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2010 - The Year Of The Villian

Sometimes I wish this blog was simply a notepad so I could really speak on it. For the sake of others I hold back and sometimes diminish the full therapeutic possibilities that I'm sure this experience has the potential to bring...

But then I might not be so motivated to write if I knew I was the only one reading...

Coming into 2010, I wasn't prepared for what was in store for me. It was by far the worst year of my life and it is one that I hope to never cross paths with again. But if I do, hopefully I will know how to deal.

In 2010 I became the villain.

I was ridiculed on Facebook.
I was insulted via text messaging.
I was on the lips and tongues of people who don't know me, nor do I know them.
I was mocked and vilified for my beliefs.
I was castigated for being me.
I was cursed and hated and blamed for everything. Then branded a helpless and less than respectable fool who's only talent is to play the role of the dramatic martyr.
Nearly every word I spoke was twisted into something I didn't actually say.
I spent many days stating, "That's not true."
I spent many more looking in the mirror and asking, "Well, is that true?"
I put one cheek forth only for it to get slapped. Turned the other one forward and it got slapped too.
I begged God for help and got deafening silence for a very long time.
I stopped speaking to nearly everyone I know.
I needlessly shuttered the doors on friendships because I had no idea who my friends actually were.
I became paranoid, not knowing who to trust and not wanting to trust anyone.
Finally I got strong in Him and thankfully let go of it all as best I could.

This isn't to say that I didn't play a role in any of the above. There are always three sides to every story.

While all of this was going on, I learned how to box --- a little. Besides losing a little weight, boxing enhanced my reflexes, taught me to understand my opponents movements, to anticipate where the next blow might be coming from and how to strike with pinpoint accuracy. The boxer's goal is to not get hit, wear out his (or her) opponent, expose their weaknesses and ultimately win, preferably by knocking them out.

The teachings in the ring began to spill out into my life. I began to prance and dance, jab, weave and slip. I studied and began to recognize my opponents movements. They were brazen and sloppy, uncoordinated, filled with boasting and pride, vicious but most importantly, telegraphed.

And after being made to feel as if I was the villain for a better part of the year, I finally decided to become that which I had been called and found myself savoring it. I used my pain over the mess that my life had become as fuel. Maybe it was like the Art of War, though I've never read that book. Maybe I simply began to grow strong by using my opponents weaknesses to my advantage. My opponent quickly became my prey and I began to circle, like the wolf or the serpent, all the while allowing myself to remain being perceived as the less than respectable fool.

I began to see red...blood was in the water. I was ready to strike and make sure my opponent didn't get back up.

But then during a particular thorny session I decided to share all this with my marriage counselor...

"But Eric," he said to me. "There's no turning back from what you're talking about. This isn't some enemy you're talking about. This is your wife. No one will win. Regardless of what is happening right now and I know it hurts...with love you can turn this around. I promise you."

And just like that he cast out the villain (another name may come to mind for some of you reading this). The villain retreated and left me, the broken Man, the proud but doubting Dad and the unsure and quite possibly unloved Husband, behind to put the broken pieces back together. But unlike the movies where the enemy has been routed and the sun shines on all, to this very day challenges continue to erupt around me. I have no closure on this year, no epitaph for the insanity so the pain revisits often. Temptation frequents in its attempts to make me a real villain. I'm in an unfamiliar land and self-doubt comes to me every morning at 3 am, snatching me from sleep and keeping me up sometimes until dawn. This is when I am most prayerful, most humble and most beseeching the presence of the Lord.

"Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, Thou art with me..."

It would be too easy to become that which I was accused of being. I respect myself too much for that. I value life too much to join the ranks of society and assert the grand ME over everything and everyone else. If God gives me the breath to reach 40 I intend to celebrate mid-life, not have a crisis. Besides, my crisis is now. But I'd be remiss to say that I didn't experience several joys along the way.

