He Said He Doesn't Believe in SoulMates

This past weekend was mad eventful. Like, I actually left the house more than once and I couldn’t be prouder of myself.  Let’s be real-- as much as I look forward to the end of the week, sometimes by the time it arrives, I am OVER IT and just want to stay my ass at home, braless and free, ordering food I have no business eating-- (in my mind, if you order through seamless, those calories don’t count against you) and binging my favorite shows. This time around, I was feeling unusually social, and my girls and I had already planned to see Girls Trip (which was HILARIOUS, btw—go see it if you haven’t already) on Friday, followed by dinner and drinks. The outing put me in an amazing mood and inspired me to be kinda mixy for the rest of the weekend, so the next day, me and my friends went to a  Jerk BBQ bashment on a Brooklyn rooftop. For my non- Caribbean massive, that basically means, Issa vibe--, plenty whining up of waists, BYOB, great music, great food, and great company.

Take a look.

I went with my line sister, her twin sister, and my best male friend--who also happens to be my neighbor-- ended up coming after he got off work.  We partied with our Howard University family until late in the evening, where us closer to 30 folk decided to make our way home. (We need our sleep).  Best Friend had to work in the morning anyway, so we hopped in his whip and made our way home. More often than not, when he and I go out and he drops me home, we have these deep conversations about life before we part ways.  This time was no different. Still on the edge of tipsiness, and in between bites of the most amazing slice of pizza I’ve had in a long time, we started talking about my favorite topics-- relationships. 10 minutes in, he dropped a bomb on me.

“I don’t believe in soul mates.”



“Well, why the hell not?,” I asked as I wiped the tomato sauce off my chin.

And what he said next, blew my mind— "You can develop connections with many people throughout the course of your life. Doesn’t mean that they are “the one.” There could be multiple people that you have a deeper level relationship with.”

I couldn’t wrap my mind around it. While I comprehend the notion of meeting, engaging and loving many people in a lifetime —after all, there are BILLIONS of people on the planet—Jeez Louise,  that sounds EXHAUSTING. Who wants to do that?

Best Friend continued: If you think about it in that sense, you’ll feel less pressure. Especially after you break up with someone, even though it might not feel like it at the moment, you’ll find another one who suits you.

Also, it should be noted that BF is in a committed relationship with someone that I met and like. They complement each other, are doing well, and as far as I know have a strong and loving partnership.

But I had to unpack what he said. Y’all know that I can be a hopeless, head over heels, hand to forehead, romantic, but I also—and forgive the pretentiousness of this next statement--- don’t like a lot of people. (Very particular and sensitive to folks' energies.) And while I know that Disney isn’t real, I’ve always been enamored with the “true love conquers all, One True Love,” that we’ve been fed. Take my favorite Disney Princess for example. In 90 minutes, sis Ariel fell in love with, traded her voice to a SEA WITCH and grew a whole entire pair of legs to be with her man.


Even with Cinderella, ol boy found his way through his entire town looking for baby girl to fit this custom shoe.  And I realize that love isn’t always that magical. Or if we’re being honest,--that one sided. In real life, Prince Charming would have absolutely found another foot to fit the shoe, and Ariel might have not been down for the long distance relationship. In real life, love is hard, frustrating, liberating, amazing, beautiful and all of the above.  But here I was, sitting in his car, in my entire feelings that Charming could dare give “Cindy’s custom footwear to some other chick!”

By Best Friend’s logic, though, I realized that, that’s not “her” shoe. It just happened to fit, and there will be others that wear the same size.


And I guess that makes sense, but I would be lying if I said the Hopeless Romantic in me struggles to accept that.

What do y’all think? Is there such a thing as a Soul Mate?

Do you think that there’s just one person that is “for you?”  

Even deeper – can you “miss” that person? We love to recite the saying that “what’s for you is for you,” but then… is that how people end up alone? Should I be concerned? 

I'm joking, obviously. 

... but, for real

Fix it, Black Jesus.

Would love to hear from y’all.

Join the conversation.


Diary of a CommitmentPhobe

My face when y'all was on that foolishness. 

My face when y'all was on that foolishness. 

