me.

Inconsistency was just a small portion; immaturity would be the dead giveaway for the reason to blame.

But that’s okay, cause I love myself anyway.

Sure, I thought I had the opportunity to explore dating someone who was a little on the famous side. Things are all good when you are in the same city, but with all the flights, the shows, the different time zones, the pressure to rise to the top with the fame you already got… Who was really to blame?

Late responses to texts and constant missed calls, voicemails unopened, maybe listened to half a dozen.. Trying to talk about your day and all he wanted to discuss was his money.. Discussions on his dreams but was sleep when it came to mine.. Constant “I’m sorry’s” and “I’mma hit you back”… Shit just wasn’t enough.

But that’s okay, cause I love myself anyway.

Be the best woman and the best man you can be on your own.

Make your insides beautiful and soulful inside and out before wanting a partner to share it with.

Be that Picasso you want sitting on your own wall in your house, before trying to sit on someone else’s wall.

It’s okay to do you. For an extended amount of time.

Get you and your shit right and tight, for the next time love might be introduced in your life.

And when things don’t work out, it’s cool.

Because you still have the precious contents in you.

And no one can take that away from you, unless you allow them to.

So the next time, you’re out with your girlfriends or if you are about to hit the bar with your boys, and they ask you, “So, who are you dating anyway?”

You point to yourself, and indubitably, they’ll point and say “You??”

And you’ll respond, “Yes, doggone it. Me.”

 

I think it’s safe to say that posting every Thursday might be my new thing, since that’s really when I have been posting lately.

Got some great things coming up soon, and one of them, will need the support of my lovely and loyal readers of TBB. Stay tuned!

Next week is Homecoming, baby! But, I won’t leave you all hanging.

See you next week, babies.  

Is She The Reason?

Welcome back, tea sippers.

Hope you didn’t miss me too much! 🙂

I received a lot of feedback from the two part tea, “’12 Bonnie & Clyde”. Truthfully, I revealed a very vulnerable and intimate part of my life to provide an eye opener for my readers.

I was often asked if it was hard for me to write my piece. And my answer is no, not until I had to explain his murder. To those who are wondering, this November will make it three years since his passing, and his murderer has never been caught.

Tonight’s tea is sure to serve as entertainment to your exciting eyes and wandering minds.

Ladies, have you ever been in a situation where you are involved with a man, and things don’t work out for an amount of reasons, but you can’t help but wonder if there was somebody else in the picture he just wasn’t telling you about?

Don’t burn your tongue on this one.

Is She The Reason?

I thought that this was something (yes)

Promising that one day would turn into something (yes)

Thought the feelings were mutual, didn’t have to guess

Started being skeptical, always unavailable

Like you didn’t know

But now I’m feeling something

That’s telling me this may not be the real something

But you was showing me, now I’m ready and you running…

 

I carefully examined myself in the mirror before slipping on my clear sandals and grabbing my MAC lip gloss to apply some juiciness and moisture to my lips.

Tonight was my great friend Mila’s birthday, and of course we were going to go out, eat some good food, and have a great time with my dawg.

I quickly grabbed my keys and swung my Louis Vuitton bag over my shoulder as I walked over to my whip to head over to the restaurant that we would be dining at.

I placed my iPod on shuffle and one of my jams came on, “Is She The Reason” by Destiny’s Child.

“Oh, this is my shit!” I exclaimed while bobbing my head to the beat, getting ready to lay it down when the vocals were introduced.

I started to sing the very first verse of the song before hitting the bridge, but I couldn’t get my mouth to sing to the chorus.

It had hit me.

Let me explain.

It wasn’t till a few weeks earlier that my friend Mila texted me one Monday evening while I was driving back from Miami to Orlando.

The content of the message had me bent.

“Quick question: If you don’t mind me asking, the guy you used to talk to who recently had a child, what’s his name?”

I couldn’t help but have a crazy expression illustrated on my face from what Mila had texted me.

See, when it’s matters like this, I don’t text you back.

Imma call ya ass.

I dialed Mila’s number with a quickness to see what was up.

Because she was definitely talking about someone who used to be my dude.

Deuce.

 

“Hey girl, what’s up?” She answered.

“Hey Mila. I was on the road when you texted me.” I replied.

“Yeah, I figured. I knew you would be driving back from Miami today.”

“Yeah. Now, uh, the text you sent me… Who wants to know?”

I kept my relationship with Deuce in a private manner. Only a selected few knew about us, and I mean just that: a selected few.

“So you know Sierra’s friend is our new roommate, right?”

“Yeah, aren’t they like best friends or something?” I questioned.

“Yeah. So me and her bestie, whose name is Trina, was talking not too long ago in the living room. You know, about life and stuff.”

I held the phone tighter. ”Okay.”

“She started to describe her situation that she had with this dude, and dawg, it sounded familiar…Like it was similar to what you told me too.”

“What did she tell you?” I snapped slightly.

“Well, mainly that they were talking for a while-“

“When?” I cut her off.

“Last year.”

I exhaled quickly. I didn’t know Deuce last year, so it was cool. “Aiight.” I replied coolly.

“But they stopped talking because he got someone pregnant.”

“Mmm hmm.” I continued to wait for the gut punching conclusion.

“Is that your old boo?” She quizzed.

“Yeah, it sure is. That’s Deuce.” I said, flatly.

“See, I knew it…” She started to talk, and drifted off.

“So, what, she wanted to know who I was?” I asked intrigued.

“Yeah, because I told her that her story seemed too familiar.”

“Humph.” I rolled my eyes. “They still talk or something?”

“Naw, they basically stopped talking since he told her about the baby.”

“I see.” I replied quietly, only because my mind was running a mile a minute.

I wrapped up my convo with Mila and ended the call immediately after.

Trina, I kept saying to myself.

 Trina, Trina, Trina.

I had now realized that Trina was going to be at this dinner for Mila’s birthday.

And I didn’t know how to feel about it.

I didn’t have any instant pressure with Trina, because clearly, they had their thing before he even knew me and way before we even met. So I said to myself, it’s cool, it’s straight.

This shit will be nothing.

Until I pulled up at that damn restaurant.

I rolled my eyes at the fact that I would kind of have a constant reminder of Deuce because his “ex fling” was here too.

I mean, what are the odds? I was starting to think that only shit like this happened to me.

I was the first one to arrive at the dinner party, so I made sure that the reservation was all set for Mila to arrive.

What I thought would be a dinner party of about 15, rapidly became a party of 6.

Well damn. I thought I could have been on the other side of the table and not be bothered by the girl.

Now that the dinner would be all intimate and shit, she had to be right up in my presence and very close in my vicinity.

I was soon joined by my great friend Ray, and we were both happy to see Mila rocking a nice navy blue dress that hugged her curves, her hair and makeup was popping, and her shoes complimented her whole fit.

“Happy Birthday, dawg!” I exclaimed while hugging her. “You look bomb!”

“Ooh, thanks chile!” She replied with a beam.

Since half of the dinner party was here, we were able to be seated. We were lead to a dim lit area where the booth curved around for everyone to be seated right next to each other.

“Great.” I mumbled underneath my breath. As long as I don’t have to have physical contact with Miss Trina, things would be fine.

I mean, shit, I don’t want to be under the same roof with a chick that was deeply associated with my dude. I had no intentions on being friends with her. It’s just weird.

I was extremely hungry, and I really just wanted to have a good time and eat.

“Who did your makeup?” I asked Mila, after we sat down.

“Trina.” She said, looking directly at me.

“Ahh, I see. She did a great job.” I responded, honestly.

“Did you tell Ray about the connection I made?” Mila asked me.

“What happened?” Ray asked.

I sucked my teeth. “Mila, I’ll let you explain it.”

I listened to the story yet again about how Trina was involved with Deuce, broke it off because he then had a baby on the way, and then how him & I connected, and ended, tragically.

“Tuh!” Ray responded in surprise. “And she’s coming tonight, isn’t she?”

“Of course.” I said flatly, sipping on my lemon water.

I then began to go into slight details about Deuce & I and about our split, when Mila interrupted me.

“Yeah. She knows about that.”

“Knows about what?” I asked, sternly.

“About the first argument you guys had about his child’s mother. And she knows about the issues you had with her. And she knows about the time his baby moms was bugging because he wanted to go back home to visit his family.”

“Nah, hold up. All of that happened while he was with me though.” I stated with raised eyebrows.

There was then a slight pause.

“Oh, so them muthafuckas still must be talking then?” I said loudly. Mila didn’t curse, and usually I wouldn’t curse around her, but I couldn’t help it that time.

“I think they are just friends though. I’m not sure if they talk romantically again.” Mila tried to reassure me.

I nodded my head slowly. “Bet.”

 

Is she the reason you don’t call like you use to?

Fall through my hood like you use to?

Or put it on me hard like you use to do?

I feel in my mind what’s going on

But my heart won’t let me go until I know

Is she the reason that my calls couldn’t reach you?

The deepest of my love couldn’t please you?

Or bring it to me home like you use to do?

Seeing her falling for your charms

Got me feeling like I wasn’t good enough

I couldn’t help but wonder.

Maybe it was her who he longed for more than he longed for me.

I held it down on the outside, but in the inside, my mind was running a mile a minute. I started to feel my blood boil because I didn’t want to see this chick who knew the ins and outs of my business with Deuce.

She probably had the best and the last laugh.

But it was all good.

I couldn’t get too much into my thoughts because it was then, Sierra and Trina arrived, along with another friend of Sierra’s, almost an hour late to the dinner.

Ray, Mila, & I had already put in our orders because it was getting late and we were hungry.

“Hey yall!” Sierra welcomed everyone.

I chuckled. “Hey, Sierra. Good to see ya.”

“Okay, everyone, this is Trina. Trina, this is Ray and Bree.”

“Oh, yeah, I know Ray.” Trina giggled.

I looked up from my phone when I realized I still didn’t say anything.

Luckily the same time I was gonna say hello, Ray started talking, so it was all good with me.

If you know me, you know that I am barely quiet, unless I’m in deep thought, angry, or if I don’t know you too too well.

This type of quiet was different though.

You see, I’m a vibe person. And the more and more and more and more this chick ran her mouth, the more and more and more and more I grew annoyed. The vibe was fucked up and OFF.

I growled lowly because my food still wasn’t here yet. Unless that would serve as my distraction from being a part of this dumbass conversation she was trying to hold with the table.

You would think that tonight, it would be all about Mila, since it was her birthday. But this chick really made it all about her, and brought all the limelight to herself.

I cannot stand females like that.

You all are probably wondering that I just had all these feelings inside because she is still somehow involved with Deuce.

You would be partially correct.

But it’s another thing to just be obnoxious the whole night.

Now, I’m really not going to tolerate you.

My eyes lit up as I saw my food coming straight to me and off of the server’s tray. I said a quick prayer and dove into the juicy goodness of my meal.

Between eating, I would talk to Mila, who was next to me, texting Ray, who was also  on the opposite side of me, and texting my friend Melanie, because I knew she wouldn’t believe that I was having dinner with a chick of Deuce’s.

The whole night I had to hear about dumb shit. How dumb she thought certain topics were, how she didn’t know the difference between sleep apnea and insomnia, how she thought her food was disgusting, and constant inside jokes that Mila wasn’t even included in.

Ray is one of the most rationale people I know. And sometimes she has to check me when I would get out of pocket.

She sensed the annoyance that was seeping through my pores and shot me a quick text, telling me to not be petty.

I wasn’t on the verge of being petty, but I was on the verge of telling Trina to shove her food down her throat and choke on it, respectively.

I was able to get through the night, and my meal. I was just waiting to take a couple of pictures with Mila, and I would be on my merry freaking way.

Ray & I waited patiently as Trina wanted to play Hollywood Superstar with Mila like we ain’t have to go to work in the morning.

I rolled my eyes as she finally sat her ass down and cackled with Sierra, while Ray took some photos of Mila & I, and I did the same for Mila & Ray.

Of course Mila had been drinking, so after what took forever for Trina to consider, she decided to drive Mila home in Mila’s car, since they were also roommates. I walked behind with Mila as Trina walked ahead to Mila’s whip.

“Thank you so much for coming out.” She smiled warmly. “I really appreciate it.”

“You know I got you, dawg.” I hugged her. “Did you have a good birthday?”

She nodded. “Yes. And those drinks made it even better.”

I chuckled. “I’m glad. Get home safely. We’ll link up soon.”

I walked to my car, cranked up my whip, and put on “Hood Politics” by Young Jeezy that had my bass thumping as I sped off & out the parking lot.

What a freaked up night.

Never in a million years would I have thought that I would have dinner with the other woman.

She knew not to say the bare minimum to me, and there was nothing that needed to be said to her.

There was nothing to talk about.

As long as I enjoyed all $20.00 of my food, ya girl was great.

I couldn’t help to think that that negro Deuce had to be pillow talking and telling this other chick about what was once our business.

I guess that shit is public information now since all bets were off.

 

All you had to say was this ain’t what you want

I wouldn’t be so hurt and I could just move on

You had me believing everything was my fault

But I can see it now

It’s a situation that I must let go

Cause you ain’t gonna be a man and let me know

I guess me seeing you with her tells it all….

If I’m ever oh so fortunate to see them together.

Gag.

Best of wishes.

————————————————————————————————————————-

I couldn’t make this up if I wanted to, yall. LOL, I promise you God puts me in the craziest predicaments, just to share them and to let people know that this shit really does happen in real life!

I’m sure some of you wanted this story to go a different way, but sometimes in life, you have to know your place, and better yet, where you want to go in life. Neither of them ain’t bout it, and ain’t worth it.

That night it wasn’t funny, but now I can chuckle about it.

It’s a small world after all! Take it from me. 🙂

Until next week.

Bree’s Personal Tea: ’12 Bonnie & Clyde [Part 2]

WARNING: Part Two is lengthy. I should have broken it down into three parts, but I knew you all wouldn’t have liked that too much. Grab three tea cups and a handkerchief.

Let’s jump back into it.

’12 Bonnie & Clyde: Part 2

I spent the rest of my weekend sulking.

After the incident, I locked myself in my car, crying and wheezing with agony, while I fumbled with my phone.

I dialed Ms. Les’s number. I felt like she would know what to say to calm me down. After all, our relationship did become greater ever since I stopped by the house.

“Hey, Britt.” She answered the phone warmly.

I sniffled a couple of times before I could gather my words to speak.  “Hey, Ms. Les.”

“Uh uh. What’s wrong? Talked to Twan today?”

I wiped my tears repeatedly with my right hand. “Unfortunately.”

“What does that mean? Why are you crying, baby girl?”

I took a deep breath to calm my nerves before I explained to her the unfortunate chain of events that lead to our demise. I wasn’t his Bonnie anymore. He didn’t need me to ride for him, because he thought I was riding someone else. My heart broke over and over again as I ran the whole evening through my head, trying to figure out what could I have done to keep my man cool, calm, and most of all, concealed with me.

“Girl, it’s gonna be alright. All the boy does is talk about you.” Ms. Les replied, trying to soothe my sorrows.

“Ms.Les, I think it’s really over. I freaked it all up and-“

“Stop crying. You didn’t freak nothing up. He’s crazy about you so of course he was going to react. I know my son. He wants you, and that’s it. Period.” She stated sternly.

I quickly got my act together and tried to look at things on the bright side.

But nothing could honestly cheer me up until him and I speak again.

Would he ever call? Would he ever let his anger go? Would we make it as a couple?

But I had to grow up quick.

I have to hold my own shit.

 

I was 18 and doing the damn thing.

“Bye Momma, I love you.” I kissed my momma on the cheek before boarding the bus that would take me back to Orlando. Spring semester of my Freshman year would be starting in the morning, so I needed to get my mind right ASAP.

I sat in the window seat towards the front of the bus, wondering if I would hear from Twan. The rest of my weekend was sour, and I tried my best to disguise my sadness from my family.

I closed my eyes, attempting to shut myself off from my reality, and stuck my headphones into both ears, pulling up some Jay-Z to drown things out with.

My phone buzzed against my thigh, abruptly interrupting my musical session.

It was Twan.

I prayed that my phone would cooperate and let me answer the call. As soon as I got it to answer, I quickly pressed one so I could be connected to the call. I was anxious to hear from my baby, and I wanted to utilize the precious ten minutes we had in the right way.

“Twan, let me explain the other night.” I said quickly. I bit my lip hard because I honestly did not know what to expect from him or this conversation.

“Naw, let me go. You know, I do a lot of thinking in this hell hole. You understand why I was angry, right?”

“Yes, I can see why from your point of view.” I bit the inside of my cheek because my nerves would not stay into place.

“But I was wrong for calling you out of your name. For calling you dumb. And I apologize for that.”

I sighed. “And I’m sorry for the way shit went down. You gotta understand that I meant what I said that night. I said I was gonna ride, and I said I was gonna hold it down. You have to believe what I’m telling you. I know you’re trust is all fucked up, but Twan, I ain’t doing this for the hell of it.”

“I know, baby. I was so upset until I had time to actually think about the whole situation.”

“Yeah, I bet.” I rubbed my forehead. “I even called your momma…”

He chuckled. “She told me. Your actions keep proving things to me, lil mama. I like it.”

I scoffed. “You don’t have a choice.” I smiled. “Let’s not go through this no more, aiight?”

“It’s done, boo. Let’s keep pushing.”

We wrapped our phone conversations with everything filled with hugs and kisses and we were back on track.

I had my man back.

Funny how a dude locked up could have so much effect on your life on the outside.

 

I was 18 and doing the damn thing.

Spring semester began with a bang, for reasons that you could tell.

It wouldn’t be long before I had to return to Miami. I was in my cousin Faith’s wedding.

And that was the same weekend he was released.

“Girl, I gotta GO!” I snatched my suitcase out of my dorm as my roommate Khay watched me, showing all 32 teeth.

“Girl, have fun in your cousin’s wedding. But have more fun with ya man.” Khay smirked.

“Girl, stop!” I shook my index fingers from side to side. “I’m just excited to see him.” I beamed.

“Girl, I know it. I see how you light up every time he calls you. Now get going before you miss the damn bus.” Khay instructed.

I got the rest of my things and headed to the area on campus where the bus would come get us college kids who were riding down South for the weekend.

This was going to be good.

I jumped into my whip (my momma didn’t allow me to take my car with me during my Freshman year) and sped off to Twan’s house. He had just got out the other night, and nothing was stopping me from seeing my main squeeze and my only lover.

