My Girl Has a Girlfriend...

Every woman regardless of age should have a girlfriend.  Unless, of course, she's a lesbian...

Last night my girlfriend called me three times after 11pm, left five voice mails (don't ask how), and showed up at my door before the sun had a chance to say "Saturday."

"Bree!"  She yelled, waking me up from a sleep that was so sexy, I had my pillow squeezed in between my knees.

"Bree, open up!"

Shutting my eyes further, I willed the high-pitched voice penetrating the walls of my front door to be that of Idris Elba or at least Jake Gyllenhal with his shirt off...

Unfortunately for me, the person standing on the other end of my eye crust and my front door, did not have Gyllenhal's chest or his man parts.

Womp.

"Girl, I called you." my girlfriend said bursting in with bagels in hot coffee.
"Ok."
"You didn't answer."
"Ok..."
"I said. You did not answer your phone."
"I said. Oh - kay...."
"Yea, well, what were you doing?"
"Dude!!  What the...!" 
"You STILL didn't answer my question."

Clearly, she was paying attention...

For a millisecond we glared at each other from across the room, with her contemplating  all the ways she could lecture me about calling folks back and me thinking about which was worst:

The fact that she had brought blueberry bagels (despite my allergy to fruit). Or, the fact that I had just noticed it was 6:15 in the morning...on...a....Saturday!

Girlfriends!

You can't live with them...and well, you can't find a boyfriend to replace them. So, as we sat there, squaring off over a open container of cold butter and coffee, I asked myself...

In DC, why is it so much easier to find a girlfriend than it is to lock down a boyfriend?

For all intents and purposes, Southern Charm was not-  in the truest sense of the word - my girlfriend.  I mean I hadn't done anything awkward like touch her tongue with mine, or sneak up on her in the shower!  But, she was my non-lesbian partner, who I loved deeply despite being in a serious but sometimes uncomfortable long-term relationship that started 5 years ago!    

I still remember how she and I had connected over a margaritas and man talk!  And, we had remained close throughout the years mainly because we shared a common interest that involved NOT being afraid to commit to simple things like...

keeping an appointment
going to see a chick-flick....

OR
....other people! 

...you know, all those things that men get anxiety issues over!

So I had pardoned Southern Charm for her lack of a penis, and applauded her for being the boyfriend I never had (in other words, a man who was in touch with his inner Oprah Winfrey)...

This was until....

My life changed. And, with those changes had come a slight shift in our interactions.  My Fridays were spent having a Netflix Night (R.I.P Blockbuster) without her, Saturdays were suddenly packed up with impromptu dinner dates without her, and Sundays were used to test out this thing I just realized existed in my kitchen: my oven!  Without Her!

In other words, something or someone was taking my girlfriend time away from Southern Charm.

As a result, I had gradually started receiving "where r u" texts from her at all hours of the day, 10 day advanced notices to schedule time with me, and now early morning visits with bagels I could not eat.

Clearly, while she was paying attention to me, I was not paying attention to her.

And being the good girlfriend that Southern Charm was, she had not yet called me out on acting like the bad boyfriend that she and I had pinky swore we would never ever date...

"Who is it?"  Southern Charm said, sounding a lot like she was expecting a "it's not me, it's you conversation."

But before I could answer her...I had to pause and think how this had happened:

How had a guy jockeying for the position of boyfriend, almost succeeded in trying to take my girlfriend's place?

Good Men Do Exist...

There are very few situations that will cause me to get down on two hands and knees in the middle of my apartment after 8pm on a Saturday night:

Money,

Moscato and...

Marc (Jacobs ;-) - but only because my ironing board is broken.

This past Saturday, however, two out of three rang true because somewhere between my trip to Bank of America and watching a boring episode of Football Wives on my couch, I lost a paycheck worth more than the one bedroom apartment I was paying to rent.  Now, generally, I do not get upset about losing something...because...well, I live in a 565 square feet of space...and nothing is never lost forever.

