put some bacon on it

Rahshad: Can Can Stop rebelling!! Domesticate now!
Candace:What you talkin bout boy?
Rahshad: Lol u know what I'm talkin bout voodoo child! You are hard rock still. When you gonna quiet storm? Even butterflies land. Eventually...
Candace: Only when they have something to land on.

The classic misconception about me is that I am a perm-free, hummus-eating vegetarian, Birkenstock-wearing, nature-loving wild child. I am a peace-pipe smoking, hippie from Berkeley. I am a poetry reading and reciting artistic freak. I drive a VW bug and I have bonfires in the forest.

Hey, I, uh, how do I say this? I'm actually kind of normal.

Yes, my nose is pierced and "Have a beautiful day" is tattooed to my forearm. Sometimes I wear my hair all out and wild and I enjoy fruit and vegetables as much as the next vegan. I have an interesting collection of multi-colored shoes and silver jewelry. I listen to an odd mix of old soul/rock/hip hop/pop. I went through a dreadlock/backpacker phase. I love Berkeley. I wear a lot of cotton. I'm a Mac user?

I suppose the misperception comes from my drawing and the way I look sometimes. Maybe it is my calm demeanor. Maybe it is my perpetual single status? I've never understood why people think I am the definition of free spirit. But damnit, I eat bacon!

I have simple explanations for the things that other people build up as love-childlike tendencies. For example, perms cost too much to maintain, so I don't have one. I'm a clutz, so I don't get my nails done. Defecation is a much more pleasant experience when your steak is preceded by a nice green salad, plus the ranch dressing in restaurants is usually to die for. Cocoa butter smells good. Being naked is cooler in the summer than wearing clothes. I can draw, so I do. You know what else? I don't even like to read poetry, nor do I like to watch it on tv. I hate going to art shows. I drive a Camry. I can't stand Macy Gray (even though some people like to call me that. Why?)

How do you clear up a long-standing assumption about yourself? I do recognize that I am different from many women, but geez, most people take this natural thing too far. It's more of a less expensive lifestyle thing than a "nature girl" thing. I'm just funny, that's all. My brain works in such a logical way, I can't even defend myself against these psychedelic accusations. I have taken to staring blankly at people who say strange things to me.

So for those of you who think I belong to the Green Party and I recycle
...for those of you who think I light incense and burn candles for any other reason besides they smell good
...for those of you who think I speak in spiritual metaphors (example: "You nor I are possessions..." Well no not legally I guess because of that whole 14th Amendment thing.)
...for those of you who think I'm single because I'm so "free" or "wild" or "voodoo?"

I'm really just a Vlasic Original dill pickle eating, football game watching, shoe loving, History channel hawking, French fry obsessed, over easy egg chopped up in my grits with crumbled up bacon, coffee drinking, jeans and tshirt wearing chick from Oakland, California.

And that's kinda it. Now quit staring.

READY...BREAK!

In my never ending quest for true love I find myself sifting through a lot of cliches.

Open your heart.

Just be patient.

There's someone out there for you.

It's not your time.

My latest favorite: Are you ready to receive love? Well, yeah. Why wouldn't I be? It's kind of a dumb thing to say. To imply that I want someone to love but I'm not ready to let someone love me seems kinda, well illdiculous to me. Didn't I just say I was looking? Weren't you listening to me? As if Love had stopped by and I wasn't home. Or maybe I just wasn't dressed yet. Damn I missed Love's phonecall?

It's not that I'm not ready to receive. It is that the opportunity for a long lasting, healthy , happy, dare I say drama free relationship has not presented itself. I know my flaws, I know my habits, likes and dislikes, preferences. I know myself and I am so damned awesome.( ask me. I'll tell you). So, since I am the person I already need to be, bring on the Love!

Now ask me if I'm ready to get married and I will say no. Theoretically, I am. However, in the spirit of accuracy, I will say I am ready to start on a journey with plenty of destinations, marriage being the stop after "Let's move in together. " I'm more than willing to wait till I know we won't immediately implode before I buy my dress and clean up my parents backyard for the big shindig.

