Do We Expect Too Much?

It seems as though, most of our grief in life stems directly from our expectations. It’s impossible to be disappointed unless your expectations fail to be met.

Too often we expect people to react to situations the same way we would. I think this becomes the greatest fault line in most relationships. We expect our partner to love the way we do. Understand the way we do and forgive the way we do. Women being more emotionally centered than men tend to experience things this way oppose to men who experience things logically.

As a creature that experiences most of its life emotionally often times women unknowingly expect all interactions follow suit. We go above and beyond because we like/love our men and more times than not, this happens too early in the relationship. We take their lives on as part of our lives.  We triple think our actions weighing them against how they may make our men feel. Always mindful of the conversation flow. Always factoring them and their feelings in. The problem with this behavior is most women expect these actions to be reciprocated by the men in their lives.

We expect that because we may think that talking everyday shows interest the men in our lives agree.

We think that because we give ourselves completely that our partners will instinctively give themselves to us.

We surmise that our emotional timeline matches with that of our love interest.

Problem is….. More often than not. This is not the case.

Where most women see color… Men see black & white.

Example: No communication between a Man and Woman a few days.

Woman: He’s clearly not that interested. Or he’s acting funny. I have to initiate everything. He has too many women he’s dealing with. Pow Wow meeting with the girls to discuss.

Man: Been a long week. Didn’t feel like talking. Still want you and I plan to see you soon.

Now the woman sitting for a week all emotionally disturbed and irritated with a man who has no idea. The man is about to be blindsided when he reaches out to the woman and she has an attitude… all because the expectations weren’t set at the right level.

I think the root of the communication problems between men and women weigh heavier on the side of non-verbal communication than the actual words we share. In our minds we are all already speaking separate languages. Our assumptions and expectations in a language only we understand. It’s like traveling abroad and expecting everyone to speak your native tongue.

So we have to ask ourselves…. Do we expect too much?

The Hour Glass

I do not love you. Not the way you need me too.

The love I have is a selfish kind. Indulged in more for me than it is for you.

I cannot imagine my life without loving you. The thought of it brings such an instant agony it is almost unbearable.

 I do not deserve your love but I crave it more than air. You desire an all of me that is not mine to give.

There are little parts of me left here and there.

I want to gather them all up and give it all to you. I trust you more with me than I trust myself.

I don’t want to leave you, though I know that I must. This is a journey I must make alone if there is any hope of us.

 Whispers of yesterday echo in my mind.

I cannot silence the beckoning.

 It calls me by a name that I used to know.

What I need most is time. But time is so selfishly self-serving it refuses to serve any master. The sand will only fall in one direction and when it’s gone it’s done.

Set me free my love to reclaim my wings.

Leave a trail to remind me of the way home.

Is this love strong enough to light your heart… will it stay burning long enough for me to find my way out of the dark?

And Then There Were Three...

Forbidden fruit is always the sweetest….

The music is bumping. The air is so thick I can feel it caress my skin as I make my way through the crowded dance floor. Face after face twisted in its own form of wicked pleasure… All these people indulging themselves in their desires. Grinding their sexual frustrations out on whoever is willing to reciprocate. Clouding our judgments with the sweet intoxication of our varied flavors of liquid courage. When the lights go out and the speakers come on each patron gives their silent signature an inaudible acknowledgment that for the next few hours… in this place… your wildest dreams can come true… nearly anything is possible.

The phone rings. He requests my presence. He does not belong to me, but I am his. I submit to calling without hesitation. No questions needed aside from the address of our Rendezvous. I arrive at a hidden night club on such a quiet street to be in the Big City. The night is cool, slightly uncomfortable without a Jacket… but bearable. For once in my life, I’m early. So I make my way to the bar and start the night off with a shot of my old friend Senor Patron. As the tequila begins to warm my blood I look up and see him enter. Always such a presence when he walks into a room, everyone notices. But wait… who is this woman with him. If I were anyone else … looking at her frame I would have assumed she was me. She’s wearing sunglasses so I can’t make out her face. I make my way closer, she removes her glasses and her face becomes one that I am more than familiar with. He also does not belong to her… but she, much like me … is his.

We drink… we dance…. We drink…. We laugh…. We drink…

My Mr. Jones...

He pulls my face to his and kisses me… if I didn’t know better I would have thought he missed me. Then he turns to his left… and kisses her. For just a moment the world goes silent. “What the hell just happened?” Is all I can think. Did we talk about this? Did I somehow forget THIS portion of the directions? So I am faced with a simple decision… Am I down? I think to myself… What the hell … Carpe Diem”

We spend the rest of the night in varied 3person dance maneuvers… Tasting Ciroc off each others lips. We have officially occupied the Very Important People’s section of this club. Women are forgetting what their Mother’s taught them and shaking what they gave them for the ones we incautiously throw. Us Musketeers have found a corner and made our way to a Verbal game of twister, enjoying the combinations of sweet the 3 of us make.

The next thing I remember is being told to make my way to the car. Driver pulls the Benz up we hop in the back. Sleep takes over… I awake to find myself walking through the lobby of a hotel. Room doors are opened. Showers commence. I am the last to exit the shower… my erotic obsession with hot water delays me. I exit the bathroom to find them in the bed. She is straddling him, grabbing his back for dear life. Their lips beckon me to join the two of them in the bed… Lights are turned off… and then there were three.

