August 2009 Archives

Real quick - I'm sick of whining:: I can't take the sound of my thoughts revisiting my myriad & sundry bad dates at the moment. If I have to put fingers to keyboard one more time, to TRY and describe how far dating has fallen for me - I may slice off my own dayum fingers, m'kay?

Not to mention the whining of my single female friends - and given the "70% of black single professional women" circle of sisters I run with, that's a whole lot of whining. So, I'm taking my dating life back. It's mine to enjoy (or suck at) as I please.

My dating life?:: you're probably thinking - WTF is she babbling about? Well, simply - I ALLOW a lot of bullshyt that I wouldn't have entertained - even jokingly - 10 years ago. Paying for my own drinks? Brothas basically and unsubtly attempting to rationalize their brutish behavior? Dudes lining up the next date while WE'RE still at dinner? Getting rated on the Real Housewives of Atlanta scale of attractiveness (I don't care HOW many men are watching this - I call bullshyt on this being pop-culturally correct)? Hell, naw shawty - to use a Southern-fried colloquialism, where dey do dat at?

But, I put up with this - or ignored it, which amounts to a tacit approval. The 20/30-something Saga woulda raged like the Bull she was born as. But the 40+-year old Saga, like a lot of her sister-friends, thinks that raging is a waste of energy. So instead of a well-placed & indignantly loud "brotha, please!", I've been wont to pay the janky 1st date bill, send a text "delete my number" or some overly graceful way of pulling out. Honestly - these guys deserve a collective slap upside the head.

My point is - we're responsible for the way men treat us:: and all the whining in the world isn't going to change that. I have a good friend, who's kinda smart, and happily married, who - like a lot of my male friends - tells me to man up. Not "Act Like a Lady, Think Like a Man" man-up though. No, he's more of a slap me in the back of the neck, and say "Saga, you knew better when you even entertained that fool" kinda brotha. And with him calling bullshyt, on my ability to engage and entertain bullshyt, I have no choice but to tell a brotha to "get to steppin".

Yeah, before you say it - I know and I agree - we shouldn't have to change our behavior because some men are so brolic. Men should man up. Should. But damnit, I'm not holding my breath until that happens. You shouldn't either.

Meanwhile, some reading material:: If you're like me, and have been feeling some kind of way, do something about it. I'm reading Michael Eric Dyson's "Why I Love Black Women" and have Hill Harper's "The Conversation: How Black Men & Women Can Build Loving, Trusting Relationships" on preorder. I intend to actually open the floor (and my home) up for some conversations about the current state of relations between us - and hopefully this discourse will give me some encouragement.

And I've got my pimp hand ready. Seriously. I'm not a bag lady - I'm not going to make a "good guy" pay for the mistakes the previous "bad" brothers made with me.

But.

I have no problem calling bullshyt when I see it. And slapping the offender upside the head accordingly. You should try it - it's cathartic.

I am a woman obsessed, and I blame those damn Louboutin Rolandos for starting this. It may be the Taurus in me (you know once we see it, it's hard to turn us elsewhere) -but I'm ♥ totally in love with the color red for fall ♥ and since Fall cannot start fast enough for me ("I'm me-el-lt-ing"), let's have it now - RED!

First off - I found this lil fabu bag at a cart in Perimeter mall:
It may just be my infatuation - but I'm a fiend for a nice red bag (click pic to enlarge). From those vegan Stella McCartney's from '07 - to a nice oversize envelope clutch in a beautiful shade of cherry - I love a red bag. And this bag was perfectly priced (can't disclose - I gotta a good deal). This will look perfect with a black & white tweed sheath, or those Louboutins...


Then add the perfect shade of red lipstick:
I'm a lil anal about my neutrality - a M.A.C. fanatic, I've got more nudes than Rembrandt - but for fall, I love strong colors. Like my Black Opal lipstick in "Be Currant". (click pic to enlarge). Ok, so it's not M.A.C. - I love makeup - and am not a brand/label whore - I like what works for me despite pricepoint and advertising.

So, Be Currant is a nice shade of cherry with good coverage. Applied heavily - and it resembles a deep, dark cherry (True Blood, anyone?) Applied lightly - it leans toward a nice bing - and it stains your lips - so that it wears well, i.e. if you eat, it stays. (And be careful kissing - it stains Him too....lol).


