Beyonce v. Sasha Fierce....Meeting a Man's Representative!

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Hi!  My name is Breeanne (that's one word).
I am 20 (something)
I am from Chicago (the Southside)
I am a journalist (for a really boring periodical...so...)
I like reading on my free time (really girly, ridiculously romantic, novels) ...AND...
I like cupcakes (from Georgetown Cupcakes MINUS the long line).

These are all the details that I share on my Facebook, Twitter and used to share on my Myspace page when folks still logged on religiously 25 years ago.  I also share these details with random men that ask me "what yo name is," with potential contacts at networking events, and during the 7 minute wait for the metro train.


These details are my Beyonce, before I introduce a man to my Sasha Fierce!  They represent a small snapshot of me, a small innocent pile of meaningless facts that allow a person get to know my representative!  And, trust me, everyone in the District of Columbia (and any major city or small town) has a representative!

On this day while having ice cream with Big Chocolate (my blind date from two weeks ago), I was slowly revealing a few unknowns about myself like: where I got my new pair of shoes for 75% off, my six week fast from red meat, and how I preferred granny panties over boy shorts! The latter was totally inappropriate (I know!) but hey...in the interest of revealing the unknown....

Satisfied with my reveal, I mentally brushed off my shoulder, popped my proverbial collar...and dared Big Chocolate to show me the man behind his representative.

Well, "mama" he said....

I am 29. (good!)
I am from Atlanta (getting better, I love a Southern boy!)
I am in school working on my Bachelors (awesome!)
I am gainfully employed!  (YES!  YES! YES!  Where's Oprah's couch when you need to jump on it!) 
And...I'm getting started in my rap career.  I got a hot new track coming out this summer. 

I hesitated....

For one second....

An aspiring rapper?....at 29?....

Now, I am not one of those chicks that hates rap!  In fact, I love rap.  On any given day, you could find me bumping Kanye's "Diamond Are Forever" or Lil' Wayne's "Mrs. Officer," on my ipod Nano and on super high volume.   If it was a good day, you might even catch me stop and do a little booty pump in time with the beat.

But...ummm...dating a rapper...I wasn't sure.  I mean, didn't Lil' Wayne just get three women pregnant at the same time, and didn't Jay-Z secretly (keyword: secretly) date Beyonce for like 12 years...I am no man's (I repeat...NO MAN'S) baby mama or badly kept secret...

Maybe I could do this date-a-young-geezy thing, though.  After all, there was Pharell (the cutest, classiest nerd ever), and Common who wrote that love song/rap for Erykah Badu!

So...I inquired....

"Tell me about this new single."

"Mama!  This joint is going to be hot in streets." He pronounced streets with a "z." Then he promptly pulled out his I-phone and googled YouTube...

I was hopeful...

"BAM!  There you go!" He said slamming his "youtube" video in front of me.

A track started playing.  The beat was hardcore, had a little base, and the drums were making my foot tap  just a little bit....

Then...I heard the lyrics....

"Shawty got a big, juicy booty...got a big, round booty....got a big, juicy booty....got booty booty booty for days!"

Ummm.....

"Shawty got a big, juicy booty...got a big, round booty....got a big, juicy booty....got booty booty booty for days!"

I tried to look impressed.  I mean I really tried.

But then he got up from his chair and started rapping an impromptu verse...something about booty shapes and butt cracks....and then after two (excruciatingly) long minutes, and nineteen (ridiculously) long seconds...the track ended!


THANK GAWD...there was a Jesus...somewhere....

"The name of the track is "Juicy Booty," mama."  Big Chocolate said. "I figure if I could get the strip joints to  bump this then play it at a few college parties, the radio stations may pick it up,"

I wasn't convinced.  Not because he didn't sound incredible sexy while rapping, because he did...but I guess I just wasn't into the whole booty rap thing.  In all fairness, this was probably because I didn't have J-Lo's ass, but if I had to keep it all the way 100....it had more to do with my one visit to see a stripper that had resulted in the dancer farting in my lap (true story!)...I mean, how could I support a future boyfriend if I had been scarred for life by a stripper's wayward flatulence.

YES...Big Chocolate and I moved past answering the top TWO most annoying questions in DC...."where are you from"....AND..."what do you do"...

BUT....

I was NOT a fan of booty songs...but who knows...he might NOT have been a fan of 20 (somethings) in granny panties....

He and I had to decide if we liked the person behind our representatives...


