Wednesday, March 15, 2017

The Narrative

Do you know any married couples who have survived infidelity?

I mean really know them, like they have discussed the transgression at length with you. The ins, the outs, the fall out, the aftermath.

How does their relationship look?

Are they consistently working at building trust daily? Are they in a blissful second honeymoon kind of phase?

Is love still there?

I don't know about you, but the marriages I know of, where an infidelity has occurred, is best described as a very clear lifelong exercise in the words "work in progress."

On their best days, the thoughts of the indiscretion are placed at the very back of their minds and they can smile, love, live, breath.

However, on their worst days, there is still an unspoken truth wafting through the air that leads to checking unattended phones, and snooping through open email accounts.

The love is still there, but the trust is irreparably damaged.

I can see it, feel it. It's tangible. It's real life.

They have decided to stay married, but things are different, and they probably will always be.

Not bad, not good, but most certainly different.

Being I have witnessed the real life versions of such circumstances, I find myself annoyed with how this scenario is portrayed when it applies to any sort of public, political or celebrity couple's story displayed for your nightly news.

Or even more dishonest, when the narrative is being duplicated for a television show, or blockbuster movie.

The illustration we typically see is a couple experiencing an affair, one-night stand, however extensive the relationship may be, only for it to end with the marriage winding up back in a place where their love is somehow much greater, and much stronger.

Their happiness is now overwhelmingly unbreakable.

Who are these people?!? People no one knows, that's who!

Being honest, the majority of the time the forgiving party within this story line is the wife.

Is this, as a society, what we really want to teach women? Is this what you want for your daughters?

It is perfectly acceptable to be cheated on, because in the end your marriage is going to be so much stronger, and your love will be so much more wonderful than ever before. And you can make your story a hit album, and have twins while the world gushes

When are we going to stop indirectly, sometimes directly, feeding women these fallacies of necessary forgiveness?

Pay no never mind to the possible expensive price of her own self worth, because the societal credit of being a "wife", being "chosen", is worth so much more. Right?

Indeed, everyone does not have a visceral, dramatic reaction to infidelity, but if one does, it should be okay for them to leave. And when I say leave, I mean leave without stigma, or the judgment associated with having given up on their covenant with God, and that other person, laid at their doorstep.

Marriage is a difficult journey for most, even without infidelity, and if an affair becomes a part of the process, there is nothing wrong with deciding to stay.

We all make individual choices someone else may never even consider.

However, there is something wrong, very wrong with gorging women, or men for that matter, with the idea that the pain and hurt of betrayal will somehow magically turn into a redeemable experience, something for which you can and should be grateful.

I could be wrong, but in real life, it just doesn't seem to work out that way.

Sunday, November 29, 2015


After moving into my apartment in the Bronx I didn't have any money, not one dime. Zero dollars and zero cents. I'd paid the deposit and the first month's rent to move in. It was everything I had left. I wasn't happy, but I was relieved because now I didn't have to live in the roach infested place I'd lived in for the first month I'd been in New York. Joy helped me move my meager belongings (my clothes, music collection and a few other knick-knacks), she'd known me maybe all of two weeks at the time. Crystal, who had only met me once via Joi (the only friend I had in New York when I moved there) gave me information for a temp agency. The phone number to that temp agency was my only glimmer of hope. I wasn't concerned about my empty apartment, sleeping on the floor, or the 4 or 5 $0.25 bags of chips being my only food until someone gave me a check. I just needed a job.

On Monday I made it to the temp agency, but I was late, and covered in sweat because I'd gotten lost taking the train for the first time alone. I ended up walking from the West side of Manhattan to the East, which I thought would be a short distance. It sounded short, so rather then continuing to get turned around on the train I thought I could walk it a bit quicker. Don't ever let anyone tell you that is a short walk, especially not in business attire in the middle of August. I just knew the woman would look at me, and the mess I was, and walk me right back outside. She gave me a bit of a side eye, but when I told her about being new to NY she seemed to understand. She found a data entry job that I could start the next day. Finally, things were looking up.