Hard to distinguish between someone saying something because they think they have to and actual for real good advice. Chances are if I've heard that phrase before, you're just talking. But I do appreciate your concern.

and while i'm at it

Is that (singledom) by choice?

Well, I guess technically it is. I mighta coulda had somebody by now if I had settled on some of the wacker dudes in my past.

...like that dude that asked me if i had ever been hit because i seemed like the type that a dude would hit.

...like that dude that lived in a house in deep north richmond and shared a room with another grown man and had two other roommates, one of whom lived in the converted garage with his son.

...like that dude who lived with a chick who found me on facebook.

...like that dude who likes my booty but only in the summertime because he can't see the thighs when i wear winter clothes.

...like that dude whose dreads smelled like Newports. Breath smelled like old chicken.

...like that dude who said in his best talking to my child voice "Here comes the tickle monster."

...like that dude licked me IN my ear.

...like that dude that had the ittiest of the bittiest penis. (even smaller than that other itty bitty)

...like that dude that fixed his mouth to tell me "we planned to have a baby before we got married," then didn't get married. That dude also said they had sex plenty of times and she only got pregnant once.

...like that dude who had two babymammas. A 2 year old and a 4 year old. red flag rise.

...like that dude that just barely spoke english.

...like that dude that acted like the total complete ultimate asshole the last time I saw him. And I am so glad I'm over that.


Many have tried, the chosen are none. The chosen coulda been one of those aforementioned , but that would set me up for divorce on the grounds of adultery (or possible jailtime because I shot the mothergrabbing bastard that dared test my gangster). I could settle for the sake of.... but the danger in settling is abject failure.

I WILL cheat on a dude I am not completely in love with.

I WILL argue with a dude that says dumb shit ALL THE TIME.

I WILL abuse someone who talks to me like I am 5.

I WILL shoot a man if he hits me. Too squeamish for stabbing. But I will shoot you.

I WILL NOT communicate with a non-english speaker.

I CANNOT hear after a tongue has left a puddle of spit in my ear.

I WILL not wear my sexy summer shorts in November.

I WILL not willingly continue to see someone I know is married and/or shacked up. I saw and or because separated is NOT divorced.

I WILL become violently ill at the prospect of kissing my stankbreathed husband, possibly rolling over on his stankassed dreads.

SO, yeah, it is by choice I guess. There are a few that I wish would have fallen for the bait. But when I think about the 40 or so that got called back and the 60+ that didn't, I think I've made some sound decisions. Sure, most are probably good guys, just not good for me.

I'm trying to do this long term. and be happy. not annoyed. or ill or imprisoned.

It does suck. So quit asking me that.

Sitting with my Grandmother and Mother at my Sister-in-law's bridal shower, I listened to who is now my Cousin-in-law recount how the fulfillment of finally finding the love of her life and getting married. She was very happy, you could see it all in her hand gestures and she was smiling and enthusiastically telling me just wait, he will show up. I just have to be patient. Yada. Later that day my Grandmother told my Mom she hoped I felt a little more at ease about being single and that maybe I had taken something from the fairy tale the future Cuzinlaw had just delivered. My Mom said probably not. Candace is 30 whereas that lady had gotten married for the first time up around the age of 47 or so. Nope, not comforted by that story at all, dude. Actually, feeling a little grim.

It does suck, this singleness. I'm alone and I don't want to be. I face the prospect of always being by myself. I face never having the traditional family that I want. I face never having children. I face never being loved. I face never having an intimate moment with someone special. I face a job and bills and birthday dinners with married friends. It's a little overwhelming. It is a lot overwhelming when people constantly point out the fact that I'm single.

Their questions start: So, why don't you have a man? Why are you still single? Do you have a boyfriend? Why aren't you married? etc.
Their questions continue: So, what are you doing wrong? Have you been out? What happened to that guy? Why haven't you [insert things I'm supposed to be doing to get a man but haven't done]? etc.
Their answers come: You aren't ready to accept love. You attract the wrong type of guys. You aren't [insert what I'm not doing right]. Let go and let God. etc.

