It's Lunch Time!

I just felt like sharing this photo from the 2007 Atlanta Greek Picnic. That's me on the end repping for the big girls. Luscious, ain't I? Hips, thighs, and mo'.

PS I see ya, taklifbystorm and T. Dixon! Thanks for the comments! Keep coming by! (yes...I'm excited)

.....

It's 5:04, and I have 56 minutes left. How do I not use my time wisely? First, I go to FaceBook for any updates. I had to add one of my reddest soRHOrs to my friends list and just check on a couple of folks at random. Then, I come over here to share my world with the people. I'm tying as fast as I can, but the craziness is that I'm only giving myself 30 minutes for lunch. I'm tired and groggy as hell because I've been up all day just working and typing. I want to lay my head down, but that would be sleeping on calories. Can't quite do that because I need to get about 3 pounds off before the end of the month. So, I have to stay wide awake because I just refused to call first dibs on an earlier lunch. I usually go around 1:30, so this is bad.... I don't know what a workout will be like today, but I can't fall off now.

In the meantime, someone is trying the hell out of me. Bones is still out of town, and I haven't heard a peep from him. No text message. No quick phone call. No voicemail. I'm not sweating it, but I just find it interesting because of the events of this weekend. Maybe it's a test from God to figure out if I really, really want to be with someone so much older than me that I think I'm so compatible with. Or maybe someone up above is trying to tell me, "That dude ain't calling you, so you might as well go out to play! Do you see how fine you are, girl!?! You betta go play da game."

See, I went to a picnic on Saturday afternoon. I honestly intended to kick it with the sorors at this blue and gold picnic and roll out after an hour. I ended up helping them clean because I stayed behind having too much fun. Spades helped to hype me up because I would up handling things at a table with 3 interesting guys. None of them were really my type, but your girl was effervescing all over those guys and getting to talk some serious Spades trash. I even had to school my partner on the virtue of not underbidding.

"But why bid 8 when you only need to bid 4?" this dummy asks.

I look at him with an incredulous look of, "Is you serious?" I thought for a moment and nicely said, "It's the sportsmanship of the game. Underbidding your hand on purpose is pretty underhanded because it can set up your opponents to believe they may be underbidding. So your card playing is based on underhanded tactics, not sheer skills."

Dummy quickly says, "So? As long as you win."

My eyes narrow as I glare at him. "So, you're okay with cheating yourself out of an earned win? You're okay with cheating in general?"

He said some mess that basically meant it was okay, and I had to let it go. There's only so much stupidity I can take on a beautiful day in the park with free fixings and a banging mix CD full of old school R&B and hip hop. But before I let it go, I had to point to all the sandbags on the scoresheet and strongly advise him, "Bid yo' hand!" The other two guys and two of my sorors were quite entertained that I had to break it down to someone obviously older than me.

After the picnic, I kicked it with two sorors at Target. When you're around two cool people and the cutest chocolate baby that flirts better than some 30somethings, Target is a hella cool place. We shopped around and found cute stuff including some fantastic yellow beads: translucent, full of glitter, and as my brother, NOPI, describes them, like anal beads (graduated beads for the rest of you).

Eventually, I head home. At some later time, I call my friend, Special K. (Refresh yourself by visiting http://sunshynelyfe.blogspot.com/2007/02/boredom-has-set-in-lately.html.) We talked recently after I called him for a while. But while I was leaving messages, I was still getting to know Bones. Fast forward to Saturday, and I'm trying to keep my mind occupied so I don't have to wrestle with not calling Bones, so I call Special K. It's quite late, but he lives 3 minutes drive from me. He says I can come by to hang out. Cool.