I pushed through to the next week, although not before passing out on the train due to not eating. A stranger picked me up and gave me a few sticks of gum. That gum tasted like steak. All I heard was "Whoa, we almost lost you there" and all I felt was an overwhelming cloud of pity surrounding me, but those strangers who picked me up and shook me awake....well let's just say New Yorkers are not as cold as you may think.

That first check was everything to me. I bought groceries, a pillow, a $5 blanket (which is inside the ottoman in my living room right now, I'll never get rid of it) and a $20 boombox. That night I laid on the floor with a full belly and I played almost every CD I owned. The music revived my spirit and I felt like God really loved me.

Just Grateful.

Sunday, August 23, 2015

Our Story

I've been asked, so here you go....

The first time I saw him Autumn was beginning and although the sun was still shining, a breeze was in the air. He was wearing a Nautica jacket and I thought, "He must be from home". As long as I have lived away from Michigan, now and then, it gives me a sense of comfort to find a native Detroiter, so I keep an eye out, and in 1997 nobody wore Nautica as much as a Detroiter, I took notice. I also thought, "He's kind of cute too", but nothing more, nothing less, I simply took notice.

That was my freshman year of college, (his senior year) and although I noticed him filming events around campus we never spoke, even with mutual friends, we were never introduced. My first interaction with him, he doesn't even remember. A friend of mine, took me to the apartment of a friend of his. He was there working on the computer, his friend introduced us. He said, "What up?" from the corner where the computer was located then stated, "Alright, I'm out". No interest on either end. Ha!

Fast forward to 2008, I am living in NY and he is still in GA (where we went to college). We've added each other on MySpace (because who wasn't adding every familiar face, even though you were damn near strangers, back then). My friend and his friend are now brother/sister type best friends and it's Homecoming. My friend and I (both living in NY) come into town for homecoming, so we're staying with his friend. I've noticed via social media he's not just "kind of cute" but also smart, and funny. We've shared debates, comments, private messages and I'm crushing. I ask about him. His friend is all about it. He gives me his number. I don't call, I send a text message, inviting him to hang out with "the group". He said he's down to hang with us. He never shows. I go back to NY, thinking "Oh well".

A month after homecoming, back in NY, I'm riding the train home from a party I worked, and my phone rings, it's a number I don't know. I'm on the train so the signal is bad, although we are above ground, I barely hear who is on the other end. The voice is going in and out and I hang up. I think it must have been someone from the party, and I've decided not to work with them any more, so I don't care when it rings again. I exit the train, transfer to my bus and by the time I get off the bus, my phone is ringing again, from the same number. It's dark, and late. It's chilly October and the wind is blowing my hair in all directions. I figure if someone is going to kidnap me on my short walk from the bus to my door someone should hear it. I pick up. It's him. I barely hear him over the wind and my hair flying, but it's him. I smile, because although a month has passed and I have had no interaction with him, I'm still crushing. We talk until I get home, and we talk a little more. We stay on the phone for hours and I get off the phone with a grin and a lite airy feeling.

A few months pass and we talk regularly now, my days begin and end with his voice. On Sundays, we stay on the phone from the time we wake up until the time we go to sleep. My friends are now faux annoyed by his name, my giddiness, and our plan to have our first date when we both go home for Christmas in Detroit. I have even traded in the Hip Hop in my headphones for ooooeey-gooey love songs.

Christmas in Detroit arrived and I'm still nervous about where this is headed. I think, "Phone conversations are one thing, but will this work in person?" We planned to go play pool on a night I was suppose to go to a party with my sister and best brother friend. My brother friend teased me for bailing on them for a dude, but my sister is excited. She has heard all of these stories about him, and she wants this to work. I put on a short sweater dress and ask her, " Should I put some jeans on under this? I mean, we're going to play pool, I look fast." My sister says, "Nope, just the dress". (To this very day, he tells my sister, "Good call on that one" Ha!) We meet up and the chemistry is overwhelming. Reminding myself, "I'm fast but not this fast" kind of overwhelming.

I went back to New York sad. This was a real dilemma, I lived in NY and I LOVED NY!

