Saying the Uncomfortable Thing Out Loud...

...just not to the right person.

The way he tells it, I was aggressive on our first date. He emphasized that first of all I was late, but also that I rebuffed the drink he had pre ordered for me, a mojito. "I don't drink mojitos; I don't like things floating in my drink" or something like that is what I said. He then said I did end up drinking it and liking it (because it was frozen, mind you), but because I was so aggressive out the box I almost didn't get to enjoy this "experience." A stupid mojito.

When I corrected him and said, "I'm not aggressive, I'm assertive, I speak up when I don't want something and I don't see that as negative," he said, "well I do."

That was during a Friday night date back in 2022, and it damn near put me off my Buffalo wings and cold beer.

It's 2025 and the memory of this conversation has basically put me off my relationship.

How can I be with someone who sees my speaking up for myself, what I want and need, what I prefer or what makes me feel good, as a negative?

And if you know me, you know I always have one foot out the door, ready, willing, and able to walk away, dignity intact, and live well. But I'm trying to be a grown up, and I heard a rumor that grown ups talk things out first.

A huge part of me is still The Jaded NYer, though, which means that before I activate my inner grown up, I activate my inner petty blogger.

Because FUCK HIM. Why should I drink a drink I know I don't like, just to impress a date? So now every time we go out I have to endure a drink with fucking leaves in it to keep up appearances? I have to eat your "chicken stew" when I have a physical aversion to BOILED chicken with the bone in? I can't complain about huge chunks of onions and peppers in the mac and cheese? I'm supposed to fuck you even when I'm not in the mood? Where does it end? When do I get to be me?

I'll tell you when: ALWAYS. I'm ALWAYS going to be me. And if you're only going to love me IN SPITE of that fact, instead of BECAUSE OF it, I really have to ask, why are you even with me?

I probably should have posted this in my Letters I'll Never Send blog...

Anywhores... Happy Valentine's Day, losers.

Love & Balls,
Jaded
-----
please stop asking, do you still love me?
don't have much to say, let's speak in the morning
please don't do this, I'm too far away
don't know what to tell you, babe

Me + Idris + The PA I Almost Had To Kill: A Jaded Dream Post

It's been a long time since I've posted a dream for analyzing, but honestly my vivid dreams have been few and far between. But here's one from this past weekend that should prove quite entertaining. Ready? Ready!

So I'm dating Idris Elba (stop laughing) and he stays over my place one night. In the morning he has to get to work on a set near my apartment, and goes to use the restroom but I'm like "Noooo N's home and I don't want her to know you were here."

But he's all, "I have to meet her eventually."

So fine. They meet and it's awkward as hell. Right then some strangers try cutting through my room to leave this restaurant that is now behind my apartment attached to the buildings and I tell them "no, you gotta go around." I lock the door and Idris leaves.

Ffwd to that night, I see my door is open because people ignored me and have been cutting through my apartment all day. I go out there to talk to them and see everyone dressed in 1970s exploitation film attire and looking high as fuck. They're filming a goddamn movie at the restaurant. I tell one of the production ladies she can't go through my place but she's like, "yeah, we can and we will."

I go OFF. I say "no, you paid for use of the restaurant and alley, not my apartment."

So we argue and this production lady has a whole production team with her but I stand my ground: they CANNOT cut through my apartment to come and go. She says they spoke with my landlord and he gave permission. I say, "I doubt it" and slam the door in her face and lock it. The door has this big window in it, and don't you know this bitch threw a chair through that window? So now it's on. I reach through and slap her in the face through the broken window and when she tries to reach in and hit me I move her arm so a shard of glass slices her. It's a whole ruckus.

They walk away but I know something is up so I scoop up Naomi and leave the apartment, but before I do I see Idris left his shoes in my place, and I'm low key pissed. Who does that? This ain't your house, Idris! But I digress.

Outside, one of the actors on set is wildin' out and a PA has to tell him to chill, so I realize I'm dealing with an amped up cast and crew--what the hell kinda film is this? I'm already nervous because folks have been in my apartment and now the glass is broken so they can get in again, and now I see these ain't normal sober people. So I'm fitna call the cops and shut down production.

But guess what?

It's the movie Idris is working on!

So now I have to choose between being with Idris-fucking-Elba, or standing my ground against this feral cast and crew. I was so troubled by this that I woke up!

Kelly! I know you're reading this; tell me what it all means!

