Just My Thoughts on why Men Cheat...

So...I'm having this convo with my coworker about why men cheat and I was really trying to be objective too. You know, get inside their heads and really empathize. Steve Harvey said men cheat because they can. Wow, that's simple and profound at the same time. They cheat, because they can. Let that sink in for a minute. Because as simple as that statement is, it is worth a thousand words worth of comments.


I think I've come to a conclusion that men cheat because it's "just sex" to them. Cheating because they can implies that they do the shit on purpose, with malice if you will. I don't honestly believe they do it for that reason. It's just sex. Not only is it "just sex" to them but it's free, easy, no strings attached sex. Which makes it infinitely more appealing- I'm sure.


But alas... under all those layers of adjectives lies the truth of the matter...they cheat because some mother's daughter is always willing to offer up the free, easy, no strings attached goods. They don't just cheat because they can. They cheat because we let them. They cheat because we don't respect each other enough to leave that "taken, spoken for" man alone.


Alright! Alright! I hear you...sometimes they lie and you don't know they're married or dating exclusively. I get that (and that is a whole other blog topic). I'm speaking about the ones we know- beyond a shadow of a doubt are taken. You know, the ones that have on a ring and junk. You know...pictures of the same woman on their desks and in their cubes. You'd better act like you know- 'cause you do! Okay so the foundation has been erected (no pun intended).


And away we go...



I can just hear the conversation now..."Giiiirrrrrrrrrrl I just got to give him some! I don't care if he is married. He is fine!!" What she don't know, won't hurt her..." Hmpf!

Now see? That's just sick and wrong. And there you go falling all over yourself 'cause he's so fine that when you see him coming- you die and reincarnate as Jed Clampett from the Beverly Hillbillies: "Weeeeeeeeeeellllll Doggie!" or better yet EllieMae, "Paw? Can I keep this critter???"


Let's just get it out on the table shall we? It's much , much easier to cheat (excuse me- cause to cheat) with an attractive man. For some odd reason we get it twisted as if his being fine is a more reasonable excuse for violating the laws of matrimony, common law marriage and/or committed relationship ties (take your pick). Yes, he is fine- I'll give you that- but it's still wrong girl!


Would you want some other feline purring around YOUR man??? If not, I suggest you retract your claws and scratch on your own post at home. Nuff said? Awesome- you are a smart cookie, worthy of some sort of award (how about your OWN man insted of somebody else's?).


So, getting back to the "just sex" part- 'cause I got side tracked. He's just wandering along, at work, at the grocery store(where ever) then suddenly he finds himself in the web of a tiny orb weaving spider. Thought I was gonna say BLACK WIDOW SPIDER didn't you? Right! She would be waaaaay too easy to spot. Thusly, he would stay away from her because he might get caught.


No, it's those quiet, well meaning "orb weaving" heffas that dole out the free, easy, no strings attached sex. His "friend" at the office that he eats the lunch you made for him with. She had it in for him from day one. And when he does get involved with her, he's dumb enough to think she feels exactly as he does (This is "just sex" you and I are having. Nothing more).


God... this is starting to sound like a freakin' comedy... a body could drown in all his naivete' or lack of planning skills. Guys are very linear in their thinking and they compartmentalize things well. His wife/girlfriend/partner/family is in one compartment and the Orb Weaver is in another and never the two shall meet. He's just having sex with her as a courtesy and...AND because she made it super simple and easy for him (G. Garvin reference).


The thought of his significant other EVER finding out, let alone being upset regarding his infidelity does not cross his mind. Hence, he is genuinely shocked when she does find out and is equaly dumbfounded when she declares : I'm leaving your ass for cheatin' on me!"

And away we go...

Ahh... I can just hear the convo now: "Baby, it was just sex. She doesn't mean anything to me. It was just sex. Please believe me. I love YOU!!!" Poor, unfortunate soul...

Men (in my opinion) really do think of the act of having sex outside of a relationship as being separate and apart from their otherwise committed relationship. However, this only applies when they are the ones doing the cheatin'. This little exception clause is a luxury not afforded women. The Glass Ceiling raises its ugly hand in the room-yet again.


