I was not searching for you when I put on my black maxi, fitted around my waist, gold collar around the neckline. I simply adored how it glittered in the sunlight. I loved how the detailing glowed perfectly against my melanin kissed skin.

I was not thinking about you when I put on my favorite diamond ear rings and pulled my hair into an immaculate school teacher bun. I just thought a lady only lets her husband see her with her hair down. It should be something reserved exclusively for him. The rest of humanity is only worthy of hair pulled up, tucked away, and pinned to perfection. Call me old fashioned.

I couldn’t have cared less about you when I made up my mind to wear my favorite pair of black Steve Madden wedges, gold buckles shining on the sides. I let my femininity devour me as I slipped my perfectly pedicured feet into that beautifully crafted shoe. I was just taking a moment to appreciate how amazing it felt to truly be all dolled up.

I had others on my mind when I set out to run my errands, clearly over dressed and underestimated. The silly little play things that engaged in the cat calling and hand grabbing as I walked past were simply not aware that I could rip their throats out without ever laying a hand on their pretty little heads. I was just sophisticated like that. I didn’t care about your existence because I was too wrapped up in being admired. Being coveted. Being wanted.

I, in my ignorance and self-centered unawareness, did not notice that my forever had been watching me, studying my arrogant gait. As I pretended to be consumed with the nothingness around me, I was oblivious to the fact that you were following me with the most sacred places of your heart. And the most wicked places of your imagination. I did not even deem you worthy enough for my glance. Your dirt stained hands, your oil filled shirt. Your thick, sweaty brown. My mysticism was too great for you. You were not even worthy of my gaze.

It’s funny how sometimes to find exactly what we’re looking for, we simply have to take our eyes off the ground and look up. And that I did. And there you were. And suddenly, someone that I had not even thought to acknowledge, a person that was invisible for all the moments that we had been standing in that place together, a person that longed for me even though I did not care who they were in this lifetime or who they will be in the next, this person had suddenly become the most important person in my entire life.

And he’s still here. Adoring me. Kissing me. Making me laugh. Filling me with the best parts of him and taking away the worst parts of me. He’s still here loving my pretty dresses and heels too high for me to walk it. My made up face and my perfectly manicured nails. He’s still here adulating me. Especially when I’m all dolled up. What a wonderful man. 

I remember Vicky. The way her oversized chrome feet glimmered and shone when you would roll past me on those stifling July days on New Jersey streets. You loved that car as much as I thought that I loved you. You kept her clean, giving her a bath one a week. Twice when it rained. She was always neat. Proper. I remember riding around past Burger King and Walgreens, blasting Meek Mills. He was a newby then. A break out artist. Something fresh. Like what was happening between us. The music was so loud I couldn’t hear myself think. So loud I couldn’t feel my phone vibrate on my brown legs. But I heard him. Feeling like the words to the songs you chose off that album had been picked for me. They weren’t. They were for everybody. For every girl. For every pretty face you had ever seen. They were never for me.

I remember Cammie. Silver and bright. She still had the new car smell. I shared so many firsts with you and that car. First kiss. First love. First car. I was hurt when I learned that I wasn’t going to be the first woman to enjoy her heated seats. But I’ll take second place to your sisters. But she was there through everything. She drove those many miles from Philly to DC. She took you away when you learned of my infidelities. She dried your tears and drowned out your cries with the sound of Rick Ross after our heated fights. Live Fast. Die Young. She carried away our boxes of memories when you told me it was over. You’ve had enough. Pictures. Teddy bears. Clothes you left behind. She carried you away from me. I miss Cammie. I don’t even think she remembers me. I’ll never forget her.

I remember the thunder of your Black Honda Coupe. She never had a name. Your racing car. Your bad boy car. Your drug dealing car. I loved the roar of the engine. I love the way you switched gears. I loved the speed. How fast you and Her swept me off my feet. I remember hearing you coming from around the corner. Anxious. I remember the butterflies. You and Her would always bring me something special. Wendys Frosty’s. Specially made burgers. McDonalds Fries. Well placed kisses. I loved when you and Her would come home to me. She was ferocious, but oh so sweet. Just like you.

I remember when she started to go. Over heating on dark highways. Windows that wouldn’t roll down. Balding tires. Peeling tint. Leaking coolant and oil. We had to let our Honda go. We’ve upgraded since then. Gotten something new now. But Ms. Honda is still in our hearts. I still hear you revving that powerful engine in the recesses of my mind.

