Archive for the ‘Dating’ Tag

Am I Not Good Enough? by Angenita Williams

*This is NOT a blog about being sad, or feeling unworthy. It IS a reflection.*

In the midst of my reading and studying, I usually play music or have the TV on for background noise. Sometimes, I have both. But yesterday, I decided to listen to the YouTube personality April Mason. She is an empowering woman with some really good points. I just wasn’t ready for what she had to say.

She had a letter from a young woman who explained that there was a guy she was “dating.” He was nice. He treated her well. He was fine. His sex was awesome. But he didn’t want to be in a relationship. Although he did all the things that couples do, he made it clear that a relationship was something he did not want. She was understandably confused. His actions did not match his words….definitely something I can relate to.

April went through all the usual relationship advice: why buy the cow when you get the milk for free; you allowed him to dictate the “relationship;” you must love yourself first…and so on and so forth. But then she said this:

“This may sound harsh, but you are not good enough.”

I stopped studying.

“You are good enough to hang out and go to the movies with. You are good enough to share meals with. You are good enough to have sex with. But you are not good enough to be his WOMAN. You are a placeholder for his permanent one.”

I sat up. Not good enough to be his woman?

I’ve often felt like I was never good enough. My self-esteem hasn’t been the highest. Although I was always told I was beautiful, I didn’t really believe it – I was fat. I didn’t have a nice shape and I was bigger than most guys – but I was still cute and my smile lit up a room.  I knew I was smart – my grades showed it. I was a little short on being street smart until I got to the streets and had to learn to navigate. I never quite learned how to navigate relationships with men though.

I was always good enough to converse with because I do have a nice conversation. I have a brain and I can go from goofy to intellect in a split second. I was nice to hang around because I carry an aura of comfort; of loving. I can cook a little bit, so of course I was good enough to make meals for a man. Of course I was always good enough to have sex with. I’m a nice looking, fluffy woman that’s well endowed. I take care of my kids. I’m smart. I’m funny. I’m loyal.

But I still wasn’t good enough.

 I wasn’t good enough for my father to love me enough to show me that I was indeed worthy to be treated like a human being.  I didn’t have a very high bar to compare any man to. Attention was enough I suppose. I wasn’t good enough for my ex to not marry a woman that I knew was all the way wrong for him, but yet he still came to me on plenty of nights until I stopped him. I wasn’t good enough for the guy who told me he wouldn’t hurt me, but he didn’t want a relationship…after sex. Or the one that said that no man would really want me because of my ready made family. Or the one who stopped talking to me when I took sex off the table. Or the one that sent unsolicited penis pics. Or the one who thought I would stay despite his abuse.  When I got married, I felt that finally I WAS good enough…I secured a lifelong bond with a man I was madly in love with…

But I wasn’t even good enough for my husband. No matter how loyal or loving or supportive I was, I just wasn’t good enough to keep him from the abandonment or the side chicks.

In the aftermath of all of this, I find that I am still just not good enough. I’m good enough to hang with or converse with, or even to sex…but I’m not good enough to be a man’s significant other. I’m not good enough to be the ONE.

My attributes are great. I am wonderfully flawed.  I’m beautiful. I’m sarcastic. Intelligent. I like sports. I cuss like a sailor. I am articulate. I can get moody. I can appear standoffish or disinterested.  I can discuss politics, Beyonce, Maya, and Bugs Bunny. I am lovingly loyal – I would say to a bit of a fault. I am a sweetheart when I want to be. I’m the perfect homegirl. I’m caring. I’m supportive – an awesome cheerleader. I adore my children and my grandchildren. I will go to war with the world over my children. I love my family. I work hard. I hustle harder. I strive to be the best I can be with all my flaws. 

This year marks my 40th year on this Earth. I look at the world through a lens of life experiences. I do have faith in God, something I can’t say I’ve always had. My confidence level as definitely increased by the multitudes. But, in the area of relationships and commitment, something always falls relatively short. And with all the #inboxfoolishness I get, with all the dates that are made but never completed, all the notions of just wanting sex from me and nothing more, I wonder…

Will I ever be good enough?


On Being Black in America by Angenita Williams

I know it’s been a minute…

These past few weeks have been torment for me.

I’ve sat quietly watching as news story after news story after blog after blog spills the details about another mistreatment of people of color.

I’ve been silent. Trying to figure out exactly what I want to say that hasn’t already been regurgitated through media.

And then the Charleston Nine happened. The actual thought of removing the Confederate flag happened. On my drive home, I figured out what I wanted to say – a checklist of sorts. I’m only going to list three, or this blog will be a hundred pages long.

  1. On Being a Black Woman

I am a Black Woman. That means that royalty flows through my veins. My foremothers were Queens. My foremothers were dignified women. I wear my crown straight. Slave blood runs through my veins as well as the strength of my ancestors. My shoulders sometimes struggle for carrying the world is heavy. My back is arched, my head is held high. Just like Maya said, “Phenomenal woman, that is me.” My piercing stares are full of determination and tenacity. My tresses are strong. I love me.