What's interesting is before I make it to Special K's place, I go grocery shopping in all my afroliciousness. Yo' girl was on point in a cute gold top, dark denim capris, and a nice set of the blue anal beads for my neck. Niiice. So nice that a guy starts to hit on me in the store. Scott (who's real name can be revealed because he probably won't come up again) is 5'8', well built, caramel, nice smile, Jamaican. We walk around the store, talk, and exchange numbers. He really seemed smitten, meaning I probably won't be smitten. Interesting question: where was this dude when I was looking for someone? Why do these guys come out the wood works when you think you've finally found someone that you like?

So, I leave the store and wind up on Special K's doorstep. Not for a booty call. Just friendly time together. He opens the door in his white wifebeater and his brand new tattoo of his daughter's name on his shoulder. It's quite nice, and it's nicely positioned on his nice, big, round shoulder. But I have to blink back to reality and remember my sweetie. We sit around, we talk and reconnect, and then the inevitable happens: that dude tried me.

"Those beads are just so big. So juicy. Like you could eat one for breakfast."

In hindsight, I really missed what he meant. "Play with the beads if you want. They're just beads."

Special K takes his fingers up to the beads and rolls one around slowly. Somehow, I feel his finger lightly land on my chest that was nicely exposed. Then, I realize his finger is starting to linger, get comfortable, and move across my skin. WTF? I try to be cool and just remove his hand from my area before it finds my areola.

That clown tried me a couple of other times. He took the cake when he actually told me he wish he missed someone the way I was missing Bones. This clown just told me about some chick that he calls his Suga Mama.... Then, he asks me seriously, "Why don't you break up with the guy you're dealing with so you can hang out with me?" Again, WTF??? I thought about it later and realized he really wanted me to drop the cool dude that likes me the way that I am, but he still manages to encourage me to lose weight because he knows that's what I want. Special K wanted to be just friends only 5 months ago and now wants me just because me and my milkjugs are on his couch. I must admit I was cute as hell, and my shape was obvious..., but that dude is crazy. Needless to say, nothing happened for Special K, but I got the satisfaction of knowing that the dude that made me his friend wanted me.

Fast forward to Sunday, and I'll tell you two more dudes came out of the wood works including NutCase. Four dudes in 3 days. The last time I had this much blasting from the past, there were four dudes that came back around in three weeks. Fascinating stuff. I think God is straight trying me so I can figure a lot of things out including what I want out of a love life. I have a lot to reflect on before turning 30.

I've never thought of calling anyone else sunshine besides myself. But that's what Bones has become for me: a regular dose of sunshine. I can't talk about him all the time, but his effect on me is felt all the time. His spirit, his laughter, his adoration, his handsome face, his touch...all of it makes me feel so warm and glowy on the inside. He doesn't like the pet name of sunshine, but it applies. I'm open to any super sweet suggestions.

Meantime, I can't wait until 6 PM today. No, it's not Bones. It's my new addiction, and it involves a new guy. He can work it like no other! I love to watch him "make it do what it do" as he inspires me and dozens of others every Thursday. My Step instructor, Kamick (prounounced Ka-meek), is deliriously off the chain! That Thursday Step class is filled with a whole slew of guys that I find to be sexy but untouchable - only because all of them are gay like Kamick. But that means I'm really at this location to handle business because I'm pretty confident that not a single guy in there is looking at me because they're all busy trying to get fine for each other. If that's their cup of tea, then they can sip all day. Just as long as I get to have my hour of beautiful torture with Kamick on the step, then it's copacetic.

...

I got to the gym late, but I was in luck because my homegirl, Ms. EastSider, decided to try out the class I had been raving about, and she set up a step for me. The only negative: the step was dead in the front of the class where people could easily see me not getting yet another complicated step. I missed out on stretching with the class, but I did stretch my lower back. There was a lot of the usual: hamstrings around the world (hamstring curls while rotating in four points around and across the step bench); knee repeaters; and L-step.

