Can you hear a bullet before it hits you???

So me and my girl were chatting it up last week and of course, we started talking about our dating lives... a sorted few in particular.

"Girl, remember him??? I am so glad that we didn't work out. That new chick of his inherited a headache. I dodged that bullet like... Pwuuunnn!" (Insert quick neck shift to the left with bullet sound about here) LOL.

And so ensued an interesting back and forth banter about the number of "bullets" we have fortuitously dodged over our single years. And here I go asking...

"What about that "first love" bullet?"... All I can say about this is if I got hit by this bullet, I would be tending to a recently released convict of the NC Department of Corrections (Love you boo, but I'm sayin'...).

"And the "turned me out" bullet?"... He's the one that makes you start off every conversation with "Guuurrrrl, bye!" He is absolutely the ineffable shag in the hay.... Hell, he probably had a shag and used hay but guurl, you didn't care! He made you say yes to all requests... "You wanna put what in where???.... O-Tay." But while these dudes have some sort of savant sexual intelligence, it boggles you that basic english is insurmountable. The last time I saw this dude, he was working at Dairy Queen. If only he could blend his triple letter consonants like he did those "skr"awberry blizzards.... LOL.

The "got potential" bullet... Man, how many of THESE dudes are around??? You know, like the kind, who is intimidatingly smart, quick wit, and can argue extemporaneously the implications of anarchism as a valuable political ideology, BUT! ... works as the shift manager at Athlete's Foot . WTH??? What wrong turn did you take off the yellow brick road? :P

The "gay" bullet... Hey, it happens... To a couple of us, might I add ( And to remind you, we DO live in the gayest town in America). Thank heavens for the girls helping each other take those subtle-but-raised-right-brow signs seriously, we have avoided the flexible wrists, man gossip-teurs (a little strange when you know more about the latest Reggie Bush's pre-breakup jump off) , and the soft-convertible-two-seaters dudes (Seriously your car is gay)... But for those who know, you can't take away from their creative date night options (Wired & Fired Pottery had that sensual Swayze/Demi feel), their love of decor (They can help style up your bathroom on a $100 budget and a hook up from Targe't), and their expert knowledge of Carrie Bradshaw-esque fashion (You know about the Carrie does Vogue pin-stripe Vivienne Westwood suit??? ... Uh, let's be friends, 'kay?).

After this conversation, me and my girl had no choice but to bestow the obligatory "Wipe Me Down" move to each other. We got some of that Matrix-dodge-the-bullet-type skills! LOL... But then our conversation took an interesting turn. "You know, we didn't dodge every bullet out there. Yeah, you remember when you got hit? Did you even see it coming??? How in the world did you and I get caught up like that?"

There is always that one, the one where even here, it begs the proverbial question, "Can you hear a bullet before it hits you???" It's time for me to write about Him. --SP

Shout out to my first-letter-of-the-alphabet homie for the great conversations!

This could be a good one...

So every year after all this V-day business, my birthday comes a week later. Most of the time, I let the day do its thing, I think, "I'm glad to be here" & other birthday-like yada yada yadas, but I can usually count on my day unraveling like so...

• My mom will call at the time I was born (7:25am) and will go through the day of my birth. She will always remind me that when I was first born, she looked at me strangely and said to the doctor's, "Who is this child???" I was bald-headed and beet red.
• My brother will call and do the older brother thing, by telling me how we are getting older and other folks in our family and in the world are wasting time (Gotta get the sober reality talk from at least one person, right???:P).
• Then sometime throughout the day, my girls will call me. Someone will inevitably attempt to sing me a song, usually with a rap (I think this year it will be you, MM). I will also have to remind at least one of them how old I am and we will have to get into a conversation as to how I am oldest amongst my girlfriends in the A (but never mistaken as such). :)
• My dad will call and he will go through everyone's birthday in the family... "Your birthday is in February, your uncle is in January, then there's several birthdays in July... Your brother's birthday is July 2nd, then it's your mother's, right???, I'm September..."
• Let's see... Oh! My grandparents will call and say, "Happy Birthday, baaaaay-beee!" I will also have to tell them how old I am, my grandmother will be shocked, and wonder when I'm gonna find somebody.
• I will get a Vicky Secret birthday coupon in the mail to come and pick up my free panty.

I am very thankful for my yearly birthday line-up because I am reminded (in very unusual ways) how much I am loved... (Even the lingerie store thinks enough of me to say that I need a new set of panties for my big day). As usual, I am doing nothing over the top to celebrate, except hangin' out with some good friends, drinking the best margaritas in town, and doing some ol' skool dancing (I decided after last week's musings that margaritas are my friend).

