Bougie Bachelorette Chronicles

Ninety-effing-two on the "Marriagability Matrix" - An ITOFTS Bougie Bachelorette Chronicle

*ITOFTS = I'm Too Old For This Shiggity

I recently had a man tell me that I was 92% of what he was looking for. 

Wait for it...

But he really needed that other 8%.


Knowing that "You can take that 92% and stuff it up your anal-retentive anus" was a bit snide not to mention circular in logic and clearly not the right thing to say, I nodded and replied. "Go find it. And good luck."

He later called and tried to explain this "marriagability matrix" that he had in his mind but by that time I was so pissed off that I let loose a string of Beyonce lyrics strung together from all of her albums and punctuated them by slamming the phone down.

For those who are curious, the matrix had the top ten things you absolutely require in a life partner and then you score 1 - 10 on each item to come up with the total number. For giggles (after pear vodka shots), I did a matrix on dude. He was a 72. Did I tell him that? Hell yes I did when he called BACK to say we were just on a break and he needed time. I need no more time to wait on a 72 to get his mind right. Again.

This got me to wondering - if you had to rank your spouse/s.o. on a marriagability matrix - what might you put on it and how might they score? How would you score? Now don't go kicking up dust in your happy homes to feed my curiousity. I asked this question of several married and long-standing relationship couples I know and rarely did they rank each other higher than an 81. And they were happy about it. That's a B. 

I was a 92 and he walked. Say it with me now - I'm too old for this shiggity. We don't have to hold a requiem for this relationship, I'm already onto the next. Cuz apparently in addition to being an A-, I'm a serial monogamist and a glutton for punishment... :-/

Do you believe in rankings/criteria when it comes to choosing a mate or just go with your gut/heart? Do tell...

If you can't step up, why did you step forward? A Mature Bougie Bachelorette Chronicle

For all the 20- and 30-something Bougienistas out there kvetching about how hard dating is; here's an unfortunate fact: It doesn't get any easier as you get older. I'm sorry. I'm dishing truth straight no-chaser, it gets no easier. In fact, the pool is smaller and your patience is shorter and let's not even talk about battle-weariness and dating fatigue. I'm in something now that I want to call a relationship but without official confirmation of said status - we just hanging on. Yep. The Struggle Continues.

You would think as daters age, they would mature. That is not always the case. You would think as folks age, they know their own mind. That's also not always the case. People tend to get less open-minded as they get older, not more so. People that have the ability and willingness to change usually have done so before hitting age forty and up. So weigh those things into the dating pool. We're going to explore this with the Mature Bougie Bachelor and Bachelorette Chronicles... cuz some of us ain't 30 anymore... Let's look at one of the 40+ Bachelorette Chronicles:

Bougie Bachelorette #1 (BB1) is back in the dating game after a hiatus. To avoid some of the foolery of past experiences, she joined a site specifically geared to singles in her age bracket. Let's skip past the fellas who couldn't form a sentence, typed in texticon-ebonicionary or had the opening salvo of whatever the 2014 equivalent of I Wanna Sex U Up is. Let's also set aside the ones that when their names were Googled revealed mugshots, entire blogs devoted to their chicanery or pages upon pages of Don't Date Him Girl dot com misdeeds. Let's talk about the fellas such as these:

Have you met any strong black man on this site? and I notice one thing about this site, that women have very high standards, you have to have a Master degree, a PhD to be a certain height,. there is not a lot of men out there that can meet the qualifications, sometimes I think women are looking for James Bond
a lot of them will be on this site and will never find what they're looking for
because their standards are too high there are more professional women then there are men

Okay then. Let's look past the grammar fails and the overt negativity. Is this how you attract a woman? This is how you come out the gate? This sounds like the re-washed jargon of "relationship experts" who swear that women can't find a "good man" because they over-reach. Le Arrgh. Wouldn't it have been more productive to lead off with some of his positive attributes? And wait - is ANYONE looking for James Bond? Isn't that character well-known for being a martini-swilling womanizer more in love with country, killing and gadgetry than anything else in his life? Moving on...

As a courtesy, BB1 responded to him.

I'm not looking for James Bond but I have a Master’s Degree and so I am looking for someone who is above average intelligence and able to hold a conversation on current topics. I have met other African American males on this site but yet to meet my match. Honestly, I'm over 50, so I don't play games and expect a man to step to me in a real way, thoughts?