I damn near slammed my hand into the door, trying to get myself and my purse out the car before running onto Twan’s porch.

He met me at the door and my big ol butt hopped right into his arms. Now, Twan wasn’t the biggest dude, but his ass must have been working out to carry all this thickness on me.

I kissed him for what seemed like an eternity, until I realized that we were hooting and hollering all in front of his mom.

“Hey, Britt. Nice to see you’re back in town.” She chuckled.

“I’m sorry, Ms.Les. I thought you were in the room.” I covered my face.

“Child, please.” She said swaying me off. “Yall get in here.”

“Hi, sugar.” I whispered to him as we held hands walking into the house.

“Baby cakesssss.” He turned around and gave me yet another bear hug. It felt good to be in my dude’s arms again. It felt good to feel nothing but love in the room. It felt good not to be cussing, fussing, and being angry. It felt good to be mellowed out from that good love you were feeling, and that greater love you were receiving.

It was good.

We were good.

For now.

My cousin Faith’s wedding was tight! I was probably the crunkest bridesmaid there. I was able to see him one more time after the reception, because I would be leaving for Orlando the next day.

We got into another argument that night, surprisingly. I guess the love I was spewing wasn’t enough to last us one weekend.

Ladies, you know how you run and tell your girlfriends about every argument you have with your dude?

Well, shit, let’s just say some of my closest girlfriends had enough.

“If you’re so unhappy now, Britt, you need to leave him.”

“That’s preposterous.” I would say and always shrug it off.

 

“What couple doesn’t argue?” I would always say to myself.

Until things got unhealthy.

I fought and fought with Twan until we couldn’t fight anymore.

Back in Miami, he told me that he had to go to court the next week.

He then told me that there was a possibility that he could get locked up if things didn’t go well.

“Damn, I gotta go through this shit again?”

And here I was, almost two weeks later, doing it all over again.

 

 I was 18 and doing the damn thing.

I was Bonnie again.

Going through it this time around was rough. It was the beginning of a new semester, I just got my first work study job, balancing 5 classes, and then balancing my social and personal life.

I continued to hold Twan down cause at that point, that’s all I knew how to do.

That’s all I needed to do.

It’s what I had to do.

But in the process of doing it, I had a heap of drama follow me.

My good friend who I referred to as my diary, Cookie, called me up one evening because she was concerned about me. The conversation got ugly because she urged me that I was changing, that this relationship with Twan was toxic, and that I was “fighting for someone who didn’t give a fuck about me”.

Our friendship was soon on the line when I seen that I no longer had her support. We switched our conversation from the phone to ooVoo, and I seen that she was almost in tears. Cookie tried to plead that I could do better, and that I should not put my life on hold for him.

I was pretty sure that I lost Cookie that night as a friend, because I was going to hold my man down.

And Cookie wasn’t the only one who picked a fight about Twan and I. My best friend at the time, Breezy, told me the same thing. See, me, Cookie, and Breezy rolled together way back since high school. We all split up, but we remained tight.

I can’t lie, not having their support in my relationship made me tight. But I had other friends who had my back, who wiped my tears, and consoled me when the days and nights got rough.

But I knew what I wanted to do.

I was gonna keep riding for Twan.

I knew he was riding for me.

I was 18 doing the damn thing.

 

I spent my days writing in a journal that I knew I would eventually give to him, because writing letters was just too slow. I would sometimes go to sleep with his letters in my hand because it made me feel closer to him.

I was tired of arguing with other people about my relationship. I got tired of Quad calling my phone asking for a second chance and quizzing me about my new relationship.

What you thought this was, play play?

I’m telling you, having a relationship with someone who’s incarcerated is one of the most difficult things two people can do.

I couldn’t quit and I wouldn’t. If no one supported me, I didn’t give a damn. If it was going to be me and my man against the world, then I dared anyone to bring it.

I was 18 and doing the damn thing.

 

My relationship with Twan still wasn’t publicized, because I didn’t want people in my business.

Until one day I was miserably in my feelings, and decided to post a picture of him and I on my Twitter page. All I said was “Free him.”

Not even 10 minutes later, someone retweeted my tweet.

It was a girl who we will address as Candace.

I didn’t know who the hell she was, and why she retweeted my tweet.

It then began to concern me.

I decided to search his Twitter @ name, to see if anyone else has been tweeting about him.

And to my surprise, I froze at what I found.

It was Keisha.

It was Ariel.

It was Dricka.

It was Kierra.

It was Shanti.

It was Quanny.

All of these females were tweeting like me.

“Free my baby Twan!”

“And I’ll love him till the death of me…”

“I’ll ride for my n*gga…”

“Free my man”

“Me & him against the world….”

I was vexed as my heart started to beat out of my chest. My eyes started to well up from the back of my sockets and my hands were slowly curled into a fist.

Was this boy playing me all along?

I had been done this road before, but nothing like this, dawg.

This chick Ariel was posting pictures of my man daily.

I wanted to get to the bottom of everything. I quickly dialed his number and remembered that he wouldn’t answer.

I took a walk outside my dorm to cool my nerves. I had to keep it together until he called me.

And then I would let his ass have it.

“Is there anything you need to tell me?” I tried to sound as calm as possible.

“No, baby girl. What’s wrong?”

“You got these chicks on Twitter talking about you like yall together. Who is Candace? Ariel? Kierra?” I interrogated him.

He sighed. “Dawg, Ariel is my ex. I don’t know why she tryna claim me like that. That was way before you, Britt.”

“Yeah, fuck that. Who is Candace? She was bold enough to retweet a picture I posted of you and I.” I started to pace up and down the sidewalk outside my dorm.

“Candace is my ex too. I won’t lie, I was talking to her a little before I started talking to you.”

I inhaled sharply. “So why do they feel comfortable to post this shit about you? How do they even know you in here? You were running your mouth when you got out the first time?”

“Yo, my homeboys must have mentioned it. Kierra is my dawg I went to high school with. She was always with the affectionate shit, calling me baby and shit. You ain’t got nothing to worry about, I swear.”

And I swear if I could choke you now, I would.

“You got me out here looking dumb.” I stated sternly.

“C’mon, yo. Really? Ain’t nobody been riding for me but you and my momma. Ain’t nobody been giving me money but you and my momma.”

“And I put money on this fucking account to talk to your stupid ass. Nobody but me and your damn momma.” I snapped.

You have one minute remaining.

I sucked my teeth.

“I miss you, too, baby. This is where all that frustration is coming from.”

“Yeah, uh huh.” I spat.

“Britt, chill out. On my granddaddy soul, you have nothing to worry about. Swear.”

“I ain’t doing this shit for nothing, Twan. This shit is for you and me.”

“Keep riding, baby. I got you, and you damn sure got me. Love you.”

“Love you too.” I muttered.

Your call has ended.

 

I was 18 and doing the damn thing.

 

It was Spring Break, baby.

And my baby was getting out.

For good.

I was back in Miami, getting ready to meet Ms. Les so we could go get him together.

I was the first face he seen when he walked out with his normal clothes on, holding a brown paper bag, probably filled with more letters, raps, and drawings.

I didn’t care that he was fresh out; I smacked my lips on his and took in the love I once used to feel.

We were back this time. I could feel it.

We had a welcome home party for him back at the house. Before we left the jail, he gave me the brown paper bag, and told me to bring it to the house for him.

I didn’t think anything of it, so I did just that.

As the bag was riding in the backseat, I started to wonder what was exactly in there. I knew it was just papers, so I quickly pushed the thought out of my mind.

We all had a great time welcoming Twan back home, and we had some great food to go with it. His family was super cool, and they liked me more than I expected them too. Throughout everything, his 9 year old little sister became my little sister. She would call me for “boy advice”, and whenever I came home, we always went to lunch and got our nails done. She was truly my baby girl.

The next day was Twan’s birthday.

And of course, we had another get together at the house. More good food, more family time, more memories to be made.

And boy, did I make the best memory.

While Twan was in the shower, I sat on his bed, just reflecting on how things were on the up & up. He had his box fan circulating cool breeze onto my face and through my hair.

I glanced over at the brown paper bag that he gave me yesterday when he got out. I turned my head for one second, and the air from the box fan literally made the bag tip over, and all the paper contents that were in the bag, fell out everywhere.

I reluctantly got off the bed and picked up one of the sheets of paper.

It was a phone number list. My name was at the top, with my phone number next to it.

Then it was Candace, and her number.

Then Keisha.

Then Ariel.

Then Dricka.

Then Kierra.

Then Shanti.

Then Quanny.

I gritted my teeth as my heart started to flutter.

I threw that paper down and reached for another.

“Dear Candace… I miss you so much baby.”

 

And another.

“Candace, there’s not a minute that goes by that I ain’t thinking of your sexy ass. You’ve been holding me down since the get go, and we ain’t going nowhere.”

 

And another.

And another.

And another. Hell, he wrote me and Candace the same exact letter.

My body filled with rage as I pondered if I was gonna snap in Ms. Les’s house or cool off and wait for the perfect time. I felt like I was going to throw up.

Cookie was right. Breezy was right.

I messed up some real shit with my girls for this?

I was looking foolish and idiotic in these streets because of this?

I nearly lost myself because of this?

When he came in, I nearly slapped the taste out his mouth with a letter he wrote to Candace.

“What the hell!” He yelled.

“I trusted you! Candace, huh? Ariel, huh? You fucking BITCH!” I damn near lost my voice just uttering those two curse words.

“Bruh, its not-“

“SHUT UP! With your stupid ass phone list!” I shoved it in his face. “THIS is why you ain’t call me for FIVE DAMN DAYS! Solitary confinement MY ASS! Calling these other hoes! Calling Candace! You two timing motherfucker!” I bopped him in his chest and started to leave.

I fought my tears as I gathered my belongings and threw them into my purse. I kept fighting him off as he tried to grab me despite my rampant anger.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Les! I’m so sorry I disrespected your house.” I tried to sound sincere with my now hoarse voice and stormed out the door.

“What happened?!” She exclaimed.

I cried hysterically as I drove to a destination that I can’t even remember. But it felt like I was driving for days. Mascara stained on my face, nothing but pain in my eyes. My hands began to throb because I kept punching the steering wheel. I started hitting everything, even myself a few times, for being stupid and wasting all this damn time.

I wasn’t Bonnie.

I was stupid.

I hated him, and I hated myself.

I became a dark and bitter person after the breakup with Twan. Despite his constant phone calls, I hated what he did to me. I can honestly say I hated him.

A once happy and joyful soul was turned ugly and cold.

It got so bad, that one of my closest friends, Ray, urged me to go to counseling.

After many attempts of refusing her suggestions, I went.

For months.

I had to rebuild myself up again. I let someone not even worth loving me, break me into pieces. What I once saw as beautiful was ugly and cut up like a broken mirror.

What am I supposed to do with this heart?

 

Months went by, and I was back to being the young lady I knew.

Pain changed me. I was stronger, but I wasn’t dumb.

I couldn’t forgive Twan for anything.  You couldn’t pay me to say “I forgive you.”

It was fuck Twan, all day today, tomorrow, and the next day.

Even though I was well, whenever someone brought him up, it was easy for me to turn into a negative soul.

Until on Thanksgiving, he tweeted me that he missed me.

How petty of me to screen shot it, sneer at it, and post on my Instagram account, just to take it down hours later.

Not even a week later, I was in class with my friend Rie, who is also from Miami, when she mentioned that someone from back home got shot and killed.

“Girl, who?” I asked.

“Hold on, let me see if someone posted his photo on Instagram.”

Not even two minutes later, I got five text messages from friends asking me if I’m okay.

I was puzzled to say the least.

“Here he is. His name is Twan.”

She showed me her phone and there it was.

Twan had been murdered the night before.

I never forgave him while he was alive.

But when it hit me, I wished to God that I did.

I failed almost all of my finals that semester, but still managed to pass my classes.

The guilt took over my soul.

I cried for what seemed like an eternity.

I was so ashamed to call Ms. Les and asked what happened. It had been many months since we talked.

Twan was shot three times and left on the street for dead.

Someone wanted him dead. And I had no clue or details about who would want this and why.

And it tore me up inside.

And it ate at me every single day.

I decided that I needed closure. I needed to be there for his family.

I traveled back to Miami for the funeral, and Katia accompanied me to the viewing that night and the funeral the next day.

I nearly lost my mind when I seen him. I cried until I drooled, and I shouted until I was hoarse. My head began to throb and I wanted to pass out.

I gathered enough courage to stand over him and look at him peacefully sleep.

I talked to him for what seemed like hours, and for the first time, I finally told him.

“I forgive you.”

 

How do you forgive someone who’s already dead?

 

I saw Candace for the first time at the funeral. Of course, she was just as upset and torn up as me.

You see, after Twan and I broke up, they were still together. He admitted to me through text message that September that he cheated on Candace with me, and broke up with Candace, just to cheat on me with her.

I knew she knew.

We glanced at each other for a couple of seconds, and no words were spoken.

Only through our eyes.

I see her on Instagram. We follow each other delightfully. I have no issues with her.

We both had got played.

Twan was my last relationship.

Twan was my joy.

Twan was my pain.

And through it all, I thank God for him, and all the lessons he provided me.

After all…I’m able to share this story with you.

Take what you will from it.

Pain changed me. Pain made me learn. Pain made me love. Pain made me hurt.

But, pain…Pain gave me strength. Pain provides lessons.

I left my Bonnie persona with the snapback hat that was tucked into his coffin.

I was a new, young woman.

And this was the demise of the ’12 Bonnie & Clyde.

Love your loved ones. Forgive the ones you loved.

Don’t let the embalmment fluid beat you to reality.

I’ve spilled a great amount of raw and sweltering tea tonight. I will be taking just next week off. I am in my cousin’s wedding that I am too amped about, and I want to give everyone a chance to catch up with all of my posts.

I’ll be back during the week of October 5th.

Sip slow 🙂

Bree’s Personal Tea: ’12 Bonnie & Clyde

Happy Wednesday, tea sippers!

I think last week’s post, “One Minute Man”, came at a perfect time. Not only for me because these were recent events in my life, but for you all as well, because many of you could relate- especially my ladies. Some of you have also admitted to being that actual “One Minute Woman” that I described.

Throughout it all, with anything in life, I think it is always best to stay vocal. Many people don’t like to think about certain things so much, but putting thoughts into actual actions can make a world of a difference. Thinking things through, in my opinion, is one of the main things that you can do to stay true to yourself and maintain it within yourself.

However, experience is always the best teacher.

Tonight’s tea features another edition of “Bree’s Personal Tea”. I think you all enjoy these posts the most, because as usual, they are real experiences that have occurred in my life, and almost always, someone can take something from it and apply into their life.

My very first edition was “Bree’s Personal Tea: The Matrimony.” If you need a refresher, I suggest reading that post to get the feel of where I might go with it tonight. It will be lengthy, so I suggest you get comfy. This will also be broken into two parts, so this is your warning of a possible cliffhanger- don’t be mad at me! It’s a writer’s thing J

Everyone has heard of Bonnie & Clyde, and most know, or should know, their story.

Many of you may be more familiarized with The ’03 Bonnie & Clyde; that being Hov & Bey.

Allow me to reintroduce myself.

In 2012, I was Brittany.

I still was Bree.

But I took on a new role, a new name, a new persona, a new fame.

I was Bonnie.

’12 Bonnie & Clyde

I was 18 years old.

And I was out here doing the damn thing.

I had broken up with Quad, and that relationship was long gone.

Throughout that time I had sworn off of dudes, but found myself entangled right back in the field of men.

If you read “So Unpretty”, I mentioned a character very briefly that I said you would hear about later on.

That “later” is now.

He was Twan.

And when I say you couldn’t tell me nothing about him, you could not say one word.

We began as friends. He was convenient because he gave me a dude’s perspective on everything.

My head spinned into a whirlwind soon after, because the next thing I knew, he was already my guy.

Ever got into something way too fast?

I felt as if I was living fast, and not feeling like I would die young.

But I did, eventually.

It began as long distance. I was still into my freshman year at my university while he was back in my hometown in school.

Christmas Break, I had my first job at Marshalls. Whenever I got a chance to talk to Twan, best believe I was on the phone. Taking the call through headphones and all. And many days after I would get off of work, it wasn’t too long until we were hand in hand, just chilling.

Until one day, I didn’t hear from him.

And then the next day, I still couldn’t reach him.

And then Christmas came, I didn’t get a Merry Christmas.

Three days straight, and nothing from the dude I called my dude.

I sighed as I tried dialing his number again that Christmas night. I was surrounded by my family at our annual Christmas celebration at my great-grandmother’s house. It wasn’t the same anyway; she had passed away just two months earlier in October.

I began to grow anxious because now the phone wouldn’t even ring. It had some weird message on it, basically telling me to stop calling me because the caller isn’t available.

I had to go to work at Marshalls the next day, and I couldn’t even do my duties right as a cashier because Twan and his whereabouts were the only things on my mind. Not merchandise. Not money. Not even my lunch break.

Just him.

I instantly thought that he could be one of three things: In the hospital, in jail, or dead.

My mind didn’t want to wonder anymore.

After work, I drove to his mother’s house.

This would be the first time that she would meet me.

I didn’t care how crazy I looked or sounded; I wanted to know what happened to her son.. I wanted to know what happened to my boyfriend.

I cleared my throat as I knocked on the door mildly.

A woman who looked a bit distraught opened the door, slightly confused.

“Hello.” I started lowly. I began to raise my voice a little. “My name is Brittany. Um, I am not sure if you know who I am… I am a close friend of Twan’s.” I didn’t want to say girlfriend, for a fear of hearing that someone else may have been in that spot.

“Hi, Brittany. I’m Les.” She warmly smiled.

“Hi.” I half-smiled. “Ms. Les, is Twan alright? I have been trying to contact him for the past three days and I’m not hearing anything from him.”

She sighed and looked down at my work uniform. She sized me up from the shortcut wig I had on my head to the penny loafers I had on my feet.

“He’s in jail.” She stated flatly.

I gasped sharply as I held on to the railing that was on the front porch. “Jail…” I murmured.

“Yeah, he has gotten into some trouble. So, I spent this Christmas without my son.”

I looked down. “Wow, um, I’m sorry, Ms. Les.” I began to grow shy as I continued this rather awkward conversation with her.

“Oh, don’t apologize, sweetie. I will be okay, and so will his family.” She then reached for my hand. “And so will you.”

I couldn’t hide the sadness and disappoint on my face. My mind was racing trying to figure out what the hell did he do to land in custody.

