Date Eleven... The Blinking Red Light

Is it blinking yet? *wait wait wait*

*wait wait wait*….maybe he’s driving home….

*wait wait wait*…. I wonder if he’s ok??

I wonder if he’s trying to call me and my phone signal is fluctuating?  *wait wait wait*

Damn Digicel signal is probably off…*wait wait wait*

 I wonder if I should call him… or bbm him? *wait wait wa….sceams, my phone is blinking!!*

Read: ‘Email – Old Navy Mother’s Day Sale now on thru to May 15’

Damn it all it to hell….

Mix, Stir and Repeat this ish 24hours/7 days a week

I’m crushing on somebody hard and I couldn’t be more annoyed! The persistent thought dweller has converted good-good me into a bowl of mush and mash. I swoon and smile, he makes me laugh, we have a similar fondness for food and music and he’s pretty damn cute…but damn it all to hell, my expected euphoria is riddled with grief because having a crush sucks… yes I said it… I dislike crushing!

I expect you to say at this point, this knock kneed girl has no idea what she wants, cos now she find somebody she likes and her first reaction is disdain and nausea but:

i.              I spend all my good productive hours glancing at my phone wondering if he’s thinking of messaging me at the exact moment that he’s sauntering around in my head (which is every 10 secs grrr)

ii.            Having my emotions linked to someone else is exhausting…if he calls or messages, I’m a ‘please puss’ if not, I sulk…

iii.           I have to dress nice every day just in case he says lets link after work… Can’t afford a pop down day in the early stages…you must think i get up out of bed looking like a fox..

iv.           I daydream way way way way more often about ‘inappropriate’ things… mostly during work hours

v.             You have me googling and researching your behind!

vi.           I’m always over analyzing and waiting … I’m perpetually waiting for the blinking light and asking…what does the smiley face mean, why did he say that?

Crushing has left me tired, emotional and cranky. I’ve lost my restraint and self-control…this is straight primal behavior *insert call of the wild here*

Anyone else ever feel this way?

Date Ten.....I'm perpetually xx years old

Excerpt from a an article by Pamela Redmond Satran - 30  things every woman should know by thirty... since i'm perpetually 25, ive got '5' more years to add to my checked/highlighted ones below. Read and enjoy....

In May of 1997, I wrote this list. I had passed my thirtieth birthday and wanted to tell younger women about the things I really wished I’d had and known by that important milestone. I guess people agreed with what I had to say, because a few years later the list showed up in my e-mail inbox; a friend had forwarded it to me for my reading pleasure, completely unaware that I was the author. After that, every month or two someone would send it to me and I’d immediately hit “reply all” and type, “Hey, that was me! I wrote that for Glamour.” (After a while, I don’t think anyone believed me.) The list became a phenomenon; posted on hundreds of websites, it was attributed to everyone from Jesse Jackson to Maya Angelou to Hillary Clinton. Someone even published it as an anonymously written book. As I read over these lines now, so many of them still seem worth having and knowing—whether you’re 30 or 22 or 75. Being a little older and a little wiser, I’ve plugged in a few new “shoulds.” By all means, add some of your own.

By 30, you should have:

1.         One old boyfriend you can imagine going back to and one who reminds you of how far you’ve come.

2.        A decent piece of furniture not previously owned by anyone else in your family.

3.        Something perfect to wear if the employer or man of your dreams wants to see you in an hour.

4.       A purse, a suitcase and an umbrella you’re not ashamed to be seen carrying.

5.       A youth you’re content to move beyond.

6.       A past juicy enough that you’re looking forward to retelling it in your old age.

7.       The realization that you are actually going to have an old age—and some money set aside to help            fund it.

8.       An e-mail address, a voice mailbox and a bank account—all of which nobody has access to but you.

9.       A résumé that is not even the slightest bit padded.

10.     One friend who always makes you laugh and one who lets you cry.

11.     A set of screwdrivers, a cordless drill and a black lace bra.

12.      Something ridiculously expensive that you bought for yourself, just because you deserve            it.

13.      The belief that you deserve it.

14.     A skin-care regimen, an exercise routine and a plan for dealing with those few other facets of               life that don’t get better after 30.

15.     A solid start on a satisfying career, a satisfying relationship and all those other facets of life                   that do get better.

