<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8312246361182687233</id><updated>2011-07-08T11:51:06.634-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Always Under Construction.</title><subtitle type='html'>Seek and you shall find.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://miss-right-now.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8312246361182687233/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://miss-right-now.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Her.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10270140749502468082</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k03vFGXoCF0/Sag5SlFyeRI/AAAAAAAAACg/RwNo6jrwYAc/S220/mys.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>10</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8312246361182687233.post-5638292169437400486</id><published>2009-11-09T15:35:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-20T13:42:42.937-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Is it really better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all?</title><content type='html'>I'm an Aquarius. By nature we're characterized as being somewhat emotionally detached or &lt;i&gt;unavailable&lt;/i&gt;. Now, I'm not one to read into these things too carefully however I'd be hard pressed to deny the validity of this 'assessment'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I never cared. I mean, not because I didn't want to, I just didn't. I'd talk to different men and get uninterested almost instantly. There'd been times where I would give them my number and regret it moments after. They never held my attention long enough for me to give a damn if they ever called back. I always told myself that&lt;br /&gt;getting emotionally attached or invested in someone was counterproductive, hell even foolish. It didn't make a difference though. I still hadn't found anyone worth my time or energy... until I met him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; We met through work. He'd just graduated college and was looking for a summer job until he found something else more suited to his major. The first time I saw him I wasn't impressed. He was kinda short and kinda skinny. His hair was unkept and his clothes were about 2 sizes too big. Being one to make a first good impression despite the circumstances I introduced myself and welcomed him aboard the team. Little did I know how much of an impact he'd have on my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; He'd been working at the company for about 2 weeks and I'd gotten to know him somewhat through lunch breaks or business trips/ travelling we were required to do for our positions. I wouldn't say that I caught feeling for him during that time but my opinion of him started to waiver. I overlooked physical attributes I would have&lt;br /&gt;previously deemed less than desirable in my eyes and I became attracted to him. I vaguely recall the first night we had sex (we both had a few drinks before arriving at our destination). It was the first night he came over to my house. He was deathly nervous. I made the first move and I can still remember him shaking as he slid inside me. I never came. He left. The next day at work wasn't hardly as awkward as I thought it'd be. Long story short, our affection for each other grew and shortly thereafter we started seeing each other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I thought the sex would get better and after awhile it did. It was never great but I could live with that. If it was just about the sex I wouldn't have stayed. It became so much more and quickly blossomed into a passionate, comforting relationship. He made me feel like I've never felt before. I was walking different, talking different... even thinking different. Nothing was ever the same and every moment I was without him I was thinking of him. I'd never cared so deeply and profoundly for another person before. I found myself doing and saying things I never thought I would. I was overwhelmed and confused. I hated not having control over my emotions and I hated feeling dependent on someone else for my happiness... yet... I continued to let down my guards until there were none left. Feeling vulnerable was not something I was accustomed to or comfortable with at all. Ultimately my insecurities&lt;br /&gt;lead to my infidelity. The last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt someone I cared for... but I had been unsuccessful in that pursuit. It was hard for a while. It was hard to regain the trust he had lost in me but I loved him even more for forgiving me. I truly was sorry for the pain I had caused. We were able to rebuild and strengthen our relationship and I can say without a doubt I had never been happier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; For now I will spare you with the details of the affair and the demise of the relationship. My heart hurts too much right now to recount memories that are still freshly ingrained into my mind so I will leave you with this...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Is it easier to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all? In time I believe it is but right now I will hold my tongue until it is easier to speak. Everything we experience teaches us something and if we listen, &lt;i&gt;really&lt;/i&gt; listen we will learn from it. Some lessons are more difficult than others and the challenge that some may bring only make it easier to face more in the future. In time I will be okay and my heart will heal. It has to...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8312246361182687233-5638292169437400486?l=miss-right-now.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://miss-right-now.blogspot.com/feeds/5638292169437400486/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://miss-right-now.blogspot.com/2009/11/is-it-really-better-to-have-loved-and.html#comment-form' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8312246361182687233/posts/default/5638292169437400486'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8312246361182687233/posts/default/5638292169437400486'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://miss-right-now.blogspot.com/2009/11/is-it-really-better-to-have-loved-and.html' title='Is it really better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all?'/><author><name>Her.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10270140749502468082</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k03vFGXoCF0/Sag5SlFyeRI/AAAAAAAAACg/RwNo6jrwYAc/S220/mys.JPG'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8312246361182687233.post-4829927699109942000</id><published>2009-04-05T18:16:00.012-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-05T19:20:42.500-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Sex With The Ex Vs. Sex With The Next</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k03vFGXoCF0/Sdk8enLYZeI/AAAAAAAAAFI/CRbLCN_89Os/s1600-h/exes-703572.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 197px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k03vFGXoCF0/Sdk8enLYZeI/AAAAAAAAAFI/CRbLCN_89Os/s320/exes-703572.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321350931325412834" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:x-large;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:x-large;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;T&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;he right time in which you decide to sexually and emotionally transition between your ex and your next can be difficult to distinguish. I mean, let's be real here folks; after you dead the situation with your former lady/man you're more than liable to still be hittin' them off on the regular regardless, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;right?