One Dainty Day

On One Dainty Day:

It was a breezy afternoon the day I got my first pair of high heels.  The Italian piazza off on that tiny island La Maddelena smelled of freshly baked panini, and the air was crisp.  As my mom and I visited vendor to vendor often stopping to admire their goods, we indulged in some authentic gelato with premeditated plans for that ever-so-delightful Italian pizza that we often craved.  Of course, being born a fashionista (a trait that my mother bestowed upon me), I was automatically drawn to the avant-garde Italian fashions (even at the tender age of 8 or so).  The piazza was full of model-types, and I believe that even the average was impeccably draped.  At the time, I could not wait to grow up; I couldn’t wait to participate in my own couture.  Lucky me, I was amidst the prettiest clothes, and I have a mother who is just as into fashion and beauty as I am.  As we walked along taking in the sights and acknowledging the “chao bellas” from afar whilst trying to translate the foreign convos about, that’s when I saw them…what would become my very first pair of high heeled shoes.  They were chanting my name from the window, and the leather (I might add that Italy is renowned for its leather goods) was so buttery, I could taste it.  There they were, staring back at my eagerness.  Holding my hand, my mom must have felt my body jerk as I damn-there gave myself whiplash; simultaneously, she gave me a sympathetic smile.  We both knew that the result of that day was one of my first steps into my personal womanhood.

Meaningless sex with meaningless people-I don’t mean that they are meaningless because everyone has a purpose in life; however to me, they are meaningless because they serve no purpose in MY life…

This statement actually came out of my mouth in a very philosophical conversation I was having with Robanga. Basically, if you used to be my sidepiece and got disposed of, this sums up my sentiments.

I’m a woman, I can handle it.

This is obvi an important rule to live by, I know I do. Therefore, when I was in a conversation with Dyllan about a potentially hurtful (to myself) move that I was thoroughly considering making, she expressed her misgivings and concerns, to which I replied, “I’m a woman, I can handle it.” Here’s the moral of the story: Because I am woman, there really isn’t much I can’t handle.

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R.M. Drake sure knows how to describe the innerworkings of a woman, huh?

 

 

 

 

 

 

I ran across pictures of us the other day and I thought to myself, damn my hair looks good.

I was going through some old pictures recently, and I came across this one. I remember the event I was at with FPOTUS, and I smiled when I saw the pic. Immediately, I thought to myself, “Damn, my hair looks good.” the next day, I was sharing those deets with my sister, LaFlare, thus the quote. Not missing what we had, no longing for a reconnection; at sight of the picture chronicling a happy time in my life, my superficial ass initially came up with this thought…wowza; but If I do say so myself, it did look go though, did it not?

Our Story in a Nutshell-The Prelude

(In a Teaching Composition class at my university, our professor instructed us to compose a short story using 15 of the 20 vocabulary words in a list…this is mine with Dufus as the subject.)

I Still Write About You

Once upon a time of uncertainty in a girl’s love life, she forced herself to believe in happiness again. Before New Guy came into her life, she felt that she was not viable, as a result of the turmoil of her last relationship. After spending quite some time being single, her days became monotonous, and she felt ready to relieve the ennui that her life had become. Over the period of a few months that turned into years, she silently noticed his anything-but-tawdry appearance in combination with his captivating personality, and she made a mental note. With a tenuous grip on her emotions, she decided to make her move in a laconic manner. With noticeable blithe in her voice, she approached New Guy. There was a noticeable plaudit in his voice that surprised her, considering the plethora of women in his surroundings. Desperately trying not to recite bombast, she suggested that they become acquainted, thus she became a harbinger for love.

Much to her dismay, he broke it off in a harsh and obdurate fashion, and without a suitable explanation. While listening to him obfuscate facts and say words that didn’t make sense, she hit an emotional wall. The betrayal of her trust in addition to the memories of their ephemeral relationship left her in an abstemious state. It was that moment of her newfound low which led her to construct a personal hedonism to live by.

Don’t follow, just get it.

During this time in my life, I was beating them off with a stick! On one ego-boosting evening, whilst on the phone with Robanga, I stated this phrase to some random. He was following me and repeatedly asking for my number. I was walking fast as fuck trying to meet up with Mr. Principles, but the random was admittedly sexy. Obvi, I didn’t want to deny him of my digits, so naturally I was shouting them out from across the street to him. Well, he crossed the street and persistently followed behind me, asking me to repeat myself (which I HATE). Consequently, in my true assholey fashion, I had to prevent Mr. Principles from seeing him, hence my statement, “Don’t follow, just get it [my number].”

Words of wisdom I choose to ignore.

A little while ago, Dyllan tagged me in a post with this quote.  Encompassed within the tornado of raw emotion in which Dufus was the wind force, I thought I could pretend strangers were able to replace the destruction he left behind. Let’s just say the aftermath involved some heavy denial on my part…hence the words of wisdoms (that I choose to ignore).

The last time you let a guy have his way with you, you got your feelings hurt!

This quote originally served as a reminder of failure’s past.  Dyllan gave me the ever-so-gentle reminder during a conversation we were having about a sext that I received from Chiquita.  At the time, I was planning a visit to the West Coast, where Chiquita resides.  As a part of the anticipation, we were continuously sexting each other when he asked if he could do pretty much anything he wanted, which I responded yes, but within “reason.”

As I was talking about this to Dyllan, she hit me with this little gem, “The last time you let a guy have his way with you, you got your feelings hurt,”  and she was right.

Riddle diddle, play ’em like a fiddle.

During an enlightening conversation with Robanga, I considered going back to my old ways in regard to how I treat men. It seems like once I began the departure from not caring, and arriving to the point where I display my feelings on my sleeve, the stars turned against me. I think that I was overall happier when I was slutting these men unapologetically, and if I remember correctly, I had way more (mentally and physically).  It was during this conversation that I was trying to convey the lack of fish in the water when the water is fresh; I feel that it’s only when the water is dirty that the process of elimination can begin because there is a higher quantity of fish (guys only respond when they are being treated badly). Anyhow, when presented with my hypothesis, Robanga concurred stating, “Riddle diddle, play ’em like a fiddle.” To that, my response was strictly contained within my thoughts, but I decided that it was definitely something to consider. Keeping in mind that it is a cold world, and winter is a coming, perhaps I should treat them like coats and as a fahionista, I switch them up regularly 😉