If there’s a cure for this, I don’t want it. If there’s a remedy, I’ll run from it.
With so much craziness happening in this country this weekend, I took long breaks from social media over the weekend and indulged in self-care in the form of multiple orgasms. It was glorious.
I’m usually plugged in and connected all the time, but I found myself disconnecting a lot this weekend, locked in my apartment with a lover who was working here for the weekend and therefore got to bypass my usual ‘no overnights’ rule because when I see him, it’s always special, and we like to make it last.
And then, the morning after he leaves, I wake up feeling like this — blissful and ready to tackle whatever the day throws at me.
And even though I think I’m full and I’ve gotten all I can take, love in the form of an almost 3-hour phone call from someone else shows up, and pushes me further into the “Bitch, you on now!” mood.
Cause I am on. I looked at myself in the mirror this morning and said, “Fuck that; I’m on.”
That Twitter thread led to me writing a piece on The Root sharing my own experiences.
Insecure regularly reminds me of the lessons I am thankful to have learned in my late 20s and early 30s about relationships, sexuality and owning my womanhood. As the second season gets off to a hard and fast start, I am reminded that I have been Issa, I have been Tasha and I have fucked my fair share of Lawrences over the years.
One of the most respected and prolific scholars on the subject of love, Yale psychology and education professor Robert J. Sternberg, has acknowledged that no single definition describes love throughout the ages or across cultures. Although philosophers, theologians, and poets have investigated the nature of love for centuries, love research as a scientific field is relatively new in the wider array of disciplines that now investigate love — social and behavioral psychology, sociology, cultural anthropology, human communication, women’s studies, men’s studies, family studies, evolutionary biology, and mass communication. For these experts as well as for the general public, love means different things to different people at different historical periods and in different cultures.
A great many things happened to me in 2013. Some good. Some not so good. Some awful. I wouldn’t change any part of this journey, because it has led me to this very moment. I dealt with the bad; I want to celebrate the good.
Pumpkin and his mommy on Christmas Day, 2013
The arrival of my newest nephew, Pumpkin, is one of the great highlights of my year. I love this little old man so very much. From the top of his soft little head, all the way across that smoochable face with the chubby jowls and multiple chins; his baby fingers and his fat little feet. He is perfection personified, and I couldn’t be happier to have him call me Titi (when he finally talks).
2013 brought a few new people into my life, like the beautiful Kristina, pictured above. I am so thankful for her.
My first freelance assignment was front page, above the fold.
I spent quality time with people I love to have fun with.
We laughed and smiled a lot.
Sometimes we were downright silly.
My mom and dad did a lot to remind me that I am loved and valued and have a purpose. I am so grateful for that.
My brother is still my little brother in all the important ways, and that is cool with me.
There are many things, feelings, people, habits and thoughts that I will leave behind in 2013, but what I carry forward into 2014 starts on a foundation of love and understanding
Happy New Year to all of you.
monique aka the journalista
writer. journal·ist. womanist. big hair enthusiast. sex positive. body positive.