Pity Post

If I am being honest, I don’t know where this post is headed or why I am even writing it. I felt I needed to write in hopes that it will help me out of this place I am in. It’s a place I can’t quite describe or understand. The only word I can think of is stuck. 

My emotions are all over the place. Last night I watched Cheaper by the Dozen 2 with my sons, and I had to force myself to hold back tears at various parts of the movie. It isn’t even a sappy film! In addition to being emotional I keep wondering what happened to my happily ever after. I am at a point in my life now that finds me longing for marriage and even another baby. I was hellbent on not having more children, but now a part of me desires that. I love love with every fiber of my being and want nothing more than to be totally free to give it away, but it seems the word lovelorn had been affixed to my forehead. I’m knocking on Heaven’s door all like, “Um, excuse me. Where is the man from whose rib I was created? I’ve been single since 2006. Can a sistah finally get partnered up? Are those my angels over there playing Russian Roulette with my heart?!”

Then there is my career, or lack thereof. If I had my way I would be writing a column for a women’s magazine and owning clothing, house wares, and fitness boutiques. I don’t want to have to work for anyone else anymore. I want the freedom that comes with entrepreneurship and to be able to travel the world. Corporate America can suck the life out of you. I feel like a robot. Always the same shit just different days. What am I really working for other than to pay bills? 

I keep telling myself to vibrate higher, but sometimes I just don’t want to. I’m giving myself a few days to wallow in this emotional state, and then I will force myself to put on my big girl panties and just deal. At times like this I wish I was a weed smoker.

Share Me With Me

I’ve been cheated on in every relationship I have been in. Admittedly, this has made me a bit apprehensive with regard to relationships. Once bitten twice shy I suppose.

When I was younger I would dwell on the hurts of being cheated on for months. I was trying to figure out why I wasn’t enough or what I could have done differently. After compiling lists upon list of “maybe ifs” I could never come up with answers that would have left me feeling whole.

As I have gotten older I just try to walk away from the hurt having gained more wisdom. I no longer participate in the “maybe if” torture. I apply the question, “Is it working?” very ruthlessly to my life. If the answer is no, then I almost instantly cut the thing or person out of my life with no qualms. I am a bit of a minimalist in all areas, but even more so when it comes to mental clutter and emotional energies. I don’t give people very many opportunities to waste the goodness of me.

I am aware that this makes me come across as an Ice Queen to some, but I feel my love and time are things to be earned and respected. I don’t try to change myself in order to keep a man. If he feels the need to cheat, then his purpose in my life has been fulfilled, and his time in it expired. I know my worth, so I no longer wallow in shoulda, coulda, woulda mental anguishes. I’ve no problem with starting over in this love thing as many times as it takes to get it right. I know that I am a delight and treasure to be cherished because I am a giver of life and a Pandora’s Box of sorts full of much wonderment and amazement, a ceaseless mystery and oxymoron of a woman that carries her own weight and willing to help her man reach his highest potential all while keeping it classy, cool, sensual, and free.

Would I love to share the Queendom that I am building with another? Of course! But I refuse to settle for a man that treats me as anything less than the beautiful, rare, and simultaneously free spirited and logical gem of a woman I am. In the words of Eartha Kitt, “I fall in love with myself, and I want someone to share it with me. I want someone to share me with me.”

This video sums up what I am trying to convey here perfectly.

 

 

The Babysitters

 

More oft than not, they are passionate yet gentle and highly skilled lovers that seem to just know their ways around women’s bodies as if they created women themselves. These men exercise a most precise balance of asserting authority and submitting to their women’s desires. It’s hard to emotionally rid yourself of them once the relationships end because they never really do anything that warrant hatred or bitterness.

While they make women feel like beloved Queens they never fully emotionally commit to relationships. These gentle lovers harbor a simultaneous adoration and deep disdain for women. I imagine this to be a most complicated dichotomy. Loving them present challenges for the romantically involved women that truly want to love and support them. Companionship and genuine love is what these men profess to want almost more than anything else, but they seem to always thwart and sabotage receiving such.

The two things all these men seem to have in common are horny inappropriate ex-babysitters and emotionally negligent mothers. In most cases, these men were “broken in” or molested sexually by young babysitters that had been given charge over them. There is much debate and research surrounding the psychological development of females that have been molested and males that have been molested by other males, but what about the little boys that were molested by females that most times were not much older than them? Do they grow up seeking love via sex? Is this what makes them compliant lovers? I know many men would never complain about having had a babysitter that came on them, just like most men would secretly applaud their sons for having smashed a high school teacher, but what makes this okay?

Then there is the role of the emotionally unavailable mother. Does having such a mother breed emotional insecurity? Does it prevent them from fully opening up? Does the general distrust of women come from the babysitters or is the distrust really feelings of having not been validated in disguise? I don’t have the answers, just all the questions. I do know these kinds of men bring out women’s nurturing maternal instinct because they are so sweet and adorable, but loving them is a bit challenging because you can sense that they never fully allow ingress to the secret places of their emotions.

