Tuesday, April 12, 2011

A Dream from an Admitted Non Dreamer

I don’t dream often.

I mean, I dream in the wishing sense that basketball players tell you.

“Dream, big! You can be anything you want to be…”

Like that.

But, in sleep--the type of dreams my people call reveyons—those dreams rarely ever happen to me.

Unless someone is speaking to me.

I had a dream on Sunday night. And for a non dreamer who dreams, it was a heavy one. I’ve been trying to put it together in my head for the past few days. I have stewed over it and gone to sleep early about it, praying each time beforehand that my grandmother would come again and expound. I even took a nap about it, impatient to find out what it might mean.

Let me tell you the dream…

Wednesday, January 5, 2011

4:46 a.m, 4:47 a.m., 4:48a.m....


I don’t know the exact moment I fell in love with him. Somewhere between the 29th and 30th of a certain month of a certain year after the millennium between 4:46 and 4:47 in the morning when the sun was squeezing in between the moon and the horizon to peer through my window and cast a slant of light on his chocolate face, his mouth slightly opened to leave the most subtle gusts of air on my nose as he exhaled.

And then I inhaled.

Yea, I think that’s when I fell in love with him, as I waited for the hours to pass by so that I could peer into those beautiful eyes and make sure.

Because you usually don’t know love until you see the eyes. The eyes, they burn into yours and suddenly, somewhere in between noses, that spark happens. Maybe “sizzle” is a better word. It’s a feeling so potent that the air between the two people runs away blushing, and suddenly, there’s nothing between you and his lips but that last brave breathe.

All happens in the eyes, I used to think.

Thursday, December 23, 2010

HELLO to A Belle in Brooklyn Followers

I was SUPER blessed with the opportunity to be a guest blogger on my favorite writer, Demetria L. Lucas, blogger and Essence Relationships Editor and soon-to-be life coach's blog, A Belle in Brooklyn!! I'm so ecstatic!

Feel free to leave questions or comments at www.abelleinbrooklyn.com, or here at The Pseudo Fab Life! I would love to hear from you!!! I will try to get to all the comments!

I can't stop smiling, and am so blessed to share this blessing with you all!

XOXOXO!

~Steph

Wednesday, December 8, 2010

Crushes, Curiosity, and that Damn Cat

Let me start by saying that G-chat is the devil and the demise of productivity in the workplace. But I’m sure we all know this.

Talking with a close male friend on the never ending topic of relationships, we stumbled upon the topic of crushes that happen during a relationship. He was of the opinion that a solid relationship can be in danger if one person has a crush.

Look? Sure. Such is humanity.

Emote? Never.

And as I read the transcript of his explanation on the perils of maintaining a crush and full time beau, I couldn’t help but remember…

*~*~*~

He was perfect. The perfect shade of dark chocolate sans the bitter after taste; tall enough for my stiletto collection but normal enough for my nose to fit inside the crevice of his neck; cupped my face gently for a kiss but grabbed my arm and shook occasionally to signal he wasn’t playing; Mommy loved him to pieces but Daddy knew he was a bad boy somewhere inside. Thrilling, yet stable. Came with baggage but wouldn’t tolerate my dramatics. Would hop in the bed just long enough to say goodnight, and would slide out so that, when I rolled over, I’d see his silhouette as he pleaded for the words in a book to make sense by twilight, his pen air drumming between his pointer and middle fingers. Oh, and he had “the dip.” (See: “So... It Happened.. Now What?”) He read every version of every story I ever wrote.

Thursday, October 7, 2010

Weaves, Wigs and the Black Man: A Tale of Woe


Recently, I was talking to a close male friend when he abruptly blurted out:

"Why do Black women put that fake crap in their hair? Don't they see it's ruining their beauty?"

Hmm.

Friday, September 24, 2010

Double Standard: The Entitlement Issue

On my usual Friday perusing of the blogosphere, I jumped on a posting by Demetria Lucas, Author and Essence Magazine Relationships Editor’s (www.abelleinbk.com; proceed with caution, it’s addictive. I. Love. Her.) entitled “Do you care what your man thinks? Should you?” (Fab read.)


Her inspiration was an article on Nicole Bitchie’s Blog by LJ Knight. So I decided to take a look at some of his articles, since I’ve been hearing his name tossed around as of late.


And this stood out to me:


“Men feel that they are entitled to a good woman regardless of their behavior. Good is how a woman is supposed to be in their minds. She is supposed to be virtuous, understanding and completely accepting of all of the issues and drama that he may come with. It doesn’t matter how he behaves. She is supposed to play her role regardless, because she is a woman. So, no matter how well you treat him, it won’t affect his behavior toward you. In his mind, you are behaving like you should. You are giving of yourself the way a good woman is supposed to. There is nothing significant about that to them.”

First reaction: *blank stare*


First thought: “That’s BS”


Second thought: “It’s true though.”


Third thought: “Still BS.”


I was reminded of a conversation I had with one of my male friends, who shall remain nameless. We discussed a girl he was, in an attempt to keep it PG-13, “smushing (see: Jersey Shore: smush, smushed, smush room.). She was a pretty girl with banging body, armed with a degree, fairly attractive and obviously liked the HELL out of my friend.


But he was stuck, fixated even, on another girl who just wouldn’t “go” --shoutout to my Chi town folk. Read: “smush” above--and wasn’t nearly as attractive as the “goer”(person who “goes). He took her to dinner, the movies, and “checked in” with her. And he even gave her weekend access. NOW YOU KNOW men, especially Black fraternity men (it’s a generalization, but you’ll be alright) don’t give weekends to any woman he’s not serious about.


Of course, I was intrigued. Why would the girl who was giving you what you presumably wanted, be treated differently, albeit with less respect, than the girl who was withholding herself from you?


“Because she went (past tense of “go”, see above) too easy.”


How simple…How..matter of fact.


And then I read the quote. Something clicked.


Why doesn’t the “Goer” feel the same sense of entitlement? Doesn’t she deserve a good man?


Don’t all women deserve a good man? And why is it that we are so forgiving of their flaws when they are not of ours? Like he says in the article, we are expected to accept him as he is-- flaws, past and issues—and be his “good girl.” Yet, the “goer” went too fast? So her transgressions are insurmountable, but the fact that this man would sleep with one woman while dating another is supposed to be accepted by the “Good Girl” he ends up with?


*Blank Stare*


And repeat thoughts number one, two and three.


“That’s BS. “


“It’s true though. “


“Still BS.”


What do you all think? Pontificate.

Wednesday, September 15, 2010

So... It Hapenned... Now what?

A while back I read an article entitled "For Colored Girls Who Cry Because Black Men Inter-Marry" (http://madamenoire.com/12484/for-colored-girls-who-cry-because-black-men-inter-marry/). After posting this article, I bantered back and forth with Twitter and "real" friends alike, perched on my soap box, about how Black woman should start considering White men as viable dating options. I preached about how, since they made us an option, they should be ours, and about how men should be men--regardless of color, very "I Have a Dream"- like and proclaimed that love was love and people were people.

And then, Essence's Relationship Editor, Demetria Lucas, hit us with the harsh statistic that 63% of "our" men don't mind seeing Black women in interracial relationships. More ammo for my stance that Black women should be seeking love, not Blackness, in their futures.

And then it happened. Gathering my things after a particularly stellar presentation from yours truly, he saunters up and asks if I'd like to further discuss my ideas over dinner because he'd be interested to hear.