What I Know About 30: Random Thoughts of an Almost 31 Year Old Girl

I wrote this on the eve of my 31st Birthday. 30 went by so fast that I didn't realize it was over until my mom asked me how the year went. This entry is a reflection of that conversation, a random list of things I've learned this year from living my life and being surrounded by all my 1982 babies out there..




30 is not the age where life starts to make sense and you finally start to get your shit together, it's actually the complete opposite; you're shit isn't together, but you know what shit you need to do to get your shit right. It's the number where you start questioning life and your purpose. 30 is the number you reflect on that last decade of life either with joy or regret, it's the space where you know better and try to do better. 30 is not the "New 20" and it is not "old" as the 18 year old you once thought.

You go from buying bottles of Ciroc at the club to budgeting your money for things other than vodka and VIP tables. You drink but you know when to stop, you keep your shoes on and you drink your drinks out of real glasses. Nights of clubbing are replaced with early happy hours and trying to get 5 hours of sleep to look decent for your regular gig.

By the time you've reached this age you've swarn off love at least 3 times but deep down you still believe it in; eye candy is giving you a headache and you're probably ready for someone of substance in your life.

30 is when you start investing room in your closet for the bridesmaids dresses you accumulate, and you go to divorce parties. You go from road trips with 23 of your "best girlfriends" to weekend get aways with your sister-girl crew of 4. You lose many friends to time, life changes and falling outs.
Your friends may be fewer but your bonds are stronger.

You realize your parents won't live forever, you hug them longer, call more often, appreciate your family a little more than you did when you left for college and thought they were evil and trying to ruin your life. You can finally admit to yourself that, "Mom was right.". You've grown up, but you still have lots more to do.

Music played on mainstream radio starts not to make sense with your lifestyle. You find yourself reaching back to the melodies of your childhood. You are starting not to understand pop culture terms but you are ok with it, you still look cool. You check your face for wrinkles and scan your scalp for gray hairs; you secretly get excited when you get carded. You don't fall asleep in your makeup anymore... unless you're trying to relive your 20s, after that one night you come back to the reality you can't hang like you used to...and you are ok with that.

Being called "Ma'am" makes you feel old, the boy at the bar  hitting on you born in 1990 makes you feel flattered, and there is still something weird about that man you want to love down that born in the 70s. You feel odd about shopping at Forever21 and you begin to appreciate Anne Klein.

You become ok with eating a nice meal alone and  the idea of solo vacations don't freak you out.
You begin to feel comfortable in your skin; you know your strengths, accept your flaws and excude confidence in your worth. You finally see the beauty inside of you.


You quit your job.
You buy a house.
You go natural.
You get out of that relationship that's going nowhere.
You go after your dreams.
You say "eff this!" and you just do it.
Everyone thinks your crazy.
You are exactly where you are supposed to be.

30 is exactly life: It is truly whatever you want it to be.



















 30 is 30, that's all it is.

Taste Buds

I still taste you on my lips.
The sweet words spoken
contrasting against the salt on your skin.

I wish I could kiss the cool off you
Unbutton your mind and make you stay awhile..
At least to give me time to un-code the way
you look at me when I look into your eyes.

I want to whisper in your ear
and erase any doubt in your mind
that I just want you.

In your hands I feel your strength,
In your kiss I feel your heart,

But you don't see what I see

Why can't you be beautiful to me? 

I still taste you on my lips.

The pleasure it gives accompanied

with the painful reality that I will never 

truly have your heart. 

I want you so bad.

I know I'm not the one,

I feel it in my bones

but you tastes so good to my heart

that I will just keep tasting

until you are gone. 

Living In The Moment...

I believe the world would be a better place if more women learned to live in the moment. Living in the moment does not mean "YOLOing" or doing something that makes you question your ethics, it means soaking in the situation of now without over analyzing it.

I wish more women would just chill out and live in the conversations struck up by sexy gentlemen instead of sizing them up. Sometimes "hello" just means "hello" not, "hello I'm trying to see you naked". Are we as a race of women so jaded that we believe every guy that speaks to us at a bar is trying to sex us up? Even if he is, what's wrong with some harmless flirting for a couple of minutes while you finish your wine? Exactly!

We beat ourselves up for making out with that guy we lust over but has no boyfriend potential, and we over analyze the reasons the perfect yet boring guy never called back. We replay these situations over and over again trying to uncover the rhyme and reason; our hearts ache to find purpose and meaning in actions and unspoken words, and we fail to see that situations aren't always that deep. Society already beats us up enough, Ladies. Don't stress yourself out about things you can't control. All we can do is control the controllables and in these types of situations we can control our outlook .

