Relationship Posts: Which kind of couple are you?

No doubt we're in the social media age. It's so easy to post stuff, track stuff, be able to communicate with people that you never would be able to twenty years ago, and spread information with the click of a button.

In a lot of areas, this is a great thing. If you're running a business or representing a cause, or just want to get the word out about something, social media makes it incredibly easy to do that. But when it comes to personal relationships, it also makes it easy to over-share.

Of course, this is a matter of opinion. What one person thinks is too much information might not be enough for somebody else. But just speaking generally.

Just how much of our personal relationships, namely our romantic ones, should we share with the world?

I've broken it down into three general categories:

The Lights-Out Couple - You know they're together, but you know very little about their relationship. You almost never see any pictures of them anywhere. Their social media posts consists of everything but their relationship. Sometimes on special occasions they'll post a cute couple pic or give a shout-out, but that's about it. They certainly acknowledge each other; they've got nothing to hide. They just don't care for the world to see their business.

The Teaser Couple - You'll see stuff from them here and there, only on a somewhat-steady basis. Special occasions, like an anniversary or birthday, or just something random. It's just enough to make you wanna see a little more, but you never know when that next post is gonna be.

The Timeline-Flooder Couple - "All right, we get it! You're in love or whatever!" This is the couple that posts all day, every day. Pictures, tagged quotes, GIFs...anything that will remind their followers and friends that they are boo'd up. They are proud of their relationship, and they want to share their joy with everyone. Constantly.

Certainly, what people choose to put out there is totally their prerogative. If you and your bae are on the same page when it comes to that, then go for it.

However, if most of your moments are more public than they are private, it does beg the question: What are you trying to prove? Why do your followers need to see screenshots of your lovey-dovey text conversations? We already figure you talk to each other.

Or tagging them in things on social media to ask them questions that could just as easily be done in a private message?

Or posting pictures of you two in bed, letting us all know you're about to get your groove on (or you just finished)?

Hey, I'm no prude. I love to see people in love. But there are times when I've seen posts that were almost uncomfortable to look at, just because they were so personal. For example, one time a Facebook friend posted a screenshot of him and his woman on Facetime, and it was clear she was topless. Couldn't believe my eyes.

 Look, you're grown; if you wanna get your cyber freak-on with each other, have at it. But good lord, does everybody really need to see that?

I'm sure a psychiatrist could write an entire thesis on why people do this kind of thing. Maybe they were lonely for years and are now over-compensating. Maybe they grew up in a household that's very open and shares everything, and they carry that over into their relationships. Maybe they're coming from a crappy relationship and are so thrilled to be in a good one that they just can't keep it to themselves. Who knows.

But God forbid you break up. Then what are you gonna say? Are you gonna explain why we're no longer seeing the two of you making out in front of the grocery store or are you gonna act like everything is everything? Can you handle the questions about what happened? ('Cause you know folks are gonna ask).

I don't want to be that person that turns what is meant to be a positive thing into something negative. Like I said, if you and your boo are good with posting all of your business, and you can live with whatever comes from it, then that's all that really matters. At the end of the day, everyone has a right to share as much or as little as they wish.

Speaking of sharing too much, well, it's literally in the title of my latest book, When You Share Too Much. Do you have your copy? It's on Kindle, iTunes, Kobo, and Nook. Or you can get the old-school paperback here.

I love ya for reading. Until next week!

10 Things I'm REALLY Bad At

I really believe that everyone is gifted at something. No matter how small of a thing it may seem to be, everyone has something they're better than most at. Myself included.

But there are also things that we're just really bad at. We can practice it, study it, dream about it, take classes on it. We can do that stuff all day. Doesn't matter. We stink.

So I thought I would share with you some things that I am not very good at.

1. Anything to do with math.
- I can do the basic stuff. But if you start asking me to calculate a bunch of problems in my head, you lose me. I'm good with words, not numbers.

2. Making pancakes.
- Seriously. I can just never get those darn things to come out as nice as in the pictures. And I follow those freakin' recipes to the letter.