I could ask people to stop asking, but someone else is going to meet me and wonder why I haven't got anyone. So, my standard answer has become "you tell me". Because I don't know. I'll give you a heads up. Most men I meet, and this is 99% of them, are only interested in having sex with me. This new culture of fucking every girl in the world has all but depleted my chances. Divorce is like a badge of honor. Babydaddies are rampant. Married/Shackedup/Attached prowlers are in abundance. Sure I've met a few guys who said something about that sounded a little like they might be looking for someone specialt, but they end up asking my favorite sexual position in the end. Red Flag rise.

Hey, I have a question. Why are you wondering why? I stopped.

Trigger

My mind immediately flashes to a perfect black and white photo on my wedding day. I'm fly as hell, as the bride should be. He is beautiful, not cheesing in the picture, like I am, but serene. Happy because I'm happy. In love. My vision lasts .0064 seconds.

My attraction to this man was instant. He has this pleasantness about him. It's just nice. It looks nice. It smells nice. It probably feels nice. I'd like to touch it.... or him. It may or may not have been obvious to him. I'm not one to speak up about my attraction at all, let alone right away. I like to watch and wait. I listen for clues, flaws, red flags, triggers. The milk chocolate layer might be hiding that cherry flavored shit they sneak on you in the office christmas candy box.

The last one was practically perfect too. But he wasn't good at what I wanted. Neither is this newer shinier model. He is as intelligent and as amusing as the 1971 version. He is as fine and could be (although v19.71 would be hard to top) as....mmm... innovative as the 1971 version. He probably has a better job and certainly not as many kids as the 1971 version. The 1981 version is a good catch, the 1971 version was a good catch, for somebody else (until she found out about me).

v19.81 is v19.71. Just has extra features.

I say all this just as a person who has met another person who looks like someone I'd have to make a late night phone call to a friend about. It's just like Keya said... she'd [pointed to Randa] get a phone call right away. "Look what I got". I've made that phone call a few times. But I ain't got nobody. I want somebody. I'd like him. I won't get him.

I could "initiate" or "be the aggressor". I won't. I need him to want me. He doesn't. I could fall into the friend category if I don't speak up. That's fine. That's better than falling into shit. I'm allergic to shit.

I am just not excited about handing me over arbitrarily . He gets offers and favors and extras from plenty of girls with friends they call as soon as he dozes off. I'd just be another piece. I'd be a story. "I had this one with DDD's and man she had all this hair, dog. Man." I've been that so many times. I've been that when I thought I wasn't. I've only ever been that. I like sex, I just prefer quality, not quantity. v19.81 is rapidly expanding it's operating system capabilities. Troubleshooting v19.71 was time consuming enough. I imagine with all the upgrades and new features v19.81 has, troubleshooting is a beast.

I could miss out if I don't say something soon. Some other chick could swoop in with her awesome head and her big finale. That would impress him more than my smile or my ear. I only have one pussy, v19.81 requires multiple ports. He expects what I either just don't do or just don't do for any old body. Competition is fierce. He knows that. I bet there's no more room for groupies on his bus. I think I'm safer over here where I don't have to say anything. Where I don't have to worry about what he thinks or if he's going to call me or text me or leave me a message on one of my devices.

I think by now, nothing has happened, nothing is going to happen. Not with this new high tech v19.81 package. I'm not advanced enough for this model.

I underestimated the frequency of the Stepout.

I was just coming out of my Michael Jackson sadness when this new sadness over Steve McNair popped up yesterday. Damn Steve. That sucks. As much as it sucks, I'm a little pissed at him. Just like I'm pissed that Mike needed a lethal injection to get some rest. Just like the rest of us, I get caught up in thinking that famous people are living perfectly well. No drama except for an occasional photographer jumping out of the bushes. Then my fantasy crashes back down to earth because someone overdoses doing speedballs, goes on trial for child porn productions, or coughs up a $500mil in divorce settlements because athletes like to sleep with anything that has a different last name. I guess all this could happen to anybody, even the people who can't afford speedballs.