“Um.” I fumbled in my purse for a pen and a scratch piece of paper. “I don’t know if you will go and visit him soon, but if you do, do you mind giving him my phone number?” I started to write the digits on the paper with a slight shaking in my handwriting.

“That’s no problem, Brittany.” She smiled and took the piece of paper from me. “I’ll be seeing him on Wednesday.”

I ran my fingers through my hair as my heart began to beat faster. “Okay, thank you so much. I really appreciate this.”

“No, I really appreciate you coming and checking on my son. I will be sure to tell him that, especially.”

“Oh, it’s nothing.” I lied.

“Here, take my number as well.” I pulled out my cell phone as she recited her phone number, and she went into the house to get her phone so I could input mine. We chatted for a few more minutes, and I was soon on my way home, trying not to beat my brain any harder than I had been doing the last four days.

Little did I know, this would be the beginning of a very special relationship between Ms.Les and I.

Wednesday was here. I was off from work, and I frantically paced around my house wondering if he would get my number today, and if he did, would he call.

Katia, who I grew up with and who I consider as my younger blood sister, was supposed to be coming over later that evening to do my hair. I was kinda like her test dummy back then, cause baby can lay some hair down now!

It was around 1:30PM when my phone rang, and it was a number I didn’t recognize.

At this time I had a raggedy HTC phone, so I would have to slide up to answer the call.

The only problem was… sometimes it would work, and sometimes my screen would freeze.

And just my luck, the screen froze as I tried to slide up to answer this foreign call.

I knew it had to be him.

I ended up missing the call, almost certain that it was from him. I then received a voicemail notification.

I quickly dialed my voicemail’s number to see who this was that just called.

The message started halfway through.

“Call from… Twan…Baby, pick up. To accept this, please pre-“

“Damn!” I screamed. I didn’t even know how this jail phone shit worked.

I quickly tried to call back the number, which of course, did not work.

I googled the number which lead me to a webpage where I then needed to set up an account and place money on it, that way I could accept phone calls that came from him.

I searched to see what the minimum was I could place on the account, just until I got paid later that Friday. The minimum was $30.00.

“Fuck.” I said, clenching my fist. I didn’t have much money, and I wasn’t gonna ask anyone for it, but I ended up paying the $30.00 because in my eyes, this was a priority.

18 years old, doing the damn thing.

I instantly got mad because of this situation he was currently putting me through. I called Katia angry and on the brink of tears, where she consoled me, and told me to hold it together until I spoke with him directly.

It was now around 7:00PM, and Katia was beginning to glue on my tracks for a new style I was trying; the Nicki Minaj bang and bob.

My phone began to ring.

It was the same number that tried to reach me earlier in the afternoon.

“HELLO!” I screamed when I was finally able to slide up and answer the phone.

“Hello. You have a call from… “Twan, baby girl please pic-”…..If you would like to accept this call, please press one now.”

I pressed the hell out of that 1 button.

Katia seen what was going on and closed my bedroom door that we were in so my momma wouldn’t hear this conversation I was gearing up to have with him.

“Hello!” He spoke.

“Hi, baby!” I exclaimed.

“Hey, hey girl. Look I can-“

“Man, where are you? Why are you there?”

“Britt, I messed up. I slipped into some deep shi-“

Click.

“No!!” I screamed, almost throwing my phone.

“Girl, what is wrong with you?” Katia questioned.

“The fucking call dropped!” I said, getting off my knees. “He needs to call my ass back.”

“Chill out, he will!” Katia yelled.

“I’m going outside until he does.” I slipped on my bedroom slippers and exited my home with uneven tracks flying all over my head. I sat on the porch and clenched my jaw as I continued to wait.

And then the call came.

I followed the prompts that would eventually become familiar to me, finally hearing his voice at the very end.

“Why are you there?” I asked immediately.

He proceeded to tell me the story of what landed him in jail. For confidentiality purposes, I will not go into detail about what happened. All I can tell you is that it did not involve death or drugs, he had a co-defendant, and that nobody was talking.

The severity of what the case was had me taken a back. I knew there would be a question he would ask me before we got off this call, and I was wondering what my answer would be.

“Look. I don’t know when I am getting out of here. Ma, you gon hold us down or what?”

Whoop, there it is.

Fuck! Out of all things that has happened to me, I never expected this to be next. Ever. This is my guy, my dude, I can’t leave him high and dry….

You have one minute remaining.

“Alright, boo. We gotta wrap it up. They are gonna cut this shit off real soon.”

I swallowed hard. “Yeah. Yeah, I know.”

“Brittany, you got me? You got us? Can you handle this?”

I bit my cheek as I heard… You have 30 seconds remaining.

“Yes.” I stated firmly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“I’m sorry, baby. I believe in me, you, and us together. Okay?”

I shook my head. “Don’t worry. Just do what you gotta do.”

“Hold me down, baby. I love you.”

Your call has ended.

If I could snatch out these tracks that were glued down, I would. I felt on edge, happy, sad, angry, loved, and disappointed all at the same time.

Bonnie was now my name.

I was 18 and doing the damn thing…

My phone stayed glued to my hip at all times.

I used to leave my phone in the locker at work, but forget that, wherever I went, it went, too.

Luckily, he never seemed to call when I was at work, which was a good thing on my part. I didn’t have to risk anything.

It started with him calling once every two days, and sometimes I heard from him twice in a day.

It started to take a toll on me because there would never be a time that I would be able to call him when I felt like.

He was controlled. I was controlled.

And soon enough, none of this shit became easy.

The weekend I was supposed to take the bus back to my university for Spring semester to start was here.

We got into the worst argument and those were the worst two days of my life.

At this time, I tried to be friends with Quad. Quad had a shindig at his house.

I was invited to come by him and the mutual friends we had.

I knew it was a bad idea to come, because Twan would probably call. No one was in my business about my new situation except a limited few.

I decided to roll through for just a little while, mainly to see the mutual friends Quad and I had. We were on speaking terms at this point, but he still wanted me back, and I didn’t have time for all of that.

Things were going well until Twan called.

I rushed to the bathroom to accept the call but it was way too loud.

I excused myself again and walked outside of the house. I began to smile because I could hear my guy loud and clearly.

My mind told me to get my keys and lock myself in my car, just in case anyone tried to interrupt me on this very important phone call.

Nah, everyone is in the house, it will be straight.

We spent 8 minutes on the call, talking and making plans of how thing would be when he got out of jail, and especially how we would move forward.

We still wanted to be together.

All of a sudden, my friend Gee, who knew about Twan and I, but was also great friends with Quad, busted the door outside and started to charge at me.

“Walk away. Walk away, go walk down to the block.” She warned me.

I mouthed out to her, “What happened?” and she pushed me to keep walking.

“What’s going on?” Twan asked.

“Nothing, I don’t even know. Okay so babe-“

“SO YOU’RE OUT HERE TALKING TO ANOTHER DUDE AT MY HOUSE?”

Quad’s voice roared down the sidewalk and slapped me straight in the face.

Who the hell told him I was on the phone with……

I started to walk away faster. “Baby, whatever you hear, don’t believe it. I already told you where I am!” I yelled at Twan.

Quad chased behind me until he was directly behind me.

“So who the FUCK is that on the phone? Huh? Your new dude? WHO IS THAT?” Quad boomed.

“Get the hell away from me!” I said, continuing to run away. “Gee, get him away from me!” I screamed.

“Naw, who the hell is that, Brittany? You chilling with other n*ggas now?? HUH??” Twan yelled.

“No! I told you I am with friends, and I told you it was at Quad’s house!” I yelled. “Twan, don’t trip!”

You have one minute remaining.

Gee continued to yell at Quad as Quad kept stepping to me. “SO THIS IS WHAT IT IS?”

“It’s been over between us! Get over it and get over ME! I done told you that!” I shook and screamed.

“So you couldn’t hold shit down for me, Britt? God damn, you couldn’t do it. You needed more male attention than me? You got your old dude up in the house with you and shit?!”

I soon realized this was a battle I was going to lose. I kept persuading Twan that I didn’t do anything wrong, but when a man behind bars hears another man’s voice, they have all reason to suspect anything.

He got insecure on me.

You have thirty seconds remaining.

“Twan, damnit, listen to me! I don’t have much time!”

“No, fuck Brittany! Tell her to get outta my house! Off of my property!” Quad screamed, banging on the fence.

“If that’s not your dude, then why the hell is he so mad?!” Twan continued to howl.

“Cause he wants me back but I don’t want him, Twan! Damnit, I want who I’m on the phone with!”

“Nah, forget you! It’s over! You dumb ass little girl! I hate you!”

Your call has ended.

I stood still, tears rolling down my face, and my phone slipping out of my hand and onto the sidewalk.

It was over.

I lost my man.

————

Stay tuned for next week, sippers.

The Urban Storyteller, Bree 

IG: salutemeorshootme_juicy

Twitter: @OhEmGee_SoJuicy

#TeaBreeAndBreathe #TBB

One Minute Man

Welcome back, tea sippers.

Based off last week’s tea, “You vs. Them”, quite a few of you are sworn off of men with children.

I have yet to find women who were in several situations like me. But I know they are out there, cause I cannot be the only one getting hit on by all the baby daddies.

I don’t know, I just feel as if I should never have to compete. And with the situation with Deuce, I couldn’t compete with a baby. There wasn’t enough room in his heart for me- not to be sappy- but it opened up my eyes to see how difficult dating men with children can be.

If you have no idea what I am talking about, I suggest you read last week’s tea and catch up. It was pretty good to me. *sips*

Tonight’s tea stems from something I am beginning to notice lately. And not just in my life, but in the women around me.

Something that happens with longevity, but can be gone within a blink of the eye.

Something that makes you turn your head at one point, and then makes you feel like you broke your neck doing just that.

Something that makes you bite your lip, until you realize you made yourself bleed.

Something that made your imagination churn its wheels, but now it’s to a complete halt.

Something that used to make your engine purr, but not even the finest oil could get it moving again.

Something that makes you hot and sizzle when it first begins, and then a headache makes it all end.

That’s right, ladies and gents.

I’m talking about a One Minute Man.

Let’s dig in.

One Minute Man

“Break me off, and show me what you’ve got, ‘cause I don’t want no one minute man….”

If there’s anything that is on my agenda of shit I can’t stand, it is indeed a One Minute Man.

And no, I am not referring to anything sexual.

It’s always those types of guys who decide to act right, then dip in when they feel like it, stay in literally for a “minute” or so, and then they are back on their way out the door.

You don’t realize you’ve got one until it actually happens to you.

I’m pretty sure there are plenty of One Minute Women out there too, just to be fair to the men. Play with you until they get bored, and leave you at the wayside the next.

As always, Ms. Bree always has a couple of tales up her sleeve. I mean, I am the Urban Storyteller.

We’ll call him C-Note. C for short.

Trust me, I have my reasons for these peculiar nicknames I give to these characters. Just follow along.

C was this honey brown, clean cut dude with the best set of pearly white teeth I had ever seen in my life.

And yall know me, I am definitely a teeth person.

Just like Q, I happened to meet C at Wal-Mart. The same place I vowed to never look at the opposite sex again. For reasons you can probably tell…

I stood in the can good aisle stocking up on my veggie and pork ‘n beans when the continued stares were starting to drive me up the wall.

Just say something, damn. I muttered as I bent my back to get the last of the can goods I needed.

When I looked up, he flashed those pretty ol teeth of his and my eyes zeroed in on his lips.

“Hello.” The very deep baritone in his voice slapped my soul up and down as I wondered how did that sound actually come out of him. It wasn’t like he was 6’2 and had the muscle to match, but hey, your girl wasn’t complaining.

So you know, I made it do what it do, I bagged the number, and it was on and popping.

I pranced around the house putting away my groceries, taking my sweet time because of course, I was going to make him wait to receive my number. Ladies, sometimes, it’s best not to be too eager.

About two hours later, I sent C-Note a message, and things started to rocket. I found myself falling asleep when he used to make my hotline bling… sometimes at ungodly hours.

I thought C and I were just going to be friends and kick it, despite the initial attraction I had to him when we first met. But the more we hung out, the more I noticed that I wasn’t quite in the friend zone just yet.

And that’s great when it comes to women like me.

I happened to be taking my midterm exam when C-Note made my hotline bling, and he wanted to stop by before he went out to the bar with some of his homeboys that night.

I was pretty much done taking my exam, and I had over an hour left to complete it, which made me consider him doing just that: stopping by.

Before I could even answer, he said he was on his way.

“Well, you don’t even know where I stay at.” I spat with a playful attitude.

“Nah, you told me the name of your complex last week. I’ll figure the rest out.” He said slyly.

I laughed as I hung up the phone. C-Note didn’t know my rule: No one is allowed into my home.

Hope he knew that he was literally stopping by… outside.

I left my computer unattended as I slipped on my bedroom slippers and met C outside. He was already leaning on his white Nissan Altima, his cologne was too strong, and hell, I seen his teeth before I seen his eyes.

Damn, he got some nice teeth.

We leaned on his car for all of twenty minutes, catching each other up on how our week was going so far, and what would we have on the agenda for the weekend.

C was cool. It was cool when we hung out together.

But I didn’t act so cool when he leaned in for a peck on the lips as he was getting ready to head to the bar and meet his friends.

I looked like a deer in headlights when he opened back up his eyes. It startled him a bit, but he wasn’t as startled as me.

“What’s the look for?” He slowly said.

“I mean, I wasn’t expecting that.” I nervously chuckled.

“You can always expect the unexpected with me.”

And before I knew it, he came in for yet another kiss!

And scored, again.

“Call you when I get home, sweet cheeks.” He got into his car, and put it in reverse as he drove out of my complex.

I held my lip as I walked up the stairs, remembering that I needed to check my work and click submit on my midterm exam.

“Oh my damn.” I remember hearing myself say, wondering what was going to happen next.

I always find myself in a situation where a guy initially digs me, and just as I start to dig them back….

Damn, the one minute is up.

I could literally count on my hands how many more times I spoke to C after that night. We had a bomb conversation when he left the bar that evening, and we were up to almost 5:00AM.

I swear, conversations like that are rare these days.

As soon as I started to see C-Note as some potential, that’s when the actual potential, faded away.

What once used to be easy to shoot a text asking what he was up to for the day seemed like the hardest task. Phone calls that once rolled off the tongue could now not even get one syllable out.

C left your girl high and damn dry.

And of course, being a woman, the first thing I asked myself was, “Did I do something wrong?”

Hot for one minute, and cold the damn next.

I could ask this question to any guy, and most of them would probably give me this answer:

“Maybe he lost interest.”

Well, how Sway, how?

Am I the only woman who sees the difference in talking to someone every single day and then frowning up if two weeks goes by without hearing from them?

Guys love to get us women fired up and some try to get us loosened up, just for them, to chunk the deuces anyway.

That’s my definition of a one minute man.

Nothing sexual. Strictly based off personality.

Hot one minute, and freezing cold the next. Entering the Sahara just to vacate to Antarctica.

I busted my brain for two days straight, wondering what failed and was I the blame.

But baby, I can’t blame myself for actually being more than a One Minute thing.

C-Note isn’t the only One Minute Man I have encountered. The patterns of a One Minute Man are universal- as soon as you have realized that you actually have one-or had one– on your hands.

I mean, just as soon as things started to get heavy, you know, you actually think about this person in another dimension.

Then poof! Houdini couldn’t have done a better job than these types of cats.

Ladies, unfortunately, he could do all the right things in the beginning: being consistent, practicing communication, and making the active interest to get to know you and go out with you.

But there’s always the unknown in a man’s intentions.

Unless, you are indeed, dating, talking or messing with, a man.

Date with a purpose.

Fellas, if you know you don’t want anything close to serious, do not pursue a woman illustrating those characteristics.

Say what you mean and mean what you say.

And it is utterly complete bull when some guys say, “I didn’t want to hurt her feelings.”

MAN UP! You wouldn’t have to worry about her feelings if you would have just kept it a buck from the get go!

Men and women love to scream honesty, but hell, where is it when it’s time to actually date somebody? I mean, is dating not the building block to a successful relationship?

Fellas, stop demonstrating One Minute Man behavior, and maybe you could find something real in your life. Playing with the emotions of women is just a Karma I don’t think you would want to reckon with. Besides, what does that say about your character? Especially, as a man. Women don’t want a man who is wishy washy! Be firm in what you want and be firmer in what you believe in.

Ladies, don’t allow One Minute Man behavior. If he comes back, it’s up to you to see how much you will take before putting your foot down. By all means, you are not a revolving door. Don’t display yourself as one.

He wanted to act up the first time, I hope he is doing something meaningful while you give him a second try.

And ladies, we can be guilty of it too. Hitting up an old flame in our black book, with no intentions on taking him seriously, especially if we know that he wants us back! Ha! I love you ladies, but I have to call a timeout on that. As much as we don’t like being hot and heavy and being left high and dry, it isn’t the best thing to do it to the opposite sex, even if we do it for revenge, or just because it feels damn good.

I don’t want anything near a One Minute characteristic. I want something with longevity, something sustaining, something that will hardly ever extinguish my flame.

I date with a purpose. Despite the many buttholes and jockey straps of men I meet, I will always date with a purpose.

I encourage you to do the same. Be expressive when it comes to what you want out of who you date. Forget the fear of hurting someone’s feelings- it is best that they know.

So, fellas, if your old could-have-been-boo sees you at the mall, and she’s with your friends, don’t get mad when she hollers you’re a One Minute Man. Telling her girls that you are about the games, and there isn’t a serious bone in your body.

And when they begin to chuckle, roll their eyes, and sneer, because that girl was already gossiping with her girls, she could have threw in a lie or two in there.. You know, just to make you feel a little something.. they may end up thinking that you’re actually just that, by the true definition: A One Minute Man. No pumps necessary. Literally.

Wipe the yolk off your face, youngin’.

Listen to Toni, and just be a man about your intentions.

It isn’t that damn hard.

Date with a purpose and be about just that: your purpose.

Till next week.

The Urban Storyteller, Bree 

IG: salutemeorshootme_juicy

Twitter: @OhEmGee_SoJuicy

#TeaBreeAndBreathe #TBB

You vs. Them

I’m here to serve another cup of tea. Hope yall are ready to sip.

It’s a bit of a scorch.