Ramblings on the Power of Love

Do I believe in the power of Love? I find that I’m asking myself this often. I usually like to consider myself a hopeless Romantic. I believed that love could and would withstand anything. I felt that as long as you had love, nothing else mattered. I can remember saying “I’d live in a cardboard box with …..” As long as we have each other… we’re good. And for a while I truly felt that way. Now I realize how fucking stupid and unrealistic that sounds. Is it truly possible to love one person for the rest of your life? Do I have enough love left for that? When you go through a relationship that you really believe is going to last forever, and it ends. Something about that fucks you up mentally. The physical pain of having ones heartbroken is enough to send any sane person over the edge. There’s this moment when you can actually feel your heart cracking and your entire person is broken in half. NOBODDY wants to feel that shit twice. It changes the way you view relationships, love, sex… everything. In a way you’re forever tainted. Like the heart never fully heals and is no longer capable of giving or receiving the amount of love it once facilitated. I have to ask myself, do I want to love that hard again? Do I want to be open like that with another person?

Yeah…. I do. Having someone that close to you is one of the greatest connections two people can share. The mutual vulnerability builds trust. And a bond that neither of your share with any other person on Earth. The problem is, it’s very rare that you find that person that you vibe with that deeply. That person you can spend all day with doing nothing. And every day still be excited to see. We develop so many superficial relationships. Only letting people see what we want them to see. That we rarely allow people to get close enough to of us to meet the real us. It takes a lot to get to a level with a person where you allow them to truly see all that you are. The quirky things you don’t let anybody else see. The fears nobody else knows about. All those secret fantasies you’ve been too scared to share. Allowing someone else into that space leaves us wide open for attack. But I think that’s what adds to the thrill of it all.

But hey what do I know?  I’m just a girl recovering from her own heartbreak with a cracked Moral Compass…

Oh so Do I believe in the power of love? I’ll let you know when I decide. 

What These Bitches Want From A Nigga? (what @RODRIGUEZ_TGC says)

The Trillion Dollar Question: 

"What these bitches want from a nigga?"

Answer: 

1. Money 2.Swag  3.Good Sex

End of article. 

It's that simple if your just strictly looking for a good time, but once you step into the relationship arena, oh boy things get a lot more complicated....things like love, understanding, commitment, caring all start coming into place, but don't think you can leave those other three points alone 1. Money 2. Swag 3. and good sex must remain. So how do you balance all of these without letting your ego get out of control, or on other side not go crazy? IDK ask Obama.  

My theory for guys is do not get into a relationship unless your money is right, cuz she can LOVE you, but if your money aint right, just LOVE is not going to make her stick around, it has to be a combination of both plus you have to be interesting aka swag. There are a lot more factors that are involved but I would need a book to write about those in depth.  If I'm wrong ladies please correct me.

BROUGHT TO YOU BUY @RODRIGUEZ_TGC

Waking at the Westin

*Stretches and yawns* I begin to adjust my eyes to the darkness. The first thing I realize… I have clearly drunk a lot the previous night. Wait is it morning? My vision begins to clear. By the looks of this room… I am definitely at the Westin. I’d recognize this room décor in the dark. Well this is either a good sign or a really bad sign. Waking up in a strange hotel? But hey…. At least it’s the Westin right? Am I alone? A voice from behind me whispers “Are you awake Baby?” Nope, clearly not alone.  I take a deep breath and roll over. Do my eyes deceive me? Am I lying next to the MAN himself? Visions of the previous night begin to hit me like a raging flood.

            A simple business conversation turns into “let’s go to happy hour”. That Happy Hour turns into “Go Home and get dressed, I’ll have my driver wait for you and bring you to the club” A few drinks in the club, relaxing in VIP. He’s no major clubber; he’d rather drink and watch everyone else act a fool. I’m with that plan. We attempt small talk over loud obnoxious music. This is no upscale lounge, we are in Hood City. Nevertheless we are determined to enjoy ourselves. And like a flash of lightning I see a shiny stripper pole beckoning my attention from my right peripheral. The desperate and disillusioned women in this club begin to shake and gyrate in hopes of getting… phone bill money… I suppose. Before I know it, I’m given a $100 bill and instructed to turn it into 100 singles. I am much obliged. I myself am quite a big fan of Women taking off their clothes for money and I have no problem helping “Chocolate Thunder” pay her metro bill. After visiting 4 different Bar Tenders I finally have made this 1 bill into 100 bills. I stuff the money into my bosom as make my way through the thickness of the crowd back to the safety of VIP.  After consuming one more drink he grabs my hand, leads me through what feels like hell for broke people and up to the stage where the stripper pole awaits our 1’s. One hand on my waist… the other continuing to hand me one dollar bills to rub up and down “Chocolate Thunder’s” ass. Keep in mind this is NOT A STRIP CLUB. But hey what do you expect when you have a stripper pole, Hennessy, Waka Flaka Music and a bunch of Horny men drunk and willing to spend all the little money they worked so hard for 2 weeks to get? The crowd is in an uproar. They are elated to see this little Woman (me) making it rain on the biggest ass any of them have probably ever seen in real life. A few of them get out of control and begin to grope MY ass…. Now it’s time TO GO!

We spend some time cuddled in a corner and finally decide leave. He beckons the driver and informs him it’s time to go. I’m instructed to find a hotel. *Siri, find the nearest Westin* 

                           ************ INSERT MEMORY LOSS*************

Yes! It is the MAN that I have awakened to. I peek under the covers. Not naked…. But definitely NOT full dressed. He wraps his arms around me and as I look down I spy a sparkle . I'm reminded of what I already surmised in the back of my mind. We talk about business for a while then its gets personal. Something is genuine in his admissions of his inability to resist me .  After further conversation it is made clear that we did NOT enter into horizontal polka during the night. The relief I felt is indescribable.