If It Walks Like An Ass, Talks Like An Ass, Looks Like An Ass… It’s An Asshole! Part 1

Disclaimer:  If you are a man who is born and raised in Carson, CA or anywhere close to that area.  Please do NOT read this post.  You will be offended…  


I get so tired of TV shows, movies, books, etc. making it seem like it is so hard for a black woman to meet a man and go on a damn date. That is absolute bullshit. And some Simpletons are actually buying into that foolishness. STOP!

It was nice to have a little break and have a little bit of consistency with one person.  But then again, a part of me missed the excitement and the newness of meeting someone new.  I am keenly aware this is only because the last person really wasn’t the right person.  I must believe that when it’s right it’s right.  If I’ve said it once I have said it time and time again.  I get so tired of TV shows, movies, books, etc. making it seem like it is so hard for a black woman to meet a man and go on a damn date.  That is absolute bullshit.  And some Simpletons are actually buying into that foolishness.  STOP!  Going on dates is the easy part.  Meeting your soul mate, well that’s a different story.  If you’re willing to be patient and have faith along the journey you will meet the right man.  All in due time.  Anyway, I am already digressing.

I was set up on a set up last weekend.  My close girlfriend and her fiance were having a fight party at their house.  When I arrived at their home and they let me through the gates I noticed a beautiful Range Rover sitting in their drive way.  When my friend and her husband both came out to greet me I was excited for my friend.  I assumed in addition to the massive diamond engagement ring her fiance got her, and the beautiful new home that reminded me of a resort they just moved into he had also bought her a brand new shiny white range rover with cream navy trimmed seats and wood paneling.

Me:  Bitch!!! I see you got a new car!

Girlfriend:  No that’s not mine, it’s your man’s.

Me:  My what?

Girlfriend’s Fiance:  I have someone I want you to meet inside.

Me:  Oh boy!  He better not be a fool.

Girlfriend’s Fiance:  Now let me be clear.  I just met him recently.  But he seems like a cool guy.  Let’s see what happens.

Girlfriend:  Exactly.  No pressure. 

That’s all part of being single, the match making attempts by your well meaning friends.  And I didn’t mind.  It’s always nice for a man to come with references.  I remember them mentioning him a few weeks ago.  “Jerold” was a 46 year old, divorced sports agent.  He was married for 15 years and had two kids.  According to my girlfriend’s fiance he was looking to get married again and he was definitely interested in having more kids.  After the last guy I dated I realized if I was going to date a man in his 40’s who had children of a certain age.  I needed to know upfront if he was open to having kids.  Just a side note for any man who is being nosy and reading my blog, if you do not want to have any more kids or if there is a shadow of a doubt that you want to have kids.  Then you do not get the luxury of dating a woman who is younger than you who does not have any children.  It’s downright selfish and ignorant.  Seriously, you get to have your family and you have the audacity to think that you can convince a woman who does not have children not to have kids of her own?  Have several seats!  There I go digressing again!

They figured meeting him at their fight party would be less pressure that I straight up blind date.  This way I could see him in his environment and observe him from a distance.  Now that was a great idea.  When you’re meeting a guy on a blind set up there are a few thoughts that cross a woman’s mind.

1-       I hope this man is somewhat attractive.

2-      I hope he speaks in complete sentences.

3-      I hope this man isn’t a fool.

4-      I hope I haven’t already met this man before and turned his ass down.

These thoughts crossed my mind as I walked into my girlfriend’s massive beautiful home. I sat down the wine and sweet potato pies I baked in the kitchen.   I looked up and there was “Jerold.”  He was about 5’10, stocky (luckily he didn’t have a massive gut), with a low fade.  His nails were a little too buffed out.  I would prefer that a man’s manicure not look like he had on clear nail polish (that’s just a shallow side note).  My girlfriend’s fiancée introduced us.  He smiled and it revealed silver braces. He had on a nice button down lavender shirt, with “diamond” cuff links and his full name (first and last name) monogrammed on the cuffs of the shirt, snake skin loafers, and jeans.   I put my hand out to shake his hand.  “Jerold” pulled me towards him and gave me a big hug.

JeroldI don’t do handshakes.  I’m a hugger.

As he hugged me he buried his nose in my neck.

Jerold:  You smell good.  What kind of perfume is that?

I told him.  (I’m not revealing my secret perfume so a bunch of people start walking around smelling like me :-)).  He saw my sweet potato pies and his eyes lit up.

Jerold:  Did you make these?

Me:  I did, from scratch. 

Jerold:  Your man must love your cooking.

I attempted not to roll my eyes at the sheer corniness.  And he had a big smile on his face which exposed his mouth full of braces again.  Has he never heard of Invisilign?!  But my inner loving diva kicked in, Don’t be a bitch.  He’s just trying to break the ice.  Besides you always said you want a man that is well groomed.  At least he’s trying to get his teeth fixed.  I took a deep calming breath and decided to be open minded.

Me:  Well, I’m actually single.

Jerold:  I guess today is my luck day.


Well, what if a woman doesn’t need your help and she has her own shit. Then what?

I just smiled.  When the guys left the kitchen I told my girlfriend to pour me a glass of wine IMMEDIATELY.  Sometimes a slight buzz can make any situation better.  Actually I think that is always the case!  I grabbed a plate of food and made my way into the living room where the two other couples were sitting and chowed down.  Of course they set it up where I had to sit next to “Jerold.”  So I decided to make the best of the situation.  “Jerold” was born and raised in… Carson.  YUCK!  That was a complete turn off.  My ex was from there.  And had I nothing good to say about that area.  It’s essentially two traffic lights from Compton.  And generally speaking people who are from there think that they aren’t from the hood because it’s not Compton.  But when you’re spitting distance from the hood, well, you’re from the hood.  I damn near broke out in hives when he said that.  But I was trying to be open.  My inner loving diva chimed in, “Not all people from Carson are ignorant, close minded, fronting wannabes like your ex…  Breathe.”  I also looked over at my girlfriend who knew me so well and she winked and tilted her glass of wine as a signalfor me to have a sip and relax.  Then “Jerold” informed us that Monday was his birthday.

