Wrong Mister Part 2: The Ex Game We Shouldn’t Play

 

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Hey Ladies (and gentlemen)!! Real quick, if you haven’t read SiNgLe MoMmY FiLeS – “WrOnG MiStEr” Pt. 1 please check it out before you go any further.

Okay, so remember when I mentioned that my plight transitioning into the next phase of my life…to date or not to date…was going to be an interesting ride? Well, the first time I decided to buckle my seatbelt, the ride was just that…interesting.

So one unsuspecting night, I met a man through a mutual friend, not with the purpose of getting to know him or even dating, we both just happened to be in the same place at the same time and hit it off. I remember vividly, having a pretty heated debate about dating, relationships, marriage and everything before, after and in-between.

I had my strong convictions about men and the issues they seemed to bring to the table, like their lack of communication, irresponsibility, selfishness, superficial attraction to women, infidelity, etc. (my source? Experience and countless stories from other women I knew). And he shared a few of his biggest hang-ups with women, which was their thirstiness (see, I told you this came up a lot in conversations with men), gold digging (yes, apparently there is such a woman out there that only goes after men with money), and our baggage handling (and I don’t mean a Samsonite carry-on or rolling suitcase ladies). I’m talking about the emotional baggage that “allegedly” only we women take from our failed relationships and bring onboard our new and improved relationships. And just so you know, I made up the term “baggage handling,” but give it some time, I’m sure it’ll end up on the ‘Ridiculous List of Urban Stereotypes for Women’ soon enough.

So anyway, that night, we presented strong cases, heard each other out, respected each other’s opinion, and in the end pretty much agreed to disagree on most things (mainly the stereotypes), just as I expected. By the time the white flag was thrown into the battle of the sexes, I noticed how great of a smile he had. I admired his winning personality, it was refreshing. I enjoyed his conversation and respected his ability to stand his ground with me as a man…I was actually attracted to someone for the first time in four years.

Of course, I didn’t act on the attraction. But luckily, we ran into each other a few more times. We would flirt with one another through semi-heated debates, which I later believed he started intentionally just to push my buttons and see my feisty side *growls.* I kind of think that disagreements turned him on…I do…I’m just saying.

We developed a friendship that involved us talking and laughing a couple times a day—about any and everything–for hours on end. We had the greatest conversations on the phone. We even kicked it at a few social events. Now mind you, I still was not in any kind of rush to be in a relationship, nor had I become desperate aka thirsty to have a man, but what we were building was genuinely nice and I was open to whatever the future could hold.

What was he like, you ask? He was a good old-fashioned southern church boy, whose morals and ideas about life, friendship, relationship, marriage, parenting, money, etc., were very similar to mine, once we got past those dreaded stereotypes. He was a handsome guy although there was one area in which he came up short, but there was nothing he could do about that. Now ladies get your minds out of the gutter. He and I were not thinking, hinting around to, or even talking about sex—which was a definite plus—we had both made decisions (prior to meeting each other) to wait until we were married.

He was educated, had a couple of jobs, his own money, own place, own car, no kids (I hadn’t decided if that was a pro or con yet), and had never been married. He had had a few serious relationships, one of which was long term, but they had been broken up for a while. Ladies, you would be proud, I did my due diligence and determined very early on in this “getting to know each other” stage, that he wasn’t a…don…don…don…serial killer. I was on to something good right? No! And let me tell you why.

Maybe a couple months down the line; this dude started changing on me. He was falling off, not calling as often, when in the beginning, a day wouldn’t go by without us conversing. So naturally, I got concerned and asked if we were cool, if everything was okay with him…with us. “Yea, we’re good,” he would say, but he continued to show me otherwise.

Now here’s the thing. We WERE NOT in a relationship. There WERE NO titles. We HAD NOT decided to take this friendship any further than friendship. There WAS NO exclusivity. He DID NOT owe me anything. I understood that. However, you would think as friends–that talked everyday and hung out together, pretty much every weekend–that we would at least be honestcompletely honest with one another.

