I Can’t Stand The Rain

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I live in Los Angeles and this winter has been filled with gloomy precipitation. Not figuratively, but actual inches of rain. One night, it stormed so badly, rainwater seeped through my bedroom window and woke me up with a splash. That is a pretty random occurrence when you sleep alone… OH right… remember that guy from my last blog post in 2013?

Well we broke up. I spent the past 3+ years going through quite a rocky relationship. In December 2015 he proposed and about six months later I gave the ring back. Boo-hoo. Sad story. Don’t worry, though. I won’t waste your time with the details because there are funner (yeah, funner) things to talk about!

I’m back on my single shit and dating has gotten MUCH more interesting since I’ve learned a few more tricks. If you are at all interested in my dating escapades, stay tuned. But if you’re the subject of one of these stories, I promise I won’t publish your name.

Furthermore, the ‘New Edition Story‘ which aired on BET in January was quite possibly the best three nights of my television history. I mean, nothing had me glued to the screen more than The Box, Orange Is the New Black, and every episode of Flavor of Love. Luke James (blesssss that man and everything he pursues in life!) as Johnny Gill had me on fire. And still does. Kudos to the entire cast; they were spot on.

But can I just vent for a moment? The boys sang “Can You Stand the Rain” (like no other rendition you’ve ever heard, might I add) and I got caught in my feelings. The lyrics say:

On a perfect day I know that I can count on you
When that’s not possible, tell me, can you weather the storm?
‘Cause I need somebody who will stand by me
Through the good times and the bad times
She will always, always be right there
Sunny days – everybody loves them
Tell me, baby, can you stand the rain?
Storms will come, this we know for sure
Can you stand the rain?
Love unconditional I’m not asking this of you
And, girl, to make it last I’ll do whatever needs to be done
But I need somebody who will stand by me
When it’s tough she won’t run
She will always be right there for me.
Speaking on behalf of my last relationship, how long is it supposed to rain? Los Angeles has no idea where to store all of our water and we are still in a drought. Seattle gets rain damn near daily and it suits them fine. But rain in a relationship–are we supposed to ALWAYS BE RIGHT THERE? Hmm. Thoughts?

Ode to 2013

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Has it been a year since my last post on relationships? Wow. I must have spoken some positive things into my life because I just celebrated my first anniversary with my significant other on April 18. And I still can’t fuckin’ believe it’s happening!

Let me see, where did I leave off…oh yeah. I was wanting and wishing for love in the form of a 6’2″ chocolate package with broad shoulders and a great smile. I got three out of four! No complaints. So I met this guy at the Kiss ‘n Grind party. It’s an event which comes 5-8 times a year to a spot in Los Angeles featuring exclusive DJ sets.  Long story short, he approached me and said I was gorgeous and he’d like to buy me a drink (and maybe dance) later. I agreed, we exchanged numbers, I enjoyed my drink, our first date was at Bossa Nova, and here we are today.

The first few months were full of arguments and conflict, mostly started by me (yeah, I confess). Inviting someone into your life and learning their character, mannerisms, and habits can prove to be quite challenging. Ultimately, you’re trying to figure out how they fit into your life and vice versa. The hardest part is breaking down walls of secrecy and fear. Operating a relationship out of any sort or toxic behaviors will lead you to doom.

Once we learned how to navigate day-to-day and keep each other happy without yelling insults, things got fun! All in all, I’m really looking forward to a great future with this man. Might have to consider him a beneficiary on some accounts. But the funny thing is, this blog is likely to turn into one of those ‘savvy homemaker’ blogs where I post about DIY projects, recipes, and how to manage babies’ hair. I can feel it coming.

Stay tuned.

I Don’t Like Telling People I Love Them

Maybe I’m insecure and have way too much regard for others’ opinions of me. I don’t like saying ‘I love you’ because I don’t want there to ever come a time when they doubt my love. I get mad a lot. I get attitudes. But I still love you.