By 30, you should know:

1.         How to fall in love without losing yourself.

2.        How you feel about having kids.

3.        How to quit a job, break up with a man and confront a friend without ruining the friendship.

4.       When to try harder and when to walk away.

5.       How to kiss in a way that communicates perfectly what you would and wouldn’t like to happen next.

6.       The names of: the secretary of state, your great-grandmother and the best tailor in         town.

7.       How to live alone, even if you don’t like to.

8.       How to take control of your own birthday.

9.       That you can’t change the length of your calves, the width of your hips or the nature of your parents.

10.     That your childhood may not have been perfect, but it’s over.

11.     What you would and wouldn’t do for money or love.

12.      That nobody gets away with smoking, drinking, doing drugs or not flossing for very long.

13.      Who you can trust, who you can’t and why you shouldn’t take it personally.

14.     Not to apologize for something that isn’t your fault.

15.     Why they say life begins at 30.

Date Nine...carbons, copies and clones

And like the Eddie Murphy amidst multiple bad movie reviews I have returned....

Should we start this off with an apology or an explanation? #sighs

Lets just cut to the chase -  I've been absent. Loads of personal and professional changes but I resurface, ready to write. Thanks to all the persons who questioned me relentlessly about my blog... hope this shuts you up now *wink wink*

Throughout my 'sabbatical', loads of topics relevant to this blog crossed my mind...as is, I don’t even know where to start so here’s to the keypad, the chippies banana chips, the can of coke and 20 GB loaded iTunes on shuffle guiding the process.

Weddings are always good indicators to single people that no matter what toys we have at home, no matter who comes to visit every Saturday night or who calls on the same extension as nature that we are still alone.

So after attending the latest single self affirmation session last month (not to detract from how gorgeous the wedding was and how uber-sweet the couple are) I questioned why each suitor fell short of being ‘the almighty one’  then like my Christmas credit card bill in January, it hit me...

The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result but I have far too keen taste in shoes and accessories to be declared insane so I’m not (entirely) mad...but I must be because I’ve been dating carbon copies of one man.

My rambling theory was pretty much confirmed this weekend when I asked my friend to weigh in on a 'potential' and she said, "he looks just like ‘he-who-shall-not-be-named, as did xxx and yyy and zzz" 

Have I really been dating carbon copies of Voldemort? 

Date Eight....Death to the Ingénue

Apologies for the delay in posts... work has had me in a vice grip over the past couple of weeks..that aside...here we go...date eight...

The typecast damsel in distress, so 'blonde', so clueless yet so imposing and impractical. Often presented as the poster child of naivete or voted most likely to end up starring in her own Scream sequel...she just always happens to end up in need of a bail out or 'saving'.

The fair unsuspecting maiden of course requires a champion...a hero...a knight to ride up on a handsome steed and rescue her from the complexities of her problems, this brave and dashing soldier is your man.

Man has long fallen for the wiles of the archetype ingénue. In fact, she gave birth to the phenomenon that is ‘the hero’.

She never makes a conscious effort to exchange more than superficial pleasantries with you yet she's quick to make your man her own personal MacGyver. In all occasions, sit aside you should and watch her swoop in and make a hero of your beau. Contend and understand that 'she's just a friend and she had nobody else to call'.....

Wtf is wrong with women though? Like really...why do we thrive on creating these ‘uncomfortable situations’ for each other?

ingénue meet the vamp.. #pow!

Date Seven....Second Degree Burns

There’s a saying Caribbean people have about revisiting old relationships that goes ‘old firestick easy fi ketch’… translation… ‘previous loves/relationships are easily resuscitated’.

I never really understood that saying despite the multitude of R+B songs on the radio pining about unrequited love, the plethora of Hallmark cards pledging affections, the Viacom Studios scripted boy woos girl- their compatibility and similarities are uncanny-boy messes it up -boy does a noble deed to reclaim his honour-they ride off into the sunset storyline, and now here I am faced with my own fiery doppelgänger…

A niggling thorn in my otherwise romance-impregnable demeanour, the one that makes me wonder if it’s ever worth another try, the one who takes me from stark black ash of hate and regret to lingering red passionate emblems of reminisce.

What cruel deity scripts these stories? Aphrodite must be having a grand cackle while I trace the scar outline of the burns...the ones not inflicted by the carpet..

