I love girl talk. Especially with my closest friends. Not because I like to gossip. I mean, I do appreciate some good juicy gossip, but I'm really not into spreading people's business. But because I like to hear what people have to say on various things. I like to understand why people do the things they do and make the choices that they make. Because let's be honest, people do some pretty stupid stuff. But I digress.  I was having some girl talk with a few friends of mine and we got to what my friend referred to as "her list". I'm sure plenty of you have heard of said list before. The list of requirements that women keep to judge men against. Things like he has to have a job, he has to be handsome, tall, successful, he has to have all his front teeth. You know, stuff like that. And men have them too. Don't front. We use these prerequisites to decide whether or not we want to settle down with someone for the long haul or whether the encounter is just going to be a booty call kind of thing.  Now I'm all for a list. Totally and completely. It's good to know what you want. And it saves a lot of time. I refuse to entertain anyone that is not motivated to do something better with themselves. But that's where my list ends. And maybe that's why I've dated and been in relationships with every kind of man you can think of. The over worker. The mama's boy. The player. The nerd. The baby daddy of sixty eight kids. I've dealt with them all. It's not that I didn't have standards. Some of these men I just needed something physical with. Some of them I wanted much more. It's just that with my hippie soul, I like to get to know every type of person and, again, understand why people do the things they do. If I would have had a list, I probably would be in an entirely different space in my life right now. But I digress again. To all of you that have a list, kudos!! I just want you to pull it out for a second or think of some of the things that you just cannot live without in a partner. What is on your list? If you've never thought about it, check out this article to help you get started. Some of the things I heard during girl talk were a good job, big feet (personally, I think hand size is a better indication of what he's working with), straight teeth, a college degree, any kind of car, a good relationship with his mother, and he has to love kids. These are all great things to have on your list. Hell, I even had to sit and think about what I would really and truly want out of a partner if I was in the dating game again. So again, look at your list or think about it in your head and let's move along.  Now for all of those who have things like he has to have a six figure income or wash board abs, I strongly suggest you go pick up a copy of this book I just read, It's Okay To Sleep With Him On The First Date: And Every Other Rule Of Dating Debunked. In it, one of the authors, Andrea Syrtash talks about the list and how her list changed dramatically when she started looking into why she wanted the things that she had written down. My favorite line in this section of the book is: 

"Dig deeper than the superficial stuff, since the superficial stuff changes with time......" Syrtash, p. 168

I couldn't have said it better. My friend, bless her simple soul (you know I love you girl), mentioned things like he has to have locs down to his butt, and he has to wake up before her every morning, and he has to like to travel. So for argument sake, let's break down those things. She's really conscious when it comes to Black social and political issues. So she assumes that locs on a man means that he values these things too. After all, locs are supposed to be a rebellious hairstyle symbolizing that you're "down with the cause". But I shut that down real quick. Lil Wayne, Wiz, Two Chainz, Future, they all have locs. Not saying that they are bad men to date. There is someone for everyone out there. But I know they just aren't her type.  I asked if she would date any of those men. I got no answer. She should probably change that to a man that is passionate about the same things that she is. And list those things she's passionate about. She might start attracting a different type of man.

As for waking up before her, why is that important to her? Does she want him to start their day by making breakfast and coffee. Then maybe she wants a man that's considerate. Or maybe she wants him to be up and out the door before her headed to work. Then she wants a hard worker. A provider. Someone who will take care of her financially. And the love of travel? Maybe she wants someone adventurous. Maybe she wants a man that likes to explore. Or someone impulsive who likes to do things spur of the moment. Dig deeper into the things you want from your partner. Apart from the basic things. If you're ready to really start looking to settle down, and I didn't say get married, I said SETTLE DOWN, I suggest that you know what you're looking for. Or else you'll be like me with a bunch of bullshit experiences with a bunch of different people.