What they fail to realize is that we connect the act and the feeling together so when we are cheated on- we feel betrayed and when we are cheated with- we feel entitled. So not only is he losing the woman he really loves, he's gaining the Orb Weaver (and he doesn't really want you Orbie- he just wants to take advantage of all that "free love" you're dishing up). He never intended for things to end up this way. From his vantage point this shit is a disaster!


Just keep saying...it's only a movie, it's only a movie. Click your heels 3x and you'll be home Dorothy. Maybe that will help. Golly, he almost appears innocent in a warped, twisted kind of way. Afterall...he is fine. Right? There is nothing new under the sun and this scenario is cyclical in nature. That's the baffling part. You would think they would talk each other out of doing this shit over and over again. If the lesson is not learned you are doomed to repeat them mistake. See below:


Man is in a committed relationship and homelife is good, man gets a new coworker, man starts talking more to coworker, coworker begins weaving in an orb-like fashion while simultaneously showcasing free, easy, no strings attached sex, man is enamored and, not looking both ways when crossing eats of the forbidden fruit. Everything goes well for a time, THEN the Orb Weaver begins to look and ask for more. More (That's the entitlement reaction I mentioned earlier). Orbie wants more and the man is not prepared to give more because - THAT WAS NEVER HIS INTENT. His expressed intention was to just have sex. Nothing more, nothing less.


It was not his intent to hurt his wife or significant other (they're in a different compartment remember?). Again, from his vantage point: "How in the hell did this shit happen???" My guess would be that he really is sorry that he cheated (with this girl) and he really is sorry that his significant other found out. In short, he's really sorry that he got caught because it was just sex. It didn't mean anything to him. He was merely "relieving" himself of some mild sexual buildup. Kind of like going to the bathroom- is all.


So in his mind all this fuss about cheating does not compute. What's the big deal afterall? To reiterate:
He committed this heinous act because of the following:


1. Because he can (Per Steve Harvey)

2. Because we let him (Me)

3. Because it's just sex (Me)



Might I suggest that if there were no number 2 we wouldn't have to worry about 1 and 3? Hmmm...you do realize where I'm going with this right? RIGHT. If we as women would band together to eliminate No. 2 there would be no need to discuss this topic ever again.

You have powers beyond measure. Use them.



Be Well

Whacky yet candid thoughts...

OK...so about 3 hours ago I swore (on Twitter) that I was gonna blog because I'm practicing becoming a writer as that's what I want to be when I finally grow up. However, it has taken an additional hour for all the dust to settle in order for me to do so.



Whew! I'm so glad to finally be at my desk hammering away at said keys- off loading my chest (as it were). Albeit there is a lot to be offloaded where that is concerned (to know me is to love me- ALL of me figuratively). Gawd! I love being me... (ting!)



OK...back to blogging. The Verve Remixed version of the song "Manteca" by Dizzy Gillespie just ended and I am currently listening to the remix of "Sinnerman" by Nina Simone. All I can say is O-M-G!!!!!!! So freakin' awesome. It's like being drawn into a vortex. The repetitive loop of her keyboard hook and her powerful, haunting question "Oh, Sinnerman? Where you runnin' to?" with that techno, house beat behind it is "trance"-forming. Yep, it's that kind of night for me.



I need this so desperately. To be drawn into another world of my own choosing. To just be free to let the music take me where ever it pleases. I imagine myself in a ruffly Senorita dress (all satin and lace) with a rose clenched between my teeth, smoky, alluring eyes...I slowly but pointedly walk over to him and say "Whatever Lola wants, Lola gets!! You're no exception to the rule! I'm irresistable you fool- give in..." Wait...that's song #3.



Today was a strange disjointed kind of day. I didn't have anything planned and that wasn't a good thing to do. A body should plan to do at least one thing each day (even if it's to do nothing). Even doing "nothing" takes planning- in the sense that you actually "speak" your aspiration to do nothing into being. When you say I'm am not going to do anything today except lay around and waste time- at least you have a goal in mind. But to spend an entire day wandering around the house is kinda pathetic.