This week and last week has been a bit hectic! School is back in session and it was definitely time to pull out my planner again and schedule out my life. Nevertheless, I’m having a great two weeks- just getting back into the groove of things. Shoutout to everyone who’s also back in school grinding; graduation on the way! Spring 2016 for me 🙂

Last week, I opened up and talked about a very vulnerable chapter into my life when I discussed the relationship, or lack thereof, of Deuce & I.

If you remembered clearly, I did mention that there was something that Q and Deuce had in common.

Could you all guess what it is?

And no, it isn’t marriage…

A kid.

 

I won’t say that Deuce being a father caused us to split up completely, but I have to admit that it played a major role into why we never really progressed.

For all my ladies out there who have encountered this problem like me-you know, always meeting men with babies-it’s something very common these days. Most women can swallow it up and deal with it with no problem. And then you have some women where it would make them hoot and holler and almost lose their doggone sanity because of the baby mama drama.

And let me not be bias, fellas, it can be hard for yall too. Baby daddy drama isn’t the business, either.

Gather round sippers, Ms. Bree has yet another story to tell. Grab those tea cups while you’re at it, too. Maybe bring two.

You vs. Them

“Damn! Why did this negro have to have a baby?”

Those were my exact thoughts right when I met Deuce and when he revealed that part of his life to me.

Now if you are an avid reader of TBB, you already know that this is not my first encounter with men and children. Shoot, my very own high school sweetheart had a baby on me and I didn’t even know it.

And I didn’t stand for it either.

You would think, more time has passed, more maturity would show into these “men”…

Absolutely not.

Heck no, no, and no.

Some of you may think to yourself, “Well, why do you entertain guys with kids anyway?”

Honestly, I have gotten that question a lot. Quite frankly, I date people because I see potential in them. I won’t penalize every single guy for having a child young, or whatever age they may be. That’s my business, and that is my preference. For things not to work out with me and that person, it would have to be deeper than just the issue that he has a child.

But, different strokes for different folks.

Everything was working out fine with Deuce and I until I got a call from him one day; it was actually a couple of days before his birthday.

Surprisingly, it was about baby mama drama. And he wanted to discuss it with me.

Interesting.

I sharply inhaled as I asked him what was going on.

“I am so mad right now, yo. So I am trying to go back to my hometown, you know, to spend time with my family, and she’s threatening me talking about ‘Oh if you leave for the weekend, I’mma tell everyone that you ain’t been doing SHIT for this baby! And you’re not gonna see MY baby either!’ Bruh, all I wanna do is go home and she spazzin! She tends to forget who went grocery shopping and put food in her house, who went with her to all the doctor’s appointments, going to birthing classes and shit, and who did her damn homework when she was too sick to do it her damn self…”

My eyes widened in disbelief and before I could say something out of character, I bit my tongue profusely while he continued to express his anger.

If she’s spazzin about him going back to his hometown, then she’s gonna set it off when she hears about me…

Continued thoughts ran through my head.

She sounds crazy as hell… I mean who gets mad that the father of their child is going back home to be with their family… I wonder if they are still messing around.. Maybe his man part has her talking greasy like that…

“Bree? You there?” He asked loudly.

“Yeah Deuce, I’m with you.” I scratched my head and paced my bedroom floor. “Look, you know what you have done for your kid, and no one can take that away from you, not even her, and how mad she is. Keep doing what you have to do, and don’t let these threats fool you or make you pop off. She will use it against you.”

My calm tone seemed to cool him off and I often founded myself staring in the mirror, because I couldn’t believe he called me about something like this. Not saying he couldn’t call me, but shoot, not about no baby mama drama… But regardless, that was my rider, so I did my job- ride.

That wasn’t the last time we had a conversation about her (and we’ll keep her name just like that- “HER”) because then she started to step her game up.

She continued to post pictures of them on her social networks, portraying that they were still together and that they were the “perfect family”.

I nearly split my wig and that’s actually what our first argument was about- Her.

But after the steamed cooled off from that very heated argument, she didn’t post not nann photo of him or them again- even till this day.

But she didn’t stop there.

Nights he would be with her to co-parent their child, mysteriously, I would get calls and when I would pick up, no answer.

Childish.

But to top it off, not only was she calling me and hanging up and when I picked up, she decided to block me from his phone for a whole weekend.

I thought the whole time Deuce was ignoring the heck outta my texts, until I called, and realized I’ve been blocked.

Deuce & I were on great terms at this time, so us talking everyday was the usual. And when I didn’t hear nothing from him, and shoot, I couldn’t say anything back, I knew who the culprit had to be.

He ended up calling me off his homie’s phone because he thought I was igging him. The conversation that started off mysteriously turned really funny when he looked through his phone to discover that my contact was blocked.

“So you letting her go through your phone now?” I quizzed him.

“You know better than that. I don’t have a lock on my phone.”

“Typical.” I said, rolling my eyes.

“I’m over there spending time with my child.. And you know I’m not on my phone when I’m with my kid..”

“Well, she knows all about me now. She had to go through the text messages. How else would she know to block me?”

“Man, imma call you back.” Click.

I guess he called himself taking care of business that night.

I was wondering if this was God really testing my patience- giving me someone who was a great guy but just had baggage, or was this a way of God saying that my future husband will have kids and maybe he is trying to equip me for the Tom foolery early on.

Nevertheless, the situation that grinded my gears the most was when I ran into him at the grocery store.

With the baby.

Cause I knew she couldn’t be too far behind.

Them going to the store together wasn’t anything new to me. He was the breadwinner and he made sure he provided for his child.

But I never planned on seeing it in action.

He was by the deli in Publix grabbing some lemonade when I looked off my phone and seen him.

“Hey!” He said extremely loud in the store.

I was a bit startled. “Hey honey.”

His child began to coo in the stroller that Deuce was pushing.

I tried my hardest not to make eye contact with the baby. Quite frankly, I didn’t want anything to do with the child as of yet. So, I didn’t want the baby looking at me either.

“What you in here getting?” He asked.

“Just some juice and snacks. Heading to a little shindig.” I said, looking around. I was a bit annoyed, because I knew she was in the store.. somewhere.

He instantly read my vibe. “She’s in line.”

I scoffed. “Oh, yeah, my spidey senses were tingling all up and down this place…”

He shook his head. “I ain’t hear from you all day. You alright?”

“Yeah, I was at work all day and it was busy as heck. We can talk tonight, though.” I said, rubbing his cheek.

“Alright sounds good, cutie.” He rubbed my cheek back. “Well, let me run…”

I rolled my eyes and fake smiled. “Yeah, go handle that.”

I proceeded to walk to the 10 items or less line while he went over the checkout line, 3 lines behind me.

And I knew I was the target.

I proceeded to check out my items and I could feel a hole being burned in the back of my head something serious.

I didn’t look back just yet though.

See, I could be trifling and blow a kiss at him on the way out. Tell him he was looking gooda than a mofo,  but I wasn’t gonna make her mad just yet. I was not going to make her my business yet.

When I took my receipt from the cashier, I turned back to find her staring directly, and I stopped in my tracks to stare back. He looked at me with a disapproving stare and then I glanced back at her. I nodded my head one good time and walked out the exit of the store.

I wasn’t gonna make her my business just yet.

Until I needed to be.

Until it would be proven that Deuce & I were going to be in a committed & serious relationship, she was not my business.

And neither was their child.

Who knows, maybe they rekindled and that’s why Deuce has vanished from the chapters of my life.

Good ridings.

And then there was this cat, we’ll call him Montana.

Montana and I started off as friends, but for the first time, someone saw me outside of the home girl role (sarcasm).

I was hesitant to get anything hot and started with Montana because he too, had a child.

Man, why do I keep attracting men with kids?!

I never had to deal with his baby mama cause quite frankly; I didn’t let things get too deep with Montana.

But that doesn’t mean I was skeptical of what he was doing with her, and why the heck he needed to talk to me while doing it.

But when the evidence of Montana and the mother of his child taking trips and shit surfaced, them enjoying the weather of the cities they encountered and eating lavish foods, the phone was already hung up before I could get my hands and acrylic nails on it.

Baby, it was a wrap.

Ladies, and gents, it isn’t easy to meet someone who’s really bout it bout it.

Along with that, it is easy to find ladies and men with kids these days. It’s the norm, clearly, and it’s nothing that will really go away.

There are some people who strictly stray away with people with children. And that is their preference.

I’ve stated mine; I won’t punish a man for reproducing and then wanting to date me. What I do have an issue with is the balance of it all. If this man makes the cut to be my man, can he actively be a father too?

Deuce could never officially be my man because the balance was not there. He did not know how to be a father to his child and be a man to me.

And that is okay.

Ladies, you don’t have to deal with inconsistency just because he has a child! In the beginning, Deuce tried his best, which was a great try, to be present in my life, and of course, more present in his child’s life. That is what I want from him. And if putting me on the back burner is going to help him be the best father he can be, then baby, set me free.

And that’s what happened.

Montana is just a prime example of what goes on every day.

“Naw, I don’t fuck with my baby mama.”

“Man, I can’t stand her!”

“Naw, it don’t even matter cause she messing with some other n*gga now.”

And the lie detector determined….

That was lie.

Follow your intuition. I can’t tell you if you should date a man with kids or not, because there is so much more you need to look at before determining if he even makes the cut for being your man.

Kids can make yall or break yall. Literally.

There are no success stories here, but I see plenty. There are men out there who can actively date you and be the best dad in the world. With no excuses.

He just has to have the motivation to do the two.

Till next week, yall. As always, leave your comments and let’s have a discussion. I’m open to it all. 🙂

Have a safe and fun Labor Day weekend!

The Urban Storyteller, Bree 

IG: salutemeorshootme_juicy

Twitter: @OhEmGee_SoJuicy

#TeaBreeAndBreathe #TBB

Act Right

What it is, tea sippers? Glad to see you back this week.

“If Loving You Is Wrong…” had a lot of you inspired, stirred up, and a few of you were… fired up. Nevertheless, you all were impacted and I served my purpose by sharing my experience.

In the same breath, please understand that I do not share these experiences to make the character who may have been spoken of “look bad”. This all serves as a source of inspiration and strength. You should always be comfortable with yourself, no matter if you were a bad person in your past life, or if you were an “angel” your whole life.

Do you and live. Don’t guilt yourself.

Don’t let your past haunt your future.

As for TBB, me & my experiences will rock, rock on. If you’re rocking too, then baby, let’s roll!

Once again, I have to take out the time to personally thank those who were touched by ANY post I have written (especially “So Unpretty”), who became motivated from my writing, and who continue to support me. Thank you for letting my passion ignite the true person in you!

Finding the truth in anything can go one of two ways. It could work out for the better, or its actions could play out for the worse.

Finding the truth in people is a bit more perplexed. If you’re in something held sacred as a really close friendship or even a committed relationship, you can’t get anywhere if you don’t receive any truth from your partner. There is no true progression in anything false.

Except that once the falsifying evidence has come to the light, you can do one of two things: fight or flight. 

But then you may think, when is enough really enough?

Or you might ponder, how come no one fights for anything anymore?

My only determinant to it is: Is it worth it?

You’ll find yourself asking your girls, “Man, why won’t he just act right?”

Let’s get into tonight’s cup of Lipton tea, with a little brown sugar in the mix.

It’s a little unique. Has a bit of a twist to it.

Act Right

” I miss you in the day.. I miss you in the night…. I miss the way we used to talk, but I don’t miss your lies…”

 

I bumped K. Michelle’s,  “Miss You, Goodbye” as I drove down the road in pouring rain, singing my heart out, voice hoarse, nose stuffy, and my eyes welling up, because it was then I realized…

It was over.

I invested six months of my heart, my time, and my energy into a man who in reality, I thought I knew, but was a stranger all the way through.

My poor little heart had to be pissed off at me again. How did I let something like this happen to us once again? I mean, didn’t I learn the first time? 

It’s natural for us women to always blame ourselves first hand after what someone else has done to us.

Like we are the ones unable to perform. Unable to meet his standards. Unable to fulfill the needed requirements.

When sometimes we cannot even fill the void within our damn selves.

We rely on a man to do that.

A repeat of “So Unpretty”. 

 

Damn him. 

We’ll call him Deuce.

Deuce came not too long after I went through all that drama with Q. It couldn’t have been at a better time, honestly. I was open and inviting to another opportunity to try this thing called dating, which maybe, just maybe, could lead to that thing called love.

Deuce had something in common with Q, but I won’t reveal that just yet.

If you think about it, then you could probably figure it out.

Heartache was soon on my way, but my mentality pushed for the opposite.

I dusted my ass off and tried yet, again, for something true, blue, and damnit, real.

I met Deuce at my job. He was actually my patient at the time.

Shoot… I was just trying to make my money, and hey, I so happened to meet a man.

Lucky me.

As many smiles Deuce brought me on our initial dates, and throughout the days and nights we would text from sun up to sundown, he matched them all with a frown.

I used to bounce around my job, peaking at my phone to see if he had texted me. I spent extra time in the mirror than usually just in case he ever popped up to see me. I had butterflies every time he reached for me.

But it didn’t last too long.

It’s funny how women let the one thing that makes them so happy make them become so sad, stressed, depressed, and burned out; mentally, physically, emotionally, and spiritually.

I think that often happens when women put their all and give their all into a man too soon. I truly believe it makes men much more comfortable to let them do what the hell they want to do.

But in this case, he didn’t show me that. He showed me what I was looking for. I had what I was longing for.

When I got caught up in Deuce and how well he was treating me, what did I do?

Some of you may say, ” Okay, she must have said or did something to  mess things up with him.”

The other half of you may say, “She believed his actions and went with the flow.” 

If you guessed choice number one, then you’re starting to know your tea server a little well.

I let my insecurities of my past of troubled dating and relationships yet again, get in the way of something potentially great. I ran Deuce away with my actions and at first, I was not apologetic about it.

See, that was that pride in me.

“Well, he was gonna dog me out anyway.”

For once, something was actually my fault. 

It was actually my fault why he went away.

Because I couldn’t face the music. Because I didn’t believe in him like I thought I did.

Remember how I mentioned that women tend to block their blessings?

Because I thought my heart would finally be good with him.

Well, I blocked this one in every way possible.

This caused me to yet go through another self-evaluating process and check the hell outta myself, because I thought-that for once and for all- I was over my past shit and I wanted to move on.

Hell, I needed to move on.

I wasn’t trying to be like Mary J. and sing the same ole song.

Damn, even Mary moved on. 

I was never Deuce’s woman and I think that is what got to me. I punished myself for months for pushing away someone who I once adored and thought was great for me.

“I hate you’re not the one… I hate you’re moving on….” K. Michelle sung in the background.

God has a funny way of working.

After reconciling for something that was stupidly done, I still wasn’t satisfied.

He then placed me in the friend zone.

Tuh. Me? Bree? The Diva? Ms. Juicy?

He had me more bent than a paper clip.

I realized that I wanted him in my life as something rather than nothing at all.

And I took it.

And I suffered.

And I tortured myself.

“Oh, I can change his mind. This is just a phase.”

Because I couldn’t be just friends with a man I felt more for.

“Maybe you’ll see what we can be, and then you’ll come around…” K. Michelle sung gently.

Deuce was my G. My rider. My partner. My joker. My friend. My crush.

And my man, in my head.

So did he really expect to just be my friend? Did he feel nearly as much as I felt for him? He was never one to express how he felt.

And that’s where I went wrong.

As many smiles he gave me, he gave me more growls in between. For more reasons than you can imagine…

Even within this “friendship”, I never was treated as a friend. Calls would go unreturned, texts would never be answered, and hang out dates were always cancelled.

I can’t make him act right, though. 

He isn’t my man, I can’t scold him on what he’s exactly doing wrong.

He isn’t even my friend, I can’t even communicate what the problem is.

Knowing my feelings that I had hanging in agony could only get me so far. One day those feelings would get tired of hanging, and would no longer breathe oxygen like you and I.

And it did.

And it hurt. Like hell.

My really good friend who we will address as Melanie, was riding the wave with me ever since I started riding with Deuce.

She rooted for him at first, because she knew all that I had been through.

But she also told me that he would be the reason of our demise.

I thought I could make him act right, though. 

I spent months reaching out to someone who was emotionally unavailable to me. I spent time trying to put in work to make him be the best man for me.

But I couldn’t make him act right, though. 

I waited six months to share a passionate kiss with someone who didn’t share a butterfly in his stomach with me.

Little did I know that kiss was a goodbye kiss, because this had to end, and it had to end faster than it began.

I swallowed my pride and poured out my feelings to him. Literally.

And I didn’t even get a reply.

“Oh, you can’t say I didn’t try, it might make me cry… Oh, it’s gon hurt, no lie, I miss you, but goodbye…” K. Michelle screamed at me.

 

I couldn’t deal with the in between, the sometimes texting, the lack of attention.. Deuce had me on my shit and I was ready to get off of it. I was ready to be inattentive, unavailable, and uninterested in him.

Deuce was clearly undateable.

When times were good, they were great.

But I couldn’t make him act right, though.

You ever feel like you just want to shake somebody sometimes? And maybe their sense will return to their head?

You ever want to just slap somebody up because they just won’t act right? Because they just can’t get it together? Because they didn’t follow the script that you had written in your head?

It was one thing if Deuce was still on the argument we had the first go around. If this was his way of revenge, he didn’t have to come back around.

But he came back with an intention. An intention he made unclear every single day, and I should have been smarter to bring that intention to the daybreak before investing anymore into him.

But playas fuck up too, right?

Men, you can’t decide that one day you want to pursue a woman and do what is intended to pursue her and then treat her like she is just a “friend” to you the next.

Women, understand that this is not  the way anything should start. Understand that if these actions are demonstrated to you, you aren’t a priority. You are not what he truly wants.

You’re a play toy.

A Game Boy.

A Playstation.

An Atari or even a Nintendo 64, if you’re an old soul.

My really good friend, who we’ll call Ace, told me something literally the weekend before I had to cut Deuce off.

“Men are natural born hunters. They know what they want, and they go for what they want.” 

I wanted Deuce more than he wanted me. Once upon a time, Deuce was the hunter and I was the prey.

I was slipping when I turned it the other way. He was my prey, but he didn’t want to be hunted.

Damn, what changed?

 

Ladies, please assess and comprehend that no matter what you do, no matter what you say, a man will only act right, IF he wants to act right.

Don’t sit up here and make excuses as to why he isn’t being the way he used to be towards you, or why he isn’t being a good person or man to you period.

All you are responsible for is what you do to a person.

In my case, I took responsibility for what I did way back when in the beginning and we moved past it.