February is always my favorite month of the year.  Between Black History realness, and it being the shortest distance between my paychecks, the second month, is particularly lit. The icing on the cake? The quintessential Designated Day of Love, or as y’all call it, Valentine’s Day, which also happens to be my favorite Holiday--- falls in the middle of the month and brings about an upsurge of positive energy that makes one feel… all warm and fuzzy.  I’ll say though, that I was particularly dumbfounded, that some of y’all Bitter Betty’s, (shoutout to @karmajonez for that term) legit tried to ruin it for the rest of us. From the rants about its capitalistic roots (name a holiday that exists without capitalism) and the tired ass complaint of, ‘you don’t need one day to tell someone you love them,’ which--- duh,  I was overwhelmed by the pseudo woke-ness surrounding an otherwise charming and delightful holiday. Y’all ain’t got jobs?  I mean, with Orange Tyranny and his Minions ruling the free world, we need all the love we can get.

You’re probably thinking, “why is she talking about Valentine’s Day in March?” There’s a point—I promise.

So, last night, as my favorite month came to a close and I found myself pondering why people would spend their time and energy ridiculing those who chose to celebrate with their significant other, family’s or with their single Black self, I also thought about my Valentines of years past. My best one?  

Sophomore year in college, I had a bae. And by bae, it probably meant that we studied in each other’s rooms, dry humped till one of us got tired, and perhaps shared some waffle fries and bomb ass lemonade from the Chick Fil-A in the Campus PunchOut. Short version, Sophomore Bae saw that I had just gotten a Juicy bracelet for my birthday, (I’m aging myself), and I was consistently babbling about what I wanted my first charm to be.  Well, four months later, Valentine’s Day rolls around, and I come back to my room from a full day of classes, to a note attached to my door saying, that my ‘Secret Valentine’ was sending me on a scavenger hunt around my dorm for my gift.

He even got his boys in on it, giving them handwritten clues to give to me, while myself and my two besties at the time giggled like idiots running up and down Meridian Hill Hall.

It was cute. The hunt ended at his room but, before he gave me the gift, he sat me down and sternly told me that he wanted me to know that he wasn’t ready to be in a relationship. He wanted to, and I quote, “play the field.” Excited, I brushed it off, eagerly waiting for my present. He handed me the small box—in it held the exact charm I wanted.  I squealed in delight. 

The next day when it the excitement wore off, I found myself staring at the bracelet with its new addition, questioning why I even accepted the charm. I called him to my room, (probably on my pink Motorola Razr) and gave it back, even though I’m almost positive he bought it with part of his student loan refund check. He. Was. Pissed.

My 19-year-old reasoning? If I can’t have it the way I want it, I don’t want it. And I wanted him. The commitment.

Fast forward, almost a decade later, I'm a little wiser, and probably a little wider (ahem), and one of the many recognizable changes that I've undergone, due to the the various relationships and courtships that I've experienced, is that I've become somewhat of a CommitmentPhobe.  There, I said it. Particularly and primarily, and especially when it comes anything that I can’t control. Which means—you guessed it. The Mens and 'nem.

 This is important for a few reasons:

We’ve all been hurt. Some have been devastated, (I’ll get into that at a later date), but I  came to understand that it's the reason why I deal with men in the manner that I do. Why my sometimes stoic demeanor can be translated into apathy. How my excitement for meeting someone new, quickly fades when I begin to become annoyed by their quirks and antics. Why my (sometimes) erratic thought process surrounding male behavior leads me to the swift delete and block ministry in my contacts. Why when they lay it on thick, I RUN. 

Unlike going to the gym and eating well, for example, which pretty much guarantees that I’ll get out what I put in, (a moderately snatched waist and #GracesBodyGoals) the fear of giving and not getting, is paralyzing.

In fact, I’d surmise that many of us have this same or similar issue, based on the conversations I’ve had on the Interwebs with my fellow twenty- somethings. That the vulnerability, or lacktherof rather, makes it nearly impossible to form romantic relationships with one another. A few months ago, I was chatting with a good friend of mine and he told me something simple, but profound. “Be committed to the process, but completely unattached to the outcome.”

Some of us are so addicted to the end result— the relationship, not getting played, etc. that we don’t enjoy the process therein. As a result, it causes us to give up and walk away without giving the moment an authentic effort.  While I agree that you should cancel anything that is stealing joy or doesn’t sit right with your spirit, I’d also propose that discernment be a regular tool in your arsenal, to know what (read: who) is worth committing to, and what’s not.

