Home is where the Heart Jewboo Is

Hey friends!

How's your day going? I'm actually on a up-swing, largely because of baked goods. Wednesday is my birthday, which always gets me in a mood (What do I have to show for myself????). A need for a quick lunch led me to Hale & Hearty Soups at about 2pm, when I was ravenous. A need to stop feeling crappy led me to exit Hale & Hearty and hit the Crumbs right next door.

As I walked back to my office with an Oreo cupcake, I tried to rationalize my lunch decision. When I reached my desk, however, there was already a package from Crumbs waiting for me!!!! My coworker had gotten me an early birthday gift! Clearly, I was meant to eat a cupcake today. I feel like the world is on my side.

In other news: There have been intense happenings with Jewboo. Of course, since the blog has ceased to be a safe space for my emotions and dramatizations, I've had to confide in my main gay via gchat. But obvi I can't keep anything to myself for too long, so I must share the transcript.


me: THIS JUST IN:
JJSiii:!!!
me: From Jewboo at 9:53am:
Hey dear, now that my job situation is taken care of, maybe we can now start discussing seriously moving in together? How does that strike you? Just wanted to float that out there.
JJSiii: I assume this is a good thing?
me: Yes! While visiting his parents, we even took a quick gander at RINGS.
JJSiii: RINGS? STOP IT. I HAVE BEEN OUT OF YOUR GCHAT LIFE FOR TOO LONG.
me: SERIOUSLY.
We were visiting the parents and we went to the mall
and he went into video game store and i went into one of those shops--like, Kay Jewelers or something--cause that's my idea of true romance.
and then he met me there and we looked for, like, 15 minutes together
I TRIED THINGS ON
JJSiii: oh my gosh, oh my gosh.
Shit is serious. I'm, like, planning your wedding in my head.
By planning it, I mean that I'm thinking about how much I want to be at it.
JJSiii: EVEN THOUGH I'VE NEVER IRL MET THIS MAN.
me: YOU MAY BE GIVING ME AWAY
you know i need one of my main gays to give me away
JJSiii: OH MY GOSH, OH MY GOSH.
This is such a caps-lock occasion.
I'm basically fanning my non-existent Cindy Lou Va-Who-Who, because this news makes me WET WITH EXCITEMENT.

So, as you can see, there's a lot happening. Of course, there is no proposal on the horizon BUT we are talking about cohabitation, which is more than enough ch-ch-change for one decade. Of course, the big issue is Harlem vs. Brooklyn, and you know where I stand.

Really, guys, my aversion to Brooklyn isn't my fault--it's in my blood. Before I was born, my mom and dad lived in Brooklyn and when my mom was pregnant she planned to have me at Harlem Hospital, cause it was way better than the BK hospitals at the time. Can you imagine a woman with her water broken hopping in a cab, saying, "Get me to Harlem, stat!"

Clearly, this was before the days when cab drivers profiled.

As luck would have it, I was born a few weeks early, just when my mom was having a follow-up appointment with her doctor. When she hopped off the exam table her water broke and I came out a few hours later. I knew we couldn't wait until returning to BK.

The main issue is that I am living in a ridiculously large place in the heart of Manhattan. I'm beyond lucky and I don't think it's smart to abandon prime real estate I'd never be able to afford otherwise in a city that everyone wants to be in.
Jewboo's reasoning is that the Harlem house comes with substantial mama drama, and he doesn't want to be subjected to it--or, even worse, in the middle of the two of us.
And I get that. Most people who come over for a meal start talking about moving in; Jewboo isn't just going with what's easiest or trying to take advantage, which I respect. Plus, I'm done with being under my mom's thumb, too, and there is a lot of pride I have to swallow in order to be where I am. But....
Mama didn't raise no fool. You don't cast off a brownstone for a shoebox when you're increasing your household size. Me + Jewboo + 2 cats + all of our creative endeavors which would make great use of extra rooms as offices and rehearsal spaces = sucking it up and taking advantage of a sweet deal. Perhaps it's because Jewboo has never really seen himself as a "have not" and knows nothing of NYC besides expensive shoeboxes, so he's not really hung up on it. I think our standards directly relate to our expectations, and I will be the first to admit that I am spoiled when it comes to accommodations. Besides, the idea of moving every 2 years as you inevitably outgrow the space (after all, our Emmy collection will take up most of the shelves) isn't appealing.

Plus, I must say I'd love it if those two cats had a special closet for their litter box--you gotta confine that smell, people. I'm not trying to come home to the smell of "Not-so-Fresh Step." Of course, this is a totally luxury "problem," but if it's possible, why would you live any other way?

Then again, as we start a new phase of our relationship, it would be nice to start fresh, in a newtral space. And I'd love to be able to decorate and start from scratch and build a place together--and not have my mother popping over whenever she felt like it, ragging on how badly I maintain a house, like a demeaning Steve Urkel.

I don't know. I love the boy and definitely want him to be my forever friend, but I also don't believe in oppressing myself if I don't have to or denying myself a luxury simply because there are a few strings attached. I mean, there are always strings attached to stuff. It seems like it's more beneficial to work on establishing boundaries with mom than it is to abandon the Harlem house--wouldn't you say it's throwing the baby out with the bathwater?

Your comments/suggestions would be much appreciated. Perhaps you can help me frame it in a way that a Jewboo can understand.

I'm a Bad-Ass Shiksa Dipped in Chocolate Sauce!*

(*courtesy of my she-ro, Aisha Tyler)

Hey Friends,

I’m back from my latest voyage INSIDE CAUCASIA: Judaism Addition. Starvation actually went pretty well, and things with me and the Jewboo are all good. In fact, yesterday, at approximately 1:41pm, Jewboo and I took our relationship to the next level—it’s on facebook! Yes, y’all. The world knows—including randoms I met abroad, my cousins I don’t like to talk to, and my former camper at the 92nd Street Y who we affectionately referred to as “Hanna Banana.”