So now she's given him an opportunity to tell her something good about himself, right? He can be erudite and share why he's able to step to her with realness. Instead he sends this:

respect that I am 57 years And I do not have the education that you have, I wish you the best and good luck

Make it stop. You all know I hate all of that "swim in your own lane, play your position, know your role, don't be a 2 reaching for an 8" nonsense BUT... If you have an obvious inferiority complex and have been burned or scorned or overlooked by professional education sisters in the past, why are you stepping to? With weak game? Yo no comprendo. Je nais comprends pas. I ont get it, ya'll. Is it just me or should he have kept that to himself and gone on to the next?

Sisters, how would you handle this kind of interaction? Fellas, does bruh-man have a point or nah? Please share....

The (Sometimes) Inappropriate Behavior of (Some) Men

Now ya'll know I love the fellas. Love, love, love them. Even when their Y chromosome cause their brains to stutter and fizzle on and off like a drowned firecracker on the 5th of July, I still have love for the fellas. You can always count on a man to bring in a perspective that perhaps women have not thought of in that exact same way. Good, bad or ugly. But you can also always count on men to get together and cook something up that women would never in a million years do. Bless their hearts.

Let me start with backstory for those who are regulars. I was dating a guy named David. He has about 5 or 6 close friends (all of them from UGa - Shawn, Trey, Bryan, Wes and Jay) that he still hangs out with. We dated for about 18 months, recently split for a variety of reasons and now you're all caught up. I've written this post four times now. The first time, it sounded like a scene from one of my books. The second time, it was just angry. The third was too much commentary. This one is what it was:

I was at the new Bouge Mahal late last night chilling. When you go back to living alone after years of roommateiness, you appreciate the beauty of chill time. I can sit on the sofa in shorts that are three sizes too big, a sports bra of indeterminate color and a ripped Cowboys t-shirt older than any of us care to think about. I can wash my hair and let it air dry because I don't have to be anywhere special the next day. Who cared if my hair was a wavy poufy mane of fail? I can sit there with only one dim lamp on sipping one of my homemade wine cocktails and doing absolutely nothing else. It was a heavenly moment.

The heavenly moment was rudely interrupted by frantic knocking at the front door. This was startling since as far as I knew, only about four people in the world have my new address and only one of them (BougieYoungerBro) would show up at this time of night. And he would call/text first. With a sigh, I got up and looked through the peephole. It was Shawn. 

Really Shawn? Because again, no one has my address and if they do - it's not an apartment you stumble across and lastly, who comes by without calling at 11:00pm on a Monday night? Assuming some sort of tragedy has befallen one of the Georgia Boyz crew, I opened the door. Shawn, who is never without words, stood there silently looking at me.

"What is it, Shawn? Is everyone okay?"

"Oh, yeah. Yeah. Everyone's real good. You look well."

No. I did not. But whatever. "How'd you get my address?"

"I have an ex who works at AT&T, she pulled up your U-verse bill." Security FAIL, AT&T. Security FAIL!!

I stepped to the side and invited him in. He took one cautious step inside the door, "Are you alone?"

"You would know if you'd called first. I'm alone. What is going on?"

He walked around (cased the joint) before coming back into the living room. "I like it."

"Awesome. I live for your approval. You have five minutes to explain this visit and then you can bounce." Understand my confusion: Shawn and I are friends but not drop-by-each-other's-house-after-dark-without-calling-first friends. 

He sat down on the couch next to me. "Listen, don't get mad..."

Don't people know that when they start a conversation like that, it automatically makes you mad? I heaved a sigh, "Oooo-kay."

"David and I talked."

"Something you do regularly."

"Woman, can a brother get his words together?"

Biting my tongue, I motioned for him to carry on.

"David and I talked and you should be with somebody."

I blinked slowly. "I see." I didn't see. Not at all.

"You should be with someone good. You know a real dude. Not some random that you have to start over from scratch and figure everything out with. Someone who will be good to you. Let's you be you but brings himself to the table too. Know what I'm saying?"

I nodded with mounting irritation, "You and David for some reason were talking about my next man? You think I need to be with someone real. Someone you two endorse? Approve of? That can't be what you're saying."

"David wants the best for you and if it can't be him than it should be someone of that caliber."

Uh. Huh. "And you just happen to know someone perfect and oh, by the way, David is cool with me seeing them? Who might this be?"

He shrugged and smiled, "Uh. Me."

