A Quarter Life Crisis

After my last week of emotional turmoil I was ready to wipe the slate clean. And by clean I mean get rid of excess baggage weighing me down…in other words cut some of the strings on these going no where courtships.

Rounding up the usual suspects, Zack Morris, Trini Man, Jamerican, Jon B and Mr. Late Nite…deleted. This leaves room for a new line up for fall or to decide on my actual feelings for Pretty Skin. Are there feelings there...I’m not sure there are? At the end of the day he’s a nice guy but as we know nice guys finish last. And not for nothing being a nice guy doesn’t automatically enable you to set up residence on the island.

Nice guy = boring guy, the jury’s still out on this one????

Of late, I’ve been beating myself up about Pretty Skin. Despite his purple elephant he is what I say I’m looking for…mostly. Considering his elephant, the fact that he has a child is a molehill. And y’all know how I feel about men with children. His lack of a steady tax-paying job, while still wearing fly gear is a bit questionable; I will reserve my accusations for a later date, I saw rubber banded money stacks and had a flashback of younger dumber Faith. I live under the philosophy don’t ask questions whose answers you aren’t prepared for. In this case, if PS responded that he fell back on his ways of old…I’m not prepared to have that type of thing in my life. Been down that road before and don’t want to go back!

Outside of Pretty Skin’s annoying reference to me by male descriptors as in man (I think this is his favorite word) he hasn’t done anything that would suggest booting him off the island. Of course as the Best Friend has told me time and time again, you can’t create feelings where feelings don’t exist. Kissing this man is no more stimulating than writing a check…and mama hates paying bills. There’s no spark. Am I overlooking his sezy? Maybe I need to dig beneath the surface and underneath I’ll find a guy who likes to travel (outside of the neighborhood), enjoys art and all types of music, dabbles in philosophy, not afraid to voice his political opinion and enjoys a scary movie every once and again. That last part is ginormously important. The last two guys I took seriously refused to watch scary movies, punks!

Maybe it’s too soon for me to move on. Maybe I need to fester in the unresolved feelings that I have for the Spaniard.

Anywho, earlier in the month, Pretty Skin invited the chicas and I to his block party. For those out of the know Philadelphia in the summer is block party central. On any given weekend in the city there are probably at least 10-12 city approved and 20-25 unsanctioned block parties happening simultaneously. I was less than enthused but I’d agreed to swing by, a woman of my word. I drug Nurse Friend with me to “enjoy” the festivities.

It was decent for what it was. I expected to see a whole lot of tomf*ckery and hosh*t but the residents kept it to a minimum. Pretty Skin intro-ed me to some members of the family, cool. I met more of PS’ friends (one of which took a strong liking to Nurse Friend, she wasn’t feeling him but the other one was right up her alley…gotta figure out his marital situation) and saw a whole slew of chicks giving mad stank eye (o_0). I had to laugh at this. Chicas chicas chicas it really isn’t that serious if you want Pretty Skin he is yours for the taking, I lay no claim. While he is physically a sight to see I’m rarely swayed, talking potential boo, by a pretty face. I like to know there’s something under the hood worth inspecting.

Side note PS never introduced me to his daughter, I respect him for that even though she was there. No need for introductions when neither of us knows where this is going. And I sensed hella tense vibes when a certain chick of video hoe caliber strolled her way up to his family’s table. Sometimes you can just smell that two people have done the naked mambo, giving out awkward body no touch hugs, you feel me?

The best part of the day was when Pretty Skin’s auntie (I say auntie because she’s from the south) jumped up and started dancing in the middle of the street breaking nothing down but the air. In her mind, she was getting it but what stopped the record for me, Auntie flashing vajayjay…me no likey the vajayjay. By the time everyone started doing line dances a la electric slide I was at my limit.

My friends forewarned the Electric Slide and any of his bastard children are off limits at any function I hold.

Pretty Skin and I parted ways with a single kiss and a hug. Did I ever tell y’all that hugs make me uncomfortable? I always feel presume from the hugger to put some emotion into it and if I’m not digging you my body betrays the lies my face and tongue sometimes tell.

Again no true sparks…I want to fade to black no one else exists and I hear music playing when I kiss him…but I can’t make feeling exist where there are none. With the Future Ex Husband I used to hear this and with the Spaniard I heard this…everyone inspires his own song…I want that feeling back!

This could be a sign or I could be over analyzing, it’s one or the other!

In random news, I ended the night in pain…getting inked. On the inside of my left wrist sits the cutest little super detailed humming bird. How do I plan to explain this to CEO’s of fortune 500 companies…I don’t. My answer to them is simple and all the way ghettofab…stay in ya lane homie and watch ya neck also known as keep your mouth shut and mind your business.