I know this isn’t a big deal in today’s facebook.com/facebookthemovie world we’re living in, but I’ve never had the confidence—or the closeness—in a relationship to go public. I never wanted it out there because, you know, just in case we broke up, I could do it without embarrassing myself in front of the whole world. But, you know, after the second visit to the parents’ house (in which I didn’t end up hospitalized—yay!), after fasting for a day out of solidarity, I realized that no sort of pill will get rid of this jungle fever!!!
Oh, and some little tramp was trippin’ and I had to let her know what was up.
Let me explain.
So, Jewboo and I are sitting and breakfast and his mom and dad are around. I told them how he’d changed his profile pic the night before to one of the shots we took after dinner. He then casually goes, “It’s good because now it’ll keep randoms from messaging me.”
“What random?” I said, like a Tyler Perry character trying desperately to reign it in. I know his parents are down with the brown (dad even saw me in my head wrap!), but they may not be ready for some attitude.
“Some girl emailed me after a show.”
Apparently, this happened a week or so ago and he didn’t want to tell me “because I knew you’d freak out.”
Fair enough
“Did you write her back?” I said calmly and sanely.
“Yeah. I didn’t say anything, though.”
We head upstairs to get ready and I let my hair down, so to speak. I wasn’t really angry, but I just needed to know the details so my mind didn’t blow it out of proportion.
First of all, the girl was a tiny Jewess who does comedy (my rival!) and when I saw her email (“Hey, You were really funny last night,” blah blah blah I AM A TRAMP”) in the words of Whitney, I was like, “HELL TO THE NO!”
With him right next to me, I changed my status, cause clearly these girls need to know what’s up. I’m up in suburbia fasting and cracking up the guests with Matisyahu jokes, and trying my best to entertain his monosyllabic cousins—to quote one of the greatest R&B songs of our time, “The Boy is Mine.”

Of course, immediately after changing the status, I worried that I pressured him into it, and had to really make sure I wasn’t acting out of fear or manipulation. I realized I wasn’t, but was worried that finally going public after a good 6-month run would be the kiss of death –you know, like when Marisa Tomei won the supporting actress Oscar for “My Cousin Vinny” and then couldn’t get a job for, like, a decade.

Anyway, things are really good, and I think fasting—although his parents insisted it was not necessary—put me further in everyone’s good graces. I met a lot of people, and it was very strange to be introduced as “my girlfriend,” but, then again, I’m not used to anything remotely normal, so this isn’t surprising. His dad actually said, at dinner, “it’s no secret that we’ve loved you from day one, but we were so glad everyone had a chance to meet you.”
WE’VE GOT SOME SERIOUS FAMILY TIES GOING ON HERE.

Some fun facts I learned during this latest inside trip inside Caucasia :

1. A large dinner of pasta AND a full-sized cupcake won’t do anything to ward off hunger pains the next day. Fasting is fasting, and food doesn’t work like rollover minutes.
2. It doesn’t count as breaking the fast if I take my birth control pill and antidepressant. a. The fact that these are my daily necessities is kind of sad.
3. Sitting in synagogue with an empty stomach is a recipe for inappropriate napping. When you’re a black shiksa, you’ve already got 2 strikes and need to stop the eyelids from drooping!
4. Apparently a strong Jewish woman and a strong black woman are very similar. Jewboo’s mom and I like all the same television shows. A chat about True Blood led to her lending me the entire series of Sookie Stackhouse novels. You know you’re in it for real when mom is giving you literature.
5. Whitefish salad on a bagel is DELICIOUS (who knew?!)
6. Black people still make some White people uncomfortable. (Some folks were not ready for a blacktress up in the synagogue! They hid it fairly well--except for the kid who pointed at me and whispered to his dad during the service)
   

Marriage Material

Hey guys. What’s been going on? I feel so out of the loop. The last couple weeks have been totes cray cray, but I’m finally rejoining society—and by that, I mean, going straight home after work and hopping in bed by 10 (Sojo is old, y’all). The major stressor this past week was a friend’s bachelorette party, which somehow I got involved in planning many months ago. At that time, blacktress loved a good party, and with no job and plenty of free time, planning a bachelorette was quite appealing.
No, I’m not in the wedding party.
No, I’m not even that close with this girl. I see her roughly every four months, over a 90-minute dinner in which she often tells me I “seem so much better than last time we talked,” which I guess is supposed to be uplifting, but I don’t really pay attention because she often just gets the high (or, I guess, to be more accurate, LOW) lights over thai food.

Anyway, I digress. I’m not bitter, I swear.

Suddenly, with the bachelorette date of April 24 approaching, I had to put my money (and seriously, I mean my money) where my mouth was, making a customized recipe book that consisted of personalized notes from family, friends, and even the future German in-laws. This wasn't particularly difficult, but it was time-consuming, as I had to find a way to get it done wile doing my 9-5, trying to get my side-hustle stand-up career on, and preparing for my television debut. Needless to say, I was pretty stressed.

But Saturday came, and it was me and 7 future doctors, only one of whom wasn’t in a serious long-term relationship. I planned an evening that started at my favorite wine bar, which was only made awkward by the fact that I’m not drinking at the moment. So, there I sat, as the conversation turned to episiotomies, (click at your own risk!) drinking my mocktail, and wondering why I was destined to die alone and poor. I also made a mental note never to get admitted into a hospital.
Good times.
I then planned for us to head over to a delicious tapas restaurant, where they didn’t take reservations, but told me to just put our names down 20-30 minutes before we were ready. Of course, at that point, the place was nearly empty and the hostess told me not to worry about it. When we got there less than half-an-hour later, however, the place was packed, and we ended up waiting over an hour to sit down. As we waited, we became acquainted with two cheesy d-bags, and, in true blacktress fashion, the baggier of the d-bags took a shine to me. His name was Keith, and he looked like a cross between Andrew Dice Clay and “The Situation,” from The Jersey Shore.
Not cute.

I love "The Dice's" bedazzled vest.

He spent much of the time pestering me to have a drink and telling me I needed to “loosen up,” by which I think he meant, “drop my panties.” He then told me I looked like Kelly Rowland from “Destiny’s Child,” after explaining that his friends tell him he looks like Billy Baldwin. He really brought it home when he said,
“We’re gonna be in the tabloids tomorrow! It’ll say, ‘Billy Baldwin has a case of Jungle Fever!!!”
Um, check please!

Oh wait, it’s 10pm and I HAVEN’T EATEN YET, so I can’t get a check.

The night was quite tame, as you can probably guess from a guest list that includes 6 docs who were either coming off of, or preparing for, an overnight shift. The girls were nice, but as the Maid of Honor and co-planner put it, “they're completely sleep-deprived people, which clearly translates to functioning at a level that hovers below normal humans.”

At the end of the night, I gathered my passport and other paperwork and headed to Greenpoint, BK, to hang out with Jewboo. After being accosted by “The Dice,” it was nice to hang out with a man who respected me despite the fact that my boobs were prominently displayed. The next morning, we had brunch with two of his old friends, and I tried my best to make a swell impression. As expected, the male friend was easy to get along with, quick to laugh, and perfectly content just shooting the shit, while Jewboo’s female friend was a bit quiet and reserved, making me nearly nauseous with nerves.

