Slow Down

I’ve tried to be more active in the communities I engage in—Hollywood & Burbank—because they haven’t felt like home and I want them to. 

Most of this has resulted in me actually stopping to talk to people and engage in positive conversation; I admit the hustle of city life has changed how the Southern hospitality in me is shown. Two things happened that still make me smile, 

There is a hot dog stand near my weekend job in Burbank. I started to go because I was sick of the fast food chains and wanted to support small businesses. When I started to go to the stand it was always quick and then I started to slow down. I sat down on one of the chairs in front of the stand one day and, just as I thought I should ask the cook and cashier’s names, the cashier came over to me. His words, “Hi. What is your name?”  I murmured Rashad as I swallowed a bite of the veggie dog they gave me and he replied, “I’m Lawrence and that is Kay.” Since that day I’ve visited them during each of my weekend shifts. 

One day recently, I managed to slip a bigger tip than normal into their tip can with a small note. A few weeks later I came back to see the note taped to their window. My heart smiled. 

In that same area is a Jamba Juice that I frequent. One of the younger staff members knows the three drinks I rotate through and makes jokes about it. I hear “Oh, I see we’re changing it up today” and “Already know what you want today, Jay. I got you.” She—Fabi—started to leave notes on my cup and food containers. On those rough days, those little notes have been a nice pick me up. 

I think this whole slowing down thing is working. It’s starting to make LA feel something like a home. Catch me at a Lakers game in a few weeks. 

Young Nigga Feel A Way

I’ve been talking about mental health—mine in particular—a lot these days. I’ve been through some lows and some highs in the past few months. Through all of this, I made a promise to myself to give the love I offer to others to myself. I struggle to do that for so many reasons: being a fairly empathetic person, childhood trauma that manifests in adulthood. 

I’ve always fought my way through things but lately I’ve been sitting with my feelings, allowing them to happen, and to focus on what I need in those intense moments. I started by making a promise to stop drinking and I did. I went through July and only drank one shot during a party at a friend’s house. That trend continued since then and I rarely drink anymore. It made me focus on my body, my mind; I now spend more of my time on mindfulness, waking up early to do yoga, and eating fruit as I journal in the park. 

I also made a promise to myself to say yes to myself in the same way I do to others. That led to taking a train to San Francisco to visit some friends. It was a wild trip to say the least. Here’s what I said yes to: 

  • Yes to catching up with a best friend, my gays in San Francisco. 

  • Yes to renting a car and driving around, up, and down mountains for a few mornings. 

  • Yes to buying those blue high top Vans I wanted.

  • Yes to buying a lot of strawberry cheesecake. 

  • Yes to randomly catching up with my ex-boyfriend over dinner.

  • Yes to sleeping in when I needed to. 

Then I called out of work on a day just because I could and I needed a day. Just as I walked out of my apartment to go to Santa Monica, Drake’s “Feel No Ways” came on and one line stood out to me. It was “young nigga feel a way” and a young(ish) nigga does feel a way. 

It’s been a wild ride these past few weeks but I’ve been feeling better than I have in such a long time. I’ve even started to wake up around 7 each day to do a bit of yoga, work out, and make my breakfast for the day. That’s me; I’m doing that. 

Here’s to mental health.

I leave you with a video that makes me think about how I think about things now. 

Lil’ Yeehaw Fucker    

There is one thing a lot of folks don’t know about me. You may see a cute little boy here but what you may not know is that at this time I was a I was a certified, Deep South, country lil’ fucker. I’m talking about I grew up—partially, at least—on a farm, riding around on the back of a Ford 150. I am talking about eating pickled pig feet and Coke with peanuts. I’m talking ‘bout people that talk so fast you don’t know what they hell they just said. Alladat. 

We don’t talk about country Black folks enough because I love my folks and community. Don’t get me wrong, I am still the same dude who grew up in the suburbs and now loves the inner-city life, yet my country folks. 

