Curiosity Killed The Dog (Part 2)

Raise of hands—who's watched Love on the Spectrum?

If you haven't, please prioritize doing so. The way they approach love is so beautiful and inspiring. Free from the shackles of society's impossible standards, they present themselves authentically at all times. They know exactly what they're looking for, they unapologetically express their wants, needs, and desires, and most importantly, they make it painfully clear whenever they're unfulfilled.

This is also how I approach dating. My inability to be anything but myself—good, bad, or ugly—from day one is what draws men to me, but it's also what scares them away. This is especially the case when I suggest they also show me all parts of themselves. Turns out people are afraid to do that for some reason.

But back to the dating apps saga. I promise you I had no intentions of ever returning to hell—I mean, to the dating apps. Following a trip to New York, I felt so convicted that I would meet the love of my life at a networking event or while casually strolling down the street during lunch hour. I can even vividly picture how this man looks. The problem is, I no longer trust myself and my instincts, so when my dad or my therapist or randoms on TikTok told me I was being delusional, I figured I might as well take that into consideration. After all, I am delusional.

What made it easier for me to give dating apps another chance—despite feeling with every fiber of my being that I'm not going to meet my husband on a dating app—was my ongoing mental state. The loneliness of not being where I've worked so hard to be in life, not having any friends in this new and dull state, and not having a healthy mother-daughter relationship to fall back on felt (read: feels) too much to bear. I'm not quite yet strong enough to enter into and sit in that empty space. I'd much rather befriend the cycle of attempting to build connections with men I have no business connecting with. He's been the one constant in my life, and I'm desperate for a familiar presence.

So I've been deleting and reinstalling the apps every other month.

I took a solo trip to Chicago last week for my birthday. It was my first ever solo trip, and the first time in a very long time that I felt like my old, easy, breezy, beautiful CoverGirl self. I had the time of my life and was filled with pure joy. To top it off, I accidentally ended up in a Hallmark romcom and met the man of my dreams. Except... it was a Tyler Perry production, and less than 24 hours after telling me we have to plan a return trip, he decided he actually wanted nothing to do with me.

I won't lie—this threw me off for a few days because wtf? It's not that deep, but at the same time... when will I finally have my fairytale ending? Why must it always be something? Why can't things be easy and free? When I finally stopped feeling sorry for myself, however, I realized that that situation was a preview of what my life could look like once I overcome this current hump. It was a reminder to keep pushing—but I, as is true to my nature, tried to eat it before it was done cooking. I told you in Part 1 that I'm a glutton.

So I decided to never download the apps again.

That was until my brain realized that I was back in Minnesota, and the situational depression hit me like a ton of bricks. Suddenly, I remembered that I'm 33 years old and I can't even maintain a crush for one week while my literal mates are getting married and having children. My brain said, "Alexa, play ‘I Have Nothing’ by Whitney Houston," and I panicked and downloaded every app on the market. Suddenly, I was convinced that if I don't change my circumstances ASAP, I will be a loser for the rest of my life.

Then a little bit of sense snuck its way back in. She told me that my time in Minnesota is almost over, so I might as well go on some cute, casual dates until the end of summer.

So I decided to delete a few of the apps that have not been FDA-approved...

...and I began looking for men who seemed cool enough to spend time with. I matched with a few guys, some of whom I recall interacting with during previous stints on the apps. Since I couldn't remember why things didn’t work out the first time(s) we matched, I figured I might as well give them a fresh chance.

This is where the science came in. Since everything was so low-stakes for me, I resolved to love on the spectrum. I was to follow my unpredictable heart and do/say whatever felt right to me in the moment. One thing that was bothering me the most was how men would match with me but wait for me to speak first. This was the first thing I wanted to address, and the guys I had matched with on more than one occasion felt like the best people to confront.

In fact, I can show you better than I can tell you. Below you will find screenshots of how this entire science of love experiment went down:

Did I do the most? Absolutely. Is my affinity for always choosing to do the most likely the reason why I'm single? I wouldn't be surprised. But I'm really happy because this is the type of truth I've been nicely requesting from men for years—but have yet to receive.

What a great learning experience. I'm excited to see where the application of these lessons could take me.