We ended up having a very awkward conversation. In fact, it was more like an argument, because I believe he snapped at me for being genuinely concerned about my friend, who was acting extremely weird and distant. To be honest, I may have had an emotion or two invested, so I was definitely trying to make sure that we were still heading in the same direction, if not on the same page. My heart wasn’t up for any games.

To make a long story short (I’m probably a little too late for that, but anyway), our telephone conversations grew more infrequent and we eventually stopped talking to each other altogether. And yes, it did hurt my feelings a little, because I thought we were friends, and I deserved an explanation, if nothing else. I got over it though, deleted his number, swore off men, and decided to take myself off the market.

Funny thing is, a few months later, he reached out to me and I ended up answering the phone. Being the forgiving person I am, we talked that night, like old friends, for hours. You would have thought that nothing ever happened. I never said a word about how bad I felt he treated me as a friend, because I was over it. Now, before you start calling me foolish, let me tell you, as soon as we ended the call, I saved his number again and changed his contact name to: DO NOT ANSWER. Oh yea, if you’re reading this now wrong mister, yes, I most certainly did do that, and now you know why I never picked up any of your phone calls or responded to any of your text messages. *winks*

My theory as to how things went from being so sweet to bitter between us, seemingly over night, is his ex-girlfriend showed up. Remember that long term relationship I mentioned? Well, I knew about her (he was open about that), and I believe they decided to rekindle their on-again, off-again love.

Honestly ladies, if he would have told me she was back in the picture, I would have been a little disappointed, but his decision to be with her would have been totally respected. And believe me, I would have encouraged the re-union, because the last thing I wanted was a man that was still in love with his ex.

In the end, there were really no hard feelings. I just thought that was a very immature and disrespectful way for a grown man to handle a friendship with a woman. Maybe another man (or woman) would totally disagree with me, feel free to let me know if you do, but at that point, I wasn’t sure if I was up to getting to know anyone else. I actually didn’t for a whole year, and ladies, I can’t wait to tell you about that one! But I’ll save it until Wednesday.

Ladies let’s keep in touch! Click on the links to FOLLOW me, @snglemommyfiles on twitter and LIKE SiNgLe MoMmY FiLeS on Facebook!

See you then. Same time, same place.

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Remembering Whitney & Bobbi Kristina

One month ago today, the world lost one of its iconic superstars, but Bobbi Kristina lost her only mother and friend…my heart and prayers go out to her.

Although rumors and speculation continue to surround Houston’s untimely death, the impact she had on our lives with her voice and music and the memories she left behind will live on with those of us who loved and admired her. Whitney Elizabeth Houston, we will always love you. (R.I.P. 1963-2012)

Tonight, Oprah Winfrey sits with Whitney Houston’s daughter Bobbi Kristina, sister-in-law & manager Patricia Houston & brother Gary Houston in an intimate interview that will air at 9:00p.m. ET/PT, as a special episode of Oprah’s Next Chapter on OWN (check your local listing for the station).

 

Source: O.P.I.

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Wrong Mister Series – Part 1: Dating After Divorce…How Hard Can It Be?

 

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Hey Mommies!

Someone told me the other day that the “life of a writer is an open book.” I must admit that freaked me out a little…well…maybe a lot. I mean, my intentions from the beginning has always been to be open and honest, but I guess I hadn’t thought about how far open. Apparently, I’ve written some good stuff thus far—I’m not tooting my own horn here—but it’s based on the comments from supporters that have frequented my blog. I appreciate all the dialogue, the “likes” and the shares! Keep it coming ladies! If you haven’t thus far, please go check out my posts. The rest of you come with me please.

Around four years into my post-divorce phase, I’m convinced my biological alarm did more than just tick, it started blaring. I was DVRing and watching episodes of 16 and Pregnant, boo-hooing during every one of the labor and delivery scenes (don’t judge me now; Baby Stories is off the air). I eventually stopped tuning in and torturing myself by way of the television. But all it took was one “goo-goo gaga” of a precious little baby boy or girl in a stroller or the arms of another new mommy to get me going again.

