A year ago today I was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis. I am sure I have had it for much longer than one year. Maybe I’ve had it all of my life. Maybe I have had it for 20 years. I am not sure when was the first time I had an uncontrollable urge to void and then chose to drop my pants in whichever parking lot I was in at that moment. I wish I knew. The moment my life’s journey changed from hopeful ignorance to life changing disability.
I want to be hopeful. I sincerely do. Sometimes. No, most times I am. Then there are the times that I cry uncontrollably. I cry because of the unknowns. Will I adjust to having to consistently wear incontinence underwear? Will I wake up one day and no longer have the use of my right eye, my left leg or one of my arms? Tear.
This post has to end on a positive, right? I have to leave some hopeful quote that I searched for on Google. Got to love the Google.
Not today.
XOXO
Lesson: Real life does not end in “happily ever after.”
Question: What was the moment your entire life changed? Do you know? Would you want to know?
Monday, Aug 8 Strike One asked that I keep my Saturday open for him. He said that he wanted to see me. Butterflies. Spontaneity is cool. However, a man stating his claim on your time in advance is automatically a turn on. What would we do on Saturday? I am a planner. Strike One stating that he wanted to spend his nearest off day with me made me feel special. Am I a priority to him? Not clear, but surely feels like it. Points.
A few days passed. Things felt off. Hmmm. Calls were few and far between. As a matter of fact, he only called when I was already asleep. Is this a sign? Did he intentionally call knowing that I’d be asleep just to check the box that he called. I’m thinking too deeply as usual. He called when he thought about me. Just breathe.
I am the pink Starburst and he is treating me like I’m a yellow.
Saturday came. We hadn’t touched base on the details of the evening. What’s the plan? I sent a text asking if we were still on. This was his response.
Thoughts?
He’s a flake. We were no longer hanging. PLUS I had to be the one to request the status update. Hmmm. I didn’t respond to the message. Annoyed. I put on my pajamas. Settled into my cozy corner of the sofa. Searched for some mindless programming. Ate something sweet. Then, I did the only thing I had the energy to do. Kick my leg up. *My BFF knows what that means.
Sadness from the movie Inside Out.
XOXO
Lesson: Words don’t mean anything without the actions to back it up.
Question: No questions, it’s definitely strike two.
Update: Strike One/Two and I had a conversation. He wanted to be honest with me. Hmmm. On Saturday after flaking on me, he decided to catch a movie “at the last minute.” Late that night, he felt like going to watch a movie. . . . with a woman. Da f*ck? I thought you felt like staying in!?! Why did he feel the need to tell me? What was I supposed to do with that information? Of course, I am seeing other guys. Friday, I met Kramer for dessert! I am the pink Starburst and he is treating me like I’m a yellow. We are not exclusive. Was he trying to make me jealous? Hmmm. DO I feel jealous? Shit. Yes, I do! I have to leave him alone. Damn it!! STRIKE THREE.
Lesson: Just words.
Question: Why do I keep falling for the same okie doke?
I give up. I officially deleted my Facebook Dating profile. I have come to the overwhelming realization that online dating is not for me. I am still open to meeting someone special. However, I am no longer actively searching for him. I am replacing my deliberate pursuit of him with accomplishing big goals, making self care a priority and continuous personal development. I. Choose. Me.
I can visualize the future me. She’s happy. She’s intentional. She shines. Shine bright like a diamond!
XOXO
Lesson: With or without him, I am going to be alright.
Question: What is your favorite form of self care?
Let’s call this one Kramer. Kramer is 6’5. He’s 49. Has one 26 year old son. Has a full time job. Jovial personality. Friday we had our initial meet and greet at City Works in Frisco. The plan was to have dessert. My sweet tooth has been out of this world lately. City Works has a Peanut Butter Snickers Pie that is divine. My mouth is watering just thinking about it. Should I go there this week?