This time - however - the "lost something" was valued at about 20 Forever 21 shopping bags.  So, needless to say, I was in doggy position, flipping over couch cushions and heavy lifting bookcase with one hand WHILE bottle-palming Moscato white wine in the other...

I was angry...upset...irritated...

ashamed...and any other negative emotion that one can think of that begins with a vowel!

I really hate to lose something.


Correction!  I really hate to lose something that I know beyond a shadow of a doubt holds value. 
my job, my packcheck, my Seven for All Mankind high heel shoe...

As a single women, however, that previous list grows slightly.

In addition to fearing the loss of a job and a designer shoe...I also fear finding a GOOD MAN

Yes, finding (not losing) a good man....

Why? Because by finding him, there is always the threat that he may be lost  to some hoochie with a long weave, an ambitious lady with a big bum, or to a person wth higher stillettos than you named Chris(tina)...

Shortly after I lost my paycheck, I was drowning my sorrow in a glass full of grapefruit juice (read: no paycheck) at a DC networking event.  Not feeling up to doing the usual bait and switch to snatch a boyfriend with a business card...I had opted to do the unthinkable (as a single woman in DC)...which was NET-WORK (with NO INTENTIONS)...

It was during this time that I met some dude - whose face I didn't remember...but whose business card was quite impressive, and his handshake was grown man firm.  So. I emailed the next day thinking this guy is nice, employed in a sector that interests me, and "dang, it would be nice to buy me some catfish for lunch." 

I was hungry.

What I couldn't know - however - was that our first "business" email would transition step to finding out his zodiac sign, catapult into a digit exchange, land with me licking my lips at the sound of his voice on the phone, ...all before our "official" first date!

Who was this guy? I thought, who had Southern gentleman tendencies, big city boy aspirations, a sweet-tea smile and a sincerity that made me think good men do exist....

"Our Fri-date," he said "would answer all those lingering questions."

I waited a week in deep anticipation and intense premature nervousness, before our Fri-date arrived and he picked me up in a Hugo Boss suit, smelling faintly of Yves Saint Laurent...

What followed was the antithesis of an expectation...

Reservations at the Renaissance, flowers waiting on the table, a dinner discussion about all the uninteresting things old friends no longer care about, and an intimate moonlight stroll in a flower garden near the Gaylord.

It was during this time, he explained what my flowers meant...

Yellow for friendship, the foundation he hoped to build.
Red for romance, a promise of what was to come....and a....
Pastel Green vase, a nod to my favorite color.

"Are you spoiled?" he asked as he tickled my fingers and raised my ring finger to his lips.
"Nope." I said trying to keep it cool.
"After dating me, you will be.  I want to set the bar so high, no man will ever reach it."

Then he slid his arm in mine, and we slowly walked back to my Geo.

Jokingly I asked "Where'd you come from?  Do men like you even exist?"

He smiled.  "Sometimes..."

Our first date, our Fri-date, I felt was something I had never experienced...but it was an experience I had been unknowingly looking for in the climaxes of romance books and at the start of every fairytale...a man...no, a GOOD MAN who wasn't afraid to start with a "once upon a time..."

And after the shitty-key experience with Big Chocolate, the almost-never-counts experience with A Long Walk, and the failed pledging experience with My Crush...

I had stopped looking...for friendship, for love, for romance...until I stumbled into something that I had not been searching for...

A man who wanted to take charge of a situation and show me that two could possibly be better than one! 

A Boss...my Boss Boo...

I was happy...kinda...before that single woman doubt began to creep in....before I started asking myself ridiculously silly questions after an incredibly unbelievable first date...the first of which was:

In finding something so unbelievably good, how would I manage the fear of possibly losing it? 

When I got home, I placed my flowers on my coffee table and got down on my hands and knees to pick up a petal that had dropped to the carpet...