I once told someone I loved them before they ever said it to me. For a couple days, I had that take-my-love-back feeling since I was in limbo waiting for them to return the phrase. Then after a while, I let it sink in. I love you. That’s how Rhonda felt; Rhonda doesn’t control your actions, only hers. Eventually…they said it back.

In another incident, I said ‘I love you’ to someone following a very intense argument. The way they snapped, “And I love you, too” back at me wasn’t convincing at all! Where is your love in the midst of those harsh words you just spoke? Then I began to doubt their love for me.

So what does it really mean to say ‘I love you’? And what does it mean to hear it back at you? My guess is all of our interpretations are different. But one thing’s for sure: love doesn’t hurt.

To Those Who Wait

“You’re just a lover out to score, and I know that I should be looking for more. What could it be in you I see?” Denise Williams, Silly

“Time has taught me that having a piece of man is better than having no man at all.” Betty Wright, After the Pain

“It’s only fair that I let you know that the man you’re in love with, he’s mine. From the top of his head to the bottom of his feet.” Shirley Brown, Woman To Woman


By listening to these song lyrics, I get the notion that females have been desperate for males since before we evolved from monkeys. And Rhonda wants to know why! First of all, I’m single and I’ve lived in Los Angeles for a little over four years. I completely, whole-heartedly, one hundred percent comprehend the viewpoints presented by women in the lyrics above. But at the same time, I have to gain a little back bone and say ‘fuck that shit’ to these songs. I mean really–what woman calls up another woman just to tell her to stop cheating with her (alleged) boyfriend so she can keep him?

I can categorize the desperation I’ve witness in two categories: there’s the woman who chases/stalks/preys on a seemingly great guy that has all the characteristics she desires in a mate (and refuses to accept his rejection). Then there’s the lady who accepts bits and pieces from whichever man will give her his time (knowing he is feeding you lies and/or you deserve better). In either case, the thirst is real and we will do what we gotta do.

I have even heard stories of ladies who are reading books (*cough cough*…by Steve Harvey), highlighting passages like they are reading the Bible, and wondering why they can’t find a husband. Bit of an oxymoron, huh?

Part of me believes these are unnecessary extremes as a result of the notion that all the good ones are taken. The other half of me wants to jump on their bandwagon to prevent becoming Carrie Bradshaw. What’s up with that?!

At the end of the day, girls, we must remain hopeful despite the odds and, uhh, what reality has presented. Just because you prayed to your deity for a tall, dapper fellow with a black Infinity and bulging biceps, doesn’t mean that’s what is BEST for you. So stop looking! Chill out, keep dating, and wait for the next man to come around. If he doesn’t sweep you away, then maybe the next one will. Or the next one. Or the next one. Or the next one.

Yes. This is what I keep telling myself and, until I’m proven wrong, it is the truth. They say good things come to those who wait…

Rules Of Attraction

I was sitting at a table near the bar engaged in foolish conversation with some girlfriends. It was still early, so the crowd hadn’t filled the dance floor just yet. Condensation dripped down the side of my drink and onto my wrist like a creeping spider. I gently placed the narrow straw to my lips, looked deeply into the bottom of my cup, and almost choked on was I saw in my peripheral: 6’2″, cocoa-toned, crisp plaid shirt tucked into creased slacks, and polished black leather shoes. “There is a God,” I thought.

Not sure if the fresh haircut or tailored pants are to blame for my lack of words, but a thousand thoughts filled my (dirty) mind. I wanted him!

Fast-forward to my recap of that evening via telephone with my favorite platonic guy friend. He stopped me mid-sentence when I mentioned the ‘loser with dirty shoes who kept trying to grind on me’ after the tall beau got my number. He said, “Rhonda, Rhonda, Rhonda. You single women with your ridiculous standards cease to amaze me!” Pause.

Me: “So my desire for good hygiene is a ridiculous standard? You’re telling me that you, being the dapper gentleman I know, would leave the house in Nike Air Force Ones from 2007? That’s just trifling!”

Him: “I’m not saying that, but I’m saying just because a guy’s shoes are dirty…that doesn’t make him ineligible.”

