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A quick note on reaching mistress age

This mistress age thing comes up a lot in regular conversation for me. Usually I’m engaged in convo with a female who is describing all of the syptoms of mistress age, but does not yet have the proper terminology (mistress age) for it. The last conversation of this nature sent me to the internet to search for other information on women who have reached the age of mistress-dom.

Here’s what I found: X / 2 + 7.

This is apparently the mathematical formula men should use to determine the optimum age of their next mistress. In this case, X = the man’s age. As a note, if the man’s age is an odd number, he is directed to round down after dividing by 2. For those who have no desire to do these simple calculations themselves, there is a very nice chart provided which matches ages 22-55 with the proper age for their mistress (18-34).

Apparently, at 30 years old, I am fair game for men aged 46 or 47. It’s a little off from my experiences, as most of the married men who make passes at me at about 36-39 in age, and the single ones are either babies (clustering around age 22) or old enough to have fathered me (54+, divorced with children old enough to have resulted from the teenage pregnancy I never had).

Anyhoo, y’all should check out the chart. Regardless of whether or not it’s true, it’s at least entertaining.

 
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Posted by on October 11, 2011 in Dating, Future Planning, Marriage

 

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Overheard Randomosity

Sooooo, I was in the airport the other day. As I tend to do, I walked into a jewelry/accessory/gift shop. I was the only customer in the store, and the attendant was pottering around on the the store’s cordless phone. As I began to browse, she called out “Welcome to our store.” from across the (small) shop. I thanked her and continued to browse. Robin Thicke’s “Complicated” was playing over the store’s speakers as I heard the next words out of her mouth: “Our love making session last night was…[imagine a silence just long enough for the person on the other end to fill in the next word]…EXACTLY!”

Startled by her nonchalant broadcast, I turned around slightly to notice that she was completely engrossed in her phone conversation, and clearly unconcerned that I as in earshot. In the next 7 minutes of my browsing/eavesdropping, I learned the name of her girlfriend with whom she was chatting, that she’s putting out more than she was at the beginning of this relationship, that the “relationship” title is still new to her and “him”, that they see each other almost daily, and other small anecdotes about the relationship. As I listened, I found myself evaluating her relationship with this man and tottering back and forth between thinking their relationship was on the rocks and thinking it was pure romantic bliss. It’s funny how one’s choice in adjectives and the inflections in their voice can give you that impression.

Anyhoo, this is post really has no point. The privately public announcement of this woman’s “love making session” just had a lot of shock value for me…and I wanted to share. So there. I’ve shared.

 
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Posted by on October 3, 2011 in Uncategorized

 

He has a crush on me…now what?

This post seems so appropriate following “the talk.” Earlier this month, I mentioned that I’d been learning to be more open in my dating profile. So here’s the deal:

I met this man while out shopping. He approached me in the store, told me how beautiful I was, and that he was new to town. Here is this young, black man, not my type but easy enough on the eyes, complimentary, and up front with his intentions and baggage. In a twenty minute conversation, we learned each others’ back stories and found commonalities between ourselves. He left with my phone number and I left cautious, yet flattered. It was like some oddly awkward and exciting version of speed dating. After that, I went two days without hearing from him. Then, on a random Tuesday afternoon, while at work my office phone rang. I answered, and he said “This is Dominic. I don’t want you to think I’m a stalker or anything, but I couldn’t read my own handwriting [chuckles]. You were right that your name is very unique. I was able to find your contact information at work right away.” After a conversation that felt like a second date, and giving him my phone number again, we made plans for dinner later than evening. Fast forward 5 movie nights, 3 Dominic-cooked meals, 3 outings with my friends, 2 dessert nights, 2 quickies, 1 sleep over, and 4 weeks later…and this man tells me that he has a crush on me. Rather than being flattered, I was caught off guard and reacted with sarcasm and a tinge of jealousy.

So now, you’re probably trying to figure out what the hell is wrong with a crush. The answer to that lies in the details I’ve left out–the most important of which is his girlfriend. Yes, you read correctly. He has a girlfriend. She lives several states away, which leaves his free time completely open to court me and whomever else his heart desires. The girlfriend wasn’t a dealbreaker for me upon meeting him, because he was forthcoming with his relationship status and direct in telling me that the relationship was rocky. His subsequent behavior led me to believe that everything he’d told me originally was true. Then came a weekend when we were both planning to travel–I was taking a family vacation and he was planning a mini-road trip. As I drove to the airport, he and I were on the phone discussing our respective weekend plans. In the midst of that discussion…

Dom: Well you know Kaye is coming this weekend.