It was then that I found it....that which I had not been searching for...

Or rather, the piece of paper that had been playing hide-and-seek with me for two weeks now...my paycheck...and snatching it up I told myself that from this day forward:  I would never take for granted that which I deemed as valuable....again... 

Jezebel vs. Jessica Rabbit

A few weekends back (prior to meeting Lo (for loquacious)), I was forced to check my drivers license to make sure "Jezebel" didn't appear in front of my first name, Breanne.  You remember Jezebel, right?  The Biblical chick who misled and seduced the men of God to do horrible things, like have "sex."  I am so not her.  Partly, because my name begins with a "B" but mostly because I can't keep a straight face long enough to seduce any man, ever. 

I am that girl that giggles during a slow and slightly dirty dance and kills the mood.   I am the lady who walks a bit too fast in sexy stiletto heels.  I am the woman who covers up my "get 'em girl dress" with a trenchcoat in 80 degree weather in the middle of July. 

I am NOT a temptress, a seductress, a Marilyn Monroe, a Jessica Rabbit, and I am not a Jezebel.

So, on this night, I was wondering why my date was calling on Jesus for the fifth time even though he and I were seated on separate sides of his loveseat.  My guess was that he thought my toes - which were propped up on his lap - were getting dangerously close to his....um....bellybutton. 

Jesus had become the constant companion in our time together over the past five weeks of dating.  If a hug got too close, homie would yell "Praise the Lord."  If my bum brushed across the edge of his thigh, he would begin a rendition of Amazing Grace.  And if my goodbye kiss touched the edge of his lip, he would whisper "God is good."

All.
The..
Time...


Problem was.  I'm not a heathen-happy sinner!  I'm a 100% certified, Grade A, good girl, that doesn't have to subtract 10 and divide by 2 whenever a guy asks: "so how many men have you been with?" 

So...

I was confused when my date started treating me like I had a bad case of leprosy...and had to wonder had my good girl swagg gone stale? 

A phone call at 9pm that he took in the next "room," give me some much needed info....

I didn't catch all of the conversation, but I did hear him say "baby," "sweet angel" and "nothing."  Assuming I was the "nothing" he referred to in the latter part of his list, I waited until his whisper session was done and asked very loudly through the door....

"Was that Jesus on your main line?" before grabbing my Chloe bag and heading for the door.

My gut had told me that the game of church he was playing with me, coincided with the game of house he was playing with Virgin Mary': which apparently didn't include lounging on his love seat after the streetlights came on.

On the way back to my Geo, I  couldn't help asking myself was it possible to still be a 100% certified, Grade A, good girl in your 20's or was it smart to just "play" one on tv (hey Beyonce!).  I mean presumably, by the age of 24, a woman has swapped spit after midnight,  packed an overnight bag, and gotten a few miles out of her Victoria's secret stash.

Or...maybe Virgin Mary's still existed...

and Jezebel's were so 2001....

 

Better Than a $20 Hair Weave...

In the 8th grade, my mom conned me into thinking that a jheri curl was the next best hairstyle. 

Problem was. 

It was the late 90's, the film - Coming to America - was already ol' school, and the style required a 1/2 gallon of activator juice - daily! For one full year, I heard every Soul Glow joke EVER created, so you can imagine my excitement when my mom finally ordered my hair on a weave time out (which is the corner bad hair hairstyles go to get a better attitude)!

I still remember the 2 pounds of hair my mom bought, and how cute I felt after I swung 100% "glued-in" human hair over my shoulder.  It was like hair cuticle crack - and the only thing that could top this addiction was the fact that I found a woman to put it all in for $20.00!  

Since then, I've quit my weave-wearing addiction cold turkey...BUT.....I still have memories of how my $20 hair weave - RIP  - made me feel comfortable, confident, powerful and pretty!