Me: “You’re crazy. Wouldn’t you feel the same way if a chick had crusty dried up gel along the edges of her weave? Or a dirty bra strap peeking out? It’s the same thing! Tell me these examples don’t parallel a guy-with-dirty-shoes.”

Him: “Wellll…”

Me: “Don’t lie.”

Needless to say, this debate lasted a few minutes. In my mind I won my case by concluding that men have a certain list of expectations they’d like a woman to meet before getting the number. Yea, though this list is significantly shorter that a woman’s, it exists.

Can we judge a potential partner based on outward appearances? I mean, is that right/fair? Why must they fulfill specific expectations and criteria?

It’s simple–the rules of dating go back hundreds of years. Do your research and discover the time periods where traditions called for both parties (male and female) to present themselves in mating rituals wearing their best adornments. Let’s call it history. Let’s call it logic! You present your best self in a job interview, so why should you behave differently in a social setting?

No, I’m not saying you should trick off your dollars for fancy labels *cough, cough, JORDAN RALPH LAUREN HERMES cough, cough*. I’m simply urging you put forth your best foot, cleanest socks, and for God’s sake, brush your teeth.

And this one’s for free; there’s a direct correlation between your smell and a lady’s likelihood to give up the panties. 

Love, Honor, Obey, and Bullshit

Do you REALLY promise? Say yes.

Do you REALLY promise? Say yes.

After watching this week’s RHOA (Real Housewives of Atlanta), I couldn’t help but become deeply enraged with fury. For real! So y’all know I had to unleash it on the MacBook, right? Here goes…

First of all, I admire and respect the lovely Ms. Porsha Stewart. I see a lot of class in her, but I also see a small bit of insecurity. This week, the Housewives were upset with her decision to not go to the Vegas strip club with them. Porsha’s first reason was that Kordell wouldn’t be happy if he had known she was there; her excuse quickly became “I just don’t feel comfortable” in a matter of minutes (or so the segment suggests).

What’s the real reason? We may never know. Here’s the bottom line: Porsha wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize her and Kordell’s marriage. Whether he is/isn’t okay with her going to see strippers is a totally different subject. But let’s explore the allegations of him being controlling. The ever-so-fabulous NeNe Leakes was QUICK to lead this group of ducklings in bashing Kordell. Porsha would be a fool to listen to NeNe in that aspect!

In my opinion, like breeds like. And if Porsha ends up ‘like’ NeNe by following her (unsolicited) advice, she’s gonna be unhappy and unmarried. None of the Housewives have grounds to say A-N-Ything about what Porsha should or shouldn’t do in her marriage. I will go out on a limb and say that there are only two legally-binding names on the certificate of Mr. and Mrs. Kordell Stewart’s marriage. See where I’m going with this?

Let’s not forget the basics here, though. Kordell is an ex-NFL player with money. Porsha brings a little bit of cheese to the table as well with her family’s foundation. Do they complement each other? Yes. Should she love, honor, and obey her husband’s wishes? By all means. Can this girl stand on her own without Kordell? Umm…probably not!!! However, I stand firmly in supporting his traditional relationship views.

If your man (as the head of the household, not just some long-term boyfriend) requests you to be at home with dinner waiting once he arrives in the evening, do that. If he says keep the housekeepers in check, do that. If he says it’s time to lay up and pop out all of my children tomorrow, as long as he’s the breadwinner do that. What’s the big deal? Porsha knows her place and I’m sure Kordell is content with it. Can we say the same about Greg, Peter, Apollo, Todd, or even Walter? Un-fucking-likely. Hell no.

I’m going to leave you with this thought—relationships are about communication, compromise, and contingency. As long as each person assumes their role, then less conflict arrises. When dealing with men, we as women must must must must must learn to take down our defenses if we wish to nurture healthy partnerships that lead to marriage. Remember this post??? Now shut up and go make love!

Drive-Thru Relationships

I’ve been in love once. Twice. Okay three times. Who knows. Clearly this, um, lack of understand shows I know all about love and what I’m looking for, right? So let’s talk about what I have learned.