After that ended, we hung out for a bit, and Jewboo and I took a nap at around 4:30pm—cause we’re classy like that. I was clearly coming off of an emotional hangover of hanging out with the “Grey’s Anatomy” extras and trying to impress bf’s friends and needed to rest. Things were all well and good until I decided to break out my first cry of the new relationship, which we all know is the first nail in the coffin. Afterwards, I wanted to crawl into a hole and die, but I consoled myself with the knowledge that it had taken me 6 weeks to break out the waterworks, which definitely constitutes growth.

As you can imagine, the blacktress has a flair for the dramatic. Part of being a successful blacktress requires an ability to “easily access” one’s emotions, which means I can cry at the drop of a hat. The story of conjoined twins separated, a moving Chris Meloni monologue on “Law & Order: SVU,” or even just a particularly deserving “America’s Next Top Model” winner can bring a tear to a blacktress’ eye.

This easy access to emotions, coupled with my deep-seated need for approval and fear of dying alone means that one sideways glance from Jewboo after hanging out with engaged girls, and I’m blubbering like an idiot, because I’ve failed in my duty gf.

See, I’ve got this twisted perception that I bring two things to the relationship table: orgasms and food. After all, that’s the only reason heterosexual relationships function, isn’t it? Men don’t want to talk about feelings, they don’t want to be challenged in any way, and they don’t really look for a “partner,” so much as easy access to both food and vag….right?
Clearly, I’m a hot mess, suffering the aftermath of an absent father figure. For those of you who are surprised, I suggest you start reading this blog from the beginning.

Anyway, things are okay now, but I spent much of yesterday waiting to be IM’d, and then caving and IM’ing him with a stupid question…because in my head I am a 17-year-old in a CW drama, and I suffer from mild autism.

Anyhoozle, I’m glad that’s all over. Going to bed at 11pm last night was awesome. I feel way more emotionally stable. And even though I haven’t received so much as a “thank you” from the bride-to-be, I don’t mind, because it helps fuel my self-righteous resentment.

I’ve missed you guys. I’ll be back with funnier blog posts soon.

Thank God It's.....Time For 16 and Pregnant!!!!

Happy Friday, Y'all!!
I've hit a new low in my levels of procrastination. I am about to spend the last hour of work watching this week's ep of "16 and Pregnant" online.
Of course, I will live-blog every moment. Let's do this.

4:35 - Lizzi's from Smithfield, "A small conservative town on the coast of Virginia." Her parents are divorced and she lives with mom, but dad's still on the scene.
"Skylar works at a thrift store and is studying to become a professional glass blower." - Way to pick a winner, sis.
"I love playing in the marching band.... maybe one day I can play in the Virginia Orchestra."

September - 5 Months Pregnant.
- Lizzie dropped out of school and is now homeschooled.
- "I live with my mom and after the initial shock, she's really excited about being a grandma" - Wow! We've got a mother who actually doesn't want to strangle her child. I guess I should be happy, but I'm kinda worried. What sort of dreams did you have for your kid if her high school pregnancy barely raises your blood pressure?

- Luckily, the dad has some sense (um, paging Dr. Phil, I think I know why these two got divorced.) "I thought you were on some kind of contraception," he says, like a rational human being who expected more for his child.

Mom explains: "She was until it came time to have the yearly check up, but she refused to go because she didn't want to have the gynecological exam." - What?! You'll let some dude who works at a thrift store diddle your fiddle, but you won't let a medical professional check under the hood?! You gotta make sure the brakes are working before you take the car for a drive, girl!!!

"I wanted four kids - I'm just going to space them out more now."
"I hope bring pregnant doesn't get in the way of my dreams, cause I've got a lot of plans." - Oh, Lizzie, boo bear, didn't you see season 1?

- Skylar's moving in with Lizzie and her mom and they're turning the spare room into a nursery. - Ooh--look--unlike Leah from last week, they have paint!
(oh god, what's happening to my priorities? I think this show has skewed my perceptions of what constitutes success and happiness.)

- "Are you gonna teach our kid glass blowing?" Way to lift up the next generation, kids.
- "I don't miss public school that much, except I miss my band friends." She and her band homegirl go get pedicures--wow, they are both really blonde and bright-eyed. I guess in Virginia, band girls aren't geeks

Lizzie to her friend: "Do you think I'm ready to be a mom?"
- "Of course!"
Why would her friend lie to her like that? Maybe it's nail polish fumes.

4:43 - They're having a girl, and they're naming her summer! Oh, so sweet. I hope they don't spell it some fucked up way like the rest of the girls. Something cray-cray like, "Somemur"

4:44 - Lizzie's latest delusion: "Everyone thinks I'm going to have to give something up. I'm sure I can play in the Viginia orchestra and still be a mom."
[Oh, I love watching online--no commercial. But it's harder to keep up!]

4:45 - 25 Weeks Pregnant
They go pumpkin picking. "I'm just worried about the money cause you're the only one that's working." - Homeboy works part-time at the thrift store, what did you expect?!

Lizzie practices her flute in her bedroom at home. Cut to Skylar playing terrifying war-like paintball in the Virginia fields.
This is a match made in heaven.

4:46 - Skylar tells his boys he's thinking of proposing to Lizzie! What?! They've been together 8 months. Good lord, why do they feel the need to make one problem even worst?
4:47 - Jessica and Jackie come by in their homecoming dresses. She shows them the dress she would have worn if she wasn't knocked up.
"Don't get pregnant," Lizzie yells after them. HAHA!! Good girl.

"Since I'm not a public school student, I'm missing out on the harvest parade." - Wow, I love how in VA, public school is the total opposite of the way it is in other places --it actually OPENS UP doors. Without public school, you've got nothing.
"I guess parades aren't as fun when you're standing on the sidelines....it really sucked not marching with the band in the parade yesterday."
When were parades ever fun? I mean, besides Gay Pride.

4:49 - Skylar goes to Dad Rick's house to ask for Lizzie's hand in marriage.
"I'm in no hurry for you guys to get married. I'd hate to feel that you think that you have to get married just because you have a child."

I love Rick!!! He is bringing TRUTH to the table. He is totally making me rethink my hatred of men with mustaches. Perhaps his facial hair is where he keeps his wisdom.