I'm not saying that we should just say eff it and go on an emotionless joy ride and forget about the consequences of our actions. I'm saying sometimes we just have to savor the crazy moments, the sexy man, the awesome kiss and random joy rides that life brings. Its pretty hard to smile everyday when you're constantly digging for deeper meanings for shit. Chill...

I can't hold forever in my hand. All I can do is grasp the day, digest the feelings and take the warm fuzzy memories with me for the cold moments in life. Girlfriend, I suggest you do the same...


Much Love,

Angie Dapper
http://www.thedapperdiary.com
@thedapperdiary

A Midnight Love

He says he loves me. At the bottom of my soul I feel that he does. At least the optimism of my inner child believes him, and that's why I stay chained to the assumption that one day he can love me the way I need to be loved.

Although we believe "love" to be a verb, our defining actions contrast like the stars shining in a cold winter night's sky. I give him my heart, he gives me his body and we constantly fight to extract the antonym from each other.

As I lay in this bed, staring at his bedroom ceiling, clutching these sheets as he blissfully snores next to me, I try to pretend like I know this is not just a physical thing. I just wish he would take me out of the emotional misery and tell me this relationship is purely sex related and nothing more, but my being just wants to believe its so much more.

His pillow is comfy but my unsettled mind can't let me lay in what it thinks is a lie. This bed too small to hold my pride so I dress myself with little dignity I have left, kiss is dimpled cheek and fade to black like the darkness in the room. I wish my heart could agree with the doubts of my mind, but they are controlling the legs that are propelling me towards my car and away from him.

The sun is rising, the sky clear like my destination home, but my heart is blurred; my vision is distracted from the glare of light. Although I know where I'm going I feel so lost.

I stand in the driveway of the house and cry letting the sunshine reign over the cloudiness in my mind; my heart remains heavy with the thoughts of midnight love. I enter my room, take my dignity off and lay comfortably in my confusion and pride alone.

I now stare at my own ceiling, cuddling my own sheets wondering if he woke up wondering if I "love" him too...

Ripping Away The Staircase: My Journey To Owning A Home

Sitting at the top of my stairs with a crow bar in my hand and my face covered in sweat, I feel the tears flowing out of my eyes out as I look up at the skylight shining down on floors of my newly purchased home. A combination of pride, sleep deprivation and taking a minute to sit down and look at the carpet I just pulled up induced the river flowing down my face. I never thought I'd make it to the top of this staircase.

It's been a long climb to the view at the top. I've had to let go of a comfortable lifestyle, people, habits and mindsets to get here. I've had to fight against the weight of other's doubts and learn to have faith in the next step even when I couldn't see it. There was no time for crying, complaining, or doubting myself; I couldn't wait for validation or for people to buy into my dream; I couldn't wait for marriage or for someone to hold my hand.... I just had to climb.

Nobody told me how emotional this climb was going to be. I never imagined myself loosing sleep over my offers not being accepted, stressing over shades of paint, or straight having an emotional breakdown when my mom asked, "how's the house hunting going?". I never planned on being super single, 30, and purchasing a house alone. While it would have been awesome to do this with a significant other, the glory of this moment reminds me that I can do ANYTHING I put my mind to. With the support of my loved ones, being a single girl scratching and clawing for this dream wasn't so lonely. Every time I wanted to give up, my family and friends wouldn't let me. They gave me the encouragement I needed to keep going when I just wanted to walk away. By God's grace and pure grit I got this house and the tools I needed to physically and spiritually rip the old off this path.

As I sit here inhaling this moment my tears dry and my heart fills with the feeling of accomplishment. I finished this project with my own hands; I'm proud.

The moment has come and gone; celebration time is over. I put my crow bar down, took my construction gloves off and walked down my exposed stair case. At the bottom once again, I feel the warmth of the sun on my tired body. It's time to start climbing all over again.


Much Love,


Angie Dapper

@thedapperdiary

http://www.thedapperdiary.com

From Ms. to Mrs.: 'Bout That Life?

Every time I go to my refrigerator, pull out my Simply Lemonade and drink it straight from the bottle, I read all of the wedding invitations pinned by "save the date" magnets on my refrigerator door, and wonder:

Do I really want to be married?

It's something I've secretly asked myself since I started dating at 14 and at the age of 30, I still don't know. Growing up with parents who have been together and happily married for 30 plus years you'd think I'd be down to be a "Mrs." but I don't know if that's my style.

