The Brain, the Heart & the Vagina

“Here's my philosophy on dating. It's important to have somebody that can make you laugh, somebody you can trust, somebody that you know turns you on... And it's really, really important that these three people don't know each other.”~ Brooke Davis

         Sometimes, I don’t think one man will be able to live up to my expectations. And like one blog commenter stated, “expectations lead to disappointment.” So once upon a time, long, long ago, I decided to live nonchalantly and date carefree. In that moment, I came across three men, who combined made the perfect man.

The Brain

          A mind is a terrible thing to waste. But so many men do exactly that by wasting their God given brain by selling drugs, gang-banging, dropping out of school, or entering prison.  In this dating era, I feel it is a blessing to encounter someone who is able to use his intelligence to his advantage, and can engage in thought-provoking conversation. Lucky me, I met “J.R.R. Tolkien”.

J.R.R. and I had great dates, and future plans to go to museums, Broadway plays, and travel the world together.  But if someone looked in on our relationship, they would think all we did was argue. However, to us, we had great debates.  What I appreciated about J.R.R. was that he mentally challenged me to think outside the box. With J.R.R., I could talk politics, philosophy, world history, and law.  Although he was intellectual, he was surprisingly very relatable, and involved in his community.  I admired J.R.R. because he truly wanted to use his intelligence for good in order to make a difference in his hometown community. I truly believed together, we would make a power couple who would change the world. I could see him winning mayor or governor and myself becoming the mayor’s or the governor’s wife.

However, J.R.R.’s brilliance didn’t read very well into the bedroom.  I tried to give him guidance, but for someone so smart, he was unable to follow my helpful directions.  I even explained to J.R.R. the importance of listening to each other’s needs. Although he agreed with me, his words never amounted to action. In the end, I no longer wanted to have sexual relations with him because he could not stimulate me sexually like he did mentally.  My lack of sexual desire for him turned us both off.  And my dreams of being a power couple slowly came to a halt.  I wasn’t sad. Instead, I continued to ride the roller coaster until I couldn’t ride anymore.  Even though my brain was satisfied, the truth was that my heart belonged to someone else.

The Heart

           It has been my experience that when my heart becomes involved, my brain and my heart become enemies.  My brain gives my heart logical explanations, none of which my heart wants to hear. And even though I tried to make my brain forget about him, my heart remembered who he was. My heart never lets me forget.  He shall remain a "mystery". 

          In my eyes, what we had was beyond lust. It wasn’t shallow.  We had a great friendship where I could tell him anything. We connected. What we had meant the world to me, but apparently just me. My heart was caught up and left unprotected, which subjected me to experience both joy and pain.  Joy because whenever we spent time together, I was happy being with him.  I put down my guard, and I shared with him my highs and lows and my strengths and weaknesses.  I never masked who I was. With him, I never had too.  Too many, I appear complex and mean, but he was for the most part, always able to see through me. 

With him, I saw a great big smile, and a warm heart.  We didn’t have profound conversations, but he was smart enough to comprehend the underlying messages of all my witty jokes. I saw so much potential in him and in us.  However, my heart failed to come to grips that potential sometimes can’t suffice. Furthermore, my heart refused to accept his imperfections. Instead my heart tried to compensate his faults by only focusing on his good qualities.

We had so many highs. But with the highs, there were so many lows.  Eventually the lows were outnumbering the highs. Just when I thought we were at a great point, he would always do something to leave me in despair and disappointment.  My heart strings were pulling so hard that I couldn’t think straight.  I wanted us to work out, more than he will ever know. But in the end, we had to part ways. Me, with a broken heart! Broken heart equals me in emotional pain. In looking back, I stayed to long. I naively hoped he would realize what we had.

“People always leave…but sometimes they come back.” (Peyton Sawyer). But even though people come back, I had to realize that it does not mean the person has changed or I have changed. Leopards don’t change their spots, they only re-arrange their spots.  Sometimes failure to change can lead us back down the same upsetting road. Although it led me back into frustration, it was nothing like the first time. Because this time, I had a brainiac to provide me with great conversation and great dates.  Moreover, I had my vagina….

The Vagina

          “Mr. Clean” is the nickname I gave my frienemy. From a far, he seemed like the ideal candidate for me.  But regrettably, my wholesome Mr. Clean was whoresome.  Prior to my conclusion of his whorish tendencies, I had several business encounters with him.  He conducted himself very professional; he was very well-spoken and appeared to be bright. However, I wasn’t sure if he was down to earth or could let loose.  

