old and unfinished ramblings

So, I guess it's about time for me to really come out the closet.  China for me has been cathartic for me.  It's been a process being strong enough to do what you want to do and be who you wanna be.   But, hey that's life isn't it.

Now , to step out of the closet...Number one, I adore younger men....Always have.  If I recall correctly of the guys I have dated; I have only dated two who were older than me and that was only by months.  Ok, ok... most of you knew that already...no biggie.  Ok I'll come clean... The audience goes quiet....Number two, I like cute men....alright...that's a given. Ok drum roll, please....Number three, I like white men. And the world gasps. There you have it, ladies and gentlemen. The magnificent feat of stepping out of the closet has just been performed.

Some of you aren't shocked...Probably most of you don't even care.  And guess what, my first instinct is to defend myself, but I'm not going to do that...It's stupid. Because there isn't anything to defend.  But if I could help you understand then I will try to explain. 

The reason why the first instinct is to defend is probably when most people hear this...and believe me I have heard the variations...From black men..."I like white women"...from white men ..."I like black women"...after living in China for 4 1/2 years....from foreign men..."I like Asian women".  But on hearing that, the first thing, can I dare say most people, hear is "I only like such and such".  For some that maybe true. I think that's f*%ked up.  I don't understand how you can not "like" your own "kind" (mooooo, I'm a cow).   We are your sisters and mothers. We are YOU.  You come from us. So, how could you not want us.  

I have always thought that it was a subconscious form of self hate via self mutilation.  Wow!!! Just call me Dr. Apple.  I've learned well from my mentor Dr. Phil and Oprah (of whom I look nothing like) I know it may seem out there, right.  Well, how about short and simple...ok maybe not short...and yeah, probably not simple either. 

Let's say that "You're poor, you're black and you're ugly" (quote from The Color Purple). Well most people internalize that negativity.  You hate your self because you aren't rich, white and beautiful.  Outwardly one thing you can see is the attempt to take on either attributes of the rich, white and /or beautiful" in an attempt to make self valuable, and shed those of the category of the poor, black or ugly, either physically or socially.

And that's where the self-mutilation comes in...the denying of "self". Somethings are naturally fluid and changeable.  If you are poor, you can become rich...If you're ugly, thanks to plastic surgery you can become beautiful. But God forbid, if you're black, what can you do?  Oh, you can get a nose job, white friends, or a white wife.  That'll do it. You'll no longer be black.  The taking on of these attributes can not change the color of your skin nor can it ever rearrange your life experience as "poor, black and ugly".  But assuming the valued characteristics may make you feel better about yourself and gives you a false sense of self. That's the self-mutilation. 

Oh, so you say "but I'm not, as you say Dr. Apple, poor, black and ugly".  No, you're just white and boring.  There have been times that I felt that a white guy was just a starched shirt...stiff....a white wall...lacking decor.  And I had a sense that his attraction to me was purely out of the "exoticness" of my ethnicity that by being with me he would be "less boring". You do know that the best sex you'll ever have is with a black woman? It's like a drug to be taken 3x a week preferably without food but alot of wine. It'll morph you into someone exciting. Those black beauties are always horney and can rough ride all night and they'll sleep with anyone.  You do know that, right?  I thought you should hear that from a sistah.  Whatever...if you really think that, then I'll hit you in the balls.  

I don't know how much any of this really matters, the "why" of attraction.  Sometimes over analyzing can hinder you more than help you. You are what you are. As long as you 're "happy" with your self and it's not damaging to others, what does it really matter why you are attracted to who you are attracted to.  

Currently Listening Body Kiss By The Isley Brothers Busted see related

My crime is that I am vain. I like cute men.  Who you date always reflects the person that you are.  One guy I met is a physical trainer in Hong Kong.  He is a black african.  I forget what country.  He has a body to die for...He has a good size on him. He's just ripped with muscles. "Pow, pow, pow"!!!  What's the problem?  I don't like his mug. He's not cute in the face.  Some friends joked..."Who cares?  Just put a bag over his face?" Apparently, I care.  I like to look at a guy.  Just having a body? I can't do that.   

Pretty much if I had to choose, looks would win every time... Money versus Looks? Looks. Skin color or Looks? Looks. Ethnicity/Nationality or Looks? Once again, Looks.  Except when you ask me, Personality versus Looks? Ummm...I have to have both.  I'm sorry.  I can't choose.  I have to have looks and a personality.