If Sophomore Bae taught me one thing, it's that commitment--while not all black and white, requires above all, a made up mind.  Ain’t no half steppin. You’re either in, or you’re out.
Choose wisely. Me? I'm working on it.

Don't Block Your Blessing...Or Nah?

Here we are at the end of the year. Whew! For many of us, 2016 was a doozy, honey

it took Prince and damn Willy Wonka smooth out. Mercury seemed to always be in retrograde,  there was apparently a New Member Intake into Petty Phi Petty Inc., and The Angry Cheeto was unfortunately elected the next Commander In Chief.  On a more personal level, three friends of mine passed away and it hit me harder than I could have ever expected. 2016 was akin to that drunk uncle that shows up to family events, talking reckless and starting drama-- making everyone super uncomfortable. You’ve been told repeatedly to just ignore him, while Granny threatens to hold the good part of the cornbread hostage if he keeps acting like a damn idiot.  

To top it all off, my love life was super, sucky. By July, I had had enough of the Series of Unfortunate Dates, and took it upon myself to go into seclusion. To give myself a Date Break-- so to speak, and redirect my focus to my personal growth among other things.

It was such a liberating decision and one that I desperately needed to make.  I had begun to hit the gym harder, bypassing jars of Talenti in exchange for carrots, (a big deal, by the way) my hair was growing, #locnation, my skin was glowing, #melanin, #coconutoilandtings, and I truly felt like things were finally on the upswing. Overall, I found myself happier and in a much better space.

They say that you attract what you put out, right?

So, less than three weeks into my #GracePeriod (see what I did there?) I met someone who shot his shot in my DM’s after we’d both made comments on a mutual friend’s post. We began chit chatting, and getting to know each other. I thought he was handsome, had a great personality and was overall an extremely interesting person. We clicked.
Be that as it may, something in me just didn’t feel ready to take the plunge.

*Enter, well-meaning girlfriends.* Also known as the Don’t Block Your Blessing Crew.

DBYB Crew: God done sent you a good man, who puts your needs first, is super sweet to you, and seems like he wants to commit. Girl, you better not block your blessing.



Now, I love my girlfriends. I do. But I was terribly confused. Granted-- I did tell them how great of a guy he was. But I also placed just as much emphasis, if not more, on the fact that my Date Break had just started and I wasn’t necessarily willing to sell myself short by jumping into something before I was ready, just because I presented with a viable enough option.

Their responses/suggestions though, seemed to sidestep my thought process, dismissing it only as self-sabotage and putting it second to the idea that I could have possibly found my “happily ever after.” *Insert deep eye roll*

 Against my better judgement, I decided to date him, and at first it was going well, but my greater sense eventually kicked in and it ended up being only something slightly short of a disaster. He was amazing, but I was hesitant. Needless to say, it didn’t work.

Thankfully we were able to salvage our friendship by having that, “this is where I am in life,” conversation that I should have had in the first place, but it surprised me how many of my good and dear well-meaning friends seem to ignore my need to be with myself, almost filing it under some kind of life crisis instead of a true feeling.

I’m all for a great romance and partnership when the time is right, but women are routinely questioned when they make a decision that seems to be against the norm, while men never get that push-back. It’s accepted as law that a man has to be “ready” first.  Have we become that socialized in this endless search for male companionship that we’d be willing to sacrifice a personal journey for the sake of a good man coming along? Why do we continue to perpetuate the narrative that our identities are almost completely rooted in finding a partner?

As if a few months of two-stepping to Drake in my underwear with glasses of Prosecco, and not worrying about anyone else isn’t a thing that I needed.  Tuh.

Will Great Guy be there when I’m ready to try again? Who knows. When I come out of this, will I even want to date him again?  It could go either way.

If the, DBYB Crew had it their way, I’d be with child and planning a wedding.

Be clear: A good thing at the wrong time, is still the wrong thing, and that is something that I firmly stand by.  Who’s to say that a blessing won’t end up being a curse if you’re not in a position to receive it?

As we head into the Year of Our Lord 2017, I learned to respect my greatest know it all well-meaning girlfriend I have—my intuition (Hey girl, hey!) To be fair, she’ll also tell me when I’m trippin—but she knows me better than anyone else and I have to honor that.

Ultimately, I am looking forward to what love (both external and internal) and life have to bring in the New Year, and I am optimistic.

Oh, and, 2017-- don't you come in here with that bullshit. We're gon' have a good year, ya hear?


