Bey's new album has me all in my feelings...

Some of you all are super unhappy with Bey, huh? She gets a little smexxy and all of a sudden, she's not worthy? Oh. Okay.

Sure some of her lyrics are questionable, yes the videos are smoldering. So what? She's speaking her truth, not yours or mine. Here's a grown woman singing about stirring the cocoa with her grown husband. Where's the problem? Yes, I heard the whole "Eat the cake, Anna Mae" line - you don't seriously think she's advocating abuse, do you? Doncha think it's more likely that she's probably planning on bathing herself in frosting and tempting her man's sweet tooth? Let married people get their freak on... and sing about it. If you don't like the music, fine. But please don't try to make a sexy album into more than it was. 

Speculation on Bey's feminism and Jay's misogyny based off this body of work is ill-conceived. It's an album, not a manifesto. So no, I'm not mad at Bey and Jay. Do you, Illuminati, do you. 

However... The album does have me all nostalgic and whatnot. As many of you know, I'm on (yet another) man break. A hiatus from the homies. I contemplated sticking a pinkie toe back in the waters and then I got weary just thinking about it. Relationships, dating, even picking someone to try to do any of those things with? Exhausting. You have to have your mind right and your spirit willing before you give it go. Of late, I've been more inclined to wrap up in a throw and catch up on my DVR than throw on some pumps and get my party on.

Unfortunately though... I'm a romance girl. Romance requires partnership. I admit it. I love falling in love and being in love and even falling out of love if I learn something useful along the way. I miss having that person that makes me stupid with a smile or a clever turn of phrase. I miss having someone to talk to before going to sleep at night (or not going to sleep at night). Yes, I miss all the bubbly, steamy cocoa that overflows in a committed relationship when both parties are feeling it. Craving it, can't remember what they did before it. Ah, memories.

But alas, I don't miss the foolishness and the game-playing and the "did he mean what he said when he said..." and the back-n-forth of getting to know someone from the ground up all over again. Trust him- don't trust him, do I really wanna do this, is he loving me the way I need to be loved... Arrgh. I have a little ways to go to regain my patience for the game of love. At least I'm off zero. The signal light is no longer flashing red with arrows saying : Do Not Proceed!! And Mrs. Carter's homage to grown good 'n plenty just might move the signal off Caution: Yellow to Green Means Go. We'll have to see.

Anybody know what I'm talking about? Raise your hand...

Friends don't let friends stir bad cocoa... or do they?

A few years back for reasons I absolutely cannot recall, we (maybe just me and I dragged the rest of you with me?) started calling sexual activities "cocoa stirring" and my oh my, the fun we've had from there. We've discussed the length (width, stamina, strength) of the stirring utensil, the elements needed to get cocoa on full boil, different variations of cocoa, cocoa scents, toppings and on it goes. So for the uninitiated - this really isn't a post about hot chocolate.

Here's a note I received the other day -
Hey Chele, even though I don't comment, I've been following the blog for years and I like hearing from the bougie bros, it's a different perspective on some things. Onto my point - You're not a guy but there's a pretty standard man law about discussing the cocoa once you get a serious girlfriend. But here's my dilemma. A guy that I'm pretty good friends with recently started dating a close friend of my girlfriend  As most women, they have no boundaries about discussing the ins and outs (pun intended) of their intimacies. Long story short, word is that my boy is terrible in bed. Like laughable. Do I tell him or let him go on thinking he's doing something? ~Kev
Kev, my dude. I did not know there were published parameters of what men could, should and do discuss about bedroom game. If this is indeed true, I'll need to see a copy for proof. :) Next, not all women talk about their sex lives, particularly if the relationship is serious. As smart women, we recognize that some of us are treacherous and treasonous, we don't over-share the good stuff lest one of our "friends" decides she wants to try that out for herself. (ya'll don't hear me though)

Most importantly, let's flip the script. What if the guy your girl and her girlfriend were discussing is actually you and your stir game ain't all it could be? Would you like to hear about it from him or from her? My advice is tell your girlfriend to tell her girlfriend to talk to him about it. For real. As you aptly mentioned, I'm not a guy (O__o) so I don't know but does a guy EVER want to discuss cocoa shortcomings with another guy? I'll ask BougieLand...

Ladies, what should Kev do? Fellas, help a bougie bruh out - what should he do? How do you even start that conversation? Who thinks he and his girl should "c" their way out of what is obviously an "a" and "b" conversation? Thoughts, comments, insights? do share...