2010 left my life scattered in pieces, but in seeing the pieces of me I now know how to get them all back to re-purpose myself and re-emerge victorious. Slowly I've been picking them up, piece by piece. When the victory does come it will be over negative thinking, self-doubt, destructive habits, wasted opportunities, nonsensical talk, joy-stealing, hopelessness, hatred and maybe most importantly, fear. Easier said than done. By far I am not a perfect man and I'm often not right at all. But I do know life is meant to be lived to the fullest. I definitely believe in Heaven, but I don't know what waits for me in the hereafter. All I have is right now. Yesterday is too late. It is a foregone conclusion. There is no promise of tomorrow. But beauty and joy abound right now. This can take any and all forms. Seeing a little girl's smile. Watching a boy you call "son" rapidly approach manhood and relate to you as a man. Giving a well deserved hug to a spouse during a moment when they need it much more than you do. Waking up and breathing fresh air into your lungs. Witnessing a pot of dirt grow into a little garden of cherry tomatoes. Whatever your reality may be appreciate all of it, from the little to the majestic. As bad as things may appear to be as long as you have breath in your lungs, you have the ability to find joy in this life. Grab it, hold fast to it, don't let go of it and don't let anyone take it from you.

If there is any gift that I can give to all of you, my loyal, loyal readers, that I am so thankful for, this is it. My words. In black and white. Please live. Please laugh. Please love.

I can't think of a better song that embodies capturing and holding onto the joy of life than this one below. Enjoy!

Lyrics | Robin Thicke - My Life lyrics

Whether your plans leave you alone, with family, with the one you love, at church or curled up in front of the TV. Get it started tonight. Live the dream tonight.

Happy New Year!

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Tough Talk

What exactly is tough talk? Is it an activity that separates the men from the boys? Is it gender specific? Is it rough and strong? Or is it simply saying what you mean and meaning what you say?

As a father I've finessed my tough talk from wild, brazen and mostly empty statements to calm, sincere, although often stern, conversational expressions of cause and effect and the subsequent consequences that follow. I try to make my tough talk teachable. This way I will hopefully reduce the need to repeat myself. This works mostly on the kids. I'd wager it has no effect on my wife at all.

Growing up in a yelling household made me a hater of yelling and for that matter a hater of noise. If I had my way I'd be living in an all white beachfront mansion a la Miami Vice with two maybe three pieces of furniture. Whatever. My point is that when it comes to the kids the less often I talk tough, the more serious it is when I do. Kids have this amazing ability to tune out noise once they register what they're hearing as noise. Raising your voice is at times a necessity, but in general I don't want my message to be lost on the kids because they can't get past the yelling. That's just me.

How about you?

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In Memoriam: Teena Marie

Anyone who regularly uses a computer should now know that Teena Marie a.k.a Lady T passed away on Sunday, the day after Christmas and if the facts are correct, her daughter's birthday. She sent out an ominous Tweet the day before. But for her maybe it wasn't so ominous. Maybe she felt it coming considering she had had a pretty severe grand mal seizure about a month earlier. Only she, God and Rick James know now.

I don't have anything profound to state about my first memories of her music. Like MJ, her music was always there at some relative's party, along with Rick James and Millie Jackson (wasn't allowed to listen to her though). I do recall being in love with her Teena for a little while (I think it was before I set eyes on Apollonia). But I also recall NOT making it a point that she wasn't African American (other than to argue to the death with other kids that she wasn't). My single one time thought on the matter was, That white girl can sang! And that was the end of it.

As a wanna-be DJ running around behind real DJs while in high school the joint below is the one that did it for me and sealed her music in my heart forever --- more than Square Biz or Portuguese Love or that other one that EVERYONE knows and loves. When the beat drops on this song (intro not available in the version below), my heart explodes every single time as if I'm hearing it for the first time.

And then of course there is the Gold Standard for duets (and temperamental love):

And if you should happen to have no idea who I'm talking about and/or have the time to sink your teeth into some good old R&B history the following video is for you:

Another great has been removed from the equation creating a lot more space for I don't know what.

