The 'View From Here

On Sunday, I was reading a blog I frequently peruse. It's written by a guy I met last summer through a mutual friend and it’s called "Personification of Crazy" . Now while I haven't seen any sides of the crazy he speaks of, he's a cool dude and lately I read his stuff and think "Damn, I could have written the exact same thing." Any who, he participated in a series called "Interview Me". The rules are as follows:

1. If you want to participate, leave me a comment saying, “Interview me (and give me your e-mail address if I don't already have it).” (Note from me: if you don't want to publicly advertise your email address, you can send me an email)
2. I will respond by emailing you five questions. I get to pick the questions.
3. You will update your blog with the answers to the questions.
4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.

After reading his interview, I was intrigued and it sounded like fun. I wouldn't mind sharing my 'view so I did as instructed and followed the rules (for once...LOL). I wondered what kind of questions he would ask and prayed they wouldn't be ridiculous/perverted/sadistic...you get the picture. So with out further adieu, here's my 'view as asked by Mike.

1. You went to school in Virginia and live in New York. In your experience, are men down south better than those up north or are all men about the same? Does chivalry exist anywhere anymore?
Hmmmm. When I was in school I dated no one from New York. I figured if I wanted a New York boy I might as well stay in New York. LOL With that said, I will say neither is better than the other - just different. The approach was definitely different. I remember feeling like the aggressor in some situations in school. But I quickly learned soft and "pink" was the way to go but I never lost that New York edge. I guess that's why all the guys who "found" me on our alumni website tell me they used to think I was mean back in the day. Interesting enough, all those dudes are from Down South. LOL
Now as far as chivalry, its status of life or death depends on the situation. I find that when I am acquainted with the guy, they know that I expect some sort of chivalrous gestures. And I don't have to say anything; it's a quiet expectation that if we are going to hang/be friendly/date, you better come with your A game. Conversely, I find in some day to day interactions with strangers, chivalry may be dying a slow agonizing death. I've had doors closed on me when my arms are full; guys stepping on or off an elevator before me. One dude even stepped in front of me and damn near tripped me to get on the elevator first. But just when I think someone has pulled the life support plug and chivalry is gasping on its final breath, a guy (a stranger) will do something so simple as hold the door for me when I'm not immediately behind him or offer to carry my packages. Now the question is: Is flirting masked as chivalry???

2. You and I met in a bar last summer, and during our first round of drinks, I toasted to my new found freedom. When was the last time in your life you felt completely free?
Hmmmmm....that's a tough one. I've had snapshots of freedom in my life like when I walked away from teaching with no actual job lined up (sounds weird but it was more liberating that sunbathing on a nude beach).Another weird "freedom" moment was when I turned a guy down last year who wanted us to be serious. He had marriage on his menu and while he was good in theory, I actually listened to myself and said "no". He wasn't the one for me. No matter how many zeroes he had in his bank account or how many times he sent his driver to take me to run errands (actually I could have gotten used to that...LOL) or how many amazing restaurants he exposed me to or how kind, thoughtful, and sweet he was, I couldn't do it. In the past, if a guy wanted to be with me then I agreed to a relationship even if he wasn't in my best interest. But that day, I was free to say “no, I can’t be with you” and I was okay with that. (kinda miss the driver though…lol)

3. You once had a guy you were dating read your blog. Is there currently anyone in your life who you would not want to stumble across your blog?
Well, as a (new) rule, I’d prefer it if the guys I date don’t read the blog. If I meet a guy and I think he wants to date me, then I may or may not tell him I write a blog. And if I do tell him, I never give the address. It’s unbalanced access to my life. And I’ve had guys read past entries and want to analyze me like this is an assignment for English Lit Class (one day, but not today). That freaks me out. Also, I would hate if my Dad read my blog. While I think he would find it entertaining, he doesn’t need to know about my dating life. I’ve painted the perfect picture of the me I want him to know. Reading this blog would destroy all of my hard work. But honestly, I wish there was a way that he could read some entries and I could block the others. I need some sort of Parental Control on here. LOL