I really thought as I got older my doubts would dwindle and I would for sure be concrete in my stance on marriage but I'm not. I've tried to fake myself into the whole "I deserve marriage" state of mind but it never works. The scariest thing a man can play about with me is marriage.

By no means am I a woman scorned or a chick that thinks love is for the birds. I love, love and I think commitment is great but I know marriage requires much more than that to make it work. If I'm not willing to do the work it takes, why waste a poor man's life trying?

When I express this feeling to people around me (mostly women) they get super emotional and say things like, " Don't give up hope!" and "You just haven't met the right guy. Don't be so negative.". It's like admitting my doubts about marriage being in my life plan make me seem cynical about love, (which is not the case). I seriously doubt I'm the only women in this world that feels this way; I don't understand why their is so much backlash when I talk openly about this topic. Men have doubts, why can't women?

I spent my 20s as a professional bridesmaid dreaming about when it was going to be my turn to walk down the aisle in a white dress. I've watched my girlfriends one by one fall in love, get married and have babies. I've seen my homies give up the bachelor pads and crazy nights in the city for wives and 2 story houses in the burbs. At this point I'm almost the last one standing. It's not because I can't find anyone, and it's not because I am jaded, I really don't know if I'm bout that "Mrs. Life".

I love that my friends are finding love and marriage in the traditional sense and I'm happy that I get invited to celebrate. Maybe one day my wedding invitation will be plastered on their refrigerator, who knows (because I surely don't)? However my life turns out, just know it will be filled to the brim with love.



Much Love,

Angie Dapper
@thedapperdiary
http://www.thedapperdiary.com

No More “Mister Niceguy”: A Culture Mourns by The Sensible Gent

*This entry is the first of many from some of the coolest, most creative people in my life. Today's post is brought to you by one of my writing partners, The Sensible Gent himself, Mr. Johnnie Brooks, II! Enjoy! 

No More “Mister Niceguy”: A Culture Mourns 

by The Sensible Gent

Dearly Beloved,

We are gathered here today to pay our last respects and celebrate the life of a man once highly revered as the man every woman wanted; the man every woman prayed for. The man every father respected and every mother adored, the Gentleman better known as Mister Niceguy. He came in the world a product of good teaching from his parents. He opened doors, pulled out chairs, opted for courting instead of trying to get it in on the first date – even though it was something he would’ve LOVED. He greeted you with “Excuse me” instead of “Ayo, Shorty” and he won your heart the moment you made his acquaintance. He surprised you with sweet texts and notes, always remembered your birthday and made sure to extend his wishes once the clock struck midnight; he sent you flowers. All of this made you blush and feel like how you always wanted to. Little did he know, his time in your world would not be for much longer.

He was tossed to the wayside once the “ruffneck” and “thug” stepped back on the scene. They offered little but carnal pleasure compensated for everything else they lacked. MNG quickly was placed into the friend zone only to then be called occasionally for lunch or brunch and asked to give his “male point of view” on the new friend you’re dating and why he’s not acting right, all the while tucking his pain and disgust, wanting to shake while screaming – “Chick! You wouldn’t be having this problem if you just open your fucking eyes and see what’s in front of you!” His pain only grew when met with those sweet cruel words…”I just wish he could be like you.” Even with this disappointment, he still offered his shoulder to cry on when that thug broke your heart for the third time. However, he was met with heartbreak yet again when you chose to take him back after he gave you some sloppy ass apology.

He tried to ease his pain with other women wondering what was it about him that made him invisible in your eyes, but he would never find the answer. MNG began to sink into a deep depression not thinking his kind was appreciated anymore. Suicidal thoughts began to enter his mind. “Maybe if I became an asshole, I could finally get their attention.” Never taken seriously, he was often told to never change and stay just the way he was. This brought him little comfort. He began to fade out of view only making appearances at grocery stores and mutual friends’ parties. It was shortly after that we were met with the tragic news that MNG perished alone with no friends or family.

Ladies, was there anything you could’ve done to stop this? This is a question that on the surface seems silly but really is valid. What was it about MNG that made you see him as no more than “the heterosexual male BFF”. Is there anything MNG could’ve done to not have died such a horrible death? These questions could have been answered sooner and would have prevented such a tragic outcome.

Unfortunately, all of this is futile as we lay Mister Niceguy to rest. Farewell, good sir. You were cherished, forgotten, and abused. Hopefully, one day soon, you will be missed.

- TSG

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