Rest In Peace Teena Marie.

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O, Holy Night - Merry Christmas

Because I spent Christmas Eve stuffing my face with jerk chicken I am late posting this. Many of us Christians have lost sight and/or moved away from the true meaning of this day. Sometimes it frustrates me just as it did Charlie Brown so many years ago. It's nice to get a child's perspective on things:

May the joy of the season of giving wash over you like excitement does a wide-eyed child's heart upon waking up and realizing it's Christmas!

O Christmas Tree by Eric Payne

From my house to all of yours, Merry Christmas.

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The Vagina Dialogues

Early on in my daughter's life, her mother explained her anatomy to her.

All of it...

Though I protested, I don't really have a place in the Family of Women and accepted that my wife's actions were for my daughter's benefit. I, on the other hand, opted to refer to my daughter's nether region as "Middle Parts".

Nowadays, I'm on board. It's good to know my daughter can let us know if she has a UTI. But a new complication emerged. For me, that is. My daughter believes we all have vaginas or as told to me by Blogger's spellcheck, vaginae.

A month ago I was getting dressed and my daughter walked down the hall to traumatize me:

"Ewww, I can see your vagina!"

I immediately looked down at my boxer briefs and breathed a sigh of relief when I saw all was in tact and not out of place.

"No, you can't, baby."

"Yes, I can. I can see it through your panties. I can see your vagina!" She was practically singing at this point.

I sighed heavily and said, "I'm not wearing panties. Boys wear what's called boxer shorts," and weakly mumbled, "I don't have a vagina."

"Uh huh, yes you do!"

This wasn't the first time this has happened. I've actually lost count at this point. I usually stand there looking helpless while my wife (if she's within earshot) laughs until she cries.

So nearly five years into my daughter's life here I am doing what I never anticipated: having a conversation, at least once a week, about my daughter's vagina. And when we're not talking about hers, we're discussing mine. And my panties too.

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Lunar Eclipse

This morning my 15 y.o. son stayed up with me to watch the lunar eclipse. My wife and daughter slept through a rare spectacle that is scheduled to occur again on 2092. Accepting my own mortality and reflecting on it, I said the following to my son:

"Well, except for maybe your sister, none of us will be around to see the next lunar eclipse unless they figure out a way for people easily live past one hundred."

My son then says, "2092. That's like forty years from now."

I stared into the darkness of my living room waiting, waiting, waiting and waiting.

But there was only silence.

Moments later I spoke. "Shh...I don't think you need to say anything more tonight. God bless your heart."

He says, "Wait, it's only 2010," and begins to laugh. "Leave me alone, it's late."

"Uh huh, instead of Black Ops, maybe I should've gotten you 'Addition and Subtraction' to play on your xBox."

But he did stay up with me. Other than discussing basic math we had a nice time talking while waiting for the moon to disappear.

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Holiday Blues

It's easy to get caught up in the Holiday Blues...all that's wrong with everything so there's little to no reason to celebrate. Besides who's got the money? But this time of year should be about service. Service other with our time, our talents, our donated items and food, and if possible, money.

The holidays are also about this...

Maxwell & Auntie
This isn't my child. I just happened to have my camera handy.

Whether yours are little or almost grown, remember the time and if you can't find anything good for yourself then focus on their joy. A little bit will go a long way when it comes to the kiddies. My wife and I have opted not to give each other gifts for the sake of the kids. But I've gone a bit overboard with the decorations and the lighting. Why? Because happiness isn't in what you get, it's in what you give. And seeing my daughter's face light up each time she looks at our tree (and my son thinking I've lost it) is priceless and will live on in their minds after they've forgotten or destroyed the toys they get next Saturday.

