Tag Archives: Men

The Jumpoff Purge: Why 2016 Will Be Dateless

MM-jumpoffpurge11416 (1)Much like my winged eyeliner application, dating did not happen for me until it was way past being fashionable. There are acceptable behaviors one exhibits in the beginning. Dickstractions are common. Flawed decision skills are on display. Low standards are unfortunately at play often without you recognizing it because of aforementioned dickstractions. It’s ok. We’ve all been there. But at some point you wise up. Your standards become higher, your self-esteem soars, and you see your needs with perfect clarity.

It’s a peculiar realization to see that you have more dicks in your gallery after eighteen months of dating than happy experiences.

I literally have dick to show for it.

Not for lack of trying. I tried just about every venue (even reddit…shutup) just to see what was out there and funnily enough it was the same across the board. I’d hear the words, “I’d kill to have a girl like you,” followed by actions that proved they didn’t. For every, “I wish I had a smart woman in my life,” there was a dick pic to match. At some point I went from sad to jaded and succumbed to the pressure of the dating game. Might as well join them, right? But why? Being complimented or denigrated for the way you look eventually falters into meaninglessness when what you truly want is for someone to see you in complete, flawed totality.  I wanted more. I want more…but I just wasn’t getting it. How is a list of someone’s favorite movies going to prove someone’s long-term compatibility? How will favorite quotes prove if he can handle my demons? How can I tell if he’ll see everything I have to offer if all that he offers are memes and filters? I want more but I feel like modern dating has developed into a game where you accept less. Why?

Kissing all the boys leads to cooties and more bullshit.

When you’re a pudgy nerd in highschool (basically Tina Belcher), sex and physical intimacy are these romanticized, far off things. They seem exciting and beautiful and they can be. But so often we trade the time spent on pursuing someone worth it for low-hanging fruit. To be frank, fuckin’ ain’t hard.  It takes little to no effort to find, procure, and maintain bootycalls. Sexploration is fun and I encourage it if you’re going to do so safely but it’s not everything. We have to stop acting like in order to be relevant or happy or even successful we must run the “app race.” Every time I talk to friends it becomes less of a conversation about successful matches and more a party of commiseration. If it sucks so much why do we torture ourselves?

I’ve been asking myself that for the past year. Is it worth it to be tired, jaded, and burnt out for the chance of a few fun dates? Is it worth my time and energy to go through countless interactions that I hate in order to find a few good ones that might pan out? The romantic in me wants to believe so but the realist knows I need to take care of myself. I’m giving myself and yielding no returns. It’s easy to find an interested party but I also want someone who will challenge me. I want to grow with someone. Do you really need to have  your phone flooded with random numbers or do you just need one person who matters to call you? Do you want a shit ton of first dates or just quality ones?

When every conversation devolves into a, “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” situation it becomes more of a transaction than a relation.  I’m not looking for some noble Galahad to come and save me, I’d just like for someone to talk to me who isn’t blatantly staring at my chest or looking at his phone or calling his mom to tell her he met her future daughter-in-law…did I mention I’ve been on some bad dates?

Even though I came to the game late, I often wonder if I even showed up to the right one. Dating has changed drastically over the last five years. Like bad sex, it seems more aggressive, less focused, and based in mimicry. Instead of a quest to find the right one it’s become a f*ckfest for all the “ones” along the way. People care less about pursuing mature relationships but maintaining bachelorettehood into perpetuity.  How many people can you get? How much attention can you maintain? How many compliments can you leverage? How many hilariously bad dates can you go on? It’s flighty. Instead of buying into a person and committing to them we window shop. We walk from display to display, we try them on, we walk around the store with them, we test them out and when they no longer hold our attention we move on to the next one.  But you know how you shouldn’t go shopping on credit because you’ll spend what you don’t have? The same applies to dating. You can’t date on credit. You can’t give what you don’t have. 

That’s why this year is dedicated to a cutie named moi. Dating can be fun but it hasn’t been for a while. I love love so I often get lost in it. It’ll come around or I’ll find it when it’s time but for now I’d just like to enjoy being 25. I know what I want. Genuine connection. Conversation instead of gimmicks, understanding instead of histrionics, calm instead of calamity, plans instead of whims, commitment instead of emotional detachment. I know these things are not hard to find because I see them in so many  of my loved ones’ relationships. But I’m not going to force a timeline or drive myself crazy over it. I deleted every irrelevant out of my phone. I took down all my dating profiles. I’m sticking to my guns but  I’ll need y’all to hold me accountable because THE.THIRST.IS.REAL. When it gets rough, like tall, lumberjackesque ginger rough, I’ll remind myself of this year’s mantra:

So what about y’all? Are you taking a dating fast? Waiting? Or skipping in line? Let me know in the comments! As always, feel better, do better, and be better!



