What Is A Beautiful Woman Like You Standin’ Here By Yourself For?

Contrary to what the brothers in my life have said there is not a line of men I have to beat back with a stick every time I walk out the door. Honestly, I think that the fellas are full of it because for some reason we can’t hook up. I have had several unhappy men tell me… “if you were there then…”. Now they got a baby mama or have been seeing someone exclusively for decades and haven’t made the move to marry ‘em or move on. Recently my girl, Zuri and I were talking. We went through the “we are attractive, intelligent, witty, playful, charming young women” conversation. So why does bozo the clown have a man and we don’t? (Sometimes it goes like this… ‘Awwww there is hope for us, look at that beautiful couple over there…’ but often times we aren’t that nice.)

I am confident, fun, vibrant, talented, like a good meal… can cook a good meal every now and again I have conversation AND big boobs. I mean damn it, I got it going on. But men do not approach me and if they do it is not for my intellect or fabulous personality. Mind you I am not putting the boobs on display that is just how God put me together. I see it as an added bonus to everything else. Men just see it.

I posed the question to one of my male friends, ‘Why don’t guys approach me?’ His comments were thought provoking. D told me, to paraphrase, “You are always around a bunch of dudes, if a man sees you in the company of a group of guys he is normally trying to figure out which guy is ‘hittin it’.”

SO… I adjust.

I say ‘Hi’ to my male friends from a distance when there are prospects in the room. To no avail. Instead Cute Guy #1 is off in the corner sucking in the fumes of a cigar penis thinking he is cool and Sexy Guy #2 is standing on the dance floor, trying to see through the dark ass shades he decided to wear to the club, in the way of me getting it in and working my glutes.

So dancing invites ogling and sitting by myself at the bar invites men trying to jump me in line for some liquid fire water. Obviously, they don’t have enough hair on their chest to holla.
I try to go to new places, be open and available without being desperate and needy. But there never seems to be anyone in the museum when I go, and walking down K Street during lunch time is a bust because all the “corporate” brothas are too damn fly to holla. The idea of “he’s just not into you” is always in the back of my head but there has to be at least one who is. Right?
Another male friend said “Wait for it… He will come.” (he is another story that may find the way into a book some day) “When the time is right you will be like damn!”

* I am like ‘DAMN’ now. *

I am not just trying to jump on ANYONE. I do have some decorum. I know “everything happens for a reason” etcetera, etcetera. But where are my people in the wings? Bammas are not returning phone calls, say I ‘overtext’ them or stare and say nothing. What is that? No one has even said, “Hey, wanna go to the movies?, I’ll buy the popcorn, heifer?”

Nothing. Nada.
Maybe my dating pool is too small. I mean I like DC but maybe I have to jump on the Mega or Bolt bus to get a larger dating pool; though long distance relationships can be depressing… or expensive.

Everything would be much easier if at birth your significant other was mapped out. You had his number and at 16 you began your courtship and married somewhere down the line. It wouldn’t be arranged it would be destined. The universe would say Kimberly Christina born September 17, 19blah,blah,blah (a lady never tells her age ) will marry/mate with/love/”belong to” Blankity Blank born November 7, 19blazay, blah. The two of you would grow up and just know whenever it was time to “settle down” . You would call one another up and be like “ok we should set a date or something” maybe have dinner first, talk about a few things, hang out. OR there should be a sealed envelope kept in a safety deposit box with his name in it so at least you would know who your soul mate was. Daily OVERT hints for me at this point would work.


All of that to say Mr. Right/Mr. Right-Now/Mr. Right-Over-There hasn’t so much as said a ‘bitch-you-are-standing-in-the- way- of- the -girl -with -the -fat –ass’ to me. And I am not going to talk about me approaching a man… to aggressive, intimidating, condescending (long story on this one). Standup, be a man and grow some. I mean you are really damned if you do damned if you don’t.

Sometimes I like to call my husband-to-be-determined, Khalid, you know just so he is tangible in my head. I thought at one point I had actually conjured him up when a met a man by the same name.

Hey didn’t we meet the other day? Who are you shooting for? (photographer speak)
Yeah at the fashion thing. Freelance. Get any good shots?
Eh… Fashion is not my expertise.

I knew it was kismet. That he was my …
… my wife and I are about to have another baby so I am hustlin’ on these photo jobs.

Wait did you just say… wife… ANOTHER baby?

OK so maybe naming him is dangerous. For years, I have been going to this vendor on Connecticut Ave fly jewelry, masks, purses, my connect! He never wants me to leave his stand. He says “I like you! You are not like those skinny women. I like women thick like you. When are we going to get married?”

At the rate things are going… real soon!