I wasn’t in the mood to meet anyone new. I’ve been feeling blah lately. I was late to the venue. Kramer text saying that he had arrived. I text saying there was traffic but I would be there soon.
I arrived and landed a parking spot right in the front. I text I was walking in the restaurant. I looked around the restaurant and the only Black man was there with someone. Kramer was nowhere to be found. I immediately ordered a Green Tea shot, and a glass of Angry Orchard. A little something to get my nerves together. I went to the restroom to freshen up. He called. This time asking me for the name of the restaurant. He was across the street at the Star taking a million pictures. Funny, that’s something I would do.
He finally arrived. The first thing that I noticed was his height. He’s very tall standing at 6’5. Nice. He had a belly. Not too big, but definitely noticeable. Interesting. He did not post any full body pictures on his Facebook Dating profile so it shocked me a bit. Not sure why it mattered considering I also have a belly. He leaned in to give me a hug. I gave him a side hug while still sitting on the barstool.
We chatted a bit. I ordered the Peanut Butter Snickers Pie that I came for. He ordered a water. No dessert. No drink. Hmmm. We talked about our children, our church home, or lack thereof, and a little about our jobs. He talked about the fact that it was hard for him to find employment so he settled for the job he was offered. Hmmm. I hadn’t really considered the struggle for a degreed Black man to find employment.
Talked a little more. He kept commenting on my looks, my legs, my feet and my body. He said that I am sexy several times. I do love compliments. However, there is a limit. I want a man that appreciates every inch of body… especially my brain. He almost seemed obsessed with my legs and feet. It was weird but I did not say anything. I finished my dessert. The waitress put the tab in the middle of both of us. He picked it up and made a comment stating that I was expensive. Hmmm. I am expensive. I had a shot, a glass of Angry Orchard, and the dessert. The plan was for dessert. He did not order anything. Is money an issue for him?
“You are falling head first into a relationship with someone you know nothing about and because you know nothing, you project a bunch of amazing qualities on them. You idealize them, put them onto a pedestal. You are basically fetishizing them.”
@therapyjeff knows my life. In one Instagram post he both diagnosed and gave me a roadmap for the future. I didn’t even have to give him a co-pay. I wonder how much is Patreon?
I have been seeing the same counselor, Hope, since I was working for the city and wanted to severely hurt my teammate. I still hate her. Yes, “hate” is a strong word. I mean it in this case. She made everyday miserable for me. I had to take two Xanax before every meeting we had together. An absolutely horrible individual. Just thinking about her makes my blood boil. Wait, what was I talking about? Oh, the sad rollercoaster that is my love life.
Hope said that I “meet a guy and skip to step five before finishing steps two, three, and four.” There is no step six because I find out something crazy about him that I would have discovered at step two if I had taken my time.
For example, about a month ago, I met a guy on Facebook dating. Let’s call him “Dr. Phil.” I met Dr. Phil. We hung out once and then I proceeded to take a cue from the “Int’l Players Anthem.” I sent a text to my roster “sayin’ that I chose this cutie pie with whom I wanna be.” I knew absolutely nothing about this man other the fact that he was incredibly nice, very into me, and was ready to give me al of his free time. I have a tendency to be clingy. I need to talk to Hope about that.
Words of affirmation is my love language. If a dude says two nice words to me in a row, then I am immediately in love. Of course it is not actual love. I am not even sure if it can be described as infatuation. I know nothing about the man. Can you love someone you don’t know? My brain responds to his attention like it is a love at first sight situation. Is that even a thing? I start planning our future, searching for white dresses on Amazon, and picking a venue for a wedding on Pinterest. Nothing too extravagant. Courthouse is my ideal. With a photographer because I have to post it all on my Instagram. Instagram is life. I have a board titled, “Happily Ever After” on Pinterest.
Dr. Phil wanted to be exclusive immediately. I agreed. However, I did not deactivate my dating account. Just in case the next match had more affirmations for me.
