We make time for what’s important.

This is what I know. A man that is truly interested in you, will not let the sun set without connecting with you. Ever. Unless one of you is incapacitated. That’s the truth. I promise.

Same goes for a woman. At the minimum, there will be a good morning text, a midday check in, or a “how was your day” to shut it all down. I promise.

I know a man is interested in me when he wants to be the first and last person I connect with each day. Equally, I know that a man is not that interested when he lets the day pass without ensuring I’m “good.” Literally the text I’d get from my exe, “you good?” Randomly throughout the day. I knew we were solid…until we weren’t. And I knew we weren’t when the communication started to die. We got to a point that we weren’t hitting the minimum. He wasn’t interested in connecting with me. No hard feelings, though. I promise.

Pay attention to who makes times for you. We are all very busy. Time is precious, and it has to be manipulated often. Give credit to the person who found a couple minutes to check in. Ignore the person who claims to not have been able to find the time. Because they are only too busy for you. I promise.

We make time for what’s important. I promise.

40 feels good.

This is 40…

I’ve had A LOT of anxiety about turning 40. It came up so quickly. My youth is behind me. Technically, I’ve bypassed middle age. We may never know, but IJS.

40 didn’t feel celebratory. It felt inevitable. It was this 24th day of January, or die on the 23rd. Happy I made it through. Even though I’m convinced heaven will be so incredible we will feel stupid for being nervous, I want to stay here. I want to love my boys, drink margs and eat queso, travel this world, and drive around in my new Bronco for awhile. I’m not done. Please God, let me stay.

Tangent.

40 makes me anxious because although I’ve accomplished stuff, I’m behind. I’m not where I’d planned to be. I’ve so much work to do. I have to get things done while the getting is good, as I’ve been told.

I’m studying change. I want change in my own life. The old ways haven’t gotten me any new success. I’m manifesting the greatest accomplishments, putting in the work, demanding what I want, and saying no EVERY SINGLE TIME it feels right.

I am embracing this next decade with everything in me. I’m anxious and apprehensive. I’m terrified and excited. I’m ready. 40 is going to be this expansive, extensive, adventure that I’ll learn and grow in. I’m taking everything it has to offer. I’ll put my feet up in my 50s.

XOXO

Today

I’m sitting in a salon chair. It’s been about 15-20 minutes of hair color doing it’s thing. I’m spilling my guts to my hair stylist. I’m wallowing in the chaos of my life, and she’s refusing to let me throw this pity party. She’s pouring positivity into my situation. She’s encouraging me. She’s building me up. She’s loving me wholeheartedly.

This is the only type of relationship I want in my 40s, and I’m just days away from entrance. I’ve had everything else. I’ve been everywhere else. I’m only entertaining the absolute best for me in this next decade. Personally, I’m living in the moments. I’m taking it day by day.

Because anything else will destroy me. I recognize that.

Grateful for the people who remind you of the way God works, the strength you forgot you had, and the beauty of your talents.

XOXO

FYI: Professionally, I’m knocking off heads and demanding everything I want. IJS. The personal me, and the professional me, will have more separation.

Must I repeat myself?

Few years back I talked to this guy. He was nice enough, handsome enough, and carried enough of a conversation to maintain my interest for months. We had chemistry, but nothing ever came of it. Then we fizzled out.

Couple years later, we started again. Same chemistry, and we moved a little further along. Then it blew up. He played silly games. There was unnecessary conflict. It came to a hard stop.

Couple years after that, he resurfaced. We had a conversation about the past early on. I didn’t want to live that again. Any resemblance of the past was a deal breaker. I can’t keep traveling the same paths expecting different destinations.

It imploded. Felt it big, but it wasn’t much of a show. I just faded into black. I wasn’t going to have another conversation about expectations and what was. I just wanted to leave.

Couple months later, he pops up out of nowhere with a declaration and hope. Nah, bruh. I can’t do it again. I can’t keep repeating myself to adults. Especially not to adults where I’m not clocked in, earning compensation for regurgitating these words. Because my hourly wage is the only thing that would encourage me to do this for the umpteenth, or third-ish, time with you. Believe that.

