Is that smoke I smell?

If I like everything about a person except for one thing, shouldn’t I get over myself to get over it? Especially if it’s just ONE thing? Okay that one thing is that I think he smokes, but I asked and he said no. Maybe I simply just don’t like how he smells, but how do I tell someone hey I don’t like you because your pheromones stink?

This is an excerpt from an email that I sent to a friend that leads to part two of this three part series.


Okay my perfect little man has a problem or maybe I have a problem. He is witty, intelligent, wise beyond his years, thoughtful, has no children, has never been married, employed with a business on the side, sweet to his mama and did I mention he even goes to church. The boy can quote scripture. From my vantage point he is perfect. I knew it was too good to be true, there had to be a catch. However, I basked in the glory of his perfection.

Today I discovered it, an imperfection. He smokes. I had suspected it from our first date. Well at least I think he does, but when I asked him he said he didn’t. He even wondered why I would ask such a thing. I told him because I smelled smoke in his car and faintly on him. Now it wasn’t strong, but I grew up with smokers so I can sniff it out. Since, I didn’t believe him I decided to get a second opinion. I had a friend come along on a date. Very cute you have to try it, it’s like highschool all over again when a friend tags along, it is very exciting because you try to do freaky things without being caught. Anyway, she advised that she didn’t smell smoke on him or in his car, but that he looked like he smoked. Huh? What does a smoker look like? Apparently my new crush. Well that wasn’t enough to go on, so I just asked him again. This time I ticked off all substances that could be smoked, but he stuck to his original response, no. He did admit to smoking an occasional cigar.

Now I’m thinking okay what is going on with me? Why do I smell smoke, and if I truly smell smoke can I be with him?  Is one thing enough to break up a perfectly happy situation? I have a list of now sixty three things and counting that I know I want in a man, twenty two of them are a must, seven are deal breakers and the rest just icing on the cake. Smoking is a deal breaker. I just don’t think I can deal with a smoker. However, he says he doesn’t smoke, but I’m like liar liar pants on fire. Wait, but what if he really doesn’t smoke? Then does that make me crazy? Especially since I smell smoke. If it’s not smoke, what the hell am I smelling? However this is serious because either he’s lying or I’m crazy.

If he does smoke I think I could convince him to quit smoking, but I don’t believe in making grown people do anything they don’t want to do. If it turns out that he does smoke, then we also have to deal with the fact that he lied. Ouch that’s a tough one, and this is in the beginning when there are no reasons to lie no bodies to bury…so it’s pointless. Why not be honest? Now if he doesn’t smoke I’m going to have to visit the doctor’s office and find out why I’m able to manifest non-existent smells.

Have I imagined something is wrong so that I can find a flaw in a perfectly good man so that I can make him normal? I don’t think I would consciously do this, but maybe my self conscious is out to sabotage my happiness. I believe that I may just be looking for something to gripe and complain about. I don’t want to get in my own way. I just know I may have to face an issue that I considered a deal breaker. If a suitor possesses a characteristic that is a deal breaker I am supposed to walk away. In this situation, I don’t believe that I should allow smoking to ruin a perfectly fine situation. 

Hello Stranger…

This is the first installment of a three part series.


There are days when the planets, moons and stars align and the heavens open up a momentary window for celestial blessings to fulfill the unknown desires of our little hearts. It was on one of these rare days that I ran into the second biggest crush of my life. Let’s just say a crush from my youth. The first time I saw him I was in awe, unable to move or take my eyes off of him. The first time he spoke to me I thought I was going pass out from sheer glee. We dated briefly before I went away to college. Things didn’t work out, but I can’t even say what really happened, we just fell out of touch. I have always wondered what would have happened.

I was out one Sunday night, at a pool hall of all places, when fate decided that our paths should cross. I was chatting it up with an associate when he walked over looking like a young Hugh Hefner all smoking jacket, suaveness and smelling good to say hello. I liked his swagger, I didn’t remember him having such presence or style, but that’s what growing up will do for you. I was instantly enchanted with him, it was like a spell came over me and I was transported back to my youth.