Me:  That’s exciting, what do you have planned?

Jerold:  Originally I was supposed to be in Europe.

ME:  Oh really which part?

Jerold:  I was starting off in Paris and then heading over to London.

Me:  Two of my favorite cities.  I used to live in London.

Jerold:  Which part?

Me:  Camden Town.  When are you leaving? 

Jerold:  The trip got postponed to the end of next week.

Me:  So what are you going to do for your birthday now that you’ll be on town?

Jerold:  I don’t know yet where would you like me to take you?

Me:  You’re going to take ME out for YOUR birthday?  That’s very nice of you.

Jerold:  We should go to Nobu in Malibu.

Alright now, things were looking up!  I could over look a railroad on someone’s teeth and over the top “diamond” cuff links for a man with good taste in restaurants.  Braces eventually come off and I can tweak the hell out of a wardrobe!

Jerold:  Let me call my driver so I can make arrangements for us to get picked up.

Jerold then took out his phone and proceeded to dial his driver right then and there on SPEAKERPHONE!

Jerold:  My man, what’s up?

Driver:  Who’s calling?

Jerold: It’s me, Jerold.

Driver:  How can I help you?

Jerold:  It’s my birthday on Monday and I’m gonna need two pickups.

Driver:  Okay, just send me the details.  It will be an extra charge for the additional pick ups. 

Jerold:  Have you ever had a problem with payment?

Driver:  Huh?

Jerold:  You just said there was gonna be an extra charge.  You know my money is riiiiight.  I got you covered.


The driver hung up.  And I sat there so turned off.  Was I supposed to be impressed?  Did he not realize I used a car service on the regular basis?  And to make the call on speaker phone?  Really?  Typical LA guy.  Typical fronting Carson guy!  But I didn’t want to generalize.  The fight was over and as usual when it is a group of men and women the conversation quickly turned to relationships.  My girlfriend’s fiance was one of those men who enjoyed deep grown and sexy conversations.  “Jerold” started talking about his divorce.

Jerold:  My divorce cost my over $1M.  My problem is I have a tendency to pick women who are like projects.

I swear my head spinned around in a complete 360 full turn like the fucking Exorcist.

Me:  What do you mean by projects?

Jerold:  You know what I mean.  Women who don’t really know what they want in life.  I help them find their potential.  With the young lady I dated recently she wanted to start a clothing line so I helped her out.  She just needed someone to recognize her potential and go from there.

Me:  Well, what if a woman doesn’t need your help and she has her own shit.  Then what?

Jerold:  Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying I’m looking for a woman who needs to be guided.  At this point I want a woman who has her own shit together.  I’m like show me a credit report.  If her shit ain’t on point I’m not taking it on.

Then my girlfriend’s fiance piped in.

Girlfriend’s Fiance:  Wait a minute my man.  You’re kind of contradicting yourself.

Jerold:  How so?

Girlfriends Fiance   In one breath you’re saying you have a tendency to take on projects to help a woman find their potential.  But right before that you said if a woman’s credit isn’t together you wouldn’t deal with her at all?  That doesn’t make sense.  If you love someone you are going to try to help them reach their full potential my man.

Jerold:  No that’s not what I meant.  I’m just saying I’m all about helping someone reach their potential.  I just don’t want to be in a situation where they don’t have shit and I’m doing ll the work.

That’s the thing about having these healthy debates with other men.  They will ask the questions you want to know and check someone n a heartbeat if they aren’t making sense.  I got to sit back and listen to what this fool had to say.  My girlfriend’s fiance was like a brother and he knew exactly what he was doing.  He was gathering information for me!  I love when my friends marry men who have some damn sense!!!!  We talked for a few more hours about relationships and life.  “Jerold” was contradicting himself left and right.  The night was coming to an end I was helping my girlfriend clear up the kitchen.

Girlfriend:  What did you think?  And before you answer, let me be clear, we don’t really know him too well.  My honey just met him a few weeks ago and you know he got all excited when he found out he was single.  He’s ready for us to take trips together and do double dates!

Me:  What was up with calling his driver on speaker phone?  What the fuck was that?

Girlfriend:  I know! 

Me:  See that’s that New Money shit that I can’t tolerate.  AND he’s from Carson?!

Girlfriend:  I know you wanted to die.

Me:  You know I did.  Last time I went out with someone from Carson, I discovered they changed the numbers on their Mercedes so instead of the numbers reading  S430 which was already a nice car it said S500 just so he could front.  Of course I found that out after I was already married to his dumb ass.

Girlfriend:  I know!  I know!  But just be open.  He was just trying to impress you.  You know the problem is a lot of these LA bitches are impressed by shit like that and men feel the need to keep doing that kind of shit thinking that it will impress all of us. 

Me:  Okay.  I’m going to be open about this.  We will see.  Something just isn’t adding up.  I can’t put my finger on it.  But my antenna is definitely up.  

My girlfriend and I had a good laugh and then of course the inevitable came.  “Jerold” was heading out and asked for my phone number.  Good Lawd.  I reluctantly gave it to him.  About an hour later he sent me a text.

Jerold: Hey MK!  Great meeting you.  Had a blast.  Gotta pick up where we left off.

Me:  Nice meeting you as well. 



Monique K.Bradley



I can be found on: Facebook | Twitter | Google+        

Birth of a Blog Part 2


“Either you’re a stupid ass and got, got. Or you think I’m a stupid as that can get, get!”