Wait, I did plan to sleep in today but didn't do it. Now I really feel like a loser. Oh well. It is what it is. Is it not? Ha! What the hell. Happens to the very best of us so I won't sweat it. It's 8:45pm and I have nothing left to do except talk to you and listen to music. Oh, I have been contemplating locing my hair. What do you think? I know, I know- think long and hard about it. I was told that about braids. Come to think of it, I was once told that I'm not a "braid" person but I had to prove them wrong on that one too. What's a woman with braids look like anyHOO??? Freakin' stereotypes is all that is.




Amazing is all I can say. We are so quick to slap labels on others, then drop them in "our" carefully labeled boxes. Eckhart Tolle was right. The minute we put a label on something, we think (and falsely believe) that we know what that thing is. The danger in that is when we label something and falsely believe we know what the thing is, we cease trying to understand or learn anything new from the said thing.



We arrogantly believe that there is nothing more to be gained from something we have already defined. How sad that is. How limiting and stifling that is. So I already know there will be a steady stream of peeps equally surprised, shocked and bewildered when I make that leap from the safe haven of societal hair acceptance into my own loving arms of self acceptance. There will be no explaining it to the nay sayers UH-Gin (again). Felt a translation was in order there.



I have a poem glued to the back cover of my vision book that goes like this:



The time will come

when, with elation,

you will greet yourself arriving

at you own door, in your own mirror,

and each will smile at the other's welcome,

and say, sit here. Eat.

You will love again the stranger who was your self.

Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart

to itself, to the stranger who has loved you

all your life, whom you ignored

for another, who knows you by heart.

Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,

the photographs, the desperate notes,

peel you own image from the mirror.

Sit. Feast on you life.



God almighty...I pray in earnest that I have the courage and strength (the backbone) to greet myself at my own door and become the woman that I am on the inside (writer, cheerleader, raw foodie, world traveler, visionary, motivational speaker, artist, encourager, philanthropist, dream home owner, Mini Cooper driver, pianist, guitarist crafter and lover of lap cats and books).


What I am learning, as I look at my life, is that my life- me goes on. It is continuing to happen with or without my expressed participation. To not participate is to waste valuable time. To not greet myself at my own door, leaving me hanging and desperate is rude and inconsiderate. I wouldn't do that to someone else so why, why do I do it to myself?



More importantly, why do you do it to yourself? We're knocking at our own doors. And WE aren't letting US in. Interesting concept huh? I know right??? Geez... I will open my door to myself, invite me in, and offer myself a large serving of "Fried Neckbones and Some Home Fries"- that's cut #10 by Willie Bobo. It's folkin' infectious!! It has a Latin beat to it with a solo trumpet to die for. Sorry- it was getting heavy and I think you get my meaning (dead horse to be beaten at a later date). Smile. Be happy my dear- it's your time.



This was a good musical choice to blog to. Verve does a lot of remixes and their website is worth checking out. They have quite a few cutting edge things to offer. You can find good stuff outside of iTunes (contrary to popular belief). Okay my music is winding down and I my TweetDeck is chirping. I am ending my blog session with a funky, time warpy remix of "Mama" by Hugh Masakela. Ba-Pa- Baba- Daaaaaaaaaaaah!! (that's how the horns sound).



Be Well

A Quick Jaunt to NC...

If you read the blog regarding surgery you will know that my mom had hip replacement surgery just a few short weeks ago. I am happy to report that she is doing Grrrrrrrrr-eat (as Tony the Tiger used to say). Her doctor gave her a “get-out-of-jail” card today and we checked her out of In Patient rehab for the day.

She was so happy to be home. She stretched herself across her bed and simply soaked it all in. I believe luxuriate would be a good way to describe what she did. Mom will be fully discharged in 2 days and we are all grateful for her progress and tenacity to get well. I wasn’t aware that Mom would be discharged while I was home but am so glad that I can be here for her. It’s what you call “bad” perfect timing.