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; Especially if the sex &lt;/span&gt;&lt;s&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;was&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/s&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; is &lt;/span&gt;&lt;s&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;good&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/s&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;s&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;mind blowing&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/s&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; great. Other than your relationship meeting it's demise due to conflicts of interest you could very well have no issues being intimate with each other so what's the harm in getting satisfied while you remain single?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; The question is... when is it acceptable to still be having sex with your ex while actively &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;dating&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;? Of course &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;dating &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;is subjective depending on who you're talking to but for the sake of argument let's assume you haven't engaged in sexual relations with anyone you're casually &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;seeing&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; or &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;talking to&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Here's The Scenario...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;You've been broken up with your ex for a few months and you've been dating other people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;You have yet to make a commitment but you've established a mutual interest with someone in particular.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;You haven't had sex with this person as of yet but you wouldn't mind exploring or entertaining the possibility of doing so at a later date.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;You feel that if you give up the goods too early your new prospect will classify you as a jumpoff when in reality you would rather establish a relationship and avoid judgement (yes, this logic is flawed but this is real talk).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;You're not adament to add to your bodycount so the only way you'd be willing to take the L is to be involved with this person in more than just a sexual aspect. (Female logic: I'm not a ho because technically we were dating at the time.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;In this situation is it wrong to hold out on giving up the pussy/dick to your new prospect while still fucking your ex? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=" font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=" font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;For the fellas: If a female is not giving up the box and you continue to slide off with other... ahem... lady friends, is it as bad as a female who chooses to do the same thing?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8312246361182687233-4829927699109942000?l=miss-right-now.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://miss-right-now.blogspot.com/feeds/4829927699109942000/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://miss-right-now.blogspot.com/2009/04/sex-with-ex-vs-sex-with-next.html#comment-form' title='15 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8312246361182687233/posts/default/4829927699109942000'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8312246361182687233/posts/default/4829927699109942000'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://miss-right-now.blogspot.com/2009/04/sex-with-ex-vs-sex-with-next.html' title='Sex With The Ex Vs. Sex With The Next'/><author><name>Her.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10270140749502468082</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k03vFGXoCF0/Sag5SlFyeRI/AAAAAAAAACg/RwNo6jrwYAc/S220/mys.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k03vFGXoCF0/Sdk8enLYZeI/AAAAAAAAAFI/CRbLCN_89Os/s72-c/exes-703572.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>15</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8312246361182687233.post-4711043538261213972</id><published>2009-03-23T20:42:00.015-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-23T21:40:49.673-04:00</updated><title type='text'>"He's Mine; You May Have Had Him Once, But I Got Him All The Time"</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k03vFGXoCF0/ScgxJtGc6PI/AAAAAAAAAFA/HhvhRM-6Lmw/s1600-h/signs-he-is-cheating-on-you11.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 210px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k03vFGXoCF0/ScgxJtGc6PI/AAAAAAAAAFA/HhvhRM-6Lmw/s320/signs-he-is-cheating-on-you11.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316553402906110194" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:x-large;"&gt; H&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;ave we lowered our standards and expectations for the sake of financial security or our seemingly fleeting independence? Is it normal or inevitable for a man to cheat and for us to accept the notion that &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;'boys will be boys'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;? In a relationship there's always someone who is feeling the situation more than the other. Whether it be their hesitation or unwillingness to settle down and make a commitment or... well, they're just not that into you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:13px;"&gt; This isn't a new phenomenon, nor is it a revelation because &lt;s&gt;women&lt;/s&gt; people have been lowering their standards or compromising core principles and ideals for the sake of not being or feeling alone in this world.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:13px;"&gt; I'll be the first to say that nothing surprises me anymore.  Anyone is capable of doing virtually anything granted they are motivated by selfish aspirations or motives. It might be a defense mechanism on my behalf but I prefer being cautious over being vulnerable and naive. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;In Conclusion...&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"&gt; Do we no longer care about faithfulness in a relationship as long as we are treated generally well?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8312246361182687233-4711043538261213972?l=miss-right-now.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://miss-right-now.blogspot.com/feeds/4711043538261213972/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://miss-right-now.blogspot.com/2009/03/hes-mine-you-may-have-had-him-once-but.html#comment-form' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8312246361182687233/posts/default/4711043538261213972'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8312246361182687233/posts/default/4711043538261213972'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://miss-right-now.blogspot.com/2009/03/hes-mine-you-may-have-had-him-once-but.html' title='&lt;i&gt;&quot;He&apos;s Mine; You May Have Had Him Once, But I Got Him All The Time&quot;&lt;/i&gt;'/><author><name>Her.