Some of you are probably asking why in the world I would go out with a man who was unattractive and old.  This was the first time in my life I was dating just to be dating.  I spent my 20’s dating with one end goal in mind… To get married (and we already know how that ended up).  So I wanted to date just for fun.  I figured it was good practice for when I met a man I actually liked, I wouldn’t be dusty!  “Jason” had a Saturday afternoon date all planned out.  He gave me directions to his house in Venice Beach.  Venice Beach can be a little tricky.  There are places there that are absolutely stunning oceanfront homes.  And then there are other places that are shy of being a crack house.  It is literally those two extremes.    The way, he described his tastes in art and furniture, I assumed he lived in one of those fabulous homes or condos on the beach or near the beach.  After all this man was almost 50!  You know what they say about ASS-U-ME-ing.  As my navigation directed me to the Venice Beach area and had me make my final right onto the street and announced my destination was on the right hand side I just knew I had to wrong place.  I checked the text message with the address one more time against my navigation system.  The addresses matched.  I was parked in front of an old ass building with chipped paint and bars on the windows.  I looked to the right where there were dumpsters and there was a homeless man going through the garbage.  He finally found a sandwich, began eating it, and walked off.  Oh shit!!!  There was no way I was about to park Freedom (the name for my convertible Audi) anywhere near this place.  I called “Jason” to let him know I had arrived.  I was hoping and praying he had accidentally given me the wrong address.

Me:  Hey Jason.  I think I’m here.  Are you sure you gave me the right address?

Jason:  Yeah.  I’m on my way.  I’ll be there in 5 minutes.  You can park in the back of my building in space 5.

Me:  Um… Are you sure my car is safe here?

Jason:  (laughing)  Of course!  You’re fine.

Me:  Okay, because I have a convertible.  I don’t want anyone to rip the top off and try to steal it. 

Jason:  No you’re fine.  My car is the silver BMW.  Just park behind my car.  I’ll see you in a second.

Alright, so he has a BMW.  So I figured my car would be safe.  I drove to the back of the building and looked for parking spot #5.  I saw an old BMW parked there.  When I say old, I mean old.  The shit had to be from 1982.  AND it was propped up where it appeared to be missing the front passenger wheel.  What the fuck?!  Just as I was about to put my car in reverse and get the fuck out of there, I saw a man riding a bike in my direction.  I squinted my eyes and saw it was “Jason.”  This fool was wearing some Sear Sucker shorts, a white button up shirt, a bow tie, and a straw hat.  This bitch looked like Bojangles!


Just as I was about to put my car in reverse and get the fuck out of there, I saw a man riding a bike in my direction. I squinted my eyes and saw it was “Jason.” This bitch looked like Bojangles!

Jason:  Hey there.  Where are you going?  You can park here. 

Me:  I was about to… Ummmm…

Jason:  Come on up for a drink.  I also wanted you to see the Dali painting I was telling you about.  I had an interior decorator come and do my spot.  Come check it out.

Me:  You’re sure my car is okay?

Jason:  What’s up with you and this damn car?  I already told you, you’re fine!  Come on, I have a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc chilling in the freezer.

Well at least this fool knew how to make my ass stay.  Besides the traffic on the 405 was like a fucking parking lot.  I had driven all the way up here, the least I could do was stay for a cocktail.  I followed him up the steps to his spot.  And he was describing all the detail that went into decorating.  I figured, maybe this was one of those buildings that looked like shit from the outside but inside it was really nice.  I tell ya I can be such a judgmental bitch at times.  Anyway I digressed…  We got to his front door and he opened it up.  “Ta-da!”  I stepped into the smallest apartment I had ever seen.  It was smaller than a studio apartment although it was a one bedroom.  The walls were covered in art, I’ll give him that.  It’s was decorated very tastefully, I’ll give him that.  But that shit was so damn small.  This man was about to be 50 and this place would have been acceptable for any man in his 20’s but this made no damn sense.  He walked me over to a sketching he had on his wall.

Jason:  This is the Dali I was telling you about.

I walked up as close as I could.  My nose was probably less than an inch away from the frame.  My first inclination was to scream, “Either you’re a stupid ass and got, got.  Or you think I’m a stupid as that can get, get!”  There was no way on God’s green earth that was an authentic Salvador Dali piece.  If this dumb ass could afford a piece of that type of artwork he certainly wouldn’t be living in this shoe box he called a home!  But I decided to be nice and go along with the act.  So we sat down on his couch and had a glass of wine.

Jason:  I wanted to give you a present.

Me:  Really?  You don’t have to.

Jason:  No I insist.  I really appreciate you giving a brotha a chance and not letting age get in the way.

Me:  As long as you’re up front with me we are all good.

Jason reached over and picked up the large 3 wick candle that was sitting on his coffee table.

Jason:  I figured this would be nice and relaxing for you.  It has a nice settle scent.

I started cracking up.  Seriously, he was too funny.

Me:  Jason, you are a fool!  You crack me up!

Jason:  What’s so funny?

Me:  You pretending to give me an already used candle as a gift.  That was a good one!

Jason:  No I’m serious.  I only used it once. 

That’s when I realized he was dead ass serious.  I was expecting Ashton Kutcher to jump out of his back room and the camera crew to hop out from wherever they were hiding.  This really couldn’t be happening.  When 30 seconds went by it settled I wasn’t on a non-celebrity episode of Punked!

ME:  Thanks!  Why don’t I just set it down here until I leave?

I had no intention of bringing that shitty candle home.  Just as I slammed back my glass of wine.  There was a car passing by with loud music.  You know when a car is blasting its music so damn loud you can feel the vibrations in your house.  It was that loud.  I figured it would pass by but it sounded like it was getting louder and louder.  “Jason” jumped up. “Our ride is here.  My boy has his own cab and I knew we would be drinking so he’s giving us a ride to the restaurant.”  He opened his front door I walked out and there was a cab waiting for us outside blasting gangster rap!  “Jason” introduced us.  I reluctantly got into the cab.  As we passed various cars, the drivers and/or passengers looked over at the cab with disgust and rolled up their windows.  With each mile we drove I sank lower and lower into the back seat hoping I would not be seen.

