I’ve been blessed when it comes to relationships – whether because they simply existed or because they finally ended. Every experience teaches you something.

I’ve far from mastered this thing called love. I can only tell you what I’ve learned so far.

Love….

Love… Is reciprocal. Do your best to take care of me, I will do the same for you. That means everything from respect to affection to security. Love should be based on trust, and I have to feel secure in your love for me to give you everything and more. It’s a Capricorn thing, what can I say.

Love… Is not a power struggle, and not about roles. Who’s right, who’s wrong, who runs things, who has the upper hand. Femmes vs. Studs. None of those things mean a damn thing. Being hard or playing games to prove your studhood, or trying to use the femme upper hand in a relationship is not where it’s at. When I’m weak, I need you to be my strength, and vice versa. I’m not afraid to show you that, and you shouldn’t be either.

Love… Shouldn’t be harsh. Truth means tact. Remember that. Calling your woman out her name – don’t even.

Love… Isn’t love if my heart isn’t in it. One song, R. Kelly’s “When a Woman’s Fed Up,” rings so true when it comes to a female’s heart. A woman will endure a lot when she’s in love, but there’s always a breaking point. When she hits this level, there’s nothing short of a miracle that can make her –  femme or stud – get that love back. Once the bloom is off the rose, what more can be said? That’s why you should never take her for granted.

Love… Should mean my lover is my best friend. You laugh, you share, you make love – but on a deeper level, it should be built on a foundation of genuinely liking the person you’re with. How can you share intimacy with a woman that you wouldn’t be friends with outside of the relationship? If you wouldn’t, that’s a problem.

Love… Should last longer than the honeymoon. Here’s where love gets tricky. In the beginning, two people always put their best faces forward. Flaws may surface, but we’re blinded by the admissions of love, the spontaneous gestures, and the orgasmic sex that allow us fall deeper. This passion should continue after those sweet nothings become fewer, after you see her in the same undies over and over or she knows you drool on the pillow, after bills and work play a bigger role in your day to day lives. Which leads to my next point…

Love… Is craving her. If you’ve watched Kissing Jessica Stein, one of my favorite movies, there’s a pivotal scene where Jessica and Helen are breaking up while Helen packs her stuff.

Helen: I wanna be with someone who wants me.

Jessica, crying: I want you.

Helen: I wanna be with someone who craves me.

Jessica: Well, I crave you.

Helen: I want to be with someone who wants to rip my clothes off.

I must admit, there are going to be times when the clothes-ripping isn’t necessary, but I want someone who sees the sexiness in me, along with all my other good (and bad) qualities, of course. In other words, it’s the zsa zsa zsu, what Carrie Bradshaw refers to as “that butterflies in your stomach thing that happens when you not only love the person but you gotta have them.” Theoretically, when you’re with the person you feel is truly meant for you, that feeling should be there, even if it fades over time. Lust built on love is the best feeling.

Love… Is between two people. What goes on between two women is nobody’s business. Though Twitter or Facebook statuses permit you to see what is said between a “happy” or “dramatic” couple, it only paints a diminutive picture of their relationship. What someone says about their significant other is just as important as what she doesn’t say.

Love… Means making you and me happy. While I believe in sacrifice and unconditional love, one can’t compromise her own happiness to make her significant other happy. No one wins in that situation. The things I do for you are because I love you, but also give me some fulfillment. It doesn’t mean that I have to totally change myself to be with you.

Love… Is responsibility. Taking care of another person’s heart is a huge task. Ensuring that you have a future together is also a ginormous job. Be sure the one you’re with is worth this undertaking.

Love… Should always involve humor. What is love without laughs? Boring as hell.

Christina Aguilera. Recently separated, the songbird is now free to be with anyone (or woman) she chooses. And I kinda like that she’s acquiring more “curves,” ones that were made much ado about at last Sunday’s American Music Awards.

Joss Stone. The voice alone qualifies her for this Divalicious Divas distinction, but it doesn’t hurt that she’s gorgeous, intelligent and strong-willed. Serenade me with Spoiled anytime.