And it took me almost 40 years to do that.

With what society says I should look like. All my images of “real” beauty came in the form of Barbie. Brooke Shields. Susan Lucci. Farrah Fawcett. And when I got a little older, Claire Huxtable and Dianne Carroll. I was a victim of the paper bag. My blackness always questioned because my skin is a tad paler.

But I was still Black. I hated my kinky hair. I hated my name because it was so unique. It always seemed like if I was a white girl named Tina with long brown hair, and pale blue eyes, I would be so much happier. Why? Because Tina had things that looked like her. That resembled her. That were her…

And I was grown before I could truly love everything that being a Black woman is, does, and strives to do. Before I learned the true strength of where I come from – the fields of Mississippi, Tennessee, and Arkansas. Before I understood that my beauty comes from the strength I innately possess. Before I realized that beauty is truly beyond this skin I’m in.

  1. On Being a Mother of Black Children

I worry every time my children leave my sight. They are of strong mind and strong will. My son, a Black man. My daughter, a Black teen.

I am bombarded with images of unarmed children being gunned down because the officers don’t understand that they too are innocent. They have an innocence about them just like his kids do. But he is threatened by their melanin. By there sheer ability to have the nerve to WANT to do things outside the home. To DESIRE to be something other than…*insert typical Black stereotype*.

Not too long ago, a Facebook friend posted a picture of the White Charleston Nine shooter next to the picture of the fourteen-year-old Black girl with a cop’s knee in her back. The caption compared the dignified way he was captured against the violent way a CHILD was thrown to the ground. A woman who was white said the picture was misleading and that the bikini clad young lady was being aggressive. A child who had no idea what was going on and begged for her mother versus a cold-blooded killer who was afforded a bulletproof vest and a sandwich.

I responded with – she is a CHILD.

The lady responded with a long response to which she ended with “I will teach my children to treat everyone well, and I hope they teach their kids the same.”

My long response ended with “be thankful you can teach your kids that. Be thankful that you don’t have to worry about your kids not coming home – not because they are bad kids, because they are not. It’s because they are Black.”

As a mother, this is heartbreaking. And the list just keeps growing. I pray my children’s names are never on that list. I pray my nephews and nieces will never make that list. I pray my brothers, uncles, cousins and friends never make that list.

  1. On Being Black, Woman, Near 40, and Single

It truly seems like the older I get, the worse dating gets. Seriously. One would think that with age comes maturity. This isn’t so in a lot of cases. And it’s frustrating. Maybe it’s because I expect so much. Like a job. And decent conversation. And thoughtfulness. And a date or two or three. In my teens and 20’s, I accepted pretty much whatever just to be recognized by a man. Just to have one in my presence. Just to have one be there…even if it was temporary. Just to feel “love.” And I got two kids to raise pretty much alone (my loves!), a broken marriage (not truly getting what marriage entails), a few broken hearts, an ocean of tears, fears of rejection and pain, a steel fortified fortress built around my heart, and a different view on love. Dating isn’t fun – it is a tiring assortment of role specifics and game playing. I am over playing the game. And many older men that approach me want to play it.

There are way more things to speak on – finances, education, awareness, growth. I’ll save that for another time…

I’m baaaaacccckkkk

The Separation of Sex and Love by Angenita Williams


“Sex ain’t better than love. I’ve been out here in these streets and I done learned that sex ain’t better than love…” ~Trey Songz

It’s been a while since I wrote about dating. I’m still out here in the pool, swimming through all the mess that is dating. This journey is trying to say the least.

I decided to write about this for a number of reasons. The topic of sex versus love comes up a lot in a group I’m in on Facebook named Relationship Soup ( It struck a chord with me because I tried being without the sex aspect in my life in hopes of maybe finding and having a lasting relationship. See previously, in my previous dating life, I had sex to ‘hook’ or ‘keep’ a man around. Obviously, that didn’t work. I decided on a new approach. Well, that’s not working either. So, sex – to have it or not – is probably not the issue. Then again, maybe it is.

I know I had my hand in making this situation what it is. When you don’t value yourself, you seek validation from others. Much of that ‘validation’ came from sex – not love; although it was love I was seeking. And the ‘validation’ was only temporary – as in for just that moment. After that moment, it was back to the same pit of emotional hell.

See, dating is so convoluted with rules until it’s not funny. “Don’t have sex until it’s been 90 days.” “If the mood is right, go ahead and have sex.” “Don’t cook for him on the first date.” “He has to pay for everything.” “Don’t meet the kids until you know it’s gonna last.” “Let them meet the kids sooner to determine if they like them.” “Girl, you want him, go get him.” “Don’t chase, let him chase you.” “Be aggressive.” “Don’t be aggressive.” “Go with the flow.” “Make it happen.” “Don’t call him, let him call you.” “If you wanna talk to him, call him.”