Jason:  I remember you mentioned you like Oysters; I’m taking you to a spot in Santa Monica that you’ll love.  Then we’ll walk down the street to the spot where I work.

Me:  I thought you were a writer?

Jason:  Well, yeah I do that too.  But sometimes I… Uh… help out my friend at his bar and I’ll bartend if he’s shorthanded. 

I gave him major side eye.  I was no dummy.  This asshole wasn’t a damn writer.  He was a damn bartender.  Now it made sense why his ass knew all the bartenders around LA.  Typically when you are a waiter or bartender you know other waiters and bartenders and hang out and hook people up with free drinks!  Oh my goodness.  We pulled up to the elegant spot, loud music blasting.  I hopped out of the taxi so fast and practically sprinted into the restaurant.  I was hoping no one saw me and associated me with this foolery.  Of course when “Jason” came in the first thing he did was say hello to the bartender before we were escorted to our table in the small packed restaurant.  When we sat down the bartender sent us over a bottle of Rose.  “Jason” was one of those men who liked to strike up conversation with people he didn’t know.  The restaurant was small and packed so it was almost like a community table.  “Jason’s” loud ass began to strike up conversation with a group of young ladies who were sitting at the table next to us.  After he ordered our food a huge sampler plate of various seafood came to the table of the ladies sitting next to us.  “Jason’s” bug eyes got even bigger as the waiter placed the tower on their table.

Jason:  What’s that?

Lady at Table Next to Us:  The seafood tower.

Jason:  That looks real good.  I might order that.  Can I try some?

Lady at the Table Next To Us:  Ummmm…. Uh…. Oooo-kay?

With that “Jason” grabbed his bread plate and proceeded to grab a few shrimp, crab legs, and oysters off the young ladies seafood tower and take some of the various sauces and pour a little on his plate.  I wanted to die!  I wanted to run out of the restaurant.  Mortified doesn’t even begin to describe how I felt!  He asked if I wanted some.  I said no before he could even get the sentence out.  There was a couple who was sitting at the table on the opposite side of us who observed this fiasco.  They saw my face.  I gave them a look of HELP ME!!!  So the man tried to lighten the mood of the situation.

Gentleman:  (to Jason) Your date is a very pretty woman.  She’s a class act.  You’re one lucky man!

Jason:  Who her?  She alright.

Gentleman’s Date:   She seems wonderful!

Me:  Thank you.

Jason:  Naw.  She’s just alright. (begins laughing)

That’s when I had officially had enough.  Here I Was sitting across from a complete moroon and someone is giving me a compliment and all his ass could say was I’m ALRIGHT?  With that I grabbed my purse and stood up.

Jason:  Where are you going?

Me:  I’m leaving.

I walked out the restaurant.  And I forgot my fucking car was at his house.  So I walked to the corner to see if I could hail a taxi.  I didn’t see one in sight (this was before the Uber days).  Shortly after Bojangles came out of the restaurant.

Jason:  What’s wrong with you? We still have oysters coming.

Me:  I’m done!  How dare you just say I’m alright when someone compliments me?  Who the fuck do you think you are?

Jason:  You’re trippin’!  I was just playing.

Me:  The shit wasn’t funny and I don’t appreciate it.

Jason:  (throwing his hands up in the air) Get the fuck outta here.  You’ve been tripping all day with your bourgeois ass.  Fine then go the fuck home!  I don’t have time for this shit.

Me: Then bring your broke, wanna be Bojangles, 50 year old, living in a shack, waiter ass wanna be a writer ass back in the fucking restaurant.  That’s what I get for associating with hired help!

Jason:  Fuck you!

Me:  Fuck you!  I can’t believe I gave your ugly ass the time of day!

Jason:  Fuck you!

I saw a taxi pulling up.  Thank goodness.  But I still had to have the last word because at that point I didn’t give a shit.  As I grabbed the handle of the taxi to open the door I stuck him with my parting words hoping to cut him with my tongue.

Me:  And by the way, give your son a call.  On top of being an ugly ass broke fuck you seem to be shitty father too.  Go fuck yourself and never ever call me again.


As I grabbed the handle of the taxi to open the door I stuck him with my parting words hoping to cut him with my tongue.

I hopped in that taxi so fast and prayed that he wasn’t going to try to reach in and grab me and kill me.  I told the taxi to get me back to his address as soon as I could. I prayed that a) he hadn’t called someone to wait for me at his house to kill me or b) had someone vandalize my damn car.  Why oh why can’t I learn how to just keep my mouth shut sometimes?!  Why oh why do I always have to have the last word?!  When we got to his house I had the taxi driver drive me to the back and wait for me until my car started and I was driving off.  I even asked him to follow me until I got to the freeway.  Thank God the driver was so accommodating.

I made it safely back to my home.  I called at least 5 of my girlfriends and told them what happened. The reactions were all the same.  What?!  No way…. You gotta to be kidding me… what a stupid ass… I am so glad you are okay and weren’t hurt… And the conclusion that all of them came up with was… You gotta write a book about your dates!


These stories must be shared if for nothing else pure entertainment or life lessons… I realized I could use my stories and hopefully help others through their journey and let them know they were not alone. And with that I began this blog and Confessions of a Serial Dater in LA was delivered….