...and a nice pair of comfy red flats:
So, these are not the reverred Louboutins. But these cute Knots from N.Y.L.A (click pic to enlarge). are a pretty shade of red, with kitten heels to avoid looking super casual. a that knot detail is a nice touch.


So, what to wear with all this red? Why - anything. White and black (obviously) - but I'd love to see these pulled off with a nice violet, or a deep blue.

And are you wondering how to wear red liptsick? Try a neutral face - not the pale vampirish look that a lot of folks are unsuccessfully trying - but say a nice bronze or cocoa eye, lots & lots of lashes, and no blush - Yum! Make sure your foundation is flawless - no blemishes to distract from your lips.

My neutral game is crazy - check out my makeup bag (below - click pic to enlarge).
In order:

1. MAC PlushGlass in Big Kiss


2. MAC LipGlass in Fancy That


3. MAC LustreGlass in Love Nectar


4. MAC LipGlass in Viva Glam V


5. MAC LustreGlass in Beaux


6. MAC Eyeshadow Quad in Diana Eyes II (Icon Collection for Diana Ross) - colors from darkest to lightest Showstopper,Dance Mix, FlipSide and Shroom


7. NARS Sheer lipstick inCorinthe


8. Maybelline Lash Stilletto in Very Black


9. MAC Frost Eyeshadow in Bronze


10. MAC Paint Pot in Rubenesque


11. Bobby Brown Pot Rouge in Calypso Coral


12. Max Factor 2000 Calorie Lash Extreme in Extreme Blackout


13. MAC Studio Fix in NW45


14. MAC Frost Eyeshadow in Paradisco

...and I'm too tired to try to pretty it up, wrap it in metaphors or analogies, or express it as prose. And I'm too tired to pull the punch, make it sound less ____ (angry, bitter or whatever adjective you'd like to use). So I'm gonna serve it straight, let it ramble, and hope that letting it out lets me get some sleep.

I stood in my kitchen, labeling bookbags, notebooks and clothes et. al. for the first day of school, for the 10th time for my son, which makes my 22nd time overall. And suddenly I squeezed out a few tears, angry tears, frustrated tears, sad tears, but tears, nevertheless. And I tried to figure out why I was crying..

I had another wack date, well - 2 in fact....

Date One:: with a guy I knew wouldn't be interested and frankly - I'm not sure why I even went, other than to prove myself right. And he rambled on, like most men do, about why the dating game for women in Atlanta sucks so badly, and the 0-10 rating system men use to rate women. His scale was based on Real Housewives of Atlanta, with Lisa being a 12 (on a 10 scale) and Kandi being about a 5. My suspicions about his interest were confirmed when he said Oprah was a zero on this scale, for looking completely busted sans makeup (I've been told too many times that we could be distant cousins to ignore the signifigance of his remarks).

But the capper of the "meeting" (you'll see why it wasn't a date in a moment) was when the bill came. This guy had ordered a Coke, and informed the waiter that "we won't be eating - just drinking a single drink". Well, about 3/4's into my margerita, I realized that I'd skipped lunch and dinner, so I ordered spinach dip. As Mr. RHOA rated Oprah, I got a 2nd margerita. So when the bill came, $20.13 - of course Mr. RHOA insisted he was only paying for A drink. A as in single - his. I politely pulled out a $20, told Mr. RHOA that I'd prepared for this as soon as he shooed the waiter off, and that his behavior was typical of a dude that would pay $20 to enter a club, $10 to buy a stranger a drink, but pay $6 for the drink of someone he'd invited out. Clearly, he would've eaten that whole bill if I looked remotely like Lisa or Kandi (him being about a 5 on his own scale). But I was Oprah, and I guess I'm supposed to be grateful that I got a drink.

Date Two:: wasn't really a date, but lunch with a friend. A friend who is married, that I talk to regularly and enjoy our conversations. Problem is I'm bitter and jaded, and listen to too many of my guy friends who say "married men don't make friends with single women just for the sake of expanding their social network. They try to get some sideline p*ssy." Problem is, this isn't the first time this has happened - other married men have pretended to want to be friends, so that they could ease their way into my bed. And no matter how much I'd like to believe this brother is on the up & up, that idea is nagging at me. That and a random remark from him that "now he understands why I'm single."

Incident Three:: is an ex, well more like an ex jump off for many reasons that I can't get into. And who has a penchant for dirty talk all the time, via phone call, IM or txt, which I find very tasteless. While he finds it sexy, I've always thought it to be rather base and a turn off. And I've told him this, repeatedly. I've finally had to minimize contact, because he wasn't taking the straight talk about it - f*ck a hint.