*smooches...vowing to lay off the late-night snacks*
--------------
clearly that was a buffalo wing-induced nightmare!

Sweet Distractions Tastes Like "Lemonade"

Ahhhh, Beyonce. You'll never know how much I needed something else to focus on this week.

Her latest studio album is the official 2005-2006 Jaded Anthem Soundtrack. If I could re-divorce my ex I would, and play this album while signing my papers because YASSSSSS I AIN'T THINKIN' 'BOUT YOU (from "Sorry")

Of course my favorite Lemonade song is "Sorry" CAUSE I AIN'T SORRY THUG LIFE & FUCK YO FEELINGS FOR LIFE! *whew* that felt good.

— The Jaded NYer (@TheJadedNYer) April 25, 2016

If you haven't listened, give it a shot. It's fun, it's danceable, it opens a few wounds, it heals the hurt a little bit. She did that.

MIDDLE FINGERS IN THE AIR.

Now please excuse me while I break up with all of the mens I'm not even dating, just because.

*smooches...but I still ain't sorry*
----------
y'all. when a woman's fed up... TELL HIM 'BOY BYE'

Mari Speaks On...

...dating:

"If I shave my legs and apply lotion the day we hang out, we go together."

File that under #mariskeystodating. You're welcome.

*smooches...sharing important info with the masses*
----------
and this is why I say Mari is crazy

If You Don't Mind...

i'm gonna bathe in this love you've left behind by the bed
i'm gonna use it to rinse my hair; maybe soak my tired feet
maybe soak my tired soul

i'm gonna carry it in a Tupperware in my purse
feast on it on my lunch break; maybe add some pepper
to taste

i'm gonna sit it next to me on the sofa and watch
our favorite movie with it; i'll pop some popcorn and we'll
eat and laugh and

if you don't mind

i'm not going to tell anyone i still love you

*smooches...offering this contribution to Throwback Thursdays*
----------
I don't even remember for whom I wrote this. I must not miss him anymore, whomever he was.

I Prefer A Far-Away Crush

That unattainable man in a picture somewhere that I don't know and will never meet? The one with the messy beard and long dreads? With the washboard abs and chiseled everything else? The one who loves to paint and dance and cook and travel the world? Who loves sports and the arts equally? Who cares about me and my work and my family?
 

SOURCE: beardedandblack

 We're perfect for each other in my head.

All others need not apply.

*smooches...indulging in some internet eye candy*
----------
and don't even bother telling me if you know this guy. It ruins the fantasy if I actually have access to him!

I Saw My Ex's Wedding Video On YouTube

No, not my ex-husband--don't nobody give a rat's ass about that marriage (which, by the way, is already over!). But rather the ex that launched me into the blogosphere in the first place. The one I dated the minute after I ended my marriage. The one responsible for The Breakup Heard Around the World.

I won't sit here and lie and say I was devastated or anything, but there was a sense of melancholy. I wasn't sure why at first. As I watched it I smiled and laughed and was genuinely moved by the video, but then I got in my feelings.

I don't miss him. I don't want him. And when he contacted me a couple of years ago to "get coffee" I gave my phone a side-eye and brushed him off. I made a conscious choice not to engage in whatever that cup of coffee was going to entail. Not because I was still mad or bitter but because what would have been the point? We weren't great friends or anything. Nothing was lost after we split.

Now, I will always remember that he was the best lay EVER. As in EVER. As in NO ONE I've slept with before or since him has measured up. He has the game on lock. The rest of y'all should take lessons from him. Seriously. But that wasn't enough then and now, when I really couldn't care less about carnal activities, it's definitely not enough. So it's not about him. I wish him well and hope he'll be happy with his wife (and new baby boy...yes, my stalker skills are top level).

It's more about me being in the same place where he left me--literally. Same apartment. Same financial status. Same health issues and fatness. Same attitude problems and same issues with men and sex. Watching his wedding video and knowing who he was and how much he's (seemingly) grown makes me feel stunted and unaccomplished. Like I didn't deserve the pedestal he had initially put me on. Like I don't deserve the praise and accolades a lot of you bestow upon me today. I HAVEN'T REALLY DONE ANYTHING BUT SURVIVED. And maybe that's enough for some, but it makes me feel like a failure at life.

Everything around me changes and me? I'm still here, googling shit I know I shouldn't be googling, and then getting in my feelings when I find it.

*smooches...deciding not to look up any more exes*
----------
child if I find out that Mr. Baseball has a wife and baby you may have to come over and sedate me...