The next morning I woke up.  I was still in a state of rejuvenation since the Maui trip despite that little speed bump from the night before.  I went in my mediation room and did my usual journaling, praying and meditation and sat in silence for a few minutes.  And suddenly I began to have a flashback of that date, which was by far the worse date in the history of my 30+ years on this earth.  I flashed back to all of the other dates I had been on in the last year, and in my 20’s.  I flashed back to me and my girlfriends meeting up for drinks later on to discuss all the dates.  The laughter, the disappointments, the lessons, the horrors, and it hit me…  These stories must be shared if for nothing else pure entertainment or life lessons.  I even thought back to the journey life had taken me on through my marriage and ultimately the divorce.  I realized I could use my stories and hopefully help others through their journey and let them know they were not alone.  And with that I began this blog and Confessions of a Serial Dater in LA was delivered….

Monique K.Bradley



I can be found on: Facebook | Twitter | Google+        

Birth of a Blog Part 1

 I decided to bring you a 2 Part blog.  Sometimes I just can’t get a story out in one post.  Enjoy…


I decided to take a trip by myself to Maui. I was having an Eat, Pray, Love moment. I needed to get out of LA and just breathe.

Since I launched this blog in January I have been asked quite a few times, “What made you start this blog?!”  I ignore the times when people ask me this question with a look of horror and judgment.  I secretly give them the finger and stick my tongue out at them like a child.  But for the folks who genuinely are curious I tell them the story of my worse date ever…

In July of 2012 I decided to take a trip by myself to Maui.  I was having an Eat, Pray, Love moment.  I needed to get out of LA and just breathe.  My divorce had just become final in January of that year.  I felt like I never took the time to be by myself and just reflect on the last few years of my life.  As you know, I spend a majority of my time travelling for my job.  And one of the perks of all that travel is collecting hotel points and airline points.  I booked my flight from LAX to Hawaii which cost me a total of $2.50.  And then I booked my hotel, which cost me a total of $50.  I only told one person where I was going just in case something happened.  I left on a Thursday and tuned myself off to the outside world.  My phone was off, I didn’t watch TV, and I didn’t speak to any family or friends for a total of 5 days. My mornings were spent in heavy mediation and journaling, my days were spent lounging by the pool having cocktails, and my nights were spent taking myself out to dinners.  Needless to say, by the time I returned to the stratosphere, I felt renewed, rejuvenated, and healed.  It was closure to the difficult chapter of my life.  And I finally felt at peace and okay.

So I celebrated my renewal by meeting my girlfriends at Chaya Venice to tell them about the trip.  Chaya Venice has one of the best happy hours in LA. It is always packed.  While socializing with my girlfriends a gentleman walked in and asked if the seat next to me was taken.  I was in a good mood so I decided to be “witty.”  “It’s taken… but I will give you the privilege of sitting there.”   He laughed at my humor and asked me what I was drinking.  He knew the bartender well.  And then he did what all single men should always do when they offer to buy a woman a drink and her girlfriends are standing there, he offered to buy them a drink as well (please note, this only applies to groups of 3 or less…. I’m not expecting you to buy drinks for a party of 10).  “Jason” was a TV writer.  He was originally from New York.   “Jason” was NOT attractive at all.  As a matter of fact the angle of his seat made it difficult to really get a sense of his looks.  (Or maybe it was the fact I had a few too many cocktails since I had a designated driver that night).  So I leaned over to my girl friend and asked her, ”Is he cute?  I can’t tell.”  Her response was to discreetly take her knife and point it in the direction of her half eaten steak skewer that was smothered in A1 sauce and say, “He looks similar to this.”  My friends are just as ignorant as I am.  And this is why I love them!  We are all WIPs (works in progress).  But as I had a few more cocktails his not so stellar looks were over shadowed by his sense of style.  He had an east coast NYC vibe to him which exuded confidence.  We talked about the show he was working on, jazz, art.  It was a great convo.  At the end of the evening when he was about to leave, I didn’t notice we had spent the last 2 hours just talking.  I forgot my friends were even sitting there.  He asked me for my number before he left.  I was definitely not attracted to this guy physically.  Most women who are of child bearing years will look at a man’s features and picture what their future children will look like.  Usually when it comes to your future daughter you are even more selective about who you consider dating because if it turns into something and you marry the guy and have children, often times children get the features of the opposite sex parent.  When he asked for my number, I looked at his features, his oversized nose, his too close together eyes, his soup cooler lips and imagined what he would look like as a little girl.  My first thought was, “Hell no!  Don’t give him the time of day.  Run… Run… Think about your future children!”  But then, with my newly rejuvenated fresh from Maui self, thought, I would go out with him.  Not every relationship is meant for marriage.  And I certainly would not risk mixing my good gene pool with anybody!   I would never be serious with him.  He would just be a guy I would hang out with for fun.  If nothing else we could have a great friendship.   Like men, women have two categories of men they date as well… The good time guy and the guy you take seriously.  This man would certainly be the good time guy.  With that, I gave him my number and quite frankly I could have cared less if he called me or not.


While socializing with my girlfriends a gentleman walked in and asked if the seat next to me was taken. I was in a good mood so I decided to be “witty.” “It’s taken… but I will give you the privilege of sitting there.” He laughed at my humor and asked me what I was drinking.

As fate would have it, he not only called me, but he sent me a text that evening, “It was great meeting you.  I would love to finish our conversation over dinner.  Are you free on Saturday?  If so let’s meet at Luna Park at 8pm.” Even if I had planned on saying no, Luna Park was one of my favorite restaurants in LA.  It was a spot that only true foodies knew about.  They had great food, great drinks, and a hip east coast type atmosphere.  I was actually impressed that he even knew about this spot.

So Saturday evening came and I was heading over to Luna Park.  Of course I was running late (I really need to get better with that).  I sent him a text message letting him know I was running 10 minutes behind.  I had finally arrived at the valet at 8:10 on the dot.  As I was getting out of my car I got a text message from “Jason.”  I’m giving you another 5 minutes and then I’m bouncing.  I have a 15 minute rule.  Ummmm…. Huh?  I walked into the restaurant and saw him at a corner booth.  He was looking at his cell phone.  I could see his not so great features from the light his cell phone gave off.  My first reaction was to check him.  But again, I was still in my Renewal Maui mode.  When I got to the table he looked up from his phone.