As I sat in my room, lavender incense burning, with a glass of wine, I turned on my speaker. Some country bangers came on and I went down a rabbit hole. Here are my favorite country songs, in no particular order: 

And, of course, Cotton Eye Joe.

Country Black folks, love you.

Gay Uncle Status

I’ve accepted the fact that I am no longer the youthful, glowing twink that I used to be. I’ve become what I call the “Gay Uncle.” Here are the qualifiers for being me being a Gay Uncle: 

  • I am both still considered young by people older than 45 and am considered ancient by the youths. 

  • In my old age, I’ve have become Fairy Gay Godfather or Guncle to many queer youths and have been adopted by a few gay elders. 

  • I prefer brunch and mimosas in some gym shorts and a t-shirt; if you get me to come out all you will get me wearing is basic booty shorts and a shirt.  

  • I have a Hinge account.

  • I think both the 25 year olds and the 45 year olds could get it.

  • I run around “yelling” at the youths to practice safe sex and healthy habits in other parts of their lives. 

  • And I have nieces and nephews, so by definition I am really someone’s gay uncle. 

I think of the roles I play in my families; both the chosen and biological families. I encourage the youths, challenge the elders, throw shade at everyone, and I love on the family. BIG. As as a younger Gay Uncle, I might give you some love by calling my siblings after a few drinks to tell the family I love them or it may calling around to family—the parents, the aunts and uncles, texting the cousins, checking on the grandparents—to make sure folks are good one day.

I was sitting in the park on my day off. To relax, you know? I stumbled into a YouTube spiral that put me into a good mood. Here’s a list of my favorites as a Gay Uncle. 

He Got Two Jobs

IMG_2597.jpeg

I’ve been at REI for a couple of years now. People often ask why I have two jobs and I usually respond with some joke about capitalism and being a millennial who loves to travel. I don’t often go into detail about why I put myself through sixty work hour weeks but let’s talk.

It’s retail and it’s an outdoor store yet it gives me so much more. It’s about experiences and two in particular stick out to me about customers. I met a woman who came to REI-San Francisco when I worked there. All she needed was clothing from Marmot. I looked around to find the one item after looking in our inventory. I struck up a conversation to pass the time and she turned out to be Silvia Vasquez -Lavado who climbed the Seven Summits. That conversation was an experience that helped me see that there is so much love in life.

And I remember meeting this Black dad with one of those baby blue North Carolina jerseys on. He came into the kid’s section with two young kids and I could see the worry all over his face. I walked over and told some joke to get him to laugh; he let out a sigh of relief as I asked him what I could help him find. He brought his family to California to get to Lake Tahoe or something and didn’t know much about cold weather clothing. I walked him through what his kids should wear sledding and hanging out around the mountains. Over the course of the conversation, I could see his worries fade away as he and his kids found what they needed. To teach young Black folks how to “get outside” makes my soul happy.

It’s about the other employees, too. We’re a bunch of tree-hugging, granola-loving people who like simple things. I couldn’t ask for better folks to roast a couple of Twinkies with.

I don’t know how to fully state it but I’ve met some amazing people and made some memories through REI. Now I have to ask you, are you a REI member?

Jarvis, My Lil' Man

I have a little brother. He’s 9 years younger than me and we’ve come a long way. I remember the jealousy I felt when he was born and I was no longer my dad’s only son and that turned into loving this little dude as he grew into the man he was. 

Lately he’s become my rock which has thrown me off but also been amazing. That 9 years difference in age made a difference in our relationship; by the time he was a bit older, I was already in college and doing my own thing. He’s also a half-brother who I only lived with for about three years when I moved back to south Georgia for high school in my dad’s hometown. I realized that we had to relearn each other as adults. 

I usually call or text him a few times a week to make sure he’s okay and see what’s new with him. This week I did the same and his response had me laughing. I texted to check on him and he asked how I was doing. I gave a vague response and this dude replied, “how’ve you been motherfucker? Don’t try to work around my question?”

