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?

Gucci-opoly

I’m writing this through watery eyes and a series of uncontrolled sneezes. It’s gross. Let’s just say I learned the hard way that I’m allergic to cats. We’ll talk about that later.

I joke a lot about being The Golden Child simply due to the fact that the most random things happen to me. And only me. Like what, you say? Well I’m glad you asked!

Recently I went to deposit a payroll check into my bank. I was smokin’ hot that day. For some reason, I was really feeling my slick edges & new pedicure. That means ‘all this’ would go to waste if I had deposited the check into the ATM. In retrospect, that would’ve been a much better idea. An-tyhow, I go inside the branch, walked up to the teller with a big smile on my face, and slid her my signed check. We held small talk. I blushed at the security camera. Few minutes later, I pranced back to my car & drove to Chipotle. Ballin’.

The next morning, I had big plans to spend at least half of that money between Target and Trader Joe’s. Okay, not half, but you get my point. I checked my account (which I freakishly do every single morning—no lie) only to find my balance was SIGNIFICANTLY lower than it was the day before. I hopped online. I called customer service. I went back to the branch…they were closed…I went to another one. Thank God I kept my deposit receipt as proof. After four long, draining hours, they all confirm there is no record of my transaction! Hell to the naw.

I was furious. And I also had to wait until Monday morning when the branch was open in order to complete my dispute. Long story shorty, there was an “encoding error” and the check was rejected from my account. So then they credited my account and things seemed okay. For the moment. Not only had they given me my money, but the transaction posted three times and—basically I heard my bank account sing “Rack City” through the ATM. Hell to the naw.

So what did I do to overcome the stress of these financial ‘issues’? I went to church! What else? I’m kidding, I don’t run to church every time something bad happens, rather I do the opposite. I don’t even GO to church (we’ll talk about that later) but this particular Sunday, the sun was tapping me on my shoulder. So I got up & went.

There was a church I’d heard about when I first moved to LA. I probably visited six different ones in just a few months. Well a group of buddies decided we should all go to this particular church together. Okay, I’m in.

I get there and while walking across the parking lot, a grandpa-looking man stopped me. “Hey sistah! This must be yo first time herre, I ain’t seent you befo!” He reached for a handshake. “Yes, this is my first time.” He smiled big, “Well come on in herre so we can sho ya some love!!” His enthusiasm scared me.

I sat down in an open row near the middle. Not too close, but not too far in the back. And I’ve already made up my mind not to stand during the recognition of visitors. The service begins and suddenly, I’m pushed aside. Wayyyy aside…for some lady and her two kids. I couldn’t help but notice all the flashy jewelry she was wearing and her Gucci purse she placed by her feet (Gucci on the floor?). Her curly-haired little girls were quietly drawing on their iPads. I’m thinking I’ve seen this lady somewhere before. Somewhere.

And whaddya know, she was the first person to stand up when the pastor inquired about visitors. All eyes on me her now. As I hear her voice, it took me 2 seconds to remember where I knew her from. Basketball Wives LA. That explains her gaudy bracelets and perfected praise clap.

The whole situation made me laugh. I’m looking at her, the kids, that Gucci bag (it was nice, y’all) and thinking about all the viewers who envy the lives of women like this and would love to trade places with me. Trust me, I read their comments on Twitter. And here I was sitting next to her… with a banking error in my favor… and an attitude! In all the open seats, I had to move for her?!

So I lived in that moment, although I didn’t make it rain, I felt a complete sense of peace. I stopped worrying about my minor crisis & tried to open my eyes to the bigger picture. And don’t ask me what the big picture is because I was too distracted to pay attention to the preaching. Kidding.

But I hear there’s a lot to be said about where a woman places her purse; I picked mine up off the floor and put it on the bench right next to me.

Genuine or Ginuwine…And Dine

I know what you're thinking. And quit looking at me like that.

In case you didn’t know, I have full lyrics to thousands of songs in my head. I have no idea how this came to be, either. All I know is that I can listen to any of my stations on Pandora for 12-hours a day everyday & sing along to each song (wanna try me?) and my iTunes is about 3000 songs deep. Yep. I know all of them.

So today when Ginuwine’s “Last Chance” shuffled through on Tony!Toni!Tone! Radio, it brought back memories of me rolling in my Jeep down Santa Monica Blvd. Where was I headed? Glad you asked.

