My first love...

I come from a two parent household. Two siblings. An older sister and brother. I am the youngest. My mother is a strong, independent, college-educated woman. She worked as a social worker for many years. Mommy comes from a single parent household with a lot of siblings. My father is a strong, dominant man. He believed the man was the head of his household and that's how he ran his house. My father comes from a two parent household as well, although, my grandmother died when he was 11. In my father's family, the boys took care of the girls. Each boy was assigned a sister to look after and that philosophy holds true today. My father is military. He went to the Army at the age of 18 and retired when he was in his 40s. His military career was exemplary and he left the service with many medals and awards. The running joke in our family is my father is the original Forest Gump. He saved his entire battalion while taking bullets...(not in the but-tocks though lol). My father raised me to be independent and not to depend on a man but divorced my mother for the very same reason. She wasn't dependent enough. I heard my parents argue one time during their entire marriage of 23 years. My father is a beautiful man. He is tall.6'3. Chocolate. Slim.  I wish I could say, I always felt this way about him but I didn't. My father was a strict disciplinarian. We would be put on punishment for the slightest thing. Not listening. Not coming in on time. Dishes not being washed. I remember when I got in trouble becuz I left the house early one week day and hung out w/my then boyfriend all day and turned his neckbones off..  How was I supposed to know they were to cook all day and he was depending on that meal when he got off work? Silly me. I had to stay in the house for two weeks after that... I was HOT! Shoo, it was summer too!

As I've gotten older, I began to realize that certain things my father made me do, I now do. I, too, like some semblence of order. His discipline raised me to be the woman I am today.. Independent, fiesty and a bit standoffish. His example shows me what I want in a man. His example showed me what a man is and does and what he should be. His example leaves me lonely.....

There are so many men out there who didn't have a strong man in their life and they don't know how to treat a woman. Either they don't know or don't care enough to know. My man has to be strong. He has to have a strong back and he has to be able to provide. He has to love me unconditionally and he has to be supportive. He has to be willing to deal w/my spoiledness and love mine as she was his... That's my father... My father would give us all Valentine's day candy and now I expect that if I'm dating someone. If I don't get it, it's a wrap. To me, it's the small things. My father has a sense of humor, now. We talk on the phone and crack up! When I was younger, not so much. My father is my first love and I'm looking for someone who has old school values in this new school world... someone who will love me unconditionally, support my goals and my dreams, listen to my fears, spoil me when I want it and stand up to me when I need it... hahaha that sounds like a dating ad... But that's what I need, deserve and expect.

Merry Christmas!!!!!

The Past...

He stands 6'3. Chocolate complexion. Slim guy, who has gained weight thru the years but it looks good on him. He was always dressed sharp. Always perfectly accessorized. Always had the latest gear, the latest shoes, the latest everything..and always, took my breath away..until recently. We broke up in the late 90s and I thought my world would end. Actually, it did come crumbling down in a sense. I neglected my child, my friends and me during those "dark days". That's what I like to call that time in my life.. The "dark days".. cue music: dun dun dunnnn... I left him in a haze of exhaust fumes with pieces of my heart scattered on I295S... I left him when I finally got tired of the subterfuge of lies, games, and drama. Everyone around me was tired of the drama. My mother, my friends, me... but I still couldn't shake him. Even after the heartbreak.... even after the lies...even after the deception. I still felt connected to him, to Jersey, to everything...

I left Jersey in 2000 and started to settle into my new life in Georgia. But no one tells you when you're running from something it will follow you. No one prepares you for the road ahead.. There is no instructional manual. No guidelines. No rules. No step by step tutorial.. Just you and your wits. (If you got any) You have to forge ahead and deal with what comes... and that's what I did...or at least tried to do. I was still in constant contact with my past. Carefully, teetering a fine line to keep my past and present separate. Careful with the lies I told myself and the lies I told others. Careful not to mix the two or have them collide violently. Careful to manipulate the system just enough so I got what I needed and fuck anybody who got in my way... I was very careful... or so I thought.