I.love.Diane.Keaton. Her talent, her quirkiness, her ability to wear a tie and look good. Put her in any movie and you’re guaranteed to get me there. I’ve been digging her since The First Wives Club, and fell in love with her watching Something’s Gotta Give. Olderwomansexy.

Jane Lynch is also on my radar. I’m more attracted to The L Word version of Jane than the Sue Sylvester caricature seen on Glee.

Be my Giada De Laurentiis at Home, why don’t you?

Asshole though she is, Whitney from The Real L Word is somewhat hot to me, but she would be worth a drunken romp only.

As much as my head realizes life isn’t perfect, tell that to my heart. I don’t like to show the hurts, the flaws that come with love. Therefore this post has been in my head for while and not on this blog, an outlet I’ve been neglecting.

Lebron and I are far from perfect. In fact, there are issues we’re both know are there. We’ve been glaring at them for months. We talk, and try, and still have the best time together. The love is still there.

But in my heart, things have changed. I don’t know what will happen. And I hate to admit that, because the looming feeling of failure (Lord, I hated even to type that word) creeps in.

I remember the days of our blossoming friendship years ago, hours spent on the phone and Yahoo messenger, feeling like I’d known this person all my life. We stayed connected through other relationships, distance and time. When we were finally at the place where we could be together, it was on. I felt like I’d finally found the romance that was based on a long and loyal affection.

Now I wish we could go back to those days, when all we did was laugh endlessly. We would talk about something serious - about friends, family our feelings - and then joke, “Okay, let’s talk about rainbows and kitties now.” (You had to be there.)

We’re older though, and the best friend is now my lover. She’s still my best friend, but those rainbows and kitties can’t save us. The only thing that save us is ourselves. Coming to terms of whether we should fight or let it go.

And in the meantime, I have to figure out what’s best for me.

Worth me coming out of blogger hibernation for. Enjoy!

It’s bittersweet to be back.

In the year since my last post, I missed blogging, and the many drafts I began – then abandoned – are my proof. There would be times when I had a thought I’d want to share, and somewhere between work and home, the motivation would be lost (one of the reasons I long for an office with unrestrictive Internet usage). But I’m back, and hopefully for a long while.

The reason I say being back is bittersweet is that a lot transpired  in 2009. Family issues took some of my inspiration to write, and I felt as if my mojo had dried up.

While I lost my grandmother in August, the most significant event was the death of my father. I hurts just to put into words how this tragedy has affected me, especially since it’s still fresh. This is the first time I’ve been able to write about it, even to myself, to get those feelings down. He was sick, but we never expected him to go so soon. In the past few months, he was in and out of the hospital, and it was difficult to see the man who had always been my hero become helpless to the cancer taking over his body. To erase those negative images are the memories of him teasing me mercilessly and our long talks at the kitchen table just me and him talking about life. Even now there are times I’ll think about something funny he said (my father loved to make people laugh), or remember his smile, and the tears begin to flow. I cry as I write this now, but every day it’s been getting better – or at least that’s what I tell myself.

Thankfully, with a loving family and my girlfriend, Lebron, I do have a support system. I’ve laid in her arms and shed tear after tear, happy I have her in my corner. Was everything perfect between us in 2009? Not by any means, but we’re still together after three years. I still feel attraction, in love, and like she’s my best friend, yet I know we’re at a crossroad. Three years is a long time, and I ain’t getting any younger. (In fact, shhh, I have a birthday coming up.) As everyone keeps pointing out, to my chagrin, I’m in my 30s with no kids on the horizon; and as I always say, I’m not married yet. I’m not in a rush, because things happen when they’re supposed to.

Last year also proved that my daily grind of a job is makes me wish I was doing something that truly made me happy, as well as paid the bills. The thing that makes me happy: reviewing books. That’s why I run Sistahs on the Shelf. I’m embarking on another adventure in reviewing, and hoping to have it up and running by summer. I’ll post more about it later.

Because I’m back. Sadder, wiser, but full of hope for 2010.

Luckily, or should I say because of a higher power, I made it out an accident scratch-free that most people, including the officer that found me in my car upside down, said I shouldn’t have survived.