I was taken back by the question and his directness. I’m the older brother, I’m supposed to be the one doing that. I responded back with more honesty and, again, this man had me laughing. When I mentioned my issues with dating lately he responded by saying “Ima get u some hoes.” 

The man—in his own way—is caring. His approach reminded me of many things including being okay with not being okay. Also, being an older sibling with such a gap in age is something; we often have to help take care of the younger siblings. He reminded me it’s okay to accept help. 

Black Art Major

One day my cousin and I were arguing about something. We’re both quick to read each other yet, with me naturally being an angel, am the one who is less likely to start any argument. This particular day his one liners stung more than other days.
He looked at me and said, “I’m not about to argue with anyone who looks like a Black art major at a PWI.” 

If you know anything about college Rashad you would know I was a mess. This man knew how that would both make me laugh hysterically and want to slash his car tires. 

It was such subtle yet direct shade. This is why I both love and hate family.

Ain't Family

One of my favorite—that’s sarcasm—thing about being Black is seeing/watching others make assumptions of what Blackness is or do things to place us into the “box” they think we should fit in. For example, I count the number of times that non-Black Uber drivers turn on rap music when I—a whole Black, queer man—enter their cars; it’s often more likely than not that someone does. I’m not always mad at it because I love a good 90’s R&B or rap hit like the next person yet I question why. I also get folks calling me “brother/brutha” or “family” at every turn. That shit is weird to me. I don’t know folks, we ain’t family. 

I only know of my experiences and identities, of course, so I can’t speak of others but do others have the same things happen to them? I am genuinely curious.

Remembering Care

I walked to a coffee shop earlier today to grab a vegan burrito and smoothie for breakfast; I had a rough start to my day and needed food as quickly as possible. When I finally got it, I sat at a table and swallowed a few of the potatoes and half of this huge pre-sliced burrito.

As I walked back to my place, I ran past a guy who’s at a bus stop most days. He’s homeless, a little older, and has this friendly light about him. Something punched me in the gut and told me to give him the rest of the food; I honestly think that punch in the gut was one of my ancestors. I looked at him, said hello, and asked if he’d eaten anything this morning. He replied no and I asked if he’d like half of a burrito and the potatoes. He kindly replied yes and I passed it over as I walked towards my apartment. 

If you live in any of the bigger California cities—any city to be honest—you know how rampant of a social issue homelessness is. It’s jarring to say the least and I can go on a rant about it being something that easily can be relieved by our governments and social support. 

I mention all this to say that I think we lose sight of humanity at times and forget to simply care. I don’t need a cookie, I don’t need a pat on the back, I don’t need much of anything besides Ryan Gosling whispering sweet nothings in my ear. I do want us to remember those small moments when we can care and do so intentionally.

San Clemente

Anyone else been feeling off lately? Appetite gone and not feeling like you want to be bothered with much of anything? The Zodiac gays—that’s the name I give the gays who love astrology and shit—told me that Mercury was in retrograde recently which could affect emotions heavily. That’s what I think they said, at least.
I knew I was feeling off when I started to watch Avengers: Endgame and I started to cry uncontrollably during the scene when Tony Stark dies. All I could think is that I wanted to go home to my family in Georgia. I wanted to hear my mother and father complaining about me coming home at all hours of the night drunk; to feel like I can’t breathe from my grandmother squeezing too hard during a hug; and to see the smile on my niece’s face as she recognizes that she’s got me in person and can empty out my wallet. I think all of the past year hit me at once. I sat there crying uncontrollably for about 30 minutes.

After I cleaned my face and grabbed some water, I knew I had to do something. I fell asleep and woke the next morning around 5 AM. I booked a hotel on the beach in a small town called San Clemente and grabbed a rental car. By 8 AM that morning I texted my supervisor. I mentioned that I would be out of the office that morning while I traveled but would log back into work after lunch. 