My past came to visit me when I settled into my new place. The Queendom. My past wanted to see how I was living and if he could move down here. He came in on a Friday and we had a ball, that night. We went to a neighborhood spot with a few of my friends and had a good time. Dancing and drinking. Getting it in! I was glad he came. Maybe he will consider moving down. After we left my friends, we came back to my place and I decided to take a shower. Why did I do that? I came back to him sitting up in my bed and looking really crazy. I didn't think anything of it becuz I had been drinking. I thought he was just drunk. Unbeknownst to me, this dude had gone thru my things and found my journal. He read it and discovered I was seeing someone, who had a girlfriend, and I really liked him. He couldn't believe I could do such a thing. He got up in my face. I got up in his. He started yelling. I yelled back. He called me every name but my own. I returned the favor. He ran into my kitchen. I followed close behind. He's opening drawers and then I snap out of it. What is he looking for, I wondered. He grabs a knife and chases me back into my room..deep into my closet, pins me to the wall and he's holding the knife to my neck and he is screaming. I mean, this dude is belligerent. Crazy. Eyes wide open. Wild like a feral dog. I finally talk him down..well, God talked him down becuz I was scared shitless. We walk back into my room and he body slams me on the floor but my boot is there and I feel a crack and I know it's my ribs. I can't breathe. I can't cry. I'm in pain. Now what, genius? Who's idea was this again? Mine. Who's stupid now? Me. You know this cat is crazy. You know he has a jealous heart. Why would you leave your journal out? Damn that! Why would you invite him here? Becuz I thought he changed. I thought over time, he had changed.

Funny thing about time. Time makes you forget everything. Time makes you gloss over the bad parts of your life and focus on the good. Time makes you want to reconcile. Time makes you want to reconnect with what you lost and make everything better. Time is a lie. Had I been in my right frame of mind. I would have said, no, don't come when I felt that tinge in my gut as it came closer for him to come. Had I thought about it long and hard and LISTENED to my inner voice, I would have kept it moving...but noooo, here I am, laying on the floor with cracked ribs and a crazy man looming over me. Needless to say, I didn't get any sleep, that night or the next. First I was in pain and second, I didn't trust him NOT to kill me in my sleep. He picked me up and apologized. He tried to hold me but I refused and plus I was in pain. The next day, we went to my best friend's house and I told her what happened when he went to the bathroom and she just stared at me. I shook my head and said, I know. He's acting like nothing ever happened. Acting so loving, that I actually throw up in the bathroom. Why didn't I kick him out you ask? Good question. I still don't have an answer as I think back on it now. I know I couldn't wait for Sunday morning when it was time for him to leave. On the way to the airport, I'm quiet. He wants to know "What's wrong, Lish?" Really? You have to ask. We "discuss" the fallout and where we,... excuse me, where I went wrong and I told him, you're right. I'm wrong. As we pull up to the airport, I tell him, don't worry about it.. He won't ever be welcomed back to my door again and I pull off leaving him standing on the curb...

As I drive away, my phone rings.. it's him... What could he possibly have to say? He can't make it better. He can't make my ribs stop hurting. He didn't even believe me when I told him I was in pain and holding my side... So why is he calling? To say what? Part of me is saying, don't answer and the other part of me...is picking up the phone, hitting accept and saying...Hello?

Shamelessly Me....

Shamelessly me.. unabashed, unashamed, unafraid of being me... I am a tall, voluptuous black woman who is striving to become better.. Striving to do better. Striving to live better and striving to love better... love me, that is. Loving everyone else is easy. I can love anyone... I can pick them up. Be their cheerleader. Tell them a better way to do things. Believe that they will accomplish all they set out to and cheer, cry, laugh, or whatever they need along the way. I can listen to them talk until they get it out, crack a joke, make them feel better and keep it moving. In their eyes, I am strong. I am resilient. I am impenetrable. I am comfortable in my own skin. I am confident. I am aloof. I am standoffish. I am moody and I am NOT a cheerleader. Sometimes, I don't want to lend an ear, a shoulder to cry on or my point of view. Sometimes I simply want to be vulnerable. Sometimes, I want to be able to call someone and cry unabashedly. Just yell and scream at the heavens, WHY MEEEE?! (But then I would have to scream Why Me when times are good too.) I simply want to be me.  I don't want to be a cheerleader. I just want to be... at times. I know I give the vibe that I don't need anyone to lift me up. I know I carry myself with such confidence that it would seem I don't "need" anything...that is such a lie. My famous line is, I'm going to take a nap. It will make me feel better. That's my way of hiding. It's my way of shutting out the world and going deep inside myself and being me.  Although, lately, a nap simply ain't doing it...