Or so I thought.

Because I still couldn’t get him to act right, though. 

 

And after six months, I realized the fate of it all.

“If there’s any hope, my head says ‘Let it go’, but my heart says, fight for, fight for, who you love…. But I’m giving up….” K. Michelle shouted with pain.

I had to let him go.

Ladies, it’s best if you let go of your “Deuce” as well.

No matter how tight he holds you, how passionately he kisses you, and how beautiful he says you are, you need to know when you have put out way more effort than your “partner”, and you need to determine when enough is enough.

How can you fight with no opponent? 

Believe what is right in front of you. As soon as he shows you who he is, take it and run with it. Don’t treat it as fiction, a fallacy, or a fable.

It’s truth.

Chew it and swallow it all.

Don’t lie to your eyes- believe what is right in front of you. 

I’ve heard many women say..

“Oh, I got that act right.”

“Yeah, this thang will make him act right.” 

 

Well if you think that some punani will make a man act right, then baby… You’re in for a treat. Punani ain’t exclusive. You ain’t the only with the “tightest” one, either.

A man will act right if he wants to act right.

If he wants you, he’ll show you. He’ll tell you.

If he intends on making you his woman, then he will make you his woman. 

Ladies, we love to dream and we love to be confident that we will change their minds and we will make them fall in love and want us and need us but in reality….

They won’t.

Unless they want to. 

Vow to make yourself acquainted with the truth in front of you.

You could be living in a lie because you allowed yourself to.

Deuce was my lie and I loved it.

But I loved myself more.

My sorority sister K. Michelle said it best.

“Can’t wait for someone to see my worth…” 

 

Don’t wait to exhale. Exhale now.

If you follow my personal Instagram account, I posted something that may give you ladies just a little bit more motivation to get your mind right.

“Ladies, just a reminder that there are better looking men out there with an extra inch than the one who’s playing games with you.”

 

Now you can look at “inch” as in he has more to offer than the bum you’re messing with. Or, you can take “inch” literally and fantasize how that might be for you…

The choice is yours. 🙂

All I want to illustrate is that there is always better. Don’t settle for a guy’s piece of hell when you really deserve more than a slice of heaven’s cake.

Know yourself, know your worth. 

Drake didn’t have to say that though.

If you think about it, no one has that “act right”. Someone is good to you because they want to be.

And if you are getting the opposite, understand its because they wanted to be.

Think smarter, not harder, my lovelies. Sip your tea slowly.

Till next week.

You’re in for a treat.

As always.

-Bree ❤️

You know the drill!

IG: salutemeorshootme_juicy

Twitter: @OhEmGee_SoJuicy

#TeaBreeAndBreathe #TBB

If Loving You Is Wrong…

I had such a great post for you, tea sippers. But Satan himself deleted all of my wisdom from the notepad in my phone and I had to start from scratch. I hope that you all will enjoy this post just as much.

Some of you were really touched with “So Unpretty”. It goes to show that no matter how well you may know someone, you never know exactly what they may be going through. Even people who went to high school with me and read last week’s post, had no clue of how things really were for me.

It is important to always love yourself first, and love yourself always. Don’t be like many women who wait until they first find a partner, then build themselves up with the partner and uses what he or she says to help build themselves up, and then when and if that relationship ends, they have nothing. Zip Zelch. Nada. Bullshit.

Be smarter than that, ladies.

Everyone wants love, right? And ladies, when we go through the ups and downs of life, we still have the urge to want to be tended to, and give all this loving we have to someone else, of course, after we give it to our damn self first.

Ladies, if you are a woman of past scorn like me, I will tell you this.

No one likes a Bitter Betty. A Negative Nancy. A Bitchy Bonnie.

What you put into the universe, is what you will receive.

It took me years to master this concept, but maybe I can save you some time.

Let’s get into tonight’s cup of sweet tea.

If Loving You Is Wrong…

I was tired of being dogged the hell out.

Dread, my high school sweetheart, was the first of many to lead the line of love failures in my life.

Quad wasn’t the best to follow up with. I was with Quad a couple months before my senior year of high school (feel free to refresh yourself of these noted characters in last week’s post, “So Unpretty”). It was until my first Fall semester in college that things took a turn for the worst, and I realized my man was becoming my enemy.

Me being away in school was always his excuse to start arguments and make accusations about me stepping out on him, when in reality, this was all a distraction to take the heat off of him and try to hide the dirt he was doing behind my back in Miami.

The relationship left me stressed out, all while balancing 5 classes, plus extracurricular activities, all in my first real semester in college. I knew that this relationship had taken a turn for the worst, and it was becoming detrimental to my health, my schooling, and to my mind. It was sickening, and I had to go.

The breakup initially left me disappointed, angry, bitter, unfocused, and hurt.

I glanced in the mirror one day and noticed the wideness in my hips, my pretty smile and white teeth, the way my lashes danced as I blinked, my brown bronzing skin and realized…

I was a new me.

I now had the persona that I was never going to be played again. And I would do whatever necessary to make sure a negro never caught me slipping, would never hold my feelings by my hand, and snatch it away when he damn near pleased.

If I ever met someone new, I had it all planned out. I wouldn’t smile at him too much, I would make sure not to laugh at all his jokes, and I would make him feel like he wasn’t worth my time. I would do anything necessary to make sure that no one would play with me or test me again.

I was now that hardcore chick, who had the stankest face to complement my eyes that seemed to stay rolling, and I wasn’t a force to be reckoned with. My hurt and pain was now changed into a physical shield from any guy who wanted to know me, like me, or love me.

You could have called me the modern day Trina. Every chance I could get I would quote, “These n*gas ain’t shit!”

And you couldn’t convince me to believe anything besides that.

Every time I would walk in the mall, or even go to the club with my friends, my disgust for men grew. I sucked my teeth every chance I got when I seen a guy checking me out. I made sure to curve any line that was thrown at me by a gentleman, and I wouldn’t give even the most intelligent man the time of day. I only seen men as having one motive: To get off and get over.

And I was not going to be anyone’s next victim.

My bitterness seeped out of every pore in my body. You could smell my negativity from Indonesia. The ice box where my heart used to be was an all-new temperature- one that I couldn’t feel, and one that my body after a while, could not handle.

I put out into the universe anger, coldness, and negativity.

I found myself miserable for the following two years, letting my anger grow and take over who I really was and who I once used to be.

I let the actions of a bum corrode the true insides of me.

I burned the inner beauty that was once inside of me.

My heart began to thaw as the urge of love rocked my brain. I thought I was so dead set into being THEE ultimate independent chick, and not being able to be told shit.

And it kicked me square in the ass when I realized that I could have been blocking my blessings all along.

All of this at the tender, young age of twenty-two.

Yet I felt like I had the insides of a fifty year old.

After working my way back up the totem pole and getting reacquainted with the woman I used to be before my self-destruction, I met a man who would soon illustrate to me the beauty of what love can offer me.

And hell, he wasn’t even in Florida.

We’ll call him Suge.

Just think of a young, muscular Suge Knight if you need a mental representation.

I flew into Alabama for my best friend Nat’s 21^st birthday. She was having a kickback that Friday night, and would be inviting all her friends that she made and was cool with from her school.

I was enjoying the vibe and the music was jumping, until I seen something that could have made the DJ’s records scratch and stop spinning.

I happened to be chilling on the couch with a glass of something lovely in my hand, when a honey brown, tall, fresh cut, pearly white teeth, muscular built male walked through the function with his homeboy who just wasn’t as good looking as him.

I examined him from his shoes to the crown of his head, his diamond earrings in both lobes of his ear, his necklace shined into the darkness, and every dimension of him could have almost had me whipped.

Now I can be bold when I want to be, but I had to know who this stranger was that was up in this party with me.

I seen him chilling by himself with his drink of choice in his hand, and decided to break the ice. To my surprise, he was very reluctant and almost seemed uninterested.

Honey if it’s one thing I know how to do, it’s to take a hint.

I shrugged it off after a while and floated around the party, even sliding over to the DJ to request a few of my favorite tunes.

I met his continuing gaze as he watched me from the other side of the room, and he met me to where I was standing. We entered a good conversation, which then led to a great time musically as we danced together to a song or two. His country accent was digging into me… in a good way.

He could have said anything to me, and it would have been alright.

It was nearing two in the morning, and the party was starting to wind down. Before Suge left with his homeboy, he proceeded to tell me that he enjoyed the evening with me and that he hopes that I continue to have a great rest of my trip in Alabama. I warmly smiled and told him the same, thanking him for the wish of a great trip.

Right after Nat & I got our showers in and were headed to bed, her phone vibrated.

“Girl. Guess who texted me?” She said, surprised.

“Who, girl?” I said, wrapping my hair.

“Suge.” She grinned.

I chuckled. “Uh huh, well that’s your homeboy.”

“Hmm. Well my homeboy wants to give you his number.”

I spun my head back so quick I could have thrown my damn neck out. “Say what?”

“Yeah, I was checking yall out all night. Now I guess he wants to follow that up. But, he is cool. It wouldn’t hurt, Bree.” She said slyly.

“Yeah, okay.”  I looked at my phone. “Well, he’s gonna have to wait. Shit, it’s 3AM.”

 

Yall know I wasn’t going for that shit, right?

 

Nat & I woke up hours later to get dressed and head out to brunch. It was around 11:15AM, so I figured it was a suitable time to text Suge and see what was really good.

Heck, I didn’t expect to get a text back at 11:17AM.

The night was great, but I guess it was more than great to have him waiting by his phone just for a text from me.

Texting Suge all through brunch led us to texting throughout the whole day and evening. He knew it was my last night in Alabama.

But what I didn’t know is that he wanted to spend it with me.

My head was spinning like a whirlwind, and chile, I didn’t know what to do at first. I meet a guy one day, and he wants some more of me the next?

Hell, I could get used to this.

Nat was excited for me; probably a little more excited than me. Nat & Suge both lived on campus, so Nat volunteered to escort me over to Suge’s place and proceeded to give me a pep talk.

“He’s good people, charming, and sweet. And baby, that’s what you need.”

I swallowed rather hardly as I texted him and told him I was near. He was already outside, posted up on his white Chrysler 300, looking good as a country man could come.

When I entered the living room, incense was burning a vanilla honey scent, my favorite drink that I previously told him last night was chilling on ice, and since he played the saxophone, he had saxophone instrumentals to the latest tunes playing in the background. I even had seen a bag of one of my favorite potato chips- Lays. Most things that I previously said the night of the party were right in front of me.

Just when you think a man doesn’t listen.

Stimulating conversation was in the air, the electrifying vibrations between us only intensified as the time went on.

We talked, discussed, and even softly debated an array of topics that happened to be in our bubble of a hemisphere.

When the topic of relationships came up, I tensed heavily.

He looked right into what was left of my insecurities, as I wore my worry of this conversation right on my sleeve, and the deep echo of my sigh only illustrated that this was something I didn’t want to ruin the beautiful evening with. My “Bag Lady” tendencies could have been opened up wide like the TSA would do to examine me just to get through the airport gate.

And he was on to me.

My sudden timidness changed the aura of the room; his eyes pierced deeper into me as the reflection of the three candles lit bounced off my nose and lips. He was listening to me and watching my every move… and I finally spoke.

I didn’t reveal too much, but I must have revealed enough. The conversation of my failed date excursions must had fired up his soul to the point where he had to make a move on me.

And it wasn’t for the panties.

As I concluded my last thought on the subject, I sipped my drink slowly, examining how my hands were beginning to sweat.

He spoke softly. The baritone in his voice sent a chill from my mind to my love den. His hand came forward to my damp hand, and then on my right cheek. “You just need somebody who’s going to hold your face and look you in your eyes, without a twitch and without a lie, and tell you that if loving you is wrong… Then morally as man, I don’t want to be right.”

I could have melted like the wax of the vanilla scent candles he purposely lit up for me. What started as one hour grew into four, and I never expected an intimate moment like this to occur. I thought things like this didn’t happen for girls like me.

I didn’t know it really existed.

After closing my eyes for what seemed like a minute, I awoke at six in the morning, in the same spot where I laid, and Suge just a little distance away from me.

I called Nat to come and get me, even though he soon awakened and offered to take me. I declined because he had to be to work at 7:00AM, and his job at the power plant was a little ways away.

As we stood outside, he asked why did I have to return to Florida, and why couldn’t I attend his same university. He even asked if he could take me to the airport since my flight was leaving that afternoon.

It was then I knew that someone sweet as this, had to exist. I knew that there had to be other men that were as sweet as Suge, or maybe even sweeter.

I didn’t give this man much, but I left Alabama with what seemed of everything.

Our paths crossed simply to warp my mind on the fact that love can be innocent, and dating can be truthful, and that good men can actually be great to you. Suge gave me more mentally. Even though we did not pursue a long distance relationship, it is much more that he has impacted that maybe one day, he will know.

It was like Suge gave a jump to my car- that metaphorically being, my heart.

A jump on a new restored look on life, dating, and love.

By someone who was willing to give that to a damaged soul like me.

Ladies, if you have lived a life full of scorn like me, please believe that the scorn will not leave until it is you who makes it leave. There were so many men who wanted me, who wanted to know the inner depths of me, but I wouldn’t let them, because of the inner and ugly scorn of me. Caused by ME.

Ladies, how can we put into the universe that we want the man of our dreams, when it is us who blocks his every entrance of entering? No matter how many times I have been burned, it took every single burn to realize that there is a man who won’t give a damn how many times I have been lit on fire.

He’s gonna love each and every part of me.

But I have to let him.

Ladies, let him! We all can mess around and let the wrong one slip away just based off what we say, how we act, and what we keep putting back into the universe. I let my angry and bitter ways stop me numerous of times of finding someone to successfully date. I put the old nasty garbage bags from the old scumbags of humans in my life onto the lap of a fine young gentleman who just wanted to ride out with me.

You could wind up standing at your door of bitterness, demanding that the man of your dreams comes to you and saves you, but that door can’t be unlocked, even though your man on the other side of the door already has the key.

I can only slice it, dice it, and serve it in only a few ways. We can’t be demanding that our man in shining armor comes and then slap him with the pure bitterness of our souls. Don’t let the lack of love from the past mess up the possibility of love in your future. What you put out into the universe, is what you will receive. What I put out, is what I ATTRACT. Do you see the connection here?

There are many men who damage women, but who do you want to win? Don’t you deserve to win? You win by moving on, and loving again.

And again, and again, and again.

Look at me. I’m doing it.

I challenge you to dump the scorn and latch on to security. Security that your Suge, or whatever or whomever you want it to be, will be coming, and that he is on his way.

Only if you let him.

Love past the pain. Love past the scorn. Love past the brokenness that a  man has made you feel. You are a woman, you a warrior, therefore, automatically, you will always win.

In the words of Candace from Think Like A Man when she told Lauren about her own ways:

“All this waiting for better, is making you bitter.”

Which would you rather be? Waiting for the better or deterring your route with being bitter?

It all starts with self. Break it down within you.

After all, it could be you that’s blocking the pure bliss of a blessing of having someone you can call, your boo.

Live life and love it just the same, ladies & gents.

Until next week.

-Bree

You know the drill!

IG: salutemeorshootme_juicy

Twitter: @OhEmGee_SoJuicy

#TeaBreeAndBreathe #TBB

So Unpretty

Glad to serve my tea sippers once again this week.

You all went ballistic over “Bree’s Personal Tea: The Matrimony”! Yes, it is all facts, and yes, everything did go down just like that.

A few of you wanted to know where Q and Andrea are now. I don’t have an answer for that because I haven’t heard from the two since early January of this year.

I assume she has had her baby by now, and shoot, maybe they worked it out.

They can rejoice and be idiots together.

It is imperative to observe that Andrea lacked three characteristics that every woman, and man, should always keep intact:

Self-confidence, self-love, and self-worth.

(If you need a refresher of last week’s tea, feel free to read “Bree’s Personal Tea: The Matrimony” and return here.) 

With any strong woman or man, they weren’t always that strong to begin with. Experiences break you, make you, and mold you into the person you should, and most of the time, need you to be.

Sometimes, having your confidence, love, and worth in yourself makes the process a bit easier.

Let’s get into tonight’s raw brew of tea.

So Unpretty

 It all began in the third grade at Oak Grove Elementary in my hometown of Miami.

I already had the breast of a high schooler, with a grown woman’s set of hips to match. And my posterior was way too big for my own good.

But that was me. Uniquely me.

And I hated it.

My sight wasn’t all that great, so of course I had a pair of glasses on my young face. And when I smiled it sure was pretty, until you zeroed in into my buck teeth.

While most young kids didn’t come to their sense of identity at this age, I was already in tune with mine. I knew that what I seen in the mirror everyday was something I didn’t want to deal with for the rest of my life.

When most girls wanted the overdeveloped body I had, I wish I could cut it all off of me. I often wondered how painful it would be to cut my breast off with a pair of scissors just so I could live normally.

I was only 10, I didn’t deserve to have grown me starting at me like I was a piece of meat. Grilling me with their piercing eyes as my thighs would jiggle as I would power walk away from their eyesight.

Things couldn’t stay this way.

I got braces the summer before entering the sixth grade, and that wasn’t too bad. The beginning of my middle school era wasn’t entirely rough until I entered the seventh grade. I was teased for my curvaceous figure, often feeling like I needed to be skinny to be liked. To be paid attention to.

To be wanted.

I often always wore a jacket or a sweater to cover my enormous rack of a chest. I didn’t have time to be cussing every boy out when they could ask if they were real, or when they asked to touch them and most horribly, grab one and attempt to run away.

Back then, all I wanted was to fit into a nice Hollister shirt. I would walk by the store every time I went to the mall and wanted to cry, because my breast would not allow the shirt to fit me right.

A damn Hollister tee.

I always was a social butterfly, so making friends was never a problem. I had crushes here and there after my childhood sweetheart & I broke up at the end of sixth grade. My personality was loud, bold, and sometimes boisterous, and it would never allow to portray the illustration of how poorly I felt about myself, all because I valued other people’s opinion of myself, instead of, indeed, listening to & loving myself.

I was great at hiding my pain. I was excellent at hiding my low self-esteem.

Freshman year of high school at North Miami Beach Senior was a year to remember. Of course, my shape didn’t go anywhere, my breast only got bigger, and unfortunately, I caught the attention of upperclassmen that probably didn’t care what the heck my name was.

They just knew they had to have me.

I kept my distance, and kept my close girlfriends right up under me.