Content: Being Happy Where You Are


8:31 A.M September 28, 2011. I was officially 21. Time to celebrate! Right? No. Not today. I couldn’t stop crying. My mother was walking down the aisle at my age. What was wrong with me? 

Church didn’t help. Every week came with the announcement of a new engagement. If you listened carefully enough you could hear that slight twinge in the pastor’s voice. What’s wrong with the rest of y’all? 

I read book after book after book. “How to Keep a Man,” “Pray Til He Shows Up,” “Pray with One Eye Closed,” “Waiting” and the sequel “Waiting til Tonight,” “Your Dude is on the Way,” and “Girl, He Ain’t Here YET?!”

You name it, I read it. I bought into it. I devoured them like they were magic spells that once completed, my Prince would apparate to my side. I got plenty of frogs but my Prince never arrived. What’s wrong with me?

No worries, I’ll find you Mr. Nelson.

When I couldn’t find someone sexy and sanctified (pray for me y’all), no one my age and ready to commit, or anyone sane and alive,  I asked myself again and again…WHAT THE F*CK IS WRONG WITH ME?! 

As women we naturally have a thousand answers to that question. Too fat. Too skinny.  Too smart. Not smart enough. Too light. Too dark. Not pretty pretty enough. We’re either too much or not enough. So you want to know the truth? Something is wrong with you.

Oop. I’ll let that sit.

It’s nothing to do with your looks and everything to do with your feelings. What I’m telling you isn’t some secret only married women know. A lot of them don’t, some never will. Not everyone will get married. That’s just a fact loves. When you accept that reality you should feel at peace. Why? It means that Damoclesian expectation is off the table. No pressure. But for most of you, just like it was for me initially, you probably feel terrified. “I’ll be all alone!” No girl, you’ll be with yourself and the people who love you. What’s wrong with being with yourself? NOTHING. Unless you cannot stand the sight, thought, or idea of you. So to answer the question, you is what’s wrong with you.

A man will not fix you. A baby will not fix you. A marriage will not fix you. A friend with benefits will not fix you. Do you realize how ironic it is to need someone to spend time with you when you don’t like to spend time with yourself? How sad is it to need someone to esteem you when your own self can’t do it? I know I might sound harsh but the truth is often inflammatory. You need to hear this. Stop waiting for some cure for how you’re feeling to fall from the sky. Stop posting salty things on social media about how, “You’re happy to have your newsfeed flooded with engagements.” When what you really mean is, “Where’s mine?” Stop arresting your happiness and expecting someone else to set it free {Click it to tweet that truth}.  That’s your work and it’s irrational, irresponsible, and childish to expect anyone else to do it for you. Don’t make loving yourself anyone else’s job but your own. 


You need to rewrite your content so you can be content. Marriage isn’t easy. It’s not a wedding everyday. It’s two imperfect people who commit themselves to each other daily. It’s a beautiful thing to witness when it’s done right. But as a recovering wedding coordinator, it’s mind- numbingly tragic to watch an impending wreck. So many couples convince themselves that they’ll get better after the stress dies down, like life will never be stressful again. They force a smile when something in the back of their minds is whispering, “No.” They get caught up in the commotion and forget to acknowledge their emotions. They say “I do” to terrible communication, emotionally stunted, easily intimidated, angry princes and princesses with little to no shared experience. They make promises that they’ll always remain the same while literally changing the status of their relationship in front of God, their family, and friends. They say yes because they need someone else to accept them without thinking of doing the same for their partner.

But from the outside looking in, their Instagram pictures and their cute Facebook posts look darling. That’s because we filter out the bad and tell the story we want to be told, not the truth.

One of the saddest things I’ve witnessed happened when I was ten. As an Army Brat I was used to being around female spouses who wore a smile and an empty stare. They held down the fort at home with little to no recognition…or sometimes help. “Mrs. C” was that kind of woman. She was sweet but even as a child I could tell she was very sad. On the outside everything looked perfect. Her husband was a high ranking officer and they lived in one of the mini-mansions up in the hills of the post. She loved to babysit me and I loved her because she bought me chicken nuggets (don’t you judge me!). I was waiting for my mom to pick me up when her husband got home. He smiled curtly at me but his eyes threw daggers in his wife’s direction. They went to their room to “talk.” I’ll always remember her screaming,” I did everything for you!” and his response,” I never asked you to.”