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It’s been quiet over at the holler spot as of late. I’m going through this thing that I’ve always been going through but every so often, such as now, it wreaks havoc on my ability to write. This blog has grown and matured into a thing that I sometimes view as beautiful. Then there are other times when I think it’s pointless. It began about me. But then I got tired of me and started chopping it up about my kids. Then I got wary of discussing them online and turned topical. There is material aplenty in this department, but everyone deals with what is going on everyday. What more can I possibly add to the conversation? There are so many good bloggers out there blogging their asses off. Hell, even my wife’s Facebook statuses (stati) are the stuff of sitcom scripts, garnering comments that often reach into the double digits. So instead of writing about what I think is going to get me traffic or comments or what I think readers want to read, right here and right now I’m just going to write about something that’s been on my mind for quite some time: superheroes.

For those of you who have been around since this blog was conceived you know I have a certain affection for the completely imaginary/absurd when it comes to men who are super. Now mind you I’m not into everything super. Even though I’m African American I don’t dig Black Panther, Power Man or Steel. Black superheroes (who are written for the sake of being Black, diversity or whatever, rather than super and coincidentally Black (such as Storm who is African so she doesn’t really apply anyway)) are pandering and boring. I’m not into superheroes who can turn on computers or light bulbs with their minds, or ones whose sole power is to run fast, nor am I into the mystics, like Dr. Strange. Thor doesn’t really do much for me either. Captain America never appealed to me because all he is is strong (albeit forever young), he has a motorcycle and a giant Frisbee that defies physics and acts like a boomerang. I never thought Iron Man really had any powers. He just had stuff that made him strong. Strangely I absolutely dreamed of being the android, Vision, but hey who can make sense of their every preference? And I can’t say that I’m a fan of many supervillains other than maybe Venom, Green Goblin, Hobgoblin, The Joker, Magneto and of course Darth Vader, as he’s been mythologized in comics, books and video games, not portrayed in movies. Then there are my favorites: Peter Parker, the Amazing Spider-Man, Bruce Wayne, the Batman, Clark Kent a.k.a. Superman the Kryptonian, Wolverine, the crazy, feral man with no memory who is indestructible. Rogue, the chick who is all powerful at the price of not being able to touch anyone directly. The list is a little longer than this but not by much.

What brought all of this on? I was reading an article about Sony’s decision to can the original Spider-Man franchise’s fourth installment. Mind you this franchise put the B back in blockbuster weekends, but apparently due to extreme creative differences with Sam Rami (which after S3 I can definitely believe) it’s done. They are going to do a reboot and put Parker back in high school. Spider-Man 1 was so good. I’m not sure why they would do a reboot while the franchise is still fresh in this generation but what do I know? I digress. In the article they interviewed Stan Lee, Spidey’s co-creator and God of Marvel, and he made the statement that Parker is a boy who struggles with wanting to be more than he is. We are in a world currently gone mad (but mostly stupid), where priorities are all over the place, where children have more technology than adults, where athletes who run around in circles get paid millions of dollars to run around in circles, where I am forced to care about the lives of celebrities because their news is most of the news that is on the news. Politics? Please. All of this besides making me wanna holler, makes me occasionally wish I was more than what I am. I wish I could be so busied with the matters of saving others, keeping my head attached to my neck, or keeping intergalactic peace that I honestly couldn’t have enough energy to give a damn. And I’d be doing some good in the process.

Which brings me to the superhero’s paradox: Who is the person, the man without the mask or battle armor or the one with it? “Peter Parker who is secretly Spider-Man,” as the statement goes. What’s the secret? Spider-Man is a public figure. No one knows who Parker is. That’s the real secret. Spider-Man needs to keep Peter Parker secret from the watching world as well as the people he loves. A mask is made to conceal, but in the case of the superhero the mask reveals. Their true characters emerge in ways they never could when they are just wearing their God-given faces. Peter Parker becomes the un-defeatable wiseacre as soon as he pulls his down over his face. When the impossibly rich, super-polished Bruce Wayne dons his cowl his seething rage and borderline insanity erupts from within. Superman is Superman first, Clark Kent second. He is Clark Kent so he can exist among us and have some semblance of a normal life and stay abreast of what’s going wrong in the world (as a reporter). And interestingly enough under the guise of Clark Kent, he wears most of his wants and desires on his sleeve.