The Attractive Couple Plight

Do I think I’m pretty? Yes. Do I think I’m beautiful? I believe I have a beauty that isn’t an outward beauty; I think I inhabit a beautiful spirit. Do I need the validation from men to affirm my beauty? No. I don’t need that from every man, but I do want that from my man.

I remember being pregnant, hormonal, and sitting on the carpeted portion of the bathroom floor in the home I shared with my now ex-husband. I had had a really bad day, and I was sitting there crying my eyes out. I cried not because I was just having a bad day. I cried because I knew in my heart of hearts I was married to a man that didn’t want to be with me, a man that didn’t like me.

We had been together since I was 16. Initially there was something about him that I just did not like. I didn’t know what it was. He was incredibly attractive: 6’3, medium brown skin, beautiful dimples that made me melt every time he smiled, and he always made me laugh. Women loved him. Men wanted to be like him. Children adored him. I would say we were equals in that regard. Men loved me. Women wanted to be like me, and I never met a child that didn’t want to either play in my hair or sit in my lap.

 People always commented on how good we looked together and how handsome our oldest son was. His entire family instantly took to me, and he didn’t have one friend that didn’t like me. I think that is what bothered him. I owned whatever room I walked into by simply being myself. I have never lacked confidence because I was raised that way and am genuinely a happy person. I’m not arrogant, but I am sure of myself, and on those rare occasions that I am not I fake it until I make it.

Having been with him for almost 10 years, I knew he harbored a sense of insecurity, but I don’t know where it came from. He was accustomed to women throwing themselves at him and giving him whatever he wanted. I was never that way with him. I challenged him to be a better person, to be real with himself. I am a believer of equality and operating under the law of reciprocity. Looks aren’t enough for me. I always felt as though he was in competition with me, which to this day still baffles me. I was his partner. I wanted him, me, and US to succeed in life. I helped him with his résumé, job evaluations, and anything else he needed.

That night was the first and last time he ever called me pretty. He’s never deemed me beautiful. We sat on that floor and talked for about an hour. His last line to me was, “You’re very pretty. I never pictured myself being with a woman like you, though. I always pictured myself being with a model chick. Not you.” His compliments were always low-key insults and somehow seemed to insinuate that I might be cheating on him because so many men hit on me.

I would be lying if I said those words didn’t make me feel some kind of way at the time as well as shot a blow to my self esteem, especially while I was pregnant. I said all that to say I don’t understand why men go after women that are widely pursued only to be in a secret competition with them when 9 times out of 10 the only compliments that matter to her are the ones that come from her man’s mouth. Of all the compliments I receive in a day, the only ones that make my heart sing are the ones that come from my sons and the man I love. I don’t know. Do extremely attractive men suffer from the lowest self esteem, or are they just spoiled and “rebel” against the women that don’t fall at their feet?

His Ether

He has me feeling like love

Like something otherworldly

The cipher of my body decoded 

Now I need him in my cypher

His love

I did swallow and coat it

No choking

Just yoking

Butterfly stroking and soul soaking

I did

 

I did

I did partake of his Indian Poke

But I didn’t choke

Just call me Koch

Like a Native

I separated the poison from sedative

Created my own anesthetic

From his ether

He’s a keeper

I a leader

So I was gifted

With The Crown

Your Truths

Lately more and more I keep finding myself wanting to live more of an earthy bohemian-like lifestyle mixed with a bit of luxe. Minimalist, quiet, lots of travel, and delectable earthy sensual pleasures. These are the things I dreamed of as a teenager. I was never one to fantasize about a wedding or huge house filled with lots of children and a loving husband. I dreamed of being a business woman that was free to move about on a whim. This recollection of my past dreams has lead to my doing lots of introspecting and getting to the heart of what I really want and what MY truths are as opposed to what I have been taught to believe, want, and need. 

Q’s Truth Number 1 - I don’t want a traditional house with a yard and a dog. I want a loft, high-rise, or condo. A traditional house is too much of a commitment for me. I felt I should raise my boys in a house because, well, that’s the way it’s supposed to be done. I now realize that as long as your dwelling place is filled with love, understanding, calmness, and lots of food the children will be happy. I am not one of those mothers that wants my children to live with me forever, and I don’t intend to sign up to babysit my grandchildren every weekend. 

Q’s Truth Number 2 – I don’t want to get married. People are constantly asking when I will re-marry. Even my youngest son wants me to be married. I have dated many amazing men, but in my heart of hearts I don’t want to be married. That might change later, but for now I don’t want that. I love having options and the leisure of dealing with a man when I feel like it and on my terms. There is nothing quite like the ability to pick and choose who you want to spend your time with. If I am not in the mood to deal with a particular man’s flavor of personality, then I don’t have to. Every person brings something different to the table. If I want to chill, then I can call guy #1. If I want great conversation, I can call guy #2. If I just want a male’s opinion I can call a male without fear of my man becoming jealous. If I want to be pampered, then I can call just about any man. You get my drift. I get bored quickly and am very selfish with my time, so I need variety and understanding men that respect the fact that I require a lot of alone time.