There was a spark of something in San Francisco that opened a new chapter for me and I really wanted it to go further. Had all the indications that it might look good dressed up in a suit. iCan’t do the long-distance thing, so it fallowed.

Flashback to the holidays of 2012. I met a guy online (I’ll never use that site again!) and I was interested in seeing what would blossom. And after our first date, we dived straight in–but not literally, so stop thinkin’ nasty. It was phone calls everyday, meet for dinner every other day, and then it happened. He called me ‘baby’.

I let it slide on at least eight different times, but after a while, I couldn’t take it! Something in me was screaming, “This is too much too fast and I HATE ‘baby’!” I had to tell him this.

But I tried to play it smooth, though. He was closing the car door and said, “Have a safe drive home, baby.” I reopened the door, got out of my car, and said ever so slightly to his chocolate face, “I really, really don’t like that. Can’t you just call me Rhonda?”

He argued at me for a couple of minutes. I listened. But deep down I felt a huge knot growing in my stomach; and it was saying I don’t feel the same way about you.  

A few days went by, Christmas came, we exchanged gifts, I made plans for his birthday, and then somewhere along the way our communication fizzled. The calls were less frequent. The morning gym pics stopped. And through a disturbing tone in his voice while on the phone one day, I stepped foot into Chipotle just as he muttered the words ‘maybe this isn’t working out.’ The end.

Of course we’ve had the occasional Just Friends phone call/text here & there since then. But it’s really over! Lasted all of a month. And I’m okay with that…partially. Here’s the thing: I can honestly say that I’m content with just dating and not being in a relationship. When you commit to someone, you have to give them all of you. Or at least enough of you to actually begin building a foundation. I don’t think I’m ready to do that.

I like being me. At the end of my 13hr work day, I want to come home and sit in the corner of my couch under a quilt with some pita chips + hummus and watch the first two shows on my DVR. In silence. That’s what I do, it’s how I unwind. Do I want to cuddle with you in bed & listen to your crappy workday stories? Or gain unnecessary weight eat some heavy dinner (over candlelight blah blah) just because you haven’t eaten since breakfast time? Or rip off my clothes and jump on top of you? Not all the time. And FYI, in a so-called ‘relationship’ there’s a lot of ME being sacrificed for US. Fuck that. I ain’t ready yet.

I look forward to wearing too-tight clothes to a lounge and have *clearing throat* gentlemen gawk at me. I get excited each time I go to the gym simply because there’s always a new hot guy on the weights. I love to flirt with a cutie at the gas station. All these indicators let me know that I’m just not ready.

So until next time, unless I land an extra value meal on my next drive-thru relationship, let’s all cross our fingers in hopes they don’t forget the cheese on my chicken sandwich. Swiss cheese.

This Is How It Goes Un-noticed

What on EARTH is a boundary?

Alright, alright. Before you get your panties in a bunch, let me explain. I found this picture on a blog yesterday & it has sparked a TON of outcry, controversy, and comments.

The man pictured in the photo is Bishop Larry Trotter of a church in Chicago, Illinois. He is seen with his four-year-old granddaughter; apparently she had wandered into the bathroom and wanted to take part in playing with bubbles. According to the report from Current.com, both the grandfather & the child put on swim trunks then she got in the tub with him. Of course in the picture, it’s not obvious whether they are fully nude. Anther article also proclaims the mother of the child took the picture.

After reading several blog sites where this image was posted and seeing viewer comments, I need to vouch my opinion. Shall we proceed? Good….

1) How was this little girl wandering into the bathroom? Granted, I didn’t grow up in a house with my dad, but I spent several nights at Grandma’s house with her & Grandpa. He never went into the toilet without locking the door. I don’t know the specific circumstances around Trotter’s household, but something about that fact didn’t seem right.

2) Why is the (grown ass) mother in the bathroom as well? TAKING THE PICTURE? Again, something about this shit is way too liberal.