The drive down to San Clemente was what I needed. It was peaceful and I enjoyed it. I felt happy. It may have been from the large amounts of caffeine I had or it could have been purely the joy of singing 90’s R&B at the top of my lungs with the wind down. Be it this or that, I was happy. 

I relaxed as best I could. I went down to the local liquor store to get a few IPAs and then set out to chase the sunset. I FaceTimed my little brother and he joined me on my adventure to chase the sun. We laughed, we joked, we caught up, and I appreciated it. That short 20 minute conversation filled my soul. 

I walked back to the hotel and grabbed Korean BBQ on the way back. I had no idea how to eat it, however, and I called one of my best mates—Jorge—to help me figure it out. Long story short: I am not a fan of Koran BBQ because I’m basic. If you know me, you know my meal of choice includes French fries and BBQ sauce. After this failed attempt at being adventurous with food I settled on a local taqueria. I passed out in bed shortly after. 

The next day I woke at 6 to see the sunrise on the beach. I grabbed a hot chocolate, some doughnuts and made my way to the San Clemente State Beach. I only planned to sit on the beach for a bit yet I ended up walking a mile or so to the pier.  

That day or so in San Clemente reminded me of something: to be selfish, to center myself for a bit. I think many people give so much to others that we forget to focus on ourselves. That vacation, the conversation with my brother, it set me at peace. 

Do something for yourself. Just for you. 

Dating Los Angelians

Like many others I use dating apps. I often frequent Grindr and Tinder for, let’s call them, rendezvous or walks in the park. I recently downloaded Hinge to see what it would be like in a new city; keep in mind I’ve tried it before and was not a fan. The primary reason: I couldn't be the hoe I wanted to be as easily as I can with other apps. 

A few days passed by and I happened to match with this 6’5 cute little redheaded twink. The conversation started with me giving a standard, “Hey, what’s up?” We talked about a number of things and it was great to have easy conversation. Conversation was easy and he had this sort of wit about him that I appreciated. He also didn’t take any of my bullshit and was calling out things left and right. I appreciate a man who can handle a big personality like me and, baby, he was handling it. 

Fast forward a few weeks. and conversation about our health, I was over at his place for dinner. We had a chemistry that was nice and was attractive. We ate, drank a few beers, and somehow I ended up eating an edible. Before I knew it, he and I were walking hand in hand to the tar pits. I thought about how good of a night it was when I woke in his bed the next morning.

We’ve been hanging out and talking for a month or so. My closest friends will tell you that’s progress for me because—whew chile—I am a bit of a wild one. I have felt a range of emotions that are so abnormal. Read this: I planned a date. It was the 30th and I told him 2 days before to not cook anything for dinner. I went to Target to grab tequila, beer, and Jenga; came home to write things on the Jenga blocks; ordered every kind of taco I could from the taqueria down the street; bought slice of chocolate cake and one of the rainbow cake from Santa Monica; and went to his place. I did that. I don’t normally do that for anyone.  

So why am I telling you all this? It’s because I am stressed, I am nervous, and I am confused. I like this guy a lot because he gives me those butterflies. I don’t expect him to want to be my “man” or anything but I do like hanging out with him right now. 

I cannot describe the feelings related to anxiety this brings on, too. I have had a thousand little thoughts in my head about this outcome or that and all those random scenarios that would probably never happen but that my brain says will. 

I don’t like this. I like a little control in my life, blame it on obsessiveness brought on by childhood trauma, and this is uncontrollable. Why is this whole courting, dating, relationship thing doing this to me? 

When you’re praying to little black baby Jesus who slept in the manger, pray for me too.

Gay Neighborhood

I walked to the Trader Joe’s down the block earlier today to grab some dinner at Cactus. As I walked back I stopped at the corner of Hollywood & Vine to wait to cross street. If you know much about the area, this intersection is one of the more popular areas. 

A guy stopped me and in the sassiest of tones mumbled, “I didn’t know Hollywood was the gay neighborhood too. Did you?” I had my AirPods in, I didn’t hear what he said clearly, and I asked to make sure. He repeated it with a mischievous glare in his eyes. 