Humming birds stand for peace, love and happiness. I need a large helping of all three. Tattoos are cathartic. When my Pop-Pop passed instead of dealing, I got inked and let the physical pain mask the emotional. Physical pain is easy (for me at least) it stings for a minute, maybe even an hour…emotional pain can last a lifetime. You judge it!

This past week has been relatively quiet and kind of boring on the dating front. I’m not mad at it though I need a chance to catch my breath and think some things through. Seriously I will dig into the details in a second.

It was a hellacious workweek for me. As we turn the corner on the end of this project I am suddenly worried about what and where my next assignment will be. This is normal consultant angst. After spending a quarter of the year out of the country it’s been lovely being stateside, hell it’s been fantabulous sleeping in my own bed. Hotel rooms are overrated, believe me even the real swanky ones with the raindrop glass enclosed showers overlooking the bedroom. I enjoyed some nights with the Spaniard once or twice I won’t tell a t-waddy (lie)!

Remind me that I’m not allowed to mention his name on the blog anymore. I ‘d appreciate a virtual slap the next time it occurs, mmkay!

Sometime in the middle of the week Virtual Java (VJ – he’s a lawyer and a solder booyah) sends me an e-mail. He was shooting the hashish, you know catching up on all things Faithtastic with sprinkles of the ins and outs of his life. I’ve always wondered how he looks in a suit. Random I know! I have these moments. It would make more sense to you if you knew although I worked with VJ for quite some time I’ve never actually seen him in person. It’s funny how friendship works.

Anywho I’ve always wanted to see VJ in action, not the soldier action because that would be a scosh on the dangerous side and might involve ruining a pair of my uck me pumps. We know that’s not going down! Maybe one day we’ll get that cup of java in the flesh especially since he can’t offer me any near the grave rich men to front my shoe habit. Shame on him! Even without the sugar daddy, it was nice to hear from Virtual Java. I smiled midday. That never happens!

In the land of gentleman callers, Pretty Skin blew up my phone all damn week. Clearly his lack of a job provides a little too much free time. In general I’m not a phone person. This is a byproduct of half my workday spent gabbing. Most of the conversations drain my chitchat for the uck of it-ness! I must give him the gold star for effort though. He makes sure to send little how you doing text messages throughout the day, you know just checking to see if I still have a pulse. PS would probably make a decent boyfriend minus his purple elephant if that’s what I was looking for, but it is the summer o’ men. Even with the small dry spell this week I mustn’t lose focus.

After playing phone tag, mostly me avoiding PS’ calls, I agreed to have date two, bowling on Sunday afternoon. As luck may have it Mother Nature, disrespectful tramp, blessed us with a storm by mid afternoon requiring a schedule adjustment to the coming weekend. He seemed genuinely disappointed but with whipping rain, falling trees and torrential winds I wasn’t risking my hair to the element. Before you ask, yes it’s like that! Me, Thunderstorm and that biotch Humidty aren’t on speaking terms.

Between my calls with PS I took one or two from Italian Stallion whose name is forever changed to Zack Morris (gold star and a cartwheel for you if you know what late 80’s- early 90’s tv show that comes from), a more appropriate fit. He’s nice in a date a dork kind of way, which isn’t inherently bad for me because I like nerds…insofar as they don’t look like nerds. Pocket protectors and suspenders are against my religion.

My issue, be prepared I’m about to say something racial. I don’t date white guys who’ve never dated black girls. I’m no one’s test run! Popping cherries t’aint my forte and I really don’t wanna have to explain my headscarf. A date might clear this air but so far I’ve skated around the notion of us sitting in front of a whole meal of food. I fear this dance won’t last long and right now he’s more out than in.

Jon B was incognegro for majority of the week. He sent a few feeler text messages and we had a couple two-minute phone calls, nothing like our hours long convos from weeks past. This wasn’t all his doing. His purple elephant wears bright neon tights and a yellow hat to match. The sideways ex chatter is a little much for me. I mean I looked at an old picture of he who must not be named this past week but I quickly regrouped and put on the strong face. Jon B needs to man up. If he wants his ex back, me tinks he does, call that trick and make it happen, otherwise toss up the deuces!

On Sunday JB called a little before 10PM asking if we could grab a drink. Hmm…based on the lack of enthusiasm in my voice I’m going with a strong no. And he so violated the don’t call me while True Blood is on rule. Hun-nay please! Noteworthy he shows up consistently every Sunday, I wonder what that’s about? He did say he really wants to see me…that sounds like one-eyed sailor speak to me. You judge it.