As mentioned during the back-and-forth with my girlie pop, one of those lessons is that there is no incentive for ignoring red flags in the very beginning. And while those of you who are or have been in healthy relationships are probably like, "duhh," paradoxically, 13 years ago when I thought I was finally ready to seriously pursue love with someone else, I figured the best way to achieve that would be to overlook more of what I considered to be red flags. Before then, when I only pursued love with myself, I left at the first sign of nonsense.

This very unnecessary, embarrassing, and cringey interaction electric-shocked me back into that mindset. For that, I'm forever grateful.

Will I ever do the most like that again? Maybe—because I'm clearly neuro-spicy. But will I ever one-two-step past a fiery red flag again? Never.

TL;DR: I was afraid he was going to screenshot my messages and expose me on social media, so I decided to expose myself first. But as you can see, this is how my brain works, okay? I can't help it 😢

Jokes aside, though, feel free to DM me with your honest thoughts, y’all. I really want to be a better person.

Curiosity Killed The Dog (Part 1)

Guys, I did something embarrassing for science, or for love, or for the science of love... Whatever. Just hear me out.

I don't need to remind you that I've had trouble with dating. After all, you're reading this from my blog about my abysmal dating history. However, I'm going to remind you anyway. My dating life has sucked since God blessed me with the dreaded curse of being straight. The best thing a man has ever done for me is disappoint me, yet I still keep seeking them out like a glutton for punishment.

I've spoken to my parents about it, to my friends, to my therapists—hell, I even became a therapist (I'll fill you in on this development at a later date). Last but not least, I've spoken to God about it on countless occasions, but I still can't tell if He's silently instructing me to be patient or loudly telling me to become a nun.

Throughout the years, one piece of advice that I've received from a large majority of these sources is to go on the dating apps. Which is interesting, because out of the million people I know, only about five of them have ever had a successful relationship blossom from the apps. Still, I've reluctantly given it a try for the sake of trying.

2019 was my first attempt. I met this gorgeous, successful man on Tinder. We had a great coffee date and both seemed excited about getting to know one another. So naturally, I asked him what he was looking for. When this man responded with, "good sex and good vibes," I knew immediately that I wasn't going to find what I was looking for on there.

So I decided to delete the apps.

In 2020, COVID-19 came swinging, and the internet (plus low-grade alcoholism) was all we had to keep us going. I had just moved to Philly, my Philly girlfriends already had boyfriends, and I didn't have anything to lose. Long shorty short, it wasn't the worst experience—the Philly niggas gave me all that Philly niggas have to give, which was essentially nothing.

So I decided to delete the app.

In 2021, I was presented with the opportunity to blindly move to Tulsa, where I would not know a single soul. While it's always been easy for me to make girlfriends, it's been even easier for me to make male friends. Men only hate me when it's time to love me. With that in mind, I took to the apps again so I would have a guy friend to help me with the transition. I ended up meeting a lovely man who picked me up from the airport when I arrived, drove me to see my apartment for the first time, and took me out to lunch the very next day. We remained friends throughout my entire time in Tulsa. Turns out he was the only normal, straight, Black man in the whole city.

So I decided to delete the apps.

Then, when I moved to Dallas in 2022, I chose to employ the same strategy. From there I met—and became close with—the friend of a guy who deserves his own blog post, but I will spare him. In fact, I encountered many men... many, many, many many men, who wished death on me. That was a dark time that I'm not ready to expose just yet, if ever.

So I decided to delete the apps.

If you've read my last few posts, you know that I currently live in Minneapolis. This time, I was on the apps looking for guys and girls. I was desperate to form community immediately. I don't have it in me to begin describing how odd the state of Minnesota is, but the most I can say right now is that there are a total of five Black men who like Black women in the whole state. Of the five Black men, none of them are attractive, and all of them are meek and timid.

So I decided to delete the apps.

During my first year in Minneapolis, I basically flewed myself out once a week to spend time with the communities I left behind while trying to find myself. Note that these cities I frequented are known for being home to Black men who like Black women—and they sure did like me. Baby, the men would be salivating and chasing me around like puppies from the moment I stepped off the plane. And while, yes, I wasn't interested in them, I was reminded of the fact that I am desirable—but dating is a numbers game. Unfortunately, I have dyscalculia in Minneapolis. The entire experience confirmed to me that I have a greater chance of finding the love of my life once I'm back on the East Coast.

So I decided to never download the apps again.

I'll be back tomorrow for part 2 because the lie detector determined—that was a lie.

Where Am I Now?