I finally got contact lenses within the first month of ninth grade, and my braces came off back in eighth grade, so my confidence really did improve. My style skyrocketed and I cared more about my appearance.

But my breasts were still a problem. I still wasn’t 100% in love with me, and it was still an issue.

It was in this time period I met my high school sweetheart.

We’ll call him Dread.

Dread was a sophomore who transferred from Booker T. Washington Senior. Our two and a half year relationship ended horrendously, but he has always had a soft spot in my heart (until earlier this year).

Dread & I had a very innocent relationship, and even though I felt comfortable with him, I never felt comfortable enough to share my deep issues with him.

Or no one, for that matter.

Only my momma.

For years because of my breast, I suffered excruciating back pain. So for years, my momma went back and forth with our health insurance to see if they would cover a breast reduction surgery.

For years, they said no. They considered the procedure to be “cosmetic”.

Nonetheless, my breast in a way, still did not get in my way of actually trying to enjoy my life. I was a flagette in my high school band, active in different clubs and organizations, and overall, I was a happy person. Being in the band helped me shed a few pounds; so once again, my confidence did start to increase.

Yet, the dark issue of totaling love myself was still eating at me.

I was in this relationship with Dread loving the hell out of him, but I didn’t care as much for me.

I hid all my insecurities so well that they end up overtaking me in the end.

Or maybe they began to show.

Dread eventually left me for an upperclassmen chick who was giving it up, even though he never pressured me. Not to mention, in the two and a half years of dating him, I found out he had a baby.

A two and a half year old baby at that.

My confidence that I had a “man” who was “loving me for me” shattered the shit out of me. I hit rock bottom mentally, and I was only left to pick up my pieces.

If I didn’t love me, how could he?

My life changed in June of 2009.

I was a month shy of my sixteenth birthday, and I finally got approved to get my breast reduction surgery.

It was then, after a week of healing after the surgery and going to my follow up appointment, is where I discovered that I was a new person.

“Here are your new breasts!” My surgeon exclaimed.

I raised myself off the table and looked in the mirror, and cried. I cried hard, but it was buckets and buckets of tears of joy, because it was then, at that moment, I could call myself beautiful for the very first time in fifteen years.

Isn’t that sad?

God finally answered my prayer. I felt so much better about myself, and I was able to rock my Sweet Sixteen dress that fit me gorgeously that next month.

And of course, many Hollister tees that I could rack up.

My relationship after Dread was a very close one to me. It began a couple of months before my senior year.

We’ll call him Quad.

Quad knew everything about me, even things I didn’t feel he was worthy of knowing. But “love” is something else, isn’t it?

It wasn’t until one day I overheard his homeboy asking him, “Don’t you go out with that fat hoe named Brittany?”

The confidence I once built for myself after damn near seventeen years, came crashing down.

Hell, my own man didn’t stand up for me.

All he did was chuckle and say, “Come on, man”.

I then began to wonder if everyone thought I was a hoe because of the way I was shaped. Like they just thought I got this body from being bodied.

They never thought to think about genetics.

I couldn’t make this man love me, protect me, or stand up for me.

I needed to love me, protect me, and stand up for me.

Red flags stood out to me later on in my college years, being in arguments with Quad and he would call me names. It came to an all-time high when I dated my last boyfriend, who we will address as Twan (you’ll hear more about him later), and how whenever he got the chance, he would meaningfully call me dumb and stupid, among other disrespectful terms.

Yet I was in college.

And as hard as I got it together and loved myself, whenever he said it, it would still hurt.

I didn’t love me hard enough. After all, I was still there.

Self-worth, ladies. 

What would ever make you think it is okay to let someone down you out any chance they got and believe that they loved you?

Do you love yourself enough to recognize that? To comprehend that and act on that?

I’m proud to say that after twenty-two years of living, I’m solid. After ridding myself from Twan and his verbal obscenities, I became Teflon. I became bulletproof. Yes, it was because of him that pushed me to want better for myself, but I needed that experience to be the woman that I am today.

If anyone knows the struggles of self-esteem, it’s me. Ladies and gents, it starts with self.

I will tell everybody and anybody, that before entering any relationship, it is imperative to have the contents of you together, molded, and healed.

If you view yourself as so unpretty, chances are, he will too. 

If a man calls you out your name, especially more than once, please recognize this isn’t love. This isn’t a way to keep you “in check”. That “in check” shit is disrespect. Recognize your self-worth and tell that sucker that it WON’T work. Stand up for yourself, preserve what you have of yourself, and MOVE ON.

No matter how long it takes, love the hurt out of you. Love yourself so hard that the hurt won’t have any choice but to run out of you. Stop comparing yourself to a woman who may be smaller than you l, and stop comparing yourself to a man who may have more money than you. The grass is NOT always greener on the other side. Appreciate what is in front of you! If everyone was to write down their complaints on a piece of paper and throw it into a hat, chances are, you would pick up your piece of paper back so quick after seeing what other people face and go through!

Why do you think you are exempt from loving yourself despite your flaws? How do you want a man to love you despite your flaws and the level of love from yourself and within yourself self is at a piss poor position? Ladies, get it together! Can’t nobody love you and treat you like YOU- I don’t care how much money he has and how much penis he may be slanging. You can mess around and invest all this love into a man and not into yourself, and if that same man leaves you, you won’t have a damn thing for yourself and nothing left of yourself. Invest that same time you would into a man, into yourself!

You’ll be surprised what people see in you that you don’t even see in yourself. There is a time in everyone’s life where you must self-check and evaluate yourself. That time may be NOW for you.

It doesn’t take overnight to get things together, but I put it on everything, it is worth it. To wake up confident in yourself, loving what you see, and knowing that you are worthy of the absolute best- it helps you get through the hard times easier.

Now don’t get me wrong, we all have our bummy days and where we feel butt ugly. That’s normal. But the difference is knowing not to bask into what may be a temporary feeling for that day. You better know that you are bad as they come! You stay preaching it to the next female and to the next negro who wants to get at you- preach that to yourself! Who are you really proving it for?

To this day, I have quotes written on the mirrors in my room. When I was at the lowest point of my life, reading and saying aloud those quotes is what got me through, along with the strong presence God has in my life.

Tell yourself, you are beautiful, even when you don’t feel it, even when you don’t believe it. Because one day, you will. One day you will see it, breathe it, and speak it. Put in that work to BE IT!

You believe everything a man tells you, don’t you? Then believe what you are telling yourself! Believe that there is beauty in you! And forget any man or woman who can’t see it within you. That’s not your job nor your worry.

I loved myself for the very first time at fifteen years old. I wish I could tell young girls all around the world that no matter how different you might seem to be physically, baby girl, you are beautiful. No matter if you are skinny, plus sized, buck tooth, cross-eyed, deaf, blind, pigeon toed, knot kneed, bowlegged, or you have an amputation.  It doesn’t matter if you grew up poor, rich, or if you are dealing with an illness. There is beauty in anyone and everyone, and it’s up to that individual to see it.

My momma always made sure to say she loved me and that I was the prettiest and most beautiful girl in the world.

It still took me fifteen years to open my eyes and see it. 

My breast reduction is what I needed medically, and I know plenty of ladies who are in dire need of one too. All I ask, is that before you go under the knife, find the beauty in YOU.

Don’t let the knife define you. 

Ladies and gents, be sure that it is you who defines you. With love, confidence, and self-worth all in between.

In the words of TLC,

“But if you can’t look inside you

Find out who am I too

Be in the position to make me feel 

So damn unpretty…”

Love goes a long way. Self-love is everything. Make your life filled with longevity, and beauty too.

I am a pretty raw and transparent person when it comes to self-confidence, self-love, and self-worth. I kind of see myself as an advocate for it. More so, because I have personally been there. Should you need any personal advice from me, I can be reached at teabreeandbreathe@gmail.com. I don’t bite, I promise 🙂

Until next week, my beauties. ♥

You know the drill!

IG: salutemeorshootme_juicy

Twitter: @OhEmGee_SoJuicy

#TeaBreeAndBreathe #TBB

Bree’s Personal Tea: The Matrimony

Welcome back, tea sippers. This week’s tea is particularly hot- and it might be tongue burning for some.
Have you all noticed that 2015 is the year of engagements and weddings? It’s a beautiful thing. But single dollar bills like me can’t help but notice how frequent and strong the love is flowing.
But how long could that love flow? Through the sunshine and the rain? Sleet, hail, or snow? Local or long distance? Half way across the world?
I’m sure all of the above is possible.
Question is, what would you do to maintain that love? Will you be a genius or a fool?
Let’s get into tonight’s brew.

Bree’s Personal Tea: The Matrimony

“Hmm, do I have any rice at the house? I know I have some pork n’ beans.” I spoke to myself softly as I grocery shopped in the Neighborhood Wal-Mart across the street from my apartment complex.
It was my usual routine to make a list of groceries I needed but I would always forget one or two things to add onto the list. As I was entering the can goods aisle, I couldn’t help but feel my back being pierced by gazing eyes, and not to my surprise, they weren’t gazing at me every time I turned around.
I shrugged and figured I would solve the puzzle to see who this exactly was who was peering deeply at me, or into me.
I knew I wanted to cook some pork chops that week, so I made my way to the meat aisle to find me a nice and inexpensive pack.
And there he was.
Somewhat slim but somewhat built, nice chocolate complexion, straight white teeth, a growing beard and a shiny bald head.
He was eye candy for me.
I was merely dressed in a UCF t-shirt, leggings, and some sandals, hair done and minimal makeup, but the way this young man seemed to dig me, I could have anything on.. Or maybe nothing on.

We’ll address him as Q.
If you know me personally, then chances are, you personally already know this story. For my newbies, read on.
Q was a 28 year old man from Columbia, South Carolina and had a little accent when he spoke. He wasn’t the first older man I had encountered but I must say he was the most interesting.
He served in the military for six years and had a, not so surprising, six year old son. Cute kid from what I seen from pictures.
It was now December and it was almost two months that Q and I were dating exclusively. Things seemed to be going well. Our first date was at City Walk, followed by a second date at Bubba Gump’s Shrimp Company, and then transitioned into a home dinner date while we prepared chicken pasta and garlic bread. Average to some, fantastic to a twenty-one year old.

Many of you are probably thinking that I didn’t have any business dating a twenty-eight year old. You call it “no business”, I call it “living experience”.
Him being seven years my senior at the time didn’t really have me tripped up. He was a good friend, good company, and someone I began to begin to trust. As hard as that is already to do.
I was already exposed to the “baby momma” type of guy long long ago, so dating someone with a child wasn’t exactly surprising to me. I didn’t prefer it, but after a while, I started not to completely rule it out.
I didn’t have to ask Q to text me, call me, come see me (well in this case, come see him– I don’t like guys in my home or my “sanctuary”) or to step his game up. His game was well up, well equipped, and for the most part, he could handle me.
I appreciated his talks filled with wisdom, but he still spoke to me as an equal. His hugs were warm and meaningful, and his forehead kisses made me melt.
Even though I didn’t see things exactly as long term with Q, nevertheless we still clicked, we kicked it, and shit was actually, sweet.
We would get into “debates” every now and then when his communication skills began to slip up, but it was nothing for him to correct his mistakes, which I began to admire after a while. Though it still was an issue, I rolled with the punches. I had to remember that quite frankly, he still wasn’t my man yet, but I needed him to act right if he was picked to be.
Before we left for our Christmas Breaks (he was traveling to South Carolina and I was going back home to Miami), we spent the whole night together, though I did not sleep over. I returned to my apartment around 3:00AM with a smile plastered on my face, because for once, I felt comfortable. I have a really huge personality, but layers of it can be sensual and sensitive, and I didn’t have to hide anything. I knew to never be too comfortable with anything, but for the time being, I could finally exhale.

It was now Christmas Eve, and it had been five days since we had spoken.
That’s called trouble in my world.
Of course my mind went through all the excuses. “Well, he is up there with family. Plus he is probably spending time with his son. Don’t trip, Bree.”
Those same thoughts turned into .38 Hot Thoughts.
“So this negros’s phone is broke now? You ain’t with family that much, my G. I know I done crossed ya mind at least 20 times by now. Uh uh, I ain’t fucking with his shit. It’s Christmas! ‘Tis the season to be damn jolly!”
I didn’t even receive a Merry Christmas text. But when I did, at 10:30PM, he added on, “My bad, my phone was in the car.”
My intuition spoke to me at first when these issues kept arising when we were both in Orlando.
I, however, put them on the back burner. I didn’t want to turn back into Bitter Bree and let the beast unleash.
When you talk to someone and kick it with someone every day, five days seems like a light-year away.
Things weren’t settling with me, and my intuition once told me again, “You’re about to be a dolla bill for real…”

It was now December 26th, the day after Christmas, and my mom and I were headed to Aventura Mall to catch some great sales.
I told my momma about Q and about the communication issues I was having with him. Me being the dramatic person that I am, I was gonna cut it off and let the shit go. Momma told me to do whatever I felt was best, but not to put anyone on a pedestal. She only saw us as “friends” anyway.
As soon as our conversation about men got deeper, my phone rang. At first, I didn’t recognize the number, but I knew it was from someone in South Carolina because of the (803) area code.
First instinct- it must be this sucker.
I paused the conversation to pick up my phone.
“Hello?”
I could hear noise in the background, but no one was speaking to me.
“Hello?” I said once again.
“You know what? I told myself I wasn’t gonna call you.” A voice dark and low responded.
It was the voice of a very distraught woman.
“Well, whom do I have the pleasure of speaking with?” I replied.
“I told myself…I told myself I needed to call you. But my sister said I shouldn’t have called you. But I called anyway.” The voice sounded eerie.
Puzzled, I replied. “Once again, who am I speaking with?” This was too spooky for me to just hang up right then and there.
She then began to grow angry. “Look, I just need to know if you’re sleeping with my man.”
I scoffed in surprise. “Girl, who is your man? And who the hell are you?” Her tone was allllll effed up. I started to yell, forgetting my momma was driving and sitting right next to me. She tapped me on the shoulder and tried to mouth out something to me, but I was too focused on this woman who was on the call.
“My name is Andrea. Look, bitch, are you with my man?”
As bad as I wanted to curse her right back, I never cursed in front of my momma. I clenched my jaws and then again, asked who this mystery man of hers could be. “Cause if you’re calling me, then maybe that’s not your man, baby.”
“Q!” She exclaimed over the phone. “Yeah, you know who that is, right?!”
I sneered. “Oh, that’s you?” I couldn’t help but to chuckle.
“My name is Andrea (insert her last name here), and I need to know if you have been fucking my HUSBAND!”
My mouth instantly dropped. It had been the first time that another woman had called my phone, but honey, I wasn’t ready for it to be someone’s wife.
“Your husband?” I asked, eyebrows raised.
“YUP, HUSBAND. We’ve been married for SIX YEARS!”
Six years… That little boy is six….
Bingo, bitch.
“Well, Andrea, your husband surely does not act like a married man.”
“Look.” She sighed. “I did not mean to come off the way I did. But I need to have a woman to woman talk with you and ask you some questions.”
“Ask away.” I replied quickly.
“Where did you meet my husband?” She started off boldly.
“The grocery store.” I stated nonchalantly.
“And are yall dating? Together? What?” She began to grow agitated.
“We were dating until you called me.” I snapped.
“Are you fucking him?”
I happened to be sipping on my Coca- Cola and clearly, I wasn’t expecting her to ask that question at that moment. I almost spat it out on the floor of the car when she asked me again.
“Are you FUCKING my husband?” She asked again with great emphasis.
“Nope, lil mama. That’s all you.” I replied coolly.
My responses were pissing her off but honestly, it was the truth.
“So I got your number from his Mac laptop. Yeah, all that shit syncs. I hope you knew that.” She snickered. “I see you all have been texting each other frequently.” Her tone was very sarcastic.
“Clearly.” I spat.
“And I see these little selfies yall took and shit. One of them was on someone’s couch. Was it at his place or your place?”
“His place. He’s not welcome at mine.” I stated.
“Yeah, the same place I pay rent at!”
I stared at the phone in disbelief. Your husband is in Orlando while he has you and his son in South Carolina going through God knows what and you’re paying his rent?
“Girl, what? What the hell are you doing in South Carolina then?”
“Q moved to Orlando to provide for his family. He wanted to go back to school down there. So we are making it work.”
“Girl, you sure? Cause he’s acting like he wants to start a whole ‘nother family down here.” I knew that that statement would probably enrage her, but I had no reason to lie to this woman. She wanted answers, she looked for answers, and therefore, she can have these answers.
“You just don’t understand! It’s hard having a marriage where you constantly have to call women about your man!”
“So you have been playing Inspector Gadget for six years? You’re crazy!” I exclaimed.

There was then a silence on the phone.
“When you have kids, it is difficult.” She spoke softly.
“And that’s not an excuse when you have thousands of single mothers who are out here doing the damn thing. Try again.” I told her coldly.
Her voice then began to break, while she started to sniffle.

This lady was now crying.
“I can’t take this shit! I do not deserve this! I am pregnant with his daughter right now!”
I seriously thought all of this was a joke. Me, a twenty-one year old, dealing with some holy matrimony shit like this? And then you let this man bust a nut in you with his cheating ass and now you’re pregnant? Excuse my rawness, but I need you all to see this and vividly paint a picture of it!
And get this; Andrea was thirty-two years old. 32.
What do I look like giving a thirty-two year old woman the real?
“Andrea…” I tried my best to console her while being truly sincere. But she asked for this woman to woman talk, so I have to deliver.
“You need to gather what’s left of your self-worth, get your kid, and get out of this bullcrap marriage you’re suffering yourself in. And don’t tell me nothing about them sappy vows because obviously they don’t mean squat, and they probably never did in the six years you were with him. Are you not better than this?”
I tried my best to step in her shoes and understand her and her illogic. The fact of the matter is, I didn’t have sympathy at all. Not for a weak woman who would let this man run up and down state borders to disrespect her and their “marriage” and for her ass to stay right with him.
She continued to sob in my ear as my momma was whispering, “What is going on?” I told her to hold on as I was beginning to wrap this conversation up.
“Well, I thank you for this conversation.” She responded when she got herself together.
“I hope that you realize what is true, blue, and right in front of you. If I wasn’t the first woman you had to call, I won’t be the last. Take care of your mind, spirit, soul, body and your unborn. Carry and grab back your crown, girl.”
“Thank you.” She replied, and hung up the phone.
Barbara and Shirley, for sure.