Pretty Ni**as

FRIEND: Look at how cute this guy is:



FRIEND: The only thing is he has intermittent facial hair.

ME: I could look past that, however he looks like the type of negro that will rock your socks off BUT have 30 bitches on the side.

FRIEND: It's the thin nose and lips; untrustworthy.

ME: Mhmm. Pretty ni**as always act up.

FRIEND: Mmhmm.

ME: Don't let him have "good" hair. Sheeeeiiiiiittttttt, you'll only see him every other Thursday, talkin' bout "I'm in the studio, bae!"

FRIEND: O_o That's why I don't deal with 'em. I can't take any dude seriously who would be considered mainstream attractive. Like, if a fine dude try to holla at me, I'd catch an attitude. "The fuck you want?!"

ME: LMAO!!! yeah. I like my black men beaten, bruised and with low self-esteem. I need to be the baddest bitch in this relationship, bruh.

FRIEND: Ma'am!

*smooches...lowering my standards in the name of comedy*
----------
or am I?

"Fool For You" Dance Break

Even though I'm on a self-imposed man break, I miss the days when I was crushing on someone. Those honeymoon days, before you or s/he ruins the relationship, are so magical, you really do feel like you're floating on a cloud. Like nothing can touch you and your honey-bunny. Like there's nothing in the world you wouldn't do for them. Kind of how I feel for Netflix.

"Any mistake you make I, I just might forgive..."



Get into it!

*smooches...grooving deep in my seat*
-----------
last time I saw Ms. Smith live she blew my mind; can't wait to go back!

Germaphobe?

(A conversation that transpired with a friend; we were discussing Terrence Howard's latest nuptials and why anyone would marry him so fast. I say money, friend says "dick too bomb." The thought of Terrence Howard's penis made my stomach turn...)

ME: Ewww. I imagine his dick is too yellow. Almost white. And white peen frightens me. It looks undercooked. Like I'm gonna get salmonella from it.

FRIEND: Let yourself out.

ME: *sigh* Fine

FRIEND: And for the record, light-skinned penis is great. They fuck like they have a point to prove.

ME: LMAO!

FRIEND: I've said too much.

*smooches...not too experienced with light-skinned penis*
----------
but please, feel free to share your tales of Yellow Snake Sex.

Race Relations

FRIEND: How come when I look up "multiracial family holiday dinner" in Thinkstock, the minority wife always looks like the help?

ME: Because white dudes always marry help-looking black women. And vice versa. How's that?

FRIEND: That'll play

ME: I must admit- it's extremely rare that I'll come across an interracial couple that doesn't look like what we've described

FRIEND: LoL!

ME: And when I do, the black woman is bi-racial herself. You know what this made me think about?

FRIEND: what?

ME: I've noticed that I'll give a pass to dark-skinned black men who aren't that cute because of their dark-skin. Like I'll still be attracted to them. Is that racist? But let a light-skinned dude be average. I'm all "DO BETTER!"

FRIEND: lmao! Ma'am...

ME: It's reverse for black women. I think Massa has programmed me to think as such...

FRIEND: prolly. It's all Massa's fault

ME: How do I deprogram so I don't end up married to some creature from the black planet (dot com)? I need to see ugly for ugly, and not skin color. I'm too cute to date a creature!

FRIEND: Agreed. I'm programmed to want to physically violate attractive dark skinned men but only want to have the children of light skinned men so I can have brown babies.

ME: LMAO! Ma'am

FRIEND: What? It's true.

ME: We bofe need deprogramming

FRIEND: I'm extra careful every time I sleep with a dark skinned dude. "You gotta wear a condom AND pull out."

ME: I need you to leave and never come back

FRIEND: That's my truth.

*smooches...realizing my friends STILL ain't shit*
----------
but I guess we'll be ain't shit together

Because Bad Credit Isn't Embarrassing Enough

Tonight I met the most beautiful man.

Wait- let me back up a bit and go on a tangent.

Recently, I decided I was done dating. I don't really like myself right now and I REALLY don't like other people, and the thought of a first date makes me want to burrow INTO my sofa instead of just laying on it. And TMI but it has to be said, I don't enjoy sex. It's messy and my fibroids make the act rather painful. The thought of having to fake it YET AGAIN with someone new is too much for me right now. I don't want to. So I decided to just be done with dating because I know how you men are; no sex is a dealbreaker, right? Right.