Heading back to NY, I decided if it was meant to be it would be. I couldn't count on this. I had to be reasonable. We were not an official couple and we'd only gone on one date. So, a few weeks back in NY I went on a blind date. My date, a Nigerian born, British bred, Idris Elba doppelganger, who worked as an investment banker on Wall Street. The date was nothing short of amazing. We agreed to meet for drinks at Blue Fin in Times Square, a mutual friend set us up and we were both skeptical, so we only agreed to drinks. We were having such a good conversation, he asked me to join him for lunch around the corner at the restaurant inside the W hotel. We talked about music and different cultures next to a huge window overlooking Times Square for so long it was dark when we came back outside. He offered to pay for my cab home but I told him I was meeting a friend in SoHo so instead he walked me to my train. When we parted, I called a friend. I told her how great the date was and how he was everything I THOUGHT I ever wanted, but from the moment I arrived until the time he walked away, all I could think about was him. She said, "Georgia". I nodded into the phone. I knew I didn't want any one else. Apparently, he felt the same way because a few weeks later he told me he didn't want to see anyone else and he hoped I didn't either. And then there we were, officially a long distance couple.

It was April, and I was sick. I didn't want to go to work, but I had things I needed to get done, so instead I called in and said I would be late. As soon as I walked in the front door, my best work friend, runs up to me and in her usual dramatic fashion she said, "Oh my God, they are laying people off! They are calling people into the conference room. If you get a call, then you know." I immediately called him. By this time, we had already begun discussing marriage and I was looking for a job in Atlanta. I told him, "If they lay me off, I'm just going to move to Atlanta" His reply, "Okay, hope you get fired, babe". As soon as I hung up my pink flip phone, my desk phone rang, and a couple months later he came to New York. With the help of two friends, we loaded up the contents of my tiny Bronx studio and never looked back.

We planned to get married. It was already decided we would do it alone. Neither of us wanted a big wedding. The idea of being the center of attention, for any reason, didn't appeal to me. I didn't find it necessary. The location was an old beach where volcanoes had erupted making the terrain a mixture of sand and lava rock. I wore a simply white sundress, with my newly natural hair only being held in place by a white chiffon rose. He wore white linen. The only guests were our photographer and videographer, and my ring once belonged to his mother. We told people we were going on vacation. Our parents and siblings knew why we were there, and close friends and family received an email later that day. Our photographer asked could he tag us in one of the photos on Facebook. We told him yes. Immediately, our phones chimed and rang with non-stop notifications and calls. The uninformed had been informed. Everyone who didn't know, now knew. On September 17, 2011, he and I, became Mr. & Mrs. Damon L. Thomas.

And there, our journey began...

Monday, July 28, 2014

Women Lie, Men Lie....But It Isn't Equal

Women are not perfect.

Although men and women alike would like to claim they KNOW women are not perfect, it seems to be believed more in theory than in practice. Between reading comments recently stating Trey Songz's "Mr. Steal Your Girl" persona made the woman who fell for "being stolen" a hoe (not him, HER) and Kerry Washington having to explain why she would play a mistress for the millionth time in an interview, I am convinced, the world condemns anything less than ideal.

As people grow, experiences are had, and knowledge is gained, one would think people would be more open-minded as to who we all become, but nope. The underlying expectation to "have it all", "be super/wonder woman" or my personal favorite, "always be a lady" still linger, and frankly the stench of those concepts are enough to make even the most conservative woman scream for mercy.

Men lie, cheat, steal and kill and yes, women do all of those things as well, but the difference seems to be, as a woman there are no second chances to right a wrong. Life is definitely not a dress rehearsal and there are no do-overs. Once men see you fall below their standard of "class", then it is okay to be treated without respect and almost no one, not even other women, will protest.

How many times have we all heard seeing a drunk woman is worse than seeing a drunk man? How many women have been given those almost guaranteed second chances men get after an affair? What female prisoner has letters pouring in from a boyfriend/husband stating "he is waiting for her"? Woman are forgotten once a mistake is made and it is accepted. It is so accepted women will do anything to maintain an appearance of desirability by the type of men she deems worthy,(which can even be pretending not to be the conservative type because she wants the man who wants a "bad girl") simply because as Drake's mom put it "Who wants to be sixty and alone?"