♫ If you see a ghost
Don't approach, it isn't me
I'm holdin' on, but I'm close
You're killing me, oh my love
We end up just like a kiss
... It's bittersweet
I'm livin', but my heart still says
In memory of your love
I'm six feet over
I'm six feet over, you... ♫

Date Six ...Of Nookie and Notches...

A lot of material for this blog is spurred from random conversations and interactions. One such recent conversation revolved around the thesis of sexual partner numbers,

what numbers are counted as low and high for men/women?

should you disclose your 'number' to your partner?

in this day and age, do the notches in your bedpost still mean something?

I set about to ask my favourite answer man Sir Google, do numbers really matter and what’s the 'average number of sexual partners' for both genders?

There was a mixed review with people from all around the world weighing in on the topic justifying their yes’s and no’s and I also found a ball park range on the million dollar question:

"men average sleep with 7-31 partners in their lifetime whilst women record 4-15 partners - US Study"

Take a moment, put those numbers into perspective (as well as add in the one or two more cases you KNOW those people failed to mention) and ask yourself .....do numbers matter? Do you want to marry a man that has slept with 31 women? Would you wife a chick that has been with 15 men?

Clearly there is a different weight system attached to both genders. Men with high numbers are revered as experienced stallions whilst women who take the frequent horizontal path are considered seasoned trollops. On the flip side, men with low numbers are supposedly timid and just a few days away from bursting drag-on out the of closet as with low numbered women deemed either shy, devout hand holding Christians or burdened with Daddy issues.

Blessed with friends on both ends of the sexual spectrum and having listened attentively to their tryst recalls, it’s fair to say that the world has become way way way way more casual about sex.

Lyrics and lines have been virtually dialled down to

“C’mon, it’s just a little pokey”

It’s a highly sexualized world and this liberation poses as a surreal alternative to ‘prudeness’. Those who indulge are viewed as ‘skilled’ at knowing what, when, how, who you want et al... I believe they call it ‘experienced’ lol

I have a male friend who is a few years younger than me who has testified to sleeping with around 30 women and I don’t think he’s exaggerating...as in...no he really isn't fibbing. One of my femmes, I think we've both lost track of her numbers and I’d be doing myself severe disservice if I never admitted that I wait patiently for her to pen her own sexscapade novel. Both have high numbers and seem to happy functioning members of society whilst the undersexed...well hey...they write blogs on a Sunday night...

Anyway, with this worldwide sexual prerogative it is important to note in the same vein that it pays to be careful where you throw your loins, affections and immune system.

Times are too unpredictable so as sexually responsible adults, I would encourage some discussion...however what should matter the most is your sexual practises history and not so much your sexual partner past...

Talking about ‘the number’ is one of those conversations where one might try to judge or make conclusions but really it can't tell you if your partner has a history of cheating or a clean bill of health...those things aren't guaranteed...whatever 'the number'... 

so hi, i'm TRR... lets talk about sex...

Date Five....The Mystery Man

Over the past couple of days things on the personal side have been pretty trying. With all the muddles I found myself in, it made great material for the blog but I’m resolute to respecting my own privacy… nary do I want to regret an entry… so here’s to sieving through the vast obstructions to unload on my blog…

An earlier post of mine explored the wonders of chemistry and attraction. In my ramblings, I swore by the instinctive click and feeling of kindred however another facet has emerged that has forced me to take a second look at my ‘laws of lust’… the element of mystery.

The scene is set: wonderfully handsome clever man meets awesome me and after several bouts of interaction, I conclude I’m really none the wiser to the 'real' him but certainly subject and weak to his wiles and charm. I don’t know him and yet…he’s constantly in my thoughts  :-/

We talk…quite frequently at that… but if the KGB picked me up hoping to squeeze info on him…I’d be useless and perhaps in shock at how poorly I know my ‘ever present thought dweller’…

Perhaps it’s the cloak and dagger mentality that keeps me piqued… this living spontaneity…this person in the shadows who makes everything more wonderfully contrived that it needs to be… but whilst I understand how a shrouded secretive nature may lure suitors, how sustainable is it being ‘the international man of mystery’…?

Fact is…it’s cute…(for a time). The not knowing, the guessing, the trying to fill in the blanks, wondering what exciting leads are contained in his/her past, the imaginative build up… but if the adage about expectations versus reality is true, then the centrifugal force that keeps us going round and round in a lust tizzy must certainly come to an end..(right?)

Still spinning and awaiting freedom…