Simply put, I cannot hide from myself. No matter how many naps I take, no matter how deep I sleep, I cannot forever choose to sleepwalk. Yes, I must look within and see what's going on with me. I have to find out why I make the moves I make. Why I let pride lead the way. Why I let my ego get the best of me... why I choose not to be vulnerable in front of those closest to me? What am I afraid of? Why am I hiding...and when will I let myself breathe.....?

heartbreak

Have you ever had the wind knocked out of you? I mean you are, literally, gasping for air, heaving, can't get enough oxygen to your lungs, sucking in air as fast as you can because you feel as if you're going to die? Tears stinging the back of your eyes, threatening to escape because the lack of oxygen is too much too handle.. to even concieve... You literally feel like you're going to die... That feeling to me is the equivalent of heartbreak. It feels as if every breath you take that your heart is breaking. How can something that is clearing mental emit such a harsh and physical pain? How is it that you don't even think about your heart until it feels as if it's about to jump through your chest..break thru the breastbone and land in your hands... broken. I wouldn't wish that pain on my worst enemy. Heartbreak is undeniable, unquestionable the worst pain in the world. I'd rather go thru child birth again before I get my heart broken again. Childbirth only lasts for a while and you can get medication for the pain to stop.. Heartbreak takes time to get over.. There is no medication in the world that can stop that pain. You can drink it, smoke it, snort it (whatever your vice) away but it will slowly creep back to the surface. As soon as you think, you're healing and you're ready to try your hand at love again..BAM! In walks heartbreak..aha! You thought I forgot ya didn't you? Then it's back to the sobs, the tears, the depression, the lackadaisical attitude, no enthusiasm..nothing. Just emptiness... (I can't write this bullshit.. lol)

Where's my brother to tell me: man up! lol

My old self....

When I moved to GA in my late 20s, I was fresh outta my momma's house and I have never been on my own. I was moving in with my best friend and trying to settle into my new life. I had big dreams about my new life in Georgia. I dreamed of  pursuing my dream of being a court reporter, working in a great agency, seeing the sights, meeting a wonderful man, getting married, having another kid and living happily ever after.. Whew! What's that saying? Tell God your plans and watch him laugh? Little did I know how much of a sense of humor He has....

The only problem with dreams are reality. In reality, I was torn between my old self and my new self. The old me was full of anger and disappointment. My previous relationship had left me dejected, defeated, abused and with low self esteem. My new self was full of hope. My new self was ready to explore her surroundings.. Make new friends. Find the hot spots. Get settled into my new life but my old self rebelled...My old self wanted (and did...for a while) to stay in the house, cry, be homesick, miss my ex, call my mother, call my daughter and be miserable... See, I left everything back home. Everything that meant the most to me. Everything that was near and dear to my heart....but more importantly, I left my child.

Today, my daughter is a beautiful woman. At the time I left home, she was 10 years old. She was a bright eyed, dimpled chin, smiling child. She was so happy. Always smiling. She was very loving and my one and only baby. I left her thinking I was doing a good thing (sorta). I left her because I needed a break. I needed to get me together. I was so fucking miserable. My heart was broken. I left her thinking she didn't need to see her mother broken. I left her with her father, who I knew wasn't the greatest father in the world, but my mind was clouded and my judgment so off that I left her anyway.

I didn't realize the impact of my leaving her behind. I didn't realize how many sleepless nights I would endure or that she would endure during my abasence. I didn't realize that the better decision would have been for her to come with me to see her mother go from a spineless little girl to a strong, independent woman. I didn't realize that because I was so broken that she, too, was broken. I didn't know how to save her or me, for that matter. I didn't realize that just having her with me would have been enough. I didn't realize that even though I called every day and helped with homework over the phone or went home for every single birthday or brought her to Georgia for every single break, that she was hurting. I remember a particular time, she came to visit and it was time for her to leave but she cried and whined the whole time she was with me.  I was so frustrated with her by the time we drove to the airport, I damn near threw her on the plane. I made a habit of not watching her plane take off because from experience, I would leave the airport crying hysterically so I would put her on the plane and walk away. Now had I been in my "right" mind, I would have known that my absence was the cause of all the tears: hers and mine. But like the self absorbed person I was, it had to be her and not me. I was just crying because she was leaving and I wouldn't see her for a while. I never looked too deeply into it.. I couldn't.. not just yet.

Stranger Danger...

Growing up, you were taught to be weary of strangers. You were taught not to take candy from them or to talk to them. Don't get in anyone's car who you don't know and if you see someone unfamiliar to keep walking. What happens when that stranger is someone you know. Someone familiar to you? Someone you would trust with your life... Someone you live with? Someone who you swore would take care of you, provide for you....love you? What do you do then? What if you're a child and it's a parent? A wife and it's your husband? A girlfriend and it's your boyfriend? Is it still stranger danger?