I kid you not, I fell off the sofa. "You?! Are you kidding me? Mr. 'She Ain't Giving Up the Booty Fast Enough'? Mr. 'She Should Recognize She's Lucky to Be With Me'? Mr. 'My Way or The Highway'? What?!! Of the ten things I would change about David, you have 9 of those traits ratcheted up to the nth power." I stood up and went ballistic, "And what the hell am I? A plate of cookies to be passed around? Are you all smoking crack at poker night now? Who came up with this idea and are you seriously here saying this right now? To me?"

"So... you're just mad right now but you'll think about it or the whole concept of you and me is a no go?"

"Wait a minute? David signed off on this? Really?"

"Okay, here's what happened..."

"Please explain."

"We were talking about the not dating each other's exes rule and Jay said it was a shame because between us there were some quality exes on the shelf."

"ON THE SHELF?!" Yes, I shrieked.

"Uh - he didn't mean it like that. Anyway. So then we started discussing whose exes the others of us wouldn't mind dating and your name came up. David said if he had to see you with someone else, it might as well be one of us."

Wow. Magnanimous. Did he think that was a compliment? Cuz it wasn't - isn't. I was actually insulted as all hell that they sat around discussing my dateability like it was up for auction. Well hell, maybe it was. "Did ya'll draw straws, roll dice, Rock/Paper/Scissors to see who got next? Were bids involved? How close did I come to have Trey at the door instead of you?"

Finally, Shawn started to realize that his visit was not well-received and he was in danger of getting a satin-slippered foot raised near his hindparts. "I swear it wasn't like that. We spoke about you with the highest respect. And you know I have no problems finding women of my own to date but I think you and I could be interesting together. I brought up the topic and launched the conversation because this is my interest. Mine and I didn't want to be sneaky or creepy about it." He took two steps forward and I took three back. "Will you just think about it? It makes perfect sense. We have great chemistry. We have similar backgrounds, goals, future plans. We like a lot of the same things. We're both easy on the eyes. I already know you're an outstanding girlfriend. Who knows what this could be? At the very least, we'll have some fun together."

Sweet Jesus deliver me from male thinking. Dude has no problem getting women so I should be honored he was over here round midnight hollering? And that my EX was okay with it? And while I may be an outstanding girlfriend, Shawn has never shown himself to be that stellar a boyfriend. At the very least, we'd have SOME FUN together?! Anyway why was I even running through the pro/cons in my mind. I like Shawn but not like that. And I don't keep fishing in the same small pond after throwing one back. Nope. I answered, "Yeah, no. Thanks for coming by. Tell everyone I said hey."

Shawn nodded, "Think on it. Seriously. I'll call you tomorrow. You owe it to yourself and to me to give it some consideration. And when you blog about it, be sure to mention that everyone has your best interests at heart." I may have slammed the door before his left foot was completely outside. 

BougieLand - am I crazy to be super ticked off? I can't be the only one to think this is messy, messy, messy and did I say messy? Fellas, would you EVER do this? Ladies, what would you say to Shawn and to David? Shawn and David - Really DUDES? Thoughts, comments, explanations?

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...

And STILL not married?!

About ten days ago, we celebrated BougieMom's 80th birthday. It was an awesome testimony and tribute to  a wonderful woman with a well-lived life. We had a lot of family and friends in town and it's almost always great to catch up with people who have known you for the majority of your life.

Once we got past the "you look great, how have you been" cocktail hour, we settled down to dinner. Folks milled from table to table catching up and getting a chat on. All was well until someone rolled up and leaned in. "Michele, I just don't get it. You're so beautiful, talented, accomplished and you can really cook. And you're STILL not married?! I just don't understand what's wrong with these men."

Wow. She was extra loud on the "STILL" portion of that question. My smile went completely phony and I had to literally take a deep breath before answering. "Well, you would have to tell me when you figure it out." Fake chuckle, chitter chatter, onto the next.

A girlfriend of mine leaned in and asked, "Does that happen to you often?"

I nodded, "All. The. Time."

And really, it's not even the whole "Girl, no ring? No kids?" part of it that sets my teeth on edge. It's the build up. It's the "but you're so fabulous, why aren't you snapped up" portion that has me thinking longingly of my tequila shot days. As if they need to tell me how wonderful I am but pondering what could possibly be wrong with me. Like all I should have been doing is rolling up on some gent, show him a resume, two referrals and whip him up a lasagna and I'm married by next week. I'll try that next time. I'll lead with the lasagna.