I won’t rehash the details, considering it’s still vivid in my mind, but I will say a prayer tonight that I’m still here. It set off a year that wasn’t my best, I can admit. From that accident, I had a lot of financial setbacks, including having to buy a car after living years without car payments. Because of it,  I realized that I needed to get my money situation in order.

The accident also reemphasized the importance of family. The night of the accident, I was riding in my car alone, following behind my parents in one car, and my sister’s family in another. Our three cars were headed to a family restaurant, and I remember being upset that no one took into consideration my feelings about riding with them. I had a small twinge of feeling left out, and everything was put into perspective after that night.

I say all this to say that this is a new year, 2009 to be exact. I want to leave all the baggage of 2008 behind me. There are some things I need to do and things I want to try, cause you only live once. I don’t really have any resolutions, per se. I just have this urge to be more involved in my community, and focus on something besides myself, you know.

It all began when I saw Milk a week and a half ago. (The movie was wonderful; you must see it). The film about the first openly gay man to be elected to public office inspired me. It will show you we need people who will stand up for us – and that things really haven’t changed that much when it comes to gay rights. Here we are in the same situation we were 20 years ago, when Proposition 6 was introduced to fire any gay teacher or their supporters in 1978 . Except Prop. 6 was defeated, whereas last year’s Prop. 8 won. Harvey was just getting started politically when he was brutally assassinated. It’s no telling what he could have accomplished.

The other thing I’ve toyed with is writing erotica. It’s been on my mind for a minute. I have a vivid imagination, and I should be putting this stuff down on paper. I hope to have a few pieces published this year, at least that’s my goal. I’ve been reading everything I can get my hands on to give me a little inspiration. Maybe Lebron can give me a little motivation, as well

Oh, I want to lose weight. Just though I’d throw that in for good measure.

I see many good things occurring this year. And I want to be the one to make it happen.

The effort was worth it, as the co-worker had over 35 years with my company and was highly respected. When I first began working there, he was my first supervisor, and I will have very fond memories of him. The party went swimmingly, if do say so myself, and everyone had a good time.

Thirty-five years is a long time to be with one company. Hell, nowadays when I tell folks I’ve been there 8 years myself, they’re pleasantly amazed. When I began, I had no idea how long I would be there or how much of an impact it would have on my life. I applied for the job only a month or so after graduating college, with the impression that it would be a part-time gig while I attended graduate school. It was when I arrived for the interview I was quickly informed that this was a full-time, 40-hour position.

In my naivety, I prayed over the next couple of days not to get it. I hoped the phone wouldn’t ring, cause honestly, I was enjoying my freedom of being a undergrad, not having to wake up before 10 a.m., rolling out of bed, going to class and hanging out with my friends. Working an 8 to 5 was not in my vocabulary – or in my blood. The jobs I did have when I was in college were just enough to pay my eating out and miscellaneous items, nothing too major.

When the phone rang about weeks later, I knew I had gotten it. And because I needed the experience and could use the money to support my after-hour activities, I took it.

The job wasn’t all that strenuous. In fact, there were days I could finish a book or surf the Internet to my heart’s content (boy, how times have changed). The work was cyclic, meaning certain times of the month meant more work. There were days I was really busy, and some days where I didn’t have thing to do. At first, I didn’t like the repetitiveness of it. There were a couple days I shed a tear in the restroom thinking, I can’t stand this. But I knew there was a reason I was there.

Being one of the first of my friends to have a regular, full-time job (most of us delayed the inevitable) was the catalyst to my growing up. I learned, and still am, about people, the responsibility and having to support myself. I can honestly say the job I never wanted was the job I was meant to have. Since then, I’ve gotten a few promotions and proved how much I could accomplish.

Reading Alix’s post about Sweet Hill made me think of time when I pondered becoming a housewife, being taken care of by some stud and birthing babies. Now, I can’t even imagine. I would have been bored out of my mind.

Working everyday taught me that.

I’ve been enjoying myself since Thanksgivingdinner. I was lucky enough to have two dinners to attend, one with my family and one with Lebron’s family. I dined on enough turkey, dressing and mac and cheese to choke a horse, and have a little laughter with Lebron’s mom and relatives, who always manage kill me with their homespun wisdom. It’s always great to be with people who keep it real and believe in the simple things in life.