And of course I must say, your list will not be exhaustive and all inclusive. Which means, it's not going to have everything you want or everything you don't want in a man. That will come with time. And don't be stupid! Just because a man may not have everything on your list doesn't mean he's not a keeper. I strongly suggest putting a star next to the things that you cannot live without in a partner. Those are the things that can make or break your union. The other stuff would be nice to have. And those are the things that you can compromise and be flexible on. Again, I learned this the hard way. I compromised on the things that I needed in order to love a person. Like really be in love with them. And my relationship fell apart because of it. So don't be like me. Do better.

I just had to sneak away. Parked across the street from your home, nothing but some leggings and a fitted white t-shirt on. Even forgot the shoes. Oh well.

I was waiting for you. Waiting for the silhouette of your car to come into view. Waiting for the fury of you to come into my eyesight. And finally you did.

I was happy to see you were alone. By yourself when you parked your own car. Solitary when walked the pathway to your steps. And I followed you the entire way. Bare feet and all. I pushed you in as you opened the door. You first reaction was to reach out and swing. I caught that arm and forced you against your bare wall. No need for talking. I fiddled with your silver belt buckle. Not caring that there were no greetings shared. Not concerned that my husband was at home asleep. Not giving two damns that your wife was on her way home.

I was nearly set ablaze when your lips covered mine. I couldn’t stop the waterfall from flowing when you pulled my hair and nibbled at my neck. I couldn’t control myself when your hand found all that they were looking for inside those cheap, black leggings. My knees buckled when you gave me what I had come for from inside your overpriced jeans. I missed your passion. I missed the eruption that was set off in the deepest depth of my being when you lifted me up and wrapped my legs around your head. I’d gladly burn in hell forever for this little piece of heaven. For a little slice of you. For this small sample of Love. Of passion. Of this. And I know that despite your weak protests uttered between fiery kisses, you would have gladly gone through hell to be with me. Too bad hell had come in the form of wedding rings and empty promises.

But while we shared this hour of our nirvana, these moments of belonging totally and completely to each other, swimming deep in this ocean of sin, I knew that there must have been a God. Because he made you just for me. And as we dressed again, still not uttering a sound, I knew that The Universe was going to make a way to bring us together again.

Yet as I sat in my car and watched her walk up your stone steps, wedding ring gleaming even in the dark, I also knew that life was never that simple. That when you greeted her at the door, wrapped your arms around her waist, and kissed her like you should only kiss me, I accepted that Heaven was on fire and God was no more. I had to keep these fantasies in my head. Stop hoping for things that would never come.

So with my white tee and my black leggings, I tucked my imagination back into the box from which it came and vowed to leave you alone. No more late night visits. No more fictional adultery. No more butterflies and day dreams. It just had to accept what was there. It’s going to be a long lifetime without you.

I am not flawless. You will not ogle me as you scroll down Instagram while laying on the couch with your hands in your pants. I will not wear spandex shorts and capture the roundness of my behind for you to see. There shall be no topless photos. My chest is a piece of art to be displayed. I will not color my lips with overpriced lipsticks and blow kisses into my smart phone camera. You will not pretend that those kisses are meant for you.

I will not post pictures in a bikini. There shall be no camel toe in too small sweat pants or cheap black leggings. I will not load my face with tons of make up to look like her. Or her. Or her. Straight weaves and long tresses are just not my thing. I’m a tapered afro kind of girl.

I do not have a flat stomach. I will no longer kill myself trying to get one. I do not have a tiny waist. Instead I have a roll and stretch marks where my slim figure used to reside. My breasts do not look perfect all the time. I have bad hair days. I do not shave sometimes. My nails go unpolished and unmanicured a very large majority of my life. My teeth are uneven. I simply do not care. Perfection is not my goal.