My first thought was, “Nigga what?” At this point I was only focused on my bean and cheese burrito and drinking a Cactus Cooler. My second as I laughed and went about my way was “Boy, if you don’t gone, get a mask, and sit down somewhere.”

I looked at him and said, “What the hell are you talking about?” He walked off. 

I don’t get why folks go out of the way to annoy the gays. Like, my dude, listen: I have taken a dick in my ass and lived to tell the story, I have fallen in love with a dude from Grindr and been rejected after I gave him the glurp glurp razzle dazzle 3000 action, I survived college as a gay in rural Georgia and in Tennessee. You will have to do way better than a sly comment to get to me. 

Gays be great. Curse these folks out in the daylight, sleep well at night.

Making Space for Growth

November wasn’t the easiest of months for so many reasons but December has turned around a great bit. I decided to do things a bit different this month: 

  • Removed all social media apps from my phone and only logged in to my business accounts. 

  • Started to pour more into friendships/family that I truly value. 

  • Ate more plant-based and stopped eating most processed foods. 

  • Stopped eating out as much as I can. 

  • Stopped drinking.

  • Drank more water and less sugar. 

  • Quit THC.

  • Worked out 3-5 times a week. 

  • Hiked more often.

  • Bought more plants.

The month hasn’t been easy— one night I drank IPAs and another had a few edibles—yet it’s been a good path forward. I’ve got a few more goals to set before the new year. 

I’m still looking into therapy and still trying to make a better schedule to control the stress but I haven’t felt this focused in a very long time. It’s good. 

Siblings & Brotherhood

Anyone else have siblings and recognize the love/hate you have towards them? I have 3 sisters and 1 brother. We’re a blended family which means 1 of those siblings is older and shares the same mom and dad as me; 3 of those siblings happened after my dad and mom divorced and my dad had more kids. I had a bit of a different experience because I grew up with this older sister for 14 years and lived my life as the youngest sibling. I then moved—at 15—with my dad and became the oldest child in the house and a middle child. To say I struggled is to say the least. 

I love my siblings and most folks know this. These are the folks who I’ve grown up with, who know just about all of me, and who also know how to anger/annoy me like no other. I texted my mom and sister in a group text this week; something about my sister just texting me back made me mad. She didn’t do anything but I was like, “why is she texting? I’m annoyed.” It may have been some residual stuff from childhood because we all know my sister used to pick on me as a kid. I love her;  I do. 

As we’ve grown older our relationships have changed as siblings as we’ve moved out of our parent’s homes and started to build our own lives and families. I think the most recent change has been my brother and I’s relationship. I’ve called a few more during the past year because I miss home and being around to see him grow into the man he’s meant to be; fact: I taught him how to tie his shoe when he was 3 or 4 and still cry about the story. 

Jarvis and I talked a few weeks back. Somehow we got on the topic of dating, jobs, figuring out things, and how I plan on taking him out to Savannah in a few months to get shit-faced because he’s finally 21. The kid I knew to cry every two seconds is now a man. I try to give advice to him, laugh, make a few memories with him and I’m always telling him to use a condom. My favorite phrase to say, “I don’t take care of any babies but my own. You know what that means? I buy gifts for Christmas and birthdays, I pop up sometimes, but don’t bring them to me until they can use the bathroom by themselves and talk.” 

I texted him a couple of days ago to check on him. In that brief text exchange I joked that our dad didn’t say anything about getting us money this year for Christmas and usually by early December our dad would have. This little brother of mine then talked to my Dad and said, “Shad said you ain’t asked us about Christmas money.” I know my brother said this because I called my dad a day after this and Jarvis, Sr. told me what the little junior boy said as he yelled I’m sending you money to your CashApp account right now. I also know my brother. He did that because he wanted some money and the fucker threw me into the conversation because of it. 

