Excerpts from the Diary of a Diva

There's something to be said about getting older. Your knees ache. You may get winded walking stairs. Your hair gets gray everywhere -- and I do mean everywhere . You start having hot flashes, and you realize that miniskirts may not be for you anymore. Still... There is a beauty in getting older. You don't wonder about certain things because you've experienced them. You look at young girls and you want to tell them not to worry, but you don't because they think you don't know what you're talking about. But you do. Because you, unlike them, have experience. I think about my friends who didn't make it this far. Camille, Toni, and Stacy won't get to know the joys of the aging process. They won't get to age out of watching sports because the players are young enough to be your sons. Don't get it twisted. I thank God for every day of 48 years. I do. But sometimes...I miss my youth. Just sometimes. 

Dear White People, There's a Starbucks in my neighborhood so I know you'll be here soon. While I'll welcome the creature comforts you'll bring -- better restaurants and grocery stores, for example -- I hope you understand that you're coming to my spot. Please don't try to change it. When you come to the 'hood, you immediately try to impose your way of life on us. The good stuff comes and the rents go up. Next thing you know, the things we love -- the noise, the hustle and bustle, the music, etc. -- are "too much" for you and you try to get rid of them. Eventually, the place we've called home is unrecognizable. Please don't do that. Is it really so hard for you to come into our neighborhoods and just be good neighbors? I don't think you try. That's why we hate to see you coming. We hate that you throw your privilege around and force us out. Can't we all just get along? I think it would be great for all of u

So...one of my "friends" -- and right now I'm using the term loosely -- introduced me to Asian soap operas. More specifically, "The Perfect Match." How did a show plunge me into the depths of despair in 22 episodes? It centers around the relationship between a girl who cooks in the Night Market and a Cordon Bleu chef. The two meet, fall in love, break up, and reunite. Of course, there are various twists and turns that make it interesting. When it was over, I was crying like they were me and New Boo. That's the reality. I was watching this fiction, wishing it was true for me. When he broke her heart, I felt the same pain I fell every time things don't go the way I want them to with New Boo. Fortunately for her, she was able to recover her love. Me? Not so much. And that's why I'm sitting here listening to sad music and trying to remember why I'm supposed to hate New Boo. Trust...I haven't forgotten the many disappointments he&#

You know what? Inasmuch as I submitted my members for New Boo's shenanigans, I can't be mad that he did what he did. He did what he always does. In the story of the boy and the snake, the snake asks the boy to take him up the mountain. The boy says, "But you'll bite me." The snake tells him, "No, I won't. I promise." When the boy gets the snake to the top of the mountain, the snake bites him. He says, "You promised me you wouldn't do that." The snake says to him, "You knew who I was when you picked me up." New Boo is -- and has always been -- a snake. I fell for him because I wanted to, but he's not a good person. I keep trying to love him back to decency, but I want too much. No matter how good I am to him, I can't love him past his nature. The moment I realize it and let it settle into my bones, the sooner I'll be able to let go of the dream...

I am an idiot. I have been played in a way that I just didn't know possible. If all had gone according to plan, I would be rendezvousing with New Boo. We made plans and I rearranged my schedule to accommodate an appointment with him. What an idiot I am. I believed him. I trusted him. I actually thought he wanted to spend some time with me. How stupid am I. Not only has he gone radio silent, I decided to call him. Found out that he's been using a Google number for me and that he has a regular iPhone number. How stupid am I. Of course I called and left messages on both phones. Why not. Even though I'd love to hear from him, I know I probably won't. He wouldn't give me that satisfaction.

What's the worse thing you can do when you're lonely? If you said, "Go to a singles event, get drunk, and tell your ex that you miss him," you'd be right. Here I was thinking I was over New Boo. Here I was thinking that I'd finally moved past the bane of my existence. Here. I. Was. Thinking that I was ready to put myself out there. As my grandmother would say, that's what I get for thinking. One of my friends suffered a breakup like the one I had with New Boo a few months ago. Because I know exactly what she's going through, I committed myself to trying to help her get past it. One thing she really wanted to do was go out and meet men. When the singles event came up, I was like, sure...I'll go with you. Mistake number one. I should give you a little backstory. New Boo and I have been low-key texting for a couple of weeks. I thought it was harmless because my heart wasn't involved. Mistake number two. Once we got there

I so want to be with someone. I want to be loved, cared for, caressed. That's what I really want. No matter how much I want to forget that, I can't. I probably don't need to forget. I need to remember what it's like to be human -- no matter how much I want to forget. I was finally able to walk away from New Boo. He made it clear that loving me wasn't a priority. Ever. And as much as I wanted to convince him that I'm a good idea and that he should want to love me, I never want to be with someone who doesn't know it for themselves. So I blocked his number and pray every day that my heart will forget him. But I'm lonely. So lonely. All I want is to be wrapped up in some man's arms. I want him to say that he loves me. I want him to tell me that he sees me. I want him to get me. But before all of that...I want to love me. I want to see me. I want to get me. All of me. I have to learn how to celebrate myself. It's a process that most people

Yesterday was New Boo's birthday. We were supposed to go out and celebrate. While there had been talk of getting a room, we had settled on going out to dinner and taking it from there. We didn't make it. He ended up with some sort of stomach ailment and didn't want to come out. It's his birthday. Why was I disappointed? Once again...I got my hopes up and believed him. Once again...he let me down. But wait...a glimmer of hope in what could've been a very dim situation... We talked for three hours. We broke down some things that had never been addressed throughout our relationship. We finally admitted that we got caught up in a wave of passion. We moved too fast and never really got to know each other.  He told me that he wants me in his life and values my friendship. This time, because he respects and cares about me, he wants to do it right and take it one step at a time. Basically capture we missed the first time around. Could this b

New Boo and I actually went out. He'd asked me, and after a few misses, we finally ended up at dinner. We ate, he paid, he walked me to work, bought me a watch off the street, and we had a conversation at my job. It took me a minute to figure out why there was a knot in my stomach and tears in my eyes. Now I get it. When I look in his eyes, I see the architect of my greatest heartache. And try though I might, I can't shake that image. But my heart is still so open to him because, in spite of all we've been through, I love him. All he'd have to do is show me that he's changed. That he's ready to love me like I need to be loved. That he's not "settling" for me because nothing else has worked out for him. I am not a consolation prize. I'm not someone you settle for. I'm freakin' awesome. I think he sees me as weak and pathetic...someone he can dangle a carrot in front of and get what he needs for the moment. Sadly, I've not d