I found out that Dr. Phil lives with his brother, sleeps on a mattress with no bed frame, and did not have enough money to pay his cell phone bill. Ick! He’s been calling again. His phone is back on. I am definitely glad that I kept my profile open. I am not all the way out of my mind. Just a little.
Just as @therapyjeff said, I knew nothing about this man and put him on pedestal before he earned it. I was looking for a fairy tale. I dream about sitting on the porch with my grandchild telling her the story of how I met my love and we were inseparable from the start. I realize now that sh*t does not exist.
Maybe it does exist. But it is the exception, not the rule. I have to slow down.
XOXO
Lesson: “Slow down, I just wanna know ya” said Bobby V.
Question: What’s your love language? How do love languages show up in your life?
There’s a guy. We’ve been conversing and went on two dates. I’m not going to say that this is serious or anything just yet. A gentleman. He stood up from the booth when I got up to powder my nose. Then stood up when I came back to the booth. Points.
What should I name him? Let me think. G. I. Joe… Michael Kyle (the daddy from “My Wife and Kids”)….. Nope. Got it. Strike One. Let’s call him Strike One.
We met face-to-face at Chick-fil-A on Thursday, July 21st.
It’s weird that I remember the date. I’ve been keeping records of the dudes I’m entertaining on the Notes part of their contact information. Dates. Kids names and ages. Where he’s from etc. My memory sucks. This helps me tell them all apart.
Exhibit A
We initially met on Facebook Dating. Nice guy. Looks like his photos. 47. Nice voice. Two kids. 27 and an 11 year old daughter that he’s crazy about. Has a church home. Divorced. The wife left him for another man. Interesting. Need to get more details with time. Has stable employment. IT. His name is on a lease. Actively pursuing two certifications. I’m intrigued by him.
Asked me to leave this Saturday open to spend with him. Okaaaaaaay!
Shaq doing a shimmy. Perfection.
Last night he needed to study for a bit. He and I agreed to FaceTime at 10pm. A plan. I am frequently in the bed at 9:00pm sharp. I intentionally stayed on the sofa watching “Everything’s Trash.”A cute show, by the way. I love the main character. She is unapologetic about being her authentic self, “Sexcellence” and all. Plus, she has pink hair. I have a strong desire to dye my hair hot pink. Stay tuned.
I yawned at 9:58pm. Starting to get sleepy. Two minutes til ten. I can do this. I shook off tired and focused on the episode.
There was a Beyoncé trivia night at Cafe 214 last Saturday. I heard about the event and immediately text a bunch of friends, bought a table and started to plan an outfit that was Beyoncé worthy.
On the day of the event quite a bit of my friends had other things happen that made them no longer available. Cool. I was still going and going to have a great time.
I arrived late. Checked in. I had an 8 person booth to myself. I stretched out. Picked a team name. DDC. Ordered a tequila sunrise and a watermelon mint hookah. That hookah hit hard. HARDT. Turned the night into a solo date and embraced being with my thoughts and Beyoncé. The only time I remembered that I was alone is when I didn’t know the answer to the trivia question. But I phoned a friend and got the answer.
Enough room for me to stretch out:)
The ladies at the table across from me were hella friendly. The event was an entire vibe. Hookah was potent. Music selections were banging. The Bee Hive was in full effect. I sang my heart out when the question involved Beyoncé’s song, “1+1.”
If I ain’t got nothing, I got you. If I ain’t got something, I don’t give a damn. Cause I got it with you. I don’t know much about algebra, but I know one plus one equals two!