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10270140749502468082</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k03vFGXoCF0/Sag5SlFyeRI/AAAAAAAAACg/RwNo6jrwYAc/S220/mys.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k03vFGXoCF0/ScgxJtGc6PI/AAAAAAAAAFA/HhvhRM-6Lmw/s72-c/signs-he-is-cheating-on-you11.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8312246361182687233.post-5489616939463845346</id><published>2009-03-17T20:52:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-17T21:02:52.809-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:x-large;"&gt; &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;N&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;ot too much today, I was planning on updating with a continuation of my last post but it's still playing out... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;These are from yesterday...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:48px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:13px;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k03vFGXoCF0/ScBHFONOZzI/AAAAAAAAAEw/HAsh7mlMnNk/s320/as.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 251px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314325715335669554" /&gt;&lt;img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k03vFGXoCF0/ScBHFTVnXbI/AAAAAAAAAE4/-Uy4DCq7pG8/s320/0317090035.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314325716713037234" /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8312246361182687233-5489616939463845346?l=miss-right-now.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://miss-right-now.blogspot.com/feeds/5489616939463845346/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://miss-right-now.blogspot.com/2009/03/n-ot-too-much-today-i-was-planning-on.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8312246361182687233/posts/default/5489616939463845346'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8312246361182687233/posts/default/5489616939463845346'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://miss-right-now.blogspot.com/2009/03/n-ot-too-much-today-i-was-planning-on.html' title=''/><author><name>Her.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10270140749502468082</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k03vFGXoCF0/Sag5SlFyeRI/AAAAAAAAACg/RwNo6jrwYAc/S220/mys.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k03vFGXoCF0/ScBHFONOZzI/AAAAAAAAAEw/HAsh7mlMnNk/s72-c/as.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8312246361182687233.post-1640370429877023178</id><published>2009-03-09T03:02:00.032-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-10T03:13:51.038-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Live Fancy</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:x-large;"&gt; &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; turned the key to lock the door and tossed them in my bag. I walked down the hall towards the elevator and caught a quick glance in the full size mirror adjacent to doors and made sure I made a good first impression. &lt;i&gt;Six inch heels on, check. Lipstick, check. &lt;s&gt;Rain coat, check.&lt;/s&gt;&lt;/i&gt; As soon as I stepped out into the lobby I could see the white range parked outside waiting for me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; The rain started to fall creating what looked like frequency static in the headlights of the truck. I hurriedly opened the door to avoid the downpour and slid onto the tan leather seats.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;He licks his lips and turns down the system.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; "Damn girl, you really &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;tryna&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; shut shit down huh?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; "You &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;awwready&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; know what it is. Like a Spike Lee joint, I do the thing right." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;(Yes, I'm that corny in person but I make it sound sexy.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Yeah, I was not &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;playin&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;' that night. Heels were serious. Fit was crazy tight and shorty was lookin' crazy right. I don't know why I'm going into so much detail though...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; We hit up &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;habibi's&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;, get a few &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;phillies&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; and proceed to head back to the crib. Duke has a very nice set up in the burbs just east of the city and where I stay. Cars lined the street; all his. We pull up next to the caddy and walk up to the front door. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; Once inside I slip off my shoes and instantly lose a few inches. Standing at almost 5'7 barefoot, I'm ushered into the living room. Upon entering my eyes are immediately drawn to the coffee table adorned with &lt;s&gt;&lt;/s&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;s&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Benjamins&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/s&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Bordens&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; (C-Notes). He must have had &lt;i&gt;at least&lt;/i&gt; 50 stacks &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;coolin&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;' between the TV Guide and the daily newspaper. He tells me to make myself comfortable while he goes to check something in the other room. On some &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;m&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;i &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;casa&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; es &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;su&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;casa&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;type shit&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; white-space: pre; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate; white-space: normal; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 0px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; For someone to trust you in a room full of paper like that... it's just... wow. He's lucky I'm not an opportunistic hood booger with a false sense of entitlement trying to eat off of someone e&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;lse's&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; plate. We sit down, smoke a few blunts, watch some &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;EPK's&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; dude put together as well as a few Cam interviews he hadn't seen. We discuss the business and future endeavors. Conversation flows nicely throughout the evening.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; I must have lost track of time because 2am came and left fairly quickly. I had errands to run the following morning so I let him know we needed to roll. The ride home we bumped a few tracks from artists on his label, and one in particular he'd written, produced and performed himself. He's trying to push it within the next few weeks and I'm helping him with the promotion concepts. About 2 blocks from my complex he looks over at me and turns the volume down on the stereo. He clears his throat and shit starts to get real ya'll...