The Side Chick

So I wasn’t going to comment on a lot of the statuses/posts/tweets I’ve been seeing this weekend.

I know, I know. I always speak my mind, right? So why different this time?

I wasn’t going to comment because I didn’t think it needed my “Caribbean Rambler” stamp on it.

But...after seeing this for what seems like the 100^th time today, I felt the need to say a quick something about it.

First off, Happy National Side Chick Day!!! (e-confetti, glitter spins) O_o

(Yup, I’m going there today.)

I almost want to post this to Facebook and tag all the people this weekend that I’ve seen address this over the weekend, but there is a tag limit on these things, I know. Not to mention that you don’t need me to tell you who you are. You know who you are.

I didn’t realize that today was a national holiday – the precursor before Valentine’s Day, if you will. I mean, never mind that Valentine’s Day is such a day of mixed emotions – the lonely and bitter ones cursing the day because they’re lonely, the happy ones posting all of their Valentine’s Day goodies, the lonely and hopeful landing somewhere in the middle…Valentine’s Day in and of itself has the potential to cause lots of drama. I mean, as we all know (prepare for sarcasm), Valentine’s Day is the only day of the year that one can express their appreciation for the ones that they love. Husbands, boyfriends, do me and yourselves a favor this upcoming V-Day: make sure you get your shorty something, if you ever intend on getting buns today or in the near future. If she says she doesn't want something, she is lying. Trust me. Even if she insists. She wants something. She wants you to get it anyway.

But this post is not for the happily/unhappily/situations in love.

This post is for the side chick in all of us.

I just want to start off by saying that I don’t say this to encourage infidelity. For myself, I have never cheated on anyone I’ve been with a day in my life, which becomes interesting when you assess that at least half of the people I have been with cannot say the same. (I’m not bitter. Seriously. No sarcasm. It’s all a lesson learned.) I firmly believe that if you’re with dude or shorty, and you’re not happy, and you have the power with which to either fix the problem or leave, then do so. Cheating solves nothing and complicates everything.

Having said that…

Raise your hand if you’ve been or know a side chick.

(raises hand, patiently waits)

There should be a lot more hands up than there are right now. *raises eyebrow*

OK. OK. I’ll stop. I’m not blowing anyone’s spot today.

What I will say is this: there are a lot of us out there, using social media as a platform with which to be uber judgmental. As many people as I’ve seen putting down the ‘side chick’ these past few days, how many of those same people have side chicks? Know side chicks? Encourage the side chick phenomenon? Hell, how many of your parents have been the/encouraged the side chick thing?

Food for thought, isn’t it?

Now, again, I don’t condone behavior or encourage it. I’m not offering an opinion on the side chick one way or the other. But if there is one thing I have learned these past few years, it is this: you can never walk in someone’s shoes unless you’ve walked in their shoes. And it is with that said that I say this: stop playing out the side chick. Leave them be and stop pointing the finger. Everyone is entitled to their own opinions and actions, and I don’t care what you think you might do or not do or what you think something is, you can never say unless you’ve been there. Everyone has a higher power to answer to eventually. Let them answer to it. After all…lots of you pointing the finger have a/are the side chick, aren’t you? *wink* #imjustsaying…

That is all.

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Sexy Intimacy Love Lust Bullsh...

Your skin possesses a thin sheen, a glisten only accomplished from one of two acts of exertion. This time, it’s not the gym – Lord knows, you can’t remember when last you stepped inside of that place. A touch turns into a caress. Caress turns into that grip on your hip – the one right before your back arches – and you lose all control.

Later on, you all lie against damp sheets and discuss everything under the sun. Perhaps you don’t. Perhaps you lay there in post-bliss. You might decide to cuddle – your front to their back – or the reverse. You could even dispense with all of the above – and just go to sleep. If it’s a 4 am relationship, then maybe you’re just about headed back to the car at this point. (If you are headed to the bus, I think now would be an ideal time to consider a new 4 am relationship.)

Maybe you’re just gearing up for round 2. Or 3.

Any of the above scenarios sound familiar? They should.

If you are sexually active, then chances are, one of the following above scenarios have occurred, at some point or another. Sex, in all of its facets, is an enjoyable exertion of calories, pleasures, positions, etc. Many songs have been written about this seemingly private deed. I am 100% sure that there is not a person out there that couldn’t name at least 2 songs based on sex. (Don’t worry. I’ll wait.)

Now. Pay close attention to my next question. Of the above scenario – which was the most appealing part?

Some of you might have said the back arching part. (Especially if you are currently backed up.) Others might have quoted the cuddling as your favorite part. I’m willing to bet that the vast majority of you, however, said that you valued the whole experience. Sex without intimacy is, for all intents and purposes, simply rutting. Everyone craves intimacy in some form - whether they want to admit it or not. Often, in my opinion, intimacy is coupled with the idea that said people coupling are in some form of committed relationship – which is not necessarily the case – or is it?

So I throw out the question to you: Do you prefer sex – or intimacy? What is your definition of both? When in those moments of craving bodily contact, is it for the sex – or for the intimacy? 

Be honest…

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Baggage on both Sides

I'd be lying if I said I didn't have any baggage.

You'd be lying if you said you didn't have any baggage.

That's right...I called you out. Yeah, I said it.

Baggage in relationships are an interesting concept, one that I have pondered as who I am and the paths that I take in my personal development grow and become easier for me to navigate. Cue a Mary J. song. (You know that there's a Mary song for everything.) As my new found friendship/relationship/big ass ? mark grows into something that has the potential to be awesome, I find myself looking at both his baggage and, well, my own.

Let me backtrack for a second.

A good friend of mine, when talking me down from my proverbial panicked 'ledge', pointed out: "He's like an onion, gotta slowly peel the layers..." And to me, that is an ideal way to look at a relationship as it grows: each person has layers of their persona that you uncover as you get to know them. Like Chris Rock said in "Bigger and Blacker", "You can’t get nobody looking like you look, acting like you act, sounding like you sound. When you meet somebody for the first time, you’re not meeting them. You’re meeting their representative!" (What's that? You've never SEEN Bigger and Blacker? You're slacking. Check it out.) You do meet their representative the first time around. And as you get to know them better, you let a layer fall off. You shed some of that protective skin to reveal the tender skin underneath. And within the shedding of those layers, hopefully, is the revealing and shedding of baggage.

So I have baggage. Dealing with the father of my child definitely left a few scars that took me a few years to get by. (And, for the record, I went through a Caribbean man phase. I don't subscribe to that theory now.) But anyway, dealing with him taught me so much about who I was that if I ever talk to him on a semi-friendship level again, I owe him a debt of gratitude. He truly made me who I am: much more confident from having to rebuild my self-esteem, more poised from dealing with the BS, more focused from making up for lost time, etc., etc.It's true. I have baggage. And I deal with it. I don't let it deal with me.

So it's always an interesting concept when I meet a guy who also has baggage. Who steps on eggshells around certain topics because he doesn't want the 'crazy black woman' to rear their ugly head. Who is weary of the independent black woman because they don't feel like dealing with all their crazy standards. I mean, he deals with it...he works on his baggage as I work on mine...but for those of us women who think that men don't have issues like that, think again. They do and they have and they deal with it the same way we do: one day at a time.

What do you think? Is there baggage on both sides? How do you deal with your baggage?

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