I spent the rest of that day pondering, “How the fuck didn’t I know this man was married?” I couldn’t help but be mad at myself because I thought I ignored clues, when truth is, he didn’t leave any out for me to question.
He was that damn good.
But I couldn’t help but kiss my index and middle finger and shooting it up to the sky at God, thanking him that I dodged another bullshit bullet.
I’m built like Teflon, but it did hurt at first. It knocked me out of my element. It still seemed to prove that some negros ain’t worth shit. But I know better to know that one of them, one day, will be.

I know you all wished that you could have been a fly on the wall when I delivered the news to Q.
Let’s just say… It was a remarkable experience. It seriously goes down in the books.
He pleaded that it was nothing, and that they were separated, and she didn’t give him what he needed. That the marriage went downhill when he came back from overseas and she pawned the $2,000 engagement ring he bought her, let alone not sleeping with him, and not being such a “wife” to him.
Whatever side was truth or lie, it didn’t matter to me. The damage was done as soon as Andrea called me.
What’s done in the dark always comes to the light.
And for that I am thankful.
What made matters worse… I found out that this woman was my sorority sister.
Go figure.

Most young ladies might have always wondered or continue to wonder how it is to date an older man.
Many dream about them actually having his stuff together, nice job, his own place… real established. I can say there might be plenty of twenty-eight year olds who may have it all together, but don’t think just because he’s older, that he actually acts that way.
In my case, I had a twenty-eight year old full of shit like a one year old’s pamper.
If you go the older route ladies, don’t be fooled. There could be a twenty year old out there who would do you just right. Age means nothing in this day and age.

Ladies, who are like me, don’t get completely knocked off your feet when tragedies as these occur. I believe that women can love past their hurt. I am one of them, too. No one is exempt, no matter how low a man may try to kick me- someway, somehow- I still believe.
Ladies like Andrea, stop wearing these flimsy thongs you sport around and put on your BIG GIRL panties. No man is ever worth your self-worth and respect. And once you allow him to defy you of that, he will never treat you the same way. A man will only do what you allow him to do. Now, I have never been married, and never been close to it, but I can personally say for myself, that I will never be in a “marriage” like Andrea. How could you allow this man to disrespect you as a woman, disrespect the love you are providing to him, disrespect the union you have, and you continue to let him right back in? Not to mention, right in between your legs? Why would you bring a child into this? What good has he done for you to bless him with yet another human being to call his own? Look at what she is doing to her son- he can once learn that the things his father does is okay. And what about her unborn daughter? What type of example are you showing her? How to be a weak woman? How to let a man break you? Showing her that no matter what he does, it’s alright because a “real woman in a marriage” is gonna stay?
And for men like him, raising little boys and little girls without peering at how fucked up you are first- wouldn’t you think to clean up your act? Be the best example of a man to your child or children! It’s men like this who ruin it for little girls & little boys which makes them morph their mindset of what love is!
I don’t have all the answers, but tea sippers, I have two things- wisdom and experience. Vow to love yourself through the hurt and pain. Self-love goes a long way, ladies and gentlemen. I don’t care how good he may treat you, how much he spends on you, and how good the sex might be. Vow to put yourself first. Never neglect you. Cause at the end of the day, when everything is shattered and gone to pieces, all you have is the contents of you. Not anyone else. Preserve that, and protect that.
In the words of Rihanna, “Never a failure-always a lesson.”

Hope you all learned one, too.

IG: salutemeorshootme_juicy
Twitter: @OhEmGee_SoJuicy
#TeaBreeAndBreathe #TBB
Share your thoughts on tonight’s tea.

The Comeback: Unavailable, Uninterested, Undateable

It’s been awhile, guys.

Two years to be exact.

Many of you wonder why I stopped writing, stopped blogging, and virtually, just stopped everything.
To be honest? It was a fear of mediocrity. And a horrible case of writer’s block. I didn’t want my material to bore the same readers that I used to amuse and enlighten. Life came into play- some chapters of it flying at me faster than I could actually catch it. It happens.

I needed growth.

Two years ahead, in 2015, after much urging from my family, my friends, my readers, and most importantly- myself- I am ready to return. I am ready to pick up the pace and get back into my passion of blogging; my passion of writing.

Of course, many things have happened from 2013 up until 2015. Here and there I might make a reference, but I am pleased to be back in the present and get certain things that have been on my mental, out to you all.

My passion restarted, starts now. Hope you get back into the groove and enjoy.

Unavailable, Uninterested, Undateable

“Damn, his vibe is so right. Like, girl, it’s been awhile since I could kick back and show someone the real me. I mean no boundaries, a few set limitations. It’s in the perfect place. It’s still in the same spot as “Let me kick back and tell this negro what’s really wassup” because I feel so comfortable around him, but still feel like “Ooh shit, I got butterflies!” cause my phone’s ringing and he’s calling me. You ever felt like that? I mean you could just tell that the bond, no matter what would happen after, would just be there forever? I mean, regardless if we never enter a relationship, and we never get past a friendship, that shit would still be lit? It’s an amazing feeling. After all the shit I have been through, I don’t wanna lose this. Nah, not this time, girl…..”

I think every teenager, young lady, or grown woman can relate.

You meet a man who you just instantly click with. Without any preliminary feelings of a high level of like or possibly love, you feel as if you meet a good friend. A great friend. Someone you could see, talk to, kick it with, skate with.. Do everything with. You talk sun up to sun down, thinking “Damn, I don’t ever want this to end.”

You think that after a while, you may be in too deep, but the bond was too strong for you to even care. As long as he was there to either greet your day or commence your night, it was all good on your side. You were in there.

Dates come into play, and you know he is paying. Physical touch of hands and interlocked fingers has your heart swaying. And you’re still thinking “Damn, this is too good.”

Or you could be that woman thinking, “Damn, this is too good to be true.”

But it’s been a while since you could hang around someone just as cool as you, maybe, even cooler.

But as a woman -or maybe it’s just me- throughout all of this, I learn to keep my feelings in check. Yeah, sure, I love to go with the flow like the next chick, but see, maybe that next chick doesn’t have a high running mental like me. A two steps ahead of you mental like me. The looking and analyzing you efficiently mental like me.

Let me proceed.

It’s essential for women who run like me to keep our feelings in check because as easy as it was to say yes when he asked you to kick it, could be as easy as your heart screaming yes when your mind asks, “Am I falling for this dude?”

Don’t get it twisted. I have never been afraid of something turning into commitment. But throughout my 22 years of living, with douches and slime balls in between, I can tell you one.. or two things.

1. Keep your feelings in check.
2. Establish what is before you fall into it.

Sure, why can’t I relax? Why can’t I see where it goes? Why must I ask so many questions? Can you not go with the flow?

Because I’m a woman. I’m a woman who is familiar with the scorn. I’m a woman who does not care or long to return to that scorn.

Most importantly, I am woman who knows what I want.

I do not knock spontaneity, but everything with me cannot always be a surprise.

You see, I say all of this because as women, it is important to know what you already want when it comes to a man. When it comes to a friend who, shit, could possibly become that man you longed for. What fucks it up, is men who cannot do the same. And most importantly, won’t be honest and real about it either.

Let’s hit my 3 points in the title of this blog.

Unavailable. When a man becomes unavailable, what is a woman’s first thought? Most likely, it could go one of two ways. Either a rational thought which could possibly later on turn into an excuse (if abused): “Oh, you know he does have two jobs so he could support himself, okay, it’s cool” or an overreacting thought: “Nah, something’s up. Now all of a sudden he ain’t got no time for me. What’s up with that shit?” I would be lying on everything if said I never thought of both of these reactions when a man tells me he isn’t available. Sometimes, I think worse things than that. What is important to consider is, you know, when you were actually getting to know this man, did you know what was already on his plate? Examples could be school, like law school or med school, him having multiple jobs to support himself, him having a child or children, his limitations because of the law, etc. Now, considering what is on that plate of his, how much of it are you willing to handle? Put up with? If you’re a woman like me who requires quality time, this could be problematic. However if you are also an understanding woman like me, you can foresee compromise. How many times can this man be unavailable to you before you realize that maybe you are too available to him? How many times can he cancel before you decide to cancel him? And okay, let’s say you aren’t the old fashioned type- you are in the new age where the man does not always have to, or rarely, initiate things with you. How long will that last, sistah? I bet your next complaint would be “Why can’t he just act like a man?” Not saying that just because this man maybe told you no a couple of times, that means he isn’t a good man, or that he is not interested. What I want to share exactly is that no matter what a man has on his plate, he will invest into what he deems worth it. That requires time and availability. Will you be put on the schedule this week, or shall we reschedule for another month?

Uninterested. Honestly speaking, the lack of quality time will surely create a lack of my interest in you. And this section does not apply to anything long distance, because that is totally a different situation. Momma always told me that a man interested will pay you some mind, and pay you some attention. With that being said, I hardly ever did anything to get a man’s attention, unless it’s a direct hit, one on one, loud and verbal, something close to a cat call, but just a little more subtle, and throughout it all, I’ll make it just a tiny bit obvious that I may want you. That’s more likely when I’m feeling a little bold, and I must admit, it makes some of you men uneasy. Back to the program, I can almost assure you- and this goes for men and women- the lack of availability will lead to a lack and/or loss of interest. I guarantee you. How long can you flashback to the time yall went out to Cold Stone for ice cream, and you haven’t seen that man in two months but he lives down the street? How long will you re-read text messages to re-feel that feeling of butterflies and bubble guts like everything is peaches and candy when he hasn’t contacted you in about a week? The lack of availability will always determine your level of interest. So sit by the window or by the phone, girlfriend, if you want to. Ain’t nobody that damn busy but the President, and hell, he still makes a way. If that man wanted to see you, he would make some sort of time for you. And if he made time for you, now you probably wouldn’t be staring at your phone, now would you? You wouldn’t be questioning his interest, let alone yours, now would you? Check yourself!

Undateable. Figured out the equation yet? Unavailable+ Uninterested= Undateable. If a man or woman (let me not totally discriminate against my male readers) does not set that available time they have for you, it will cause a decrease in your interest, which is also a decrease on their interest because if they were interested, their availability would be more present, which leads to that male or female simply being undateable. Sure, you can choose to be friends with a guy you like that you would want to kick it with frequently, but he can barely give you time every two months. As long as you can understand those terms, then hey, it’s cool, mama. Keep those feelings in check though. Don’t dream about more when your reality is right in front of you. You make that negro dream about YOU and the next time he can kick it with YOU. Ladies, do not forget that all of this is a privilege! If you know this man you’re involved with is unavailable, understand that he is most likely uninterested or not that into you, so why would he be worthy enough to date? Honestly speaking, a man could never be my man if he doesn’t reverse this equation. He needs to be available (he better still go to work, take care of priorities, and make time for me), which illustrates his interest (and will increase mine) which equals that he is possibly worthy to date me (because of course, this equation isn’t the only thing you have to master before I exclusively agree to be yours). Take your crowns back, ladies. Any man is lucky to have you, and if he is such a narcissist where he feels that he is “the oh so worthy” one, cross a line through that dumb dump of slimy sloth trash. A real man won’t stay sleep on you for long. As long as I am still waiting, I know yours is on the way.

So ladies, before you think that potential guy you been kicking it with occasionally could be something just a bit more, remember this equation: The Triple U equation, if you want it proper. And within that, always remember to keep your feelings in check. There is no worse feeling than misleading yourself. Before you fall, make sure that mummafrucka is willing to catch your ass! Baby, I have many bruises on my rump to prove this! And secondly, establish what it is before falling into it. Ain’t nothing worse than trying to paint a picture on an imaginary canvas. Don’t you ever invest all of you until that man has proved he is worthy for you to do so. That man better knows what he wants, and baby if he hasn’t have the slightest clue, cross a line through that confused sack of brains of a scaredy cat. Tell him to go and get it together, and grow up while he does it.

Feel free to leave a comment on the blog, on my Instagram (@salutemeorshootme_juicy), and/or shoot me a Tweet (@OhEmGee_SoJuicy) using the hashtag #TBB or #TeaBreeAndBreathe.
Hope you enjoyed, my sweeties. This isn’t the last of me this time, I promise.
Kisses! ♥

TEA OVERLOAD!

I know y’all mad at me. I know, I know.

I got more hours at my job (THANK YA BABY JESUS) so ya girl has been out here getting it. But nevertheless, I have a ton of tea to spill. Let’s get straight into it.

 

Last time we spoke, I caught buddy (Mr. NC to be exact) in the Red Toyota lurking in these Orlando streets. That’s cool. But it’s what came after that; That next week that almost made me believe that Ashton Kutcher was personally punking me.

 

So that next week, I traveled back home to Miami since the summer semester ended, I was a little homesick, and school would be starting right back up that following week. I’m lounging around at my grandma’s house, getting ready to go ahead and doze off on the couch since I already put her to her nap, and BUZZZZ! “Maybach Music!” I hear my text tone go off and to no avail, but pretty much surprising, it was Mr. NC.

 

August 12th, 2013 4:21PM

*insert MUGSHOT here* Yes, HIS mug shot.

“Hey I’m just getting out today. My GPS was acting up. I had to sit in jail until the new order of GPS trackers came in. I’m sorry if you felt like I was ignoring you. I thought about you the whole time and what you thought of me…I hope you can understand what happened and forgive me.”

Wait.

 

Oh.

I must have stupid written all over my damn forehead.

Let’s break this bull down.

Having a family in the law enforcement field (parents included) and once having a boyfriend who was in legal trouble which resulted in him wearing a “GPS tracker” urbanely known as a house arrest bracelet, you think you can run this sh*t on ME?

Every time one of my mother’s client’s ankle bracelets would “act up”, she would have to report to that client for validity of the situation, and with the computer systems they use, they know when their box is acting up. There is no “throwing someone in jail because it doesn’t work”. With all the criminals in the country, you think they’re gonna throw every mofo in a cell because their bracelet doesn’t work???

So for this disrespectful imbecile to run some idiotic crap on me like I’m a gullible little adolescent was him trying my intelligence and my life.

But the story gets better.

So since it was declared that this was 100% bafoolery, I decide to go on to good ol’ www.mugshots.com to see what this charge really is, or was, in this case.

I type in his name, which I will keep disclosed, and oh.

That person doesn’t exist.

 

So after making multiple attempts and switching around letters in his name, I finally food Mr. NC under a different name.

So not only are we lying about going to jail, we’re lying about our identity? Okay!

 

When I first met him, I do remember him telling me that he got into some “huge fight” at Downtown Orlando and end up punching someone in the face. So I’m assuming that would be the charge that would reflect upon his record.

 

You know what Detective Bridges found?

 

A domestic violence charge.

But get this..

 

It happened a week before I met him.

 

Boy, IF GOD AIN’T GOOD!!!!!

After all of this, I have been communicating with someone who lied about virtually anything. More than just dishonestly. More than the ultimate disrespect. You text me with some bull, and send me a mug shot that was taken it June but you try to make It seem like it’s from July? Like I didn’t see you in your female’s car the week before? You lie about your name, you lie about your record, what you were locked up for, lied about your relationship situation, and you expect me to CONTINUE TO PERSUE something with you?

To think this stranger “attends” my school, works in my neighborhood, and if he was crazy enough, could find out where I stay! I have to feel threatened of my life now?!

Is this what it comes to? Do I have to sit up here and do a background check on every muthasucka I meet? Has this generation gotten so corrupt where it is filled with little boys lying, putting on, and literally living ANOTHER life, just to achieve something they “want”? For clout? For status?

For a long time, I wasn’t sure if I wanted it anymore. I let the time pass and I continued to work on myself, and the past demons that were trying to levy down on me. I know I wanted to continue being the trustworthy woman I used to be.

 

Until one day, God touched my heart and worked his magic…

 

And let’s say, I think a great one has landed in my lap.

I’d like to say that we are moving things in “Turtle Time”, because any f*ck up could result in major consequences, especially on my behalf. Learning the true in’s & outs of myself first helped enormously, and now we can learn & work together in this stage.

But I refuse to let anything from my past ruin my future. I am a woman standing strongly at twenty years old, and my life isn’t over. I deserve way more that was ever thrown at me, and I….and he, are working towards that.

 

Ladies, take my mishaps into consideration. I only get deep because I don’t want these same wounds to cut YOU deep. It is often seen that women will see this misfortunes happen to other women, but will ignore all the signs. I get real, I get personal, and most of all, I get blunt with all of my readers so that they can feel an experience that they may, or may not have been through, and will whole heartedly give them every bit of motivation that way it is NOT a chain effect.

Who will be the one to protect your heart? Who will be the one you can ultimately trust with it? If you just made a list, and you and/or God wasn’t on the very top of it, it’s time for your to have a decent reality check and GET YOUR LIFE.. along with your heart that you could potentially poison.

Get your mind right, ladies.

Every boy isn’t a man, and every man won’t tell the truth. Every man isn’t a good one, but a real man will prove the opposite of it all, to you.

 

Last but not least, here are some great inspirational words by my girl, Miss Taylar! You’re guaranteed to love it! Feel free to follow her on Twitter: @GiveMePearls !

 

Who’s In Control of the Dating Scene?

I would say that we as women allow things, creating the dating world we live in and then put the men right in control.“Boys” (excuse my aforementioned statement- they are not men) have games that they play but would the games be that effective if women did not go along with them? Number one:  Don’t listen to those “friends” who tell you, “That’s just how it goes..” because it’s NOT. They’re the ones being easy, which makes it hard for you.

 Some women (I always say “some” because there are exceptions), allow men to have sex with them with no strings attached. I know for a fact that we are not that numb with our feelings. If you are, then baby have a seat, and let it go.  You may be in that position from allowing these games to go on.  And don’t tell me you like a guy who “doesn’t really pay you any attention”. What’s to like about it? You’re playing yourself!

Oh, oh, oh! And DO NOT think that even though he is ‘round here talking to so many, that you may be the one that makes him cut off the rest.  Don’t be a button on that game controller.

Please please please, do not let that sex get to you because that sex game is a hard one to win.

Nobody you “talk” to would go more than three days without talking to you if they were serious. That’s the attention control game.  Thinking about where he takes you and what y’all do every time y’all together… Have your relationship defined.  

 

Don’t you think that if nobody allowed that type of behavior“boys” would still try that route? We create this stuff. From the beginning of time, women have created the expectations that men had to fulfill to get the “goods”. When I say this, women, I’m talking about taking the dating and sexual revolution back.  We can have demands, and yes, we do have the goods.  Every woman should have their own little rule book. Create yours.