3) The kid is age 4 or 5. I know how inquisitive kids are at age 2, so by 5, their tiny brains are cranking like factory machines. Fa sho. Even if she was wearing swim trunks, girls should wear a whole swimsuit. Period. She is at a very vulnerable age where it shouldn’t be okay to take a picture “topless” in the bathtub.

4) Did he forget he was a pastor? With social media being as powerful as it is, you can never be too careful. And as a man in the public eye, you KNOW you gotta watch your back!!! You mean to tell me the picture miraculously appeared to your Instagram page without your permission? Wake up & smell the rhinestones, dude…someone is trying to frame you.

5) This is how perverts slip through the cracks and we (as humans) end up on the news with the I-don’t-know-how-this-happened-because-he-wasn’t-like-that face. Lookin’ stupid. Not saying Trotter is by any means a child predator, I’m simply stating that parents overlook too many things and write them off as innocent.

All in all, I have to go with my girl Tamar Braxton on this one and tell this pastor’s whole family GET YO’ LIFE! Yes. Get it.

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Rhonda’s Favorite Things 2012

Everybody gets a car!!!!!!

Everybody gets a car!!!!!!

I’m Oprah, bi-yatch!

Ok, no I’m not Big O. But the idea is pretty damn awesome, gotta admit. So in an attempt to be cool and famous, I’ve glued myself to Oprah Winfrey Network in efforts to gain my chance at winning something. Anything.

Needless to say, that isn’t going so well for me. So…in yet another attempt to be cool and famous, I’m listing my favorite things just like she did! But, I won’t be giving out anything to you mofos, though, except a few random gifts to my family members. I just want you guys to get inside my head a little bit. Anyhooo–let’s get started!

1) MacBook Pro (and basically anything from Apple). The people who create these devices are either greedy geniuses or evil antichrists. Take your pick. Either way, this is the best thing I’ve spent my money on all year. It has something like 500GB of storage space so I have plenty of room to store my awesome music collection and natural hair pictures. I could go on. Basically if you don’t have one, then you’re losing. If you already own a Mac, then you’re going to hell with me for supporting this giant antichrist. #winning

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2) Aeropostale sweats. I don’t know if they are made from butter-enhanced wool and cotton, but they sure feel like it. It is by far the most comfortable sweatsuit I’ve ever owned. Did I wear these all through high school and college when they were “in?” No. Don’t judge me, I running a little late for everything. But on the days where I want a little less booty jiggle visibility (i.e. while wearing velour sweatsuits), these are the remedy. And I caught them on sale during Black Friday.

Aero Sweats

3) Ta Boom Brazilian Food Truck’s Straganoff Burrito. Yes you read that correctly. One sweet day in LA, I had a super empty stomach. I craved something filling, like Mexican food, but who really WANTS Mexican? Exactly. This food truck pulled up to our office and a smile hit my face. Not only was I offered a full serving of Chicken Straganoff, but they would roll it into a burrito along with rice. You know what that’s called? #winning

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4) Four Seasons Resort Maui. THE definition of luxurious vacation. Was I on vacay? No. I was working. But that doesn’t discredit this place’s magnificent views, superb restaurants, and hardworking concierge service. All rooms feature satellite radio built into the wall of the bathroom (which was basically built for *cough, cough* honeymoon sex…) and a terrycloth robe. I didn’t want to leave the room except to lay by the pool and be served margaritas.

FSMaui

5) Jordan Retro #9 My first pair. This means I’m no longer a Jordan-virgin and now I’m addicted. My collection is building rather nicely. More to come, so stay tuned.

jordan 9

6) American Apparel leggings. I got my first pair in 2008 and they still fit the same. This calls for a celebration, and by that I mean purchasing more leggings. For my ladies out there who know how difficult it is to find a good pair that isn’t too tight on the waist, doesn’t show through to your panties, and has a decent amount of Spandex to hold you in…I’ve found the solution. Look no further! And at $15 a pair & every color ever, feel free to splurge a little. I have black, grey, teal, purple, and red.

american apparel leggings

7) MAC Studio Fix Powder. I’m not really big on makeup, bur for special occasions, I do dab a little in painting my face. And I’ve gotten pretty decent at doing so. My absolute go-to is this powder. Why? Because it can be used on a clean face, versus on top of foundation and still get the job done. Plus, after just a few swipes, I achieve the look I need without feeling clownish. For better coverage and blending, use a kabuki brush (not the sponge applicator which makes it look caked on).