It’s bad because I currently have a negative 12 hour leave balance and it also happens to be very busy at work and it’s perfect because I am home and can be here for her. God…I have to ask for another day off. You know what? It is what it is. I can’t avoid it so I’m not even going to try. The truth stands alone just like the cheese. I will call my boss tomorrow. I have in my favor that I told her boss that my Mom had surgery and that I would be traveling to NC. I think he’ll remember. He’s a good egg- as they say.

Mom’s “get-out-of jail” card has expired for the day and so my brother has taken her back to the facility. Until tomorrow… We will pick her up before lunch just after her morning therapy session. The house is quiet now. My brother is off to visit friends and I am left to my own devices. I am having a cold Michelob Ultra (not my usual choice of beer- but it serves the purpose) and am about to watch the pilot episode of “The No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency”. I can hardly wait. I read the book and really enjoyed it (I recommend it) I’m told that season one was soooooo good (even India Arie said she loved it) so, I plan to savor every scene.

All in all it has been a good day and the end will be just as good. I want for nothing as I sit here upon this bed, in these familiar surroundings. The porcelain dolls, the green letter holder, the whir of the ceiling fan. All of things make up home and serve as an endless supply of inspiration and comfort.

My quick jaunt to NC is turning out to be a mini vacation of sorts. “Head clearing” comes to mind. My own little oasis- right here at home. Life is good.

I’m digging in for a large slice of “The No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency”. Get your copy on DVD or better yet- read the book. No wait…do BOTH (cause my girl Jill Scott is the lead character- and we need to support a sister).
Be Well

My Image is in a Strange Frenchman's Camera (and other things that happpened today)

It’s 12:37 pm and all is well with me in the world. I have just returned from picking up takeout from what is fast becoming my favorite restaurant in the area. I am feasting on Ginger glazed carrots, Spicy Brocolini, Saffron rice and Grilled Asparagus. I am in veggie heaven right now. Aside from the fact that it is delicious it is also nutritious.
While I was waiting for my food, I noticed a group of 4 people sitting at the bar- three men and one woman. They looked a little disheveled and I couldn’t help noticing that the two men on the end were both staring at me. They smiled when I placed my order. My first thought was that they were judging me-maybe trying to figure out what I was doing there. It wasn’t until I noticed the taller of the two get up and take a picture of me that I realized they were tourists from France. I gathered this bit of information listening to them converse back and forth. Of course, the fact that a picture was taken got my attention as well.

How bizarre. My image is on the hard drive of the camera of a strange, disheveled Frenchman. I’m not quite sure I know how to take that. It’s not really anything I can control is it? I suppose it’s no different than paparazzi taking pictures of celebrities. We just expect it to happen to them- not to “us”. After all, why would a complete stranger want to take a picture of “us”? When I say “us” I mean the rest of all of “us” – minus the celebrities. We are all in the same boat on this one.

Now I am thinking about all those pictures I have of Dhani Jones in my cube at work. I have 4 pictures of Dhani Jones hanging in strategic locations (I might add) in my cube. I wonder how that would make him feel. It would probably weird him out. He must feel like a piece of meat when he reads all those comments that women leave him on his website and Twitter (Dhani- if you’re reading- please follow me- puh-leeeeeeeeeez!). Okay, I’m back. Where was I?

Yeah- the whole stranger taking pictures of you syndrome is kind of unnerving. So… that’s what it feels like to be a celebrity. You walk around in a daze and nutso-crazo people follow your every move, take photographs of you and get paid lots of money for it. Hmmm…my experience wasn’t quite like that but you get the picture. No pun intended…(god- I crack me up).
My coworker says it’s illegal to take photos of people in public places and then my mom said he may use your head on another person’s body (oh that made me feel really good). But then, I thought about my pose at the time the photograph was taken. He would be hard pressed to use that head on anybody else’s body but mine.

I prefer to think of him as a famous photographer from France, here on holiday that can’t stop himself from taking pictures of fabulous, gorgeous, American women (who just happen to walk into restaurants and order lunch at the precise moment he can no longer contain himself).