Other than that, I did manage to attend a couple of Black Friday sales, first at Office Depot, then at Best Buy (a hot mess!). Since I got there two hours after the doors open, of course I was left with nothing. I was attempting to buy a laptop, and with sales of $349, that seemed right up my alley. Instead I was told that I needed to be there at 4 in the morning to get those sacred deals. Needless to say, my shopping visit was in vain. I probably won’t look again until after Christmas, when things might be a little less hectic and a little more financial friendly for my wallet.

Christmasthis year, shopping wise, plans to be short and sweet. I’m only buying gifts for my parents, three-year-old nephew, and two teen nieces. Other grown folks can fend for themselves. I went shopping with my brother last weekend, him in search of a bicycle and a cell phone for his daughters. We went to three Wal-marts in the city. Talk about tired.

It still hasn’t made me get in the Christmas spirit yet. Considering I’m a last-minute, procrastinating shopper, it’ll probably be the day before Christmas eve before I even finish what’s on my list.

Is it beginning to look a lot like Christmas where you are?

I’ve dated a couple of these women, ones who grew up rough around the edges but could hold a sistah down.

One such stud, “Redd,” was my first thug-stud. Really, she was my first everything: first lover, first real adult relationship. I shouldn’t say Redd was a bad boy, just that her growing up was far from a white-picket fence existence, and it hardened her attitude to the world. Redd was always in survival-mode from being ejected from her home as a teen for being gay, so she had that street-smart swagger that made her seem dangerous almost. When one of my friends first told me about her (as a set-up), I asked what Redd looked like.

Her words I would never forget: “Well, she looks like the kind of woman no one would mess with.”

And she did. With her muscled arms and stocky body, Redd gave off that “don’t fuck with me” vibe. That was until you got to know her, because then she would do anything for you. Especially me. With me, she could let her guard down and open up about the things she had been through. Redd was my my protector, I felt safe. Where I was more book smart, Redd was head smart, and it made for a great combination – at least until it ended. (That’s another story for another day).

The second and last bad boy was a stud I’d label “Nate Dogg.” Nate was a woman I met online, when I was going through a dating dry spell. Exchanging short emails, we got a good vibe going on the phone, talking about life and our past relationships. Although we hit it off, we were opposites in our backgrounds. Nate was a smoker, with hardly much education, and later I discovered, a convicted felon. A dark-skinned homegirl with blonde (yes, blonde) close-cropped hair, she wasn’t what I thought once we met, appearance-wise. But nonetheless we hung out frequently, not doing too much other than chillin’ at her apartment. She worked from paycheck to paycheck and her resources were tight since she had recently relocated to my town.

While there were a few spaghetti dinners here, and a few nightcaps there, we never really defined what we were doing. We weren’t exclusive, as I could tell by the inconspicuous phone calls she got. And, truth be told, I wasn’t even sure if I wanted a relationship with her. The felon thing freaked me out at first (although once she explained, it didn’t seemso bad; a white-collar crime). But the way she looked in her wifebeater and low-riding jeans with just a peak at what was underneath her boxers had me all flustered.

It was no-strings fun. Then after a while, it kind of fizzled out. The calls and text messages slowed down. She had told me she was planning to move again, and I just figured she followed through on her move. It was confirmed when she texted me one day.

“Deepdiva, this Nate. I’ moving to Georgia today. Ive transferred my job.”

We lost touch after this point. Then a month or so later, Nate called me, and explained the real reason she left. Apparently, Nate had been cultivating a relationship with another woman while seeing me. She moved in with this new chick and her houseful of kids. However, Nate’s bad boy persona had met her match when things went horribly wrong after a month - the girl pulled out a butcher knife on Nate during an argument, chasing and threatening to kill her. She was then forced to relocate again (her third city in six months), and now that that drama was out of her life, she was blowing up my phone. Nate wanted me to visit her. I declined.

By then, I had gotten those bad boys out of my system, and was looking forward to a new relationship with my soft-stud Lebron. I didn’t have time to go backward. I haven’t looked back since.