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; "You know, I like you... and I want you to ride with me. I want you to stop fucking with other &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;niggas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; if we're going to do this though. I don't wanna waste my time. I'm gonna take care of you. I'm at a place in my life where I'm on the verge of doing big things and making shit happen. Things are only going to get better from here and I want to take you with me."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; Damn.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;To Be Continued...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8312246361182687233-1640370429877023178?l=miss-right-now.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://miss-right-now.blogspot.com/feeds/1640370429877023178/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://miss-right-now.blogspot.com/2009/03/live-fancy.html#comment-form' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8312246361182687233/posts/default/1640370429877023178'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8312246361182687233/posts/default/1640370429877023178'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://miss-right-now.blogspot.com/2009/03/live-fancy.html' title='Live Fancy'/><author><name>Her.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10270140749502468082</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k03vFGXoCF0/Sag5SlFyeRI/AAAAAAAAACg/RwNo6jrwYAc/S220/mys.JPG'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8312246361182687233.post-4013469486442600730</id><published>2009-03-01T22:48:00.017-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-02T03:56:10.340-05:00</updated><title type='text'>"I'm Not Touching Your Dick." (+ Random Flicks)</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; S&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;o it's a rather uneventful Sunday afternoon and after running errands all morning I decided to hit up my boy boy to see if anything was &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;poppin&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;' that evening. He tells me that ain't shit really &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;goin&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;' down but I was more than welcome to stop by his &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;homie's&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; crib to run some Madden (&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;that is &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;not&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; a double &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;entendre&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;btw&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;), &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;drink a little liquor, maybe twist a L... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Anyways, I oblige because ain't &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;nothin&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;' better than getting my swerve on with some &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Wray&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; And Nephew on the Lord's Day.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; I pull up to the spot and walk around to the back door like I was instructed (dude lives in a basement-apartment type situation). There's 4 or 5 heads congregating around a 27" TV complete with antenna and tin foil (I shit you not). Dudes is sitting on milk crates and empty plaster tubs turned upside down and I could literally smell week old tuna from the kitchenette situated about 25 feet away on the back wall. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Shit's&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; disgusting. How anybody can make a conscious choice to live in &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;squalor&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; is beyond my comprehension. At this point I'm extra hesitant to sit down but I find a spot on the couch that appears to be somewhat clean (&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;smh&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; @ me for wearing white pants though).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; After the liquor starts flowing I become more comfortable with my surroundings and start to loosen up and have a good time. My dude, who appears to be intoxicated comes over and sits extremely close to me for no reason. I let it rock because I figure he isn't in the right frame of mind and he isn't crossing any lines. After a while he starts rubbing on my thigh. I expressed to him that that shit made me wild uncomfortable so he stopped. About 5 minutes later he says he's cold and drapes his coat over himself and looks like he's about to knock out. Keep in mind I've never done anything sexual with dude (nor do I plan to start) and his advances came out of left field. I've drank with him before too and this has also never happened.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; We order a pizza and dude is still out cold beside me. Half way through my second slice I look over to check if he's still breathing and he's smiling at me like a jackass. I asked him if he was alright to which he replies &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;"Touch it" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;and motions for my eyes to follow into his lap underneath his jacket where his dick was hanging out of his boxer shorts (I was &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;not&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; impressed &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;btw&lt;/span&gt;). What. The. Fuck. First of all... why are you whipping &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;it&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; out in a room with other dudes sitting in a very close proximity to you? That shit is wild homo. Secondly... what the fuck!?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;I need to re-evaluate my &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;platonic&lt;/span&gt; friend situation.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;My question is... what is the success rate for this method? Does it really work for &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;ya'll&lt;/span&gt;? Seriously...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Random pictures I took today...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k03vFGXoCF0/SatdVc7fCkI/AAAAAAAAAEg/SDsp-RF6PXw/s1600-h/0223091640.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k03vFGXoCF0/SatdVc7fCkI/AAAAAAAAAEg/SDsp-RF6PXw/s320/0223091640.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308439208910588482" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k03vFGXoCF0/SatdVTgsQhI/AAAAAAAAAEY/1mWfTweKpec/s1600-h/0223091643.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k03vFGXoCF0/SatdVTgsQhI/AAAAAAAAAEY/1mWfTweKpec/s320/0223091643.