I do have a redeeming quality. A  guy can be a total hottie but yet an arse. And I'll just lust after him.  He'll be regulated to periods of mild off-stage flirtations and from time to time making guest appearances as the sweet, kind and attentive guy in those dreams you have before you drift off to sleep satisfied.  But I won't want to be in a "real" relationship with him...He's just eye candy.   But a guy can be sweet and kind and I just can't get passed that he's not cute.

Last week a guy took an interest in me.  That isn't anything new, but neither is it an everyday occurrence.  Apparently my fan club is growing among the african contingent at Ubar.  Dave and I decided to have a Ubar marathon last week before the holiday was to end the following week.  Upon never having met me a Nigerian named Ola brought me a drink the first night.  Guys, write that move down, I'll admit that in Shenzhen that was suave.  We talked for a couple of minutes then he walked a way.  Later he came back and asked me for my number. I refused to give it to him.  He gave me his card.  The second night there was much of the same. He brought over a drink then invited me over to his table.  I declined.  He asked a second time for my number. He wanted very much to have dinner with me. I told him that I'd think about it.  He came over later and asked again.  I gave it to him.  Night number three when I arrived he came over and told me that he was sitting "over there" then pointed toward the bar and then told me that he wasn't going to bother me. I nodded and allowed him to stay "over there" the entire night.  He called me the next Wednesday and asked me to dinner.  I told him that I was unsure about having dinner with him.  He told me "I know".  Regardless, I wouldn't be capable of having dinner with him that night.  I had chinese class and was quite tired from returning to work.  

So, what's the problem.  There wouldn't have been any problem if I just went with my gut.  But no, I allowed myself to doubt and listen to my friends who were like "He's good enough".  What the hell is all that about?  "He's good enough." Then you go out with him since you're attracted to him.  I'm not so I can't.  I thought about it for more than a week.   I wrestled with "he seems nice." Bump that.  The answer is "No". 

He called me Saturday night and the answer was "No".  Of course we had to go through the why nots. And I know that it didn't help that I didn't have any to share with him. What am I supposed to say..."Uh...Plastic surgery...You're just not up to my standards aesthetically".  Seriously,  it really just boils down to not being interested enough in going out with him. Although still cautious, I'd be more gungho and waiting for instead of dreading his phone call, if I was physically attracted to him.   Our phone conversation ended with me telling me "You aren't going to change my mind. It's made up. I have to go. I have a party to go to. Goodbye." Hopefully, that will really be the end of that.  Heartless I know, but what's a girl gonna do.  I should have let my "no" be "no" and stuck to it.  

Like I'm even supposed to overlook that he's not cute? Not even!   I know that I am expected to.  Let's be honest. Most guys will screw a not so attractive girl because they have a need not because of desire.  But to adorn the coveted crown of "Girlfriend" one needs to be cute.  On the rare occassion that a girl slips under the radar it's usually because a) he knocked her up or b) she became his friend, and one day when he had matured into his title as "Prince Charming" (meaning the girl got tired of waiting and began dating someone else), he realized what a treasure he had as a friend. And began to pursue her as an object of desire.  Only the few, the brave,the strong,  can see past a girl who's not cute and into her soul.

But as a woman, from my pedestal I'm expected to be "ok" with being desired and look past a man's looks and love him for his personality.  Right...Uhh...No! I'll love you, all right.  Love you as a friend. I just can't allow ugly on top of me. I mean, uh...I mean, Him being unattractive to me does nothing for my libido. I have to be able to look at him. I want to desire and be desired also. I know, I know...Women are sexually aroused emotionally and men are sexually attracted to women visually.  Right, right. Whatever. Here's one woman off the pedestal who is sexually attracted visually, but still can't screw unphased like a man. Oh, but that's a blog to come.  

Oh My God!!! I was reading through some of my last entries and realized that I totally did not tell you the finale of "The Marco Polo Saga." It'll be short, I promise. Definitely much shorter than the demise and lingering death of, for a lack of a grandiose vocab, "our relationship".   NOT EVEN!!!!  Regardless of an appropriate word for whatever the hell was happening.  This man, who I can only imagine is oblivious to the world around him, sent me another SMS text message at the beginning of August.  It read something like...

Hi April, how are you? How was your weekend? Sometimes I think about when we went out and how I liked it. 