I have told lies, pretended to be something I was not, left a drink half full, curbed the vast amount of cuss words I regularly use, worn uncomfortable clothing and remained hush-hush about my sex life. All in the name of being liked.

The question is when does it stop? When do we become okay with being ourselves no matter who likes it? Does that even happen in a lifetime for women?

Well, I plan to make it happen for me.

The ideal. I reject it.

And you should too....because as Popeye would say, "I yam what I yam".....and I yam a pretty good person.


Thursday, July 24, 2014

May I Help You?

I read a quote once saying, "People ask why customer service has gone to hell in a hand basket, I ask why have customers gone to hell in a hand basket"

I thought about this quote this morning when I heard a story on The View about a man who was faced with the choice of deleting a tweet he posted about rude service, including the name and gate number of the agent he encountered, or leave the plane. The airline stated it was a security risk. Although I can not say how much a of a realistic security risk his tweet may have posed, I will say I commend Southwest for standing up for their employee.

It seems all of the women on The View (as well as my husband) were on the side of the passenger. Now, as someone who works in customer service, I have to say I do believe in a lot of cases, customers are the ones taking these things too far. A huge amount of people these days are so self-important and privileged they forget the person they are talking to is actually....get this...A PERSON. Not getting what you want, thinking it should be "no big deal" if the rules are bent or broken "just this one time" for you, or because you do not work in a service position and think they deserve your nasty attitude because "they choose this job", does not give you the right to treat people like they are beneath you. I have been called a cunt, a bitch, a moron, a nigger and just about anything else you can think of working in several customer service oriented jobs over at least 20 years of my life. I do not recall one company standing up for me, instead I have been told to "not take it personal".

I am all for expressing your opinions on social media or anywhere else you may choose, however you have to accept the consequences that follow those actions. Instead of actually getting in contact with a manager/supervisor to lodge a complaint this man took the passive way out and tweeted his little hurt feelings. I will completely agree he has a right to make this his chosen method of expression and say whatever it is he feels he needs to tell the world, but including someone's full name and specific work location is insensitive, and in my opinion, out of line. What if she is a battered woman whose ex-husband was searching for her? You have no idea what is going on in someone else's life, but of course WHO CARES when you want what you want, right?

Well, you can choose to treat others as if their lives do not count when it involves providing others with a service, but be very aware, not all people or companies are going to cower to your entitlement issues. There will be consequences for treating the world around you like personal servants. You feel important enough to demean another, well than I hope you are also important enough to not only find another flight headed to your exact location in a matter of minutes, but find alternatives for all the services you require the assistance of OTHER PEOPLE to receive in this thing we call life.

Sunday, May 18, 2014

And This Is Why I Call It Scatter Brain

Sometimes I just like to express, to share, most times I don't think I care if anyone is even listening. I grew up in one of those homes where "What happens in this house, stays in this house" was said often. I have kept, and still keep, many of my own, as well as secrets of others all too well. So, sometimes I just want to say random shit for absolutely no reason. This is probably why in the survey days, I did ever single damn one. I don't necessarily go around telling my life story as a result of a secretive family and years of shyness; but I do like to keep, maybe not an open door, but an open window policy as to who I am as an adult. So, today I thought I'd share some random things about me. I'll try to pick a few things you may not know.

1. I'm part Creole. My great grandfather's death certificate (to my surprise) doesn't even say he was black, his race was actually listed as Creole. Black people were serious about that separation, wait did I say "were"? Nevermind, different discussion for a different day. Oh and ummmm...No, I don't know how to make gumbo, my grandma did not call me cherie and at family gatherings there is no Zydeco. Somehow, when my ancestors moved from Louisiana to Alabama none of the markings of Creole culture came with them. And after the migration North well, let's just say Dean Big Brother Almighty said it best "we're from Detroit, Motown!"

2. I hate people to over analyze, dissect, or just damn stare at what I am eating. It's an after effect of being bullied for years. I was teased about my weight throughout elementary school, and of course at lunch there were always jokes about what I was eating. I eventually began to hide what I was eating under the table. I held what I was eating in my hands under the table until I was ready to take a bite. I would take my bite and back under the table it would go. Good thing my mama made me sandwiches and Ziploc baggies with chips, I would have been screwed with some leftover spaghetti and wings. By junior high I just stopped eating lunch altogether.

