To say I was tired of dating was an understatement, probably of the year. The last date was with an accountant in a friend’s firm. He was a beautiful chocolate man, well groomed, and extremely educated. Sounds perfect right? Well let’s start he was also pompous and pretentious with just a hint of being facetious. The entire conversation was about him, him, and oh him. I felt like a job interviewer having only asked one question. “Linda of course told me a few things about you. Tell me something she probably didn’t”, I asked displaying a bright smile. He told me alright, for two straight hours! Thank God he had to pause and eat intermittently or I would have died of boredom. When we got to the movies he had the nerve to “shh” me when I only asked if we could switch seats. After the movie he apologized if that’s what you want to call it. “Sorry I like to watch movies in peace to absorb every little detail. Just remember that for next time”, he said, waving his finger at me. Next time? Did I just hallucinate? He probably didn’t remember my name or what I did for a living because he never asked. I thought maybe I was being too hard on him but then he said, “I know you probably want to kiss me but I am not really into kissing so a handshake will have to suffice.” Kiss you? Kick you is more like it. I just nodded and walked to my car. That’s right the chump didn’t even walk me to my car.
That type of date has been the bane of my existence. In the last year I have had seven dates here is how they breakdown. One was missing two of his show teeth, the ones in the front. Two were nice but when their angry “baby’s mamas” played on her phone for several days at a time sending her pictures of them in compromising positions I backed off. One was just like the date described above unbearable. And less we forget the obvious gay guy who has since become one of my good friends. He was trying to be straight for his parents but it was obvious when he actually met two guys on our date. The last man I dated for three months was almost quite perfect but it didn’t work out. He wasn’t ready to settle down and I didn’t want to be a part of his harem. He said, “I am not ready to commit to just one woman. Life is short and I am enjoying it. I would like to still see you and be with you.” He had the nerve to wink his eye at me, the sex was good but it wasn’t good enough to be in line with God knows how many women.
I thought about all this as I wrote in my journal, something I have done for over five years. Since graduating from college I have wanted to document my life. Now as I sit here sipping a Chai tea in a Starbucks with my laptop sitting before me I wonder what’s wrong with me. I am twenty-seven years old and I work as a writer for a popular magazine. I am in charge of the entertainment section of the magazine and two other writers. I also do some freelance writing on the side which gives me extra money. After this last date my new past time I have decided will be collecting shoes. I have always loved a well-made shoe especially putting it together with the right outfit. After shedding my freshman fifteen I am finally comfortable with my size eight body. No I am not fat but I am not skinny either. I have real woman curves and thanks to a little surgical intervention I have breasts that sing touch me. I consider myself “brown skinned” right in the middle of light and dark, a bit of mocha. My skin compliments my naturally reddish brown hair that I enhanced with a little auburn and cut relatively short. I hate blending in with the crowd but I do not want to stand out so much people are scared of me. So there it is in a nutshell. I am a professional brown skinned woman who has both education and decent looks but alas single as the day is long.
Don’t think I am one of those women whose biological clock is ticking. Nope, not me, I want children someday but I am enjoying my time. I am not racing down the aisle hoping for a few carats on my finger either. I would just like to have someone that I can love and be around. I hate going to company or business functions solo, shallow I know but true. But more importantly I hate, and I know it sounds corny, not having anyone to share all this love with. I have seen enough bad relationships to know that if the love isn’t genuine it will end in disaster. I know I am a great catch so why doesn’t anyone want to catch me? That’s a question I have tried to answer and even when I am being brutally honest with myself, I come up with minor attributes I need to work on.
Oh happy day! My job is launching a new ad campaign for some new rapper endorsed liquor. The events are usually quite fun but I always end up getting called “bourgeois” by someone in the entourage because I don’t want to leave with him. I usually just try and stick to my friend Evelyn who is happily married to a very busy doctor. Evelyn is one of our copyright editors who double as my best friend. Some how she managed not only to stand by her college boyfriend through four years of undergrad and four years of medical school, but through his philandering. I had my doubts when they got married but to my shock and surprise he has been the model husband. I do not; I repeat do not use this as a method of finding a man. If you need to sleep around I am out, I do not have that kind of patience to wait until it’s “out of your system”. So Evelyn will be my pretend girlfriend should I need to make myself completely unavailable.