But surprisingly, as I approach this upcoming bday with no more enthusiasm than any other bday, I keep hearing a voice that says, "Wait SP! This could be a good one"...

Ok, not big on voices (and in my profession, voices aren't really looked upon favorably), but this one has gotten me intrigued especially since it has somehow broken thru my present 30+flirty funk... Maybe this year will bring me... an answer to my latest SP life dilemnas... OR a winning lottery ticket! A job halfway across the world! A visit to "Parie"!

So, what do I do to figure out this voice's elusive message??? I go to wikipedia (LOL) and it says my forthcoming age is a natural number that represents.... the atomic number of Arsenic and is the number printed on all Rolling Rock beer... Um, not really the answer I was looking for but either which way the year goes, I hope that voice was on to something... This could be a good one. :)

--SP (the birthday girl).

My Post "Death-to-a-Single-Girl"-Blog Musings...

A couple of weeks ago two of my male friends scooped me up so we could catch up and have a couple of drinks. We went to Rare, a groovy southern tapas restaurant, that recently re-opened after a long hiatus (Glad you're back!).

It was there, after we had our first round, that we started discussing the contents of my last blog entry. Not like a couple of my girls (who interestingly are sisters) who deemed it my "Death to a Single Girl" blog (yes, I admit it was a little downbeat but I thought it showed my cynical but cute side :P ), my Boy BFFs had different take on it. The conversational exchange went something like this...

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Boy BFF#1: SP, I read your blog.

SP: Whatcha think about it?

Boy BFF#1: It was cool, but while you are writing about blahs about your single life, you don't seem to want to get married. You're picky. I don't think you really even want a boyfriend.

SP: Um...

Boy BFF#2: True.

SP: LOL, Whatever dudes.

Boy BFF#1: Seriously, do you want to be in a relationship???

SP: Well... see, I don't...

Boy BFF#1: You know what SP??? You're happy with a maintenance man, you know someone who can come through, "tighten things up" and then you send them on your way. You don't want them to be a part of the interwovens of your life.

Boy BFF#2: Boo-yah!

SP: No, I do want a partner... of some sort.

Boy BFF#1: SP, what do you want?

SP: Well, uh... see it's like... I want... you know...

Boy BFF #1: SP, easy question, what do you want???

SP: (In my less flustered trying to pull it together), Well, what I want is... (yet another pause)

Boy BFF#1: WHAT DO YOU WANT?!

SP: (Trying to scrape for scraps, I blurt), I want love!

Boy BFF#2: Boooooo! Love had me on the hood of a Kia Spectra last night (uh, true event here).

Boy BFF#1: SP, for real, that's all you got???

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I kinda even stunned myself with my shoddy, sub-par response. "I want love???"... Sounds like a throw back from my twenty-somethings. :P

But I must admit, this dialogue hung out in my head for a minute. I couldn't get the fact out of my mind that I, SP of sound mind, body, and 30+ years to boot, could not intelligibly answer this simple question... What do I want?

I started to think about my latest musings, my last writing, and the present state of affairs of my life. After reading my last blog, on the surface it may sound like a 30-flirty-single girl who is ready to turn in her single girl passport for marriage citzenship. But most who really know me know that I have never been that simple... nor that "Matt Lauer" glib to think that the cure for my latest single girl blues is matrimony, a boyfriend, or even a Friday night date in the A.

Rather, I think my "Death to a Single Girl" blog is more of the rantings and ravings of a 30+ single girl in the A who forgot that she's been given the gift of time to craft out the exact kind of life she wants (and most assuredly needs). And I must say here, I thank "the good" that looks out for me in this universe for this gift because I am pretty sure left up to me, I would have f'd some things up and over if I got what I want when I wanted it.

But as for now, my thoughts say that maybe Boy BFF is right. When I looked up the official job duties, maybe I do want the maintenance-sort of man (Not a bad gig, right??? LOL). But maybe I am right too....I want "love" (whatever that is). Who knows, maybe these two seemingly opposing life choices can co-exist. So until I figure out this conundrum, onto my musings au courant: Margaritas... Friend or Foe??? :) --SP

Can I be upfront and honest???