He seemed to be genuinely happy to see me as well. We spent the next hour catching up with one another. When my friend reminded me that I had to go to work the next day, I snapped out of it. I was sad I had to go. However, he made it all better by asking for my number, got him, HaHA! I gave it to him and he sent me a text later on saying he was happy that he ran into me.

The next day we talked and it was senior year all over again with all the butterflies and giggles and heart flutters and blushes and sighs and sheer excitement. I can’t help myself, all of the emotions and feelings from before immediately flooded back into my mind and I was instantly in LIKE.

Our second first date was even better than the first one. We had thai which we both like. This has to be noted because recently I have meet people who don’t like thai. Anyway we talked and talked and then talked some more. I don’t think either of us wanted to leave the restaurant, I know I didn’t.  

I want to be around him all the time. I just can’t help myself he is perfect. It’s weird because I can’t explain it, but it’s as if no time has passed. We just picked up where we left off.

Problem. I just don’t know if it’s the old him I remember and therefore am into or the new him the one I just met. I mean I know it’s partially based on a familiarity of what I remember, it is new, but yet it feels the same. I am experiencing the same passionate emotions, but it’s been ten years and what makes me happy now at version 2.8 is very different from what excited the younger version 1.8, but I know he has met me where I am now.  I really need to determine who I think I’m falling in serious like with. I admit that I’m a little off but he seems to get me, with all my excitement, off humor, unfounded nervousness and whatever else anyone finds strange, but he just acts like its all normal. I have seen more than one raised eye brow so it’s refreshing to have someone not react to my little oddities. I know that he has changed and I will need to get to know the new guy. I am already so into him, so I know that I will fall hard there is no doubt in my mind because it’s already happening.

God-Forsaken Hours…

During each day, there are unacceptable hours to accept calls from new suitors. I think one must establish a foot-hold on a new island to call after dusk, but one must capture the island to call after eleven.  Anytime before 11:00 pm is okay, if you call me at 10:59 pm then we are cool, but if you call at 11:00 pm we are going to have a problem.


I am not exactly sure how I arrived at 11:00 pm. No, I know. When I was a child 11:00 pm meant the news was coming on and it was too late for me to be up. If I was still up and around my Granny was not happy. I could be sitting on the couch with her at 10:55 pm, all hugs and giggles, but at 10:59 pm I had better be climbing into bed because the moment clock struck 11 it would be what are you doing up at this God-forsaken hour. When I was really little I thought something terrible happened to children after 11:00 pm.  Childhood is where the association started, and it would be hard to reverse my Granny’s training now. So whenever someone new calls me at 11:00 pm I almost snarl at the phone. Now there are slightly different rules on the weekend, I’m a little more lenient, I extend a five minute grace period until 11:05 pm.


Unfortunately there are some men who only want to talk late at night. I can’t do it. I will only make exceptions for individuals who get off their job at 11:00 pm. Funny that I have never met an individual who qualifies. So everyone had better call me during good Christian hours. However, with people working longer hours and having after work commitments, it is reasonable for someone to get home around 10:00 pm, get settled and then call after 11:00 pm. This is the situation that I currently find myself in. I have a really nice guy that I want to get to know better, but he won’t call til after 11:00 pm. Based on his conversations during the day it seems as if he is extremely busy after work and calls me when he has a moment to catch his breath. Since I won’t answer the phone when he calls he thinks I can’t hang and go to bed early. I haven’t told him that I gawk at the phone when he calls. I’m not sure if this is immature to keep this information from him, but I know he knows that he can’t call me that late.


I have attempted to help him see the light. I will call at 8 or 9 pm. I have even called at 10:45 pm, but it never works and I’m surprised he hasn’t caught the hint. Why can’t we have a conversation at say nine, why must he always call when I am most likely exhausted, sleepy, tired and prone to mutterings of nonsense? Plus 11:00 pm and later is reserved for your man or for your friend that acts as your man, I will call him the place holder since he is merely standing in until you get a real man. While typing that I realized that I need to stop spending time with the stand in, that’s time that could be used cultivating a relationship with a real man, but I digress. As a new suitor, doesn’t he know that he shouldn’t call that late? So it upsets me to no end that he thinks it is acceptable to call me at God-Forsaken hours and he expects to have a conversation.