Tonight’s event requires me to be sexy but not skanky. I slipped into a Dolce &Gabbanared silk babydoll belted tank dress and my favorite and only pair of Prada black patent leather platform t-strap sandals feeling very sexy. Before leaving my little two bedroom apartment I spray on a little classic Chanel No. 5. Evelyn looked stunning in a Taylor
“Thanks looking pretty hot yourself little mama”, Evelyn replied. They made their usual rounds to the editor and a few other key personal before being introduced to the sponsor of the liquor. The new tequila was called, Synchronicity, or Sync for short it came in an hourglass shaped bottle to hype up the product image. The rapper that was responsible for the liquor was a really big name this time. Scion, got his start on the Brooklyn streets then traveled all over the country looking for someone to sign him meeting up with the worst the industry had to offer. He finally headed back home started his own label and shot to stardom. Now as a “retired” music mogul surrounded by his music minions he was releasing what would prove to be another financial success.
“It is nice to finally meet you”, he said extending a bejeweled hand to me. “I really like the piece you did on my clothing line it was nice how you tied in the Sync with that as well.”
“You’re welcome. I had help from two other writers. We thought it would be nice to tie all of your many entrepreneurial ventures into a nice full feature in the entertainment section. I am glad you enjoyed it”, she said beaming with editorial pride.
“Did you get a bottle of Sync for your table?” One of his closer minions quickly placed a bottle in his hand to pass to me.
“Uh yes we did”, she said to Evelyn who nodded dutifully. “Thank you.”
“Well here take one of my special twenty-four carat bottles. It has flecks of edible twenty-four gold inside”, he insisted. “It’s the least I can do for that wonderful article and beautiful smile.” Was he flirting with me? Wow that was a new one. I was totally not interested but I have to admit having a zillion dollar music mogul flirt with you was really nice.
“Why thank you, on both accounts”, I said quickly as Evelyn darted off to talk to another writer on our staff. Scion motioned for me to join his private party which was secluded away from the main party. I didn’t want to be rude but I was pretty sure this wasn’t going to end well. I tried to think positive and enjoy the attention. Scion introduced me around and a few of the artist that I wrote about eagerly shook my head for the awesome reviews. I genuinely liked the new artists he had on contract; they gave me an old hip hop feel. They weren’t full of goofy hooks and represented the throwback sixteen bars from the old school hip hop I love so much. Scion walked me to the exclusive area that was dark with only a few individuals lingering around. I took a seat on an oversized loveseat alone because Scion was called away back to the main party. I figured I would wait fifteen minutes offer an excuse and get back to the bigger party. The problem was that it was very dark in there I could barely see my watch. I wanted to pull my cell phone out of my purse but it appeared that the few people around liked the darkness and wanted it to stay like that.
“Are you trying to figure out how long you have been sitting in the dark?” A smooth voice asked.
“Uh yes whoever said that”, I replied nervously. I tried to stand but it seemed as if it got even darker within those few minutes. I also thought I heard some moaning I really wanted it then but I had no idea were to go. I felt a hand touch me and jumped almost dropping my twenty-four carat Sync bottle.
“Sorry didn’t mean to scare you. I can help you get out of here if you want me too”, the voice said softly. He was too close, I could feel his breath on my neck, and smell strawberries. He was eating strawberries before he came over to me, whoever he was. I tried reaching for him but I ended up touching his shoulder my aim was too high. I pulled back quickly slightly scared not knowing where to move.
“How are you going to lead me out of here if I can’t see anything?” I said in a hoarse whisper.
“I know a way out if you trust me”, the voice said calmly. “I am trustworthy just so you know.”
“Yeah I am sure you are; just get me out of here. I think someone is having sex in here”, I said tight lipped. I heard him laugh slightly before taking my free hand guiding me away.
“I am kind of glad I can’t see that”, he laughed again. They moved around several pieces of furniture before coming to a door. She heard him jiggle the door knob with no success.
“I don’t think you know where you are even going”, I hissed, snatching away my hand.
“I thought this was the right place. I am sorry”, he said grabbing my freehand back. I almost dropped the bottle again. I tried putting it in my purse but it stuck out it was too big. Before I could contemplate that further there was a huge commotion from the other side of the room. We could both hear yelling and shouting coming from the main party area. He magically found a way to get the door knob open and we both ducked inside the small closet. The commotion outside the room continued and I was pretty sure whoever was sexing in that room was rudely interrupted. I scrambled for my cell phone but there were zero bars in this tight closet. I was scared and tried not to panic it would use the available oxygen in this closet to fast.
“Oh my God, do you have a phone with reception”, I yelled. “Please find out what’s going on.”
I saw the light on his phone pop on and he dialed calmly. I tried to make out his face but it wasn’t enough light and we were much too close.
“Hey man what is going on out there?” He asked sternly trying to control the volume of his voice. I was close enough to hear the voice whisper back that there were people in the building with guns holding a few of Scion’s artist’s hostage. Apparently when they descended upon the building they let everyone go except the five men. Scion’s security guard hadn’t found me or the guy so they locked the door just in case we were still inside.
“This is Officer Roberts. If you have a good hiding spot just stay put until we defuse this situation”, the officer said taking the phone from his friend. “They do not need any additional hostages.”