A girl can only hope. In any case, if you see a photograph of an unbelievably beautiful woman (with her chin cupped in her hand, looking up at a TV, in a restaurant setting- holla back- cause it’s your giiiiiiirl!

Be Well

My Mom's Surgery...

On August 25th my Mom had hip replacement surgery. It was a pleasant (if you can say that about surgery) experience. I arrived the day before. Both my brother and one of my sisters were already at her house. Mom seemed to be in good spirits but I could tell that she was out of sorts. Her hair needed to be redone so, in an effort to cheer her up and lift her spirits I offered to do it for her. Doing her hair always made her feel better but I could tell that she was still feeling out of sorts.

I worked as fast as I could and we were able to get a full head weave done in about 3 hours (counting taking out the old weave, washing her hair and weaving the new stuff). She was happy about the way it turned out but needed to go to bed (considering the circumstances). It was 11:30 or so before she finally laid her head down.

She was the first one up on the day of the surgery. I would say it was about 5:15am when she awoke. She woke me up at 5:30 and I managed to drag myself from the bed at 5:45. She was due to arrive at the hospital at 6:30am and since the hospital was close there was no need to rush. She managed to get a few minutes of her favorite soap opera in (The Bold and the Beautiful) before we left(she records them via DVR). Funny how something so small could be so comforting at a time like that. I watched with her- not wanting to miss a moment with her. Just wanted her to be okay.

Once she was prepped for surgery they allowed us all to come back. I, my brother Tony and my sister Pamela sat with her in a small room where we laughed and talked about universal healthcare and a myriad of other topics. We also didn’t pass up an opportunity to discuss our President. He is and always will be a source of great pride and joy-particularly for my Mom.

When they came to take her back to the OR waiting room it was decided that I should go back with her as they could only take one person back there. It was good to make her laugh before the surgery and Bernadette (her pre-op nurse) was great- what a wonderful bed side manner she had. So aside from the IV, mom received something called a “Symphony”. Since she was having hip replacement surgery she would need some of her own blood to coax the little cells around the new hip to grow and rejuvenate. They took blood for that.

The Anesthesiologist explained that they would be doing a spinal block on her as a standard procedure. She would also have a few electrode patches on her hip to counteract pain. We discussed briefly how this “little” electrode machine probably cost the insurance company a small fortune but she was covered for it so we didn’t question it or worry about it. Yet another reason why we need universal healthcare so that all people can be covered. We used the hospital’s new surgical tracking system to follow Mom through surgery to the recovery room. Cape Fear Medical Center (formerly known as Café Fear Valley Hospital) has come a very long way indeed. In any case the new tracking system helped to cut down on a lot of worry and questions.

People sent texts as I sat in the waiting room- waiting for my sweetie to get her new hip. As time went on I began to fiend for coffee and soon made my way down to the Starbucks kiosk for some brew ski. A grande soy latte and a pack of fig newtons would have to suffice until lunch. My brother and my sister forsook the waiting room in search of something more substantial to eat. I returned planning to meet them later once #5307 changed to PACU IN or PHASE I (ORANGE).
In the new color code system that meant she would be in recovery and I could rest a little easier.

The waiting room television was showing the local news. “Mr. Food”- on Channel 11 was giving us a recipe for Doubly Chocolate cookies. The thought of “God, we eat sooooooo unhealthily in our society. Our self indulgent ways are gonna do us in“ crossed my mind. I was getting sleepy and would have loved to eat one of those cookies right then (truth be told). Go figure.

It wasn’t long before I was summoned by a nurse. Mama was doing fine and she was surprisingly alert having just come out of major surgery. No pain but I was convinced she would be hungry. I had a chance to speak with her and as she smiled at me she said I'll see you upstairs. Mom in able hands, post surgery, I headed off to the cafeteria to find my sister and brother to give them the good news: Mama is a-okay and on the way to her room. I was able to eat then. I settled in for a lunch of broccoli and rice with a vitamin water. It was good and I was in good company with my brother and sister.