I met a guy (let’s call him Theo) at a beach party some friends threw in summer ’09. This is after I had relocated, so I was a mere infant to LA lifestyle and fresh outta college. When I saw Theo, I gasped a classic *girrrrrl look at his chest* as he and his friend walked past our blanket. I was with a girlfriend who co-signed the bulge of his biceps. I’m a sucker. Long story short, I got his number & we scheduled a date.

In college, a ‘date’ means we meet in the lobby of our dorm & walk to the dining hall together, right? PAUSE: Now before you go judging me, please be aware that I’m fully grown now & I can whoop your ass. But due to the fact that I’m saving for an ES-350, I don’t have bail money, so I won’t fight you. Go ahead, judge me. RESUME: Yes, I fell for Theo’s age-old classic dinner-at-my-house game. I was actually excited this hot dude invited little, country Rhonda Mae over!

He opened the door (fully clothed might I add; I was expecting more TRICEPS!) and I was surprised by his small studio apartment. I figured nice car = status. But whatever. This means he invited me to sit on the only chair in his apartment (his bed), I declined. I said, “Why don’t I just hangout in this half-kitchen? I’ll talk while you finish cooking.” So far, I’m winning.

About 45-minutes had passed while Theo tried his best to whip up meatless spaghetti with garlic bread. And I was laughing at his poor effort. He refused my help but managed to ask me to open the drawer near me and hand him a potholder. I pulled out the drawer and a beautiful array of golden-wrapped condoms was inside.

Me: Ummmmmm…really?

Theo: I mean, where else would I put them? It’s a drawer, right?

Me: Maybe in the bathroom? Or by your bed?

Theo: I like ’em in the kitchen. *grins, smirks*

I was not intrigued by his immature, blatant attempt at gettin’ some. I was also starting to get hungry since there was no eye candy on display. Meanwhile, Magnum Theo is losing on his quest for a potholder.

Once the sloppy spaghetti and burnt garlic toast was done, he invited me to dine on the roof. Said there was a pool and a great view up there (duh, it’s a roof). We sat poolside, picked over the food, and held standard “first date” convo. I started to yawn. Not only did he quote Diddy twice, but his lisp was starting to sound the elderly pervert from Family Guy. Turned off.

So we went back inside and I reached for my purse to find my keys. He asked, “You’re leaving that quick?” I replied, “Yeah, I gotta catch Chipotle before they close.” Theo insisted, “I mean I can order a pizza, my bad on the dinner HAAAA! C’mon, let’s watch a movie. I got all the classics.” My eyes rolled like my pupils were compass needles looking for north. “Alright.”

I walk over to sit on the bed and Theo is already quoting lines from what he says is his favorite movie. Then, he put “Boomerang” in the DVD player. He did a yeah-Im-about-to-score dance from the TV to the bed, sat down next to me and said, “Oh you didn’t know? This movie is about me! I AM Marcus Graham!!” Roll opening credits. Cue Rhonda’s exit. And no, I won’t text you when I make it home.

I’m driving home thinking–no he didn’t think I was gonna drop my panties for a cheap (disgusting) dinner? Who does that? Wait a minute, I know who does that. The kind of girl who would’ve gotten excited seeing the condoms in the kitchen! Well that ain’t me, but I knew what I was getting into when Theo invited me over. I was just hoping he was a little less whack.com so I could have a juicy story to tell y’all.

*Turns up volume on 100% Ginuwine*

Cockiness. Persuasion. Umbrella.

Last weekend, some friends and I were in the car listening to Rihanna’s new CD “Talk That Talk.” Now, I’m not one to buy albums, but due to the recent influx of my time in traffic, I’ve shuffled through my iPod’s 600+ songs three times.

One track on Rihanna’s CD is called Cockiness (Love It). When I first heard the song, I was alone in the car and the beat caught me, so I blasted it paying no attention to what I was saying. Now that me & my buddies are riding, I’m singing the chorus, “Suck my cockiness, lick my persuasion…I love it–love it–love it when you eat it.” *PAUSE* What did you just say, Ri Ri?