“We have to stay here in this tight ass closet?” I asked angrily.
“We will have you guys out as soon as we can please stay were you are”, the officer insisted.
I tried to think positive; at least we were sort of safe in this closet no one knew we were here. I didn’t have to use the bathroom and I wasn’t hungry more positives. Mr. Mysterious here still smelled like strawberries so that was good. He had reception in this closet so they knew were here. I was running out of positives in my head so I rested my brain hoping for the best outcome.
“So how did you end up in what is now considered a hostage situation?” He asked nicely.
“I am a writer for the magazine. I did a full entertainment piece featuring all of Scion’s many financial ventures”, I said softly. “How about you?”
“I am a business partner of Scion’s. I guess you can say I manage the money.”
“Oh glad I didn’t say anything derogatory about Scion, not that I would have.” I wanted to look somewhere else but I didn’t have anywhere to really move. I was able to get some use what appeared to be a broken stool to lean on to take the pressure off my feet some. Gotta love Prada, their shoes are so beautiful but no good in a hostage situation. He kindly moved back as much as he could to give me a little more room.
“Thanks”, I said very grateful. I refused to take my shoes off no idea what was on this floor.
“Do write anywhere else?” He was trying to keep me calm and my mind off the gun wielding maniacs beyond the door.
“I freelance write for a few other magazine so I can afford shoes that are no good in hostage situations”, I said joking. He laughed and continued asking me questions. It didn’t take me long to let the hostage situation handle itself, my worrying wasn’t doing it any justice. I asked him questions some of which he evaded by answering with a question. Automatically we spoke in lowered voices no need to alert anyone we were in this closet. I had to control my giggles when he made me laugh. He was very funny without trying to be.
“Your boyfriend is going to be mad not being able to reach you”, he said casually.
“That’s an easy one. I don’t have a boyfriend. Single, single to mingle”, I joked. “No seriously I do not have a boyfriend.”
“I find that hard to believe. There must someone making you smile”, he inquired further.
“Nope. The last date I went on he forgot to come up for air talking about himself. He didn’t even remember my name”, I explained. “It was a disaster to say the least. So I am done for now.”
“No more dating because of one bad date. It couldn’t have been that bad.”
“Not because of one bad date try several, ten. It was worse”, I said. I relayed the entire date to him and he concluded that maybe I should lay off the dating scene for a while to recover. We kept up the conversation until I tried to turn the tables and exam his love life. He clammed up immediately.
“So how long have you been married”, I asked knowingly.
“I am not married. I am divorced actually going on six months now Miss Know-it-all”, he answered.
“I was so close! So are you seeing someone”, I asked feigning interest. I could barely make out his face but I liked talking to him. Leave it to me to like someone I couldn’t pick out of a line up. He finally relented and relayed the details of his divorce and I couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for him. It appears Scion not only was a brand but he was a bastard as well.
“I am not mad at him for that really. My wife should have stayed faithful to me, she feel for all the fake hype and attention. He did me a favor really”, he said.
“Bullshit you believe that completely. You didn’t want to punch him at all for sleeping with your wife? What are you some kind of saint?”
“Ok I did want to hit him but what good would that have done. I am in charge of all of his money so I could do more damage than a punch”, he explained. “In the end I just let it go. I realized that women do not want a good man. They want some thug that’s going to put them in a video and give them diamonds.”
“What the hell? That’s not true of all women. I most certainly do not want a thug and I only want a few diamonds”, I said with a slight smile. He shifted uncomfortably and I offered him the opportunity to switch so he could sit on the stool thing my feet weren’t hurting any more. He declined and tried to appear as if he was fine. The light from my phone was no help in the dark closet I could still barely make out his face. We wanted to conserve the battery on his phone so the police could reach us if necessary. It felt like we had been in the closet for hours but in reality it had barely been a half hour.
“So what do you want in a partner?” I thought about that question and realized I hadn’t covered this topic in my journal. I would surely do so as soon as possible.
“I want someone who knows who he is first. I want a man who is not afraid to laugh, be laughed at, or make me laugh. I want a man who wants to be loved and can give it back without force.”
“That’s not too much. Is that all?”
“I just want someone who is ready to be in a relationship and put forth the effort with grace not pressure or force. Hopefully all the other things will fall in place.”
“What other things?” He had what I thought was a puzzled look on the part of his face that I could see. It was the first time I noticed his lips, full and supple. “Stop that”, I chided myself.
“Well for starters he will know how to pay attention, listen, and be a good friend to me. He will also know what I like intimately speaking and what I don’t like.”
“What is intimately speaking?” He said in a mock of my voice. “We are adults speak.”