On another tangent, having to deal with Ks tuition bills and my own suffocating debt has forced me to really face the music about my finances and crawl out of this broke-ass sinkhole once and for all. I have a great job that pays me super-well. There's no reason why I should be emptying out piggy banks at the local CoinStar machine just to buy groceries. At work, I heard about a free service offered by the City to meet with a financial counselor one-on-one and I jumped at the chance. FREE is my favorite word these days, and frankly, all I can afford until I snag up three more jobs like the third cousin twice removed of the Hedleys.



This is where both tangents meet up and give birth to the first sentence of this post.

Tonight I met the most beautiful man. He was tall, brown skin, bearded, fit, smart, well-groomed, funny, charming, and possessed the sexiest pair of lips I've seen in a very long time. He plays football, y'all. FOOTBALL. He owns his own home and other properties. He's so "good on paper" I'd sign off on a myomectomy so fast, just so that I could give him a million babies.

People, he was EVERYTHING in my imagination, at least.

Tonight I met the most beautiful man. But, because my life is a motherfucking sitcom, that man just happens to be the person who is now privy to my atrocious credit score, terrible spending habits, and irresponsibly out-of-control debt.

Touché, Jesus. I see what you did there.

*smooches...losing miserably at life*
-----------
I've never really been good at chess but I do believe this is a checkmate situation, no?

And That's Why She's Walking Around With A Black Eye

ME: (describing my fake alter egos) ...and then there's Maritza- she's a high school drop out, is loud, carries a razor tucked away in her mouth and will cut you if you even think about looking at her man...

N: Wait- how does your alter ego have a boyfriend but you don't.

ME: ...

*smooches...putting a 13-year-old up for sale on eBay*
----------
I mean the absolute NERVE

"Ain't Nobody Got Time For That!"

You know what people love to tell me and other singles, in general? "Relationships take work."

We've been married a gazillion years but it's not been easy, it's a lot of hard work.
To have a happy relationship you gotta put in the work.
If you work at it, both you and your partner will have a happy life.

Bitch, WHAT? WORK? As in MORE WORK THAN I ALREADY DO EVERY MOTHERFUCKING DAY?

Running a country is hard work. Changing a tire is hard work. Staying in love with someone long enough to not want to stab them in the face while they sleep should be a piece of cake! I shouldn't have to clock in and out of my relationship. Or look forward to vacation days away from my boo.

Love shouldn't be work. Love should be my refuge from all that nonsense out in the world. And now I'm to understand that the thing that's supposed to complement my life until the end of days ALSO takes WORK???

Nah, I'm good. Y'all can keep all of that. I think I'll go ahead and buy that Golden Girls house me and the homie Tiffany have been talking about; I got dibs on being Dorothy!

*smooches...ready to STAY single and fabulous, exclamation point*
----------
maybe after I retire I'll be ready for a relationship again

On Divorce...

"The hardest part is realizing you're in charge." -Helen Bishop, "Mad Men"

I'm heavily into this show right now, years and years later. That line spoke to me like no other.

When I split from my ex, I knew it was the right thing to do. Still, I'd been accustomed to someone else always taking the reigns in my life. It was a bucket of ice-cold water to the face to check the Head of Household box on my tax documents. Dude, I was the decision-maker. Me. Moi. If it went well then YAY for me. If it failed there was no one to blame except Jesus, Mary and Joseph.

When people ask me for advice about ending their marriage, I always tell them to really think it through. Not only because I strongly believe you have to try everything to save your relationship before you walk away (quitters never win!) but because the aftermath is something only the strong will survive.

*smooches...counting myself among the strong*
-----------
I consider not shacking up with someone shortly after my divorce as winning. take that statement however you want to take it.

My Friends Ain't Shit

My homie--who lives with a baby momma he cannot stand at all--responded to my request, asking for a ride to the airport tomorrow, like so:

Reckon i cain't seein how massa say Iysa gonna b in de hotbox all week onna counta I came in real late last nite, and imma doit again 2nite...

I just wanted y'all to know I'm not the only one in my circle that's missing a few marbles.

*smooches...appreciating my empty bed tonight*
-----------
there but for the grace of Obama go I...

Working On My Shit

Shortly after writing a small paragraph on how writer's block is nothing more than me seeking an excuse for my procrastination, I decided to keep procrastinating. On EVERYTHING. And it made me sick to my stomach.