No other experience compared to it....UNTIL...I met a guy who took 45 minutes to take me on a trip that should have only taken two (minutes, that is).  What this dude had, besides not enough money to get a GPS, was good conversation....and I liked it, which consequently made me like him....

Well...

Kinda.

I barely knew him.

I was - however - completely enamored by his words...

During our ride, he expressed himself to me in poetic form, challenging me to follow his flow as he encompassed me via a haze of non-sexual seductive adverbs, adjectives, nouns, and ACTION verbs....tempting the "good girl" in me to think very bad thoughts...about him!

And yet...none of his communications were of the post-coital (read: rated X) variety!

And he didn't just speak to me, because any loquacious (google it!) man can make silence look golden!  Just like any man can sign you up as a standby to a lone game of 20 questions (all about him), AND attempt to make his life seem more interesting than the Idris Elba's underoos scene in Takers (keyword: attempt).

This guy - however - was of a different variety.  He used his words as a deliberate, dialogue-inducing form of communication!

He couldn't have known this, but...ladies...his conversation was better than my ol' school $20 hair weave!

Well kinda...

At the very least, his conversation made me feel comfortable, confident, powerful and pretty. At the very most, I didn't have to drop two tens and cover my head every time a strong wind blew!

When we finally reached our destination, Sir Lo (for loquacious - google it!) leaned over - the soft, masculine scent of Armani Black permeating the small space between us - and said:

"I'm gonna make you like me." 

And maybe he was right...

Well...

Kinda...

I barely knew him.

But he could have had a point.  

If bad conversation could make one strongly dislike an individual, what were the possible side effects of a good conversation?  Was good conversation the starting point of something....well, something good? 

I didn't know for sure, but that was okay....because life is not a Facebook Status Update, I can't just like someone every 13 seconds...


His words - though - I was mesmerized by every 12 seconds into a 45 minute ride that should have taken only two (minutes, that is!)

Good Men In Short Supply

Even though I relocated to DC five years ago, I still ask myself why a tall woman like myself chose to live in a city where every man aspires to be an entrepreneur, an executive, and one inch taller than 5'4...

If I had to guess, I'd say I moved here because I dreamed of finding my intellectual soul mate in a city full of smart men.

What I didnt' expect to encounter were a city full of men with an angry case of Napoleon Complex, all of whom had an unquenchable desire to climb everything from the corporate ladder to a bar stool...the unofficial short man's high chair!

It's not that I don't love short guys!  Because I do (I mean I really do!) It's just that I was raised under the assumption that I should look up to my man!  My friends say it's the inner "height snob" in me that can't appreciate the fact that big things come in small packages.  But I know that it's really because I enjoy having dialogue in vertical positions without feeling the urge to rest my elbows on the top of my lover's head in rare moments of fatigue (or convenience).

If a good man is hard to find in DC, finding a tall man is even harder!!!


So what's a woman supposed to do in a city where you only have to be two inches past toddler height to get on the DC ride...

"You got to give them a chance!"  was my friend, Southern Charm's, answer.

Apparently, a few weeks ago Southern Charm had lucked up and found that rare man who had TOTALLY forgotten the ratio of women to men in DC is....

1 male to every 12,034 desperate and fashionably dressed women looking for any man that is...straight? (kinda)

Not only had she found this man, but he was also single (no kids), employed (legally), funny (not in a "heeeey boo" type of way) and Ivy-League!  If she and I hadn't been cool since before Palin copyrighted "you betcha," I would have hated her with the type of stank reserved for women who have been celibate for 2...long...

But I was happy for her....

Really I was...

(well kinda)

Until she started bragging about how he gifted her with Spanish love notes (and revealed their English meanings if she promised kisses), signed them up for joint Salsa classes (and practiced with her in private ;-), and synched their Google calendars (in order to make sure he made time to take time...just for her).

I was happy for her...

Really I was....