Last week, I received a phone call about a friend of mine. He has been charged with murder. I was stunned. I still am. When I pulled the article up in the paper, I just stared at the mugshot. I couldn't believe nor fathom the fact the that he could have done something as heinous as he is charged. I do know that you never really know someone or that you could never really know what they're thinking or capable of doing, but murder. How could this be? Not too long ago, we were online chatting it up.. laughing and talking. Murder, though? Really? His mugshot looked like him but it wasn't him. You feel me? I read the name. I looked at the picture. I read the name. I looked at the picture. I read the article, looked at the picture, read the name. Murder? In my mind, it takes a mean, nasty, crazy individual to kill, rape, rob, maim or harm another human being. You have to have a black heart, no soul and be raised by the devil. You don't have any feelings, emotions or reasoning capabilities... There's nothing to work with, compromise with, rationalize with, feel, go back and forth with....nothing... Just a shell of a person who is pretending to be a person.

He hasn't been to trial and yet I sit here condemning him. I'm trying not to judge but murder. That's the "legal" term for killing. The definition for murder is:

1. crime of killing somebody: the crime of killing another person deliberately and not in self-defense or with any other extenuating circumstance recognized by law
2. something difficult or unpleasant: something that is very difficult or unpleasant and involves great effort or hardship
3. kill somebody illegally: to kill another person deliberately and not in self-defense or with any other extenuating circumstance recognized by law. http://www.bing.com/Dictionary/

That is such a harsh word... "He was murdered." "She was raped and murdered." The thoughts that word conjures up in my mind and I have a very active imagination. The word, to me, is scary. What does one do when they are killing someone? Do they set out that morning and know they are going to kill? Do they willingly and determinedly set out to murder someone? I know that some do..and I know that some are by happenstance and I pray that this is by happenstance. I pray that he snapped and was outside of himself when he committed the crime. I can't believe in my heart that he set out that fateful night to murder the individual intentionally. I pray that he lost it for a split second and then snapped back and felt instant remorse...not that that can bring the person back....ever.

I'm torn. On one hand, I want to mourn the person and on the other hand, I want to mourn my friend, although, he is not dead... When I stared at the mugshot, I didn't say monster or animal but the crime fits those names... I didn't scream, how could you do that (even though I should have) like I would normally when I hear of these crimes. I did, however, weep. I cried for the person, the crime and my friend. I cried because there's another black male in the system. Another black man who has taken a life and another black man lost. We just elected a black president a second time in this country and yet we still have black men killing each other.

God help us all.

JerseyLove

When I moved to Georgia in 2000, I was hurting. I just came off a five year relationship where I gave my everything. I never took the time to get me together. I found myself in multiple "friendships". One of which was a man from NJ who had a live in girlfriend. His name was Chris. He was tall. 6'2. Light brown. Bald head. Goatee. Dimples. Athletic and he represented home. Common-esque. He was a breath of fresh air. He was fitted caps and wheat colored timberlands.. Cool browns, beiges and blues... He was real hip hop. He was home. I loved his talk. His walk. His swag (for a lack of a better word). I loved how he called me Queen and treated me as such. (Funny, since he had a "queen" at home) I loved how he took care of me and made sure I was okay. I loved that he would come by my place or call me just to check on me. I loved how he took care of me even when I didn't need it... I also, loved him. I wasn't suppposed to fall for him but I did.. How could I not? In my mind, he represented peace, tranquility and security...while he was with me. I never thought about his woman at home...while he was with me. I never thought about his kid at home....while he was with me. I never thought about her wondering where he was when he was with me... that didn't matter...while he was with me. I only wondered about those things in the middle of the night when I was alone. I wondered about those things on my drive to and from work. I would even look for his truck, a black Expedition. I joined the gym he went to just so I could "bump" into him.. I never did. I "found out" where he worked and would sit outside his job... I would call him on his job.. I started to make it difficult for him and me. I became obsessed. I found his address online. I found his home number. Called once and she answered. I hung up. I never went to his house but always wanted to. I never went Glenn Close or anything like that.. Somewhere in my mind, I KNEW I wasn't THAT crazy! I just wanted to be with him at any cost or at all costs... Simply, becuz he reminded me of home... or what home represented for me. That relationship lasted almost a year and it was hard for me to let go. I did eventually but still wonder how he is doing. I know he has since moved out of state and is now married to the live in girlfriend. I also knew that I would never be the other woman again...or so I thought.

I am...