Combine all this with spending time school clothes shopping with my ex - who despite being an abusive philanderer involved in an incestuous relationship with his cousin, still makes comments about wanting to f*ck me. And my having an uphill single mom battle trying to get the boy ready for school in the AM, and getting his registered tomorrow, and the dates that cancelled at the last minute with no real plausible reason, and my paying for a sitter regardless, and...

I'm frustrated. Those ideas seem unrelated - my frustration with the guys I spend time with (too wack to call them dates) and prepping Hammy for the 1st day of high school, but they're not.

back to the tears:: I squeezed tears out of my eyes, forced them out, hoping beyond hope that I could get them out, and feel a little peace - enough that I'd be able to go right to sleep. And as my eyes welled up, and the first tear stained my cheek, I thought:

"I never asked for this, yanno? I never prayed to be 'strong'. I never decided 'I want to be independent'. I never said 'please, fill my life with challenges so that I can be tested by fire....molded like a sword, pounded, honed, steel-like'. And I certainly didn't want to become so unappealing for having become a 'survivor'." I'm standing here in this kitchen, in this fly house I worked so hard for, prepping for another battle, and all I want is someone whose shoulder I can lean on, and for them to hold me up instead of beating me up about who I am. All I want is to trust someone enough to let my guard down, to take down the electified fencing, and lower the moat....and know that they won't rob & pillage...I just want someone who will just let me be...

The tears lasted about 10 seconds - I squeezed out a couple, then they dried up as I pushed the thoughts away. I thought: "I don't have the time to be soft, or sensitive. I've got shyt to do".

But as I write this, they're back. And I don't know how it's possible, but at the moment - I'm feeling like a "bust down" - unworthy of daylight, or a date that I don't also have to pay for, as well as slightly shady as a parent (for no good reason - other than the poor choice I made of a coparent). So really....

I just want to scream:: I'm not your personal sperm receptacle. I'm not your sounding board about the issues between black men and women. I'm not your raggedy justification for why you want to date outside the race. I'm not the barometer for your attractiveness as a man. I'm not the placeholder p*ssy you hold onto until something better comes along - or as an alternative to the residential p*ssy you already have on deck. I'm not the angry black woman you use as an excuse to justify your selfish behavior. I'm a PERSON. I have feelings. And just because you're not attracted to me - that's no justifaction for your inexcusably boorish behavior.

I want to love a black man, I truly do. But they make it so f*cking hard and undesirable.

Ok, so maybe if I blog about them, I can stop obsessing about them, hm?

the 40's:: Ok, I know the kids are all having this current love affair with the 80's, glowsticks, neon colors, et al. Hell, I'll even buy a neon item or paint my nails neon green. But if I was going to be honest - I remember 80's fashion, and it was not all neon colors, leggings and big shoulders. Besides, my 40 yr old thighs are hardly made for leggings. No, my obsession is with the 40's - pegged pencil skirts, serious stillettos, menswear inspired yet hyper feminine suits, red lipstick, et. al. Hell, where do you think the strong shoulders of the 80's actually came from?

Yes, I want that Alexandre Herchcovitch (faux) fur stole - I found this cute turtleneck sheath in a black & white tweed, that it would pair nicely with. And given these Christian Louboutin Rolandos, I think we have an outfit (I'm also envisioning a Stella McCartney from '05-06, but that's going to be a tough one to find):

On a side note - the Louboutins are from 2008 I believe, but that won't stop me from trying to track them down...they are the object of my current obsession.

the 80's:: ok, they weren't completely devoid of style. Pop art prints, punk fashions, studs, motorcycle styles - there were some highlights. So being "of a certain age", I'd try the magazine print as shown via Miss Sixty at right, with maybe some dark slim jeans, or leather pants. Or a pop art clutch purse, a graphic tee (I ♥ graphic tees, if you hadn't noticed) with Keith Haring notes. There's still a lot that's salvageable from the 80's, without looking like one of the club kids from an old Sally Jesse Raphael show.

I also love this whole Gucci look:
What appears to be leather pants in this pic is actually a pair of thigh high boots - ♥ these! Paired with this dress, it all screams punk, yet feminine. 80's, yet futuristic. So, so fresh.

Aight - I'm out. I have to find those damn shoes. And the faux fur stole to match. So much for purging my obsessions ;)