Ok, ladies and gentlemen, here's where I, April Arnell Walker (that's right! I used my middle name!), cease to be nice and confused and I get angry. This Italian PUNK ass muthaf$%kah has the nerve to write shit like that. I totally refuse to debate the motivating factors behind his comment or to entertain mitigating circumstances.  His rationale for only contacting me once a month, behind this entire  encounter does not concern me.  There are no what-if scenarios floating around in my head.  I...DON'T... CARE...!!!  For closure I write back with the sentiment of  "Go f$%k yourself!!!"  No, no, no. I didn't actually say that.  I wasn't pushed that far, but I did much better than that. I wrote:

When I think about when we went out I think of two things. I think of how you acted like you liked me and I think of the Phillippines. Also, let's be honest, I don't know why you still message me. There is no hope of us having anything. No friendship. No sex. No anything. Your little messaging when you want then me replying only to not get a reply does nothing for my libido. So, stop sending me messages. 

THE END

And I have to say that I haven't received another text message. 

"I Call No Dibbs!!!"

     I have this attraction to a guy I know.  I'll call him "Sir Flirts-a-lot".  You guys know me. My only vice is that I love to flirt (yeah, right).  It's not often that I find someone who can give me a run for my money.   He does (flirt-wise) and it excites me.

     I'll share with you a little epiphany I recently had.  I actually got jealous and it forced me to stop telling the commonly heard lie "Oh, we're just friends."  As for the jealousy thing I'm a firm believer that there's  only jealousy when there is doubt.  If you are sure of the person and/or of your relationship then jealousy can't rear its ugly green head.  My name is April and I am a jealous, possessive and insecure person.  Step 1.  

      I was asked if I had called "dibbs" on him.  You remember when we were  snotty nosed brats and we wanted to sit in the front seat of the car on the way to the mall or to grandma's house, we would call "Dibbs!" This one word assigned not ownership but authority. It's like a delegated power of attorney without the delegating. So, did I call dibbs? No, I did not.  I was left with the slight impression  that I really couldn't get jealous if I hadn't call dibbs and if I did call dibbs then I have to make a move.  Apparently that's written in the Code of Dibbs,  somewhere. 

     I have realized that for whatever reason(s),  I do like this guy.  I can't really say what I like about this guy.  I know that I enjoy the flirting.  But, I can't help but to maybe over-think and question the attraction.  Of course, I know why he's attracted to me. I'm a bombshell...36-28-36 (You guessed it, I fudged on the numbers a bit.)  My attraction for him is the only question that I can maybe try and find an answer to.  He has to answer his own questions.  So what I question is am I really attracted or am I just wanting.  

       However, I do know the answer to the question "Do I know what I want?"   Yes I do. I just don't know if I want it with him.  I would like to be in a loving relationship.  And for me that does not mean a lifetime.  It's good while it's good and it works while it works.  I just want it to be geniune and sweet.  I don't wanna f$%k for f$%k sake.  Over it. Done with it.  So last year. Physically it's little more than masturbating with another person and emotionally it's empty.  So what's the point.  After awhile you cease to get off on it. It's called maturity.  

           So, now I am presented with the choice..."to hit or not to hit, that is a question". (It's much funnier if you know the back story; apparently my Junior 2 students know this play on Shakespeare's quote as " to be or not to be, that is a question."  Not that is THE question.)  Those of the Rebeccas of Sunnybrook farm say "Take a chance. Who knows it could workout."  This is what I call "hoping against hope."  I don't really know what that phrase from the bible is suppose to mean, but when I was younger it always sounded similiar to holding on to your last thread of dignity.

            I am racing toward the stationwagon for the backseat screaming "No Dibbs!!!" (which means that I can't get jealous, right? Riiiiight).   It's not that I don't want him.  That would be a question and answer for another day.  Let's just say the attraction is mutual. I say "So".  So what? I find him attractive and he finds me attractive.  That makes a perfect match doesn't it?  I am not of the mind that just because you find someone appealing physically or otherwise then the coupling has been ordained by heaven on high.  Attraction is a motivator not the determin-"ator" of a relationship.  It persuades you to drop your guard  physically and/or emotionally.  There are so many other factors to consider like timing and the amount of bullshit you can get the other person to believe.  You know, do the two of you fit? Do you see eye to eye on the important stuff? Are you comfortable with one another? Do you like and respect one another?