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308439206382289426" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k03vFGXoCF0/SatdVEisRTI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/_Uj1AHse26o/s1600-h/0223091641.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k03vFGXoCF0/SatdVEisRTI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/_Uj1AHse26o/s320/0223091641.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308439202364146994" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k03vFGXoCF0/SatdVPD9xYI/AAAAAAAAAEI/krcSNYfIqio/s1600-h/0223091642.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k03vFGXoCF0/SatdVPD9xYI/AAAAAAAAAEI/krcSNYfIqio/s320/0223091642.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308439205188060546" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8312246361182687233-4013469486442600730?l=miss-right-now.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://miss-right-now.blogspot.com/feeds/4013469486442600730/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://miss-right-now.blogspot.com/2009/03/pics-for-no-particular-reason.html#comment-form' title='13 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8312246361182687233/posts/default/4013469486442600730'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8312246361182687233/posts/default/4013469486442600730'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://miss-right-now.blogspot.com/2009/03/pics-for-no-particular-reason.html' title='&lt;i&gt;&quot;I&apos;m Not Touching Your Dick.&quot;&lt;/i&gt; (+ Random Flicks)'/><author><name>Her.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10270140749502468082</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k03vFGXoCF0/Sag5SlFyeRI/AAAAAAAAACg/RwNo6jrwYAc/S220/mys.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k03vFGXoCF0/SatdVc7fCkI/AAAAAAAAAEg/SDsp-RF6PXw/s72-c/0223091640.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>13</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8312246361182687233.post-7888038631119365399</id><published>2009-03-01T00:38:00.018-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-01T02:16:49.000-05:00</updated><title type='text'>"Now I Ain't Sayin' She A Gold Digger..."</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k03vFGXoCF0/SaogAgUxnVI/AAAAAAAAADA/y4_q6uj2Y98/s1600-h/goldigg.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k03vFGXoCF0/SaogAgUxnVI/AAAAAAAAADA/y4_q6uj2Y98/s320/goldigg.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308090303858711890" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:x-large;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; W&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;hat characteristics personify or indefinitely constitute one as being a &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;'gold digger' &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;and how does this differentiate from an &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;opportunist&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;? I mean, let's be real here, money creates opportunity and opportunities create wealth. Straight up, I'm an opportunist, but I'm also &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;not&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; no damn broke chick (and no, that's &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;not&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; a double negative). Unless dude is in school or under any other extenuating circumstances that justify his pockets touching (&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;subjectively&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;),  I can't fuck with the situation. Shit is just &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;not &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;a good look for a &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;semi&lt;/span&gt; established individual like myself. Matter fact, I think the only variable that overrides a dude being broke is if he knows how to fuck&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;. Compensation is a beautiful thing, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;ya'll&lt;/span&gt;, and good dick can be the solution to a plethora of problems. I wouldn't necessarily cuff though.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; With that being said, I don't think I lack the capacity to care for somebody who's money ain't long but if he has no ambition and isn't willing to put in work to get where he should feel like he deserves to be he's extra liable to get 86'd quick-fast. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;On Another Note...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; The &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;"7 Dates on 7 Nights"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; Chronicles will be discontinued until further notice due to the fact that it's fucking up the game for the kid. At this time I feel that it hinders more than it helps my search for Mr Right Now. I've also been too preoccupied with work (&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;yes, I just pulled the overworked and overstressed card&lt;/span&gt;)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; However, if something post-worthy presents itself (&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;i.e. me smashing&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;), I won't hesitate to divulge.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8312246361182687233-7888038631119365399?l=miss-right-now.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://miss-right-now.blogspot.com/feeds/7888038631119365399/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://miss-right-now.blogspot.com/2009/03/now-i-aint-sayin-she-gold-digger.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8312246361182687233/posts/default/7888038631119365399'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8312246361182687233/posts/default/7888038631119365399'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://miss-right-now.blogspot.com/2009/03/now-i-aint-sayin-she-gold-digger.html' title='&lt;i&gt;&quot;Now I Ain&apos;t Sayin&apos; She A Gold Digger...&quot;&lt;/i&gt;'/><author><name>Her.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10270140749502468082</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k03vFGXoCF0/Sag5SlFyeRI/AAAAAAAAACg/RwNo6jrwYAc/S220/mys.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k03vFGXoCF0/SaogAgUxnVI/AAAAAAAAADA/y4_q6uj2Y98/s72-c/goldigg.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8312246361182687233.post-8553487633628382760</id><published>2009-02-27T02:01:00.032-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-27T04:44:21.945-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Fact: Women Take Rejection Harder Than (Most) Men</title><content type='html'> &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:x-large;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:x-large;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:x-large;"&gt;T&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;ruth&lt;/span&gt;.com. This post is gonna sound like I'm salty as hell. But I am, so &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;s'whatever&lt;/span&gt;. It is what it is and I wanna be as real with &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;ya'll&lt;/span&gt; as possible (&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;no faking the fizzle&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;). I know what I want and I don't like playing games. I've come to the point in my life where I'm too old for this redundant High School peanut butter and jelly bullshit. I mean, what's the point of pussyfooting around an issue? You either want something or you don't, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;right?