Some guys are like gentle laxatives … they help you keep it moving!!

Hello again ladies … welcome to some others

In my ever increasing attempt to stay true to my 2010 campaign promise of ridding myself of all things lame I cannot let my last episode go by without it being exposed for the gem it was.

Have you ever wondered why certain unworthy prospects fall into your lap one day and fall out of it the next? Well, “fall” is a bit passive – You usually have to push them out, but tomato/tom-ah-toe. Nevertheless, instead of interpreting another man come and gone as another lost prospect consider yourself lucky! Because it’s only when certain moons, stars, and energies align that those relatively harmless dates come along to remind you and reaffirm your decision to never settle again and to keep it moving till a worthy one comes along.

This was my story for the past few weeks. The story is a familiar one, I’m sure: Cute girl lets “Okay” dude get some of her time. Cute girl doesn’t give “it” up. Okay guy loses some interest. Cute girl doesn’t care and plays the side lines. Okay guy starts showing his true colors, which are probably olive green mixed with grey or something equally as unattractive. Actually the colors are uglier – they are the colors of anger issues, anger management issues, mom issues, undeserved entitlement, etc.

Now I’ll be honest, the fact that yet another guy had appeared (and at first glance seemed a bit legitimate) almost got me down … for about 30 seconds. I almost started on the road asking myself the perennial question, “Why do I keep attracting weirdos?” (Well, I have several theories as to why, but that’s another day – another blog). However, THIS TIME instead of jumping to psychoanalyze myself, my mind kindly drifted towards a pleasant epiphany. There definitely have been times in the past where I settled to just to have someone around, whether I was really into them or not – which in the long run brought me inevitable stress and heartbreak. So, what I realized this time is that asking myself “why do these weirdos keep coming and going” is WAY better than having to ask myself, “Why am I in a relationship with a weirdo?” Finally, I’ve learned the ancient art of keeping it moving.

Ahh, the sweet smell of Progress: If you are able to spend quality face to face time, quality phone time, and gas money, and at the end of a few weeks confidently decide “Hmm … he’s not cutting it” and totally drop it without regret, self deprecation, the urge to find another rebound, or the urge to keep him around as a filler in the space, etc. YOU my friend are on your way to a very liberated life. Better yet, if you are able to totally walk away thinking “Hmm, it’s about time I invite my friends over more, pick up another hobby, look into getting a pen pal, or anything else remotely productive and 100% enriching you’re already working on a 2011 campaign promise. It’s yet to be named but it will be fierce (maybe not as fierce as RuPaul – but I will be sure to somehow incorporate “Lip Sync fo yo Life”).

Sooo just a lil encouragement to let those “lame-o’s be ur motivators” so to KEEP IT MOVING and fighting the good fight.

“And then there were two…”

Sounds like a season two episode of Sex and the City, I know. Might as well should have been. Imagine me in an eclectic Carrie Bradshaw outfit with a cosmo in hand turning to Miranda saying, “And then there were two.” Well, substitute the Manolo Blahniks for DSW Clearance’s Finest and you’ll get a similar picture.

The title declaration was made at a Bedstuy housewarming party. Me and my dear friend, who I’ll call Park Slope, ventured a few stops down the G train to warm a house occupied by my very good guy friend from college and his current hot girl friend. I say “hot” not just in regards to looks. When I say hot I mean got her shit together hot.

You know what else was hot that day? The temperature. It was close to 90 degrees that day in New York, and thanks to global warming and glass high rises I had to keep the slow stroll going all day long. Actually I don’t think I’ve ever walked so slow in my life, especially in NY. I crept to the R train from the Megabus, and then did the slowfoot shuffle to Park Slope’s apartment, and then proceeded to move as little as possible while in the apartment since the air was turned off pending Park Slope’s moniker soon becoming Silver Spring. It was hot and I was trying as hard as possible not to break a sweat. “Why?” do you ask? Because there might be guys there.

There might be guys at this housewarming party. There might be guys so I can’t move too fast as to disrupt my temperamental non-tamed afro. There might be guys there so we HAVE to stop at Mandee’s, because in my rush to catch the 7:30am bus I left the house with only one earring on. There might be guys there, so I must pick an outfit suited for 90 degree weather, i.e. an outfit that won’t have me sweating bullets after one cup of captain and coke. (Just finished glass three of the 3 dollar wine – hmm 3:3, should I make a wish or something?)

I admit it; my day was in part charted by the fact that there might be guys there. But I’m shameless! Guys have been operating with the M.O. “there might be girls there” since their voices started to crack. Apparently, I’m slowly moving from Carrie to Samantha.

But the case in point is this: Regardless or in vain of all my calculated moves, there were no guys there. You know who was there? It was me and Park Slope exponentially multiplied; every single girl and her single girlfriend. Which means that then there were two represents several revelations. First it represents that there is some competition out there, no matter how much I sincerely embrace Sister Girl Love, its real. Secondly, it represents the anxiety caused by “there might be guys there”. Being pressed is not feng shui/good energy. Thirdly, then there were two means that if you are single and you bring your single friend make sure she’s not a dry biscuit – you may be stuck with her the entire night. (I’m glad to say I left for about thirty minutes to make friends with some randoms in the corner and I turned to see Park Slope raising the roof with another single girl two-some not too far form the DJ booth and was very proud to have a non-dry friend).

Lastly, and perhaps the most prolific revelation is that “two” is one step away from “one”. You can either be paranoid by that fact, or fully embrace it. Then there were two can be a pretty liberating place to be, if you’ll let it. I’m proud to boast that this grown woman maturity I’m gaining is allowing me to embrace it. I can honestly say that if it were just Me, Myself, and I at the party – I would have counted the other single lady across the room as my number two. I would have introduced myself to her and whoever else was in an arms reach. Because guess what happens when you’re bold enough to do so: You find an Au-Naturale stylist who gives you tips on your temperamental afro. You get compliments on the random cheetah print stud earrings in which you had to endure bad NY customer service to buy, you make up excuses to introduce yourself to the random folks who don’t know anyone else in the corner, and at the very end of the day … you’re open enough to feel the warmth of a house that already has a good chi flowing through it.

So, in my DSW sandals and with my blue solo cup in hand I give a solid once over of the sea of women at the party, turn to Park Slope and say “So… this is what it is from now on, huh?” Park Slope affirmatively shrugs and says,“Yup.” And of course, in true Joi form, I throw my head back, shout a quick laugh, and say “‘And then there were two’”. I quickly record it in my blackberry, and walk inside to see if any interesting people might be hanging out in the living room.

love joi

Questions?

Please respond to Joi @ joi@qumag.com