4:50 - December, 30 Weeks Pregnant
- Lizzie has no eyebrows, and it's making me uncomfortable.

- "I knew we'd be together, cause I wanted you, and I got you, and I get what I want."
Um, Okay, Lizzie, you're so cool and badass.....and throwing away your LIFE!!!!!
- Skylar's going with his dad to pick up a ring--in a pawn shop, it seems. How can you pick up a ring in a place with guitars on one wall and guns on the other?
- Skylar is taking Lizzie out to dinner at her favorite restaurant - CRAB SHACK!!!!
HIS IS AMAZING.
- I love how their conversations just consist of asking each other questions about how they felt, will feel, and feel now. "Did you think we'd be together this long?"
4:53 - AAAHHHH, Skylar is getting down on one knee!!! He proposed.
"Yes" [she laughs] "You make me giggle."
Um, really? She's such a
4:54 - Lizzie's with her friends getting food. There's one random black boy with 5 white girls. I really hope he's the group gay.
4:55 - "I'm excited because I have the perfect boy, and the perfect ring, and I can't wait to have the perfect baby."
Ew, she's soooooo silly. She thinks love is all sunshine and flowers. She doesn't have a high school education, he probably earns $10/hour, and she has no job prospects and will live with her mother for the rest of her life. Ok, I'm glad she's up-beat and doesn't hate herself, but I do not watch this show to get behind teen pregnancy, people. I'm gonna need her to change her tune real quick.
4:57 - "I never though I'd be wearing an engagement ring at 17--I thought it'd just be my belly ring." - I can't believe this is real.
She inserts the belly ring that just arrived. Inserts it into the button of her pregnant belly. Nothing about this is cute.
4:58 - BABY SHOWER AT SKYLAR'S HOUSE!!!
They get some pretty cool swag. This may be kinda classy.
Oh, wait, they broke out a cake with photos of Lizzie and Skylar as babies. I retract that previous statement.
4:59 - Lizzie's dad makes an announcement. Lizzie has graduated home school and is getting her diploma!
She doesn't seem to be very excited.

5:00 - Uh-oh, some texts are going around saying that Skylar cheated on Lizzie with Krista!
Oh my god, why is every single girl in this town blonde? Like, platinum, "Children of the Corn" type of blonde.
5:01 - Lizzie confronts Skylar about it, and he comes clean!
- "I made a mistake a little while ago...."
OH SNAP!!! TRUTH COMES OUT!

- "It makes me feel stupid, and self-conscious, like it's my fault. Like something I did led you to do that." - Um, Lizzie, you're interpreting this all wrong. You're not stupid for not knowing your man cheated on you. You're stupid for not going to the gyno for your yearly exam so you could get more birth control.

5:10 (Okay, I could go home now, but I'm too sucked into this episode. I just had to pause it to say bye to a coworker, and I realized I should be living a life, but I can't not find out how Lizzie and Skylar handle his infidelity)
- January, 35 Weeks Pregnant
Skylar's out of the house. "I took all his stuff and put it in a box. I don't know, my room got de-Skylar-ized." Hello, grammar humor--someone's graduated home school!!
- "To keep my mind off Skylar, I've been focusing on college...I've decided to put my dreams of playing in the orchestra on hold to go for a stable job as an ultrasound technician."
- She goes to a college counselor to find out what she'll have to do - shit ain't easy!!!
- Now she's willing to give Skylar a second chance -- she knows she can't do this solo (maybe she did watch last week's episode). They're back together, but she's not gonna put her ring back on.

5:15 - 37 Weeks Pregnant - LABOR TIME!
- Lizzie's being relatively calm. It seems like the labor didn't take too long, and Lizzie barely even broke a sweat.
- Now she's breastfeeding. "It's taken an hour, and I haven't been able to eat my food." Um, Lizzie, get used to not being able to do basic things for yourself. "I'm determined to breastfeed, because it's cheaper than formula."
- 2 Days Old - discharged from the hospital!
- 2 Weeks Old. Lizzie's over breastfeeding, and has switched to formula. Way to stick it out, champion!
- They're reeling over the expense of diapers and formula.

5:20 - 3 Weeks Old.
"Tomorrow's my first day back at school and I really need to sleep, but Summer's still not sleeping through the night, which means neither am I." - Um, "still?" She's only 3 weeks old. What on earth did you think would happen?
5:22 - Leah's staring over Summer's crib with her pale skin and jet-black eyeliner. I'm not even a baby, and I'm terrified.
- Aw, Lizzie and Skylar are kinda cute. I love when the teen dads are present.
5:25 - Lizzie's decided to drop out of school. Wow, Summer's not even 4 weeks old. How quickly we flip the script.
5:27 - I love the commercial MTV includes in each episode now: "Teen Pregnancy is 100% preventable. Learn how." Basically, they're saying "These girls are dumb."

5:27 - Lizzie goes to school to drop classes. The registrar tries to persuade her to just put them on hold, or hold off on one. Nope, she won't do it. She's gonna take a 6-week course in medical billing.

5:28 - She goes to tell her Dad, and again, Rick speaks truth and Lizzie CAN'T HANDLE IT!
She's so short-tempered with him, and so smart-assed. I mean, of course, she's a 17-year-old girl who thinks she knows everything, but she's not exactly living the dream and fine on her own. She needs to listen to Rick.

5:30 - Skylar and Lizzie go for a walk, and Lizzie asks him questions about his emotions and tell him what a great dad he is.

Ooooh, wrap up!!
"I had big dreams...but I found out I was pregnant and that dream kind of died...I'm not going to college anymore, I'm not going into music anymore, I'm probably going to be at home longer. It's bummed me out, but then I think of Summer and realize being a mom is better than going out and having fun."
Um, it's not just "having fun," Lizzie - College is learning about yourself, expanding your horizons, and giving yourself the best life you can.

Ugh, okay, at least she's working and her mother isn't trying to cut her, and her baby daddy knows how to change a diaper.

How on earth did procrastinating end up with me staying at work after 5:30 on a Friday? It seems I may not have been as clever as I thought.

I Wish I Was Above This Foolery....

but I'm not.

Hey friends!

I'm totes crushing on my new Jew boo. I feel like Ron Burgundy in Anchorman, after he and Veronica take a ride to "Pleasure Town." Like Ron, I, too, want to shout it from the rooftops, but I don't have a rooftop--I have Facebook (you know, the way Ron had a newsroom). Should I let the world know?