But don’t we all have that mask that occasionally reveals who we truly are? I watched my son playing basketball last week and I saw someone on the court that I don’t know at home. Confident, barking at opponents, knowing where to be, driving the basket, passionate, fluid, not exactly graceful but definitely on his way --- almost powerful. It was awesome to watch.

Several months ago in the midst of a heated “debate” with my wife, she said, “As far as that blog goes, I don’t know who is writing that or what he’s writing about because that certainly ain’t you!” [This is more or less what she said.] It felt like I had been kicked in the chest. I defended myself in the moment but many days later, I turned on my laptop and began scrolling through the hundreds of posts I’ve compiled here and genuinely began to wonder whether I’ve unknowingly created another persona in the form of Man, Dad, Husband. Or am I just truly my authentic self in written word? Is this site my mask and battle armor? Are the words/desires that I type here my weapons/powers?

Every superhero has his weakness, his Achilles heel. Superman has Kryptonite. In the case of Batman his greatest strength is also his greatest weakness: he won’t kill. Similarly, I love hard and even stupidly at times, both people and things I dedicate my passions to, and for reasons unbeknownst to me I believe I’m supposed to receive that same level of love in return. But I keep on loving anyway because I believe that there is real, life-giving (besides the obvious) power in love, even if very few others do or even know what this means.

Weaknesses aside, every superhero has a moment of reckoning where they analyze the price they’ve paid for living two lives. Despite all that he is as Spider-Man, Peter Parker is broke and perpetually losing at love. Even if he were to get his mommy and daddy back, Bruce Wayne knows he cannot cast off the monster he’s created though there are tugs at his heartstrings for a normal life. Iron Man (who I’ve come to love since the rise of Technology and personally careening out of control toward the age of 40), has been fully suited, passed out next to his true demon, an empty bottle of liquor, trying to make sense of it all. Kal-El, otherwise known as Superman, longs for a homeworld and family he’ll never know and struggles with being a god amongst men and being needed but feared and even hated at the same time. I, someone who isn’t even close to being average, let alone super, write a blog that now a modest few thousand people read from time to time. From the comments and emails I receive, readers actually have come to believe I’m somewhat insightful and maybe a little wise beyond my years. But in the real world, I’m as broke as a joke and have a wife who I’m not sure is able to love me two days in a row in any week of the year. I have a son who most days of week comes off as if I am having no impact on him whatsoever as he heads into manhood (he’s a teen so I try to keep this in mind). Like the Dark Knight, I’m a guy who’s lived long enough in the lives of those closest (extended family, too) to me to watch myself go from being the hero to the villain. I’m a dude who paces out in front of my daughter’s school pretending to send text messages while all the other parents saddle up in their German and luxury Japanese vehicles. After they’ve gone then I walk to my truck that I smashed in on one side backing out of my own garage and can’t afford to fix. At my wife’s company Christmas party I was literally climbing the walls, not sure what I was going to say if someone asked me anything, fretful that that someone was going to engage me in a real conversation and discover my true secret: I’m a guy who didn’t believe in myself enough as a younger man to pursue any of God's given gifts given to me that are my passions. My gifts are ones that I desire so strongly to give back to Him to glorify Him (and make some bread at the same time). Instead I opted to join the rat’s race and run at the rat’s pace only to discover that I don't belong, after trying again and again to fit in. I've never belonged, not even for a minute. And like most superheroes, I am an outsider to what society and most people consider and accept as “normal”. Fortunately for me my daughter currently believes I’m about as good as it gets when it comes to super men. When so many can’t or refuse to, she seems more than willing to see and extol the good in me, despite my missteps and flaws. She hasn’t yet been so tainted by the world that she opts to love conditionally and to judge without merit. I hope the world doesn’t rob her or any child of this naturalness. All I can do is pray against the inevitable.