3. Pull-ups.
- Even when I was at my strongest, I just could not do those things.

4. Writing left-handed. 
- It looks like a kindergartner wrote it.

5. Rolling my tongue. 
- That sexy thing people can do where they roll their R's? Yeah, I can't do that at all.

6. Doing splits.
- I haven't been able to do those things since I was a kid.

7. Learning a foreign language. 
- I've tried, 'cause I would love to be multilingual. But I just can't remember most of the stuff.

8. Swimming.
- I don't get mess with anything deeper than five feet. Don't even ask me.

9. Doing cornrows. 
- And I actually went to cosmetology school. How sad is that?

10. Couponing
- I have read articles, looked at that extreme couponing show, joined coupon clubs, all that. It always ends up being more effort than it's worth. I don't need a bunch of coupons for baby stuff and dog food, which is usually what I ended up with.


I could keep going but I'll end my self-deprecation there.

Is there anything you're particularly bad at? Share them. I'm not gonna laugh.

Oh, and if you want to sign up for my email list, just click right here.

I love ya for reading. Until next week!

Is your BFF giving you the side eye?

Hey y'all. Let's talk.

You might have a homegirl/BFF or best bud that you love and would do anything for. And you're certain the feeling is mutual. Why wouldn't it be? Y'all have never had any major arguments. No falling out. No peanut butter stealing.

And even better, your spouses are best friends, too. I mean, come on...you just can't ask for much better than that.

But...while you might think all is well, maybe your BFF is silently resenting you.

And it doesn't have to be on some malicious stuff, either. They might genuinely care about and love you. But maybe there are some things going on that they can't help but hate on...

- Maybe your relationship is flourishing while theirs has hit a snag. (An extra hit is if your man/woman is hotter than theirs).

- What if your career is booming while they dread going to work everyday? Or worse, what if you don't even have to work while they're counting every penny?

- Your Instagram posts get likes galore with seemingly no effort while they use every trick in the book to garner attention and get almost nowhere. (Yes, people actually get in their feelings about this).

- You're aging gracefully or can eat whatever you want and gain nothing, while even sniffing some bacon has their jeans about to pop.

- If they're constantly getting compared to you, and coming out on the inferior end.

I could keep going. But you see what I'm talking about.

You might not be doing anything wrong at all, but simply because you have something they don't, whatever it may be, they look at you funny. And if it's more than one thing, that snowball starts to build. And it just keeps rolling the more they're exposed to or reminded of it.

Before long, they're ready to explode and you never knew anything was wrong in the first place.

Why not just address it and get it out on the table, you ask? Because they know they're being petty. They know they're wrong for resenting you for stuff that's not your fault. So they keep it to themselves, hoping to just get over it or pray it away. Which doesn't always work.

In my latest release, When You Share Too Much, Anika and Chrisette were best friends. Had been for years. But over time, Anika started realizing more and more ways Chrisette seemed to best her without even trying. All the while, Chrisette thought all was hunky-dory with them.

So Anika started giving Chrisette the side eye; not really wanting but also not able to help it.

Now how long do you think a friendship can really last under those circumstances?

I'm not trying to make you paranoid about your BFF. Just saying...it can happen.

I enjoyed creating this drama for Anika and Chrisette because it's something that can totally be related to. How many movies are there centering around this very thing? Jealousy and envy are poison to friendships.

And truth be told, you just never really know what anyone is thinking.


I'd love for you to read this book because there's plenty going on besides this. It's available in paperback, Kindle, Nook, Kobo, and iTunes. Just click the links.


I love ya for reading. Until next week!

Empty Nests Are for the Birds

It's Saturday night. I have things I could/should be doing but I'm posted up on my amazing sofa, reading a new book on Kindle and half-watching a college basketball game. And ordering stuff on Amazon.

My son is next to me and a I randomly (and often) smother his still-soft cheeks with motherly kisses, which he endures with a tolerant grunt.

It takes me back to when he was a chubby-cheeked baby who would scurry away from me as I playfully chased him, my fingers wiggling as I repeated how I was gonna get him. Then I'd sweep him up in my arms and tickle him and nuzzle his neck. We'd do this ten times and every time, he'd squeal and giggle like it was an unexpected surprise. And every time my grin would be a mile wide because, hey, hearing that laugh just never gets old.