4. What is the most spontaneous thing you have done for a guy?
A few months back I posted a photo-blog visualizing one of the spontaneous things I’ve done for a dude. I actually walked out of my apartment, took the elevator with my new neighbor, and walked to a waiting car outside with no one knowing what wasn’t underneath that trench coat. Hustle was so caught up in my new glasses that we were about 25 minutes into a 30 minute drive before he realized what was going on under the trench coat. Good times. LOL
I have a spontaneous spirit so I always think of spur of the moment things to do. I woke up one morning and decided to make lunch for the boo du jour (this was a while ago). I delivered it to his office complete with a beverage and dessert; made sure he got it, then bounced. The next dude I boo up is gonna be spoiled. LOL

5. What is your favorite guilty pleasure?
Ohhh that’s a tough one. Ummm, reality shows like Real Housewives but shit Anderson Cooper is a fan. How “guilty” is this pleasure??? LOL
Ummm, ice cream out the carton. Oh yes, I just want a spoon and the carton. I hate when I have to be all civilized and scoop it into a mug (I hate using a bowl for ice cream unless it’s a bowl/mug hybrid. LOL). Now that I think about it, I have a few guilty pleasures. I just may save the rest for an entire blog entry one day.

Thanks, Mike for the interview. It was harder than I thought (that’s what she said….hahahahahhahahaha)

Retraction of sorts......

Okay, so I've been cursed out. Well not really. But I had a stern talking to from a few over the past couple of days. So, I guess I need to post a disclaimer/retraction/whatever to clear the air.So in my last depressing post, I lamented on being alone. (Gosh, how did you read that?! It was painful to re-read). However, in my re-read, I realized that I forgot to mention one tiny detail. I didn't tell anyone about my mom's procedure. I didn’t call anyone and say “Hey, my mom’s going to the hospital tomorrow and I could really use some company.” And for that I was in Troubbbbbbbble (remember how Tootie on Facts of Life used to say it?? Yeah, like that! hahahahahaa). Actually I told 3 people.
1. My boss so I could have the day off.
2. Guy Guru. And if I remember correctly that was like total accident side-bar kind of mention on G-chat like:
Me: “I’m killing myself at work to finish this project especially since I won’t be here tomorrow.”
Guy Guru: “you playing hookie tomorrow son?”
Me: “haha. I wish. My mom is having surgery of sorts tomorrow.”
Guy Guru: word?! is everything okay??
Me: “yeah, it’s cool. So on Friday blah blah blah”
3. My BFF, Zilla. And even when I told her I had no information. It was just like “hey my mom’s has to have surgery again” as an afterthought to another conversation. And I didn’t tell her when the surgery was until the night before because honestly I forgot.

As these conversations point out, I have a hard time sharing bad news. I don’t want the pity and the conversations and all the pomp and circumstance that goes along with it. I don’t want to talk about it. I just want to process it, think about, write about it. But hardly ever do I want to talk about it. Which led to my post on Thursday. And the subsequent “cursing out” for the past couple of days.

From what I gather the sentiment is not about me choosing to be alone. It seems to be because in that documented vulnerable moment I felt alone. And according to the discussions over the past couple of days that’s the source of discontent because I didn’t have to feel that way. From actual offers to sit with me to just wanting to support through prayers and text messages, I’ve heard it all. Baskin Robbins was especially upset with me because I didn’t say anything until that evening when he asked “how was your day?” Telling him hadn’t crossed my mind. And even now I can think of a few reasons why. But at the end of the day it made me realize that I’m not big on sharing that small part of me that is completely vulnerable. I can share a story of a bad day or a funny moment. But when it comes to those moments in life when I’m scared or when my true vulnerabilities have the potential to be exposed, I shut my mouth and let my fingers do the talking. And while pouring my heart out through the pores of my fingertips feels therapeutic and pushes the envelope in the development of my writing, it doesn’t help in my personal relationships. Saving that side of me for the written world is not completely living. And damn sure isn’t sharing. So what do I do? Well, I can’t stop writing. Helllooo, I just got Carrie B. so I can’t stop now. Maybe when it comes to those vulnerabilities I’ll shut my fingers and let my mouth do the talking for a change. And share more of me to those who genuinely care.

So to all those that matter most to me, I apologize for making you an afterthought and not a forethought when I was going through yet another challenging episode in my life. While I may have been alone at the hospital on Thursday, I never once felt lonely. And I have you to thank for that. I will do better. I have to.