So maybe I’m super after all. Like these fictional characters I have something to hide, but at the same time I am something that the world (Internet) views as honorable, complex, somewhat unique and maybe even half-decent. But at the end of the day no one really knows who I am. Like most combating a world gone mad (but mostly stupid), I’m trying to hold my family together in a world gone mad (but mostly stupid). And at what price? Pieces of me? My sanity? Never being at peace? Always waiting for the other shoe to drop? Wondering what life would be like without me? (No worries, I’m not suicidal) How would the people who depend on me, both young and old, get along? Or maybe it’s simpler than all of this? Maybe it’s just what people like Stan Lee and Bob Kane tapped into decades ago: wanting/aspiring to be more than you actually are and being forced to fight the good fight at the same time because of your powers/abilities that take turns being blessings and curses in your life. And then somewhere in the midst of the battles the hero emerges and realizes his calling.

I haven’t figured it out yet. If and when I do, maybe I’ll let y’all know.

Or, maybe I won’t. After all, I’ve got a secret identity to protect.

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Shopping At The Wig Store

Over the weekend my daughter's hair was unbraided and out, all over the place. At one point, I pulled it back into a ponytail for her and marveled how her curly tresses are nearly to the middle of her back.

Me: "Oh my God, baby girl! You have so much hair."

She smiled at me and looked like she was blushing.

Me: "Can I have some of that hair? Please!" I begged, playfully. "I need some hair."

She: "Nooo, Daddy!" She giggled.

Me: "Why not?"

She (still giggling): "You have to go to the wig store for your hair."

I literally busted out laughing, shot her a stern look, and then went back to laughing with her laughing at me.

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My Woody

After getting my daughter home from school she sat down next to me and said:

"Sharif (a boy in her class that she likes or who likes her - I can't really tell from her daily stories) said he's my friend today."

"That's nice, baby." I said.

"Today, he showed me his woody."

"He did?"

"Yes, it was little and it was hard."

I paused, looked up from what I was doing and looked at her. "Woody from Toy Story, right?"

"Uh huh."

I had to laugh.

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What Women Want: A Recap of the What A Single Woman Wants Series

A couple months back I launched a guest blogger series, What A Single Woman Wants, as an opportunity to share with us, tired and dusty married folk, what people on the front lines of romance are seeking. I wasn't sure what the call for writers would produce. The response was great. I then thought I was going to have to sit and edit, edit, edit. Instead I was blown away by the well crafted, thoughtful pieces I received. I was equally surprised by readers' response. Traffic was heavy for each post and it confirmed my site demographics --- the women far outnumber the men as far as readership here and when given the opportunity to voice their opinions, they will. If I was disappointed by any one thing it would have to be another function of these same demographics. The call for single women writers was open to anyone, and many did inquire, but in the end only African American women submitted articles. I believe love and the natural pursuit/happenings of love knows no color, class or nationality. Personally, I would've enjoyed hearing the thoughts of those who are white, Latina, Asian, pink, purple and polka dot in more than just the comments. Most of the experiences recorded here at Makes Me Wanna Holler - Man, Dad, Husband are common to all. Therefore, this blog is open to all.

So for the finale of this series I opted to change the title to What Women Want because single or married, the overarching sentiments expressed by these six single women can be applied to women in general. In fact, not only did these sentiments trump marital status, they trumped gender as well. What these women want in their man-to-be, everyone wants or has wanted in a partner at one point or another. This is their reminder to us all. Ladies and gentlemen, please get your pens and notepads ready.

Six Single Ladies on What Women Want:


Diamonte Hamlett says...