It's truly almost as if it's one thing to be "of a certain age" and single but to be accomplished, moderately passable in looks and single?! Well that's just a damn crime. Le Sigh.

Next came the insensitive party attendee who actually named names. "What happened between you and Dude1? You too used to be so tight! I just knew you and he would end up married!" I muttered some random excuse and she came back again, "But what about Dude2? What happened there?" Thankfully, my nephew decided he needed some Aunt Chele time and came to sit in my lap and ask me questions not pertaining to my single state.

Just when I thought I had a reprieve came the kicker, "So do you think you'll just never get married then?" Saints preserve us. Folks have zero couth. Especially when they've known you forever. I flashed a smile and turned to talk to someone else at the table.

Truth is, I have no idea whether I'll get married or not. And despite all previous relationship drama, after my man hiatus I reckon I'll put back on the pumps and lip gloss and see what's left in the dating pool. But all the movies and books where you see single woman doing crazy things to have a date by their side for weddings and family functions... this entire post is exactly why. 

I've asked it before but it's always worthy of a remix - What do you say when people ask you why you're still single? And if you're not, do you ask single people this? Why? Please respond...

How soon is too soon?

Okay now. I appreciate those of you that were classy enough to offer an ear, a shoulder, a keyboard for me to vent on after hearing about my breakup. Thanks so much, ya'll totally rock. But some of ya'll - and no, I'm not going to call you out your names - were just plain wrong.

Three of you offered to set me up with your freinds. Two of you wondered if David is back on the market yet. And more than a few of the fellas were offering complete other body parts for me to lean on in my time of recovery. What part of the game is that? To dude who said, "The best way to get over one is to get on another one," might I say... no thank you?

This got me to thinking. How soon is too soon to holla at someone just going through a break up? I mean, is someone rolling up on Katie Holmes-Cruise right about now? Shouldn't there be a sort of cooling off, neutral zone, palate-cleansing period?

I know the standard protocol for a widowed person to begin dating again is one year. (No idea where I read that, chances are I just made it up) I don't know if there's a divorced person protocol. I guess it depends on why the divorce happened and how long it took to be finalized. I mean if one party or the other was stepping out, all bets are off - right? Or if the divorce has been lingering for months and months,

But a break-up protocol? Hmm... Shouldn't you at least wait until the post about the break-up is at the bottom of the webpage, the body is cold, and I've changed my Facebook status? I mean, take a person's relationship temperature before you come at them all sideways! Or is that just me?

I always need a hiatus (those of you who have been around a while know this) before even thinking about being onto the next. Other friends of mine end one relationship and are back out there a week or so later. I guess it depends on where you are and what you thinking and feeling. 

BougieLand, what say you? How soon is too soon for a person to holla at someone they know just went through a break up? How soon is too soon for that person to "get back on the horse" so to speak? Thoughts, comments, insights?

The Awkward After

The after-the-breakup awkward is one of those uncomfortable period of adjustments that you just have to get through. There's no shortcut, no getting around it. If you are ever going to lay eyes on this person again in life, there's going to be something.

So there I stood, outside David's front door debating... should I knock, ring the doorbell? When you are used to pulling into the garage and letting yourself in, it's awkward to now follow rules of etiquette. With a sigh, I rang the doorbell. He came to the door, opened it and immediately asked, "Why didn't you pull in the back?" See? Awkward. I just shrugged, said hello and stepped in.

There's no delicate way to gather up your stuff from someone else's house. In the past, to avoid long drawn out awkwardization, I tended to tip over when I knew the person wouldn't be home. If someone was coming to get stuff from my place, I had it already packaged. (Or burning on the front driveway, a la Waiting to Exhale..."Get yo' shit!" Okay, maybe not) My favorite post break-up was the ex who mailed all the stuff I had ever given him to my house. My mom's face when she saw the cuff links she had helped me pick out for him tossed into a cardboard box? Awesome (not!). BougieYoungerBro now rocks those. I believe in recycling.

Moving on... so I had a suitcase and a tentative smile as I eased past him towards the bedroom. I had hoped that he had pulled all the random stuff together and all I had to do was scoop and go. When I noticed none of this had been done, I sent him The Look. He shrugged, "Until you came to get it, it's like you're still here." Ouch. I nodded and began tossing hair products, potions and lotions into the bag. Cleared out my drawer, walked into the closet and sighed. I had stuff all over the damn place. Thankfully, he turned and walked out. It was uber-awkward having him watch me unhang an item, fold it and pack it away.