But here is that I am. I am fucking sexy. I am soft as you run your hands over bare my skin in bed. I am a wonderful cook. Making you breakfast after a night of putting in that work. I am regal. Above the pettiness of comparisons and put downs. I’m into compliments and self esteem. Believe that. I am modest. Although I know how to be a dirty girl when warranted, my goods are not for all to see. I’ll leave that to your imagination. I am mysterious. Under each layer after silky sweet layer you’ll find a new part of me. A new depth. A new person to get to know. You will never entertain boredom. I am me. What you see is what you get. Thick eyebrows. No relaxer. Little make up, if any. Jeans and a t-shirt. Chucks. Heels on special occasions. Like when you come home from a late night at work and looking for a little you and me time. I like those nights.

I am not perfect. I am transparent. What you see is that you get. I am not the finest wine. I am the sweetest on the tongue. I am not immaculate. But I am elegant. Graceful. Timeless. I am not flawless. I’m better. I’m simple. I’m real. I’m me.

Hey Guys! So I know I usually stick with my opinions on various topics, but I recently posted a DIY Photo Session that I did for my son on Facebook. So many mom's loved it and I received a few questions on what I used and how I set everything up. So I decided to do a blog post for anyone else that might be interested in having their own photo shoot at home.
Everything was super simple and cost me less than $20 total. Set up took about an hour and we took the pictures over a two day span. I used a bare wall in my son's bedroom as my back drop since it was neutral and I could hang stuff up if I wanted. Here's what else I used:

• Plain White Blanket (I steamed it with my steamer to get some of the wrinkles out, but you can use a sheet and an iron instead)
• Old Curtains (Thanks Mom!)
• Christmas Balls (Dollar Tree)
• Red & Gold Tinsel (Dollar Tree)
• Mickey Mouse Wrapping Paper (Dollar Tree)
• My Own Christmas Tree (Walmart)
• Empty Shoe Boxes (I wrapped them with old wrapping paper to look like presents)
• Balloons (Dollar Tree)
• A Christmas Dog (We got this as a gift when my fiance purchased my engagement ring)
• Christmas Lights (Target)
• iPad (to take the pictures)

Now you don't have to use an iPad, any camera is just fine. It's just that my digital camera is broken and I have to wait until Christmas to use my new one. You can check out a few of the images that didn't make the cut below to get an idea of how I did everything. As you can see, we had wardrobe changes and everything!

White Blanket On The Floor. Coffee Table With Tan Curtains On Top. Presents & Dog & Old Glass Christmas Tree That I Filled With Tinsel.

Christmas Lights Taped To Wall With Scotch Tape. White Blanket On Floor. Various Props Scattered Around For My Baby To Play With.

Mickey Mouse Wrapping Paper Against The Wall. White Blanket On The Floor. Props Spread Around.

White Blanket Spread Around Christmas Tree. Tinsel On Blanket. Presents Spread Around For Effect.

This would probably work well for a newborn too. And it'll be easier since a newborn baby doesn't move nearly as much as my two year old. Also for pregnant women, couples, families, etc. You can customize it any way you like. Go ahead and try this out. We did to save some money. We got some great pictures to send out to our family that has been asking us for some updated pictures for a while now. It's fun for you and fun for the kids too. Just be prepared for the clean up! Until next time.......