So many cars. A Burgundy Buick. A Black Caddy. A White Pontiac. A Black Civic Coupe. A Green Acura with the passenger side door banged in. A Lexus Jeep. Many men. Many cars. All with their own stories to tell. Something so simple. Giving me a ride. Taking me to dinner. To a movie. Sneaking me into your mother’s basement. All the late night “chill” sessions. So many destinations.

I only have one ride now. His gray Acura. Tint black as midnight. Always parked outside our home. As if waiting for me. Ms. Ebony. She’s my ride for now. And I’ll be riding that girl until the wheels fall off. Believe that.

"Here is a man who loves me, and I love him, but he doesn't want to marry me. Here I am, a person that doesn't care about marriage, but I'm heartbroken that he doesn't want me as his wife............I should have just left him a long time ago when I saw the signs that he would never marry me." - The Girl Who Played With Men (Mielech)

Just close your eyes. There is nothing to see here. Only feel. Your jagged nails against my bare scalp as I bury my head between your velvet thighs. You’re so soft against my callused hands. So smooth against my roughness. Your hips rise and fall as my tongue flickers against the tiny piece of skin that holds the key to every single ounce of pleasure in your body.

You pull my hair.

You grab my shoulders.

You let me know that you’re feeling it. All with your eyes closed.

And when I finish, and your wetness threatens to drown me, I’ll rise and kiss your pink lips, covered with Sephora lip stain. You’ll pull me into you and I’ll let you. Pull me in baby. Tell me your dirtiest fantasies. Your most secret desires.

As you slip your tongue into my mouth, I’ll run my hands over your erect nipples, down your stomach, and back into your ocean. I’ll find my way over the waves and into the deep. Two fingers in and out of the rising tide. You moan your satisfaction to me. Telling me you’re feeling it. All with your eyes closed.

It’s a rhythm. Up and down. Your kisses. My sighs. Your moans. My grunts. Your hips. My hands. It’s me and you gorgeous. Me doing my very best to pleasure you. And by the way your body clenches and releases me every time I enter and exit your sacred places, I know I am doing one hell of a job.

You never told me with your soft lips that you loved it, but the way you gripped the sheets told me everything I needed to know. So many describe themselves as flawless, but you, here underneath me, with your back arched and your mouth open, you were the epitome of the word. Your rapid breathing and the way you parted your legs, allowing me to really explore your wetlands, let me know that you were feeling it.

So keep your eyes closed. Feel my lips all over your bare skin. Feel the affection in my hands. Feel the passion in my heart. Envision heaven in the darkness of your imagination. There was nothing to see in the blackness of our bedroom. So lover, keep those beautiful eyes closed.

I have arrived. On the flight that you assigned me. To your side of reality. I have finally crossed over to the Promised Land. To the land of green overflow, fidelity, and security. It is where you have wanted me to be. You have force fed me all of the fairy tales and candy dreams and I am ready to reach the clouds with you. But I just have one question.

Where, My Love, are you?

You promised me white fences and the pitter patter of miniature feet. You swore to me that the wealth would spill over in abundance and my heart would never again know worry. I admit that I have been hesitant all of this time. Dissecting your words. Looking for holes and inconsistencies. There were many.

But you know what? I still traveled through the messy untruths and sticky infidelities to your side of the mountain. The bright side. The side where you told me to meet you. I have gotten to the peaceful part. The most joyous corner. Serenity. I am here. But where are you?

It’s silent here. Only the faint ringing in my ears remains. I’m listening intently for your voice. I’m looking around watching the breeze blow through the light green grass. The hope is keeping me going. The love makes me smile. Even though the loneliness wraps itself around my neck, threatening to choke me.

I’ve grown impatient. I’m ready to go now. But every time I go to leave, every time my feet begin to walk away towards that dreadful flight back to actuality, you appear and feed my soul again. You tell me you’re going to change. It’s a promise. You’re trying. Give you another chance. It will be different this time. It calms me. So I stay. And wait longer. And longer. Weeks. Months. Three long years. Waiting. Surviving off of the wishes and dreams that seem to drift further and further away from me.

Your words are repetitive. The reasons and excuses you give me no longer ease the hunger building in the most sacred parts of me. I have opened the door for you finally. But you did not walk in.

You’ve run out of chances with me. The arrival is now a departure. I’m leaving now. Evacuation time. Feed your love songs and tears to someone else.

I’ve already begun my journey back home. To the place I have known forever and missed so dearly. I’m headed back to me. And away from you.

I’ll remember you. Treat the next one better. Make sure when you send her to the land of picket fences and overflow, you meet her there. Don’t keep her waiting. Do better. We deserve it.