Texting is the devil…

I have this theory on texting. Texting is the devil. This is my theory. I don’t think it’s an original idea, but I like to think I started calling it the devil first. Why do I call it the devil? Well see the devil comes to deceive and destroy. I think that text messaging deceives the participants into thinking they are having a conversation. Plus everyone has had a badly composed text send the completely wrong message or signal. Or even better the text goes to the WRONG recipient. This is often only remedied by a phone call or face to face conversation to explain the text. Sometimes for me none of this helps, and I end up destroying situations. So texting is the devil.

Before texting there was instant messenger, before that emailing, before that the telephone and before that I guess people were writing letters. Maybe we have come full circle? Writing, the remixed version, it’s condensed with a tight beat. Texting is also a joke because it allows people to have fake conversations. I mean how much can one convey in at max four short sentences? Well maybe a lot, but I don’t seem to find those who are eloquently succinct. I have come across those who think they can have entire conversations with me over text.

I know men LOVE to text. It’s like a sport to them. The fastest texters I know are men. They can run circles around me and I T-9 it. Plus most men don’t really like to talk a lot. They know it is necessary, and will do it, but would rather not. When they are texting they are able to communicate in the form they most desire, short statements.

There is one curious individual who will text me, I will immediately call, and he won’t answer, but will immediately send another text. Strange and perplexing. We do have entertaining and informational texting sessions. I believe that I have learned a lot, but there is no depth to what I know only surface things. I could tell you his favorite movie, but not say his favorite line or scene from the movie. I could tell you what he likes to do on the weekends, but not why he chooses to do those things.

There is another individual who is the worst. I can tell when he has cracked his knuckles and is getting fired up for a long texting session, it often starts with a text that includes more than two probing questions. When this happens I often text “call me.” This never elicits a response. Oh and I will only get another response if I send another text. It’s like he is thinking I can only text please not a dreaded phone call.  On the rare occasion that he does actually pick up the phone to call it will be a very very very brief conversation. We have the shortest conversations. They generally go something like this…

“Hello!!!” I always have lots of enthusiasm in my voice, this is probably what scares him to texting.

“Hi.” This is generally with no enthusiasm. Think that guy who does the eye drop commercials.

“What’s up?” This is said with a smile, so it sounds warm and inviting.

“Nothing, just wanted to see how you are doing?”

“I am lovely…,” but generally before I can finish the sentence or ask him how he is, he will respond with…

“Well I’m about to eat, go into this store, drive through a tunnel, say hey to my mother, etc. So I will talk with you later.”

WTH! Well then why did you call me? I never say this but its exactly what I am thinking. Maybe I will text that to him after he jumps off the phone. I just feel that if you know you are about to do something, do that first then call me. HaHA! Jokes on me! I guess this is why we always go back to texting.

I am a prude…

I was leaving the spa and literally ran over a fellow on my way out of the door. This is strange considering one uses a glass door to exit. Anyway, I must have been in my own world because as soon as I stepped out of the door, I ran into a brick wall of abs and chest. I said “Excuse me”, and Mr. Abs and Chest replied, “Slow down little lady you might just hurt yourself”. When I looked up to see who I had run into, I was instantly in awe of the deep dimple on his left cheek. I am generally a sucker for one key feature. I like dimples and dents of sorts on a man’s face. I think he realized that I was mesmerized, so he grinned back at me. I just smiled and my head tilted to the side. Next thing I know we are eating dinner. He was 36, new to the city and a lawyer. He was a little egotistical (well ego’s can’t be little, but confidence is good in a man), but he was easy on the eyes and he thought I was adorable. I don’t like when men use words like cute and or adorable because I am not a cuddly bear. However, I cut em’ some slack and just filed the comment away. I left dinner satisfied I had almost run him over because I don’t think we would have met otherwise.