So when I saw him at the club, I was initially shocked to see him. However, he showed me that he could definitely let loose.  When we danced, it was like we were having sex on the dance floor. I realized I didn’t know him but I had to have him. From our dirty dancing, I realized he understood me sexually.  I doubted that I would ever need to give him sexual instructions on how to please me.  So when he asked to come over after the club, I used my brain over my vagina, and passed up his offer.  

A few weeks after our club encounter, I was able to conclude my Mr. Clean was a whore.  Even though he was a whore, I decided to use his services to benefit my vagina.  I rationalized my vagina deserved to be treated to some good sexual maintenance to help me heal my broken heart.  So I hired him in order for my vagina to reap in some sexual gratification.

We were definitely sexually compatible!  From the moment we took our clothes off, he was able to satisfy me without me having to coach him. The sexual services he rendered made me forget my broken heart. But sometimes good sex comes with consequences like lust. Many women, including myself can mistake lust for something else. Now I wasn’t in love, but Mr. Clean did intrigue me. Although I didn’t know him completely well, Mr. Clean liked to have share time, where we would converse after sex. During our pillow talks, I managed to get some insight on the guy I was sleeping with.  But getting to know him was actually why I could never fall in love with him. We share a similar trait (which I will reveal in another blog) that can be both good or bad. With Mr. Clean, this trait is unchecked. So I know I could never give my heart to someone else with this quality.  And I don’t fault him because I think we are two peas in a pod.

Conclusion

           With these three men, I created the perfect man. I was stimulated mentally, emotionally and sexually.  From the experiences of myself and other women, I find that it is a difficult search, finding a man who can gratify my brain, my heart and my vagina.  Hell, it is a process just to find a good man, let alone the right man with whom I am actually compatible with.  It has been my experience that many well respectable and intelligent men can’t hold it down in the bedroom while men who are assholes can lay down the pipes. Sex is great, but sex will only take you so far. But at the same time, if you don’t have sparks in the bedroom, it can lead you looking elsewhere to find that spark.  So what is a woman to do? I am still figuring that out because I like to have my cake and eat it too.

          Question, if you have to choose two out of the three (the brain, the heart, and the vagina), what would the two be? Men substitute vagina with penis.

* Dedicated to my Cleo roomie, "Dude It's Me" because we are just a like. Double trouble!

Bar Exam Vent of Frustration

People think that I must be a very strange person. This is not correct. I have the heart of a small boy. It is in a glass jar on my desk.” ~ Stephen King

Lay people to me are people who have not taken a state or federal bar exam. I hate how lay people don’t understand the stress and the anxiety of the bar exam.  While studying for the bar exam, I was blown away with comments that made me see red.  I remember one comment distinctly, “You are smart so I know you have it in the bag!” What the fuck? Did I say I was taking an SAT test or a spelling bee quiz? No, I did not! Everyone taking the bar has some type of intelligence or they would not be taking the bar exam. Here I was competing against them.  I did not have it in the “bag”. I had to memorize darn near 22 subjects, and everything was jumbling in my head. I took practice multiple choice tests, and most of my answers were wrong. Do you know how frustrating that feels? Do you know how it feels to sit in a law school library for two months for twelve hours a day, and not feel like your test performance is improving? It breaks you down physically and mentally.

I watched my good friend burst into tears of stress. I thought to myself, how the hell do I comfort this girl when I can’t even comfort myself?  What do I tell her that will make her feel better when I do not believe things will be better? I had to force myself to reach over and hug her when I didn’t have the physical strength or the emotional compassion to actually do so. I could not give her words of encouragement because I didn’t feel encouraged. I felt like putting on my Sinclair voice from Living Single and saying, “Woo, woo, everything will be fine” was a lie.  I could not help her because I could not help myself.

I never felt so angry in my entire life. I literally felt like I was a ticking time bomb. Every day I walked to school, I secretly dared someone to accidentally shove me or bump into me. Please, give me a reason to let off steam. The prior Tae Kwon Do lessons and UFC moves that I learned were about to be unleashed onto someone.  My once smiling face was no more. I felt worse than I did when I pledged the best African American sorority in spring 2002. And for those who actually pledged, would you volunteer to do it over again?  I wouldn’t.  If I thought the bar exam was worse than pledging then you know that this exam is not something I want to repeat.  So the pressure was on for me to the do the best that I could even though I felt my best was not good enough.  

