The Skinny Black Girl

(Originally published May 2011)

So I’ve been officially uninvolved for a year now. (FYI, I prefer “uninvolved” over single, because one can be single and still have interested parties who will cut or e-stalk you for dealing them). In this time, I’ve dipped into and out of the dating game; nothing too serious, just entertaining the occasional offer of good meals, drinks, and conversation. Prior to last year, I was always the girl who either had a main or a strong option on deck somewhere, not because I was thirsty but because, well, to be honest, dudes loved SBG like pornos and XBox. What can I say? There was just something about a girl next door type with a quick tongue and a deep appreciation of sports and hip-hop that would render the fellas smitten. Ya girl had G, people.

As I look onto the landscape of the dating game, things have changed. A lot. Or maybe they were always this way, and I just never sweated it because I always had CJ or somebody in the wings thinking I was the bee’s knees. Anywhoo, what I’ve noticed is that the standards for dateable women have gone through the roof. Unbeknownst to me, between ages 26-29, dating becomes a cutthroat game of musical chairs, with everyone scrambling toward available partners to avoid standing alone at 30 when the music stops. Cute, quirky, and smart with good conversation is not cutting it anymore. You’ve got to be wife material to even get to the first date. Cause you know, dating for fun, is soooo childish. Folks have to know things could end at the altar or at least family court, before they decide to be bothered.

For women, this means if you’re not a Michelle Obama-Roxy Reynolds-Martha Stewart hybrid with Stacey Dash’s looks, Christina Millian’s natural curl pattern, Amber Rose’s shoe game, and the Virgin Mary’s body count, invest in cats, a good vibrator, and a Netflix subscription boo, cuz you ain’t gettin’ chose.

Okay maybe I’m exaggerating. I hope I am I honestly, but it feels like every time I log on to some social media platform, I see a new reason why I need to get extra comfortable with the idea of rolling dolo. So today I present: Ten Reasons Why SBG Ain’t Gettin’ Chose.

1. I believe in platonic male-female friendships and remain cool with my exes and former flames. – Apparently, this makes me naive or a ho. Either way, I’m not to be trusted and thus will remain unchose.

2. None of my shoes or bags cost more than $150. – Expensive gear is key in determining bad bitch status. My Plain Jane ass needs to have a seat next to the girls with the unibrows and orthopedic kicks, cause no choosing is going on over there.

3. I don’t need to be a wife, nor want to be a mother. – What kind of woman dreams of anything more than taking care of a family? A selfish bitch, an amoral whore, a woman who wants to be a man, or some sad little girl with daddy issues, that’s who. I may be able to get the pipe, but I ain’t gettin’ chose.

4. I can only cook about five meals. And I’m okay with that. – The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. A chick who ain’t about that whipping up a full Thanksgiving  dinner by herself life is only getting hard dick and bubblegum out here.

5. I like to sleep in big drawls and don’t wear matching underwear. – Who cares if loose, soft, white cotton is good for vaginal health? Not sleeping in thongs or boyshorts? Not rocking a cute set from Vickie’s or Target? Direct thineself to the nearest rocking chair and take this needle and thread with you, SBG. Knit booties for the children of women getting chose.

6. I let my nail polish get chipped. – Who cares if it’s clear polish? Unchosen slob.

7. I will walk down a street and find more than one man attractive. I may even undress a few of them with my eyes. – Hoes don’t get chose, B.

8. I’m too laid back. – Because really, who trusts men to behave like adults on their own merit? How will a man know I really care about him if I’m not watching his every move, Jackie Christie style? Crazy = adoration. Take your too cool ass on somewhere, SBG.

9. I like sports and hip-hop too much. – These used to be strong suits. Now? Uh-uh. I’m faking to get close to men so I can whore it up. What other reason would I have for enjoying rap music and professional sports?

10. I can have sex with a man without wanting to commit to him. – If you’ll have sex with a guy without hearing wedding bells, then you’re just gonna go around fucking everybody. And as we’ve already established, hoes don’t get chose.

So yes ladies and gentlemen, the former Slim Goodie Man Magnet is no more. At 27, I’m prepping for life as an old maid. Thus far, this consists of stocking up on the following: DVDs of my favorite TV shows, granny panties and flannel night gowns, a lifetime supply of boxed wine and frozen dinners, Zane and Mary B. Morrison novels, and a Rabbit.

I’m kidding, by the way. Dudes still love me like pornos and Xbox. Furthermore, I fully intend to grow old taking and then disposing of younger lovers of various nationalities like my hero Halle Berry. Ya’ll will say I’m crazy and can’t keep a man, I’ll prance around in bikinis and pull your young hot male cousins, and we’ll all have a good laugh.

Don’t forget, I’m nominated for Best Personal Blog in the Black Weblog Awards! Like what you read today? GO VOTE!!