Of course, Kamick always has us doing stuff that only his seasoned vets know about, but you just have to endure this lovely frustration of not knowing and keep a smile on your face as you fight to pick up the moves. The funny part is that I wind up beating myself up for not being able to get some of the moves. Then, when I stop to wipe the waterfalls of sweat from my face, rest my muscles for 10 seconds, and catch my breath, I look around and find almost the whole room has stopped because Kamick has called out some wild combos that maybe 2 or 3 vets can keep up with.

But that's the sincere beauty of the class. It inspires you to do your best to keep up with the rest of the class and one day become one of the few vets that can keep with Kamick's combos. You don't want to drag down the rest of the class, so I wind up pushing myself harder and further to keep up. But you can't just keep up only one day of the week. That class actually motivates me to work out the rest of the week so I can get a natural high from working out in that class. My eating habits have to improve so I won't be taking this class in vain. After all the sweating and sore Fridays I've had since starting the class, I refuse to still be the big girl in class that can keep up. At some point, I have to use that DISCIPLINE to move forward and be a better but more svelte Sunshyne.

NOTE: Sunshyne will not remain the same big girl in her 30s that she was in her 20s. Mark my words.

Patience is a virtue...so I've heard

That "Epiphany" post is probably going to be one of my top 10 posts ever, but it appears I set a false alarm. I've never claimed that I was a master at that virtue of patience.



It had been a while, but Bones and I finally talked. Please believe that things didn't just pick up exactly where they left on the 4th. Conversation was very slow although Bones was happy to be talking to me. He seemed oblivioius to the situation, but what man isn't? Then I remember the idea that a man is not a mind reader, so I had to spell it out for him.

"What did I do to you to make you not call?" I asked.


"What do you mean?" he answered with another question. "I was gonna ask you the same thing. You didn't do anything to me. You're too nice of a person. Did I do anything to you?"


Innocently, I answer, "No. I didn't think you did. But I was starting to think you were having second thoughts about me even though you brought me around one of your daughters."

Bones replies, "Well, I had the same thoughts. You brought your sister-in-law, y'all started talking after y'all left. Maybe you changed your mind after that. Don't you think I get to thinking about us, too?"

Well, damn, I thought to myself. That led to a tense conversation where I had to provide some background. This is my second time around the block with Bones. The first time around...I couldn't stand him. We did not click at all. Terrible. It seemed like he disagreed with everything I said just for the sake of disagreeing. Eventually, we lost touch and moved on with our lives.

Then, in May '07, I get a random call from a chick wanting to have a Slumber Party at the last minute. Specifically, this chick wanted a fly bachelorette party on a Saturday, and she was calling on a Thursday - like she didn't know that a bachelorette party wouldn't be coming up on the Saturday before the wedding. Like someone really called her up and said, "Hey! I'm getting married this Saturday. Throw me a bachelorette party!" Great Slumber Parties take time, and 48 hours is not a good time to plan a hot girls night out. Good thing I already had a party booked, and the chick was passed off to another distributor. With only 48 hours notice, the distributor I passed it to could only provide a decent girls night out. Then again, Chick actually had the most bootleg ideas ever for her party.

But the cool thing about this Chick was she was referred to me by Bones. When she gave the name for the referral, I said, "Bones? Who is Bones?" Chick says, "You know Mr. Bones. He works at the hospital. He's a supervisor...."


Lightbulb! "I remember Bones! I haven't talked to him in ages. Tell him I'd still spank that behind in dominoes when he's ready."

Somewhere along the way, Bones calls me, we talk, and we eventually meet up for a game of dominoes. He beat me in a game with double 15s, but we both obviously enjoyed each other's company. The rest is history that has yet to be written. However (my favorite word of the moment), I shared something that I recognized about him: he's a dude that doesn't like to call. He loves hanging out in person, but he's just not a phone person. Therefore, he could easily disappear and leave me hanging. That concept drives me crazy, but our tense conversation led to the beginning of us both putting in more work towards our friendship.

I'm pretty much left with trying to determine if he is really in this friendship with me because he wants something serious or if he just wants to get physical with the young woman. I have to wonder because he is quite a bit older than me - he just doesn't look or act his age. So, my eyes are open, and I'm hoping I can completely open my heart to him slowly and in due time.