The No GrandDad Over Correction - A Bougie Bachelorette Chronicle

I love my friend Jayme, I really do. But ur um... she took it upon herself to help me get back on the dating trail (I did not ask for nor want this assistance) by giving my phone number to one of Owen's (her hubby) friends. Okay, yes - I may have mentioned that after dating a man almost ten years younger that mayhaps I needed to see the other side of the spectrum. But I certainly did not mean this week and I did not mean to swing that far to the other side.

Owen is 52 and still fine. (Sorry Jayme, he is) He and Jayme still look good, get out, hang out - it's all good.  With them, 50 is the new 35 and it's working. But for some reason, they decided to give my number to George. George is sixty-two. Yes, I know I'm in my forties but I'm not there yet. I'm not ready to date GrandDad.

George called and introduced himself. He then explained that he saw my picture on The Facebook and thought I was a "cutie pie." He further went on to explain that just because he has eight grandkids, that doesn't mean he can't still "run game" and "get his swerve on." I'm sorry, I immediately thought of the Boondocks episode where GrandDad meets Krystal from "The House of Cheeks" and tries to turn a hoe into a housewife. Not that I'm the hoe in this comparative scenario, I'm just saying the older guy, younger women thing doesn't always work. Oh... and the term "cutie pie" should be reserved for children under the age of ten, puppies and re-runs of Dance Fever.

For those of you who missed the episode - get into it here and thank me later. (My favorite part comes at the 4:30 mark) NSFW - do NOT get fired behind some Boondockery, okay?

I have no problem spending time with folks older than me. Most of my best friends are 5 - 10 years older. My godparents are 85 years old and some of the coolest damn people on the planet. I could hang out with them for days and still be tickled. This dude asked me if I knew how to "shake what my mama gave me" because he still liked to step out to the spot with a  "pretty young thing" on his arm. Provided of course that I knew how to "handle my bidness" in the bedroom and the kitchen. He can't stand "no woman too pretty and siddity who can't cook all over the house." Noooooo!

At this point, I pressed the Mute button and started furiously texting Jayme. 
M: Who IS this dude?
J: Oh, George called. You like him?
M: Dude just asked me if I know how to make boysenberry pie. He has eight grandkids. He is questioning my bedroom game and offering to show me a few things. No, I don't like him.
J: Wait... what?!
M: Uh yes.
J: Hold up a minute.
M: Holding...
J: (she texts back in a few minutes) Sorry about that. We set you up with the wrong George.
M: There's a different George?
J: A younger, less ratchet, no grandkids George. Owen mixed them up.
M: Good to know. Not interested right now.
J: Aw, you sure? He's a great guy.
M: No doubt. Yes. I'm positive. Later.

Can we all pause to send a collective laser beam side-eye to Owen. Dude!? Okay back the shenanigans...

GrandDad George was still talking about the things he liked his woman to cook and how he wanted them prepared. And yes, he was referring to more than pie. Eww. And. Ick. I cut him off and told him to call Owen back because he wanted to talk to him right quick and hung up. Later, George sent me an email on The Facebook telling me that he was still willing to teach me some things and to contact him when I was ready to learn.

I'm not ready, ya'll. I'm not ready...

Have you ever had some friends set you up and then you wondered what the hell they were thinking? Wondered if they ever really knew you at all? Do share... Thoughts, comments, insights on the George of it all? Ladies could you date GrandDad? Fellas? A hook-up with Madea in your future? Inquiring minds want to know...

BMcK foolishness and the #StaySexyStruggle

[Disclaimer - I have long been a Brian McKnight fan. I will admit that I own the entire BMcK discography. I could write a series of books just from scenes in my life with a Brian soundtrack. Okay? Okay.]

So whilst I was away, the Secret Service got busted over Latin American heauxnanigans because they were too cheap to come up off a fiddy. Romney stopped hiding the fact that he's a bigoted elitist idiot. The NFL Draft was more "we'll just have to see how this all works out" than ever. Deion continued his public (and ill-advised) beef with the next soon-to-be-former Mrs. Sanders. And one of my Neo-Soul heroes, Brian McKnight, done lost his damn mind.

Out of all this foolishness, the only thing I truly care to delve into is B. McK's descent into "oh no he didnt"-ness. For those unaware, Mr. McKnight, noted R&B crooner (self-professed poonhound and "relationship expert") decided to drop a little knowledge in the form of a song. In the preview of an upcoming "adult mixtape" Brian shared with the world a tune he lovingly entitled, "If you're ready to learn" - just a little public service announcement to the ladies who need to be more in tune with how their vijayjays work. Yes ladies - Monsieur McKnight wants to "show you how your p***y works" and even finds a way to add catchy rhymes and dulcet beats. 