He called the next day asking if I wanted to go to lunch and I was delighted. We had lunch that afternoon, which was followed by three more dinners, two desserts and coffee, a movie and a trip to home depot. It was after the trip to home depot that I started thinking this might be something. I never like to get ahead of myself, but I think when people start asking your opinion about the interior décor of their home they are pretty comfortable. When he invited me over to his house I accepted. I was eager to see what he had done with my advice.

He was putting the finishing touches on dinner when I arrived at his house. He had some jazz playing and the lights were a little dim. I will not go so far as to say they were dim, but it wasn’t above 30 watts. I was about to sit down when he suggested that I take a look around. I told him that I would be more comfortable if he gave me a personal tour of his house. He agreed to a quick tour. To say his house was nice was an under statement, I realized that he certainly didn’t need my advice. Strange thing was I couldn’t really take in the house because I was distracted by the national geographic influenced pictures and statues on display. I am a tad bit too conservative for my years. However, I thought geeze is any piece of art in this house clothed, maybe I need to round up some grape leaves. I know artistic nudity when I see it, but this wasn’t artistic. I remained calm and told him his place was very nice.  After my little tour, he left me in the living room. I sat down and looked at his coffee table which seemed harmless at first glance, some economists, business weeks and journals lay neatly on top. Glass compartments housed books of the how to please or be pleased variety. Maybe he just wanted to be well prepared no matter what situation he encountered. I can appreciate the man who wants to be thoroughly prepared. He came into the living room and asked me if I wanted something to drink. I agreed to what I thought would be some basic liquid, but he offered me two drinks with very erotic names, I can’t even type them here for fear of turning three shades of pink. I asked if he had something plain and simple like wine and he just chuckled. At this point, I’m thinking, what have I gotten myself into? But up until this point he never said anything fresh nor did we ever have any conversation of a sexual nature, so I was like don’t flatter yourself honey. We had get this “drop them drawers” chicken and rice. This time I chuckled. Nothing during our dinner conversation was out of the ordinary. So I began to calm down. After dinner, he asked if I wanted to play some pool. “Sure,” I replied. I was following him into what I assumed was his basement, when we got to the first landing and I was looking smack dab at the center of a woman’s glory framed on the wall. I blinked to refocus because I knew I was looking at something else. I had never been so close and intimate with my own glory, so it seemed inappropriate to stare. So I looked away, but I couldn’t move. He continued down to the second landing and turned around. I looked at him wildly and he looked at me calmly. I returned an are you serious look and he shot back a you have got be kidding me look. Since my glares weren’t working, I spoke. It would be better to say that I screeched and kind of croaked at the exact same time.

I said, “No”. A little, no it was way too loudly. I don’t know what I even meant by that.

To which he replied, “What?”

“No,” I screeched and croaked.

“Excuse me?”

“I don’t want to play pool”. Again, spoken way too loudly.

“Why?” He started coming back up the stairs.

I started backing up and I stammered out some incoherent statement, but I know it included something about “I have to leave now.”

He instantly looked sad, no maybe it was more like dejected, but I didn’t care. As I raced back up the stairs to gather my things, he followed and asked did I want to go some place else.

Again I looked at him wildly and another high pitched squeal escaped me, “No!”

I zoomed through his living room like a track star and grabbed my shoes, bag and coat in one swoop. I was out of the door in under fifteen seconds.

“Wait, you can’t leave, we haven’t had dessert.”  He said as he stood in the doorway to his home.

All I could get out as I got into my car was “No!”


If he wanted to kill me….

I recently received a trip invite from someone I have taken a curious interest in, but I haven’t known them, in my mind, for long enough for it to be safe to leave the state with them. Now I think it is humorous when someone suggests that I accompany them out of the state, the creation of the FBI and the necessity for the Mann Act always prance across the mental landscape. The key is that since I increased my dating range, I have seen a significant upswing in the number of interesting and unique opportunities I have to review. The spike in trips has made it necessary to review my current process for handling these types of requests. It seems to be a common practice, and I am the one who makes it a big deal. In general I don’t want to raise expectations and don’t want to feel obligated to be nice or accommodating.

