I am starting to feel like a minority. As the clock ticks away towards the big 3-0, I am becoming more and more authentic and singular. The truth seems to fall from my lips without prompting (Wuddup Kanye!) and my wants/needs march forth unapologetically. I love this space but it seems that every time I begin looking for a significant other............Masquerade.
WTF?!?!? I am beautiful, black, and broke. There. You have it. I have a stunning apartment overlooking the East River, a closet full of clothes from Europe, a MAJOR personal trainer, a career on the rise, friends that I adore, and a wonderful social agenda. AND IM BROKE. No Masquerade here. It is what it is. I don't mind telling my entire truth because it doesn't define me. It's of the moment. Why are so many of the men I meet into creating personas that don't hold up to even mild scrutiny? If I meet one more investment banker/grocery store clerk, or bartending film director, I may run and jump. Masquerade. Where is the honesty people? Oh what a tangled web we weave....
I guess I have spent some time at the Ball. I admit it. Searching feverishly through the costume clad throng for Mr. Right (or Mr. Right-Now). But Scooby at 22 and Scooby at 29 are terribly different. Modern Me just can't do it anymore. The new me requires an unmasked hero. Think Incredible Hulk instead of Batman. LOL!
Well, Im still open and willing. I don't know where he is but his openness, and level of honesty will be tested and proven before he gets anywhere with me. I've entertained too many bogus Masquerade stars and would rather investigate the Masquerade rejects now... Hmmm, Never thought I would be this happy to be on the OTHER side of the velvet rope...
As always, cover and flank me in your prayers as you can be assured I am doing the same 4 you
Scoobydu
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