I was watching Joel Osteen last night on Oprah's lifeclass. He said, whatever follows "I am" will come looking for you... There are so many negative "I am's" that I say to myself on a regular basis. I wonder why it is so much easier to believe the negatives than the positives. I am 42 years old. I am a mother, a daughter, a sister, a cousin, a friend, a lover, a co-worker, a native New Jerseyian, a libra and the list goes on and on... When I look at that list, I wonder in what area could I have done better? Could I have been a better mother? Of course. A better daughter? Sister? Cousin? Worker? The answer is of course. A resounding Yes! But what IS exactly better? A better listener? More compassionate? More attentive? Less selfish? More people oriented, friendly? I am but who I am... me.

One of my favorite poems:

I am enough, just as I am.
unfinished,
imperfect,
uncertain of the road I choose
yet, certain that I must continue.

I am enough for some
and too much for others.
I struggle with myself.
I wrestle with fear.
I avoid the parts of me
that are dark and unavoidable.

Yet, I want to hide no more.
I am alive.
I know because I feel.
In my eyes,
I am damaged,
hurting,
healing,
in need of improvement.

BUT in the eyes of God
and in the place where grace abides,
I know I am enough.

Author unknown

ThisBook

ThisBook is an amazing tool. It will show you what and who you're missing out on. It will show you ex loves (if you have not de-friended them), ex friends (if you're not de-friended), activities that you have zero interest in or long to do; and it will show you exactly how empty your life is or how fulfilled everyone else's life "appears" to be...ThisBook is an illusion of sorts. A magic trick. You are David Muthaphucking Copperfield. By a click of the mouse, you can make people disappear, your thoughts matter and people. who you have never met (and probably will never meet), interested in you...by simply posting a picture, copy a picture or cropping a picture. It allows you to be who you want to be..project who you think you are and be as bold and as confident as you wish you were in reality....

My Future

I wake up feeling lonely and horny. I want to feel a man on me, in me and around me. I want to feel his essence.. mostly, on me. I have this back up dude, Jamal. Jamal is from my hometown. I've known him for years but didn't really KNOW him. We hung in the same circle. We know all the same people but we just didn't know each other. Jay (I'll call him Jay for short) is not my type at all. He's my height. Light skin (I like them blue black..blurple if you will), a lil round and back in the day, he was a pretty boy...so NOT my type. I like them rough, rugged and raw! We are facebook friends as well. He would inbox me from time to time to catch up. He would usually push up, trying to see where my head was. Who I was dating, if I was dating or if I wanted to hook up with him. More often than not, I didn't. I was in and out of pseudo-relationships. Trying to make them into relationships. Dating this one and that one but not finding what I need. Thinking I was getting what I needed at that time when in all reality, I wasn't. The last time Jamal hit me up I was fresh out of something. I dated a fireman for about six months. He wanted space. I wanted love and ultimately, I gave him what he wanted. I was online and Jay  inboxes me. We start chatting and he left his number. I didn't call right away. As a matter of fact, I didn't call at all. He inboxed me again. I told him I was heart broken and he said he was the cure for heartbreak. Intrigued, I say, is that right? He assured me, he would be the medicine that I needed to heal my broken heart.. He ain't never lied. I gave in and went over there one Saturday afternoon and got the ride of my life! I was so spent but satisfied by the time I left that I knew he was going to be my summer fling...or so I thought. We started "kicking it" on a regular basis. I was getting my fill at companionship and "physical"ship. It was flowing nicely. We both knew the rules of the games. No emotions. I was good. My emotions were buried deep inside. Jay started to brush me. I would call, he wouldn't answer. I would text, he wouldn't respond. If I would get him on the phone by text or voice, he would say, "yeah, I saw you called/texted. I was busy." Say word? Bet. I can take a hint. I pushed on. Now of course, once I stopped all communication, here he comes. Dude, I'm over it. Please stop calling me. (He still calls to this day). So Jay was my back up dude. I knew he would come thru for me. I knew he will do exactly what I need him to do: kiss me, lick me, suck me, fuck me, hug me, squeeze me, make me feel like I'm the only one in the world, make it all about me. (Eyes closed, head back...hmmm.)  Let me call him, right now! I pick up my phone. I dial 4-0-..I hang up. I start talking to myself, really? Yes. Call him. Okay. I pick up my phone. I dial 4-0-4- I hang up. I can picture all things he does to me and I'm seriously turned on but not enough to complete the phone call. What's going on w/me?? I get up and go to the bathroom. I look at myself in the mirror and say, Who are you? I shake my head. I don't know. Now, I'm thinking.....ut oh! Simple physical pleasure is not enough anymore. I want MORE. I want the whole thing. I deserve the whole thing. I want the entire cake, not just the icing. I want to make a cake from scratch. I want and need all the ingredients it takes to make a cake from scratch and then the icing.  Don't get me wrong. I've been that girl who would make that call, get exactly what I need, bounce and be happy, perfectly satisfied. Not anymore. That girl is gone. How do I know? Because I don't see her in the mirror anymore. I'm starting to dream of coupledom. Attending functions together. Going to family events. Date night. Lazy Sunday mornings. Late nights.. Marriage. A perpetual goofy grin on my face because I'm thinking of "him"..My "him"...so I don't complete the call.