Not to mention, my son was begging for me to have a baby; a sister, according to his specifications, because he figured she wouldn’t bother his things, but a brother would. Our conversations usually went a little something like this…

“Mom, since you’re not going to be with my dad…wait…are you sure you’re not going to be with my dad?”

“I’m sure. You’re dad and I are just friends.”

“Well, that sucks! I’m still a little upset about that. But why don’t you just marry someone else, have a baby, then get a divorce.”

“Why would I get a divorce? I want to be married again.”

“Because I don’t want another daddy, I just want a sister.”

Obviously he and I had several long discussions about daddies, babies, marriage, and divorce. But, truth is, I wanted a baby just as bad as he wanted me to have one. And that meant I had to at least be open to date, in order to get a man, that could eventually be my husband.

How hard could it be? Well…extremely difficult for someone like me, who was terrified of the idea of meeting a stranger, who could potentially be a serial killer; trusting him, when he could potentially be a serial killer, or even allowing him to get to know me or my son for that matter, when he could potentially be…yes…a serial killer. I had problems in the trust area as you can see, but you have to admit the odds are up there. But real talk, even if that was the least of my worries, ulterior motives, infidelity, mental instability, criminal records, numerous baby momma’s, and STDs were definitely some of the major concerns I had with meeting someone.

And as cute as I thought I was at times–my insecurities would come and go—men weren’t actually throwing themselves at me or chasing me down. And I’m such a traditionalist. I figured if they were interested then they would approach me. That’s the way I remembered it working when I was single back in 1997. Boy was I in for a rude awakening…things had changed a lot.

A few of my bff’s gave me some advice. There was a common consensus that I had to be a little more forward if I wanted to start dating—like, “hey I couldn’t help but notice you looking my way. My name is…” or “What’s the name of that coffee, is it good? I was going to try that. By the way, my name is…” forward. I wasn’t comfortable enough with approaching a man and having a conversation with him in Starbucks or Barnes & Noble or anywhere else for that matter. I just wasn’t. However, I could run my mouth all day about life and current affairs with any man, if “getting to know you” wasn’t my objective.

I was told that, although I was beautiful (beauty is in the eye of the beholder), when I walked into a room, I emitted this energy that I was either unavailable or not interested at all. So I had to change that and maybe start giving a little more eye contact, or smiling back, and an occasional wink or two might not hurt. “Are you serious?” I asked. “Yesss,” they all would say. And the ridiculous to-do list just went on and on, in my mind.

I’m still shocked at the role single women have to play in the dating game. We’re expected to throw ourselves out there just enough so men know that we’re interested in them too. But be careful ladies, not too much throwing, because we could easily be labeled as one of those ThIrStY ChIcKs I talked about in another post. From what my girls told me, we have TLC’s “No Scrubs” and Destiny Child’s “Bills, Bills, Bills” (can you pay my bills) and “Independent Women” movement to thank.

In my opinion, men seemS to be intimidated or maybe more insecure about the possibility of rejection–I knew the latter to be definitely true because of conversations I had with my male friends. But, it was just too much. I was dealing with my biological crisis while trying to maintain my SiNgLeNeSs with some dignity.

So I figured the best bet would be to be totally open to getting to know someone and dating but with one major condition; he would have to be highly recommended. Someone I knew or someone that knew someone I knew (friend of a friend) would have to seriously vouch for this guy. I had a few other non-negotiables too. He had to have his own relationship with God, be heterosexual (you have to be specific these days), love me and my son, have an education and his own money, be respectful, responsible, and honest. My list wasn’t as extensive as Chili’s–although I respected her for knowing exactly what she wanted–but it was sure to narrow down the bunch.

So as you can see ladies, my plight transitioning into the next phase of my life…to date or not to date…was going to be an interesting ride to say the least. I have plans to take you along with me, on a  WrOnG MiStEr series. Be sure to read Part 2 – 12.

Ladies let’s keep in touch! Click on the links to FOLLOW me, @snglemommyfiles on twitter and LIKE SiNgLe MoMmY FiLeS Facebook Page!

Until next time Mommies…

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Singleness Part 2: Tale of Two Selfies – Self-Love & Self-Fulfillment

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Hey Mommies!