To put the cherry on the cake, the bar exam took place on my birthday. It was the worse birthday ever where I took the harshest part of the bar which was the multiple choice test. The multiple choice test could have been in Russian because I had no clue as to half the answers to the questions on the test.  After the bar exam, I felt like I was a completely different person. I was not me. I felt like a zombie. I was completely broken down from the bar exam. All I could do was question my performance day after day, everyday of my two month waiting period. The waiting game for the bar results is pure mental torture.

I do not know what I would do if it wasn’t for my fellow bar exam takers, Simone Leora and Isabella Collier (who lives on Grant Avenue). I feel like the only people who understand my bar torment are those who have undergone the bar exam.  I hear my family and friends tell me, “You can take the bar again if you don’t pass” or “So and so took the bar three times before she or he passed”. Are these the best words of wisdom or comfort? I get that if I don’t pass the bar, the world won’t come to an end, but my world will come crashing down. I understand I have my life and health, but I still won’t have a damn job. As my frienemy, Mr. Clean slyly said, “You may have graduated, but you are not a practicing lawyer.” Thus no bar exam, no practice law… comprende! Sure, you are probably thinking, but you don’t even want to practice law.   Not the point, I went through law school despite not having a passion for law.  So if I saw law school through then I want to see the bar through.  It’s a freaking recession out there in the real world.  Hence, beggars cannot be choosers.  Therefore, having a liscense to practice law ups my chances in being hired for a job, well so I hope.

I guess taking the bar and not passing is like my ex -factor, Chiron Harmer telling me that he was not ready for a relationship…heartbreaking!  Yes, failing the bar would feel like someone I love, woke up one day and randomly told me he no longer loved me back. Can you imagine the pain you would feel if the person you gave your heart to suddenly ups and leaves you? And you don’t know why they left you. The same feeling of hurt, disappointment and heartache is exactly how I would feel if I did not pass the bar.  So like all heartbreaks, I feel like I would be justified in bitching, crying and grieving because I am mourning a loss. I have to cry and deal with my personal struggle of mentally preparing myself to be mind-fucked all over again. Hell, I am justified for my pre-bitching for fear of rejection. And if I have to mourn, no words of uplift are going to bring me out of my sorrows especially not from a lay person who has no comprehension of what it feels like to be fucked over by the bar.

If someone asked me for my advice on how to handle a person who is going through the bar exam process, I would tell them be weary of what you say because us bar exam takers cannot see the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.  Yes, we know we are smart, but the bar exam can trick us into believing we are idiots. The frustration of not being able to recall all 22 subjects or more can be frustrating and we start to panic.  Hell, I felt like I was the Titanic slowly sinking.  And when it was all said and done, I was more like Leonardo DiCaprio, drowning in the cold water. Okay, he froze to death but you get my analogy.   So like Leonardo, we need some type of life vest and warmth to keep us afloat.  We know you lay people do not get it, but simple things like listening in silence while we vent about how much is sucks is nice. Hugs, lots of hugs are great and a shoulder for us to cry on is greatly appreciated.  If you are a lover to a bar exam taker, be on call to have lots of sex.  We need lots of sex.  Sex will make us a lot nicer, and it relieves the stress.  These are just a few suggestions but are not limited.

Soon, I will know if PA has taken pity on me and admitted me to the bar. If they shun me, please know, I will be a miserable bitch in mourning. My phone will be off and my facebook disabled.  And if you are saying, don’t you think you are being dramatic, then you sit for three days or more for six hours and take a bar exam. Oh you probably won’t be, so don’t judge what is dramatic and what is not!  Because once you’ve taken the bar exam then you will know just how fucked up this test is. I am sure you are thinking, well I have taken tests before, but whatever tests you have taken, I will do it in my sleep (exception medical exams).  So unless you are in the medical field or law field, do not say that either because many bar exam takers are laughing thinking the same thing I stated above. 

I know this blog is raw. I am just venting my fears and frustrations. It feels like a dark and lonely place when there aren’t many people who can relate to you.  I feel like next Friday is D day. I toss and turn with dread and worry. I pop sleeping pills just to get to sleep. I just pray I don’t have to face three days of misery again next February.  Well please wish me luck, and pray for me because I am sure no one wants my evil alter ego, Ninibeanie Queen Meanie to rear her ugly head one more time.