I Ain't Sorry (No Beyonce)

So, I had to take a quick break, right? Because really. Healing from heartbreak is strange. Some days you feel really up, and some days - it's like being kicked in the teeth on a regular basis. But in this two weeks that I've been off the blog, I've been having conversations with family, friends, sorors, frat about - what else? - RELATIONSHIPS.  And sometimes, I feel like this:

Mr. Ed been catching that work, fam

Because dating is pretty rough.

It's even rougher when you are a sex positive, LGBT, Pro-Black, super politic, anti-bullshit over the age of 30 Black woman.

Yesterday, during a conversation with my sister, I brought up the fact that ALL conversations with men turn sexual - and it's annoying.  And, I don't think she meant to, but she hit me with the "Well, you are always posting something about sex. You should expect it" line.  I didn't get mad, but instead I got really, REALLY sad. Like, that cry until you get a headache sad.  That I don't feel like texting or talking to anyone sad. Because in a weird way, I SHOULD expect it.  I shouldn't be mad or frustrated because the reality of it all is this - men perceive what they see, and what people see is often their version of reality.  So if a man sees my Instagram page, which is full of sex positive quotes, endorsements of toys, statements about sex in general - he is going to assume that I'm a freak (By the way, I fucking HATE that word), and I should expect for every conversation to turn a certain way because sex positive means that you are fucking (and apparently means that you are fucking anything that comes your way.)

So, last night - I legit thought about scrubbing my IG, scraping the Sex Positive Sundays on the blog, and doing this whole Godly, wholesome image that will prevent men from treating me like meat and taking me seriously.  Like, I did.  Because I'm tired.  I'm tired of being talked to a certain way, deemed a particular way, perceived as some sex crazed animal - you know, the Jezebel or Sapphire media stereotype brought to life. And I'm scared of not finding the one. Absolutely frightened of it.

And then, I thought about Sex in the City. (Ya'll know that's my favorite show/set of movies). And I thought about when Charlotte stopped running because she had finally gotten pregnant. And Carrie looked her dead in her eye and said "You can't stop being who you are because you're scared, right?"

Bitch. Carrie. My Cosmo drinking, cigarette smoking, in love with Big for ten years Bitch.  You spoke a word.

So I woke up this morning, and smiled a slight smile.  Still heartbroken. Still jaded. Still annoyed to high heaven, but smiling none the less.

Because I am me.

A single, sex positive, LGBT, super political, anti-bullshit Black woman over the age of 30.

And I'm not scared of these facts.

And I'm sure in fuck ain't sorry.