Algebra was the answer. The atmosphere was the perfect balance of chill and hype. Second round started. Hmmm. I have to use the restroom. I should have went to the restroom at intermission. I was playing on my phone instead. Instagram is life. I really need to go to the restroom. They played some of my favorite Beyoncé songs and I sang along. Very loudly. I wanted to wait until the game was over. After two rounds of questions regarding the Queen, “what’s her dad’s name?” and “how many Grammys does she have?” Matthew and I have no idea. They began a round of Urban Trivia. I finally went to the restroom. By this time, it was a full on emergency. I walked briskly towards the women sign. As soon as I opened the door, I saw the line of ladies who also were antsy for a little relief. Uh oh. I thought about pleading my case to skip. I didn’t say anything. Got my spot in line. UH OH. I immediately proceeded to have an accident. Right there standing next to the stall. I felt the leakage rolling down my leg. Fuck!
Yes, I knew I had to use it. Yes, I know holding it is an issue for me. I didn’t want to miss any trivia questions. That shit wasn’t even important. I wasn’t even close to winning. The restroom was next to the speakers so I’m sure I could have heard the questions. In hindsight, I realize this accident was completely avoidable. I have an issue with incontinence. I know this. I’ve had it so long that I cannot remember when it started. 15+ years. I’ve peed in numerous parking lots, on the side of buildings, in the dressing room of Cache in Cortana Mall, and once on the highway where 114 and George Bush intersect. However, These last 2-3 years my issue has become a major challenge. My quality of life has been altered. I now peed on myself in the restroom at Cafe 214.
Luckily, I’m always prepared for these situations. I keep wipes, extra underwear and even a pair of jean shorts in the car at all times. I cleaned myself up in the car. Went back to my seat. By this time the waitress had taken the remnants of my drink and my hookah from the table. She thought I had left. I decided to leave. I felt icky. I was alone. I wanted a shower, a bed and a heavy cry.
I started to cry as soon as I drove out of the parking lot. Sob actually. A real nasty heavy cry. There was also a runny nose. Just nasty. The devil whispered in my ear, “you are alone. You have no one. You have nowhere to go. Nobody to call.” The devil really is a liar. I’ve heard that said countless times. This is the first time he’s lied and I recognized the lie. In truth, I’m the opposite of alone. I have a phenomenal support system of family and friends.
My phone rang. It was my BFF. She knew I had an accident. She wanted to check on me. She has a telepathic sense of when I need her. I told her earlier about my accident and she wanted to make sure that I was feeling okay. I’ve never been alone. That damn devil. Lying and shit. My BFF has come to every single appointment with my neurologist for the last year. She asks the questions that I forget. She takes notes. She also reports the status update to the rest of my support system each time. I have multiple sclerosis. An autoimmune disease. One of the side effects of MS is incontinence. I wasn’t crying because I was alone. Damn devil. I was crying because I have this shit. Multiple Sclerosis. I’m still learning what multiple sclerosis means. I barely know how to spell it. Thanks autocorrect.
I was diagnosed August 2021 when another friend drove me to the emergency room. Stayed all day. Test after test and two MRIs. She was next to me when the cold ass Karen told me that I have it. Multiple Sclerosis. I have multiple sclerosis. Fuck.
Back to last Saturday. Once I remembered the devil is a liar. I wiped the tears from my eyes. I am the furthest thing from alone. The devil knows my weakness. I was invited to a pool party. I have a lot of friendsand associates. I showered. Put on a swimsuit that makes titties TITTY. Uber cute and my favorite colors. Black and white. I got the address and headed to the pool party. I needed a drink and a laugh. I knew both would be there. It was a great night. Hilarious people. Laughs galore. Too much alcohol. I had a half of a red Solo cup of Cabernet. There were these cinnamon rolls that were extremely hard to put down. I even slid down the pool slide. A good fucking time.
I conquered the slide!
I did not let a five minute challenge ruin my entire day. Gold star. Saturday was an event filled day consisting of gun range and Bar Louie with a new male friend. Wink. Beyoncé trivia, pool party and it ended with some excellent sleep. It was a good day.
XOXO
Lesson: Don’t let MS hold you back. Take a shower and go on.