(well kinda)

"How tall is he?" I asked, while admiring the 4-inch pair of Jimmy Choos I had purchased for the purpose of casting "I Dare You" looks at the sea of microsized men at the event we were attending

Southern Charm smiled and responded, "Tall enough to ride this ride!"

Surviving Congressional Black Caucus While Single

Single Lady in DC: 

Surviving Congressional Black Caucus While Single

(Events Schedule Included)

Ladies!  CBC is here...again...and with it comes an abundance of opportunity to meet and greet with DC's most eligible bachelors!  Here are a few tips to help maximize the opportunity of being a single lady in DC, who is looking for love in a big city.

Be a Ciara in a Suit

Ciara is one of the sexiest non-singing sisters (hey, Rihanna) that I wish I knew, who rocks bomb weaves, impossibly tight clothes, and dances like a stripper. (No homo!)  When preparing to go out to a CBC event, channel your inner sultry-fied Ciara but keep your clothes PG (i.e. a suit or Michelle O-type dress). Get your outfits fitted, carry an emergency blazer and dust off the old ball and chain black dress. Being professional and sexy-fied is not an oxymoron, and everyone will notice if you're the only lady dressed like she's an extra on the Wacka Flocka video shoot.  This is not Miami (Welcome to DC).

He's Just Not That Into Too

Reading is FUNdamental, and hookt on fonix workt fer me!  Yes, I meant to type the word "too" ladies.  As in, don't be too much, too pressed, too talkative, too soon!  During these events less is more.  Keep the conversation light, fun and flirty and just when you feel he's hooked, drop your business card, and show him what 10 minutes of squats over the past 30 days have done for you by walking away!

Quid Pro Quo: Quid Pro Card

The most essential accessory that every lady should have besides a sexy stiletto and a basic black dress is an abundant supply of business cards.  This micro-rectangular piece of paper that masquerades as a mini Facebook Profile, is the ultimate professional tweet on paper.  It reveals a snapshot of who you are, what you do and how to stay connected in 180 characters or less.  More importantly, if Tall, Dark and Lovely ends up being Tall, Dark and Dumb, you can still prettily press ignore when he emails and keep it moving just like on your Facebook Page and Twitter Account.

Act Like a Lady. Think Like an Accountant!
It is imperative that every lady treat each event during CBC like an ungrateful boyfriend.  In other words, put your Freakum' Dress on, show him that you're Irreplaceable and embrace your inner Diva.  Never stay committed to one event while socializing during the afternoon CBC socials.  Each day there will be multiple events taking place in a short period of time.  It is your responsibility to be fabulous and fierce at as many events as possible.  Remember it's a numbers game; the more people you meet the higher the probability is that you will make a connection.  Besides, the only group of people that stay at an event from start to finish are the event organizers.  Don't be the event's mistress on the side.  Move on!

CBC is here ladies!  Have fun and be safe.

 A Few FREE Events for Single Ladies in DC

  

September 15 / 6:00pm - 9:00pm

1. Capital Cause: Political Fusion Networking Social / Midtown Lofts DC / RSVP: www.politicalfusion.eventbrite.com or info@capitalcause.com
2. Diva Lounge DC (Ladies Only) / Funxion Lounge / RSVP: thedivaloungedc@gmail.com 
3. NAAACC & NOBCO ALC Reception / Embassy Suites Hotel / RSVP: chairman@naaacc.org

September 16 / 6:00pm - 9:00pm

1. Black Ivy & Black Lawyers Association / District Lounge / RSVP: illacamila@yahoo.com
2. IMPACT Red Carpet Reception / The Ritz Carlton / RSVP: www.impact-dc.com 
3. NPHC ALC Reception / Union Station / RSVP: nphcreception@nphchq.org
4. Bermuda Pink Reception / Rooftop of Liberty / RSVP: rsvp@partybermuda.com 
5. A Heritage of Progress / Acadiana  Restaurant / RSVP: heritageofprogress@gmail.com 

September 17 / 6:00pm - 9:00pm 

1. Bitch is New Black Book Signing with Helena Andrews / Park on 14th / RSVP: guestlist@j-kprodutions.com 
2. Congressional Encore (A Formal Affair) / K Street Lounge / RSVP: recess@royaleventgroup.com

On to the Next One...