But what'll happen once he sees me cry for the first time and realizes I'm a hot ass mess? What a dramatic to-do when I have to change my status back to "single." Imagine all the awkward "likes" and "dislikes" I'll get. Imagine the comment feed--it'll be sad on so many levels.
Ugh. I wish I didn't have the emotional depth of a 13 year old.

Being boo'd up is cool and all, but it comes with it's own set of stresses. Now that I've found the fool, I gotta worry about keeping him--my legs aren't even used to being shaved this regularly.

Sometimes, when I wonder how the heck I got into this REALationship, I'm reminded of the perils of my single life. Take last night for instance.

I was IM'd by a random fella on FB chat (red flag #1 - who uses FB chat for serious?). He's a stand-up comedian I've met a few times over the last few months. The first time, he made quite the negative impression. It was at a party in BK, where me and my homegirl were dancing. This clown comes over to us and starts talking. He seemed normal enough, so we didn't shun him immediately. However, instead of plying us with questions, he proceeds to talk at us -- you know, the way male comedians are wont to do. After getting away from him, I bump into him on the lower level of the party as I'm heading to the bathroom. He comes over to me and after saying something so lame I can't remember it, he runs his clammy palm down my face.
He FACED me.
[not to be confused with the "face, face, face/I give face" that drag queen Bebe raps about in the song "CoverGirl (Put the Bass in Your Walk)"]
Who does that?! Who on earth clogs someone pores with their grubby, unwashed Bushwick hand???
As my friend Adam (you know, the one who went into the heart of Nubia) put it: "That's one of the creepiest things a dude could do without cause."

I ran into this weird toucher a few weeks ago after I hosted a show in Queens. He was sitting with someone I knew, and when the mutual friend introduced us, I reminded him of the "facing." He was not at all surprised or apologetic.

Then, on Easter Sunday, I had a show and he was also on the lineup. This joint appearance led to a facebook friend request from him later that day. Not one to turn down a networking opp, I accepted.

I am now paying for my friending haste.

Last night's chat started off innocently enough, although I was instantly on edge due to the fact that this guy is kind of a d-bag. I try to push him to get to the point, with a "to what do I owe the honor of this IM?" but I'm met with vagueness. Not one to be cocky, I try to see this as an olive branch of friendship--and I do love me some olives. However, I was promptly proved wrong, and reminded that, no matter how unattractive you may think you are, 9 times out of 10, a single dude who speaks to you has a desire to get into your pants. The convo veered in this direction:

Sketchy Stand-up Comedian: So, where you do live?
Me: Harlem
SS: Well there goes trying to charm you into a drink tonight :P"

Good lord. I give a weak "heh," then finally put it out there.

Me: Oh, you... unfortunately, I'm recently off the market.
SS: Just recently?

I say nothing and ask Adam how on earth I can ward off this person who I'll certainly run into at shows in the future. I try to turn the conversation into networking, and he mentions he's jobless.

SS-uC: "you can be my sugar momma if you want. i'll pleasure ya whenever and don't have to tell your bf or whatever this person might be haha"

W
T
F
?
!

See, if I was listed as "In a Relationship" on FB, I probably could have avoided this situation. Then again, Adam (he's my go-to for insights in the Caucasian male mind) reminded me that, "assholes aren't very easily detoured."

What do you think, gentle readers?--you're the boos I can count on to never leave me. Your opinion matters most.

xoxo,
LYLAS
-Blacktress

Ch-ch-ch-changes

Hello Gentle Readers,

I just received a distressed IM from an Aussie reader, wondering why on earth I've fallen off the blogsphere, and where the hell my "16 and Pregnant" posts are. This came after I revealed to her that I've taken up with a gentleman caller.

Yes, readers, I have a Jew boo. I done got boo'd up!

This started almost a month ago, and boy, time flies when you're enjoying interracial love!

I haven't written anything about him, mostly because I'm trying this new thing where I don't treat every aspect of my life like a joke or a scene from a reality tv show, and I think he may actually have potential, so I'm trying to keep my details incognegro. But after this morning's chat, I feel compelled to let everyone know why I'm such a mess with the bloggery.

See, guys, the thing is, he lives in Greenpoint. For those of you outside of NYC, that's far from my humble Harlem abode. We've hung out the last two Tuesday nights and this usually ends up with me getting home at 1am, with no '16 and prego' viewing under my belt. If we're not hanging out on a Tuesday night, I'm most likely in bed by 10:30, not even bothering to watch the first half-hour of the show, because I know I'll get more wrapped up than I can handle.

Y'all, relationships are work--did you know this? Srsly, dating someone is like having a second job. But not like the real job I have now--a relationship's a job you actually have to care about. You can't just gchat at your desk when you're in a relationship.
Unless it is an online relationship--in which case, you are being a model partner.

I'm sure this sounds obvi to everyone else, but seeing as the last time I was in a REALationship we had a white president, you can't blame me for being slow on the uptake. Apparently, you have to "compromise", be "attentive," and plan your schedule with another person in mind.

Not to mention there's all that time you have to spend going through his facebook friends to figure out which ones are his ex-girlfriends so you can figure out if they're prettier than you.

My god, with a schedule like this, it's no wonder I'm forgetting to blog.

But I'm back on it, readers. I will not be some chick who falls off once she gets a Jew boo. And tonight's special 90-minute episode of "16 and preggers," featuring a girl who gives birth to TWINS is something a blacktress can't miss.

You hear that, Australian fan?! I'm not gonna let you down!

16 and Pregnant, Season 2, Episode 2

9:56 - Ugh, I am so tired. I really want to go to bed, but I feel like the world needs me...to LIVE BLOG THIS SHOW.

I also know that I'll be able to sleep much easier knowing that somewhere out there is a teenager ruining her life and the life of her unborn child. (Save me a seat in hell!)
J/K (Rowling) GUYS!!!

These little jokes are how I keep my energy up when I'm dragging.

9:59 - Here it comes!!! It's almost like I'm the one giving birth....to my own happiness.

10:00 - She's 15 and from Monroe, Michigan--near Detroit! Good Lawd, if she's near the D, there's no doubt this'll be a shit show. I mean, hello -- Nikkole?! Who spells it that way??
We open with her at 30 weeks.
She used the pull-out method. Sweet Jesus, it's 2010! There should be no accidental babies in 2010!
Her BF, Josh, broke up with her when she told him she was prego. Now her homegirls are telling her to stop

10:02 - Her mother's name is Rikki. She looks like she's wearing a Jessica Simpson wig. You know Jessica has her own line of wigs, right?