I almost skipped this week's post because I've been grieving. Not grieving in the traditional sense—thank God nobody in my life has passed recently—but grieving the life I imagined for myself.

My stories so far have never been written in real time. My raw emotions have traditionally been preserved for my notes app. By the time I'm exposing myself on the World Wide Web, I'm typically 75-96% over whatever situation I'm writing about.

I figured, however, that if I'm to write about where I am now, I should write it where I am now. But let's wrap up where we left off last week before I get into what I'm currently feeling.

It was official, I was moving to Minnesota. Again, I’m blessed with great friends, both old and new, and a very new guy friend named Joe offered to drive with me from Dallas to Minnesota, and he’d fly himself back the next day. Thank God he offered to do that because that trip ended up being a trip. As you know, I’m just a girl, and that means I only change the oil in my car once, maybe twice a year. When I told him this, he took me to get my oil changed before we set out on our 13-hour drive.

The first half of the journey was great. Joe drove, we made a stop in Tulsa so I could say goodbye to a few dear friends (Amnoni, if you’re reading this I’ll call you back later!), and we picked up some fried pork chops from Retro’s (if you know, you know). I took over the second half of the drive. Two hours into it, Joe’s fast asleep, and I begin to notice smoke coming from under the hood. If that wasn’t bad enough, an alert appeared on my dashboard instructing me to pull over immediately. I shake Joe awake, and he’s immediately shocked at the amount of smoke my car is producing. He gets out of the car to see what’s happening and realizes that the cap for the oil thingy burst open, and oil was EVERYWHERE.

I start to panic, not only because it’s 2 in the morning and we’re in the middle of nowhere, but I only had about $100 to my name. Again, again, thank God for amazing friends, because Joe immediately sprang into action. As I reached out to roadside assistance, he started searching for nearby hotels for them to tow us to once they arrived. The tow truck came, dropped my car off at an auto shop where it’d be taken care of the next day, and then took us to the hotel. We got to the hotel and guess what? Of course, they were out of rooms, and so was every other hotel in close vicinity.

So Joe and I had to walk back to the auto shop in the middle of the night in the middle of nowhere, to sleep in my car until they opened up for the day. Mind you, it was July 12, 2023, at the time and hot as hell. We couldn’t turn on the car for air-conditioning, meaning we had to leave the windows open. The mosquitoes had a feast that night. I’m glad Joe managed to sleep well, but I was up wondering how I ended up in this position.

The next morning, the mechanics looked at my car and determined that the damage would cost around $450. My mum gave me her last for this trip, my dad never has money, what was I going to do? Joe, being the man he is, offered to pay half before I could even ask. To be honest, my pride wouldn’t have allowed me to ask because he had already done so much for me when he barely even knew me. I happened to be in contact with my BFF/sister from another mister the entire time 1) because she was worried about me and 2) because it was her birthday. Despite it being her day, she sent me the rest of the money I needed to fix my car.

As my car was being taken care of, I hid behind the auto shop and started crying. At that moment, I’d never felt so pathetic. I was two days away from turning 31, I was dead broke, I was about to move into a one-bedroom apartment with my mother in a state where I didn’t know a single soul, and I was completely dependent on everybody in my life. I was at my pity party for a while, so Joe started looking for me and caught me looking distressed. He asked me what was wrong and I explained to him that I was having a hard time accepting this amount of help from him. He was extremely kind and reassuring and put me at enough ease to be able to continue the drive.

We finally made it to Minnesota in the wee hours of the morning on July 13.  After unpacking all of my belongings out of my car, we only had maybe four hours to sleep before I had to drop Joe off at the airport. I kept in touch with Joe for a few days after he returned to Dallas, but I haven’t seen him or spoken to him since. I believe God sent him into my life for a reason and for a season, and I’ll forever be grateful for the role he played during that time.

The next day on July 14, I turned 31. I cried for 24 hours straight. Friends and family would call me to wish me a happy birthday, and I would respond by bursting into tears. Please, what exactly was happy about this birthday? And as my 32nd birthday quickly approaches, I have the exact same question, hence my current bout of depression. We’ll get into that, though.