Then it was like time just started to zoom.

Now he's 15, and the days of picking him up and toting him around in my arms are long gone. He towers over me now by several inches. (He doesn't even really like taking pictures with me anymore like this; that started to phase out by age 13 or so).

He thankfully still likes my hugs. And he'll come lay on my shoulder or my leg when we're sitting around the house. But when I go overboard with the affection, he's quick to reward me with one of his signature grunts and groan "Mom!"

It's hitting me that his freshman year of high school is going to be over in a couple of months, and then he'll be a sophomore. Then a junior. Then a senior. Then he'll be graduating and going to an out-of-state college.

Oh god!!!

I'm not ready for that and I know it. The thought of him packing up his things and going someplace where I won't see him everyday bums me out, regardless of the reason for it. I'm certainly not one of those parents that can't wait for their kids to leave the house. I love having my son here. Heck, I hate when he's gone for a weekend.

*deep breath*

I know it probably sounds like I'm one of those mothers that's overly attached their sons. I'm not. Do I love my son immensely? I absolutely do. But my life doesn't revolve around him and him only. When the time comes for him to go off to college, I'll deal with it.

But I'm not gonna kid myself and act like it's going to be a piece of cake, either. I won't be dropping or sending him off one minute and planning a freedom party the next. There will be some tears. I already know.

So that just means that I'll have to try to pry him away from YouTube long enough to squeeze in as much quality time as I can before then.

I'm kinda dreading the empty nest. Who knows where I'll be by 2022. I could be in a different career (fingers crossed), in a different house, married. Or all of the above. Doesn't matter. I'll still want my son here.

But, I know he'll have to grow up and live his life at some point. He can't stay here with me forever. And hopefully he won't want to; I want him to be independent and take care of himself, and I'm preparing him to be able to do just that.

And I'll have to ask some friends and family how they dealt with the empty nest syndrome.

I'll still remember chasing him around the house and grin when I think of his cute little baby squeal when I caught him, though.

Cross This One Off the Bucket List

Usually when people talk about bucket lists, you think of things like jumping out of an airplane, traveling to some foreign country, maybe meeting some famous person, stuff like that. Me, I never really had much of a bucket list to speak of (I guess I'm boring), but if I did, this one thing would be at the top of the list:

Being a surrogate.

This is something that I've wanted to do for years. I'm not sure where or when the desire originated, but I just know that it's been something that I've wanted to do for a while. And not knowing how exactly to go about it, a few years ago I did what most people do when they want to know something: I turned to the internet. I scoured the web for information on surrogacy; the requirements, the restrictions, the tales of personal experiences. All of it fascinated me.

After being glued to my computer screen for hours, soaking up all this wonderful information, I was even more eager to get started on this beautiful experience. I found a couple of agencies and filled out their questionnaires, just sure I'd be getting some good news in the following couple of days.

But to my surprise, what I got was rejection. And I got it fairly quickly.

Both of the agencies shut me down cold. Said, basically, that I was too fat to be a surrogate (okay, what they said was that my weight was disproportionate to my height, but in my mind, same thing). My hopes dashed, I thought that my dream to be a surrogate would be nothing more than just that, unless I dropped twenty or so pounds.

Losing some weight wouldn't have hurt, but I just ended up resigning myself to the fact that it wasn't going to happen. I didn't know any other way to try to make it happen. So I painfully put it out of my mind for the next couple of years.

Then one day on Facebook, I'm participating in a discussion (I forget the topic) in this group I'm a part of and mentioned that I wanted to be a surrogate. This woman suggested I contact an agency in Atlanta that her employer works with (I forget her occupation). I thanked her profusely, but held on to the number for a while before actually calling; I didn't want to get face-palmed again once they found out how thick and juicy I was. I did look up the agency, though, and remember liking what I saw; it was a different vibe than the other ones I had looked at. Despite my trepidations, I was getting a good feeling.

