feeling some kind of way...a rant

...and I'm too tired to try to pretty it up, wrap it in metaphors or analogies, or express it as prose. And I'm too tired to pull the punch, make it sound less ____ (angry, bitter or whatever adjective you'd like to use). So I'm gonna serve it straight, let it ramble, and hope that letting it out lets me get some sleep.

I stood in my kitchen, labeling bookbags, notebooks and clothes et. al. for the first day of school, for the 10th time for my son, which makes my 22nd time overall. And suddenly I squeezed out a few tears, angry tears, frustrated tears, sad tears, but tears, nevertheless. And I tried to figure out why I was crying..

I had another wack date, well - 2 in fact....

Date One:: with a guy I knew wouldn't be interested and frankly - I'm not sure why I even went, other than to prove myself right. And he rambled on, like most men do, about why the dating game for women in Atlanta sucks so badly, and the 0-10 rating system men use to rate women. His scale was based on Real Housewives of Atlanta, with Lisa being a 12 (on a 10 scale) and Kandi being about a 5. My suspicions about his interest were confirmed when he said Oprah was a zero on this scale, for looking completely busted sans makeup (I've been told too many times that we could be distant cousins to ignore the signifigance of his remarks).

But the capper of the "meeting" (you'll see why it wasn't a date in a moment) was when the bill came. This guy had ordered a Coke, and informed the waiter that "we won't be eating - just drinking a single drink". Well, about 3/4's into my margerita, I realized that I'd skipped lunch and dinner, so I ordered spinach dip. As Mr. RHOA rated Oprah, I got a 2nd margerita. So when the bill came, $20.13 - of course Mr. RHOA insisted he was only paying for A drink. A as in single - his. I politely pulled out a $20, told Mr. RHOA that I'd prepared for this as soon as he shooed the waiter off, and that his behavior was typical of a dude that would pay $20 to enter a club, $10 to buy a stranger a drink, but pay $6 for the drink of someone he'd invited out. Clearly, he would've eaten that whole bill if I looked remotely like Lisa or Kandi (him being about a 5 on his own scale). But I was Oprah, and I guess I'm supposed to be grateful that I got a drink.

Date Two:: wasn't really a date, but lunch with a friend. A friend who is married, that I talk to regularly and enjoy our conversations. Problem is I'm bitter and jaded, and listen to too many of my guy friends who say "married men don't make friends with single women just for the sake of expanding their social network. They try to get some sideline p*ssy." Problem is, this isn't the first time this has happened - other married men have pretended to want to be friends, so that they could ease their way into my bed. And no matter how much I'd like to believe this brother is on the up & up, that idea is nagging at me. That and a random remark from him that "now he understands why I'm single."

Incident Three:: is an ex, well more like an ex jump off for many reasons that I can't get into. And who has a penchant for dirty talk all the time, via phone call, IM or txt, which I find very tasteless. While he finds it sexy, I've always thought it to be rather base and a turn off. And I've told him this, repeatedly. I've finally had to minimize contact, because he wasn't taking the straight talk about it - f*ck a hint.

Combine all this with spending time school clothes shopping with my ex - who despite being an abusive philanderer involved in an incestuous relationship with his cousin, still makes comments about wanting to f*ck me. And my having an uphill single mom battle trying to get the boy ready for school in the AM, and getting his registered tomorrow, and the dates that cancelled at the last minute with no real plausible reason, and my paying for a sitter regardless, and...

I'm frustrated. Those ideas seem unrelated - my frustration with the guys I spend time with (too wack to call them dates) and prepping Hammy for the 1st day of high school, but they're not.

back to the tears:: I squeezed tears out of my eyes, forced them out, hoping beyond hope that I could get them out, and feel a little peace - enough that I'd be able to go right to sleep. And as my eyes welled up, and the first tear stained my cheek, I thought:

"I never asked for this, yanno? I never prayed to be 'strong'. I never decided 'I want to be independent'. I never said 'please, fill my life with challenges so that I can be tested by fire....molded like a sword, pounded, honed, steel-like'. And I certainly didn't want to become so unappealing for having become a 'survivor'." I'm standing here in this kitchen, in this fly house I worked so hard for, prepping for another battle, and all I want is someone whose shoulder I can lean on, and for them to hold me up instead of beating me up about who I am. All I want is to trust someone enough to let my guard down, to take down the electified fencing, and lower the moat....and know that they won't rob & pillage...I just want someone who will just let me be...

The tears lasted about 10 seconds - I squeezed out a couple, then they dried up as I pushed the thoughts away. I thought: "I don't have the time to be soft, or sensitive. I've got shyt to do".

But as I write this, they're back. And I don't know how it's possible, but at the moment - I'm feeling like a "bust down" - unworthy of daylight, or a date that I don't also have to pay for, as well as slightly shady as a parent (for no good reason - other than the poor choice I made of a coparent). So really....

I just want to scream:: I'm not your personal sperm receptacle. I'm not your sounding board about the issues between black men and women. I'm not your raggedy justification for why you want to date outside the race. I'm not the barometer for your attractiveness as a man. I'm not the placeholder p*ssy you hold onto until something better comes along - or as an alternative to the residential p*ssy you already have on deck. I'm not the angry black woman you use as an excuse to justify your selfish behavior. I'm a PERSON. I have feelings. And just because you're not attracted to me - that's no justifaction for your inexcusably boorish behavior.

I want to love a black man, I truly do. But they make it so f*cking hard and undesirable.