My first few months in Minnesota, I was way too depressed to continue looking for jobs. I desperately needed some time to breathe before I exposed myself to more rejection. That was until I received a call from a dear friend. He reminded me that I loved traveling and that I should, therefore, try to become a flight attendant. I had considered being a flight attendant years ago in my early 20s, but I had never been in a position that would allow me to do weeks of unpaid training. His idea made too much sense for where I was at the time. Because I had moved so much throughout the past few years, I wasn’t willing to move again, so I decided to apply for an airline based in Minnesota. Within a week I had interviewed and been accepted for training. In January 2024, I became a flight attendant.

I didn’t tell most people that I was training to become a flight attendant in case anything went wrong. On the day of my graduation, however, I was so pressed to tell my friends, mostly because I wanted to start paying them back. That I had been owing them for so long had literally been keeping me up at night. When I received my first check, however, I thought my eyes were deceiving. That joint was $485, or something ridiculous like that. Long story short, I’ve never made more than $1200 a month since becoming a flight attendant. So friends, if you’re reading this, this is why I haven’t begun paying you back as promised. I’m more broke than I was while on unemployment.

That said, I think this is a great point to get into the grief that I mentioned earlier. There are three main things that I find myself grieving over:

I'm Grieving the Career and Financial Success That I Thought I'd Have by Now

I’ve worked so hard to become somebody, not just for me, but for the family I have now and for the family I hope to create in the future. I have two master’s degrees and, surprise, surprise, I’m currently working on my third. I’m actually quite ashamed to talk about the number of degrees I have because all that work and what did it get me? My parents are far from rich, but they continue to sacrifice the little they have for me. They are approaching 70, and I want so badly for them to be able to retire and enjoy their lives, but as my dad reminded me last week, they can’t yet because of me. I feel like a failure and I feel like a bum. I’m about to turn 32 and I have nothing. I can’t even afford to celebrate my birthday. I’m forced to, once again, spend the day in my mum’s bed feeling sorry for myself.

I'm Grieving the Romantic Love That I've Never Experienced

Another thing I’ve worked hard on throughout the years is becoming the best version of myself, partly because I want a good partner and I want to be a good partner when the time comes. The time has never come. You’ve read my stories; I meet men who, at first, seem to be completely enamored by me, but then turn on me literally overnight. I know I’m not perfect, but I can’t figure out why this happens to me. I treat my suitors exactly how I treat my friends. If my friends love me, why do the men I date hate me? Why are they never willing to put in the work that I am? My lack of partnership and companionship hit me the most when I lost my job. It was at that moment that I realized how we weren’t made to live this life alone. I was a single woman living in a one-bedroom apartment. But what if I was married and sharing that one-bedroom apartment with a husband who was still working? Yes, things would’ve been difficult for me, but not as difficult as it was. My friends are great, but they have their own lives, and I can’t continue to lean on them so heavily. This has been an extremely lonely and tough period of my life, and I wish I had my own person to help me get through it.

I'm Grieving the Relationship I Wish I Had with My Mother

She reminds me of most guys I've dated. They claim they love me or that I mean so much to them, but they become angry and shut me out at the slightest indication that I'm needing a type of love that they don't know how to give. My last birthday when I cried for 24 hours, she offered me no words of encouragement; I didn’t even get a hug. She is the sweetest, most giving, most loving person to everyone except me, it feels like. I’m used to my dad answering every phone call with, “my beautiful, darling daughter,” even when we’re in the middle of beefing. Now I’m living with a mother who won’t even ask me how I’m doing when I’m sick. It’s jarring, and it’s something I’ve spent a lot of time in therapy unpacking. Both my dad and my therapist have been urging me to take the lead in developing the type of relationship I want with her, but as of last week, I’ve decided that I’m unwilling to do that. I don’t want to teach her how to love me when I see that she’s fully capable of loving others in the very way I desire to be loved. Yes, the money she’s given me has saved my life, but I’d trade every single cent for a chance to experience a traditional mother-daughter relationship.

Well, gentle readers.  As you can see, I’ve been through a lot of 1st world problems. During one of my many pity parties, I realized that the time I spend crying could be spent getting closer to God. That’s when I decided to read the Bible from start to end. I figured it was important for me to know God for myself, and I’m so glad I did that. When I’m down, feeling lonely and unloved, He brings me peace and comfort. I’m continuing to practice leaning on the Holy Spirit and allowing Him to guide me. I know deep down He has something great in store for me; I just have to continue being patient and trusting in Him. One day my life will turn around, and this blog is going to be filled with happy, positive stories. Mark my word!