10:04 - First day of junior year!! It's basically a debutante ball for her preggers belly. I love that she's wearing a sweatshirt and basketball shorts. At least get some cute empire-waist tops, Nikkole.
(ugh, just typing her name is hard for me)

Josh was waiting in the parking lot after school - homey got expelled. Why does she want this trifling fool? He's going nowhere fast.

10:06 - I love how, at 15 years old, Josh is like, "I'm done being a kid, I have a baby on the way." Um, clown, you dumped her when she said she was knocked up. He looks very fresh-faced. I think he's just doing this to get some screen time -- homey wants to be on "One Tree Hill" and figures he can add "16 and Pregnant" to his weak resume.

10:10 - Skateboarding commercial. Apparently, skateboarding is now about bridging the gaps between the races.

10:11 - 31 weeks prego! Of course no one else wants her to be with Josh.
Josh is talking to his mom. "I have to face it like a man. It's gonna be hard. I'm still kinda young."
Kinda?! KINDA?! Boo, you're an embryo!

All these girls have too much product in their hair. Sidebar: one of her girls is named Nekitha - and she's WHITE!

She's naming the baby Lyle. What, does she expect him to be born 40 years old, chewing tobacco on a porch? I'm imaging a Benjamin Button.

10:14 -Doctor's Appointment.
Josh won't even hold her hand during the check-up! WTF!
"Any contractions?" Doctor asked. "Not that I know of," she replies.
Um, "not that you know of? I know you're not the brightest bulb, Nikkole, but I'd like to think you'd know if your uterine wall was ready to release a fetus.

10:18 - She goes over to Becca's house and hangs out with her and Sam. Suddenly she gets a call from Josh:
"Leave Becca's, go get five dollars, come to the football game."
What on earth does he need five dollars for? How much do you think crack costs in Michigan?
And why does she let him call her home girl a bitch? Nikkole is not only dumb, but spineless. At least Jenelle could yell at people.

10:20 - Prom dress shopping! ALas, Nikkole can't fit into anything, cause she's hefty.
Josh is rushing her to get the hell out of the store. He's so selfish and mean - he's even worse than Andrew (see last week's live blog).

Josh is saying that he'll be in the parking lot while she's at the party. He is so sketchy and creepy. HAVE HE ENROLLED IN ANOTHER SCHOOL???

10:26 - Homecoming time!
Nikkole actually looks really cute in her dress.
- The whole time she's at the dance, she's thinking about meeting Josh and wants to leave. She goes outside to meet him in the parking lot, and he's not there. When she calls, he HANGS UP ON HER!!!
- She calls him again and he says he can't hang out! WTF? Is he getting a degree in douchebaggery instead of a high school diploma?
- She goes home and chills with her 12-year-old bro, playing Rockband. It's kinda sweet, but also sad. She should have gone back inside and enjoyed the rest of homecoming!

10:28 - She talks to Josh the next day to express her emotions.
He's remarkably manipulative for a 16-year-old boy. She explains to him how it hurts her feelings for him to not do what he says he'll do, like he might not be able to take care of her with the baby. His response:
"That's retarded....um, because... Whatever, we're not talking about this. It's all about you you you, being selfish. This is why I broke up with you before."

Wow. I have no words.

10:30 - Doctor's suggesting they induce labor, and Nikkole's about to pack her bags.
[COMMERCIAL BREAK. AAAAHHHH, HOW WILL I HANDLE THE TENSION???]

10:35 - We're in the labor room. Nikkole's struggling a bit. When you induce, it can take longer.
Josh, his mom, and Nikkole's mom are in there with her. Josh tries to be sweet for a bit, and is taking pictures of her, but she's not lying still and feeling crappy.
"Are you tired?? Why? You've slept all day." I love how impatient and entitled Josh is. Who raised him?

"I think guys' pain tolerance is super higher than women's is." - Thanks, Josh, thanks for that negative-two cents.
Why can't Josh be put down, like a useless dog?

She's in terrible pain, and Josh just won't shut up.

He's yelling at Nikkole's mother, telling her not to talk to him. His mother tries to be firm with him, but he won't listen.

They are fighting over Nikkole as she writhes in pain, 12 hours into labor.
"Say she [her mother] trumps me, Nikkole, I want to hear you say it." - He's giving her a fucking ultimatum when she's got a baby coming out of her vag???

I want this boy dead. This tool makes the guy who texted me after a first date with, "Why haven't I fingered you yet" seem like a total saint.

10:39 - 27 hours into labor, NOW they want her to push?!
Oh my god, maybe it's a good thing I'll probably never get married. There's no way I could handle that.

The baby comes out, all cute and gooey. Poor thing--born into dysfunction.

10:40 - Josh looks like he's about to vomit.
He has to be told to give her a hug and kiss. Really? Really??

10: 43 - Baby's 1-day old!
Mom won't let Josh into their house, so she's going home solo.
Wow, I can't believe she can even get up and walk to the car a day after giving birth!
Ah, yes, now she mentions the pain.
And cue baby's first cry.
I love how Nikkole's so disgusted by the spit up. Do all the girls on this show think babies are just warm Cabbage Patch dolls?

10:44 - Her friend Frankie comes over.
(Nikkole seems to be very popular - she's had, like, 8 different friends on the episode)

[Note, scrolling across the screen: PRE-ORDER 16 AND PREGNANT ON DVD AT AMAZON.COM.... You know you want to.]

10:46 - Rikki is crying, recounting her feelings during the labor.
"It's really hard watching that," Rikki says, wiping away tears. God, can you imagine what it's like watching your child with an emotional abuser?

Is Nikkole such a doormat because of her absent father figure?

10:51 - Lyle's 2 Weeks Old
- Josh is STILL not allowed over at Nikkole's house.
- Now Nikkole wants them to meet and work things out.
"One of the things I don't like is that you're disrespectful to many people. To me, Nikkole, adults." - Rikki says this in a really calm, kind voice.
"That's just who I am.... I'm not going to change."
WOW. I seriously don't know how he's allowed to function in the world.

- Rikki wants to put her on lockdown, away from Josh.

10:53 - 5 weeks Old
- Nikkole's back in school. At least she tends to the baby and doesn't pawn it off on her mom, the way Jenelle did.
- I love that, despite multiple feedings in the middle of the night, Jenelle still wakes herself up early enough to flat-iron her hair.

- Nikkole found out Josh is seeing his ex girlfriend!!
Oh, thank you Black Jesus, get him out of this girl's life!!