This Steve McNair situation is especially sad to me, because like many single women (or married?), I feel like having this physical specimen of a football (or basketball. pick your poison) player as your lifelong partner would be pretty awesome. To be standing in the audience when he wins a title or an award, good (or excellent, rather) seats at his games, all the team gear, trips during the off-season, his body, depending on his position on the field, is probably exceptionally decent... Seems like being married to one of these guys would be fantastic! But more and more, I'm finding being married to a lot of these guys would be a nightmare. How many other women, rumors and whatnot would you have to put up with during the marriage, let alone the courtship before the nuptials? Would I prefer several trysts during his days on the road or one special piece tucked away in another neighborhood? What if you were Cookie listening to Magic tell you he had HIV? I don't know that I'd be able to handle it. Well... I'd be able to handle it, I wouldn't be able to stick around for more bad news.

What's troubling to me is that people who aren't future hall-of-famers do the exact same thing more often than they can afford to. Maybe not going so far as to spend a whole lot of loot, but they spend plenty of time and energy, they become physically and/or emotionally attached to women other than their significant other. Sometimes it's many different women, sometimes it's just one special one. I'm not sure which would be worse to find out about. I'd sure hate to find out about both though. I'm willing to bet that if you've progressed to cosigning for vehicles, you have pros in different area codes.

As a former Sidepiece and aspiring girlfriend, I'm left wondering how things get to the point where you have to go find someone else to spend quality time with? And if you feel the need to spend quality time with someone else, why are we still married/shacked up? Am I powerless to stop this? Does your relationship even have to be on the downslide for cheatage to occur? How do I prevent dudes looking for side action from approaching me?

I guess it's not up to me to "keep" him. He has to not want to stray. I could be the perfect combination of beauty, intelligence, tidiness, sexiness, and culinary genius. He could still dip out on me. I am not sure how much suck-it-upness I am capable of summoning. Once is about my limit on other broads. I guess it's a crap shoot. I guess I'd better choose wisely.

Pickiness is an underrated virtue.

Happy Funny Sexy

What type of guy do you like? What do you look for in a man? Stability? Honesty? Provider? Intelligence?

Blah Blah Blah

I like a man that doesn't make me mad. I like a man that makes me laugh. I like a man who is nice to look at. I like a man who is (dare I say it) a man who is nice to look at. Happy. Funny. Sexy. That's what I like.

All the other stuff is secondary. I won't have a chance to find out about all the other stuff if he doesn't at least pass the HappyFunnySexy test. He can have a great job, a Masters Degree in AstroPhysics. A killer pension and a beach house on top of a regular house in a nice neighborhood. Possibly a mutually agreeable pet, a beagle or a goldfish. No children or strange ex (or current) wives or girlfriends. Being with him is like counting vacuum tracks in the carpet.

Or...

He might say the craziest, most hilarious things. He likes to watch movies with you or you just sit and talk sometimes. He never tries to push your buttons or test your gangster. He is tall and muscular and always groomed and smells good. He probably has good kisses and Beethoven's 5th Symphony bursts from the walls when you have sex. He's fantastic! He lives with his girlfriend or wife of 3 years, they have two children together. He has an older kids with his first wife. He has warrants. He pays child support and the mortgage on the house he shares with his significant. And he has two pit bulls.

You know, I'm stuck.

Simpleton

I am a simple person. You can't tell that by looking at my shoes.

My mind operates somewhat mathematically. There is a yes or no answer to everything with the occasional theorem or unanswerable word problem (such as the two trains running word problem I never answered correctly). You either like me or you don't. You either love me or you don't. I don't do this or that because these or those consequences are greater than the consequences I am willing to pay.

My main objective (and this is my life stripped down to it's bare minimum) is to stay alive and out of jail. Other goals include staying unharmed, sheltered, fed. Clothed is one. Employed is a good one. You know, basics.

Happy and loved is good too. I'm happy and loved. I don't have a "mate", but I do have enough friends and family that love me enough to keep my mind off of what lacks in my life. Which is nice.