Let's Go on a Date...

For once, I'd love to be asked out by a guy that is single. 

I want him to be all nervous about the date (and so will I!). 

He'll make an effort, get dressed, smell nice, speak proper, great breath. 

He'll pick me up on time, make plans for a fun evening. 

He'll take me to a nice restaurant with great food (not a joint) where we'll both get to talk and eat by ourselves, not joined by any of his homeboys. 

We'll have small banter (at first) where he won't reveal to me that he just happens to be married. 

We'll talk about the future, current interests, favorite movies. No politics! No sexual innuendo!! No time spent on our phones!!! 

In the end, he'll take me home where he won't attempt to kiss me and call me soon after to thank me for a lovely evening, hoping that we could get to do it again. 

And I would say, "Yes, I'd really like that!"

Let me summarize the point of the daydream that may or may not have perked y'all's interests...especially as this is a blog about being single. The point of it is not to say, 'oh, woe me I'm single.' I celebrate the single life, that's the point of ...Anita Writes. 

I would just like the men to have a little more respect for women. There's no thrill anymore in dating. No chase, no fascination, no wonder. It's all, "if you don't like what I'm selling, there are plenty women who would, so next." Men don't seem to realize there's a difference between quality and quantity. I've gone on dates where it's all so stupid: guy can't hold an intellectual conversation or invites his homies to come along so they can assess me, or it's just an intro into sex: he starts talking about how many women he has in his harem. Sex and Stupidity. That's the recipe for dating in this Pop Culture/ Social World Age. It is riddled with Sex and Stupidity. 

For once, I'll just like a date that is not filled with that much B.S. 

Romance and What If's. 

A Rural Piece of My Neighborhood

Today.

The neighborhood kiosk lady perched in front of the seemingly abandoned plot of land to the left of my flat - you know those tiny shops that peddle petty household goods under a makeshift shack by the gutter, and indirectly live there because there's a plot of land that is either wrapped in civil litigation or the owner has run out of money needed to develop it further. Yes, that type of kiosk!

This young lady's baby could not stop crying. Today, it seemed louder than usual. That baby was wailing at the top of its' lungs. The shriek filled the noon time desolate streets. You could hear him 10 houses away cutting through the noise of the air conditioners. This baby wanted to be heard, screeching its tiny lungs out. This was not new to me. I often hear the wails everyday and wondered, "Yes, I'd cry too, it's too damn hot or cold or rainy or cloudy or undetermined" or whatever weather or climate it was. But today there was no power (light), so the baby wailed, from the heat, the dust from the motorists speeding by aimlessly pretending to get on with their day, the dismal state of the economy, the fact that his mum has to do this for a living...the possibilities for tears were endless. This baby cried.

I walked over to his mum to inquire of the baby's gender. To my astonishment, discovered that this wailing toddler is in fact...male. Puzzled, I thought only women cried, loudly too from the travails of being born in a world where your gender immediately classifies you as inferior, a sub-class, and having to shoulder that prejudice in every facet of this misogynistic world. I assumed men bore the brunt of life and left us to act emotional. I looked into his eyes and I could read everything he was upset about, and in my stare I agreed with him completely.

"This is my life now and for that there is simply no joy."

When I came back home hours later, he was still crying. Somehow, so was I.

---#AnitaWrites #ObservationsfromaSingleLife #ThirdWorldProblems