Plus of course there are the normal blinking, flashing concerns:

a)      he just wants to sleep with me

b)      he wants to impress me, since he can’t successfully do it at home

c)      he wants to sell me into slavery

d)      he wants to kill me

However, now I am beginning to get these on such a regular basis that I am trying to determine why I don’t chose to take any one up on the offer.


So I was talking to my co-worker about this trip invite and going on and on about why I shouldn’t go, but how I wanted to go. When she said,

“If he wanted to kill you or sell you he could do it here, right down the street.”

“It’s just that if he wanted to do something he could really just do it here, he doesn’t have to take you some where else.”

I stared blankly.

I looked at her blankly because I was really thinking about what she said. I mean it made perfectly good sense, but I kept thinking about being the dumb girl who goes to a hotel room at two in the morning to talk. Is all the concern and alarm just in my head? Why am I so concerned that if I leave the state suddenly my safety will be in jeopardy? Why do I always get anxious or suspicious when someone invites me out of town? If I am willing to go to brunch, lunch or dinner with someone and let them pick me up in their car, what am I really afraid of? I keep thinking pace your self, I just don’t know exactly what I am pacing.

I am a decent judge of character (working on becoming an excellent judge) and haven’t come across anyone that I have gone on more than one date with that I thought might be certifiably crazy, sketchy or suspect. Once someone has passed the three date test its pretty much smooth sailing until we hit a wave, iceberg, a storm or he is kicked out the boat. If I am already spending time with them, changing locations doesn’t really make a difference. It also just dawned on me that a trip would allow more good old fashioned face time, which would allow me to decide more quickly if I should invest more time. I know that I think no matter how nice someone seems a sinister side could always lurk beneath. However, if I keep an eye on my surroundings, locate all exits, and bring my American Express card I should be just fine. Plus if I only have one life to live, once my time is up it’s up, what location I am in won’t really matter.

Are you taking a date?

This post is sort of old since it didn’t happen recently, but I think it’s funny since I received an email today in regards to an event I have to attend. 

About two months ago a kind, sweet friend of mine sent me an email requesting the name of the guest I planned to bring to her wedding. Now I love her dearly, but I was thinking dang isn’t your wedding over two months away? I told her that I didn’t know who I was going to bring, but I knew I was bringing someone. I asked her to put Mr. Wedding Date on my on my guest’s seating card. See I’m not one of those girls who wants to go to a wedding myself. I don’t want to end up matched with a poor simp because we are both at the wedding alone. I started thinking who do I invite? You would think two months would be plenty of time to find a date, but I was thinking this girl is killing me. Someone who is entertaining, witty, confident and photogenic should be easy to find in two months. Right? Wrong! The major issue is that I generally like to receive a little attention after I arrive home from a wedding. There is a very short list of possibilities for this position, not for lack of desire, but for fear of trying. So I call what I believe to be my best shot for some after wedding affection. He answers the phone like he is actually happy to hear from me which was totally unexpected. I asked, he said yes and I thought okay this is great. Now I have a date. He even made a point of asking if it was an overnight wedding and whether we needed to get a room. Yessssss! I thought excellent we are on the same page. When he called on Valentine’s day to wish me a happy V-day I practically fell out. I was WAY too eager to answer the phone, I hope he didn’t hear the enthusiasm in my voice. Why so much emotion? I have a crush, a little baby crush, but a crush indeed. What’s funny is that in the very beginning, when we first met, I didn’t even like him. I was just getting over my ex-fiance and he was literally something to do. Now I have a crush on him like I’m back in grade school. If I see his name in my phone I am all giggly and I haven’t seen him in ages. So after the V-Day greeting I think maybe he is open to something.  What man would dangle a valentine greeting unless they were a little bit interested? If you are not interested do not tease a single woman. I decided I would show him a little bit more attention. I always get I don’t seem to be the least bit interested, so I think okay that’s what I will do, show interest and concern. We texted, and talked a few times, and I even suggested more than once that we get together. I even offered home cooked food. I thought all men are suckers for a home cooked meal, but still no man. We had not connected and I was sad. Sad isn’t really the word, I was irritated. So about a week ago, in a fit of rage, after being shot down after yet another attempt to get us together, I told him that I no longer needed a date. What did I get today? An email from another dear friend asking me if I am bringing a date to our friends wedding. @$%#&!!!! I don’t have a date! 