So in case you didn't know, America is in a mini uprising. I can't call it a full fledged protest/revolution yet because of the lack of leadership. Citizens are protesting. Black America and it's supporters are angry, but cannot clearly and assertively articulate what specifically we want. Michael Brown's parents are using their voices to support a bill that would require all police officers to wear cameras on their uniforms while on duty. New York City, home of the Eric Garner tragedy that was caught on video (I mean seriously, how much more proof do you need?), is proposing the same thing. In case you've been living under a rock, get caught up about Michael Brown here and Eric Garner here. But where is the real action? The real leadership? Marching is great. We have the attention of White America and people all around the world. So what are we going to do with it?
Let me first say, I am proud of all of you that are out there fighting. The protests at the University of Pennsylvania. The marches in New York. Bringing traffic to a hault in DC. The organized protests in Chicago. John Legend and his wife, Chrissy Teigen, have shown their support by paying for food trucks to feed the protesters (allegedly). The citizens of Ferguson have voiced their concerns and frustration different ways. Some by peacefully protesting. Some by looting and burning down buildings. I have been paying attention. Reading. Watching videos. Absorbing everything since CNN announced that the decision had been made on whether or not to indict Mike Brown's killer. I waited to write this post because I wanted to see how many of you would still care. How many were still invested. How many of you are really into this and not just trying to keep up with what's going on on social media. 
Of course, the family of Mike Brown has asked us to protest peacefully. And for the most part, that is what is going on. But the night that Officer Darren Wilson was not charged with the crime of killing Michael Brown, or any charges at all, and was allowed to walk free and clear, the city of Ferguson Missouri was a royal mess. Now let me make this clear, I'm all for looting and burning shit down. Not because I believe in destroying property and causing chaos. Those that know me can attest to the fact that I need everything to be organized. But because I desperately hate big business and people who set up shop in Black Neighborhoods and over charge us for goods that are necessary for us to live. Milk. Water. Pampers. Food. Gas. The basics.
And two, White America is quick to judge us for burning down business and running out of stores with TV's and liquor bottles, calling us savage and criminals. But was it not them who burned down Black Churches? Black Schools? Did they not successfully burn down the Black Wall Street? Did they not lynch and burn Black men, women, and children in a riot like fashion? Are they not stealing from Blacks every day by nickel and diming us for things like internet, cable, over priced smart phones, and other materialisitc goods? Do they not profit from our ignorance and need for more? So please do not tell a people who have fought to get what they have and where they are how they should react to hundreds of years of struggle and fighting. It's a set back. People are mad. Let them grieve.*
In case you haven't picked up on this yet, yes, I am emotionally attached. Not because I have a son. Not because I am engaged to a man that looks like a thug 98% of the time he walks out the door (but he's as sweet as candy). Not because I'm some radical, revolutionary hippie that likes to rant (ahem). But because I know what this moment in history means for our future. We hashtag #blacklivesmatter, but do you really understand what that means? Let me explain it to you. The purpose of the protests, the riots, the global movement, is to make it clear that it is not okay to kill Black People, whether they be men, women, children, teenagers, WHOEVER, and get away with it. It is not okay to gun us down in the street and get away with it. We will not taking that sitting down. Our lives matter. We love our children, our spouses, our nieces, nephews, aunts, cousins, etc. and we will not sit by while they are killed by anyone, not just Law Enforcement. Think about that next time you're trying to be cool with the hash tags. Is that what you stand for?
Now, the true weight of the situation didn't hit me until I saw that trending topic on Twitter. #crimingwhilewhite That mess pissed me off to no end! White people blatantly offering up altercations with the cops that they got away with. And will continue to get away with. Some things Blacks would be jailed for. But that was the point. To start the conversation. To make it clear that there is a racial problem in America and Blacks got the short end of the stick. If you have a Twitter account, I strongly suggest you go on there and read some of the things that people wrote. It's a doozy.
So let me wrap this up here. I think my best friend summed it up so beautifully. Check out what she said:

*Of course I feel for those whose business were burned down that are not part of Corporate America and have worked from the ground up. But like so many innocent people who lose homes, lose businesses, even get caught in the cross fire and lose their lives, they are the exception, not the rule. Those are the people who should be helped. 