I heard with a child’s mind but I’ve processed it differently as an adult. My dearest single ladies, the books, the prayers, the substanceless dates, the products, the clothes, all the things we do to find a man, we need to be doing to find ourselves.

Stop entertaining fools in your court, queens. No more dates with guys who can only remember your number after midnight. No more putting up with verbal and emotional abuse just so you can say you’re in a relationship. No more investing in someone’s dreams who can’t invest in yours. No more enthusiastic acceptance of scraps when you deserve to be sitting at the table. No more waiting for a prince to whisk you away to a cold, dank castle. Build your own kingdom. Write your own love story and start with uncovering, discovering, knowing, and loving YOU.

Thirst. Don't let it be you.
Thirst. Don’t let it be you.

What’s something you’ll have to rewrite to feel content? Let me know and as always, feel better, do better, be better!


Let It Go [but please don’t sing the song]


“Let’s imagineer a narrative.” ***

Wherever you are, try to grab as many things as possible with one of your hands. When it’s full, try to grab one more thing, were you able to hold it? Or was it overwhelmed with the task?

As a child, my mother would lovingly inquire why I held on to her so tightly. When she’d lay me down for a nap I would cling on to her neck for dear life, deathly afraid that she would let me go forever. I would grasp my dad’s hand so tightly he wondered if I was afraid or angry. Most teen sisters would be annoyed by the near constant presence of their loud baby sister. I became their proverbial cling wrap. I was so afraid of loosening my grip on people and of losing control.

Control that is...and Tom.
Control that is…and Tom.

As an adult, that constant need for emotional intimacy has translated into a string of bad relationships, both platonic and romantic, and all miasmic. If my life were a scrapbook, there’d be whole pages with trash adorned with stickers and glitter. As an Army brat, I’ve always had a difficult time letting go. I need people, things, and information to fill the void inside me. I’m not a bad judge of character, I’m just so extremely afraid of feeling the cold, stale air of that void on my skin, that I surround myself with irrelevant relationships, things, and distractions. That impulsive reasoning has come at a cost.

But times they are a changing. This time last year I couldn’t imagine my life without my soon to be boyfriend and one of my closest friends. As 2015 creeps nearer, those positions have been left vacant. At first, I did what I always do, grip tighter, hold on harder, and pray to God that I wouldn’t lose anyone. When that failed I tried to haphazardly find things and people to fill their place. I went on date after date, made out with guy after guy, and tried to forcibly convince myself that that was enough. It wasn’t.

Then the uncomfortable truths came up. That cold, stale air surrounded me and I realized that every detrimental thing I held onto had cost me something beneficial. Why? Seeds can’t take root in poor soil. Flowers can’t bloom in a garden overrun with weeds. Let go of the bad so you can embrace the good. My self-esteem, self-worth, goals, drive, all got put on the chopping block because baby girl was dickstruck, heartbroken, and afraid to be alone.

You heard me Latrice.
You heard me Latrice.

But now that more time has passed, I realize that my fear of being alone kept me from learning how to be comfortable with myself.  The internal problems I was and am struggling with cannot be resolved with external solutions. It isn’t the fact that I had a defunct relationship but the fact that I attracted, sought out, and pursued one. I needed it because it made me feel whole. But the only person responsible for my fulfillment is me. I can’t expect people to love me the way I need to be loved if I don’t set the precedent by demonstrating that to myself first.

I’ve spent my whole life searching for the missing piece in trivial, superficial things. I’ve invested in shitty relationships, my closet, my whims, but rarely have I invested in myself. By refusing steadfastly to let go of bullshit I’ve gathered, my collection has evolved into full on fuckshit. Anxiety, insecurity, perfectionism, dwindling self-esteem, fragile self-image, and a knack for lowering my standards for anyone who pays me the slightest attention. That shit ain’t cute. 

Clearly I love Latrice
Clearly Latrice is bae.

So how does one let go? It was much easier than I thought. You just:

1) Recognize your grasp

2) Identify the contents

3) Sort it out

4) Let it go

I’ve followed this for the past month and have cleared out a lot of bull. I went through my phone and deleted guys I knew there was no future with, the friends who I always contact and never seem able to contact me, and the people I haven’t seen or heard from in years. I cleaned out my email, my social media, my car, computer, and I’m about to start my closet. All the while I felt my mojo return, my confidence shoot through the roof, and my focus re-align on my goals and vision. It wasn’t easy but it was definitely worth it. The simplest solutions are often the most difficult decisions you can make, but you have to let go of the things that are holding you back if you’re ever going to moved forward in your life.

What are you holding onto? What are you ready to let go of?



***Watch The Thick of It. Malcolm Tucker’s reads are Drag U worthy.