The fact that I gave you those other chances has led you to believe I always will, and that’s very false. I misled you. I apologize.

Your inability to lead a strong relationship, to do what you say, and be accountable are really undesirable characteristics. I’m no longer attracted to you, but we can always be cool.

Are you having good sex?

I seldom discuss sex because my aunties have access to this, but I feel compelled. I’ve recently, in the same week, talked to 2 different women that have been having awful sex.

They didn’t even know.

It reminds me of that moment you put on your glasses for the first time and realize everyone else has been seeing clearly. Wow.

I have been nominated, by the masses, to tell you that sex is supposed to be amazing.

I mean REALLY amazing. Change your life fantastic. Every cliche statement out there is true. Rock your world. Earth shattering. Incredible. Extraordinary. Back blown out. Sweat soaked sheets. Edges nappy. All encompassing!

When it’s done correctly.

That’s the key.

IF it’s done correctly.

If you don’t feel this way, he or the combination of the two of you, are not doing it right. You’re doing it all wrong, and you should stop immediately. Immediately.

If desire is intact, there are resources to help you. Communicate, because the first thing is always first. Have a conversation. Discuss your likes and dislikes, no one reads minds. Slow it down. Take your time. Get intimate. There’s a difference in intimacy and sex. They’re related though, and unless it’s just a hook up, they NEED each other. Then try to read a book, watch a video, or visit a website. New techniques can’t hurt, or the arousal of seeing or discussing someone else might increase the passion.

Passion is a key word. Desire and passion. If they exist, you can figure this out.

If you aren’t emotionally invested or they are a selfish participant, why are you even getting undressed? Why let them inside of your body? Why waste your time? Those are real questions that deserve answers.

I’m too old to have trash intercourse, and too busy. If the stars have aligned just right for me to be available, kid free, and emotionally invested, it better be new age, next level, can’t buy this shit in stores perfect. It needs to have me having tremors up to 48, nah 72, hours later. I need to spend the next day smiling in recollection. Otherwise, miss me completely. I’d rather continue on this vow of celibacy.

For clarity’s sake, you cannot expect the world laying on your back like a dead body. Participate. It’s not a one man job. It feels like that should be clear, but just in case I’m literally saying to you: “Get in there sis, and do your part!”

Follow up conversations and tutorials aren’t available. You gotta do the work. I’ve led you to the water. Drink.

For my aunties, this is educational only. Celibacy is totally intact.

What’s the timeline?

What’s the timeline to do relationship stuff?

Does the timeline bend and curve by age or status?

How is this all supposed to work?

I’m speaking with a friend of mine. Crash and burn relationship. And, she’s beating herself up over 1. when they slept together, 2. when she introduced him to her family, and 3. when she said I love you. She’s all but called herself an idiot, and sounds like the moment right before tears. Classic sharp inhales and sniffles.

1. I recall this episode of Girlfriends. Joan is explaining that you shouldn’t sleep with a man before the third date, or on the third date. Something like that. Ummm…okay? Maybe.

Date? Like pick me up or meet me at a venue. We dress the part. Chat over appetizers. Laugh over cocktails. We offer each other bites of our food. Ooh and ahh. Then kiss once on the first date. More passionately on the second. And, then our clothes will fall off at the end of the third? That doesn’t sound totally reasonable. What if we hike? Or, paint? Or, do coffee and I nibble on a cheese danish or muffin, all cute?

What if we aren’t traditional, Joan?

What are the new rules supposed to be? Why are there rules? Why aren’t we comfortable doing grown folks shit when we feel grown enough to do it. Disclaimer: When you are a legal and responsible grown folk with another legal and responsible grown folk.

2. Meeting my family always feels like such an undertaking. I’d welcome rules.

How about the time my boyfriend surprised me? Showed up at my house unannounced. Then my mom came over. I had to make an introduction. It was sooner than expected, but I wasn’t gonna hide either of them in a closet.