We sat outside to soak up the sun and breeze after lunch before returning inside. It was early still and Mama had not yet made it to her room. My siblings stayed outside for a smoke and I opted to head for the 7th floor to meet Mom on the way to her room. When she finally did arrive she was in good spirits and wide awake.

She was hungry as I supposed and since her food was on the way, I gave her the piece of fruit that was in my purse. She looked great and said she was relieved to finally be done with the surgery. My Mother is one of the bravest women I know.

She faced down her fears at the tender age of 69 and got her hip replaced. She had both knees replaced 4 years earlier. She meets her challenges head on but she has one of the softest hearts I know of. She is my rock and the crown jewel of our family. She is Mama. And I love her with all my heart. May she live to out last her new hip.

Be Well

A Dream Deferred...

Langston Hughes said it best when he asked what happens to a dream deferred. What does happen when a dream is deferred? Onelook.com defines “deferred” in the following manner: “To submit or yield to another’s wish or opinion. To hold back to a later time. Hmmm…despite its bleakness there is some hope in being deferred. You’re just being put off until sometime later. Your ship will come in afterall, it just might take you a wee bit longer to take that cruise. God…MY ship will come in. My dream is only deferred, placed on hold by some divine intervention. Maybe placed on hold by my own intervention.

I am the master of my universe so says the teachers of the Secret and The Law of Attraction. I can have, do or be anything that I want. I just need to speak it up and out to the Universe. Because I believe this is true, I will speak my deferred dream up and out into the Universe. I will declare that it will be so and I will move forward and live my life as if it were so. I’ll have my cake and eat it too. Hell, I’ll bake my own cake. What sense is there in waiting around for someone else to do it for me? I will have Zen moments enough to tame to most savage of beasts. I will be happy and healthy and rich. I will have my house, my car and my bling (and my timeshare).

My dream is no longer deferred. It is happening right now. I want it so bad I can taste it. It is my goal to want it even more. I will turn up the intensity and be more focused. I am feeling free to want what I want how and when I want it! Damn everybody who tries to stop me. Why are people trying to stop me? It’s as if they think I don’t deserve it or shouldn’t have what they have or that my ideas are way too lofty; that I just need to get my head out of the clouds. They are nay-sayers and they don’t even realize it. Forgive the Father for they know not what they do. As stated by the first definition, deferred can also mean to submit or yield to another’s wishes or opinions.

To that definition I say hell to the naw! At least not lately. No one seems to have my expressed best interest at heart so why should I yield to them? Right. That shit just doesn’t make any sense when you look at it like that. When it comes to your future- you are the only one truly vested in it. All the other people should be considered as incidentals. Sure, some help more than others but ultimately it’s your life and your decision.

OMG…I think I might be unhappy right….now…for just this tiny space of time. I feel a great loss. I feel angry and I want to scream until my throat hurts regarding my dream. No one will take it from me. I will self actualize and be everything that my heart desires that I be.
I will drink my wine at my leisure and my assistant will make travel arrangements for me. I will dine on fine vegetarian cuisine at the best restaurants and my driver will take me there. I will never have to take a cab or depend on the subway. I will explore exotic places and my nuclear family will want for nothing. My brother won’t have to work and my sisters won’t have to work and my mother can enjoy a full retirement. My dream is not just for me but for my family too. I want for them what I want for myself. Financial freedom and stability. I want to be rich.

Golly, I just had an epiphany… I must re-read “The Science of Getting Rich” by Wallace Wattles. If you have not read this book I suggest you do. In it he states the following: “There is a thinking stuff from which all things are made, and which, in its original state, permeates, penetrates, and fills the interspaces of the universe. A thought, in this substance, produces the thing that is imaged by the thought. Man can form things in his thoughts and by impressing this thought upon formless substance, can cause the thing he thinks about to be created.”

Thoughts become things. Man becomes what he thinks about. I want to be rich therefore I think about being rich. I think about my dreams and aspirations. My dream is no longer deferred. It is alive and in living color. I will reach for it because it is my own.
Be Well