Excerpts from the Diary of a Diva

I want a family of my own. I want a husband who'll provide for me and have my back. Someone who wants to be with me and me alone. A person who sees me and still thinks I'm a good idea. I want someone I can dream with. Someone who won't think I'm crazy or stupid because I'm afraid of bugs. Someone who'll be willing to go on adventures with me and introduce me to new things. I want someone to love me. Is that really too much to ask? I sometimes wonder how I made it all the way to 46 with no permanent man on the horizon. Yes, I realize that's not the only thing to life, but I swear to you, it's something I want and feel like I need. I want babies, too. (Since I'm telling you what I want, I might as well put it all out there.) More than one. I want to shape human beings with my loving husband by my side. I want my life to mean something to the world. I want to leave something behind besides bills. I want to live in a great condo -- if I d...

I have never felt so small and insignificant in all my life. We have put a man in the White House who absolutely cares NOTHING about people of color. I'm not stupid enough to be believe that he's the first one. I'm not stupid enough to believe he's the only one. But until now, I never thought I'd see the day where this level of racism would be on display for the world to see. I am sickened. The last time I felt quite this bad about racism was back in 1989. I was out with my friends on a Friday night when something jumped off. The cops pulled out their rifles and made the boys lay face down on the ground. It wasn't anything that warranted that type of response, but that's what they did. I was 18 years old and it scared me to death. Now, almost 30 years later, we're seeing the same thing...but on a much larger scale. What kind of country are we living in when white supremacists are marching around unmasked? At least the KKK of old had the decency...

There are times when I think I should change the name of this blog. Today I do NOT feel like a diva. I feel like a pitiful mess of a woman who's completely in my feelings. I hate it when I get here. I was minding my business last night when Juice hit me up. (Remind me to tell you about him later.) He wanted to hang out because we'd actually said we would. But he's he's only after one thing and I wasn't inspired enough to venture out to deal with him, so I told him I was in for the evening. At the same time, New Boo asked me if I'd done my hair. Let's be clear. My hair in and of itself isn't necessarily that big a deal. However, him asking me about it could indicate that I was on his mind and that he cared about me in more than a horizontal way. That would be awesome...but I know it's not true. Even though I engaged in conversation with him -- because that's what I do -- it was painful. I am lonely. I want to be with someone who cares ab...

I hate it when New Boo reminds me of our time together. It happened tonight. We were chatting about our day and getting ready to sign off. When I said good night to him -- calling him by his name -- he called me a name we'd come up with when we were together. He's the only one who calls me that. I said, "Damn," and send a cringing emoji. He was like, "Sorry. Old joke." I said, "I'm giggling, but I hate you." He replied, "Don't. It's us." Completely slayed me. I was NOT prepared. My heart sank within me and the tears sprang to my eyes. I honestly wish he wouldn't bring stuff like that up. After all, it's HIS fault that we aren't together. If I'd had my way, we never would've broken up. I'd never know My Teddy Bear, and we would be happily together. But no. That's not where we are. And honestly, I sometimes hate him for this. If I'm really honest, it's not him I hate. It's myse...

For many years, I've used this space to try and work out my issues. I've poured out large portions of my heart on this page because I couldn't say anything to the people around me. But my latest issues have called my sanity into question, and I've decided to get some more formalized help. So...long story short, I've started seeing a therapist. I never thought I would. So far, I've had two sessions. She asked me questions in the first one, and the second one found me spilling my guts about children. I've only told a few people. I haven't shared it with the people closest to me, and I'm not really sure why. It's not like it's shameful. But it IS a new and different way of dealing with my life. I told New Boo. He's in therapy, too. Funny thing -- My Teddy Bear, who's now my ex, is seeing a therapist, too. But I haven't talked to him about it. Yet again, he's facing another crisis. The other day I was bl...

So...I told you that I'd finally given My Teddy Bear the boot... ...Or so I thought. Apparently I didn't use the right words when I gave him his walking papers. He's under the impression that we're "on a break" and that we're still together.  That is NOT the impression I wanted to give him. But what do you say when a man is sobbing? I said, "Let's just step back and heal ourselves and revisit this later." What I should've said was, "It's been fun, but I'm done, son." Now he wants to talk to me. In person. I don't want to. But if I do...I have something to say. He won't like it. What I want to say is that we've all experienced loss. The difference is that we don't wallow in it. We know how to mourn the loss and move on. We never forget, but we release the pain of it and learn to treasure the time we had with the person. What I found is that he wallows. That's why he eats the way he do...

"He was in love with you." That's what New Boo's best friend told me when I asked -- in a drunken stupor -- if he'd ever loved me. I have tried my best not to think about it, but I can't help it. I still wonder what in the world I did to make him fall out of love for me. This thought is especially poignant as I reflect on the third anniversary of our first hookup. I remember how eager I was. How hopeful I was. I didn't expect anything but a good time. As we climbed to his fourth-floor walk up, I thought we'd just kick it, I'd go home, and that would be that. What happened in that hot room that night changed my life. And here I am...questioning everything we did for the millionth time. PS -- I finally broke things off with My Teddy Bear. It was hard, but I did it. He didn't take it well, but I got everything out that I needed to. Now it's on to the next episode...or not.