Musings in the Dark: April 2013


So You Wanna Be Wifey?

Seen here: ONE day out of MANY.

So this morning, I was talking to my bestie.  She’s got a friend that I’ll call Sharayne.  Sharayne was upset because the man she was messing around with—let’s call him Dwight—basically told her he didn’t see a future with her.  She asked him this and he gave her an honest reply.  Sharayne proceeded to cuss Dwight clean the fuck out and began crying to my bestie about how she’s ready to be married, she's been praying for a husband, and all that shit.

Y’all know how I get down.  Before I continue with this little saga, I need to provide a bit of context.  I’m a Southern woman, as is my bestie, as is Sharayne.  We all believe in God. Though what I’m about to say I truly believe crosses spiritual lines as well as geographic ones.  Southern women, especially southern sistahs, are raised a certain way.  We’re taught to cook, clean, keep house, and be great hostesses from the time we’re old enough to walk.  We’re taught things that are excellent qualities in a wife, because we’re expected to marry.  Now, not every southern woman is like this, but a great many of them are.  If you’re invited to my house, you can be sure of four things: it’s clean, it’s comfortable, there’s good food for you to eat, and I will take care of you as my guest.  I will not have anyone over to my house if those criteria aren’t met, and my southern sistahs are the same way.  It’s just the way we’re raised.


The Futility of Commitment

I haven’t done a post like this in quite some time, but it doesn’t mean that I haven’t had anything to say in regards to women and relationships.  There’s been a lot going on, and I’ve had the misfortune to be front row and center.

Relationships are hard.  Whether one is married or committed in another way, it’s damned hard, and having kids complicates matters exponentially.  Too many women I know have experienced the dissolution of their relationships within the past year, and the SO’s modus operandi appears to be the same:

“I don’t want this relationship anymore.”

“I’m tired of being married.”

“I need to go find my happiness elsewhere.”

“I’m ready to move on.”

And with each instance, the woman is devastated by the news.  For three of them, it was out of the blue, and for the fourth one…it’s been going on for a smooth eight years; he’s just been keeping her in limbo.



I’m a Predator fan.  I’ve been once since its inception; John McTiernan’s 1987 masterpiece introduced the world to a bad-ass hunting machine.  Created by brothers Jim & John Thomas, the Predator (created by the great Stan Winston and brought to life by the great Kevin Peter Hall) caught my attention in a way that hasn’t been rivaled since.  Predator is my favorite movie; I can quote it and re-enact scenes.

"If it bleeds, we can kill it."

"There's something out there hunting us, and it ain't no man."

"I ain't got time to bleed."

"What are you going to try next? Cheese?"

"This stuff will make you a goddamn sexual Tyrannosaurus."