Either way, I knew I could add another detail to my "getting to know me" list:

Hi!  My name is Breeanne (that's one word).
I am 20 (something)
I am from Chicago (the Southside)
I am a journalist (for a really boring periodical...so...)
I like reading on my free time (really girly, ridiculously romantic, novels)
I like cupcakes (from Georgetown Cupcakes MINUS the line)....AND...
I am not a fan of booty songs (...and no, I can't turnaround so you can see why)

Follow Single Lady in DC .... http://tinyurl.com/datingindc

Sorbet and the Sweet Taste of Consistency

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Sorbet – a dessert that tastes just like ice cream - is easy to experience and much harder to create.  It requires the producer to mix the ingredients in a specific order, stir them in a particular way, and chill the final product for a precise amount of time. If the instructions aren't followed or if the process isn't respected, the end always results in a runny mess or big ball of ice. 

However…

If it is made according to the recipe…every single time…the final product will – without fail – always come out creamy, smooth and will satisfy the most discriminating of taste buds.

In the dating world, consistency is important! 

If a man is interested in you, he will consistently show it and will not deviate from the patterns that he established when he first met you.

Big Chocolate was tall, well-spoken, knowledgeable….and ABOVE ALL things…he was consistent. He called me every night, he texted me every morning, and it was refreshing to experience someone who didn’t cause me to question his interest.

We agreed to meet up the following Saturday, and though I fully expected our next date to be better than the first I still had reservations.

Not because he had said something OR had done something.  But, because our situation felt just a little TOO good, I mean it felt waaaay TOO good!  Like that moment when you think that handsome stranger is smiling seductively at you from across the room... and just when you and your cleavage go over to say "hello"...he admits he was really trying to holla at your flamboyantly dressed male friend.

Embarrassing!

Big Chocolate was proving too good to be true; so, when we met for dinner I decided to add a little spice into the mix:

"So Big Chocolate," I said. "What are your feelings on monogamy?"

Silence.  

Tap, tap, tap!  Testing, Testing! 

More silence. 

Check 1, 2, 3.  Check 3, 2, 1. Is this thing on?

Giving me a delicious smile, he continued. “Well, I have to be honest with you, sweetheart, I have a dragon that I’m trying to kill right now."

He went onto explain that his dragon was women, that he had always had a weakness for a pretty face and a nice body. 

…Is that right?…

 “It’s like my daddy said.” He continued. “ Women are like locks.  Men are like keys.  I've met many, many, many women who have allowed me to open their locks and although I enjoyed it I had to ask myself..."

I sat forward on the edge of my chair....

"What do you call a lock that is just a little TOO easy to open?"  

Loose?

Maybe, broken?

Perhaps...unlocked?

He chuckled, “PRETTY, SHITTY....as in it's a pretty, shitty lock.”

I laughed so hard I almost choked on my dinner roll.  Almost....

“Just think about it, if it’s easy to open, that means one man's key ain't the first and probably won't be the last to get inside."  He reached over and grabbed my hand. “But I like you and I do not think you have a shitty lock.  You got that type of lock that requires a special type of key.”  Then he winked at me.

Wait a minute.

Wait....just...one...gosh...darn...minute.  

When he said "key," was he referring to his….

Underneath the table, I crossed my legs.  I mean, Big Chocolate was cute and I appreciated the compliment... but if his key had opened a whole bunch of pretty, shitty locks….didn’t that make his key...

...a pretty, shitty key?

As we shared dessert…I wondered if being consistent was a Catch 22…

Sure, Big Chocolate was predictable…insomuch as I knew he would call me every night around 9pm and text me every morning around 6:30am.  But did his tendency to perform the same actions in a uniform manner also filter into other areas of his life as well?  

In other words, I wondered if he was being just as consistent with other women.   If I was the 9pm girl...was it possible there could also be an 8pm, 7pm and 6pm girl eagerly anticipating phone calls at the exact same time? 

There was no way for me to know...


...but I decided in that moment that even though I liked Big Chocolate, I like the idea of keeping my lock unopened a whole lot more....

................................................................................................

Dating in DC continues with the next posting entitled, Happy Endings, make sure to leave your mark and post a comment!

And...watch for a new post every Monday and Wednesday (and sometimes Friday)....