Malnourished

I find myself sitting here again. At damn near the same table. Last time I had a pen and a few sheets of printouts to compose my thoughts. This time I have my laptop. Alone. Just me and Carrie B. (yes I named my laptop – her full name is Carrie Bronze Obama). Whenever I find myself waiting in the hospital cafeteria I am acutely aware of my status. Actually, that awareness slaps my perceptions into reality in the family waiting area. There I see family huddled together. Laughing, joking, crying, praying. Together. And my singleness is singled out as I am relegated to the lone hard chair in the corner as opposed to the comfy warm sofas lined around the room. I see the glances with the looks, a mix of bewilderment and pity. “Wow, you’re going through this alone?! I couldn’t imagine…” “Awwww you’re going through this alone. I couldn’t imagine…..” When the bewildered pity becomes way to stifling I escape to the Garden Café in the basement (where the only garden I see are three poster size pictures of the Botanical gardens hanging by the cashiers). The “café” is a mix of hospital staff, construction workers (they are forever improving this hospital), and transient guests - those of us who are forced to be for one reason or another and hope that we don’t have to return. Here everyone is too busy to glance my way. Well except for the construction guys but I think they have carnal thoughts in mind.

While Carrie B. can distract me and captivate my fingertips, she cannot hold my hand. She can’t restore my faith that everything will be okay….again. She can’t pray with me. I know I said before that I think I’m getting tired of dating and this is one of those times where I can see the benefits of being in the circle of 2. That support, the every present “having my back”, the take charge when I can’t, allowing me to be vulnerable and weak because I know someone else has strong taken care of for both of us. Someone who will let me rant my innermost thoughts and still love me after the revelation. I can’t say that I’ve ever had that in my life but something in my soul is telling me that it’s what is missing. Maybe its too many days spent cramped in a hospital cafeteria waiting for my mother to come out of surgery. Maybe it’s the upcoming birthday. Maybe its finally believing that anything is possible thanks to my new president. Whatever it is, I have a feeling of malnourishment and I don’t know what else my soul needs. Am I starving myself by keeping relationships at bay? Am I an relationship anorexic??

If I find myself here in the Garden Café at damn near the same table, I want the option to leave Carrie B.

(Butterfly Note: My inauguration blog is forthcoming. I have been swamped at work and today my mind was elsewhere. I hope you understand. And if you don't, the little red x in the corner and you should get acquainted. Go' head and click on it. Smoochies)

New chapter.....

Right now at this moment, I'm sitting in bed. In my jammies and spectacles. Watching Sex and the City. And typing this blog on my brand new HP laptop. Yes family friends stalkers and stans, I, your favorite Resident Butterfly is now the proud owner of a beautiful 17 inch screen, HP Pavillion Entertainment PC (well that's what the little inscription says in the right hand corner).

Since I couldn't get out of this all consuming big city of mine, I decided to do just go ahead and buy my ever elusive missing link between Carrie and I - my laptop. And true to the love of all things beautiful, my new baby is bronze. All over. Except the mouse pad area. That's a mirror. You mean I can type to heart's content and then check my makeup without missing a keystroke??? Sweeeeeeet.

I've had ideas just pouring into the forefront of my brain ever since I got over my sticker shock, and actually committed to opening the box (Sidebar: does anyone else feel sick to their stomach when they buy a big ticket item??? like "holy crap I just spent $XXXX. I could solve world hunger/pay my mortgage/pay a hitman to rid the world of stalkers/take an extensive vacation" and a hundred other options to spend your money?? please don't tell me I'm the only one). It's as if someone turned flicked the on switch and my fingers can't keep up. What's most on my mind lately??? What else? Relaysheeships. Blame it on the Sex and the City marathon on my TV. Blame it on all the images of the Obamas ingrained in my brain all weekend. Blame on the alcohol (this new song on Jamie Foxx's Cd is becoming my fav of the moment. And if I'm not mistaken it was written by a fellow Hamptonian. I bet our Home by the Sea provided some inspiration for it. hahahahahahaha).

I know any talk about my feelings on relaysheeships or my dating activity (or inactivity) has been missing lately from my blog. Just like the sticker shock that took hold of me earlier, I'm kinda afraid to open that box at the moment. I have no explanation why, it's just the way I feel at the moment. But maybe my new toy will open the vault on those emotions.