It's been a long while since I blogged--- about 4 months actually. And I could easily contribute my hiatus to being busy or the holidays getting me caught up, yada, yada, yada... But if I were to be completely upfront and honest, my little intermission was essentially due to not having one single upbeat and flirty idea to talk about. In reality, my 30, flirty so fabulous single life had hit an all time low.

I usually have some funny and heartening story to share to bring in the much anticipated weekends... But instead of my usual SP's-single-girl-playbook-strategies and the optimistic pledges-to-say -"I do"-to-singlehood commentaries, I was coming up with titles like "How to Stay Sober When You Know Your Life Sucks" or "Misery in the "A"... The "A" can kick rocks!" (The way I'm feeling, these titles may still make the rotation, LOL.)

It's really been a sad state of affairs. First, "bad" started when I had a string of uninspiring dates. "Worse" happened when I realized that I hadn't had sex in several months and guess what everybody??? --- I really didn't care (seriously, has anyone seen my mojo?). Then my single fabulous self took a nose dive when my gyne looked panicked-stricken when I told him I was 30 (plus some) and hadn't had a baby and there's no one in my life to GET me pregnant. My gyne looked at me as if I was a dating underachiever and quickly prescribed me some "relations" for the new year (Yes, he actually said "relations"). The final call was when I caught myself telling an ex-beau a half-truth that I was seeing someone fabulous, when all I was seeing was my future single self drowning in a sea of tragic statistics-- 1.8 million more black women than men; Elimiate the gay, the married, the already dated, the non-commital types, this leaves me with about 2, that's right 2 men that are preferrable to date.

Not like I haven't had a period of single life ho-hums, but for some reason this time I was lost. I wasn't so sure if I had the kind of bounce back of my 20's where you can shake off the bad dates, break open your "case of emergency, shag in the glass", leave the heartbreaks behind, and pull out the freak 'em dress on a Thursday night to catch a few new boos. When you turn the 30 curve, 90% of dates are bad, shag in a glass is married (although still calling... WTH???), heartbreaks hurt worse, and freak 'em dresses look desperate and frankly, you gotta get up for the a.m. work roll call--on time-- because your bills are real... I couldn't bear to myself that my feisty single idealisms of my 20s had converted into peevish cynicism in my 30s.

But during this trek, I have come to understand this whole single thing... Sometimes the ride is amazing, great friends, a sense of freedom, and anticipation of what is to come. But sometimes it sucks. Freedom feels like I'm without direction, there is nothing in the foreseeable future to anticipate, and in truth it just gets lonely sometimes where a girlfriend won't do. But, with each new day brings... who am I kidding? No happy wrap up here. When you come to a certain age, it just takes too much energy to make the bullisht up and truthfully... it's my blog and I can stay cynically peevish if I want to. :) --SP

What's with single women and their dogs???

It was funny because not too long ago, I was having small talk with a guy who said to me...

"Why does every single black woman I meet have a dog?"

I kind of chuckled at his question but then I realize he was asking it out of seriousness, like he felt some kind of way about this truth that is increasingly prevalent amongst us single ladies.

Yes, I have a dog and her name is Rosie. She's a cute, fiesty little thing, just shy of 4lbs. I got her when she was 6 weeks old right when I was finishing up my graduate work and moving to the A. Most know that I love her dearly and while she is sometimes inconveniently spoiled, I wouldn't trade her for anything.

Now when this guy asked this rhetorical question and the way in which he did, I initially felt like I received some sort of a penalty dating point me... I'm thinking, "SP got all this fabulousness and he can't seem to get pass the fact that I have a dog???" I was taken aback but then this wasn't the first time this was a source of contention for men pursuers in my world.

How did I respond??? Well, I simply said...

Some of us single ladies have dogs, but no matter how strong and independent I may be, at the end of the day I desire companionship--- consistent companionship, loving companionship. And while this isn't difficult for a dog, I have come to find that the male species have failed plenty of times to offer me the same (Mmm hmm I said it). Do you really think you can mosey on in here and say something about my dog and the only thing you have given me is a coke and a smile??? Get outta here, sucka! :0

Now let's be clear about something... Don't confuse SP with the crazy dog lady (we all know one) whose life is completely devoted to her puppy dogs and would prefer them over a lovely evening with a man. I was amazed at the number of 40ish year old single women at Rosie's play dates that were acting a little "extra" with their dogs... "Your dog has a high chair???" Yeah, I can't co-sign on this behavior and I need to go ahead and revoke my membership. lol

But in case you're still wondering what's with single women and their dogs??? Get a clue, take a lesson, buy a book, read a letter... For the majority of us single ladies with a dog, we simply just enjoy having one. Period. And if any man knows about a woman's spirit, it's in our nature to nurture (fur babies, our own babies, and yes, a deserving man too) until the job is done. I think if a man is smart enough, he would be able to see how valuable an asset this is in a woman and it is to him. But maybe you just don't have a clue. --SP

SP Can Play That Game!