That’s my flight. It’s time for me to go. I’ll watch our world grow smaller as I ascend into the sky. Away from everything I ever hoped for. I’ll do better next time. Goodbye.

Don’t make it too easy for me baby. I like a challenge. I enjoy working up a sweat. I have no problem working for my rewards.

Don’t make it too easy for me to melt when you touch me. I practically fall into your arms. No assistance needed. No resistance given.

 Don’t slip my shirt off my shoulder with your middle finger and nibble on my bottom lip.

Your kisses make me stupid. It’s not fair that you use them against me. Making my heart pound faster now. 

Making my desire stronger now.

You’re making this shit too easy.

You knock down my defenses when you lift me up and push my back against our auburn wall. Gripping my behind. Cracking me wide open. Warming up all the engines.

Don’t put your lips here. 

Don’t put your tongue there.

Don’t.

Don’t do that.

You’re making it too easy to say yes.

My chest rises and falls in sync with your own.

How I love you. How you make me drown in you doing the things you do.

You make it too easy with your soft skin. Black ink in all the right places.

No fight from me because of your bedroom eyes and your working hands.

And tonight you’re working on me.

On this wall. On that chair.

On my table. In our bed. In your shower.

Your earned your payment today Papa. You make it too damn easy to be in love with you.

Every day.

No challenges over here. No tests. None of the complications.

You’re just so damn easy.

To Love.

First off, let me start by saying that this an adult post. 18+ Please. If you are not 18+, please get your little booty out of here. Go do something else. Thank you.

I got this request from one of my coworkers because she swears up and down that a guy's penis size matters. Her argument is that the size of a man's junk determines the amount of pleasure he can give you. She always says that she doesn't want a "pinky toe". Which is understandable. I mean, most women say the same thing. They want a man that is packing down below. Beyonce says she only wants a man that "carries big things if you know what I mean" in the Destiny's Child song, Soldier. And mostly all women are guilty of staring at a man's hands, feet, or crotch area to determine whether or not he's got it going on down there. Guilty.

There are plenty of articles, videos, blog posts, etc. online about this topic. I started digging through trying to see the consensus out there and get a feel for what people really think about the subject. According to this video, most girls think, HELLLLL YESSS!!!!! Most women think they want a six inch pecker and above. Sorry to disappoint ladies, but the average penis size is 5.6 inches. (I have no idea how I know that. Random piece of knowledge I carry around in my head) So most of the women in the world are already looking for a man that's above average. As with most things, we are looking for the fantasy and ignoring what's really there.

But let's keep is real. Do you even know what six inches looks like? Like for real? Okay. Here's a test. If you have a ruler at home, go ahead and measure out six inches. Don't worry. I'll wait. Google it or something. Hold your hands six inches apart and really LOOK AT IT. Do you really want six inches of something creeping up inside of you? Maybe you do. Maybe that's your thing. And in that case, rock on girl! But most of us really don't even know what six inches looks and feels like. We've never taken a moment and thought about what six inches of length means, not even taking into consideration the width and thickness of the man's privates. Makes you reflect doesn't it?

Now let's also keep in my that Black Men have a slightly larger average penis size than that of their Caucasian counterparts. So let's just add an inch or so on there for safety. Let's just say for argument the average Black Penis is 6.6 inches. So wait. If you can't handle that six inch piece of work that you were just imagining, how would you make out with almost seven inches? Is that even feasible to you? And think about the width and thickness of the Black Man's penis when he is ready to saddle up and ride. Some of you are hot just thinking about it. Go get some water. I'll wait. But to me, it's scary. Legit scary. I want no parts of that. Thank you.

Okay, think about this also. You have a vagina, yes? Have you ever considered the depth of the average vagina? No? Okay. The depth of the average vagina for a woman that has never given birth is 4.25-4.75 inches when aroused. There is a slight, almost insignificant, increase in the size of the vaginal opening when a woman bears a child. Now this information is kinda old, from about 1960, but I don't think vaginas have changed much since then. So, for those of us women who say they want a seven or eight inch penis, where is all that penis going? I understand that for some women that may be pleasurable. Again, do your thing girl. No judgment here. But for those of us who are just repeating what we hear, really think about what you are saying. Do you really want a man with a seven inch lover boy? Or would you prefer something smaller that will make you feel a lot better?