Introduction of D. Tone

I just hung up on my godbrother. Notice I didn't say "with', I said "on". And I don't regret it one bit. He needed to speak with Ms. D. Tone because I had nothing more to say and she always has something to add to the convo.

Once my original plans for this weekend were canceled, I figured I might make the trip to the Philly area to spend time with he, his wife, and their daughter (technically, the original plans were my Plan B plans when Plan A was too costly for a trip without a sandy beach and an umbrella'ed drink). My godbrother always complains that I don't spend any time with them. So a last minute trip would have been perfect. And cheap.

I ask him if he had any plans for the weekend. He tells me he doesn't because of a snow storm blowing through the area. I hadn't heard about a snow storm but then again I wasn't looking at the weather in Philly. Hmmm, snow in Philly??? Okay, no problem. (The fact that I, would even contemplate anywhere in snow is a testament to my need to get away for just a moment).

Then the foolishness starts. First its the "don't get married speech" which always puzzles me because ummmmm yeah he has a wife. Then there's the "why you ain't got no man?" spiel. When I tell him about the dudes that I'm dating, he finds fault in everyone of them. "He has about 3 kids that he's not telling you about." "You're not fucking him but somebody else is". "You sure know how to pick a winner, remember _______ and _________. " This of course always leads to the walk down Mistake Mile. And it seems that its only my mistakes that reside there. He reminds me of every bonehead wild child thing I did when I was in college and thereafter. And quite frankly I'm sick of this route. UGH!!! Enough already. I did this some of this shit like 12 years ago. You have nothing more to say.???Or better yet compliment me on the things I've done right, like graduate and dump ______ and ________????

And frankly, today seems to be the day that I'm done with it. Hell no, I'm not going to Philly to hear more of this shit. Hell no, I'm not calling him back until he realizes once and for all I'm done with this brand of foolishness (yes, I punked out and sent him an email detailing WHY he had to speak to Ms. D. Tone). He needs to realize that there's a better me here today. And that I don't call him for a beatdown on my character or the choices I make in life. I call him because I love him and his family and I want him to be a part of my life. I call him because he's like the big brother I've never had and sometimes I need to lean a little on him. I call him to vent and to cry and to plan and to think and to laugh and to love. But all he seems to give in return is ridicule. So, Ms. D. Tone meet my godbrother. Hopefully, you won't be friends for too long.

There are signs everywhere.....*

Printed on my Starbucks cup this morning:

The Way I See It #76

The irony of commitment is that

its deeply liberating - in work, in play, in love.

The act frees you from the tyranny of your internal critic,

from the fear that likes to dress itself up and parade around

as rational hesitation. To commit is

to remove your head as the barrier

to your life.

--Anne Morriss

Starbucks customer from New York City

She describes herself as an "organization builder, restless American citizen, optimist.

With my mind occupied with thoughts of commitment to all things work, play and love lately who knew I would find some insight on the matters on the back of my Starbucks cup?? Later today when I went to order coffee for a staff meeting from the same Starbucks. No one else had this message. Only me. Maybe there is some truth to signs being everywhere. In any case, I'm paying attention.

*A dollar to the first person who guesses what movie I got the title from. (Stalkers need not respond...hahahaha)

(there are also funny signs everywhere. who the hell is Slippy and why do I need to heed caution?? hahahaha)

You know better....

Butterfly's note: This was actually written on my beloved Treo on Dec. 30 with all intent to be posted before the end of the year. Somehow in my mind, I didn't want to post it this year since it was a "last year" issue but on the flip side I didn't want my last post of the year to be about this either. However, ever since the incident its still taking up residence in my brain and I find myself re-writing without pen, paper, or Treo handy. Thus leading me to spill it. Proceed.


"I DON'T GIVE A FUCK!"

"FUCK THAT NIGGA, YO! THAT MUTHA FUCKA'S DEAD ASS WRONG"

"YO WHY THE FUCK YOU YELLIN', YO?! WE RIGHT HERE!"

"YEAH I'M GETTING LOUD SO FUCKING WHAT. YOU AIN'T HEARING ME! WHAT THE FUCK YO"



This was the conversation I walked into on the D train. From the magnitude of the volume emanating from behind the closed doors as the train pulled into the station, one would think the entire car was embroiled in a bitter battle. But no such luck. As I entered the train I realized it was 3 girls apparently arguing over the nuances of their friendship.