I could have had a V8….

I used extremely poor judgment yesterday. I went out with someone who puzzles me to no end. I like them, but I believe there is a some type of disconnect on my part in expressing my desire to devour this man. I am completely convinced that he doesn’t like me. This can’t be confirmed because he calls and texts, so I think that maybe he just wants amusement. However, who reads a book if they don’t like the main character or plays a game if they dislike the rules, just pick something else. I would rather someone just let me know instead of humoring me because it causes confusion. I recently decided to back off, left him alone, at first I thought I won’t even respnd if he calls, emails or texts. So I wasn’t totally surprised when he called, cause all men will call, but I was surprised with my response of unabashed excitement. Although now the question is did my little silent hibernation elicit a response? I was happy when he suggested that we get together, and he invited me to a poetry reading. Cool something different, but yet familiar. I went through my love jones phase back in college. During that time it was unacceptable not try and get in touch with one’s inner poet. Everyone is not a poet, but you couldn’t tell by our regular attendance at poetry readings. Plus I thought it would be fun since I hadn’t been to a poetry reading in ages.

I didn’t know what to wear. I know that looking earthy doesn’t work for me, so I just decide to wear jeans and a shirt. I went through three jeans and shirt outfits. One was too prissy for a poetry reading, the other too militant for me and the last one was just plain ugly. I ended up going with something that reminded me of what a j.crew cowgirl might look like. I put makeup on and then took it off. I thought anything more than mascara and gloss would be too much for a poetry reading. Natural beauty is more accepted on the pseudo-underground scene. Anyway what was all this concern especially for someone who I had decided wasn’t interested? All I knew was that I was excited and I felt like I was preparing for my close up literally and figuratively.

He picked me up and I am certain that he saw the glee and joy in my eyes, but I tried to remain calm and cool. While writing this I just realized that maybe my eagerness to see and please was written across my forehead and that IS the problem. When we arrived I discovered that he reserved a table on Friday, but considering we didn’t make plans until Saturday I realized damn I’m just the insert girl here date. I didn’t care, I’m was just happy to be out with him. We sat down for a night of spoken word. At these types of events there are two types of poets: activist or lovers. Some day I want to go to a poetry reading and hear someone recite a poem about something simple liking eating their favorite food or their favorite toy as a child. I’m sure someone could come up with something tight about a nintendo. Of course there were several poems about just plain raunch and then there were the nice clean love poems. However, there was one in particular that fell in the middle that involved a guitar and it just hit the spot. And maybe it doesn’t take much these days because it’s been a while, actually let me be honest a loooooong time. Watching old people hold hands might excite me at this point. Also the fact that every so often he gave my thigh a nice, firm squeeze wasn’t helping. I realized dang I was getting excited. I tried to think thoughts about the laundry at my house, the magazines I needed to look through, the fact it’s Sunday and I had to return to work the next day. To my disappointment, none of this worked and then I started thinking this was done intentionally. Well if it was it worked because on the ride home I kept thinking about all kinds of delectable naughtiness. It required all my will power to keep from asking him what was his favorite position and could we pull over to try it.


So when we arrived at my house, my mind was racing. What do I say? Do I invite him up? This is the last stop on the line and I have to get off. While all these thoughts were racing through my mind, he just pulled in front of my elevator. He didn’t park, Dang! We got out of the car, he gave me a hug and a kiss on my CHEEK and merrily sent me on my way. He practically hopped and skipped back to his car. In the elevator, on the way to my home, I realized this had to be how guys felt at the end of an evening when the girl gives them a kiss on the cheek…goes into her house and locks the door behind her. The joke was totally on me! I had smooth, freshly shaven legs, no man and I was hot as h#ll. It really serves me right, since I should have left him alone. I should have never gone out with him in the first place. He isn’t interested.