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Dating in 2015 (So Far): February – The Writer Groupie

I’m pretty lax with my Instagram followers. If someone I don’t know sends me a follow request, I typically take a peek at their account and if they seem cool I follow them back, if their feed doesn’t interest me, but they seem like an otherwise nice person I accept their request and if they’re spammy or raging misogynists I decline their invite.

So, I guess at some point, way back last June, I took on a new follower and he seemed nice enough and I followed him back. In February, I was rummaging around in that “Other” inbox on FaceBook where messages from people you don’t know are sent. And I had a message from this guy explaining he was my IG follower XXX and he had sent me a FB friend request in November (that I had not accepted because I didn’t know who he was). I felt bad for not responding, so I immediately accepted his request. A few days later, I noticed we didn’t have any mutual friends, so I messaged him, “How do we know each other?”

“We don’t. Continue Reading →

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Dating in 2015 (So Far): January

On my birthday, I decided to finally go through with the nose piercing I’d been wanting for years. I left the tattoo parlor with my new nose piercing sparkling (and throbbing) and standing right outside the door was a tall, beautiful Black man, Happy birthday to me! I thought. He was holding a skateboard and had just come out of the vape shop. He immediately began complimenting me: my new nose ring, my cute little nose, my style, my raspy voice. He told me he was an artist. He told me he worked with children. He told me he was single, because I asked him, point blank. Continue Reading →

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I Do

Ok, let’s talk about it.

When it happens, when we meet and we fall in love and you decide this woman is a woman I cannot live without, when that happens, I want you to know I don’t need all the fancy shit. Just me and you and our everyday duds and the set of eyes needed to make it official.

When I was a kid I asked my mom about her wedding dress and she told me they’d turned them into curtains. For the longest time, I thought the heavy, starched lavender curtains in their bedroom had once been her wedding dress overflowing with fabric. She got married in a t-shirt and red shorts.

I tell everyone I know that I’m going to get married in a Continue Reading →

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Sunday Morning

Everyday is Saturday night, but I can’t wait for Sunday morning, Sunday morning

Being single is a series of Saturday nights: Arms slung around friends, the music in our ears travel straight down to our soles, drinks sloshed from glasses to shoes, your shoes, their shoes, who knows whose shoes, shoes clawed off and flung into the corner the second you stumble over the threshold. Sleep comes like a Polaroid picture developing in reverse.

Being with the one you love is like a series of Sunday mornings: Knees knocking, breath kicking. Sheet coverage won and lost in the night, forsaken in the name of peace at dawn’s first light. Ears up close are as intricate and intimate as the curve of sea shells. Hair all a mess, his mess, evidence of satisfaction. Happy as larks, nothing but breakfast will lure us from this love nest.

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Champagne Supernova

We’re cutting across the neighborhood taking turns swigging champagne from a brown paper bag, the ultimate expression in trash and class. Just a pair of friends walking and talking. At first porch lights and the occasional set of headlights illuminate our way until we emerge from the neighborhood onto a busier road and the street lights rain burnt orange down onto us. We walk up to our friends sitting out on their stoop and there’s much rejoicing and Continue Reading →

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