Bluntly speaking, do not have sex first and try to make demands later. Pretty sure he won’t care late and I don’t care to hear about it.

I’m not screaming feminism; Let him be the man and act like the lady. If you are looking for committed relationships, you must nip it in the bud now. Boys who play games just grow to be over grown boys still playing games.

Oh, and ladies, don’t be trying to play games either. They are just created to try to beat men at their game. Do you ever really win? Just stop being the girl they are looking for and be the woman they may need.

TEA RECOVERY!

The Hiatus has CEASED, baby!

I’m back, I’m back, I’m baaaaaack.

Quick update on me: After spending these six weeks having two jobs and taking three classes, ya girl made 2 A’s and a B. Boy I don’t wanna hear anybody telling me about my ambition!

 

Now, let’s get to this tea. Get two cups, because this is bound to spill over!

 

Mr. X: The Sequel

So in my first “Tea Testimony”, I put you all up on game with someone I used to know; we’ll still call him X. Now keep in mind, this mofo attends the same university as me. But you would think in a sea full of diverse individuals, it would be hard to see him or spot him, right?

 

WRONG.

When I got off of work, I see him.

When I go to my second job, I see him.

If I’m studying in the Union, I see him.

If I go get a freaking scantron, I see him.

 

Like damn! You keeping tabs on me? Is this why some people don’t date others that attend the same institution as them?

It’s to the point where I was walking out the damn BATHROOM and he almost bumped into me.

Now every time we encounter each other, he looks the other way. That’s guilt, baby.

I’m taking care of business for my second job and I see he’s walking my way because the girl I was with was someone he went to school with. So I’m like, “I know… good and well… He is not carrying… He is not walking… His black as-“

As soon as he sees that it’s me who’s sitting with his friend, he does a total 360 and nearly bumps into a smart little shawty with the coke rimmed glasses and braces and makes her drop all her books that were in her hand.

My presence is that strong huh? Clown….

 

BUSTED!

So yall already know who my ace boon coon is…

 

He’s pretty spiffy in that picture, hann?

I just don’t understand why men lie so much. I also don’t understand how men continue to be blind to the fact that women will always find out.

Alright, so long story short, I met someone at the grocery store. Yes, shopping it all up at Neighborhood Wal-Mart, twisting my hips through the aisles securing a vivid smirk on my face, handling my grocery duties. We began to converse.

Now I have a pretty good memory. Especially when it comes to people.

As I was walking out the grocery store, he walked me to my car but I noticed that he walked past his car just to walk to mine. That car happened to be a red Toyota Corolla, with a UCF tag, and plenty of stickers that would be notable to the human eye. Keep this point in mind.

After a couple of days of speaking to this individual (we’ll call him NC), we were having a pretty random conversation, and the topic of cars came up. Now I assumed that the red Toyota was his whip, but he told me that was one of his roommates’ cars, who he mentioned was white. He mentioned that his car was at home but he took his roommates car to go to the store. Keep this point in mind as well.

Now the old me would have been like, “Ummmm… ” But I don’t know him well enough to start calling him a liar, so I’m cooling. Okay, cool, whatever.

Fast forward, NC & I fall out, due to mysterious circumstances. Nope, it’s pretty clear why… Inconsistency. Not surprised. Wonder what caused it. (Sarcasm.)

But just the other day, just my LUCK, I was riding around with my roommate Neek. We’re out getting some things for our apartment. So we’re ridin’ round & literally we’re gettin’ it as we got the music going and we’re acting like idiots in the car. My whole world stopped in slow motion as I seen the same red Toyota that NC claimed was his roommate’s. I’m very in tune with my intuition, so something told me, damn near URGED me to examine who was in that car at the stoplight.

The driver was a young black woman.

Alright, Bree. Look at who’s in the passenger seat?

 

None other than Mr. NC.

 

Well ain’t that some sh*t? As I’m rubbing my eyes to make sure that that indeed wasn’t a white male and that it was indeed NC, he caught my glaze.

And baby when I say he made a surprising, baffled, flustered expression on his face like the average man on “Cheaters”, it was a wrap.

I didn’t have to say a word. His expression did all the talking.

You see where guilt will get you?

I don’t think that Joey Greco could have done a better job than me when it came to “busting” him.

You weren’t my man, and I didn’t demand that nor push for it. But I do demand for you to be a man, especially when I invest my time into you.

You got an ol’ lady at home? That’s ya business. OWN IT. FLAUNT IT. KILL IT. LOVE IT. JOOK IT. BOP IT. WORK IT. FLIP IT. DIP IT. POP IT. TWERK IT. STOP IT. CHECK ON IT TONIGHT.

Just don’t let me find out about it and when you hit my phone saying the opposite.

Men, OWN UP to your dishonesties. I’ll have more respect for you.

Another one bites the dust….. Haha.

 

I could go on & on about consistency, but I’ll just leave you with these points:

• It’s happening way too much
• It’s happening with all men, with all types of men
• It’s getting to the point where men become so comfortable with inconsistency, that they believe it is okay to be a “floating” individual, i.e.; coming in & out of someone’s life when THEY feel like it.
• Certain men don’t use the telephone to communicate; they are all about texting, which ultimately leads to a lack of correct communication. Because I don’t care what anyone says, you cannot get to know someone solely from damn text messaging.
• In addition to communication, telephone calls become less frequent if they even begin to start.
• There are no follow up’s from men once they have met someone, and the same goes for women. What ever happened to being aggressive? Did you not approach the person for a specific reason?
• And the worst: If  a man goes out of his way to retrieve your number, and is hardly being consistent to begin with, what was the real motive of even having the number? As a bet? To show off? To prove that you still “got it”?

What is life?

If there is no consistency, there is no true chemistry.

 

First Date FAIL

Earlier this week, I took myself out to lunch at Red Lobster (my favorite restaurant) as a celebration for everything that I accomplished this summer. Needless to say, it was a great way to have some well-deserved “Me Time”.

Now the hostess seated me at a table where there was this couple (they looked like freshmen) who were conversing and seeming to have a great time in each other’s company. The young lady also mentioned that she was enjoying her first date ever. 

I can understand her though. I went on my first date ever back in May.

I’m minding my business, enjoying my food and occasional conversations on Twitter. When the waiter comes with their check, what I overheard almost made a string of pasta fly past my inferior nasal concha.

“I really like you. Like, I really like you. But do you think we could split the bill? Please? I really like you and I know I really really owe you.”

Now this dumb as-

I mean young lady……… slowly but surely agrees to his request, after hearing him plead about how he was sorry that she would have to come out of her pocket to pay for her first date ever that YOU asked her on.

I couldn’t believe that I was witnessing this obviously naïve young lady take out her wallet to find her bank card.

Now as I observed the dude looking at the check, the next words that came out of his mouth was despicable.

“Listen, you deserve to slap me. You do. But do you think you could cover the check? I really balled out on Saturday and I’m lower than expected. I owe you. I really like you. Like, for real I do. I promise I will make this up to you. You should really slap me.”

I know one thing; he would have had to explain that to them dishes in the back in the kitchen, because that’s the only one who would be understanding of his “situation”.

Evidently she wasn’t going to slap him, SO CAN I???

So, I’m expecting homegirl to let him have it, to go ahead and tell him about himself, you know?

This girl.

Gets.

Her.

Bank card.

OUT.

And puts it.

Right next.

To the check.

So the waiter.

Could come and get it.

 

SO YOU MEAN TO TELL ME, THAT IN 2013, WOMEN WHO ARE ASKED OUT ON DATES, WHEN A MAN ASKS THEM OUT ON A DATE, MUST PAY FOR THEIR DATE?

IS THIS WHAT THE DATING WORLD HAS COME TO?

Now my momma raised me to be the type of woman to ALWAYS have cash on them, just in case a mofo gets out of pocket.

But paying for the WHOLE date, when YOU asked ME to go on a date with YOU at RED LOBSTER, BECAUSE YOU DON’T HAVE ANY MONEY?

 

BUT YOU GOT ON GUCCI????????

 

I’M DONE! I couldn’t even feel sorry for that young lady because THAT is what she stood up for! Baby, if that is what you are gonna do to keep these “men” around, then you are FOR SURE going to be a lonely woman. Not alone, but LONELY.

So now just because we “like somebody so much” we let these major concepts in dating SLIDE?

 

Then hell, I don’t need to date.

 

Seriously, what has the dating world come to? WHAT IS DATING? PLEASE ENLIGHTEN ME!

Am I mistaken?

My formula: Man + Asks woman out = HIS PAY.

 

NOW, it is different if you are TOGETHER and you DECIDE that you want to pay for your man. THAT IS DIFFERENT.

But if we are on a date, we’re trying to get to know each other, we’re trying to see if we’re compatible, and I’M supposed to pay?

 

NOT. IN. THIS. LIFETIME.

 

Call me old fashioned but that is NOT how it goes. 2013 has you men REALLY bugging out! These fallacies that you men are absorbed by DISGUST me.

Lord, HELP the man who EVER tries me in this matter. Lord, you know my heart, and most certainly of all you know my anger….

I used to think that it was me as the problem when it came to dating.

That whole ordeal proved my theory wrong.

Men must take the responsibility as well. And whenever I become a mother, I will make sure than my son/daughter will know BETTER.

 

But in reality, the only thought I have left to say is…

 

 

 

THE TEA SERVER IS HERE!

Don’t fret, ladies & gents. TBB isn’t going ANYWHERE.

To be quite honest, this is nowhere near a summer vacation for me.

Baby has two jobs, taking three classes, and has become a total Anatomy nerd.

On the bright side, there’s only two more weeks left until this chapter is over and I can take another vacation. Meaning, that will be more blogs for YOU!

Bear with me, love bugs. Baby gotta GRIND out here, too!

 

In the meantime, here are a couple of photos from my birthday weekend!

I’ll have some hot tea brewing REAL soon!

 

❤

TEA TESTIMONY!

THE FIRST TEA TESTIMONY!

“WHEN THE FIRST DATE GOES WRONG!”

Now my fellow tea sippers, I am stepping to the stove to serve yall some real word this evening. Now, now, I-I know that there will be many experiences in life, amen? A-a-a-and with these experiences, come lessons, amen? Now what type of tea server would I be if I didn’t spread these lessons to my tea sippers? Na-Na-Nah that wouldn’t be right! So today, ladies and gentlemen of the Tea Sipping Congregation, I give you, My Tea Testimony!

Alright. Let’s keep this thing OG. Ya girl is starting to venture out and dare I say it… meet new people! As self-sufficient as I was (and still am), I wouldn’t really give anyone the time of day. But chile, LOOK AT ME, exploring more than Dora!

So I met this guy, chile.. We’ll call him…. X.

Now I know yall looking for me to spray him real good. I ain’t that type of chick, but my experience is just too funny to keep to myself.

To sum the beginning of this horrendous yet hysterical adventure, we met one random day in person and started talking for a couple of months, just as friends. Nothing serious, nothing major. But you know how you “plan” not to go any further with someone, but you kinda do anyway?

That’s what happened.

Now, X and I were supposed to be going out. He told me to choose the restaurant of my choice and then we would catch a movie. Okay, sweet. I finally tell him my decision on where I would like to eat (I won’t disclose it for exposing reasons, but it was NOT anywhere expensive). On the other end of the receiver, this is what I hear.

“Uh, how much is it? ‘Cause I’m on a budget.”

*inserts 0_0 emoji here*

Um, say what? If you’re on such a budget, why did you ask me out to begin with? If you were really “budgeting”, why would a date be on your list of priorities? If you were on a budget, then YOU should have picked the place.

Red flag…

Now I found this a bit insulting.

*T.I. voice* Let’s be clear.

• I don’t need you to take me out.
• Therefore, don’t you ever feel obligated to do so.
• I handle my own.
• Come correct when you step to me about my time and my business.

So of course, with the mouth I have, an argument arises.

I go on and on about how I felt like that comment wasn’t necessary and told him how it made me feel. Of course, with those mortals known as the opposite sex, they always want you to drop it.

I, my friend, am not a dropper.

Shoot, sometimes I will beat that dead horse until its spirit ascends and I’ll beat it dead again.

Let’s just say… we both got our points across.

I take a minute to cool off after he “checked” me (which is still hilarious to me), and decide to just get ready.

So you know I got my music up, singing and dancing as I’m ironing and getting ready to head out.

Now ladies, yall know about that women intuition that we all have..

I am VERY in tune with mine.

My gut told me to call him and to confirm that we were going. I had a feeling that something just wasn’t right.

My fears were confirmed.

 

“Well, after buying some things for my place, I don’t have as much cash as I thought. Can we reschedule?”

Listen…….

I tried to be understanding by seeing that he was just moving to the city and had to settle in. I honestly remember my first time moving out on my own and I almost bought the whole store.

So I wasn’t mad. Just disappointed.

Especially since I was already fully dressed.

Nevertheless, he extended an invite to his place that way I could see it, get to know him and help him with anything.

I had to take some time to cool off, so I hung up and found yet another outfit to wear.

About 45 minutes later, I’m headed out to the place, practicing my “woo-sa” technique the whole way there.

I pull up and park, getting my mind right, praying that I won’t have to pop off tonight.

He met me outside, and we embrace in a hug. Everything was pretty cool.

I get to his place, and honestly it looks like nothing. But wait..

Now in my head, I’m like, “Didn’t you just spend your cash on things for your place? But yet your place looks like…. Never mind B.”

I shook the thought and I observe the tiny area we were in.

He cuts on the TV and turns to ESPN. Okay, cool, maybe he wants to catch up with the latest news and statistics.

Why am I still watching ESPN almost 15 minutes later?

I didn’t come over for this..

So I asked him the nagging question that was on my mind and he finally got the picture and turned the TV off.

My whole intention was to try to get to know you on a personal level, not watch this weak TV you got in this scrawny room.

As we begin to finally talk, he decided that he would like to play this ratchet music in the background.

Wait, was I not just speaking though?

This boy was dancing around the room like it was all good and telling me to get up and dance with him.

Uh, no sir.

My closest friends know that 90% of the time, I’m a serious person. But when I start acting up and being silly, I’m one of the funniest people you could meet. But when it’s about my time and my business, i.e., you trying to get to know me so where we could see where we stand and where this could go? Now was not the time to be dancing.

That’s just me though.

I’m literally sitting here looking at him getting hype to Rich Homie Quan and some other artists and I can tell that he was jamming hardddd.

I knew from then that this wasn’t gonna go well. At all. It was kinda funny, nonetheless.

He finally calms down and decides he would like to continue the conversation.

Now, the whole time, I’m accused of having an attitude because I’m not dancing, because I won’t be all touchy feely, because I didn’t wanna cuddle.

Like, ARE YOU MY MAN?! YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW ME!

I don’t owe you ANYTHING!

The whole situation made me feel like a sophomore in high school all over again. I’m grown. I ain’t with this mess.

I’m starting to reveal things about me that way he could get a better sense of who I am, and he just seemed bored with it.

Now as I woman, I know when I’m boring someone (which is pretty much impossible) and I believe a lady knows when to leave (not quoting Carlos from “Madea’s Family Reunion”. Carlos is the guy who was beating the daylights out of Lisa.) I know when someone is not listening to me, and I am very adamant about speaking when I know I don’t have your undivided attention.

Yeah, this was definitely a wrap.

I decide to wrap things up and look for my shoes to put on. As I am leaning over, I hear one of the most ratchet things that has ever been said to me.

“Man, why you ain’t tell me you had an a** like that?”

Oh yeah, you’re definitely not a man. That’s that freshman in high school mess.

Jesus, he has got to be kidding me. What I look like sitting here bragging about how big my rear end is and why would I tell you about it anyway? I’m not the type to brag. If you see it on me, then clearly you see it there.

But why is that important? As long as we’ve been communicating, rear ends weren’t a topic of discussion. Now that you see me in person, you want to try me on some heaux sh*t and see what I would do?

Don’t play with me.

If you know me, my stank faces are vicious. I shot him a disgusting glance and shook my head in disbelief. Before I was gonna annihilate his whole character, I asked him would he walk me to my car.

Silence.

I repeated the question with sternness in my voice.

He looks at me and sighs deeply, not moving an inch.

Oh, I couldn’t believe this crap! If you are not gentleman enough to walk me to my car, you certainly don’t deserve any time of mine.

I came to see YOU, so the LEAST you could do, is walk me to my car. It’s late, I’m young, and I’m a woman. That’s a hazard to my life if I walk by myself.

But at that time, I told him you can stay right where you’re at. I’ll walk my damn self.

Of course, he then tightens up and decides to put on his shoes.

Not to mention, throughout this whole ordeal, he keeps exclaiming that he’s hungry.

Ooh.

The heck you looking at me for? You said you spent “all this money” on your place so if you were smart, that would include putting food in your house. But you only got a pack of hot dogs?

*Rick Ross voice* SOMEBODY LIED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Jeez, this was a hand delivered lesson from God!

As he walks me to my car, he notices that there is a Domino’s nearby and he wants me to drive him to it.

I couldn’t laugh any harder.

As we’re nearing the garage where I parked, he utters,

“Is this good enough or do I need to still walk you all the way to your car?”

WAS I BEING TRIED AGAIN?

LOL NO SIR. NOT AT ALL. HAVE A GREAT HUNGRY NIGHT.

“You know what? Forget you and goodnight.” I chuckled all the way to my car and speed off as he’s still on foot, on a quest to find food.

So bottom line, ladies and gents, it is imperative to see someone in their natural state before you pursue anything with them. I just thank God that I was able to see this early in the game. It saved me so much time and energy and most of all, I can share this lesson with other people so that this doesn’t happen to them.

Yes, you’re welcome.

Now because of that experience, I could label that all guys aint sh*t. Of course, that would be inaccurate. I’ll just keep weeding out all these irrelevant beings until I find the one who’s worthy.

And make a mockery of those who claim to be men in the process.

Gentlemen, I suggest you ask your momma how these types of things go. Get right before you get left… like X.

Ladies, it is okay to accept someone’s flaws, but you should never accept pure bullcrap.

With that being said, keep your bullcrap tolerance low and your standards sky high.

NEVER SETTLE! Baby, we as women, deserve better!

As long as you recognize yourself as a queen and you act as such, you should only be looking for a king to match your worth.

Until then, control your queendom solo!

CHEERS TO THE QUEENS OF THE WORLD! *holds tea cup in the air*

CHEERS!