Honestly, I don't care about penis size. Most guys with huge equipment have no idea what to do with it. They think that just because their lower member is large and in charge, it automatically makes them great in bed. And you know what, that's not their fault. Look back at everything we just talked about. We, as women, make them think that. We're so obsessed with a man's size that an above average man thinks that he's already won the race. No brother. You are sadly mistaken. There are plenty of men out there that are confident with what they are carrying around because they know how to use what they've been given. Confidence is sexy. And knowing how to work your body and find your way around a woman's body is even sexier. If you don't know, you better ask somebody.

Contrary to popular belief, pleasing a woman takes skill. If you have all the gizmos and gadgets in the world, they mean nothing if you don't know how to use them. You must know what turns your woman on, how to touch her, what buttons to press and which to leave alone. And this doesn't take a big stick. It all starts in our minds. If we are attracted to a man, it doesn't matter what his penis size is. And Ladies if you think if you don't agree, you're shallow.

Now hold on before you get an attitude and flip your weave because I just called you shallow. I say this because it's possible to have a man that isn't the biggest or the baddest wolf, but he will definitely blow the house down. It's about the motion in the ocean. Knowing how to use what you have to gain the maximum amount of smiles and satisfaction for you both. Size shouldn't be a major factor when deciding whether to give your body to a man. I don't even think it should be a major factor when making any decision regarding a man. To me, size doesn't matter. It's all about how you use what you have.

This one I'm throwing out to you guys. Comment below or tell me what you think in an e-mail, sankofah8@gmail.com. I'm curious to see how many of you think that size actually does matter, and how many of you think otherwise. Speak with you all soon!! =)

Okay, here we go with the societal rules and expectations again. Why is this even still a topic of discussion? Why in a generation where Rihanna can bare it all, literally, are we still judging people for having sex on the first date? Sex on the first date is just that: sex. If you decide that you want to sleep with someone on the first date, third date, seventh date, a year later, who really cares?

To all of you that have requested this post, and there were A LOT, here it is. These are my tips to help you find your match. Feel free to comment below if you have any more tips or suggestions that you would like to add.

Now let's also keep in mind that everyone's perfect match is not the same. Therefore, we are not all looking for the same thing. And these tips are not for those who are looking to find a man to, shall we say, keep her company at night (that can be another post). These are for those who are legitimately ready to settle down and  find someone that they can share memorable experiences with.

1. Be Who You Want To Attract

• I never understand this. A lot of us want a faithful guy who can take care of the house, bring in the money, he's great with kids, and he loves puppies. But what do we have to offer? You cannot expect to find a man, let alone one that will take you seriously enough to settle down with you, if you have nothing going for yourself. Do you have a job? How about a savings? If you can't cook, will you at least be able to wash the dishes after he makes a meal? Are you honest with him? Think about all of these things. You really cannot expect to find Mr. Right if your Ms. Wrong. And be HONEST with yourself. Don't evaluate yourself on what you plan on doing. Evaluate yourself on what you're actually doing now. And think about it this way: if your child or your best friend brought someone just like you home, would you think they are acceptable? 

2. Figure Out What You're Looking For

• This is the biggest problem I see when it comes to dating. We get filled up with what we SHOULD be looking for and not what we ACTUALLY want. If you were to describe your ideal mate, what would they be like? And please do not say tall, dark, and handsome. That's some crap and you know it. Most African American women want those yellow dudes that look like they haven't seen the sun in about twenty years. Ya'll can keep that mess. But anyway, let's get back to business. Think about what you want in life, especially further down the line. Do you want a family? Do you want to travel? Are you going to eventually be looking to bring other people into the relationship in the form of swinging or something like that? Really think about it. Because it makes no sense wasting time looking for a man that really isn't genuinely going to make you happy. You'll be looking for someone elses Mr. Right and not your own. Once you figure out what you want out of a guy, you're already halfway there.

3. Listen To The Signs

• We've all been there. We're dating someone and our gut is telling us to get away! Run!! No good!! Red flag!! But we stay and we deal with the mess hoping that eventually he'll come around. But you know what, most of the time he doesn't. On the final episode of Catfish Season 3, Selita Ebanks said that for the first three months of a relationship, we get the representative of the actual person that we think we are dating. That is so true!! In the beginning of a courtship, we get the best the person has to offer, or what is supposed to be. So if they start out lying, cheating, manipulating, forgetting to mention they have a significant other/baby at home etc., what in the holy hell do you expect to happen in the future?? They started out with the bullshit. How do you think it's going to end up? Listen to the signs. Cut your loses and move the hell on. The end.