So eventually, I sucked it up and called Tomorrow's Parents International. I immediately reached a super nice man named Marcus, and when I told him I was interested in becoming a surrogate, he eagerly welcomed me and let me know who I needed to talk to, and it was on from there. That began a 14-month process towards me getting pregnant with a very nice foreign couple's baby.

(Normally, it probably doesn't take that long. I had some issues along the way; fibroids and polyps required me to have a hysteroscopy, then I had to recover from that, and the first two couples that chose me decided to move on thanks to this. And plus, it's somewhat of a tedious process, anyway, just because of all the things that go into it. I'm kind of kicking myself for not documenting all of it along the way because there's no way I can remember every little step now).

In November 2017, I went down to Augusta, GA to get an embryo implanted. In December, it was confirmed that I was pregnant. It took on the first try, thankfully. I was so excited! I can't even tell y'all how happy I was.

Not only was I getting to experience pregnancy again, but I was getting to help someone who really wanted a child of their own but was unfortunately unable to carry. I think some people take for granted how easy it is for a lot of people to get pregnant; my son certainly wasn't planned. But for other women, it's not so easy. It either takes multiple tries and/or the intervention of science, or it doesn't happen at all. I can't even imagine the pain of a miscarriage, but this lady Marjorie* had endured several, the last one being almost fatal, so she couldn't even try anymore. I was actually honored that they chose me to help them with something so amazingly important to them.

The pregnancy wasn't the smoothest in the world; my first one was way easier than this one. My first trimester, in a word, sucked. The second one was a little better. By the third, I felt I had hit my stride, though I was put on bed rest...due to my age, I was considered high risk, and I was working two jobs. Had to chill out with that (which I did not have a problem with) and I got a lot of rest leading up to the induction this past August.

The delivery went fine, though it was considerably more painful than it was with my son, and that was with the epidural. But when I saw the look of sheer elation on the faces of Marjorie and John*, it didn't even matter. That was what I did it for; seeing that look on their faces when their baby girl was born made all those gut-wrenching contractions and months of discomfort before that worth it.

Now I've recovered and am back to work (yippee) (not), and I almost can't believe it's over. After the long, tedious process to even get pregnant, it seemed like the pregnancy just flew by. Marjorie and John have gone back home with their beautiful baby, and they send me pictures and keep me updated on how they're doing, which I appreciate.

One of the main questions I got throughout the pregnancy and after was if I regret doing all this, or if I wish I been able to keep her for myself. One, I couldn't have done that if I wanted to (no legal rights), and two, I established a few years ago that I don't want any more children. So I have no yearnings or baby fever or anything like that. I'm thrilled that I was able to fulfill this dream, for them and for myself.

Would I do it again? If physically able, absolutely! I actually plan to restart the whole fun process early next year when the required six month waiting period is up. And hopefully, the process will be a little more smooth this time.

But even if something does prevent me from being a surrogate again (the most likely culprit being fibroids, which just don't seem to want to go away but thankfully weren't an issue during the pregnancy), I'm thankful I got to do it this time. And I'll never forget it.

So that part of my bucket list is officially complete.





*names changed

My Top Five Funniest Moments as a Massage Therapist

Being a massage therapist is something that some people don't even know about me, but once upon a time, it was what I did full-time. And I absolutely loved it.

I got to pretty much set my own schedule doing something I actually enjoyed, take off when I wanted to, didn't have to worry about how many PTO (paid time off) hours I had, and I wore the same thing to work every day so I didn't have to go through the headache of picking out clothes every night.

But I needed something more consistent and stable (and with benefits for me and my son), so I ended up taking a regular 9-5. I still do massage therapy on the side, but there are times that I really miss it being my main thing.

There were some times, though, when it wasn't so enjoyable. Other times when it produced OMG, freak-me-out, is-this-really-happening-right-now moments. Thankfully I can laugh at them now. *smile*

So here are my top five funniest moments as a massage therapist (in no particular order):

1. When a woman's skin came off in my hands

Okay, maybe not literally...

But when I was working at a wellness center, I was giving this woman a massage...everything was going fine...then I started to feel this strange friction, like something was rubbing off as I massaged. I looked down and my palms were almost completely black.