As promised, here’s part 2 of the SiNgLeNeSs post. Please check out: SiNgLe MoMmY FiLeS – “SiNgLeNeSs” Pt. 1, if you haven’t already. The rest of you please follow me.

So, I had a pretty interesting weekend. Despite the high temps, clear skies and sun (that people took full advantage of), I laid around disorientated, drinking tea, somewhat comforted, yet slightly disturbed by a heating pad, and too lazy to Google whether or not having it on high could possibly fry my ovaries … sounds crazy right? I know. I get that way sometimes and it’s not my fault—as I have tried to explain to men—I was at the mercy of Mother Nature who showed up this month with a vengeance. She had her foot in my lower back it seemed and she made me miserable and irritated and found new ways to torture me…sort of the same way a mother-in-law does. I know, I know, that’s not nice, but it’s the truth, for many.

Remember early on in the SiNgLeNeSs post when I mentioned that I realized “I had become content with being–a single woman?” I had, but it wasn’t an easy process on any level, as I’m sure some of you can attest or argue. But for me, it was more so having to take care of my son as a single mom–by default, not necessarily choice—and failing at the thing that represented a defining moment in my life. The being alone part hurt deeply at times, considering that I married with the intention of forever.

So trust me, I understand what being alone feels like. I’ve lived it, walked it out, and slept that way for over four years (and still counting). I’m not implying that being single is ideal for everyone. It isn’t for me. Let me tell you, I wanted to be in love, someone’s wife, and an angel’s mother–more than anything in the world–as far back as I can remember (elementary school to be exact). It was then, that I fell in love with the first boy of my dreams…I’ll call him N.B. for short. In my mind, we were destined to be married, have 2.5 children, live in a house with a white picket fence, and a little dog, and live happily ever after.

I didn’t marry my first love aka my middle school and high school boyfriend surprisingly, but a couple of boyfriend’s, break-ups, and heartaches later, I did fall in love with another young man who would become my friend, first husband, the father of my child, enemy, ex, and friend again, all within a six year period.

Granted after divorce I really wasn’t pressed to be in a relationship. Honestly, I wasn’t up for trusting another man with my heart. I was broken, a little bitter, disgusted with men…and tired of the hurt that they all seemed to have caused at some point in my life. Then, above all, I had my son to care for and a lot to think about; I was real grown with someone depending solely on me. And I knew my decisions—good or bad—would ultimately affect his life.

I had no plans of casually dating OR sexing with anyone–which seemed to be most men’s objective (let me just say, I am not man-bashing, so men, if the shoe doesn’t fit, it’s not yours). I refused to deal with another man’s lies, infidelity, immaturity, irresponsibility, or baby mama drama at the expense of my own deserved happiness. And just so you know, I dealt with four out of the five (of the above) with a divorced man I had met after mine was finalized. We weren’t even in a relationship and he was still clowning, so I was good with all of that. I had decided that I would not allow anyone else to hurt me. I was guarding my heart, which I realized was just the first phase of singleness for me. There was obviously a lot of healing that needed to take place, baggage I had to start unloading, and responsibility I had to take for my part in my failed marriage before I would ever be ready for another relationship.

As time went on, singleness would taunt me. I could barely watch love stories (my favorite genre), or watch a couple’s PDA, or enjoy a married couple’s company, without yearning for love. Loneliness was robbing me of my happiness and peace yet again, just as my failing marriage had, and I could not allow myself to experience that all over again.

I refused to put on a front and be miserable married, celebrating anniversary after anniversary, just to say I was married–which is why I chose divorce–and I was certain that I wouldn’t be that way, single either. So I fought for what belonged to me. I prayed. I cried. I prayed some more. Some battles I lost to broken-heartedness, disbelief, and depression. Some battles…I won…because I had to…for my son and my sanity. And needless to say, I would not have made it through without my own personal relationship with God—not a man.