I will never understand it. We, as women, always complain that we date assholes. They're not worth anything. He cheats. He lies. He has too many kids. He never calls me back. He doesn't spend enough time with me. Yet, when we meet a guy that is genuinely a NICE GUY we find EVERYTHING in the world wrong with him. Huh?

This video hit it right on the head. "I was really into him, but he was just too nice." Say what?? We just love the bad guys. Most of the time we are attracted to the guys that treat us the worst and wonder why we can't find someone that can truly make us happy. Your prince charming may be staring you right in the face. But you're too busy looking past him at the douche bag to really notice. Stop. Now.

First, as always, let me define what I mean by a nice guy. He's sweet. He genuinely cares about you and your feelings, even if he doesn't understand them. He goes out of his way to make sure that you are happy and your needs are met. He's considerate. None of that not hearing from him for three or four days at a time. He doesn't have another girlfriend or special "friends" on the side besides you. He's interested in you. He likes you. He wants to pursue something serious with you on the same terms and conditions that you do. This is the nice guy.

Most times, this guy gets banished to the friend zone. He's the one that we call when the asshole messes up and we need a shoulder to cry on. But really, in his head, he's like, "I would never do that to you." He's patient and listens to all of the messed up BS that Mr. Asshole has put you through. And he knows that you're going to go right back. But you don't have to worry. He won't let you know that he's judging you, unless you ask of course. Then he'll let you have it all. Honestly. He'll tell you about yourself.

Now, for those of us that do not banish him to the friend zone and actually see the dating potential in this guy, we often are the mean ones in the relationship. We push his buttons, secretly trying to pull the bad guy out of him. I mean, he can't REALLY be this nice. We think he's just putting on a front to get in your pants. He doesn't care about my interests. It's just a matter of time before he does the same things that all the other guys do.

But really, we're setting ourselves up for failure. When you go looking for something, you usually find it. The one time he doesn't answer his phone because he's at work or at brunch with his grandmother, we think he's cheating or not interested anymore. Those are our own insecurities that need to be addressed and removed from the relationship in order for it to be successful. But that is for another post. What we need to do is recognize that we have a nice guy, he's amazing, he's wonderful, he's ours and LEAVE ROOM FOR ERROR!!!

Now this is something that I struggled with in my relationship for a long time. I assumed that my nice guy had to be a PERFECT guy. But no one is perfect. He's going to mess up. He's going to forget to grab you a straw for your drink when he surprises you with lunch sometimes. He's going to fall asleep on you while watching a movie because he's tired sometimes. He's going to snore while you're trying to sleep (OMG!! This was a serious issue for us). But you know what. If you wake up in the morning and don't have to worry your head about him stepping out on you, if you know that he's going to be there whenever you need him, if you know he's always going to be on time to pick you up all the time, then all the other stuff can be overlooked. It's annoying. Yes. But it's not worth loosing this guy over.

So here are just a few tips I have for those of us who have been fortunate enough to date the nice guy or have someone in our lives that genuinely fits the description:

1. Don't mess it up by looking for his flaws. His imperfections will reveal themselves over time. If they are something you can't deal with, leave. If they are minor, learn to love them.

2. Never compare him to your exes. He's his own man. He will not treat you like them. And if you start seeing the signs that he's just pretending to be a nice guy (you'll know when his actions stop matching his words), get the hell out of there.

3. Learn to accept that fact that you deserve him. You've dated enough assholes. They've put you through enough. Now enjoy that fact that you have man that will make your heart skip a beat.

4. Love him back. Don't be the girl that gets the nice guy and she's a total bitch. Don't drive him away by doing the exact same things that the crappy guys did to you. He deserves to be with someone that will treat him just as well as he treats them.

5. Make sure he's really a nice guys and doesn't just have nice qualities. He can be a really nice guy without a job, he never finishes what he starts, he's attached to mommy at the hip, etc. Make sure your nice guy is a nice guy that you really want to be with before you waste his and your time.

And that's it. We, as women, have to start lifting our standards and holding our men accountable. We need to stop chasing the bad boys and the rebels and start seriously considering dating the sweet guys that we would never give chance. I swear to you, it will change your entire outlook on relationships.

I've never dated an asshole. I've dated guys that were vain, a little selfish, inexperienced, and just plain weird. But you know what, they've all been so good to me. I can say nothing bad about relationships. I was the one that ended up messing up and ending the relationship. I had my own issues that needed to be resolved. The nice guys are out there. They're ready, and they're looking for you. Be ready. Be open. And give them a chance. You'll never be able to date an asshole again.Your expectations will be drastically different. I promise.