(I've noticed we see know other men in this episode besides the doctor. Perhaps the reason these women tolerate Josh is because... there are no men in the town of Monroe!!! )

10:56 - Josh admits he's seeing someone else.
I love that she says it's not fair to her for him to see other girls, and he goes, "What's not fair????"
Do you think it's possible to be sociopathic and retarded at the same time?

10:57 - Nikkole tells mom that Josh broke up with her.
Christmas time with the family!
Rikki really is a good mom, even though her hair is a hot mess.

10:59 - Nikkole is back in her cheerleading uniform - holla at a body bounce-back!

Whew, guys, this really got my blood pressure up. I started off tired, but now I'm all riled. Let's see if the preview for next week can chill me out:

Valerie and Matt - Interracial love!
Oh no, baby medical problems!!!
Y'all, you know I'll be here next week, same time, same blog.

It's Been A Long Time Coming.....

I think my favorite part would have to be Malia's pre-inauguration pep talk. Here's a quote from the Prez, found on This Week With Barack Obama:

For Barack Obama's historic Inaugural Address:

"And then we go and look at...Lincoln's second inaugural'' etched on the wall of the memorial, Obama said, recounting his daughters' remarks to him. "And Sasha looks up, and she says, 'Boy, that's a long speech. Do you have to give one of those?' I said, 'Actually, that one's pretty short. Mine may even be a little longer.'

"At which point, then Malia turns to me and says, 'First African-American president. Better be good.''

Oh, Malia, it was SOOOO GOOD!!! While I wished I could have been at home--or, even better, in DC--watching it bleary-eyed at 4am, then again at the Democrats Abroad inauguration party, I felt the same chills I felt on election night.

So, um, Michelle, I'm sending in my application to be the girls' governess. I've got the reading list all set, and have no problem picking up dog poop.

Goosebumps--Tales of TRUTH

me: i know you're busy, but i just found a NEW office gay

Kathleen: nice

me: i was in the kitchen, talking to katey about how i hate men

and i just looked over at this dude who was at the vending machine and was like, "WHY AM I SINGLE?"

and turns out he's gayer than a christmas goose!

he goes, "all my girl friends ask me that. you need to leave new york and find a man somewhere else, club him over the head, and drag him back here."

Kathleen: haha

nice

so true as well

how is a christmas goose gay??

me: katie

that's not the point.


What is the point is that this man--a total stranger just in need of a can of Schweppes--knew the problem. He went on to say, "The thing is, to make it in this city, you have to be sort of an egomaniac [TRUTH], and it's hard for an egomaniac to be in a relationship with another person. And then, being a strong woman, it's even harder."

I mean, does he get me or what?
God bless a gay Christmas goose.

This is what I would cook for my boyfriend every night, if he ever decided to love me. Notice the two glasses of red wine.

Why Dawson's Creek Has Made It Impossible For Me to Have a Healthy Relationship. Ever.

WARNING: The following post has nothing to do with BHM...unless you count the fact that it was written by a Negress.

Looking back on my fiascos with members of the male gender, I have often wondered if there was something inherently wrong with me. Despite being a smart girl with above average social skills, when it comes to guys, I can be dumb as bricks. Honestly, I may be some sort of idiot savant; a female Rain Man who just can’t function in the presence of a Y chromosome (I’m not sure what the “savant” part is yet). If I had a nickel for every conversation I’ve had that started with, “I just don’t understand why he doesn’t LIKE ME!” (often slurred through tears), I’d have $5.65, easily. With college and high school behind me, I am finally in a position to redefine myself and break old habits. I, my friends, am on the road to recovery. And I have completed the first step: I admit I have a problem. I am now onto the next step, which is identifying the cause of said problem. Now, while it would be quite convenient to blame my mother, father, or one horrible date, I won’t take the easy way out—no sir.I blame Dawson’s Creek.

This realization happened a couple years ago, and is really resonating now. Let’s travel back in time, gentle reader…

6:00pm—the height of rush hour. Me and at least half of Manhattan are packed into one subway car. As I grip the center pole for dear life (and try to inch away from the old man who is coughing up a lung), I overhear two teenage girls having a conversation.

“Wait, Rachel, are you still dating Cory?”
I immediately look up. I love gossip, even if I have no connection to the parties involved.
“Yeah,” Rachel says slowly. “Melissa, don’t give me that look— it’s going good.”
“Really?” Melissa rolls her eyes, and pauses. “Rach, he was a total asshole at homecoming.”
“I know, but it’s okay. Afterwards we talked about it and he was like, ‘Nothing happened with Lana, I just want to be with you.’”
“He really said that?” Melissa softens.
“Yes.” She nods intensely, then leans in closer. “He even said, ‘You make me want to be a good boyfriend.’”
“Oh my god, he totally pulled a Pacey.”
"I know. It was so sweet. I’m like totally his Joey.”

The girls go quiet, as they think of Cory with tenderness. The subway lurches forward and the old man knocks into me, filling my nostrils with the smell of tobacco and phlegm.

For those of you who spent your childhoods doing productive things like reading and playing outside, “pulling a Pacey” refers to the character arc of Pacey Witter, from the hit teen drama Dawson’s Creek. Pacey went from reckless smart aleck to sensitive, intuitive businessman over the course of 6 seasons. Though Pacey is in no way a real person, his personality and character arc can be referenced as though you were speaking of an old friend.

And I don’t know what’s sadder—that the girl did this in conversation without a hint of irony, or that I actually knew what she was talking about.

Dawson’s Creek debuted on the WB network in the winter of my freshman year of high school—or, as I like to call it, the worst of times. There were 34 new students in my grade, and cliques were rivaling for those that would best fit their membership. Meanwhile, this madwoman—let’s call her “my algebra teacher”— was oppressing me with crazy rules that were just not gonna fly. I said to her, “Listen lady, you cannot just come into my life and tell me a letter stands for a number and expect me to be okay with it.” She disagreed.

Anyway, back to Dawson's. The episodes often began with a long shot of suburbia in all its glory. Capeside: A beautiful coastal every-town, where Caucasian youth brim with hope and enthusiasm. It was pretty much a walking Abercrombie and Fitch catalog. If you’re a viewer who is darker than a paper bag, you already feel a little awkward.

Sidebar: Why do television shows that are meant to appeal to the 18-34 year old demographic function under the assumption that there is only one White/right way to appeal to them? There are many places in America where the minority is rapidly becoming the majority, and the refusal to reflect this in popular television only serves to alienate those groups and reinforce stereotypes. Hell, I go sailing. I love it. I eat Chips Ahoy cookies, I watch Gilligan’s Island. Why didn’t we see a blacktress paddling up the creek?!

