Black Girl. Blue
Wednesday, July 27, 2011 at 8:09PM
It was purchased too soon.
Maybe it was on sale: An offer that couldn't be refused.
Or, perhaps, it looked so good that it just couldn't be passed over.
Fresh meat. Grade A. Thick cut.
So, you brought it home before you were ready.
And, while it was still cool (having been kept in the refrigerator), as the days passed, you knew that it was only a matter of time before it spoiled.
So, you put me on ice.
Sunday, June 26, 2011 at 8:46PM 
He likes to be tied down.
I'm not talking about his desire to be monogamous: I'm talking about his desire to be handcuffed.
Actually, I don't know this for sure-he actually may prefer to dominate-but what I do know is that the man that I am/was dating* has a bed that is girded with an under-the-bed restraint system that includes a, "set of tethers and kitten-soft cuffs."
Monday, April 25, 2011 at 12:37PM The bubble: Popped. The ball: Deflated.
It's pouring the cereal, then discovering that there's no milk.
It's finally falling asleep, then almost immediately being jolted awake by the alarm.
It's giving him your number-and within minutes of the first conversation, realizing that he's a loser.
I've been accused of counting men out before they've even entered the ring--a trait that, while efficient, has also contributed to me clocking in overtime with my Rabbit--so I've been making a conscious attempt to think twice before casting early fumblers aside. Yet, even when liberal allowances are made, there are certain things that, once said, will get a man ejected from the game in the first round. If you're a man who is playing to win, beware of prematurely broaching the following topics:
Sunday, April 10, 2011 at 9:40PM There are certain things that we aren't supposed to admit. Feelings deeply felt when the world has fallen silent. Feelings that prove our vulnerabilities and, just sometimes, make us ashamed of our humanity. Often, these moments sound during life's darkest middles: In the middle of the night. In the middle of the storm. But, this time, it's crept upon me in the beginning. In spring. In daylight. On the first day that winter's burden was shed.
The loneliness.
Monday, March 21, 2011 at 7:51PM 
I acknowledge my idiosyncrasies. No longer taking care to conform to the conventional, I've become comfortable with my wayward peculiarities and defiant quirks. But, every now and then, I am startled with evidence of my own conventionality.
Having recently ended a relationship, moved to the Big City, and gained entry to Corporate America, I did what many women do: Adopt a cat.
But that's where the archetypal gesture of a single, urban professional ends.