Me:  Ummmm…. Didn’t you get my text that I was running 10 minutes behind?

Jason:  No I didn’t get it.  I thought I was being stood up.

Me:  One thing you need to know about me is I am a woman of my word.  If I say I’m going to be somewhere I’m going to be there.

Jason:  My bad.  You look beautiful.

Flattery will get you everywhere in my book.  The waiter came up to the table to get our orders and ironically he knew this waiter well too.

Me:  Are you a food critic?  You seem to know all the wait staff and bartenders wherever we go!

Jason:  I just make it a point to know the people at the places I love to go.

I could appreciate that.  They way a man treats the wait staff says a lot about who he is as a person.  If he’s an asshole to a waiter, please know and believe he will be an asshole to you one day.  From there the conversation ensued.  Come to find out “Jason” had a 22 year old son who he hadn’t spoken to in over 2 years.  When dating someone who has kids it is a very fine line in terms of the questions you should ask when you first start dating.  But I was curious how a man goes without speaking to his son for 2 years.  Seriously, you believe in treating wait staff with respect but you haven’t talked to your own damn son?  But I didn’t want to be quick to judge.

Me:  It must be hard to not speak to your son.

Jason:  That little n**## pissed me off.  He was staying with me and he didn’t know how to pick up after himself.  Once I came home and caught his ass smoking weed in my house!  When I told him that was unacceptable he went into this bullshit about how I wasn’t a father to him most of his life and I shouldn’t be telling him what to do.  He said a bunch of other bullshit and I shipped his ass back to his mother’s house.

I know there had to be a bigger story to this.  But I also knew I couldn’t cross the line.

Me:  Do you think perhaps that was a cry for help?

Jason:  Until he learns how to respect me I don’t have shit else to say to him.

I could tell he was getting very tense and his breathing was accelerated.  So I changed the subject and kept it on neutral topics.  And we got on the topic of art.

Jason:  I’m into art.  As a matter of fact I have an original Dali at my house. 

Me:  Bullshit!  There’s no way in hell you have an original Salvador Dali piece of art work at your house.

Jason:  No bullshit.  I’m a collector.  I invest my money in art.

I could appreciate he loved art and invested in it.  However, Dali has the most forgeries of any living artist. If it is an original with a low number you could have a piece worth a couple thousand dollars, if not than not much.  It’s not like he had the fucking Mona Lisa hanging up in his house.  I was intrigued.  The rest of the date was pretty chill.  I made it a point to keep off the topic of his son, although it was certainly a red flag.  But I could have cared less given the fact that I wasn’t trying to marry this guy.  We went out a few days later and he took me to TH Little Door.  And it was the same vibe.  He knew the bartender very well.  We had a bottle of Rose and dessert and it was cool.  I appreciated how this man knew how to court.  Then we got on the topic of upcoming birthday in a month.

Me:  What are doing for your birthday?

Jason:  I’m not sure yet.  I’ll probably take a trip somewhere.  Since this is a big one?

Me:  A big one?  Wait a minute… how old are you turning?

Jason:  I don’t like to disclose my age.

Me:  I thought you were 47. 

Jason:  No that’s what you guessed, I just didn’t correct you.

Me:  So if your next birthday is a big one, then you must be turning 45.

Jason:  No close… I’m turning 50.

Record screech to a halt!  50?!  If you’re a regular reader of my blog, you know I like and appreciate older men.  But 50?  That’s was too damn old.  50 is also known as 10 years away from needing to take a pill to keep it up.  And in 10 years, I will be in the middle of my sexual peek and have no intention of trying to entertain a wet noodle unless it’s in my pasta!  I’m just saying.  46 is my max.  That is 10 years older than me.  50?  Oh no!  That’s just not my speed.


And in 10 years, I will be in the middle of my sexual peek and have no intention of trying to entertain a wet noodle unless it’s in my pasta!

Me:  I had no idea you were 50.

Jason:  What can I say?  I work out.

Me:  Why didn’t you correct me then?

Jason:  Age is just a number.

Me:  So now we’re quoting Aaliyah? 

Jason:  We just had a cool vibe. 

We finished up our bottle of Rose.  But again, I wasn’t trying to have a relationship with this man.  I was enjoying hanging out with him and having great dinners.  He walked me out to valet.

Jason:  You’re awfully quiet.

Me:  I’m just in deep thought.

Jason:  Come on.  Don’t let a few years between us get in the way.  I’m enjoying my time with you.

Me:  I just don’t like that you weren’t honest when we first met.

Jason:  Mea culpa.  That’s on me.  Let me take you out on Saturday.  I’ll make it up to you.

I had two choices.  I could a) run for the hills.  I wasn’t physically attracted to this man and  the relationship wasn’t going anywhere or b) let him take me out to another great spot in LA.  At the rate I was going I could be a food critic.  I chose the latter.  And that’s when the craziness ensued….


Monique K.Bradley



I can be found on: Facebook | Twitter | Google+        

The Gray Area- a.k.a GAB


I find these moments are happening more often these days. I am not sure if it is because I am more in tune with myself right now and noticing things I might have missed back in the day or if people have just gone stone cold crazy.

Every once in a while someone will say something to me that makes me go, Hmmmm…”  I find these moments are happening more often these days.  I am not sure if it is because I am more in tune with myself right now and noticing things I might have missed back in the day or if people have just gone stone cold crazy.  But either way, I have been experiencing the case of the Hmmmm’s more often than not.  Recently I told a few of my married guy friends (MGF) that I was ready to date seriously.  The greatest untapped resource for a single girl is their married guy friends (MGF) who have single friends.  Now let me elaborate on this.  First of all in order for me to be friends with any married man, I know their wives and they know me.  This is a MUST in my book.  You never want to make a wife feel uncomfortable with you.  It’s a respect thing.  This also goes to the guys I knew before they were married.  Once they got serious with their now wives, the communication becomes a three way conversation.  For instance:

ME:  How’s everything going?