In the wake of a social media beatdown, Bri-Bri took down the video. But, I'm here to tell Mr. McKnight: I understand, bro. Setting aside the fact that you are not a gynecologist, a sex therapist or even still a sex symbol at this point... I still understand, sir. That struggle to stay relevant, cutting edge, and engaging? 

I get it, Mr. McKnight. I get it. Once upon a time, you were the shiznit (that word dates both of us, I know). Time was the mere mention of Brian McKnight and one of his songs had a direct gravitational pull on Vicki's drawers. They fell, they flew, they disappeared. Songs raced up the charts, women fell at his feet, people stopped comparing him to his older brothers from Take 6 and the world of Mr. McKnight was platinum plated.

Something happened, I don't know. I saw something where Brian was a judge for a Miss Apple Bottoms jeans contest and that's when I figured his career and his #CocoaSexy had taken a turn. Sometime after Coulda, Woulda, Shoulda and before Fall 2.0 (which though not his best was at least decent) - something went awry. Was it the divorce, the talk show, the corner turn from dude in hat to cap-daddy? I don't know.

Allow me to share something with BMcK and my readers that people find hard to accept. Time comes when you are not the hottest thing in the room. It's tough not to want to get that spotlight back. Believe me. For all of us women who strutted around daring anyone to hate on our fabulosity, the moment when you walk in a room and not every head turns (or not a single head turns) because someone cuter/younger/skinnier/more vibrant walked in behind you - it's a reality check. The ability to be okay when you don't get twenty head turns but get that one slow smile with the appreciative head nod - grownupness.

I was talking to a male friend of mine the other day who finally turned a corner. He was standing in the hottest club with the hottest girls, drinking the newest premium vodka and felt both detached and exhausted. I laughed because I've been there. I've been up in the club/at the party looking around wondering why I was there.

Not that we don't love a good party, not that it's not important to look your best - but please, please learn when you no longer have to be the life of that party. Please recognize that it's useless to be forty competing with a twenty year old. I was talking to my teenaged niece about this. We were discussing the lyrics of a Pussycat Dolls song (I know but sometimes you have to speak at their level) - "Number One chick when I step up on the scene." I related that the day would come when not only did she not care about being number one, she wouldn't care about the scene either.

There comes a time when the #StaySexyStruggle is real. We get real jobs, find ourselves in long relationships, have kids, gain or lose weight, tangle with family, juggle money problems, battle illness, stare down drama, bounce back from disappointment... it goes on and on. And with each thing, some of that #StaySexy slips away. Look, it's hard to step back into those stilettos when you've been rocking ballet flats. Fellas know that if they get used to sweatpants and t-shirt life, it's hard to put the suit and the dress shoes on. And really it's not even so much the exterior, it's the #StaySexy attitude - a mindset that you are the best that you can be and everybody better love it or leave it alone. Life sometimes erodes that. You have to hold on it. But you gotta learn to #StaySexy in your own lane. 

I don't care if you still have the body, a 50-year old woman should never be dressing like her 25-year old daughter on club night. There is an entire set of comedic routines based on that "old dude in the club" steez for a reason. Does anyone remember the discomfort when Justin Bieber and Usher did a song/dance routine at one of those reward shows about a year back? Watching the two of them - Usher looked liked a creepy older slower uncle. And Ush still has some sexy left in him, just not while standing next to a teenager. Like Madonna at the Superbowl? Madonna still has some hotness but the lazy gyrating next to people who weren't born when her first album dropped did not reflect well on her. Diddy Dirty Money? He looked dirty alright. Shall I go on?

Okay, on the flip - who watched last week's Grey's Anatomy? If you missed it, Chief Webber (James Pickens Jr) finally got his groove back (yes, I'm dating myself - stay with me) by having some super steamy grown folk time with Mama Avery (played by the still vibrant Debbie Allen). Now that's what I'm talking about. Grown folks don't talk about it, they be about it. 

Bri-Mac: What we do here, stays here man! (it does not go instructional on YouTube to piano accompaniment)  C'mon - that's like a grown and sexy anthem! But this right here? The crooning about ladyparts and how they work might be sexy if you were still 22 (I so very  much doubt it but let's move on) - but at 40+ it just comes across as a desperate attention-seeking stunt from that old guy at the club. Don't be that guy. (And for the record, yes - I called out Trey Songz when he thought he invented sex too) And in the meantime, #StaySexy, my friends.

Who understands what I'm talking about with this #StaySexyStruggle? Can I get a witness? What the hell was Brian thinking? Thoughts, comments, insights?