Epiphany

I'm trying to be a cool employee while I'm still here. I don't know exactly when my time here will end and my time in a big rig begins, so I better be a team player in the meantime. Not so much that I look like I'm brown-nosing, but some of y'all know the happy medium. So, when I get e-mail about volunteering for a project about our company's website, I go for it. How hard can it be? I won't go into details because I try to be as professional as possible (although I'm wearing jogging pants and a sorority tee as I type), but it's quite easy and would make me look good just for volunteering for a mundane task.

At 3 PM, I have to attend the meeting with Yoga Guy. From what I hear, he's a biz wiz, but he's also a master yoga instructor. Yoga Guy must be for real because he's always so calm and serene in Lunch and Learn meetings when telling our small group how our company has the best product in our field. Let the VP of Sales tell the same deal to the same people, and you'd think he was earning the commission of a lifetime. All of Yoga Guy's serenity makes me think of Mr. Rogers without the cardigan and trolley. So, I enter his sweatbox of an office where I can imagine him in various yoga positions throughout the day as he takes advantage of the heat. He calls in the head IT person to help explain my part of the project. It's crystal clear what I'm doing.

Then, IT guy and Yoga Guy get into some other "meta" talk. HTML content appears on the screen, Yoga Guy starts highlighting, and I can literally hear Beavis saying, "Words, words, words, words...." This means nothing to me, so I start to check out of the meeting from my seat.

My mind miraculously flitters to Bones. My heart didn't start thinking of how much I like him or how I rank him about a 7 in the face. As most minds tend to do during the day, my reverie settled on the last time we touched in a special way. There was no sex because it's too early for that. But there's something my older gentleman friend does to me, coupled with the personality chemistry, that makes me even more sensitive to his touches, kisses, licks, and whatever else he can come up with. The last time we got together, I got down to my unmentionables, and he got me to writhing in pleasure, cooing in ectasy, and tugging at the bed linens. Bones surprisingly drove me over the edge when he bit my inner thigh coupled with two other moves at the same time. My first real orgasm without taking off my underwear or having one of God's masterpieces inside of me or all over and around my "flower".

The only thing that made sense at the time was to return the favor to Bones. Nibbling on ears, kissing and sucking on his neck, caressing his nipples and all over his chocolate legs. My hands found a hot spot that was not standing at attention, so I worked that spot so I could blow his mind while avoiding the label of being a tease. The power and pleasure that I felt when Bones was breathing hard, then loudly moaning, then almost screaming made me work that much more at pleasing him.

While I returned to nibble and lick all over his ear again, Bones suddenly could speak English again. "What do you want from me?" he panted out.

Without thinking of games or his impression of me, I immediately gave him the truest and simplest answer in a breathy whisper: "You."

This seemed to take him to a new point, and it drove me even more at devising new variations of attacking Bones with my hands and mouth. It wasn't long before he was at an ecstatic point like I had been. We cuddled together, whispered a few more thoughts, and drifted to sleep. I awoke in the morning, and finally parted ways with the new skip in my heartbeat.

In the middle of the reverie in Yoga Guy's office, I had a half-second of clarity. That breathy answer of "You" might have been the tip of the iceberg that potentally did in a budding relationship. I came to that realization based on what I read in the book: "Men like mystery. You can't give away too much too soon, physically, emotionally, or otherwise." I gave him my honest heartfelt answer after a few weeks of good times together, not a mysteriously seductive answer like, "Wouldn't you like to know what I want from you?" I could hear such a cool response coming from me, and my imagination rewarded me with the possible sound of Bones going crazy over not knowing what was going on but already knowing he wanted to keep working to get to the bottom of it. My simple answer of "You" had already removed a lot of necessity to work hard because he already had me panting for him because he already knew I was ready for him. Already. Probably ahead of what someone might consider a normal timefram. Probably too fast for his age group (um...45 - 60; not 59 and a 1/2, but I'm not saying). Nowhere close to cool and composed because my heart was completely accessible to him with some effort but not all of the effort that books and real conversations with men would lead to believe that an interested man requires.