In today’s world, how do you date?

Dating is not fun for me. I do not enjoy it one bit. I think it’s because I have one goal – to be in a relationship. All that other mess associated with dating I don’t want. Going out is fun, being in each other’s company is fun – but only if we are on the same page and headed in the same direction. And it usually ends up the ones I really dig, the ones I can see myself standing next to, are the ones who totally disregard me. However, the ones I run from hunt for me in the daylight with a flashlight. They tend to be completely overbearing meaning, we just met yesterday and you wake up thinking about me or constantly calling when I’ve told you that I’m busy. On that stalker stuff.

Then there are the pretenders who say “I would like to date you,” but I hear nothing from them ever again.

But that’s not what this blog is about – it’s about, quite frankly, sex.

Being out here in the dating game, there is a lot of emphasis placed on sex. As if sex and love go hand-in-hand. While it’s true that sex can be an expression of love, it does not mean you are in love, nor does it mean commitment. There are a lot of women in the world that cannot separate the physical action of having sex and the emotional act of actually being loved. Women tell themselves over and over again that having sex is harmless, that it’s all in good fun. Until it’s someone that you really like anyway. Then it’s no longer fun because it gets emotional, and once emotions are involved, there is no turning back.

One thing I’ve learned is that if someone doesn’t want a relationship, they don’t want a relationship. There is no mind changing. Doing everything a ‘girlfriend’ or ‘boyfriend’ would do only sets you up for heartbreak…in my opinion.

Before getting in a physical relationship, love should be a part of it. I’m at the point where if I don’t have a passion or a feeling towards you, I don’t want to have sex with you. Honestly, I’m afraid of being disappointed in the passionate and emotional side of what sex is supposed to be. In other words, if my mind isn’t in it, then the man will have all the pleasure. And that’s not fair to me. So to avoid all that, keep it in the jar until I’m mentally connected and emotionally vested. I’ve been disappointed enough.

Dating is a game. In every game, someone wins, someone loses. The question is – who wins in dating? The one who wins in the sex area or the one who wins in the love area?

Sex is fleeting, love is forever. And if you don’t have love, then, what do you have?


Dating Woes by Angenita Williams

…I saw…him

My heart turned cartwheels as my eyes ascended his six-five, stocky body. He turned his head just as my eyes reached his chocolate face. My gaze grabbed him.

He stood over me. The brown in his eye gave a twinkle, his teeth gave a glow. His scent captured my mind and made me a little woozy. This is…him.

He grabbed my hand and interlocked our fingers. He backed up, pulling me with him. When we got to his decided upon destination, his arms wrapped around my waist just above my ass. He pulled me close and stared upon my face.

My eyes spoke for me.

He leaned into my ear, “So what’s your name? Whatever it is, I know it’s only an extension of your beauty. I know who you…what you are. I may not know what the others call you, but I know exactly who you are to me,” his sultry voice stated. I smiled.

“It’s…Angel,” I said as I lost my way in his eyes.

“Sent to me….”

“…Yes. I was.”

…Or at least that’s how I pictured it…And trust me, that has yet to happen.

I’ve been dating for a few months. Ok, maybe a month and a half. I am totally confused by this mess. I’ve met some men online, and of the four I actually talked to, only one seems remotely interested, and respectful of my time. For example, I met a guy, nice, chocolate, and tall – just how I like them. We had coffee, I enjoyed it. He called the next day and stated he had nothing to do. I asked if it was his way of asking me out. He then says, “Well, let me make sure and I’ll call you back.” Two hours later, and just like I figured, he called to say something came up. But, he told me to call him back later that evening. This was on a Saturday. I texted him that Tuesday. No response. The way I see it, if you are not sure about your plans, don’t call to insinuate that you will make some with me.

That felt back burner to me…and if you are willing to back burner me, just where do you think you are gonna go? LOL. Maybe I made too much out of it, but I think that being a priority, or a hint of priority, should be out the gate. Am I wrong?

And then, the glorious penis shots. (YES, I’m so serious, ladies. LOL.) Why? Can someone please tell me, what about me says that I’m ready to jump in bed with anyone after one week, or after I say hello?  I shake my head and wonder has it really gotten to the point where women are that desperate for a man’s attention that she will take any piece she can have of him? How does that go for women like me who would like a gentleman who’s honest, caring, and trustworthy without sex? Or at least before sex. Dang.

Once again, I feel like this is too much to handle, so, it’s time to take down the profiles, and quit. Again. It’s just too much hassle, bull shit, and games that I have no time to play. 

I vented to a male friend of mine. Although slightly amused, he saw my frustration, and suggested I read Act Like a Lady, Think Like a Man by Steve Harvey. He said, “We really are simple creatures. The book may give you insight. Try it.”

I guess.

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