I guess I write all this to say love on your siblings. These bitches really do get on my nerves most days and I usually want to curse out one of mine once a week or so but they’re mine. We share a bond and I know one thing, I can curse them out all day every day but no one else can because I ride for mine. Love on yours if you have any. 

Feel free to share your favorite, funniest sibling stories in the comments or text to me; I always love them. I’ll tell you one of my favorite memories is watching my sister get drunk off of one wine cooler. Rookie. 

I Need Help

I’ve known for a while that I need to go to see someone to talk through things yet I’ve been resistant for years. More recently, I’ve felt a number of emotions I don’t normally feel. Part of my feelings come from what I’ve felt is a lack of relationships in my life feeling reciprocal and a lack of feeling valued in those relationships. I talked to a friend—Victor—about knowing that I give a lot to others and I try to do the best I can by folks but I don’t often feel that folks do that in return. To put it simply I am the kind of friend that will text folks to check on them often, who’ll make sure to remind folks to call when they get home, and who drunk calls friends because my drunken spirit wants to laugh with them. 

I also think people view me as the “strong” person. I admit that I do think I have a good bit of resilience built up naturally because of my identities and experiences. I also know that I often hide some emotions because I have to be the strong person a lot; I am an older brother, the child that parents lean on a lot at times, the one other family leans on, I’m the family member that was able to go to college and get a master’s degree, I’m the friend that folks call when they are at their lows, etc. It can be overwhelming yet I have felt that I had to minimize my feelings to support others. 

Over the past few weeks I’ve started to ignore phone calls, text, and was bitchy to a few folks because I’ve felt indifferent lately; this doesn't apply to all folks because sometimes I don’t pick up or reply because I reply in my head but I forget to actually respond. I don’t like feeling like this and so it’s time to go see someone finally.  

Back to that part about being too hesitant. It's because of this:  

  • I was socialized, in my particular environments, to believe that therapy or counseling weren’t things we did. I was taught to suck it up, to push through, and to keep quiet about most emotions.

  • It was never an option before because of access. Money and access to adequate health care can affect so much. 

  • I am scared. There’s going to be a person who is prying into my thoughts or asking me to dig  into things I don’t know if I am ready to dog into. 

However I may feel I opened up to two close friends—Jorge and Jonathan—about this and mentioned that I would look for someone once I moved to Los Angeles. I’m here and I guess it’s about that time. I’ll be in therapy or counseling by the end of the year. Someone check on me in about a month; don’t let me shy away from this. 

Grape Juice

I called a friend today—John Thomas—and we talked like we always do. I had a glass of wine and breakfast for dinner. As we talked he probably noticed the tone change in my voice that usually comes when I’m a little tipsy; it usually drops bit deeper after a few cups. He mentioned one thing after I joked about the wine I was drinking being grape juice, “you never drink grape juice unless it’s wine.” John’s right and I love that he knows me enough to know that.

Good friends. Keep them around.

Georgia, My Love

I miss home. I miss it a lot. 

I miss a random night out in Atlanta, probably to Blake’s, and going to Waffle House after. Those cheese grits and hash browns covered with the sweet tea always slap. 

I miss side-eying the white gays at the bars in Midtown. 

I miss going to a random club and hearing “Knuck If You Buck.” 

I miss being able to get in my car and drive down 285 to see a friend, or to a cousin’s apartment in the city, or to family’s places. 

I miss walking around Atlantic Station, Downtown, or somewhere else and seeing GSU friends randomly. 

I miss my mom waking me up at the crack of dawn when I visit. Is it me or are older Black folks always up when the roosters are? 

I miss my dad lecturing me about better spending habits and things I shouldn’t do. I miss laughing when I ask him, “didn’t you do that?” 

I miss looking at my siblings and cousins when they’re tripping and saying “You got me fucked up.”

I miss my grandmother walking past me while I nap on the couch in the den, her tucking me in with a blanket she finds, and making sure I have a pillow. 