3. I used to smoke cigarettes. I chose Virginia Slim Super Slims because I thought they at least were so small I still looked like a laaddyyy when I smoked in public. Eventually, I switched to clove cigarettes and finally I quit. But, I've been known to keep a pack of Djarums on know....just in case. There were very few people I did it in front of and the funny thing is the guys I dated who were smokers....blacks, cigarettes, weed, whatever....I used to give them hell for it. Dammit, I'm such a hypocrite sometimes.

4. I used to have a thing for DJs/Producers. While most girls were all about the artist, I liked the guys who were behind the scenes. Although, I did end up on a few dates with a couple more well known ones while in NY, but it's NY *shrugs*. I think it's just they have the same love for music I do. Hell if you love the music more than the fame and the money, well then you had me hook, line, and sinker, just ask that one I married;-)

5. I typically will discuss sex in general terms all day, everyday, but I rarely speak in specifics; those conversations, truly a small circle. It was my way of finding a balance through all of those college discussions. End Game: I was not considered a prude but I wasn't setting myself up or being coined a hoe either. I can not even count the amount of men friends I know who got second hand info and used it against some girl later because her ass told way too much to the wrong people. I only had to be told once what shockingly low numbers put women in the "hoe" category. Funny thing, I have only had one man notice I never spoke in specifics and details when it gave to sex and he was someone I dated who was about 8 years younger than me....sometimes the young boys pick up on things a lot quicker than grown men.....

Well okay I think I'm done for now....if you made it to the end and actually took a little interest in lil ole me than I thank time I promise I'll write about something with some substance, just dipping my toe back in this little writing pool I call my blog.

Saturday, February 15, 2014

Four Down, One to Go

Disclaimer: Some of you are going to love this; some of you are going to hate it. However, this is me, and I am going to say it anyway.

Unless you live under a rock, or are in a constant state of All-Star Weekend inebriation right now, you have heard about the Michael Dunn "loud music" case and it's recent verdict of a mistrial on a murder count and four convictions of attempted murder. If you have no clue, feel free to: (1)Google (2)logoff now or (3)go back to melting down those gummy bears for the juice you inject to replace your brain matter.

The verdict was read and of course instantaneously there a was a blitz of facebook updates, tweets, and all out temper tantrums on the hardwood floors and plush carpets of black folks around the world. Seriously, as my father used to say, "Cut it Out!!". I am not exactly excited about the verdict of this case; but all of the feigned outrage and exasperation is getting absurd. It is not only this verdict I am referring to, but the tendency we have as a community to resist the urge to listen and weigh facts before we figuratively yell out "It's because we're black" or "My baby ain't never hurt nobody". Now in no way shape or form am I saying Jordan Davis did anything that should have resulted in his murder. I am saying it does not hurt to wait for finality on the matter before having a hissy fit. You did not have to spend time in law school to understand one count is one count and it bears no weight upon the others. The conviction of one charge does not automatically claim a conviction of the other. Also, a mistrial of the first count does not mean he will not be convicted of this charge.


Do we live in a fair society? Absolutely not! Black people are always the target and we are all aware of this, even Don Lemon. (that is of course on the days he wants to acknowledge he is black) Considering how many black people want to shout from the rooftops on Sundays about "my church", "my pastor", and "THE WORD"; I find it amazing how little faith many of you place in the court of a higher power versus the results associated with the court of mankind. Is the justice of God not good enough for you? I may stand alone in this, but I am going to hand over my sliver of hope and faith, which only has to be the size of a mustard seed, to God. I believe he will see justice prevail. By the way, my version of justice does not have to happen in a court built by humans.

Lastly, for all of the time taken to tweet, update, and debate sadly many of you will continue pursuing your goals of removing yourself from living in predominately black neighborhoods, conquering "corporate America" and living the "American" dream. Save your breath and the clicking of your keypads on your smartphones, tablets and Macbook Pros if the only time you find yourself around the black community is when you want to find the best wing spot. Help is absolutely needed to put us as a people in a better position but activists from afar need not apply.