When I walked back out to the den, he was on the sofa. It was all kind of weird because we were passed the sad phase and onto the resigned 'this is how it's gonna be' phase. Maybe because we both knew this day was coming. There was only one thing left to do. I handed over the garage door opener, the keys and the engagement ring I'd never gotten in the habit of wearing. That made him angry.
"Keep the ring." 
"It was specifically for you. Not like I'm going to give that ring to someone else." 
"Okay then, take it back to the jeweler and get credit or exchange or something." 
"Michele, I don't want the damn ring back. It's yours." 

I did not want to argue. I nodded, "Okay. Talk to you later," and as I walked past the front table, I set the ring down and headed out the door. Saturday, in the mail, the ring came back with a note, "I said keep it."  With the underline. Arrgh!

BougieLand, any nice neat way to retrieve personal items from exes? Has anyone had any drama with this? And let's take a straw poll - who thinks I should keep the ring and who thinks I should send it back? Thoughts, comments, insights?

More true confessions of a Bougie Chick...

Well, since it's kinda been true confession time on BnB, I might as well come clean. 

David asked me to marry him on my birthday (back in January) and that's where the trouble started. The fact that he tossed the ring across the table and said, "Now you'll have to figure out what to do with me," started us on a slippery slope. The fact that I gave him a "definite maybe" and asked if we could discuss it again in six months probably didn't help. And before anyone asks, the reason I didn't do a cartwheel and scream 'Yes, of course!" was because I knew we had things to work out before we could take this major step. 

And then came the long absences due to travel (his), the health issues (mine) and a decided lack of willingness to compromise (ours). 

Three huge relationship killers - distance, stress and lack of communication all rolled into one. But the most important roadblock that we kept coming up against was that we stopped being on the same page as to what was important and what came next. Truly, we should've probably called it a day in January but because we knew that we had something worth a fight, we toughed it out. The growing pains were damn near lethal but we kept going. We broke up, got back together, "stepped away", got back together until finally, it was enough.

We agreed that we wanted the same things but not with each other as we are now. (see how I worded that?) Whether we'll change our minds in the future, I don't know. We didn't scream, we didn't rant, we didn't hurl accusations, we just talked it out and arrived at the same conclusion. We are still being amicable, friendly and whatnot. I (for once) don't hold any grudges and I don't think he does either. His boys, however? Ya'll might have to help them along. I think Trey cried. Shawn and Jay lectured us (really, guys) for about an hour. Bryan and Wes wanted to know if they have to chose which of us to stay friends with. No fellas, you don't. My mom's feelings are hurt, his mom's feelings are hurt but in the end, we gotta do what we gotta do.

So while yes, it's sad that we broke up... it's not necessarily a bad thing. Oh and to the two folks who asked me if they could date David if he and I ever broke up... that's a negatory. 

By the time you all read this, I'll be sitting in a casita at the Four Seasons in Punta Mita, Mexico. BougieSis and I will be chilling beachfront for five days. I, for one, am so ready to lay somewhere and do nothing but stare at water. 

In other news, we've had a lot of requests to do a BnB Book Club. I'm going to kick it off when I get back. Yes, of course, I will be starting with two of mine: Heard it all Before and then the sequel which comes out at the end of July, Pretty Boy Problems. Both of these books are told from both the male and female point of view so fellas, don't be shy about joining in. After that, we'll branch out. 

Let's get this summer going. Talk to you next week!

Fellas - do you really want easy for the long haul?

Le Dude and I were squabbling over various and sundry, real and imagined beefs the other day when in what was clearly a moment of pure frustration, Dude heaved a sigh and exclaimed, "I'm just having a hard time with you, every other woman I've dated eventually fell in line and did what I wanted."

Yep. Let that sink in. Marinate in that por uno momento.

I did not let it sink in, I burst into peals of delighted laughter. (As did BougieMom when I told her, I mean she literally slid off her chair into gales of giggles. "He's met you right?" Side-eye, Nellie Mae. Side. Eye. Anywho...) I asked him in all seriousness, "If that's what you wanted, what are you doing with me? You had to know the chances of me going all Coming-to-America-Whatever-You-Like were slim to negative damn none."