Talk about a freak-me-out moment. The room was dim and I tried to see what the heck it was on the back of her thighs that was coming off like that, but I swear to you, it looked completely normal. Thankfully she was lying prone (face-down) at the time so she had no idea what was going on. I just subtly wiped my hands on the sheets (leaving a significant stain) and continued on with the massage. Never said anything to her about what happened.

2. The guy with the breasts

One of the requirements in massage therapy school is getting a certain number of practice hours outside of class, so I hit up a lot of family and friends asking them to be my guinea pigs.

One guy I knew from back in the day agreed to let me practice on him. I went to his house and after we did the obligatory what's-been-going-on-with-you chat, I started getting set up while he went to get ready.

When he came down, my eyes were immediately drawn to his chest. Not because he had rock-hard pecs, but because he had perkier breasts than I do. It was the last thing I was expecting, and I had to fight to avert my eyes and keep my face neutral.

But my eyes kept straying back to them all on their own. I felt like some kind of perv.

3. When they treated my massage business like some kind of escort service

So when I was still doing mobile massages, this guy calls and asked me to come over and give him a two-hour session. Cool, no problem.

Got all my stuff, drove to his house, got set up...was all ready to get started. I noticed that he didn't seem to be in any hurry to get ready, though...he was still in his work clothes, sitting around making small talk with me. When he finally did get up and leave the room, presumably to get undressed, he came back fully-clothed, with drinks, and asking if I wanted some dinner.

Long story short, I never did give him that massage; all we did was talk and eat. He just didn't want to spend the evening by himself. And he still paid my fee.

4. When a client showed up to my house unannounced

This one wasn't all that funny at the time. I can kinda chuckle at it now, I guess.

When I was building my mobile massage business, I had the brilliant idea to put an ad online. Since I didn't have a storefront and the business was mobile, there was no need to list my address on the ad. But apparently, the rep used my home address in the listing without me realizing it.

So one night, I kept getting calls from some man, asking where I was located. I told him, repeatedly, that my business was mobile; I didn't have a salon or anything. He didn't seem to believe me, though, and after a while I just started ignoring his calls. I figured that was that.

Next thing I know, a cab pulls up in my driveway. The taxi driver knocks on the door and asks if this is where BodyBliss (the name of my mobile massage business) was located. I said no, this was my home. A man in the taxi called out that this was the address on the massage listing, and I recognized his voice as the one that had called me repeatedly earlier. I just said there must have been some kind of misunderstanding (the taxi driver agreed; he said he had told the guy he thought they were in the wrong place) and they left. I closed the door, literally shaking. OMG moment.

So I don't really do the mobile massage anymore...

5. When he got naked and expected me to get naked, too

I don't remember how I met him, but this male massage therapist and I were talking about being possible massage partners...you know, someone to trade massages with once a week or so. When you're a massage therapist, having a good massage partner is golden, because we're often giving massages more than we're getting them, and our bodies need them as much as anyone's.

So we agreed that I'd come over and we'd trade massages to see if we liked each other's styles and all that. There were some immediate red flags that should have sent me running right back out the door, by my relative naivete` at the time kept me there:

Red Flag #1: As soon as I walked through the door, he was commenting on how beautiful he thought I was. When I recalled this whole incident to one of my massage instructors later, he said I should have checked him on that right then...let him know that I was there strictly as massage therapist and I should be respected as such. At the time, I just thought it was a nice compliment.

Red Flag #2: He wasted no time getting naked. Before I had even put my stuff down, he was as naked as a raw chicken, drawing the curtains. Now, massage clients wanting to get naked is nothing new and no big deal. But they're always under a sheet...I never actually see their full-on nakedness right out in the open. But dude was just walking around hanging free like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Red Flag #3: When he was giving me my massage, he insisted I remove my bra. His reasoning was that he wanted to be able to access my entire back, and he never tried anything or touched me inappropriately, but still. That kind of thing is supposed to be up to the person getting the massage...a therapist isn't supposed to insist they remove anything they're not comfortable with (heck, I've had to massage people through jeans and t-shirts before).