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; It's a wrap for indecisive dudes this year; I don't have the time nor the energy to chase &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;ya'll&lt;/span&gt; anymore.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; I &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;know&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; for a fact I'm &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;trippin&lt;/span&gt;' with this one though, folks. I like dude. I've expressed this to him, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;thoroughly&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Aigh&lt;/span&gt;, so it's been established, we gonna get it &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;poppin&lt;/span&gt;' like we '&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;sposed&lt;/span&gt; to do, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;right?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; I wouldn't even mind just smashing to keep it 100 with &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;ya'll&lt;/span&gt; because to tell &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;ya'll&lt;/span&gt; the truth (God as my witness), I ain't had my back blown out in a minute. I don't have sex with anybody I don't feel I have a connection with and since dude fits the bill/my criteria I thought this was the perfect opportunity. Plus he's local and I'd prefer not to make a habit out of travelling for dick.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;"We ignore the ones who adore us, adore the ones who ignore us, hurt the ones who love us, and love those who hurt us."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; This doesn't necessarily correlate with my post &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;verbatim,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; but regardless, the gist of the quote is fairly accurate with the situation. Women are so ass-backwards. Blue's Clues Logic and shit. Obviously no bias considering I am the proud owner of a vagina but I'm keeping it real as hell right now. Why the fuck do we want what's not good for us or what we don't think we can attain as easily as it's willing to come to us? Matter fact, I'm gonna opt to go more in depth with this in another entry. So fuck it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;In Conclusion...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;If &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;shit's&lt;/span&gt; not &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;at least&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; mutual I can't even fuck with it. K.I.M status. It's cool to pursue something or someone you're interested in but you have to draw a line in the sand somewhere. Putting yourself out there time and time again to someone who is unresponsive is not &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;the move&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;. This persistence bullshit ain't really me and I have too many &lt;/span&gt;&lt;s&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;great&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/s&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;good&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; options to start &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;sweatin&lt;/span&gt;' somebody who doesn't know what they want. At the end of the day I might not always (necessarily) get what I want but it saves time; and that's not a resource I have in abundance these days (&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;despite the frequent blog updates, naturally. This shit my therapy &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;ya'll&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;). I ain't &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;addressing&lt;/span&gt; this shit again neither. Once is more than enough.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:x-small;"&gt;(On a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;sidenote&lt;/span&gt;, I guess karma &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:x-small;"&gt;really&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:x-small;"&gt; is a bitch. I lost)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8312246361182687233-8553487633628382760?l=miss-right-now.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://miss-right-now.blogspot.com/feeds/8553487633628382760/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://miss-right-now.blogspot.com/2009/02/fact-women-take-rejection-harder-than.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8312246361182687233/posts/default/8553487633628382760'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8312246361182687233/posts/default/8553487633628382760'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://miss-right-now.blogspot.com/2009/02/fact-women-take-rejection-harder-than.html' title='Fact: Women Take Rejection Harder Than (Most) Men'/><author><name>Her.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10270140749502468082</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k03vFGXoCF0/Sag5SlFyeRI/AAAAAAAAACg/RwNo6jrwYAc/S220/mys.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8312246361182687233.post-3148646280599717839</id><published>2009-02-25T14:52:00.026-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-27T04:25:00.824-05:00</updated><title type='text'>7 Dates on 7 Nights Vol. II: Tuesday</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k03vFGXoCF0/SaW2TbiobbI/AAAAAAAAABw/1u99PmjBTT4/s1600-h/0225091617.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k03vFGXoCF0/SaW2TbiobbI/AAAAAAAAABw/1u99PmjBTT4/s320/0225091617.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306848180852780466" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:x-large;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:x-large;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;W&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;ell, I wouldn't really call it a &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;date&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; per &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;se&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;... actually, I'm quite confused as to what it was myself. Let me start from the beginning, there's actually a generally interesting back story as to how I met dude. It all started last summer...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; I was walking from my complex to the post office about 3 blocks away blasting my &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;ipod&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; and minding my own business. All of a sudden I see an x5 in the right lane driving down the strip in the opposite direction. He honks and signals that he's gonna make a U-turn to come talk to me (&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Oh God... who am I kidding though he has an x5...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;). I don't usually stop what I'm doing and wait for somebody to &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;holla&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; at me but I can't front, I was curious as hell to see who dude was. At that point, I hadn't been in the neighborhood too long and wasn't particularly familiar with anybody living there.