Me: Who?

Dom: Kaye.

Me: Ray?

Dom: Kaye.

Me: Who is Ray?

Dom: You know, the girl from [insert hometown here].

Me: [thinking: Girl?! Maybe he didn’t just say Ray…Did he say Kaye? From ____? Oh hell naw…his girlfiriend?]Don’t act like I know her name. We never talk about her. I thought you were going to [next state over] this weekend.

Dom: I am. I’m off until Tuesday.

That was a wake up call for me. First off, “the girl from home” is not the same thing as “my girlfriend.” Secondly, a girlfriend who is coming to visit you, and for whom you are taking vacation days, is not the same thing as the other half of a relationship that’s on the rocks. Suddenly, I realized that I had found myself right back in the place that I didn’t want to be–as a wedge in the middle of an otherwise functional(?) relationship.

Since that day, I’ve attempted to bow out of the contest for his attention and affection. We talk a lot less, but we still see each other frequently enough (i.e. 2 weeks, 2 movie nights, 1 Dom-cooked meal, 2 outings with my friends, and 1 dessert night have happened since I made the decision to fall back). It’s a little difficult to shake him, because (as previously mentioned) he’s new to town and I’m his first-friend-in-a-new-place-crutch. I’ve introduced him to people, but he would rather hold onto his crutch (me) than strike out on his own. For example, when people invite him places, rather than just responding, he checks with me to see if I’m planning to go first. It’s odd…but anyway back to the story: So…when he looked me in my eye and announced his “crush” two nights ago, it sounded more like tired game to me than flattery. That tends to happen when I listen with one ear focused on reality. Here’s how that went…

Dom: I can’t help it that I have a crush on you. I like you. I like seeing you. Have you noticed that I only come out places when you’re around? I come because I hope that I’ll get to see you. I have a crush on you.

Me: Well Im crushable.

Dom: That you are.

Me: Yep. Crushable. Just not datable.

Dom: What do you mean? I think you’re datable. I’d date you.

Me: That’s a moot point. You have a girlfriend.

Dom: Who I’m clearly not worried about. I like you. You’re pretty…

Me: Well thank you

Dom: …and you have a good heart.

Me: I *do* have a good heart…

Dom:  I can tell that. I watch you.

Me: …but you on the other hand…you’re more like an asshole. [sidebar: he really can be quite rude to people]

Dom: I know! But you balance me out…in so many ways. You’ve got a good heart. I’m an ass. You’re brown. I’m light-skinned…

That conversation was like a minature version of “the talk” for me. Though it didn’t lend me much clarity on where he stands, it helped me clarify where I stand. I’m not flattered by Dominic’s crush, and even if he were free to date me, I don’t think I am able to trust him in a monogamous relationship.  

Moving on. I’ve really got to figure out how to move out of this zone where people have crushes on me to a place where they actually want to (and are free to) date me. Once I get to datable, I’ll be looking for the road signs that point me towards marry-able. I’m trying to make moves out here!

 
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Posted by on September 23, 2011 in Dating, Future Planning, Reflection

 

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The Talk

In almost every conversation I have with other SBFs about the men in their lives, there is one common thread: the talk. [Cue music: dun, Dun, DUN!] Oddly, we each seem to have some type of anxiety-inducing fear surrounding “the talk”. Often times, we are so afraid of “the talk” that the thought of it makes us revert to a passive, preteen version of ourselves that passes notes rather than engages in an adult dialogue.

For those who may not know what “the talk” is, it’s the conversation where two people (in this case, a man and a woman) explicitly state and work out the details of their relationship. In my experience, it most often begins with some version of the question, “What are we doing?” It involves a discussion about whether or not you’re exclusively dating someone and what you want or expect from each other.

What’s interesting about the women I talk to (including myself) is that we wait too late to have “the talk”. We only take the initiative to begin “the talk” after we’ve become too far invested in someone. By the time we’re sitting around with our girlfriends discussing whether or not we should have the talk, we’ve already been dating (or sometimes, doing) some man for so long that our emotions are completely tied up with him. We are so far into liking him that we can’t in good conscience date (or do) other people without feeling as if we are somehow stepping out on him (the non-boyfriend). In fact, by the time we pose the “What is this?” question, we already know the response we want is for him to say that we are in a monogamous relationship. And thus, it’s easy to see why “the talk” induces anxiety. The stakes are too high. Any conversation that has the potential to either end in bliss or heartbreak (because we’re so dramatic that we actually can’t see past these two extremes) is too risky. But what’s even riskier is never bridging the conversation and slipping emotionally deeper into something that can’t be easily reversed.