"I'M SAYIN'. YOU GIGGLIN' AND SHIT ON THE PHONE WITH THIS FUCKING BITCH BUT YOU MY FUCKIN' FRIEND. THAT SHIT AIN'T RIGHT, YO!"



There's no telling how long this discourse was taking place since I'd just got on the train but if I had to guess from all the eyes rolled to the top of the train car it had gone on for quite some time.

The passengers were just trying to ignore them and get to their destination. So I joined them and rolled my eyes upward and shook my head at the audacity of hood. But it's really hard to ignore the shrill yells of teenage girls.



"OKAY. ENOUGH. YOU NEED TO STOP FUCKING CURSING LIKE THAT IN FRONT OF MY GRANDBABIES.



Now its quite ironical (yes I know ironical is not a real word but I like it, okay...hahahaha) that Grandma used the same language in front of her grandbabies to get her point across but judging from the THUNDEROUS applause resonating through the subway car, she wasn't the only one who felt the same way.

Now what happened next I want to say shocked me but more so I felt shamed.

"WHO THE FUCK YOU THINK YOU TALKING TO??"
"LITTLE GIRL YOU HEARD ME. STOP USING THAT LANGUAGE IN FRONT OF MY GRANDBABIES. THEY DON'T HEAR THAT SHIT AT HOME AND WE'RE RAISING THEM RIGHT."
"LADY YOU DON'T FUCKING KNOW ME. FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU!" (okay she said it like 20 times in a row...I wonder if she set a world record)
(Grandma is standing up at this point) "LITTLE GIRL, I TOLD YOU. YOU MAY NOT HAVE NO RESPECT FOR YOURSELF BUT YOU NEED TO CUT IT OUT AND STOP CURSING IN FRONT OF MY GRANDBABIES. "
"BITCH, WHO YOU STEPPING TO. FUCK YOU. DON'T COME AT ME LIKE THAT. SUCK MY DICK."
"YO, CHILLLLL. HER GRANDKIDS ARE HERE. JUST TAKE AN EL AND BE QUIET" (this was "little girl's" friend she was arguing with; at least one of them seemed to have some common sense)
"NO FUCK THAT I'MA KEEP FUCKING TALKING. FUCK HER. SUCK MY DICK, BITCH. SUCK MY DICK."


"Mommy can we go to another train? I don't wanna be on the cursing train no mo'." said the little one seated next to me. (sidebar: how in the midst of all this foolish I got a seat is beyond me). As the little one put her tiny fingers in her tiny ears, her mother also fed up, tapped "little girl" on the shoulder. When "little girl" spun around, the woman whispered to her "Look, my kids are here too. You need to cut it out." Her response gave a peek into her rationale. "I'm sorry but she ain't have to fucking step to me like that, you know what I'm saying. She all cursing at me and shit!"

So let me get this straight, the ONLY reason she proceeded to behave like a wild banshee spewing four letter words like dollar bills in a strip club was because the older woman cursed at her???? After she was dropping F-bombs like it was the Gaza Strip on the D train???? The fact that this was an elder, somebody's grandmother didn't strike a chord?? The fact that she had white folks looking at the rest of us like "sucks to be you right now, buddy. don't you wish you were white?"had no bearing on her adolescent judgment.

While I understand that she is young (and therefore dumb), she should "know better." How many times growing up did you hear that phrase "Girl/boy, you know better" as a way to cut the foolishness before it got a chance to take root. Did anyone stop her with that admonition in her young life?? Maybe its my naivete, but I refuse to believe that we have gotten to a point where this behavior is deemed appropriate. Somewhere deep inside I want to believe that "little girl" knew better but let her swagger get the best of her, her teenage bravado overwhelmed and embarrassed by the situation. I want to believe that doing "hoodrat things my friends" will cease in the *09.