You strike in the moment then. Play it by ear otherwise?

And, my kids. I don’t like introducing men to my kids. It’s such a slippery slope. Even when you think they could be a good one, they can totally disappoint you. Too soon could be always.

3. And, in my youth I followed the girlfriend love rules. Never say it first. Never accept it during sex. And, depending on how you’re feeling you can say it back or say thanks with a sly smile.

Not anymore. Life is too short. If I love you, I’ll tell you. When I love you, I’ll probably assess my feelings for a week or two. Then I’ll happily tell you. It’s not a secret. It’s not a weakness. And, I won’t say it because you did. If I’m not there, I’ll be honest. No sly smiles.

In conclusion…

All of this to say, there’s no real timeline. You have to move based off your relationship and your feelings.

My major advice: Don’t act in honeymoon bliss. Don’t make any decisions while you’re still in that window of perfection. Your reputation and credibility are pending. Make quality decisions. Give everyone time to have dropped the fake shit. Once you’ve seen them angry or frustrated, with a few drinks in them, or having to make a major decision you’ve seen the real them. That’s when you should be most comfortable moving forward.

Carry on, and good luck out there.

Conditions

I have given unconditional love. I’m actually quite good at it. I’m from a family that never throws you away. I have a gang of aunties and family that never quite divorced in the divorce. Love is a tie that binds forever. It is unconditional.

I subscribe to that. I believe in that. If I ever loved you, don’t doubt that my love, at some level and wave length, is forever. That’s guaranteed.

That probably sounds like a contradiction, but it’s not. Because, my relationships have conditions. I’m not going for just anything.

Prompted by a conversation, of course. She loves him with no limits. They have two kids together. There’s no ring. There’s been no question.

No judgement. Many of us are standing in our own pile of shit.

He hasn’t fully committed. May never fully commit. One foot in the relationship family. One foot in his bachelorhood.

She loves him unconditionally though. They have two kids. It’s been off and on for seven years. She doesn’t want to let him go for him to straighten up for the next woman. She’s just gonna keep holding on?

Don’t do this.

Put conditions on this relationship. Have requirements. Demand the standard, and expect more based on what y’all have established as the blueprint of your relationship.

Conditions are okay. We expect them with everything else. Look for them. Respect them.

Because, if he can’t get on board with a healthy relationship, you need to move on anyway.

So love with your whole heart, but handle your relationships with reason and respect, too.

It’s all going to work out. I promise.

Realization

I don’t want you to realize how valuable I was once I’m gone. Love me now.

The exes are popping up like whoa. Enjoying the moments, but hating them at the same time. Another “I wish I knew how good you were at the time.” Huh? Fool.

I’m happy you let me go. I’m happy I escaped. I’m grateful for the lessons learned, and the trauma I won’t let go of. You changed my life.

Now, I’d like to end this walk down memory lane.

Because no one wants to hear how amazing they were after the fact, NO ONE. Should I thank him?

All that time I was right there in front of you, being sacrificed, unappreciated, disrespected you disregarded me. I’m only worthwhile now because I was strong enough to leave. Confidence IS attractive.

I’ve seen a ghost.

“I have just seen a ghost.”

Is that an appropriate statement when the exe you NEVER thought you’d see again pops up? I mean he wasn’t dead. He’s not even lost. I’ve known his general geographical location. He’s just been lost to me. So, he’s kinda been dead for years.

So yeah, I’ve seen a ghost.

How did I react? I think ghost sightings are standard run-tell-that situations. I’ve run, and I’m currently in tell-that. I have no idea what comes next. I’m not even sure I want to entertain a full conversation. I just don’t know.

He said I’m the one that got away. When? When you pushed me away? Is that what you mean? It’s as if we were in two drastically different relationships.

What’s new? What’s next? We’ve already been here. We’ve already done this. It’s gotta be drastically different to venture this path again. Seriously, I can’t travel this road again. The destination is bullshit.