I’m single and ready to mingle. Open to finding an incredible guy to settle down with, become the best of friends and experience life together. I’ve heard that it’s a good thing to be set up by a friend with a friend. If you know someone that has these qualities, then please let me know.
Here is my list:
Single
Straight
Black
Chocolate skin
Taller than me
Strong enough to protect me in a fight
Positive relationship with money
Saver
Best friend potential
Thinks before he acts
Able to clearly communicate his feelings
Open communication
Playful
Affectionate plus PDA
Accepts me the way I am, but also…
Encourages my growth
I am a priority
Appreciative
Active Christian
Has a church home
Attends service periodically
Texts in complete sentences
Calls frequently
Takes me out
Video call before meet and greet
Plans spontaneous outings
His name is on a lease or mortgage
Independent
1 child or less
Man of his word
Sense of humor
Finds me funny
Similar interests
Tolerates karaoke
Respectful
Role model for Mason
Good hygiene
Gives me an adequate amount of attention
Honest
Trustworthy
Faithful
Thoughtful
Notices the small things
Makes his interest in me obvious
Wants a relationship
Wants to get married…. eventually
Does not want more children
Cooks
Likes to clean
Gives compliments
Attractive to me
I feel safe with him
Has a social life and friends of his own
Good relationship with his family
Tenured employment
Ambitious
Actively working on goals
Optimistic
Brings positive energy
Able to hold a conversation
Supports my self care
Supports my social life
Degreed
Good credit
Positive friends
Comfortable with CBD
Consistent spicy sex life
Performs cunnilingus
Accepts infrequent blow jobs
Mature
Co-parents positively
Cordial with child’s mother
Equal partnership
Doesn’t have gender roles but does put the trash out
Compatibility
Active listener
Makes me happy
Is my friend first
Able to converse with others
Long list? Have I missed anything?
Lesson: I want what I want.
Question: What are your “must haves” in a significant other?
You should work hard and get promoted to management.
You should buy a single family home in the suburbs and get a dog.
You should have 2 children.
You should be promoted to senior management.
You should put your kids in a bunch of activities and drive a mini van to haul their soccer equipment.
You should sell your starter home and buy something bigger, drive a luxury vehicle, go on fabulous vacations and have your friends over for catered dinner parties.
The “shoulds.”
Where did they come from? I never had a consultation with the leader of the “shoulds” where I was given the rundown. I just know them. I see them lived out. I attend the celebrations, like the posts, and write “congratulations” on their social media every time someone checks a “should” off of the list. Graduation, engagement, bridal shower, baby shower, house warming, anniversary etc. I “should” have a celebration too. New blog shower🙂
My entire life I have attempted to live by the “shoulds” and consistently failed. Failures that have left me feeling…. less than. Inadequate. Like I am a failure. Like I’ve lived my life wrong. Have I failed at life?
4 year degree? CHECK
Nice guy? NO
Stable job? CHECK**
Married? NO
Management? NO
Single family home? Dog? NO
Two kids? NO
Senior Management? NO
Mini van? NEVER
Big house? Luxury vehicle? Fabulous vacations? Catered dinner parties? NO***
If I compare my life to this list of “shoulds.” A list that I essentially created on my own. Then, I would be a failure. Why have I created a list that I can’t and didn’t complete? I will discuss this with my counselor on Thursday.
I’m ready to burn the “shoulds.” I’m ready to accept myself as I am. To love myself just the way I am. I am a beautiful masterpiece and also a work in progress… at the same time.
There are no “shoulds.” Wait. There’s one.
I should do whatever I need to do to fight for my happiness and live a life that I am proud of.
XOXO
Lesson: Be like Rhianna, and “live your life hey, ayy, ayy, ayy”
Question: Am I the only one with the “shoulds?” What “shoulds” have you told yourself?
**It took me 40 years to land the stable job.
***My vacations are pretty amazing. For clarity, “fabulous,” is on a whole different level. First class not Wanna Get Away.
DDCANDTHECITY 