Love, Peace and Grace.



He Said Black Women Don't Submit

This past weekend, I had to have yet ANOTHER conversation/debate regarding the tired ass notion that (some) Black men still seem to have about Black (specifically American born) women... The idea is that, they do want to date/marry us, but are less likely to, because we don’t know how to, “submit.”

*deep sigh*

Furthermore, the general perception is that our counterparts-- women of a different cultural/ethnic background, would be more willing/likely to do so.

The line of reasoning is that women of other cultures, both U.S. born and foreign, tend to stick more closely to traditional roles, while mostly only Black women born and raised outside of this country Ie; Africa and the Caribbean, possess these qualities.

*Angela Rye eye roll*


I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. First things first-- If a particular man doesn't have shit to submit to, why on earth would a woman make the effort to do so? No, I’m not just talking about money or individual finances.  If he hasn’t proven his leadership and ability to make sound decisions, her ‘submissiveness’ would actually be plain old, home grown stupidity.

Additionally, since most of these discussions center around a religious and social ideology, let’s take it a step further. Submission, according to the Good Book that some of y’all ain’t read since it came out, says that this practice is for none other than WIVES to their HUSBANDS. (And for spouses to submit to each other, but no one wants to talk about that part-- I digress.) 

Not her male acquaintance. Not a man she’s dating or the father of her child(ren). Not her cut buddy. Not Tee-Tee from down the street. Not the gentleman who purchased all of her Cîroc Coconut and cranberries last week at the day party, and certainly not her boyfriend, or fiancée.

Not na’n one of them.

Even if a woman is not the religious type, or doesn’t closely align herself with “traditional’ gender roles, she may still recognize or even value the idea of having her man be the proverbial head of household. There's a dynamic in it-- a balance if you will.

“How will I know if she can submit if she doesn’t while we’re dating?”, asks Black Boyfriend.

Thank you for your question. 

Put it like this: You’d like to illustrate your ability to be her husband so you do certain things—court her, be consistent and act like you have sense. You’re NOT her husband so you don’t do everything that a husband does. If she wants to be a wife, she can illustrate that same thing in different ways—preparing some meals, ( I prefer the idea of cooking together) and keeping HER home presentable, (not cleaning yours like she lives there or she's The Help) for example. 

But until she is actually married, performing wife duties is asinine. It’s akin to doing the work of the President but receiving the job title and salary of the Secretary. Some ladies are really falling for the okie doke.  Ever wondered what happened to the cow that gave away all her milk during binge watching weekends of Power? She still might be waiting to be bought.

Exhibit A

Exhibit A

The same goes with the submission concept. As my significant other, I will absolutely take your opinion into consideration, and show you the utmost respect, but when will I start to think about deferring to you?

*cues ups music, warms up glutes, in preparation for entire choreography routine for Exhibit A* ---> 

Oh, you don’t need me to do that?


*puts away leotard*

My point is, the idea that Black, American women don’t know how to, or refuse to allow their men to take some form of leadership (in the traditional or non traditional sense), is a broad and somewhat insulting generalization that is rooted in harmful stereotypes.  In the conversations I’ve had with some black men,  historical context is often ignored, Ie; Angry Black Woman, Mammy, Matriarch and Jezebel, and dismissed under the guise of “preference." When in reality what it sometimes seems like is that when a non-Black woman argues with you, it’s normal—If a Black woman does, it’s angry and non-submissive.

Additionally, I'd surmise that the so called validity in that stance rests less on actual experience, more on one sided stories that have been skewed in perception and MOST to do with fragile ass ego.

Exhibit B

Exhibit B

It also it leads me to believe that some of y’all don’t even know what the submission dynamic IS… (Hint—it’s not when someone just goes along with whatever you say) –Oh the irony in Exhibit B is truly scrumptious.

But, I digress.

I will say at this:

Ladies, if you don’t trust his judgement—obviously these things take some time-- then you shouldn’t be with him. It’s as simple as that. He can’t be a good leader/partner in your potential future home and nuptials if you’re always questioning his decisions. Find yourself someone who you believe is of sound mind, and has proven that to you.

The myth that Black women won’t follow a true, good man’s lead is unintelligible, hurtful and harmful at best and it's about time that it be dismantled. And ladies, don’t let Tee-Tee and ‘nem tell you any different.