Q’s Truth Number 3 – I don’t want more children. One of the first things most men ask me is whether or not I can bear more children. Yes, I can, but I don’t want anymore. I am constantly hit with the, “but what if you meet an amazing man that is perfect for you but he wants you to have his baby?” speech. At this point in my life, I would just have to let him pass me by because my answer is no. As with number 1, maybe this will change, but no time soon.

Q’s Truth Number 4 – I am not a traditional mother. My goal is to raise children that become adults that are self sufficient and can think for themselves. I encourage my sons to set trends, not follow them simply to fit in, and to blaze their own trails in life. This makes me a bit more of a laid back mild mannered mother. I rarely ever raise my voice at my boys and treat them with respect. For example, if I tell one of them to take out the trash I would say, “Kailon/Kambren, take the trash out, please. Thank you.” I say thank you before they do it as a way of letting them know I expect you to do it right now. I don’t order them around unless it’s bath time. Boys hate taking baths until they discover girls. I am a stickler for neat appearances, and at times it pains me to watch my 13 year old’s sense of fashion play out before my very eyes. I will make suggestions, and, unless he is wearing something totally ridiculous, I just roll with it and let him express himself via his attire. My only rules are no clothes with skulls and cross bones, because I don’t want reminders of death on my children’s bodies, and no sagging pants. Other than that, most things are fair game. I also encourage them to flow in what they are naturally good at. Kailon loves art, fashion, music, and photography. He’s not athletic. Even though he’s taller than me with a lanky frame I don’t push him to play basketball. Kambren is into anything sports related: wresting, karate, football, etc. I don’t try to get him to paint a portrait or play an instrument. I believe what you are naturally good at is what you should be doing in life. 

What are some of your truths?

Irons in the Fire

“And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.” - Anaïs Nin

That is one of my most favorite quotes by Ms. Nin, and it perfectly describes where I am in life at the moment. I am somewhat private and hush-hush when it comes to sharing my goals and aspirations with people other than the ones I am intimately acquainted with, mainly my mother and sister. I do this because, of course, I believe in the power of words and don’t want others speaking against my plans and praying/plotting against me. There are some pretty wicked people out there. I also do this because if I fail, I can quietly get to work on Plans B through Z without being publicly humiliated. I am preparing to feel naked in 5,4,3,2…

My sorta tame curls blowing in the wind

I entered a natural hair/modeling competition. I initially only wanted to enter the hair portion which was not a competition, just for the exposure and experience, but it required I be a size 6. Um, yeah…I am double that plus 2. I was going to leave, but two of the lovely women hosting the event talked me into staying and signing up for the full figured segment. I met so many amazing women! What lead me to even considering this whole ordeal in the first place was the fact that in one week I was told by three different people (one was a random older foreign man in the grocery store) that I have the strut of a model. I took that as a sign to stop procrastinating, cast my line, and do the damn thing. Whatever happens, happens. I am enjoying the beautiful journey. Pray favor for me guys and maybe even a modeling/spokesperson contract! I have two boys to feed. We all know boys eat ALL day long. LOL

My wild curls

I love to dance. I dance and sound like a White girl from The Valley, but I love to dance no less. I am great at choreographed dances and learn them quickly, and I have also been doing liturgical dance since I was about 15 years old. I needed to work out and get in shape, but between work and my sons I never had the time. I started doing strength training in my office on my lunch breaks. I did mainly squats and lunges because they work the bigger muscles thus burning more calories. I figured I may as well get more bang for my buck and tone my booty in the process. I have been interested in Zumba but none of the classes ever fit my schedule, so me, being the overachiever I sometimes am, decided I would get certified and teach myself on my time. Well, word got out that I am a certified instructor. Long story short, I will begin teaching Zumba on my birthday, September 21. I am hoping for much success and a loyal customer base, and lots of booty popping, hip shaking, and shoulder shimmying ratchet fitness fun. I want the women in my class to feel like strippers and have fun! A friend of mine said he was going to make me some ‘Undercover Ratchet’ shirts because my outer appearance is so…not ratchet.

The last new thing I am checking off my list is spoken word poetry. I have a friend that owns a restaurant and is looking to diversify her clientele and thus is now hosting an open mic affair every Friday night from 10pm to 2am. She asked me to help kick things off September 28th. This will be the first time I ever read my work aloud. I don’t know how I feel about all this just yet.

Needless to say I have been one busy bee. If you are in Houston the weekend of December 7-8, stop by the reliant and holler at ya girl! If you live in Houston and want to join my Zumba classes or want to witness me bless the mic for the first time just let me know and I will get you the info. I appreciate you, babes and gents. You may reach me via email at duchessqui@gmail.com. What irons do YOU have in the fire?

I do not own the image of Teena Marie, but I do love her music. I can listen to “Portuguese Love” endlessly while imagining being on an island at dusk with a rugged masculine man that has one hand around my waist as his other puffing on a Cuban cigar. The wind fondling my hair and carrying the scent of his Hennessey laced skin. Euphoria…