That said, it seems that it’s better to have “the talk” earlier on in a budding relationship. However, I should note that women just as hesitant to bridge “the talk” too early, usually for fear of scaring a man away. In attempts to protect a man’s ‘fight or flight’ reflexes, we sit back enjoying the ride…only the look up several months into an almost-relationship, emotionally-invested, and afraid to ask “the question” for fear that the response won’t be favorable.

Geez, my head hurts just thinking about it all. I do wonder, though, if most (not all) men who allow a relationship fester in neverneverland long enough that it needs some clarity aren’t truly ready to be in a relationship. I mean, honestly, should a woman have to be the one to begin that conversation? Shouldn’t a man be clear enough about his desire take a particular woman off the market that he steps up to the plate and exposes his feelings with the hope that she’ll reciprocate?

 
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Posted by on September 12, 2011 in Dating, Uncategorized

 

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Learning to be Open to All Possibilities

Summer 2011 has been an eye (and mind and heart) opener. As much as I would love to one day have a family all my own, I have been known to make the statement that I may never be married…and to believe it.

Somewhere along the years (maybe when I realized that I am the proud owner of a collection of bridesmaids dresses, maybe when I began quickly approaching my 3rd decade, possibly when I acknowledged the fact that my prospects are so dim that they leave me in the dark, or maybe when I recently entered my 3rd decade, I really can’t call it) I actually internalized the thought that a life of singledom may be what is intended for me. Though I hope and pray and pray some more that this is not the case, the version of me that I was in May 2011 did not believe those prayers could be effective.

So here’s what changed: I spent a summer being exposed to men who made me believe in the possibility of love and commitment. Some of these men are people with whom I spent time and some are men I’ve heard about through my girlfriends. The common thread in all of them is that they are grown up, eligible (imagine that! unattached men expressing interest in unattached women…novel, hunh?) black men who are educated, gainfully employed, and open to actually courting a woman. I clearly know that good(ish) men exist, but I was so shocked to actually finally run into them outside of my own social circle.

The result of my summer of overexposure: I’ve grown. I am practicing being completely open to entertaining conversation from eligble men who present themselves in a respectable manner. I’ve had some ‘getting to know you’ conversations and accepted some date invitations that a previous version of myself would not have even considered. I’m sure that I’ll be telling those stories soon and very soon.

 
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Posted by on September 4, 2011 in Dating, Man Hunt, Marriage, Reflection

 

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Raised to be Single

Are black girls raised to be single?

I was watching last week’s episode of Toya, and there was a scene when Memphitz, Toya’s husband-to-be, and T-Pain were sitting around talking about marriage. T-Pain has apparently been happily married since he was 18 year old (2003)…who knew?! Anyhoo, T-Pain was cautioning Memphitz that marrying a black girl would mean less forgiveness and less leeway to eff up in the relationship (actually, he said one chance). Without hesitation, Memphitz made a comment that black girls were raised to be single and they both agreed on that point. Here are two young (late 20s) black men having a candid conversation…and, even as one of them embarks upon what he intends to be a lifelong relationship with a black woman, this is what they believe to be true. So, this is my question: are little black girls really raised to be single? Are we instilled with characteristics and survival mechanisms under the assumption that we will live life alone? I do not purport to have the answer to this question, but I do find it an interesting one to ponder.

As I look around me and notice that the ratio of married to unmarried black girls in my circle is about 50%, I know that some black women are successful in attaining un-single status. Yet, when I think about the environments in which lots of (if not most) black girls are raised, I can’t help but believe that this question holds some merit. Regardless of the usual factors thrown out as explanations (i.e., how many parents are in the home, the presence of a stable male figure in the home, socioeconomic status, family values, etc.), I think a majority of black children are exposed to a range of people/families that span the spectrum on all of those factors. Whether it’s our neighbors, our cousins, or classmates, our barbers/beauticians, or whomever, we get a chance to observe and learn about life  on each end of those spectrums. We see one-parent, two-parent, and no-parent households. We see the relationships that people have with their “real daddy”, step daddy, God daddy, mama’s boyfriend, and/or no one. We know the difference between people who live on section 8, those who live hood rich, those who make due, and those who are truly living large. My point: black kids are exposed to a lot. While I believe exposure is a good thing, I also believe there’s such a thing as too much exposure.

Maybe little black girls who are exposed to all the possibilities of how life’s path can lead to something other than marital bliss develop some combination of cautionary characteristics–independence, distrust, loquaciousness, loyalty, bitterness, promiscuity, etc.–that lead to singledom. Or maybe, just maybe, we develop characteristics so noble that only a select few men are able and willing to take the necessary steps to love us. I really don’t know. What do you think?

