Love Struck

Hair today, gone tomorrow

Picture 002 Ladies, picture this. You’re sitting at the table with your beau giggling at his every utterance and flirtatiously twirling your hair around your finger. As he continues to swoon you, your giggle elevates to a chuckle and as your body jerks to the rhythm of your laughter you realize that the hair you were twirling is now resting between your finger tips, no longer connected to your scalp! Ugh! It’s the good old extension slip, don’t act like it hasn’t happened to you (if it hasn’t, you go girl!).

I was at dinner with a guy that I had been seeing for a couple months, and we were having a great time. It was summer, so I had my hair twisted to save time and effort from styling, so that I could sleep in a little. Well, I had the braids in for a little over a month and I washed them the day before. Well during the wash one of them must have gotten loose at the root because before I knew it I was scrunching the braid into the palm of my right hand hoping that he didn’t see it slip out. (Luckily, he didn’t). I immediately shoved it into my clutch making sure to be as nonchalant as possible.

I was paranoid for like 10 minutes, but once I realized that he didn’t know (or at least he played it off enough to make me think he didn’t), I loosened up and my little hair blip was the last thing on my mind.

Have you ever had a beauty blooper on a date? Feel free to share!

*Me w/ the twists a couple of weeks after the date

Posted by Margo on 08/20/2010 | Permalink | Comments (4)

Reblog (1) | | |

The Young & the Relationship-less: My Life, the Soap Opera‏

The eating stage: I bit off more than I could chew

It was a Thursday afternoon in the Fall of 2008, when my love life nose-dived from cloud nine to ground zero. I was on my laptop wall-hopping through my friends’ Facebook pages to get the latest scoop on their lives, when suddenly the chat bubble appeared in the lower left corner of the screen. The avatar in the popup was the face of a girl I had seen around my hometown but never really talked to, so to get a message from her caught me off guard.

“Hey. We need to talk. It’s about Mr. Slick*. Give me a call.” This statement was followed by seven digits that made me cringe.

FYI:Mr. Slick was my high-school sweetheart and my boyfriend up until my junior year of college. Six-foot-three, clean-cut with brown coco skin, he was definitely easy on the eyes.  It was a long-distance relationship; his college was about 2 hours north of mine, but we planned to live happily ever after post-graduation, so the distance was insignificant to us.

My initial thought to this message was: “This chick must be crazy. I know she is not coming at me trying to tell me about what my man is doing! She’s just a jealous girl with nothing better to do.”

After convincing myself that this situation was a flaming hot mess in and of itself, I continued what I was doing, but for some reason I couldn’t click the little X in the chat popup and I wanted to hear what she had to say, even if it was a bunch of lies.

Just as I logged off, my friend Dani called. I told her about my dilemma, and she urged me to call, so I did.

The conversation started cordially, but awkward. After about five minutes of small talk, shock and disgust overtook me. She exposed gut-wrenching details about a two-year relationship that she was having with my boyfriend. The intimate stories that she shared about him, were those that I thought only I knew. The things that he told me he bought were really gifts from her. And the man whose heart I thought I captured was giving his love to someone else.

I felt like I was the star of a Lifetime movie.  Between hello and goodbye I went from having the happy-go-lucky All-American relationship that people envied, to the star of a real-life soap opera.

I had to cope with the harsh reality that I was getting played.

The praying stage: I became bitter and un-trusting toward men

I hysterically called my girls, and between sobs, threats to beat him up and the ringing acquisition: “Do you want us to slit his tires?” I was able to laugh a little between tears.

I ended the relationship that night, but it took about a full year-and-a-half for me to let go of the comfort of having him as a source of attention and affection.

Now, ladies, don’t get me wrong. There were signs that this guy was a snake. The influx of “I’m busy.” Text messages that were never followed by a phone call, the sour stench of arrogance that he proudly wore when he professed “You’re not going anywhere because you love me,” and the constant accusations that I was cheating didn’t make me think twice about his loyalty.

You’d think that I would catch the hints since they were slapping me right in the face, right? Girl please! I was blinded by the what-ifs and the obvious became invisible to me. He was my first priority and my feelings became secondary to us both.

Post-relationship, I grew cold toward men and quickly adapted and coined “It’s all fun and games.” As my official catchphrase.

I was mad because I felt as though I wasted some of the best days of my life on the relationship, but at the same time I was relieved to know the truth.

Love: I decided to try something new

A few months ago, an Italian Stallion swept me off my feel. It all happened so fast and this was my first experience adding crème to my coffee. Now, you know this wouldn’t be a soap opera if I gave you all of the scoop in one post. Stay tuned, ladies. There’s so much more in store. 

*Name changed.

Posted by Margo on 08/12/2010 | Permalink | Comments (3)

Reblog (2) | | |

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