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; Eventually he made his way over to me, pulled in to a nearby parking lot and came out to talk to me. He was &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;brolic&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; as a motherfucker. He asked the standard questions; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;"What's your name?; When did you move here?; Do you have a man?" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;etc. At that point I was seeing someone so I told him what the deal was but he remained persistent. He offered me a ride to wherever I was going but I assured him my destination was close and I'd rather walk it. He gave me his number anyways, told me to give him a call when I stopped messing with '&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;little &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;niggas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;'. I didn't really think that much of it and went on with my day. I never called him.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; Fast-forward to the end of summer and the beginning of fall. Someone to whom I was close with in the hood found himself in some proverbial hot water. Long story short, he was hustling under some dude and was late on a few payments. He went incognito for a while after being threatened with his life on a few separate occasions. Come to find out he was moving product under my man in the x5. He (was) heavy in the streets for years apparently. Damn.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; Last Thursday I was on my way home from work and I stopped at the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;s&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;bodega&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/s&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; corner store for some &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;phillies&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; and much to my surprise, guess who I ran into? He was with somebody in the passenger seat, young dude, so I assumed he was &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;working&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;. He proceeded to compliment me (&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;yeah, I looked pretty fly that day. Stepped out the house with 5 inch stilettos in 7 inches of snow. It's &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;nothin&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;' though.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;) and ask for &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;my&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; number since I didn't know how to keep in contact with folk. No more than 10 minutes later I was bombarded with texts from dude. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Talkin&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;' about how he can't wait to do something and how he digs my &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;swag. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I was tired as hell that night and didn't feel like going out so I gave him a call and we talked for a bit. We stayed in contact &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;texting&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; and calling back and forth all weekend and he expressed he couldn't wait to take me out. Said he'd been thinking about me all the time. Wow, he's going super hard.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; Sunday night rolled around and he asked to do something but I had already made plans (&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;see blog post below&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;) so I told him most definitely this week we'll get up. I came home from work Tuesday, tired as hell from the day, weather was terrible and I had almost no motivation to do anything. I reached into my pea coat to grab the keys to my apartment and just as I was about to unlock the door, I felt something vibrate. I pulled out my phone. It was &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;him&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; We made plans to kick it that night around 9 so again, I waited for the call telling me he was downstairs waiting for me in the lobby. He pulls up in yet &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;another&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; vehicle and I walk over and hop in. He explains he just uses this vehicle (HUGE truck, that's the extent of my automobile knowledge, kiddos) for touring purposes and that he's picking up his white range rover the next day. We talk about work and the area specifically. He lives in the suburbs and has a spot downtown but he grew up in the hood. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;My&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; hood. He talks about his endeavors in the music industry, his label, book deal, websites, travels across the country and mentions one of his artists is dropping a single in the next week or so. I listen to the unmixed versions of a few tracks. They were hot. He explains that he's in the process of shopping him to a few major labels south of the border and has thus far gotten a very positive response.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; We hit up his crib in the burbs to pick something up and cop some trees. He gave me a copy of his book. I'm actually reading it at work right now. It's a fictional story about life growing up in the hood that loosely mirrors his own experiences. I'd post a link but I'd like to preserve some &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;semblance&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; of anonymity; even though he would probably &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;love &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;the promotion.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;In Conclusion...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Overall I had a good night. I was surprised at how eloquent and articulate he was. Pleasantly surprised. We talked about the business, marketing and promotion and I might now have the opportunity to get my feet wet in the industry. He's a genuinely nice guy and I look forward to seeing him again if for nothing more than to establish whether he has &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;ulterior&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; motives or not. Loyalty is paramount for dude and I feel like if I started to fuck with him I'd have to make a lot of &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;drastic&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; changes in my life and situation. We'll see what happens.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8312246361182687233-3148646280599717839?l=miss-right-now.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://miss-right-now.blogspot.com/feeds/3148646280599717839/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://miss-right-now.blogspot.com/2009/02/7-dates-on-7-nights-vol-ii-tuesday.