Instead, I pick up my laptop and go on this dating website I've been on for a while and start to peruse the ads. Searching...searching...searching.. I don't "see" anyone that piques my attention. Let me try a different  tab. I go to the tab that reads, MEET ME. I click on the link that says, "People who want to meet you". Meet me? Yes, let's see who wants to meet ME.. I'm scrolling down the list. No. No. No. No. N- wait a minute. What is this? WHO is this?! Yes! Oooo la la! Tall, dark, fine, nice smile, looks clean (that's important), employed, has a car, own place..yes, yes, yes! He has to have the 3! JOB, CAR, PLACE! You would be surprised as to how many don't! He looks good in his pictures and on paper. What the hell I say and I send him an email. Now here's the part where I'm supposed to say, "I don't normally do this but...." but that would be a lie. Dating online is my thing. I am proficient on Internet dating. I've been doing it for a while and am no stranger to the quick meet & greet. I've basically know how to finagle a profile so I appear approachable. I know men don't read all the verbiage so I know to make it short and sweet. I know catch words, catch phrases and what pictures NOT to post. Although, that has not stopped the occasional pervert. If I see someone I like, I will send him an email with the quickness. If it works, then it does and if not, then cool, move on to the next. I usually pick the tall, dark, FINE ones who don't want me. I am not their type. I'm either too tall, too big, too fat, too brown.. just "too". Whateva, their loss! At least that's what I tell myself. Rejection hurts but being alone on those cold winter nights hurts worse! My sister told me a long time ago to like the person who likes me.. Do you know how hard that is? Usually the ones that like me are NOT my type and I don't like them. There is no chemistry; sexually, mentally or otherwise. I can't see them with me. I can't see me with them. I can't see them in my bed, house, head, body, life, circle, nothing! But let's get back to tall, dark and fine! I send him an email and tell him I am interested, hope he is too. I sign it, me:) and hit the send button. I patiently (not!) stalked his page and my inbox! Checking the time I sent it and the time it is now. Checking myself in the mirror. Trying on shoes. Getting something to eat. (In all reality, it didn't take that long...I'm a lil dramatic) Watching TV and DING! goes my notification bell on my phone. I smile. Get excited. I open the email and it's him! He's interested too..called me beautiful and wants to know the next step.. Marriage of course! Whoa Nelly! Slow ya roll, Sis.. breathe.. think, respond... restrain yourself... lol Let's talk marriage on date 2.. His email flows. I can tell he has a sense of humor, perfect. Witty, I like that. Not trying too hard..Our conversation is effortless and I'm enjoying him via the net. He leaves me his number, tells me he will be waiting and he signs his name: Jamal. I'm stunned. I sit and look at his name with my mouth hanging open. I am a believer. I believe in God and I believe there are no such things as coincidences. However, what are the odds that I would meet a man name Jamal when I was going to call my cut buddy Jamal. Two different men, same name. Can you sing, God's try'na tell you sumpin?! RIGHT NOW! lol

That was Sept 8th (Recently, I was told that the number 8 means new beginnings) and we had our first date Sept 9th (and the number 9 means, a finality to judgement. It marks the end and is significant of the conclusion of a matter). We had an ice cream date and a walk in the park. For those that know me, know I don't do "walks in the park". There are bugs and stuff outside AND I love love love ice cream. We walked and talked for two hours. I didn't even finish my ice cream. We have been dating for a little over a month and it's good. I like him. He's giving me all the things that I need to bake a cake from scratch. I don't feel rushed. I feel like it's flowing. He's what I like: Stable, God-fearing, compromises, affectionate, a willingness to do things. He seems to be open and he said we are exclusive.. I love that and I'm cooking for him. Where dey do dat at?!