MGF:  All is well.

Me:  How’s “Dina” tell her I said hello.

MGF:  She’s great.  Will do.

You always want to make sure the wife is an active part of your conversation out of respect.  I figured I would reach out to my MGF’s, the successful ones that have their shit together and give them my criteria.  I had nothing to lose.  You know like attracts like.  A man who has his shit together isn’t going to associate with losers… at least they shouldn’t.  So one of my MGF stepped up to the plate.  He did a Facebook introduction to “Darren” a 48 year old advertising executive in NYC.  Darren had never been married before. Major side eye).  Typically a man who hits 42 and above and has never been married has major issues.  I looked at a few of “Darren’s” pictures and I wasn’t necessarily attracted to him.  But there was a certain amount of swag and confidence that permeated through his pictures.  You can always tell a boss type man.  He definitely had that feel to him.  He immediately called me and we spoke on the phone.  Surprisingly his voice didn’t match his look.  Now keep in mind I was just going based off of his Facebook pictures that I had seen.  In his Facebook pictures “Darren” was rocking tailor made suits.  But over the phone he sounded… how can I say this… Fuck it I’ll just say it.  He sounded HOOD!  Straight up ghetto!  You would never have guessed he graduated from Columbia University.  I was slightly turned off.  I’m not looking to date Carlton Banks from The Fresh Prince of Bel Air.  But damn, this man sounded like he had just been released from a state prison.  Certainly my MGF couldn’t have gotten it all wrong.  When he told me about him he said, “This brotha is a solid dude.  He has his shit together and he would appreciate a woman like you.”  Note to self, next time I decided to get a hook up through one of my MGF’s I need to make sure he is vetted through his wife.  Men often overlook the foolishness of their boys as a guy code where women will be honest and say, “Oh hell no, they would never work out!”  But I decided to go ahead and give this brotha a chance.  You know my new motto.  I have nothing to lose.  Ironically “Darren” had a business meeting in LA that following week.  So we decided to meet that following Friday afternoon for drinks at The Montage in Beverly Hills.  An afternoon date is perfect.  I could always use the excuse I had diner plans if it was a train wreck.  So that Friday afternoon I found myself walking into the bar at The Montage.  It was hot as hell that day so I settled on a short and flowly pink dress with some super tall wedges.  Since this was somewhat of a blind date I was curious to see if he would pass my height test.  When I walked into the bar I spotted him sitting down in the corner checking emails on his phone.  He was wearing a pair of sweatpants a t-shirt and a jean jacket.  WTF?  Are you fucking kidding me?  I had a sudden urge to turn around and run.  But that urge was killed when my stomach growled.  I was hungry as hell!  So I walked up to him:

Me:  Hi Darren.

“Darren” stood up and went to give me a hug.  “Darren” had to be a good 5’5.  I was towering over his short ass like a beast.  I think he had to go on his tippy toes to even give me a hug.

Darren:  My, my, my, you look even better in person.  What’s up?

Me:  Nothing.  I see you dressed up for the occasion.

Darren:  (laughing) I’m in chill mode, you know how that goes.

Me:  I see. 

The waiter couldn’t come fast enough to bring me a glass of wine.  I order a nice glass of Sancerre wine.  “Darren” was loud and even more ghetto in person.  How the fuck could this man be an advertising executive acting that simple?  You know how you have those moments when you are out on a date and you look around and the other patrons look at you like, What is that beautiful woman doing with this clown?  Well that’s how I felt.

Darren:  How tall are you?

Me:  5’8 without heels with heels I can go from 5’11-6’3 depending on my mood.

Darren:  Yeah, I like tall women.

Me:  Why?

Darren:  It’s a good look.  It cracks me up when I’m out with a tall woman and other tall guys try to hate.

ME:  Try to hate?  How? 

Darren:  They be like, “Why you out with that short n****?”

Me:  Interesting.

Darren:  But that shit don’t bother me.  I be like she my woman.

Me:  Well okay!

Darren:  Besides shorter men make more money than taller men.

This was actually getting amusing.  I decided to indulge this clown.  Only so I could have material to write for my blog (the things I do for my readers)  J

Me:  They do?  Why is that Darren?

Darren:  Because we got to work harder.  Tall men don’t have to work as hard.

Me:  Interesting.

Now when a short man makes a comment like this, you already know they have an issue with their height and that shows straight up insecurity.  What a clown.  I had to speak to my inner diva, Don’t roll your eyes.  Just humor this fool!  Don’t be a bitch.  And damn it, try not to be too damn bourgeois!  I agreed with my inner diva with everything but the Bourgeois part.  Yeah I’m bourgeois as hell.  I don’t apologize for it and I will not pretend to be anyone else.  I ordered another glass of wine.  “Darren” and I got on the topic of relationships.

Me:  So Darren, I’m just curious.  Why have you never been married?

Darren:  I wasn’t ready.  I was working on my career.

Me:  Do you typically date women your age or younger?

Darren:  I date women anywhere from 25-40.

Me:  25?!  But you’re damn near 50.  What do would you have in common with a 25 year old?

Darren:  You’d be surprised.  These 25 year olds know what they want more than some of these late 30’s GABS.

Me:  GABS?  What’s that?

Darren:  You never heard of GABS?

Me:  Um…. No.

I took a swig of my wine.  Last time a man used an acronym on a date he hit me with the GRP (Golden Rod Of Power… refer to: http://confessionsofaserialdaterinla.com/2013/04/the-golden-state/).  I wasn’t sure if I could handle another ignorant comment without going to jail for violence!