"I know. I know. I don't really want you to change. I just want you to be a little easier."


I won't get into a whole thing about how I'm really not that hard on him. Bless his heart that at nearly 18 months he can still get clueless from time to time. Nor will I point out that his own mama told me on the day she met me that the boy has been spoiled by women all his life and needs "a firm hand." None of that is here nor there. (It really isn't. Please don't write me a ton of comments about how he (or I) should know better, do better, speak better.)

Nor are we discussing "easy" as in dropping drawers for a Big Mac and fries. This is easy like Sunday morning easy, smooth sailing, few ripples on the water easy. Stay bougie with me, people.

Now that I've given the example, let's not make this about David and I. I'm taking this hypothetical- Why would a man who swears he wants an equal want a woman (for the long run) who just gives in all the time? I should think having someone just constantly cosign would be exhausting. Far more exhausting than debating divergent points of views and settling on a compromise? Or am I being naive? 

And I wonder from both points of view - does a woman want a man she can bend to her will at ease? Is doormatism really hot in the streets? Fellas? Ladies? Thoughts, insights, comments? Do share...

Me, the Mama, the Maid and the Battle for Tortilla Soup Supremacy

My life has been turned upside down because of tortilla soup this week. These are first world problems to be sure. But bear with me here...

Le Dude is laid up with pneunomia. I called his part-time housekeeper Rosalita and asked if she wouldn't mind freshening up the house (I've kinda ignored it whilst he was away) and changing sheets and what not. Rosalita (who would do ANYTHING for Señor David) was devasted to hear that he was ill and offered to not only clean up but grocery shop and make el Dude her famous tortilla soup.  Awesome.

We get David home and settled just in time for his mother to show up. (If you missed it, we met her here.) Not a chance was her only boy going to be ill and she not fly in to be by his side. Her "baby" turns 37 next week but, uh - alrighty then. She immediately hustles him out of the bed and into the steam shower so he can "sweat it out" - alrighty. While he's simmering in the shower, she runs out to get him "better" sheets and a new comforter set. Alrighty then.

When she leaves, I head into the bathroom where he is looking mighty cooked on the steam bench. I free him from the human crockpot and get him back in the bed and start hydrating. I'm reading the labels on the meds when Rosalita comes in with her tortilla soup. He took a sip and smiled at her. The minute she left the room, he set the bowl down and announced, "It's not your tortilla soup." He follows that up with the big "I'm sad and I'm sick" eyes and next thing you know I'm in the damn kitchen whipping up tortilla soup.

When the soup is done, his mama is back from Bed, Bath and Beyond. She announces that she had planned to make David her world famous chicken and dumplings soup but he declined. So now I'm getting the side-eye. Did not stop her from sitting on down and getting a bowl of my soup for herself. But I got the side-eye of life. Whatevs. David went to sleep happy.

Next day I get a phone call from Mama David. Those "ragamuffin" boys came by and ate all of David's soup. It's the only thing he wants to eat. Can I give her the recipe? (Her exact words "Since you are the Soup Queen around here, all I can do follow your lead") Alrighty. Now anyone who knows me a little bit knows I don't generally cook from a recipe. I toss ingredients together, season to taste and Viola! She didn't like that answer so I did the best I could, I really did.

That night, I swing by to check in and chaos has ensued. Mama David made the soup but her baby boy scrunched up his nose and announced, "It's not Michele's soup." [Am I the only one giving Dude the side-eye for throwing me under the bus like that?] Mama David wants to know why the food she cooks is no longer good enough for her son. In fact she states, "Girl you're running his whole life, you might as well marry him." Oh. I had to take a moment to remind myself that this is her baby and the youngest of 6. Woo-sah.

Meanwhile, the fellas have come by and they want to know where the Michele Soup is as well. Rosalita has come by and figured out that her soup didn't make the cut. Long story short, everybody is tart and giving me the side-eye when I walk in the door. I put the boys out, sent Rosalita home, sat Mama David down with some wine and checked on David - who was sleeping through the whole shebacle. I made Italian tomato veggie soup and warmed a loaf of bread, chucked the deuces and rolled out.

Mama David has decided to stay another week. I told David I'd see him then. I'm going to make some (small) allowances since the man sounds like he has elephants tap dancing on his chest but er... um... What's to be done about men and their mamas? Nothing but stay out of the way as far as I can tell... BougieLand, any thoughts?