Tell me if this sounds familiar. You (or a friend) are dating a guy, and you place no rules or regulations on him. He's a friend with benefits or just a cool guy you hang out with (and happen to have feelings for) and he views you the same way, minus the romantic feelings. You guys go to the movies, but it's not a date. You invite him over for game night, drink, laugh, have a good time, maybe even fornicate a little bit, but there is still no relationship. He sometimes says you're like his "homegirl" or his "little sister". He likes you because you're low maintenance, like to watch football, don't demand to talk about feelings or define your relationship. He doesn't contact you for days at a time but you're always there when he needs you to be. Congratulations. You (or your friend) are officially the chill girl.
Now my issue is not with girls that are genuinely fine with playing this role. Sometimes we have guy friends that are just that, friends. We don't sleep with them. We don't secretly want to be with them. They're just cool. What I do have a problem with is the fakers. The girls that pretend they like sports just to please their crush. The girls that pretend that they don't care about him coming over and getting some and then leaving two hours later. The girls that say they're not like other girls because they don't need to be in a relationship or don't need him to call you his girlfriend. You pretend that the confusing little dance that you and him are doing is just fine although you don't know where you stand or what the future holds. Stop that.
The truth is, this is just another way that we as women try to please men that really aren't worth much of anything. We want to be with them. We want to be in relationships. We want him all to ourselves. But we suppress these feelings and pretend that we're emotionless little robots just so that he'll stay around. But what does that get you? Disappointment. Confusion. Anger. Hurt. You can keep all that too. I don't need any. Thank you. And you have no one to blame but yourself. You made him think you were something that you're not. And don't think he's going to pick up on the signs that you're unhappy or pretending. Men are simple creatures. What you tell them is what they believe. And it gets no deeper than that. Trust me.
Now let's flip this coin here. Say that you actually start talking to a guy and you, GASP!, be yourself?!?! What if when you feel that he's disrespected you or made you feel some type of way, you actually say something? What if after you guys have hung out for a while, you tell him you want something more serious? You actually call him out when he doesn't honor the commitment that you guys made to each other? You let him know that you like to wear heels through the mall? What if you want him to pay for a date and not go dutch? How different would your interactions with this man be? How much happier would you feel when you know what the hell is going on and you don't have to guess and tip toe around his feelings and your own?
Let me warn you. Most guys that are happy to have you as the "chill girl" are not going to like when you start making demands. They're going to high tail it out of there and say that you're too clingy and needy. You'll be characterized as the girl who was trying to tie him down and make him put a ring on it. Be prepared. The men that are not ready for a commitment are going to think you are possessed and avoid you like the plague. And that's fine. At least you know now. Instead of you pretending to be someone you're not to please him and wasting everyone's time anyway. You're not going to die if he stops contacting you.* You might actually start to live a little. You actually have a chance to learn who you are outside of him and use that to attract a man that is ready to take things where you want to take them. Oh happy day!! 
Let me validate you for a second. It's okay to be a girl. It's okay to wear heels and make up for a guy and not be afraid that he's going to think you're high maintenance. It's okay to want to cuddle on the couch while watching a movie. If he's into you, he's going to want to cuddle too. Or not. Maybe he's not a cuddler. But he'll want to be close. It's okay for you to shriek when you see a spider. Being feminine and fitting into the box when it comes to certain things "girly" is okay. It doesn't make you weak or vulnerable. You can be the girliest girl in the world and still kick some ass. You don't have to negate your femininity in order to please a man. Tell him that this is what the package comes with. He can take it or leave it. That simple.
Okay, let's close this puppy out. If you're really a chill girl, go ahead and chill out. But don't pretend to be something you're not. Don't fake the funk when he forgets your birthday or orders food and doesn't get you anything. Your feelings are allowed. Don't believe me? Read it again here. Again, men are simple creatures. How is he supposed to know what you want if you don't tell him, or even worse, if you pretend to be fine with whatever he does. Girl bye. At some point, when you're done playing around and sowing your wild oats, you're going to want to be in a relationship on your own terms. And you should have that right. Just make sure you're you, you don't play those childish games, you make it clear what you want as you go along, and you remain true to you. The only person that can truly keep you in the chill girl zone is you.
*Although you may not die, you may feel like your heart is being ripped out of your chest. You will feel like you did everything in the world for this man and he doesn't appreciate you. You will feel like you want to punch him in the chest. You will cry. You may eat excessive amount of chocolate. It's okay. Let it out. And then pick up the pieces and move on. His loss.

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.