As some of you know, every other Saturday I teach for a program sponsored by the girls organization famous for their cookies (don't need my students or their parents finding my blog and reading my adventures....hahahahahaaa). Of the three classes I teach one of them is Etiquette. And this year is by far the worse to date - the attitudes, the disrespect, the bragging about fighting, etc. Most days I feel like I'm teaching The Bad Girls Club. And more disappointing, this is the first year where my class is all black. I've had to close the door and say some things I wouldn't dare repeat just to get their attention and stress how important these social skills of etiquette are in the way they present themselves to the world. Some of them just don't get it. Its so disheartening to see them wanting to be "ghetto" and not wanting better. They know that better exists, they just have no desire for it. I almost wish they didn't know of better's existence because how could you know if you want it if you never knew about it. Fortunately, I see some of them seeing the possibilities of better (honestly, if I didn't, I don't know if I could go back). I pray something I say or do sticks with them. I want to save them from the cruelty of not knowing better. That's the reason I got out of teaching. There were too many to "save" and I couldn't handle not succeeding in my efforts. In this situation, there aren't that many students but every time I walk in that classroom, I aim to show them better. I wish "little girl" was in my class and maybe I could knock some sense into her by the end of the program. I also wish that during that encounter, I had the strength to deal with her and her foolishness. But a) I wasn't trying to get into a shouting match with a teenager and b) just how many am I supposed to save??

By the end of the month, the Commander in Chief will look more like us than ever before. If only for his sake, we not only need to know better but we need to do better. The foolishness of the past can no longer get a pass. We can't lay our excuses in the hands of "the man". I'm not saying that racism, classism, will miraculously disappear when he takes the Oath of Office. But don't you think that everything "we" do in the streets will have an a trickle up effect to the White house. The roads leading there are paved black. We have to walk better, talk better, treat each other better, perform better, work better. With the cesspool that the economy finds itself in, he has more important things to worry about than someone saying "how can you expect us to do blah blah when you're own people can't get it together??". No its not fair because damnit we didn't hold every white person accountable for Dubya but we already know the double standard. That's why our parents made sure we knew better.

(PS I hate that this post sounds like one of those "back in my day, blah blah blah...........unfortunately, its the truth)

Say what now.....

Okay so I know this is my first *09 post and I wanted it, as my first for the new year, to be all philosophical and shit about my goals and plans and dreams all in my effort to SHINE IN '09!!!! However, when scratch the needle across the record moments occur I have to share them with my friends, fans, stalkers and stans. (SIDEBAR: will stalking go out of fashion in the '09...I'm just sayin'..hahahahaha).

This is a text I received a little while ago:
"So what's up with u? U seeing someone - male or female?"

SCRATCH THE NEEDLE ACROSS THE RECORD. WHAAAAAT?????!!!!

Mini background story is this is from a guy I've known for quite some time. He's a friend of a friend. I ran into him and the mutual friend last week at a party and numbers were exchanged for non-hooking up purposes. When he sent me a "Good Morning" text earlier, I knew I was in trouble because I got a feeling he's interested and I think I'm growing sick of dating (another blog for another day). So being the lady butterfly that I am, I responded in kind. Of course this leads to a discourse about running into each other at the party and how good I looked that night and blah blah blah. As the convo progressed I could tell he would figure out a way to ask me out. However, I was NOT expecting a sexual orientation disclosure via text. Like for real????!!! Is this how it's done in the streets these days???? And furthermore (and even scarier), why would YOU think I (MOI) am interested in chicks beyond wondering where they bought their shoes???? Don't let the natural hair fool you, bro. I am strickly dickly. Penis pleases me. Make that 100% natural, USDA Grade A certified, sent from Heaven above, purely organic flesh and veins beautiful penis. Yeah that's what I like. Strap ons and va-jayjays need not report for duty.

I've been on the dating scene for a minute now but this shit right here?? Yeah this is a first. Of course in this day and age you have to ask because thanks to Jerry Springer, you just never know. But ummm, call me a prude (yeah right) but ummm can we eaaaaase into that conversation and not trip over it right at the gate????

So how do I respond???
I can be super duper sarcastic and say something like "I got the best of both worlds with this tranny I'm with." but its hard to convey sarcasm and wit via text (and besides I have a reputation to uphold and this fool might actually believe me). I can be straight gangsta and say "MOTHER F***A, WHAT YOU ASK ME??? YOU BET NOT ASK ME NO SHIT LIKE THAT AGAIN!!!" but come on, who believes me as gangsta??? Do I get all siddified and respond with "I will not dignify such a crass inappropriate question with a response"? As much as I like to get my siddity on, my refusal may be interpreted as an acknowledgement that yes yes I date both genders. And that is soooooo not gonna work. I have an idea on how I will respond but I'm curious how would you handle it??? Feel free to get ignant. LOL