Eventually, my wounds healed, and some scars faded, and my load got a little lighter. When I thought about it, I wasn’t happy in the end being married. Neither was I happy after it was all said and done, being single. And, it wasn’t just a matter of being with the right or wrong person, it was a matter of me; not him or them, but me finding my own happiness and my own peace and pursuing it.  It was then, that I realized two things. 1) Happiness was not guaranteed based on my marital status and 2) I was the one in control of it. I’m throwing in number three for free; 3) Either I was going to be happy or not, whether I was single or not. Point. Blank. Period. It was my choice and my decision to embrace self-fulfillment–the ability to make yourself happy and complete through your own efforts.

So I’m saying this again, YES you can live without a man and be happy, really happy, for as long as you choose, but you cannot truly live without self-fulfillment, single or not. 

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Are You Thirsty?

Okay, so I was in the process of writing Part 2 of the SiNgLeNeSs post– which by the, if you haven’t yet, you could read here: SiNgLe MoMmY FiLeS – “SiNgLeNeSs” Pt. 1when I was distracted by a thought. I’m going to get back to that post don’t worry, but first I wanted to tackle a sensitive subject—or as my girl Wendy Williams would say—a hot topic surrounding a certain type of “socially unacceptable” behavior that men insist a lot of single women exhibit … “thirstiness.” And I’m not talking about feeling a need to drink something, but being too eager to get something (especially play), according to the urban dictionary.

This is a common conversation thread amongst men. Don’t think for a minute that men don’t gossip, because they do. They’re talking about single women aka “thirsty chicks” with each other, behind their backs, at the gym, on the courts, in the clubs, at church, on social networks and blogs … I’ve actually had quite a few disturbing and somewhat heated conversations, on several occasions, with pretty much every one of my male counterparts. It is a common consensus. They are convinced there is a rise of the planet of the “thirsty chicks.”

And, according to men (and some women agree, might I add), thirstiness is a single woman that is so desperate to be in a relationship or married that they’ll do anything, put up with anything, or settle for anyone just to have a man. They feel that thirsty chicks come on too strong and push themselves on men. Granted traditional roles (boy sees girl, boy likes girl, boy asks girl for her number) for getting to know someone has changed (now girls see boy, girl likes boy, girl asks boy for his number) and there are men that appreciate a woman who sees what she wants and goes after it, but there are many men who still prefer to pursue rather than be pursued.

They say thirsty chicks are aggressive and impatient–“Why does a woman have to rush everything and control the relationship? If I’m spending all my time with her, doing things for her and showing her how much I care about her, why would she have to have a title or label us? Every woman I’ve been with has tried to rush me into something,” ranted one of my close male friends, “they want you to put a ring on it and you’ve not even been with them that long … just thirsty!”–We debated back and forth about yet another stigma that the single female has to deal with, finally agreeing to disagree…

I can go on about conversations I’ve had, but I’ll let a few excerpts I stumbled upon, sum it up for you. Please note, what you are about to read are not my words, but I felt like the author did a good job of describing signs of a “thirsty chick” from a male’s perspective.

She latches on to a very superficial connection: This is the foundation for the thirst because no mutual interest has been expressed. She knows one or a few things about a man, and all of a sudden she’s friends with him. When she sees him in the street, she acts like they have been homies for years, whilst he cringes behind his forced smile as she approaches. And since he’s the only person on the street, avoidance is not an option. Sucks to be him.

She reaches out too much, too often: Maybe they are FB friends. Maybe she follows him on twitter. Maybe the man, with his nice-guy ways, gave her his phone number. Either way, she can reach out whenever she feels so inclined…which is all the time? Bear in mind, he never calls her. He never IMs her. He rarely hits her with a @reply. But she sees no issue with the one-way initiation of communication. She keeps on keeping on.

She is over the top with just about everything…and she thinks it’s cute: The thirsty woman doesn’t know anything about moderation. She’s overly flirtatious. She’s suggestive when it’s uninvited. She takes the sexy jokes a wee bit too far…and everyone knows it except her. As she giggles thinking she’s being cute, she doesn’t even notice that she’s being giggled at.

I’m going to keep my opinion to myself (for now), because I really want to know what, the readers think. Do you agree? Are some single women “thirsty?” Do you know any “thirsty chicks?” Are there any men reading this blog that agree or disagree?

Excerpts: DYT.

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