Sorry, I digress.

Jen and Joey were the ladies of the creek; they were cut from the same cloth, but Jen was the left over scraps. And for some strange reason, both of these girls fought of the affections of television’s worst leading man.

Yeah, you heard me. Dawson Leery was a lame-o. That’s Spanish for “one who is lame.” As I’ve already said, I was a film major in college. I knew guys like Dawson, who constantly quoted movies, lived life as though it had a soundtrack, and wanted to be Spielberg—these guys had no friends. On top of that, Dawson said things like, “I'm talking about the romantic apotheosis.” And “It -- you call it wish fulfillment or delusion of the highest adolescent order. But, Joey, I'm tellin' ya, something primal exists between us.” No one between the ages of 12 and 22 talks like that! First of all, you don’t learn such words until it’s time for the SAT verbal, and once you know them, you would never actually use them in conversation. That’s how you get bitch slapped. How anyone like Dawson got his own creek in the first place is beyond me.

I remember the first time I fell in love with a boy. It was my junior year of high school on the plantation and he was a new potential Massa. We instantly became friends and spent all our time together--he treated me like an equal, and he even liked Negro music. And he. Was. Cute. He was smart and funny and wanted to be a filmmaker—he was my Dawson (though much less lame and slightly more hipster). I remember watching Dawson’s Creek one night and actually crying, because I could relate to feeling like the rejected friend.

And the night I decided to write “My Dawson” a letter telling him how I felt…. Yep, I’d watched an episode of “The Creek.” As I wrote, I was tragic and hopeful. I poured out my soul, inserted song lyrics, and wrote in my best handwriting using a purple pen.I re-wrote it and re-wrote it, and finally decided I couldn’t take the pain any longer. He had to know how I felt so that he could finally fall in love with me. I knew if I could muster beautiful, flowing prose, he was would reciprocate just like the real Dawson. Guys were capable of such self-expression, I just hadn’t given him the opportunity.

So I handed him the letter one day after gym class, as he headed home. I distinctly remember it. He was saying goodbye and I tried to breezily pass the letter to him. When he asked what it was, I just told him to read it later, “No big deal.” When I felt the weight of the letter travel from my hand to his, it felt heavy. Later that night, I wrote in my journal, “he didn’t even know he was holding my heart in his hands. Perhaps he will give me his.”

And the next day, he came to my locker and smiled. We chatted as though nothing had happened. I knew that once we had a moment alone, he would talk about the “romantic apotheosis.”

But he didn’t. He never said anything about it.

When I confronted him, he said he didn’t want to say anything cause he didn’t want us to stop being friends.

So much for life imitating art.

I cannot count how many times I sat in front of the television watching, let’s say, Saved By the Bell or Pimp My Ride and secretly thought, “I want that.” As kids, we wanted the toys or the Happy Meal; we were determined to “collect all four!” of whatever was being sold. As teenagers, we wanted it and the persona attached—whether it’s the hair color of a certain actress, a Quarter Pounder with cheese, or a ride that is indeed pimped. And these desires were far worse than a high-calorie nugget made of “chicken product.” After all, toys and food could be bought. But if you wanted to be popular or get a boyfriend, you had to change who you were to fit whatever standard was being held at the moment. Between commercials, teasers for the next episode, and the weekly onslaught of these television shows, it was impossible to shake these feelings unless you lived in an igloo. For so many young women, this want can extend far beyond material possessions and become an innate desire to change oneself and become someone that is not actually real. Such expectations set us up to fail and only reinforce feelings of inadequacy.

“Um, so what are you going to do about it, Sojourner?” You ask.

“I’m going to expose it for all it’s worth, like I did just now” I say to you confidently.

“And? We all know TV isn’t reality—“

“Even reality TV?” I lower my eyes over my spectacles.

“No, that’s different.” You mumble, taken aback by my clever word play.

“How so?”

“It’s real people in real situations, being forced to do crazy things. It doesn’t get any more real.”
I chuckle lightly and wipe my brow. “Oh, you poor naïve soul. That’s all editing and camera tricks. Nothing is unfiltered.”

“Wait, so you mean Survivor—?"

“Is simply a bunch of actors who got rejected from the cast of RENT, trying to make ends meet.”

“Yeah, well… your mom’s trying to make ends meet!”

“That was real mature,” I scoff, as you stop reading this bloggery.

“Oh, so you think you’re better than me now?!”

I don't.

You keep reading.

It's a hell of a lot better than watching TV.

Damn you, Caucasian youth!!! You get me every time!!!!!

Walkin' in a Whiteley Wonderland....

I’m really taking the motto of ‘erase, replace, embrace new face’ to heart. I think I have a new crush. After only two dates, I've weighed the facts:

PROS	CONS
-he’s not Australian -he’s not foreign in any way -he’s a tall glass of skim milk (I don’t want osteoporosis) -he’s not a racist -he doesn’t want to cum on my face -he has no idea what a black fur shrug is, let alone has the urge to purchase one. -he's not blacktose intolerant.	-he lives deep in Brooklyn (long-distance relationship) -he’s currently (f)unemployed -he’s from Indiana (which is kinda foreign) -he’s a starving artist -he doesn’t call me every day in a stalkerly fashion (I need constant reassurance) - his last name is WHITELEY!

Should it in some way be illegal for me to date a man with the last name Whiteley? I can’t decide. And it took me damn near an hour on the underground railroad just to get to his crib—can I really make this trek in the depths of winter?? Well, seeing as it’s damn near 80 degrees a week before Halloween, maybe I have a little time before I start worrying about the winter trek.

I think my real hesitation comes from the fact that I’ve been putting all the work into this imaginary relationship. I have initiated dates 1 and 2, and I’m wondering how into Sojo this whitey—I mean, WHITELEY—is. On one hand, his (f)unemployed status means that I’m the one with the schedule that needs to be accommodated, so perhaps that’s why he’s letting me take the reigns. Then again, it could be that he’s a lazy hot mess. How will I be able to find out without getting emotionally oppressed?

I know I should just let him call me and see what happens. But I can’t help but want to cook him lasagna and spoon him in his college dorm-style bedroom. Besides, the TRUTH of the matter is that I like him. He's cute. I'm bored. I want to cuddle. And he's not doing anything else. So, let's get it on til the break of dawn!

No? Too much? Leave advice.