Just when I think I have enough of it figured out to not look like an idiot, the universe reminds me that she’s been around longer, seen more, done more, and that I am only the 2nd most powerful bitch in these parts.

I am not disobedient – I am command dyslexic.

So it’s 2011, and I spent the day without a Blackberry.  Apparently her being the jealous bitch that she is, she got tired of all the filthy dirty messages being sent, and she took a belly flop into the bathtub this morning.  As I told The Man – women are rarely kind to one another.

Losing use of my phone means, losing my calendar – losing the text messages that I haven’t backed up – it may also mean losing some of my contacts.  The funny thing is I am mostly ok with that.

The calendar can be recreated.  The contacts will find me when they are ready to find me, and those who are the most important to me I know their numbers, with two exceptions.

What losing the phone did was make me cope with a challenging day, without my various support systems.  I had to do it by myself.

In a given day, I have two close friends that I talk to as I meander about and handle what needs to be handled.  It is also constant open access to The Man.  Thank Mandisa for unlimited plans, if not I would have to hit the stroll AND sell Bonnie AND Clyde to pay the cell phone bill.

I realized – without my phone – that The Man and I don’t talk much during the day, but lord how I missed our text messages.

I realized without my phone – my daily stress relief session with my crush was not going to happen.

I realized without my phone I could not call my friend and shoot the shit, and secretly squirrel away something funny to be released later.  Okay well I don’t actually on purpose do that, but she thinks I do so I am going to let her have that.

I realized without my phone the mentee and I could not continue our session.  I thought we may be close to a break through, and I fear that she will retreat back into her shell with the time that has gone by.

I use my phone for many things, and part of those things is to escape from reality sometimes.  Reality is hell on wheels sometimes for me.

It was my intention this evening to talk about women.

The mentee, the psychotic one in need of medication adjustment, my best friend, Single Lades, all had me ready to talk to my sisters again, and hopefully break through to one of them.

Then the phone fell into the bathtub.

Somehow the phone and the bathtub made me realize….yeah, I don’t want to get into that today.

I want to talk about something else.

How one can change and still be the same person.

Yeah…I was kind of fucked up when that boulder fell on my forehead as well, but I will attempt to make it just a little more clear.

Last fall, I was minding my own business and living the life I’d created for myself.

It was well post The Ex, and it was post Reginald, and for the first time in a very long time, I was more than single, I was available.

There is a difference between the two…that is another blog for another time though.

A woman who I loved like a sister would call me last fall, and weep into my ear.  Not cry, weep.

She was considering taking a course of action that would be unhealthy for her, and when I pointed out the folly in her logic she said something that cut me deeply:

No one wants me.

I heard those same words again just the other day from the lips of the mentee, as SHE weeped in my eat:

No one wants me.

I got to thinking about evolution, and those two conversations, because I can clearly recall, a time when I myself weeped: No one wants me.

It was not all that long ago either.

I was bitter and lonely and I was convinced that I was so fucked up and so damaged, that I pursued someone who was not a good romantic fit for me so I would not have to be alone – I got into a relationship with a man who could never be my future so I would not have to be alone.

Because I was too afraid to weep into the ear of a friend: no one wants me. I made some poor choices, and poor decisions, that were not terribly painful to live though, but they certainly took up valuable  time in my life that I can never get back.

I’d created a niche for myself, that filled a void within me, that I was missing until The Man lassoed me.  That niche meant I was the social butterfly, and I was the star of the show.

I am still the star of the show, but my audience has changed.

I needed to be at every munch and every play party, because I needed attention.

I had to have the shortest skirt and the highest heels because I had a reputation to preserve.

I had to be the most outspoken because……well you get the point.

Then a few things happened that let me know there was a new sheriff in town, and I’d better understand how things worked now.

I’ve been out much more in the past two months than I have in the previous 7.  Not by design, but there have been so many things scheduled that I had no other option BUT to walk out of the house.

While I was outside I realized, I am dressing differently.

I went to a munch this past weekend.

I hadn’t been to this one for a while.  Roaches showed up at the last one, and I didn’t want to carry an egg home.

****Author’s Note:  There were no actual roaches….that is my term for superficial women with bad intentions who always manage to be at the center of some bullshit but will swear to the world they’ve done nothing wrong.****

So after that last visit up the turnpike, I decided that it was time to take a break.  I didn’t need to spend money to be int he company of people who meant me no good, so I would just stay home.
And I did, for months.

Then I got to missing the genuine people I’ve connected with and said fuck it….I will pack some Raid, but I am going to be with my peeps.

I am going to Paddles, one of my favorite places, and I am going to have a good time!

And I did…..mostly.

It was a great dinner, and as the plates started to dwindle, and the lime juice got to flowing, it occurred to me, I should go home.

Now if you’ve known me for any length of time, you know how difficult it is to keep me out of Paddles, but I thought…I should go home.

The sitter was set until a certain time on Sunday, and The Man would be getting in his door about 3:45, I thought…if I hit the turnpike now, we can have the sunrise together.

I let two smart and sexy ladies convince me to come into the dungeon…and the lure of electricity ALMOST got me to stay.

I sat and watched the happenings, I did a little groping — hey it’s ME after all there WILL BE fondling — and I looked around and thought…I love this place, but what I have at home is much better.

So I made a quiet exit, and made it back to Philly in record time.

Sunrise comes early in July peeps…I’m just sayin’

The evolution here?

My time in the spotlight that I created for myself, could be essentially over.

I don’t have to jump up and down and say LOOK AT ME!!! There is someone who does nothing BUT look at me, and I’ve never felt more beautiful.

If you think I am joking….to prove my point?  I wore flats Saturday.  Yes I own a pair of flats!

I had to talk to The Man and explain what I was feeling.

I think the term I eventually came up with was content and distressed at the same time.

I struggled early on last fall with holding onto the life I’d created.  I told all who would listen, I may be His, but I will not CHANGE!

I thank all who did listen for not laughing in my face and saving the chuckle for when I was out of earshot.

I haven’t exactly changed…I am still a bitch…but I am His bitch.

Being His bitch means that the things I used to value so much, take a backseat to my appreciation of Him.

Will there be other trips up the turnpike? Yes, and some of them will include The Man.  I no longer

H A V E 

to travel the turnpike, that is the difference.

That is the evolution.

That is a beautiful thing.