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8312246361182687233/posts/default/3148646280599717839'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8312246361182687233/posts/default/3148646280599717839'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://miss-right-now.blogspot.com/2009/02/7-dates-on-7-nights-vol-ii-tuesday.html' title='7 Dates on 7 Nights Vol. II: Tuesday'/><author><name>Her.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10270140749502468082</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k03vFGXoCF0/Sag5SlFyeRI/AAAAAAAAACg/RwNo6jrwYAc/S220/mys.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k03vFGXoCF0/SaW2TbiobbI/AAAAAAAAABw/1u99PmjBTT4/s72-c/0225091617.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8312246361182687233.post-5032604269297091005</id><published>2009-02-23T17:19:00.012-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-27T04:23:57.984-05:00</updated><title type='text'>7 Dates on 7 Nights Vol. I: Sunday</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k03vFGXoCF0/SaMhBlZ_Z9I/AAAAAAAAABo/6EezgfO8xsQ/s1600-h/bl1.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k03vFGXoCF0/SaMhBlZ_Z9I/AAAAAAAAABo/6EezgfO8xsQ/s320/bl1.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306121097077286866" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:24px;"&gt; &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:x-large;"&gt;S&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;o last night I went out on a movie date with a dude from the West End. We hadn't really had much contact since the first time we spoke but he seemed like a genuinely nice guy so when he asked me out I happily obliged. Initially we planned to go out on a double date (which I was apprehensive about, considering they were &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;his&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; friends; and more specifically his friend and his &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;girlfriend&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;) but Sunday afternoon rolled around and when I sent him a text to see if we were still on he had mentioned it would be just he and I that evening. Relief flooded my body instantaneously. OK, I can deal with this.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; Needless to say I spent the remainder of the day primping and preening. Earlier I had gotten a manicure/pedicure so all I really had to take care of was showering, shaving (hey, you never know, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;right?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;), and making sure whatever I was gonna wear was immaculately clean and pressed. I ended up wearing black stiletto peep toe pumps with a tight pencil skirt and a cute ruffled blouse. Naturally, I coupled that with matching black bra and lace panties (hey, you never know, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;right?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; Around a quarter to 9, he called me telling me that he was downstairs. I grabbed my bag and proceeded down to the lobby. As I stepped out of the elevator and walked toward the main entrance I turned my swag on, word to Soulja Boy. I took a quick glance at the mirror adjacent to the mailboxes in the lobby, flicked my hair, licked my lips and &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;strutted&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; toward his vehicle waiting outside my complex. I &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;felt&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; bad as hell.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; We arrived at the movie theater about an hour later and decided to catch the last showing of 'He Is Just Not That Into You' (&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;hmmm&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;). When we entered the theater he suggested we go to the very back (&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;hmmm&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;) so I humored him and we took our seats moments before the lights dimmed. We made small talk during the previews and I could tell he was nervous. It was cute though. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; Throughout the movie we made the mandatory color commentary and loosened up a bit. I caught him looking at me on more than a few occasions and all I could do was smile. There's something about this dude that's attractive and charming as hell to me. At one point he had asked to hold my hand. I thought his request was somewhat strange because if he would have done so without asking I probably would have done it anyways but I guess he needed that reassurance.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; We both had work in the morning so we agreed it would be best for him to take me home instead of opting to have a few drinks and bullshit at the bar for a while. He was very respectful the whole night and it made me feel very safe and comfortable to be in his company. In some respects he made me feel like I was 16 again; and that's not a bad thing. As the night drew to a close and we pulled up to my building he motioned to kiss me... and I &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;actually&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; let him. To anyone that knows me personally, they know I'm not the biggest advocate of this at all... hell, I don't even share my blunts. Something about the situation just felt right so I threw caution to the wind and just went for it; and I'm glad I did. He was an amazing kisser and left me wanting more. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; We ended up talking on the phone tonight for a bit and discussed a second date. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;In Conclusion...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt; &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I was pleasantly surprised to find that not all men in this city are lame. I would never have thought that this dude was my &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;type&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; but if I just open myself up to more possibilities I can &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;easily&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; find someone who is worth my time and energy. I'm not necessarily looking for anything serious right now but he's definitely someone I can kick it with; so we'll see what happens.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8312246361182687233-5032604269297091005?l=miss-right-now.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://miss-right-now.blogspot.com/feeds/5032604269297091005/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://miss-right-now.blogspot.com/2009/02/7-dates-on-7-nights-vol-i-sunday.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8312246361182687233/posts/default/5032604269297091005'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8312246361182687233/posts/default/5032604269297091005'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://miss-right-now.blogspot.com/2009/02/7-dates-on-7-nights-vol-i-sunday.html' title='7 Dates on 7 Nights Vol. I: Sunday'/><author><name>Her.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10270140749502468082</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k03vFGXoCF0/Sag5SlFyeRI/AAAAAAAAACg/RwNo6jrwYAc/S220/mys.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k03vFGXoCF0/SaMhBlZ_Z9I/AAAAAAAAABo/6EezgfO8xsQ/s72-c/bl1.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry></feed>