So this past week, I have been having a conversation with one of my girlfriends and she told me she recently was given some motherly advice... Because she was having some difficulty with the man she was dating, she was advised to implement the "21-day pause".

Not to get into the details of what the "21-day pause" necessitates (that would be a blog in and of itself), we both were chuckling at the idea that her mom had some dating games from circa 1969 that she guaranteed would get the results we wanted. "The 21-day pause is timeless!"

Well, I immediately bit onto the idea. I felt like with her mother's prescription, we were unearthing an oldie but goodie fad, like the Dick Gregory Bahamian diet... I thought this could work like a charm.

I said, "We should do it". In my mind it was for no other reason than to test out her mother's theory to see if this dating woe technique could reap the benefits, to see if my girlfriend would really bite my bait, AND… to see if I could get a good blog out of it... Needless to say, my girl was too smart for all my foolishness. :P

But my girlfriend and I have had countless conversations about this and have constantly debated… Why all the game playing?

Now, you probably figured out what side of the fence I was on based on my enthusiastic response to "the pause". But it even makes me cringe a little to even write the words "game playing" because it conjures up such bad connotations and I feel like you (the reader) will turn on me and won't read anymore of this blog...

But read me out here... :) My girlfriend thinks all the game playing is completely unnecessary and I agree with her and after contemplating our many conversations, I believe this is my take... If the "game playing" is authentic then in essence... it isn't game playing. See, being "hard to get" because indeed you are "hard to get" due to living the life you want, choosing the interactions you want, and selecting the suitors you want to be with, then it is no longer a game. It's real. Implementing the "21-day pause" if you will, by articulating what is given is not what is needed is demonstrating that you truly believe in your own happiness and your ability to get what you desire in your relationships. I maybe wrong but my thinking is once that him experiences this, he will either shape up... or ship the h$ll on! :P

In my new decade of living, I've learned if I "play" anything, then it becomes only about me getting the pay off (i.e., the relationship, the ring, the marriage)--- I think at this point in my life, I don't want something just to have something and just to say to the world I got something. Rather, let me work on my 30+ life, that's fun, flirty, and fabulous- a life that I can only dream of having but I am working my butt off every day to make it my reality... Yeah, now THAT'S the game I think I can play!--SP

For Better or For Worse, I Say I Do.

Now I know if you're 30+, fabulous, and single, you have gotten THE proverbial question from you're married friends, cousins, and grandmas more than you care to remember...

"So... SP why aren't YOU married yet?"

I know they mean well when I get asked this question and they are innocently curious, although sometimes I see the faces that have pinned me as the culprit to my luckless single life and the real question is "What's wrong with YOU?" :P... But it's funny to me that although I have been hit and reminded of my quizzical single status, I am always caught a little off guard. I have to think to myself, "Which spiel will I give them today?" Do I give them the sob story and recant "The Black in America, I should just slice my wrist" statistics which usually generates a bunch of head nods and "Girl, keep your head up". OR do I just hit 'em with the "Down Low Fad" describing it like it's a plague running rampant amongst the single in the A (which isn't so far from the truth). That one I find is usually an immediate stop to the conversation with my Granny... "They fruity like that, baby???" Lol, yeah Granny they that fruity.

But seriously, the honest SP answer is... I don't know why I am not married yet and I don't know the fate of my single life... It may end in a happily ever after situation OR it may blow up in smoke and I resort to being some weird chick that writes a blog of my next decade entitled, "40 Despondent Fridays". You know who's to say and at this point isn't half the fun watching as my life unfolds??? I say just pull up a chair and a glass of wine and follow how this chapter in my life ends for me.

So as my girlfriends are slyly trying to cook up hook ups in the hopes that MAYBE, just MAYBE he is the one (Yes T, I'm talking about you and will be going triple date bowling with all my fabulousness :P) ... I will go along and be open to any possibility that may present itself...

BUT my resolve about my single life and its future is to say... It will happen with the one I am suppose to be with when it happens. I am not trying to work at it, force it, or circumvent it. For better or for worse, I say I do to being happily satisfied with singlehood until "the one" makes himself plain and clear. --SP