I've been meeting with friends recently about plans for our future, stuff we want to accomplish, and let me tell you- it's not going to happen while watching "Orange Is the New Black" on Netflix until I pass out (although that show is really good and maybe you should check it out).

But I need to take advantage of this time: K is about to be out of the house, N is super busy with sports, music and Algebra. Now is when I should be plotting the next phase of my life in preparation for her departure in five years. And there are so many awesome things on my list, whittled down from a GINORMOUS tome that used to include Become A Health & Fitness Expert/Advocate (fuck the fatties!) and Have A Baby With My JHS Crush (my uterus said NO), and it's exciting.

I'm all about that hustle & grind right now: who can I connect with to get to that next level? Where else can I get a byline? Oh look- computers are for more than just watching twerk videos at three in the morning!

I shall be the Queen of Everything Literary, and you will all bow down to my word prowess like the peons that you are.



Or, you know, come visit and say hi.

Make sure you're using your time wisely, folks. Chase your dream everyday in every way. Act like the rent is due (which it is, on Thursday!) and you're still short by ALL OF IT. Light that fire under your ass and invest in yourself before you wreck yourself...

Did that make sense? Whatever, my brain is too busy planning moves. MOVES, SON!

*smooches...getting this work*
-----------
yes, I'm currently obsessed with this song. and so is N. so what!

Mari Speaks On...

...colorism and romance, without meaning to.

In all our dark-skinned glory.

 MARI: Um so this guy I am dating just told me that I am not light-skinned and am brown. He is a keeper! LMAO!

ME: O_o!! Then I'm definitely chocolate.

MARI: Right. Like he is so serious. That single comment boosted his daily ratings.

*smooches...basking in our joint delusions*
----------
listen, I own a mirror. I know what I look like. just let me live...

What A Conversation We Had

We shared a stolen glance;

In a ball gown and black tie room,
a crowd of diamonds and stilettos
and champagne,
our eyes found each other
and smiles followed
yours with slight dimples and creases
mine with sharp edges and adoration.

Silky whispers caressed our ears
a meshed chatter fluttering by
nodded at, ignored

Only your laugh lines hold on to me;
their aged wisdom traveling from
lip to chin, across your brow-
and your smile, I fall into it
like Alice down the rabbit hole

I follow your smile
floating and weightless;
I am airborne in your presence
I can be anywhere, anything
transformed and reinvented

The air kisses my cheeks
chilling the curves of my skin
ruffling the layers of my dress
and when I touch ground it’s
your smile that envelopes me
holds me like a warm blanket
in winter, plush and comforting
and soft—I wrap myself in it each
subsequent night

And then I am on the Sears Tower
looking down at you waiting for
your smile to catch me
I want to fall again
I want to stay in your glance

Across a ball gown and black tie
room, with champagne glasses
and stiletto steps
our eyes found each other and
smiles followed.

And you noticed me.

*smooches...wishing John Paul Cusack the happiest of birthdays*
---------
next week we'll go back to inspirational Fridays. promise!

The Case For "Something New"

On Sunday, while meeting with the ladies of my writing group, the conversation turned to relationships and one of the ladies said of her openness to date a white man, "I would like to date someone who hasn't experienced the burden of slavery." And while we all burst out in hysterical laughter at her comment, her statement made so much sense to me.

Every guy I've dated has had some remnant of our oppressive past on his shoulders, just sitting there, waving to me from across the table. And you know what? It does get exhausting after a while. Why can't things just be easy? Why can't we just be and live? Oh, right, because The Man is systematically keeping us down. Crap. I almost forgot, but thanks for reminding me as we wait an extra 15 minutes for our table to be ready.

Still, Sunday's conversation had me thinking about my friends who are married to white men, and how those men don't have the defeated aura hanging around them like a clingy ex. They grew up with their dads. They've never been profiled by the cops. They didn't try to get some sleep under a hail of gunfire. Must be nice. I'll just add this to the list of things I won't ever have a chance to experience, like climbing Mt. Everest or running a 5K.

This doesn't mean I've changed my position on dating a white man...I really just don't find them that attractive. But listen, my writing group buddies made a very good case. It's a much more carefree life when you're with the unoppressed, and who doesn't want a carefree life? I get it, ladies, and I promise not to mock you when I see you arm-in-arm with a snowflake.

Me? I'm still waiting out Johan's and Slash's marriages...

*smooches...content in my singlehood*
-----------
listen, you don't have to tell me that I'm not going to find my chocolate Adonis. I already know and I've accepted my fate.