     I'm as respectfully as possible taking a back seat in this matter. It basically boils down that I am not going to make a move.  I'm not going to (seriously) hit on him, flirt is a car of a different color.  I don't think I can stop cold turkey. I need my weekly fix. I just refuse to make the first move.  If I wanted to just screw him, I would (make the first move).   It comes down to that I am not interested in just screwing.  But I honestly believe that a man has to be mature enough and know what he wants (or possibily wants to explore) thinking maybe he might be "limiting his options" to one woman. I hate to say it because we are in the Era of Women's Lib, aren't we? No, we are in the Aftermath of the Women's Lib.  It sometimes seems that in us making the first move, somewhere a guy's responsibility has been swept under the rug and men are allowed to remain boys.  It used  to be that specific actions meant something and iniated courtship.  With the equality of women every action has a question and the answers are vague.  Does he or does he not want a commitment? Does he or does he not just want to have fun?  A man has to be accountable for making a choice in a relationship.  That way in the future there is no confusion about his actions, it's one of the Tenets of Being a Man.  

          Yeah, I know that my analogy still has me in the car.  My mother would tell me  "Stop right now, young lady. Don't you dare take another step towards that car." But where is the fun in that? I think that on the road I am presently on I see all of these flashing warning signs. I see them,  honestly I do.  I just don't know if the signs read "Turn Back Now, Bridge is Out" or "Precede With Caution". I gotta find my glasses. Where on God's green earth did I put them?      

Alright you guys, I know that I haven't written in a long time.  I've had a bit of writer's block compounded by the fact that nothing is happening in my life. 

Right now I'm doing this English Summer Camp. It's fun, but hectic.  I have my own class of chinese kids.  I also have a teaching assistant.  Having one makes teaching so much easier.  I wonder if I could talk my school into giving me one.  She gives them examinations and homework and translates my instructions when needed.  Anywho she makes my life easier. 

I wanted to give you guys an update on Marco Polo, mainly because he didn't just fall out of my life.  I haven't seen him since the Philippines, but we  have corresponded. So, after the confrontation in the Philippines I told you that I thought it was over.  I didn't see him for the rest of the holiday.  He was suppose to leave Saturday and on that Sunday night I returned to Shenzhen.  On Tuesday night I received a light and airy SMS from Mr. Polo.  It read something like "Hi April! Have you returned to Shenzhen?". I replied "Yes, returned Sunday night".  What the hell? so, I was definitely wondering what was going on?   Didn't the Philippines feel like the end?   Five days pass. Then there's another unexpected message.  I don't recall what it said, but I replied. Another four or five days pass and there's another message..."Hi, April! Did you have a typhoon in SZ?". That was during our rainy days.  It rained almost every day for like 3 weeks.

 I totally don't understand what's going on in his head.  I actually thought that maybe he was trying to make conversation, but he would never return my messages and I made sure that I asked questions.  So, another four or five days pass and I get another SMS, again I don't recall its contents. But, whatever it said I replied. And once again there was no reply.  So this time I sent a message asking him if  he had gotten my message and why had he not replied and that it was rude not to return a message.  He asked me to send it again. I said no.  

Fast forward my life about a month to July 9th. (Look, I remember because the final game in the World Cup was to be played that night.  And who was playing Italy and France. Go France!!!  Die Italy!!!)   I had not heard a word from him since he had asked me to send my SMS again. Sunday morning I get an SMS "Hi April! I've just returned from a three week holiday in Italy."  Whatever dude! I take about 30 minutes to think about my reply.  I decided that I was going to either one of two things.  I was either going to "Tell the truth and shame the devil!!! " or not reply at all. Dave thought that I should just send a message saying "Stop sending me messages!"  But I thought that to be too harsh, not the sentiment but the word choice especially without any explanation.  I know that I shouldn't be concerned about that after all that happened but I think that has more to do with me as a person than it has to do with having any respect for him.  I know part of it is wanting to be with someone.  But a large part of it is that I am a pleaser.  Programmed in my head is... "Be nice." You know, you're suppose to be nice.  Always be nice.   I decided to reply and tell the truth and this is what I wrote...

 "Hello, I hope you enjoyed your home.  I'm going to be honest with you.  I don't know if we should continue to send messages.  I don't think we communicate very well. Nor do we have very much in common. It's been difficult to get to know you. So, I'd like it if you would not contact me anymore."    

Think it was over?  No it wasn't....later that night while I was at dinner he sent me a message saying he had  gotten 3 messages from me but all of them empty.   So, I contemplated what to do.  What if the gods were sending me a sign?  What did I do? I refused to deal with it.  Just left it as is.  I 'll deal with it later maybe or maybe not at all. Maybe eventually he'll just stop sending me messages.