Maybe I’m naive (I’ll go back to this point) but I don’t remember Rihanna being a sex symbol. I literally thought she was talking about a real umbrella years ago! I’m kidding, I understood the metaphor, but you get my point. But why did her lyrics shoot over my head to where I didn’t notice it, and my friends in the car are like “Rhonda, I didn’t know you listened to this kind of music!” Well, I don’t (60% of the time). It just gets me through traffic. Similar to R.Kelly’s “TP-Fourth Quarter”. Hmm.

Flashback to one of my most naive moments to date; I’m at a superbowl party inside a restaurant in downtown LA. A male friend invited me, but I arrived before he did. I noticed the crowd was way more mature that me, but I’m already here, right? Grabbed an empty seat at a table & ordered a glass of wine with some hot wings. Don’t judge me.

The room starts to fill and there are people standing behind me looking for a place to sit. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a man’s chest. A rather toned chest & glorious biceps/triceps to go with it. Behind him was his sidekick, let’s call him New Boy. Part of me just wanted to stare like I always do, but THEY say that’s why I’m still single. So I invited Chest and New Boy to sit down at my table.

Chest appeared to be around 30 and New Boy did not look a day over 21. And they didn’t look alike, so now I’m wondering how they’re acquainted.

Me: “Hi, I’m Rhonda.” *firm handshake*

Chest: “I’m _____. And this is my homie _____.” *returns firm handshake*

Me: “Nice to meet y’all. So who are you rooting for today, Giants or Pats?”

Chest: “Well I could care less either way, I’m from St. Louis. I don’t go for either of these teams.”

Me: “HEY! St. Louis in the building, what high school did you go to???”

Our convo took a turn for the better, from our hard times adjusting to bougie LA and back to growing up in urban STL. Now, I really like Chest.

Me: “So what brings you and your friend here?”

Chest: “This is my neo, he just crossed. We’re Kappas. I live here, but he just came to kick it with me this weekend.”

My face dropped. It probably displayed my complete and utter disgust for Kappas. I mentally crossed Chest off my To Date List. Nevertheless, I enjoyed his company, flirting with him, and even twirkin’ on the dance floor (any restaurant with a DJ becomes a club-scene as liquor settles in!). The night is over, he walks me to the parking lot.

It’s been hours now that me & Chest have gotten familiar with each other. I find out that he moved here to pursue marketing/TV hosting/Olympics/whatever comes (aka he has no focus). I’m somewhat turned off, but his pecks kept winking at me.  We exchanged numbers once I got to my vehicle. He asks if I’m free for dinner tomorrow, I gave a lazy ‘yes’. I don’t want people to see me in public with this no-real-job Kappa.

Me: “So why hasn’t a guy like you found a leading lady yet?”

His eyes rolled around like a Felix the Cat clock.

Chest: “It’s complicated.”

My gut sank. He has a girlfriend.

Chest: “I’m actually married, but it’s not working out.”

*PAUSE* What did you just say, Chest?

Not only is he still married, but the wife & FOUR kids live back home in St. Louis. And in his mind, things will work out, but she needs her space right now to realize how good of a man he his. FOH.

Do you know how crazy women are? In St. Louis? She might be GPS-ing him right now, then trace my mobile number and show up at my house. And then my whole family will need major bail money for going after Crazy Chic that f’d with Rhonda Mae. I’ll pass.

Me: “Married? Then why the hell are you taking this time to get to know me?”

Chest: “I like you, you’re feisty. I wanna see where this goes.”

*PAUSE* That’s called I-wanna-bang-you-because-you-look-like-the-naive-type. F–k you, Jobless Kappa.

I was so disappointed that he went this whole night without revealing such pertinent details. Where they do that at? And he managed to send me texts just about everyday after that with ‘boo’ or ‘baby’ in them. How dreadful. This is what wearing leggings will get you: other women’s husbands! I may be single, guess I’m a little naive, too…but I’m not desperate.

Single In The City

I’m back, folks! It’s safe to assume that I’ve been dragged through the Hollywood mud for the past few years, but I came up for air and I’m good now. Let’s do a quick recap:

1) Working For a Celeb
2) Living With the Elderly
3) Stuck At An Intersection. In WeHo.
4) Losing Family And Friends…I’m Alone
5) What Boyfriend?

Each of these events are significant enough to elaborate on. So if you want the juicy details, stay tuned.

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