Red Flag #4: The sexual-sounding moaning. If you're a fan of the shows Modern Family or Friends, you might remember episodes where Claire and Monica (respectively) were doing a lot of loud moaning and talking as they were getting massaged, as if someone was sexually pleasuring them or something. Well, that was this dude. When I was massaging him (insert another red flag here, because he didn't want to use a sheet), and I was massaging his upper inner thigh as he requested (red flag...remember, he's naked) he started doing all this moaning and writhing, as if I was giving him some kind of happy ending. If you had been listening from another room, you would swear there was some fellatio going on. Definitely an Is-this-really-happening-right-now moments.

As soon as we were done, I got my stuff and got the heck out of there. Needless to say, we didn't become massage partners after that.




After doing massage in several places for several years, there are more stories I could share, but these are definitely the top five. Fun stuff, huh? LOL


I even wrote a novel about a massage therapist, but that one isn't out yet. There are several other books on my site, though, for your enjoyment. Take a look-see here.


#loveandbooks

How Playing Sims Helps My Fiction Writing

I don't really mess with many video games; back in the day I pretty much stuck to Pac-Man and Centipede. Then later on, Super Mario Brothers and Duck Hunt.

Several years ago, I started playing Sims. And I got hooked on it.

In case you don't know what I'm talking about, Sims is a simulation game where you create the people, build (or buy) their houses, get them jobs, and pretty much control everything they do.

I've probably been playing that for about 14 years now, at least. The original, Sims 2, and Sims 3. There's Sims 4 now, but I haven't played that yet because I'm so in love with Sims 3. (Well, that, and because buying a bunch of new games really isn't in the budget right now).

                                                      

Anyway, I can play this game for hours on end, for multiple days in a row. This is part of the reason why I had to limit myself and only play on certain days. It's kind of considered a reward at the end of a long week.

I'm sure people probably think that the hours and hours I spend on this game is a waste of time. And once upon a time, I might've agreed with that. But now, I no longer see it that way.

It goes without saying that in order to write fiction, (which I do), imagination is pretty necessary. One thing I've noticed is that as I'm creating these neighborhoods and these families and all of their actions, my imagination kicks into overdrive. I get to creating all kinds of backstories about where they came from and why they do what they do, and it just makes it all the more addicting for me.

It almost becomes like a soap opera.

I'll give each character motivations that exist only in my mind...create characters for a sole purpose...incite rivalries or bonds that last as long as their little Sim lives do.

One of the awesome things about the Sims 3 is that time doesn't stand still for the other households in the neighborhood while you're playing the household of the moment. They go on living without you controlling them. And I become so invested in everything that I actually take it a little personally when something doesn't go quite the way I want it to (like when a couple that I've married off splits up behind my back).

One time, three of my characters died in a meteor crash. I could have exited out, not saved it, and gone back to how it was before that, doing my best to try to avoid that same fate happening again. But I thought it would make for better storylines (in my head) if I let it be. And I got to play with an emotion that's not terribly prevalent in the Sims: grief.

(I tell you, that one actually hurt a little bit. It's amazing how ensconced I get in this. But one of the widows became a cougar after that so...fun!).

Not only is this game entertaining for me, it's also inspiring. As I'm creating all of these elaborate scenarios and storylines for these Sims, ideas for my books start to spring forward.

It could be anything, big or small. In Take One for the Team, the character Raven was named after one of my Sims. And she was a chef, which is one of the Sims professions.

The idea for a new series began to play out in my head one day when I was playing. I'm actually going to start a new neighborhood, create the characters I have in mind, and see how some things play out. (Yes, seriously).

It's like having my own little simulated minions on screen in front of me, keeping that idea mill churning.

Playing Sims could also spark an idea that's not directly from the game, but the game served as a springboard for it. (Remember, I've used a wonderful trampoline analogy for this here.)

See there? You never know where inspiration could come from.

So, while I know I can't spend hours and hours and hours playing Sims on multiple days like I used to, it's not totally pointless when I do play it. Call it research, if you want.

 And hey, whatever works, works.

You can see how Raven turned out in Take One for the Team by ordering your copy here. Kindle or paperback. Take your pick.


#Sims