 
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Posted by on July 24, 2011 in Dating, Future Planning, Marriage, Reflection

 

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Kappa Konclave 2011: Heaven, Purgatory, and Hell

Continuing on with the guest blogging theme, my girl Jazzy Belle was ever so gracious to share a glimpse of what went down when the men of Kappa Alpha Psi made their centennial pilgrimage to their fraternity’s birthplace…with an extra special word of caution to any woman who has the pleasure of calling one of these men her boo, husband, plus one, boyfriend, jump off, maintenance man, or any other label with a similar meaning. Read on! _____________________________________________________________________________________________

Last weekend I had the pleasure of partying with the men of Kappa Alpha Psi Fraternity, Inc. during their Centennial Konclave in Indianapolis.  (First, let me be clear so that you don’t think I’m a Kappa groupie/sweetheart/diamond: I live in the Indianapolis area so there was no travel or major investment required on my part.) So, as I reminisced over the weekend with the Nupes I realized that my weekend can best be described by comparing to the three different types of afterlife experiences. Go with me on this.

Heaven

This is obvious. There were tens of thousands of Black men who attended college all crammed in about five city blocks. What’s more is that this is Indianapolis, Indiana. So unlike DC, Atlanta, or any other city that matters, there are FAR fewer women here. The ratio of men to women is like 5,000 to one. Okay not really, but there are Crimson and Creme men everywhere. Tall ones, short ones, skinny ones, fat ones, light ones, dark ones were there for the picking. For once in my life in a (mainly) heterosexual environment I could sing the song “It’s Raining Men! HALLELUJAH”

But it was great, because since Kappa Konclave was some weird Twilight Zone where women were rare, dudes were hella chatty without being annoyingly thirsty. All the parties were free for women and dudes just wanted to chat and flirt. All around wins.  Kappa Man Malcolm told me “I hope you’re enjoying yourself because you’ll never be around so many Nupes with so few women ever again.” I’m sure he’s right.

 In addition to the general abundance of men, I had a personal highlight. I was finally able to catch up with a Kappa that I met years ago. Let’s call him Kappa Man Tariq. I remembered that dude was cute but I didn’t remember him being that fine and sexy. Good Lord. Fortunately, he lives in the place where I’m relocating so it’s worth staying in touch with that one. I mean he was incredibly sexy… swoon

Purgatory

Okay. So there are tens of thousands of Black men roaming the three streets that make up downtown Indy. That’s the quantity factor, now let’s look at the quality factor. Three out of four Kappas were married. The fourth was gay or in a committed relationship. That means that 100% of the Kappas were unavailable to you for purchase. If you thought you were going to traipse the streets of Konclave and get chose, you may have been disappointed. My new friend, Kappa Man Corey, said it best, “if you came here trying to get chose, you gonna leave mad.” Well said, Kappa man Corey.

He’s right though. You’re meeting these men out of the context of their daily lives. Most of them left their significant others home to try and relive their undergraduate hedonism with their line brothers. Serious courtship and girlfriend recruitment is the antithesis of all of that. I was clear about this from the outset, so I enjoyed my window-shopping experience. Chatted it up, danced it up, drank it up, flirted it up, and then went home alone.

Hell

When I say “hell” I don’t mean it in the sense that anything about the weekend was torturous. I mean hell in terms of where people are going because of all the sinning they were doing! So there was daytime Konclave where you saw the brothers strolling the streets, gripping each other up, and hollering at cute girls. We get that.  That’s PG-rated. Everyday life experience.

But then…there’s Konclave after dark. Another friend, Kappa Man Antwan was telling me about strippers in hospitality suites and all kinds of adult recreation. Now while I didn’t witness that, I was out and about on Saturday night and suddenly that delightful ratio of 5,000 men to 1 woman seemed a lot more even. By Saturday busloads of prostitutes magically arrived in Indianapolis. And trust, I’m not assuming they were working women, I know they were working women. Girl crew and I witnessed transactions going down all around us! We even overheard a chick on the phone saying “Girl you need to get here and make some money cuz we fuckin & suckin everything this weekend!’ That’s whoa. By late Saturday night gone were the daytime Kappas and here were the nighttime Nupes.

Well that’s my recap. I had a pretty damn good time. Saw friends and family and bonded with my girls. It was an all around win.

Oh and ladies, if your man was at Konclave you might want to suggest he get tested before you let him stick his cane anywhere near you. I’m here to help.

Author: Jazzy Belle

 
 

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