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8) Delta Airlines ginger cookies by Biscoff. Simply a little taste of heaven. That’s it.

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9) EDEN Bodyworks Temple Balm. Got an itchy scalp? Thinning edges? Looking for a light pomeade? Well this product does all of it. Doesn’t contain mineral oil or other heavy products that cause build up on the scalp. And it leaves you with a tingling sensation from a key ingredient: peppermint oil. Try it out, let me know what you think.

templebalmsm

Why MJ Always Wore White Socks

Shuhh-mon outta that bathroom!

When I was younger, I would spend the weekend at my aunt’s house to play with my cousin. And just like every black family, we all went to church together on Sunday morning.

These were the days your 5-minute-shower skills got tested.

One morning, my cousin was being particularly mischievous. He was toying with his food at breakfast, still had Legos scattered across his room from yesterday, and was cutting into the next person’s “turn” for the bathroom. He’d already been in there ten minutes and the shower was not yet running However, he was incessantly killing singing the chorus to Kirk Franklin’s “Silver and Gold,” which insinuated foot-dragging.

*Auntie bangs on the bathroom door*

“Boy? You better be almost done, Dad needs to get in there! Now you got five minutes. And I mean FIVE!!”

Faintly, I could hear the water from the bathroom sink start to flow as I listened from the kitchen. I sat in a chair battling a lint ball on my crisp white tights (for the average 7-year old girl, this conflict ends in a hole). In the corner, Auntie stroked the iron across my cousin’s button-up shirt. It was children’s choir Sunday.

Not even three minutes had passed before the bathroom door swung open. My cousin rushed past us in the kitchen while holding a ball of dirty clothes to cover his privates. Auntie put the iron away then grabbed a nearby switch off the counter (note: for my readers who aren’t old school, this is a switch–skip to 4:07). She follows behind my cousin toward his room waving the switch in the air, “Now what did I tell you to do?”

Cousin innocently looks up at Auntie and shrugs, “What?”

She points the switch at him with each word. “I said get in that bathroom and take care of your business! It don’t take that long! And did you brush your teeth?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?!”

“Yes ma’am, I did.”

Auntie grabs the starched shirt off the ironing board.  She slathers Vaseline on his scrawny legs then drapes an undershirt over his frail shoulders.

“AND DID YOU CHANGE YOUR SHORTS??!!”

“Yes ma’am, I did.”

My ears perked. I knew Auntie could tell that there was not a single drop of water on his back, thus insinuating he didn’t even get in the shower. I had no idea what “shorts” she was referring to, but I knew my cousin was in big trouble.

Fast forward to this day in 2012. I just finished watching Spike Lee’s “Bad 25” on ABC. In just about every clip/picture/scene/flashback, Michael Jackson is wearing his famous penny loafers with clean white socks. Neither the shoes nor the socks bother me; I’m stuck at the flooding pants. It’s so obvious that all of his trousers were tailored two inches above his ankles (did that become a fad? I don’t recall).

Well since I haven’t heard any sort interview (ever) to explain why MJ made this his trademark, I’ve come to this conclusion: long ago, little Michael was procrastinating in the bathroom on a Sunday morning. Katherine went in his room to scold him. She glanced down at his dingy socks and shrieks, “DID YOU CHANGE YOUR SOCKS??!!” He timidly replied, “Yes ma’am, I did.”

She says, “No you didn’t, or they would be sparklin’ white.” Little Michael tried to plead his case, but just wasn’t winning (he mistakenly grabbed Randy’s socks instead of his own). And since that day, he reassured Katherine daily that he did change socks by making sure she could see them. And they were indeed sparklin’ white.

May you rest in Heaven—

Michael Jackson

Julius K. Moore

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