I miss my grandmother saying if you’re in my house on Sunday you’re going to Sunday school and church. 

I miss day drinking at El Som in Statesboro. 

I miss the chewy cake from Harry’s in Claxton with that red drink. 

I miss my niece looking at me like “I’m about to get you sucker” and conning me out of toys, sugar, and everything else. 

I miss the humidity. 

I miss the Jamaican lady on Memorial Dr. in Stone Mountain who has the best macaroni and cheese I’ve ever tasted. 

I miss V103 and Frank Ski and Wanda in the morning.

I miss Zaxby’s, Cookout, Dairy Queen, and Publix subs. 

I miss Georgia. It has its fair share of issues, complications and things but it’s home. 

Someone send me some Georgia love. 

Young, Dumb, & Horny

I am cursed. I’m sure of this. I happen to fall for men who are complicated, emotionally unavailable, gay only during the weekends, gay after a few drinks, who date men in their youth but want to settle down with women and have kids one day, etc. I could go on for days about how this particular group of men seemed to have me in their grip.

Most recently there were two. 

Summer: A man and I hung out a lot; A kiss happened and some cuddling. After more repeatedly confusing events, he told me he was straight.

Late Summer: A straight man, without any sort of provoking, texted me, and said he was thinking about me. We exchanged some text and photos yet a week later things felt different. 

I fell for the traps. I did and it felt good to be completely honest because it felt nice to be wanted. 

Now here is the deal. Folks have labeled me as a “straight chaser” and this or that. I have several several things to say about this. 

I seem to attract these hipstery, heteroflexible white men. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because of how I engage in some spaces, maybe it’s because of where I live, or maybe it’s because they perceive this lighter skin and hazel eyes as me being a more palatable Black man. I’m also a bit of a bro. I don’t “chase” straight men. If a man makes a pass at me, however, I will respond because I am weak for a man with a cute smile who can read a map. I also assume they’re gay because of context.

I know it’s a mess and my cousin, Kendrick J., tells me all the time. Let me be stupid. I know what I’m doing. I am not entertaining a man anymore than I need. There was a video on Instagram. This lady was like, “I like this man and so I’m back with him with my stupid face on. Mind your business because some people like to be stupid in private.” Let me be great—for a weekend—with this 6’4” Bob the Builder, hipster man. I might cry about it later but I also will grab a bottle of chardonnay and be over it within 24-48 hours. One of my strengths is resilience.

We’re in 2020. There are a lot more men who are “open” to experiences than many think. I appreciate this flexibility/fluidity but also know my own boundaries. Again, I know I’m falling for a trap but Chad, Zack, Dominic, and Eduardo are fine fine.

I’ll end with a last few thoughts: 

  • Men, why are you so complicated? Straight, gay, bi, queer. All of you are complicated. 

  • I do not chase straight men.

  • I do not homewreck because I’m a gentle, Southern belle.

  • I try to live as best I can in my own truth, boundaries, and realities. 

  • I like being dumb and young sometimes. It’s fun. 

Last thoughts here. If any of you know if Chris Evans is single and ready to mingle, let me know. I do live in Hollywood now, we’re birthday pals (#June13), and I have been convinced that he was my soulmate since the sundae scene in Not Another Teen Movie. I’ll also take Machine Gun Kelly; I think we’ve established that I am a hipster and I love climbing trees. 

Rashad, What?

People asked me what I am trying to do with this blog, creating content, etc. I responded back and said I don’t know for sure. I know that I like to talk too much and I think I have some decent things to share. Maybe that’s a side effect of being a cocky, extroverted Gemini. I am not trying to be a superhero here, I am not trying to influence anyone really, and I am not trying to become the next person to come up. If this leads me to the arms of Ryan Gosling in some sweats and a t-shirt while he’s telling me “I want all of you, forever, every day” I won’t be mad though. 

This ain’t my attempt at being Captain Save-A-Hoe. 

It’s my attempt to make space and talk.