By the time I blinked out of my moment of reflection, I felt numb. I didn't hear the rest of the "meta" talk. I just heard, "Damn."

Even as I'm typing, I'm still hearing, "Damn," because I still like Bones. However, after 6 days without an acknowledgement from him, I have to allow myself to feel the pain of his absence and the silent rejection. Interestingly, I received two calls in two days from two guys (including Nutcase) I don't give a damn about, so those calls don't relieve any of the pain. It's odd feeling this much emotion for someone I was not officially involved with, but it is what it is. Damn.

So, I have to be one of those girls in the advice books that I aspire to be. Recognize the hurt, shed a tear, and keep moving. Lastly, I'm keeping the advice of my late cousin, DeWayne, in mind: If he calls, he calls. If he doesn't, don't worry about it. Just keep moving without focusing on him, worrying about him, or daring to call him. I still remember those words from the last conversation I had with him, so I'll keep those words close to me. Those words are closer than Bones' phone numbers because those have been deleted from the phone. I'm not calling.

Epiphany indeed.

He's on my mind when I open my eyes. I have to remember to thank God for waking me up again because He didn't have to wake me up, and then my mind goes back to him. Each day of the past week, I've thought of my friend, "Bones" the domino player, extensively. I got to see him three times last week, and it was delicious. I replay our conversations, cuddles, and kisses because they're all so..."cracktacular". Yes, everything I'm experiencing about my recently resurrected friend is that addictive and enjoyable for me. Anything different from what I endured with that big nosed Sam should be orgasmic.

Of course, there has to be complications. What would a "love life" be without complications? The one complication that is really messing with me is how Bones is already playing that same game that a lot of guys play, whether intentional or not. I haven't seen or heard from him since the 4th of July when we saw a beautiful fireworks display. I had some family with me, and he had family and friends in his entourage, but we managed to cuddle together on his blanket as I oohed and awwed at the specatacular. I usually act like I'm 10 when there are pyrotechnics in the sky...not the neighborhood variety, but the professional ones. We regrettably had to part ways, but we shared a nice hug. Haven't heard from him since.

Now, I find myself consumed with two books that are proving to provide glorious advice to eager and anxious women like me. The basic idea that I'm embracing is "Don't call him; let him call you." What I'm hoping is the reason my friend isn't calling is because "He doesn't want to appear weak by being to eager to call. He's hoping to maintain control in the situation." Maybe.... But does it really have to take 4 days to maintain that self-control? Two days oughta do it. Hell, the way I see it, you're never weak if you reach out to the woman who makes you smile and laugh more easily than you have in sometime. But that's my warped female's logic.

I just have to wait it out because there's no way I'm calling him based on the history with Bones (more on that later). The next time he does call, I'll have to play the game with him. He'll call; I won't act mad that he hasn't called for several days; the conversation will last 5 -10 minutes; and I'll end the conversation with, "Thanks for calling, but I've got a lot going on over here. Can we talk later?" Would he really say no? He better not. So, the call would end on my terms, and he wouldn't hear from me again for several days. If I can wait, so can he, right?

The sad thing: I honestly don't like playing "the game". If you like someone, then just put yourself out there to get to know them, get closer, and hopefully develop something real. You can exercise some self-preservation (I hate that phrase) in the beginning because it's natural to keep your guard up. But how can you set up your guard against someone when you don't take the time to talk to them or spend time with them? Frankly, my guard is not just a wall; I have a woman in uniform with her shooting hand gently poised on her gun holster just waiting for the cue. She's calm and easy-going for now because the boss doesn't want things to go immediately to being messy, but the guard is cocked and loaded if there's some mess ahead.