“Chivalry is alive and well; it’s just in all the men that women do not want”. [told to her by a man behind the register at McDonald's]

I was speechless. His statement was both a prophetic and descriptive analysis of my life at that point in time and even up until very recently. I had to admit to myself, several men had crossed my path and embodied many of attributes we as women say we want. These men were honest, thoughtful, romantic, unselfish, successful, committed, understanding, communicative, well adjusted and spiritual. While I wanted those qualities, I did not particularly want it from those men...

When someone asks me what I want, I am wise enough to admit that I do not know what I want. It has become clear that this journey is less about what I want and more about how I plan to be a person of sound enough character to handle it once it manifests.

If we allow it, singleness can lead us to a love that exceeds our greatest expectations and colors outside of the lines of our best drafted list.

Click here to read the rest of Diamonte's guest post.


Brooke Dean says....

What draws me to a man like a moth to a flame is confidence. No, I don’t mean arrogance or cockiness. It’s not something that can be learned or faked. He either has it or he doesn’t. And I don’t just mean in the workplace, or in the bedroom or on the court. A man with true confidence displays it in all aspects of his life, even if not on a constant basis. In most cases, it needs to be generally present in the face of life’s challenges.

Click here to read the rest of Brooke's guest post.


Wynella Reid says...

Most days, I want nothing more than someone to greet me either when I get home from work or come in the door after me and wrap his arms around my waist while I change out of my work clothes. At other times I long for someone for whom I can prepare a great meal because I love to cook. (I want a man that I can fatten up so that no one else will want him. hah-hah). I would also like someone to do boy things with my boys. It’s a given that if you want to be with me you have to want to be with my boys. After all, if you want the cat you have to take the kittens too. At other times while the boys are in bed I want him to be the person with whom I can watch silly flicks or foreign films while cuddling on the couch.

Click here to read the rest of Wynella's guest post.


Veronica Miller says...

We all have our esoteric interests. So it’s not loving dance that’s important to me; it’s knowing that I love it and honoring that fact. The boyfriend couldn’t tell me the difference between a plié and a jeté, but that lack of knowledge didn't hold a candle to what he gave me. And in those moments of self-doubt and anxiety, that support is crucial. It could be the difference between a great audition, or falling flat on the floor.

When a woman has a one-man pep band playing for her, she feels like she can take on the world --- and whether she wins or not, she gets to come home to someone who’s still cheering, regardless.

Click here to read the rest of Veronica's guest post.


RaN'ae Bacon says...

What we really want is the opportunity to be everything to you as well. We want to be your lover, your best friend, your motivator, your #1 cheerleader, your hot chick that makes your friends jealous and your voice of reason. Most of all we want someone that wants and needs all of this from us. We want our man to appreciate and believe when we say, “Baby, you got this, because I got you!”

Click here to read the rest of RaN'ae's guest post.


Calandra Hackney says...

I had to ask myself do I exhibit the same attributes. In order to receive you have to give. Am I generous in my daily life? And I’m not talking monetarily. Do I give love, a nice thought, a blessing, do a good deed? And as far as spirituality I had to ask if I was being my best spiritual self. In order for anything that you ask for to manifest itself you to have to be what it is you are asking for. If you want love you have to be love. If you want things created in your life you have to be creative.

What single women want varies especially when we get down to specifics and type and all that good stuff but I believe at the core we are all looking for unconditional love in the mate that we are asking for and that love must first start from within. Once we are loving ourselves and operating through love, not fear, anything is possible.

Click here to read the rest of Calandra's post.

I hope this was as enjoyable for you as it was for me. We (myself and the single ladies) would love to hear your thoughts and opinions on this series in the comments section of this post.

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The Top 5 Posts of November

What better way to celebrate the 1st day of the new month than to talk about the month that just ended? The following were the top 5 posts of November:

  1. WIVES: In Your Own Words

  2. Love Is...Interrupted Sleep

  3. Threesomes (Revisited)

  4. The (Emergency) Shirt Off My Back

  5. To Be Loved Or To Be Lusted?

Have a favorite post from MMWH not listed above? Please, let me know in the comments.

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