Should I Settle Too?

All this time I have been waiting for Prince Charming. In the meantime, I have been entertaining and dodging frogs as a temporary distraction. I know what to expect from frogs. I expect for them to be slimy and to leap in and out my vagina, mouth, and/or anus life. I’m not saying that I’ve been holding out for an Idris Elba or Channing Tatum but I’m sure as hell don’t want a Ray-Ray. A Ray-Ray is unemployed, misogynistic, and has several baby mamas and felonies. No sir or ma’am! I don’t care how big his dick may be. Wait…hold up. How big is it again???

What if the perfect man doesn’t exist? I’m sure as hell not the perfect woman. I’m bipolar, overweight, and financially unstable. Sure I have positive attributes but who gives a rat’s ass if you’re not a video vixen or a Victoria Secrets model.

Should I just settle for a Ray-Ray? Maybe Ray-Ray is a really nice guy but just a product of his environment. Besides, it seems like most of the women I know are settling anyway. Should I just say “fuck it” and join the crowd? It’s not like I’m not used to dealing with bs anyway. At least I won’t go to the movies alone anymore and the other side of the bed will be occupied at night.

I have a friend who is shacking up with an unemployed drug addict who doubles as her man bitch. Of course he disappears on binges from time to time but at least he cooks, shaves her va jay jay, gives her pedicures, and babysits the kids. I have a relative that is involved with a verbally abusive man who is also on the down low. Of course he may be sending out sexually suggestive messages to other men and claims he’s not gay or bi but at least he lets her sleep on his sister’s floor (after he destroyed her furniture and got her evicted). I know a wife who is verbally abused by her husband on a regularly. Of course he’s a big ole meanie who is suspected of cheating but he appears to be good father and provider. I know another wife who got married for financial security. Of course she may not be in love with her husband but at least she got a boob job and is always going on cruises and vacations. Actually, her situation doesn’t sound too bad after all. Sign me up for that…minus the boob job. I have enough to feed an entire village!

Is this what relationships have become? Does true love even exist anymore? Are people settling for less because they don’t want to be alone or broke? I’m not scared of lonely like Beyoncé but I’m sure quite sick of it.

Well, since you asked Mr. Wonka...

Don’t mind if I do Mr. Wonka. What an awesome suggestion!

Honestly, I thought my chances would improve if I dated outside my race. Wrong! Soothed fetishized me and used me as his kinky sex guinea pig. Although our BDSM experiences were quite illuminating, liberating, and hot, I was never a romantic option for him. He told me in so many words that a Black woman wasn’t who he envisioned as a potential mate. Although Intrigue didn’t fetishized me, he didn’t come around often and demanded discretion. Silver Fox is different but I don’t know if he’ll ever pick up what I’m dropping. 

The lack of a mate is troublesome to my mother. She won’t stop hinting about my age and my need to get pregnant. She is always recommending some “get your body ready for a baby” supplements that she’s seen in the newspaper or television. She has even attempted to hook me up with a guy I dated as a teen. The One Who Was Troubled introduced me to cunnilingus and orgasms in the spring of ‘94. Perhaps a 14 year old should have been hanging out at the mall instead of having orgasms but it is what it is. Although he was a sweet person, he suffered from a mental illness and was intellectually impaired. I visited him in psych facility after a failed suicide attempt. We drifted apart eventually. As a 14 year old, I wasn’t equipped to deal with his issues. I’ve always known that he carried a torch for me. Throughout the years I’ve managed to let him down gently. His wife passed away in recent years and he has two little girls. He gave my sister his phone number and wants me to call.

Should I call?

Should I settle?

Excuse the Bipolar…

The past few days have been pretty dark for me. I wasted days either drinking copious amounts of wine, listening to music without regards for my neighbors, watching porn and masturbating. I had so many important things to do but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. All of my intentions felt weighed down by bricks. Really large depressing bricks.

Today I woke up after 11am. Irritated. Withdrawn. Wishing that everything around me would burn to the ground.

Whenever I feel this way, I go to my closet and look inside my box of crazy containment. What is my box of crazy containment? Months’ worth of medication—Abilify and fluoxetine (generic form for Prozac) in a shoe box. I look at them and wonder. I don’t wonder if I should take them consistently. I look at them and wonder if I should take them all at once to stop the pain.

Say hello to my little friends.

Say hello to my little friends. Enemies? Frienemies?  Hard to tell at times.

Intellectually, I know that wouldn’t be such an awesome idea. I also think about what my mom said, “Don’t kill yourself. Insurance don’t pay if you kill yourself.” I imagine her struggling to pay for my funeral. I can also imagine how her crazy daughter has brought shame upon to the family yet again. As if I didn’t bring her enough shame as a promiscuous teen and directionless adult. Aren’t I quite the prize? Don’t answer that question.

She still helps me out on my bills every month. This month she gave me $300 and nearly all of it went on credit card bills. I’ve acquired even more credit card debt since this post. It is suffocating. Sometimes I just want to abandon all these bills and give my mom and me a rest. Maybe I should.

School is becoming suffocating. I have several papers due in less than a month. A bulk of them are for a class that I cannot seem to grasp. Maybe I should have chosen Creative Writing instead. I have no passion for this subject. Silver Fox made school more bearable but since my awkward seduction stunt, I feel so weird around him.

I still don’t even know what my passion is. I have no clue about what to do with my life. I’m f*cking 34 years old. What the f*ck is wrong with me? Sometimes I wish I can run away from it all.

Feeling restless, I searched for “bipolar disorder” in Netflix. The documentary Of Two Minds came up. I watched it and it resonated with me to a certain extent. I felt like it only scratched the surface though.

Maybe I should do a documentary on bipolar disorder. Become a hooker? A bank robber? A nun? A nomad? Nah. Maybe I should just go to sleep and hope there isn’t a day #5 of this bullshit! I want to feel normal again.