Dating vs. Drowning

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 "Head under water and you told me to breathe easy for a while. The breathing gets harder even I know that." It is absolutely amazing how one can capture the essence of heartbreak without explicitly stating it.  I listened to the lyrics of this  love song on replay the first few days after my break-up, totally feeling the dilemma of attempting to breathe in an environment that lacks oxygen.  To inhale in the absence of air.  It's a fete I have been attempting to accomplish....with "air" being the representation of embracing the single life.  I was failing miserably and though the artist's song ends with a dismissal of her past love, "I'm not going write you a love song," she says.  It wasn't so easy for me because I was feverishly writing a few songs of my own like: "Heart in A Million Little Pieces," "Can't Sleep at Night,"  and "You Dirty, Rotten, Heartbreaking Mothfu***"   

You get the point!

Each night, I crawled into bed hugging a box of Kleenex and welcoming the escape that slumber provides. Every morning...I rose with a big, purple elephant twiddling its toes on the top of my chest.

The pity party ended every morning promptly at 6:28am, however, because that's when Chris - the wannabe accountant - called, and I knew if he heard tears in my voice, he would start bombarding me with statistics...

"99.86% of women will go through heartbreak in their lifetime."
"90% of them will move on and find something better."
"1 in 20 women are going through what you're experiencing right now."

Blah, blah, blah, blah! Heartbreak, like panties, is personal. It's specific to each individual, and "should" have only one owner.  I needed Chris to take my panties off! (well, not in that way -- but you know what i mean)

This particular morning, like clockwork, Chris called at 6:28am.  I put on a happy sounding voice and started asking him about long division and multiplication tables.  You know, all the things that get aspiring accountants all excited and feeling warm and fuzzy inside!

He surprised me, because instead of replying with an answer like 35%, he told me to be downstairs by 5:00pm.  To dress nice, put on some heels, fix my hair and put some colorful lipgloss on.

Interesting.

Interesting indeed.

I had to admit that I spent the work day intrigued to the point of being unable to concentrate.  What was going to happen at 5:00pm?   Were we going back to the bar to play Hitch?  Was he going to beat down my ex, while I watched with my extra shiny lips?  Maybe he was going to instruct me on the importance of calculus.  I couldn't figure out the answer, but when the clock turned to 4:30pm, I had to admit the purple elephant from earlier had been replaced with a crowd of butterflies.

I raced home. Got dressed, and nervously headed downstairs for my 5:00pm.....

Date?

As I rounded the corner and I saw this chocolate, well-built, tall man standing on the outside of his four-wheel drive.  When he saw me, he perked up and started advancing.

Chris had - in fact - hooked me up on a blind date,

OR

I was about to get mugged!

I smiled, but slowly slid my hand in my bag and put a finger on the tip of my mase.  He was cute, but momma ain't raise no fool!

He introduced himself, and told me Chris had informed him that I needed a reason to smile.  He said, he was there to meet that need.

Oh really!  I thought.

Peering at him curiously, I noted that he was dressed nicely, had a genuine smile, and I could see his government credentials hanging from his rearview mirror. He seemed legit!

So, with a finger massaging the trigger point on my mase bottle, I decided to let my guard down...slightly... 

Besides....and, let me keep it real for a minute...

Homeboy was fine (pronounced: fwhine!).  I mean this guy was handsome with a capital "H!"  In fact, he looked like a big piece of Godiva chocolate, and though chocolate gives me the runs, I was willing to take the risk.

Hey, you only live once!

Big Chocolate was the perfect gentleman.  We chatted about crazy women, how the military shaped his life, our international travels, his love for music, and our new business ventures.  The content of the conversation was not not only extraordinary, but the flow was absolutely outstanding.

Over the course of more than 3 hours, the conversation never hesitated, and together he and I coasted from topic to topic taking brief detours along the way...

And just when he was about to pull up to my place...

....it happened....

That elusive comfortable silence that generally only happens when two people are genuinely at ease with one another!  It was as though we hit that wavelength where there is an understanding that doesn't need the assistance of words to define the energy surrounding the moment.  And for the first time since the breakup and since saying good-bye to A Long Walk...I felt I could breathe easy.

I even realized that I hadn't once discussed exchanging numbers, or if there would be a second date.  In the absence of this expectation, I felt I truly liberated.

Big Chocolate hugged me good-bye three times...tight...strong...close...and, for the first time in weeks, I fell asleep without molesting my Kleenex box throughout the night.

6:28am that next morning, my phone chirped....it wasn't Chris, though...instead it was a text from Big Chocolate....

It had two words: 16 Bars

I'm no music whiz kid, but I knew his text had to do with a song.  I was curious! 

"90% of them will move on and find something better,"  I could hear Chris say!

I was determined to be in that percentage.