Admittedly, I still lose focus on what (or who) exactly has true value.

Two days after my bad date with the Energizer Old Spice Guy and a few weeks after my attempt to seduce my Crush had failed, I found out that A Long Walk, the gentleman in whom I had shared a string of beautiful dates with, was: "in..a...relationship" on Facebook as of 72+ hours ago!

Now...usually, I am happy when people get "in a relationship" and make it all public!  And, it only becomes an issue when the name following "with"  is one that I hadn't expected.

In this instance, the name I expected to see was mine.  Well - not really - but still I didn't expect to see "hers." 

I felt shocked, upset, hoodwinked, bamboozled and led astray!

A Long Walk had a GIRLFRIEND!

Every fiber in my being wanted to be upset.  I mean, who was he to move...on...

I mean what happened to that in-between incubator space that kept "potentials" in layaway....

Who had broken into my personal Potential Man store and cashed in!

I suddenly had an ill case of nostalgia, carefully recalling how A Long Walk and I had gone to dinner and to late night movies. How A Long Walk had given me a piggy back ride at midnight while we leisurely strolled a college campus, hugged me with less than 2 inches in between, and massaged the invisible corn on my pinky toe while we watched a Jesus movie...

Didn't that make me a girlfriend-in-waiting...or at least loyal layaway option?

That was a rhetorical question, btw! Because of course, that did NOT make me anything but the girl a day late and a dollar short.  Or, the girl who had joined the losing team, and got T-K-Od by some other chick in the title fight.

So I grabbed my Blackberry - my Ride or Die - and dialed my girlfriend, Flowerchild.

"A Long Walk has a girlfriend," I shouted. "And it's not me!"

"Okay, sweetie," she said.

Did she really just say: Okay. OK. Oh-kay!

She, a woman born and raised in Long Beach - the hometown of Snoop Doggy Dogg, Mr. I'll Pop a Cap in You - was supposed to say something more gutter than that. Like:

"Fu*** His Frienship"

"Fu*** His Girlfriend"

"Fu*** Dating in DC"

Flowerchild quite obviously was in that East Coast "I-Have-a-Reputation-to-Protect-Right-Now" mode. So, I hung up and called Southern Charm.

And tried again...

"A Long Walk...is...gay!"

"Oh my gosh, sweetie. Forget him. You can do so much better."

I lied.  Obviously. But only for five minutes before I told her that a Long Walk wasn't gay, he was just taken.

I mean geez ladies, the romantic in me couldn't let go of how A Long Walk had slow danced with me in his room and fed me fruit roll-ups. Similarly, the realist had to get...well..."real."  A Long Walk had kicked me out minutes after I asked him to cuddle me for a night. What reality told me was that "said girlfriend" had to have been the reason for the expulsion, OR maybe (just maybe) I had been "just (another guy's) friend."

I was two seconds away from grabbing a cigarette and a lighter and burning my dresses in a Waiting to Exhale Fashion, embracing a new "one of the guys" persona and re-stocking my wardrobe with sports jerseys and cargo-cut jeans.

BUT

Then I remembered...in dating, nothing is official until you get that title.

Until he calls you his girlfriend, his wife, his jumpoff, or his best friend (almost like a sister!)...you are in that in-between space where he coulda, shoulda, woulda but doesn't really have to choose you.

So, while Southern Charm substituted every curse word with "dang" "shoot" and "butt," I politely excused myself...found Jay-Z's new hit and turnt (yes turn with a "t") it all the way up, represented for all my East Coast Single Ladies that didn't get the title...

On To the Next One...

...and decided to pay my layway and value what I have a little bit sooner next time...