“He will know how to touch me and if he doesn’t he will be eager to learn”, I said blushing.
“Really and how do you like to be touched? Sorry too personal. Skip that question. What else will this man possess? I haven’t heard you mention anything about his money or car.”
“Thank you I will definitely skip that question. I am not going to pretend when it comes to a job. I don’t need him to be wealthy just have his own job and car. Is it too much to ask that he bring at least what I bring to the table?”
“Double standards! Women can bring nothing to the table and get married right away.”
“Isn’t that the guys fault not the woman’s. If you accept a woman who brings nothing to the table then you were prepared to take care of her. I am not a gold digger if I want my partner to have at least what I have which isn’t much.”
“Fair enough but seriously how many women think they should bring a lot to the table?” His voice rose slightly I knew his wife had been a “homemaker” when they got married.
“I can only speak for myself. I bring a decent career and the ability to contribute to the table”, I said honestly. “Other women do what works for them. I like having my own but usually that means I end up on my own. Men do not like women who are independent. You liked helping the damsel in distress.”
“Who me? No I thought I was getting a partner for life someone to grow old with. Instead I got this demanding, needy, cheating shell of a woman I could barely recognize”, he said defensively.
“No part of you thought you were rescuing her and providing her with more than she could get on her own. Did she work before or after you were married?”
“Ok if we are being honest. I have to say I liked being the breadwinner in the house and she didn’t work after we were married. I was just being the man. You know king of my castle type stuff”, he said smoothly.
“And you got a queen just what you wanted. Men say they want women to evolve in theory but no they want us to sit around dependent on them and then complain when it gets to be too much.”
“Wow you are highly opinionated and by no means did I want her to just sit around and do nothing. I had hoped she was preparing our home for a family”, he believed with some hurt.
“So independent women ruin the fantasy of the castle? Men want a woman they can control and manipulate by being the sole breadwinner. She becomes dependent on you and you decide you don’t like if after a while.”
“Well what is there for a man to do for a woman who has everything she needs? If a woman is too independent she doesn’t need a man really. I don’t want her to forget how to do everything for herself. Before I knew it we had a housekeeper and she never cooked any more”, he stammered defensively.
“Ah ha we get down to it. So if I can care for myself then the man has no place. If I cannot care for myself then he has a place until he is tired of that place. And y’all call women drama queens”, I retort.
“No but men and women have their places whether you want to admit it or not”, he irritably.
“How long were you married?” I was starting to feel sorry for him; this subject was definitely sensitive for him. I could understand his hesitancy in discussing it so soon after his divorce.
“We were married for five years. Three of which were pretty nice. The last two was a desperate attempt to hold on to what we had lost. Then she finished by completely losing her mind and sleeping with my client, Scion.”
“Sorry about that. Did you have children?” I felt like I was stepping into dangerous territory.
“No we didn’t and maybe I was guilty of kinda wanting to be her sole provider. So let’s get back to you and your dateless life”, he said happily changing the subject.
“There is nothing else to say. I will lose my bloom and end up a spinster like Eleanor”, I said quoting one of my favorite books Sense and Sensibility.
“Ah she is a Jane Austen fan”, he replied. I could barely contain my joy. He actually knew the reference my heart fluttered a bit. I tried to reign it in I was still in a hostage situation but this was the best conversation I had with the opposite sex in quite a while.
“I am impressed. Yes I am a huge Jane Austen fan. I re-read her religiously”, I say smiling in the dark closet. There were very few men I could remember who even knew who Jane Austen was.
“I have to confess I never read the books but I do like the movies”, he admitted. “That’s how love should be, chased, demanded, and then guaranteed.”
“I agree that she knows love but I think she was a bit of a fledgling feminist. Her female characters were much stronger than the women around them and they weren’t afraid to demand love”, I say knowingly.
“But the women in her books are damsels in distress. The Dashwood sisters are poor with their father’s death and left to wither in a cottage”, he said boastfully.
“They weren’t necessarily unhappy they just hated losing the things they held dear and it wasn’t money”, I say not believing I am having a debate in a closet about Jane Austen.
“Ok so you don’t want a man with money. You want a man who gets to know you and knows how to love you. Am I forgetting something? Oh he has to make you laugh, right?”
“Check, check, and check.” My hand makes imaginary check marks in the air as I speak. Before I can say anything else he is on me. I can feel his lips on mines as my brain struggles to comprehend. His hands are around my waist and I can feel him against me. I am no longer being supported by the stool. I feel light-headed and I do not stop him from kissing me. I absolutely do not know why I don’t stop him. It’s because his mouth feels fabulous on mines. His tongue is warm against my own and I can taste the faint hint of strawberries. It isn’t until my knees weaken that I pull out some restraint although there isn’t far to go in this closet.
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