Me:  What is GAB?

Darren:  Gray Area Bitches.

Record screech to a halt!  Did this man just use the B word?  Now granted I use it all the time.  Usually as a term of endearment (I’m a WIP:  Work in Progress). But when a man says and on the first date it’s downright ignorant.  So I decided to give him a chance to redeem himself.


This was actually getting amusing. I decided to indulge this clown. Only so I could have material to write for my blog (the things I do for my readers)

Me:  I’m sorry, could you repeat that?

Darren:  (un-phased) Grey Area Bitches.

I gave him the biggest side eye ever.

Darren:  Oh my bad.  I didn’t mean to be disrespectful.

Me:  Well what the hell does it mean?

Darren:  Let me break it down.  Usually when a woman hits her late 30’s she is successful.  She is travelling the world and enjoying life.  Lots of times they aren’t sure if they really want to get married.  They might decide to just have a baby with some random n**** or go to a sperm bank and create a baby with a turkey baster.  But they don’t know if they want a husband because they worry their lives will change and a man will come in and try to shut that down.  It usually happens for a woman when she hits 36 so you got another year. 

Me: That’s the most ignorant shit I have ever heard in my life.

Darren:  It’s true.  Just sit back and watch.  Now that I have told you this, you’re going to be talking to one of your girls and it’s going to hit you.  This bitch is a GAB!!!

Darren started cracking up.  As he laughed I looked at his ugly face and thought this short little shrimp thinks he’s the shit because he has money.  Perhaps he dated too many video vixens in NYC.  But I couldn’t stand to be there another second.  I abruptly got up.

Darren:  Where you going baby?

ME:  I forgot, I… Um… I have to pick my friend up from the airport.  I’ll give you a call later. 

valentine cooking

At the end of the day, most successful women want to leave their offices and board rooms and be treated like a Princess at home.

I high tailed my ass out of The Montage.  I didn’t realize I was practically sprinting until I tripped on the carpet in the Lobby.  When I got home later on that evening I was left to wonder, about the GAB.  How many other men had this same theory?  Why were women who were successful being made to feel like their success was preventing them from getting a quality guy?  Why is it okay for a man to say he was focusing on his career and that was why his simple ass hadn’t been married yet, but when a woman says the same thing she is looked at like a circus freak?  Did men not realize we want a real relationship but just weren’t settling?  Did they really want a girl who was younger and confused and didn’t know what they wanted?  Was I now reaching the age where some men would think 35+ is too old for them?  At the end of the day, in my 20’s I was so busy trying to be the person I am now.  I admit it, back then I read Why Men Love Bitches, Why Men Marry Bitches, The Rules, etc.  Looking back on it, the books were absolute and total bullshit.  However, they pretty much emphasize having a life of your own and not giving everything up to be with a guy.  And teach women dating “strategies.”  Whereas now, because I have a busy career and active social life I don’t have to make shit up to “Seem” busy and “elusive.”  I simply am.  Any man that comes into my life will have to enhance it and add to it.  Not put me in some little box because he is an insecure short Simpleton (my mother’s favorite word).  That doesn’t make me a damn GAB.  That makes me a women who is finally confident in who I am, what I desire, and what I need and deserve.  Perhaps we are GAB’s.  Greatly Anticipating the Best.  Because at the end of the day, that’s what we deserve.  We should enjoy our hard earned success and not be made to feel like it is a burden.  At the end of the day, most successful women want to leave their offices and board rooms and be treated like a Princess at home.  So guess what.  I will continue to be a GAB if that means I am not settling for the okey doke!

Monique K.Bradley



I can be found on: Facebook | Twitter | Google+        

The Golden State


Where in the hell was my prince?! Up to this point not only have I kissed multiple frogs, I even married a demon!

After spending the last few days considering a cross country move I decided to exhaust all possibilities here in LA.  Like clockwork whenever I am seriously reconsidering living here the weather is extra sunny and the skies are extra clear.  I tell ya, this city has a way of screwing with girls emotions.  So I thought, maybe I will revisit someone from the past that I might not have given a chance.  So I gave “Vince” a call.  (refer to my very first post- http://confessionsofaserialdaterinla.com/2013/01/am-i-vain-or-just-deserving/).  “Vince” was a cool guy I went out with a couple of time but due to his excessive girth (unfortunately on his waist) I wasn’t sure if I could date him because of my own vanity.  But I figured I could put my vanity aside for the possibility of staying in LA.  Besides I could help him lose weight.  I could make it my personal mission to be his coach and his trainer in his very own The Biggest Loser.  “Vince” was overjoyed to hear from me again.

Vince:  I thought you forgot about me.  You just kicked a brotha to the curb. 

Me:  I have been on the road.  You know how that is. (I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I just wasn’t into him and I had kicked him to the curb.  That would have been mean… right?)

Vince:  Are you in town for a while.

Me:  I am.  How have you been?

Vince:  I’ll be better if you let me take you out to dinner this week.

Me:  You know I live to make you happy Vince!  Where should we meet?

Vince:  How about Boa?

Me:  That works for me.

Vince:  Thanks for giving a brotha another chance.

Me:  Oh Vince, you are too much.

I hung up the phone and I thought.  See, you were just being a vain bitch.  You should have given this man a chance.  So what if he is a little bigger than you typically like.  He is going to adore you.  Wednesday night came and I pulled up to Boa.  I settled on a fairly casual outfit.  To be honest, normally when I am excited about going out with someone I go all out.  It takes a few hours of preparation.  But since it was “Vince” I didn’t feel the need for all the usual pomp and circumstance so I wore a pair of dark jeans, I bright pink blazer and a pair of heels, with an oversized clutch (in honor of going out with my oversized man).  When I walked into Boa “Vince” was sitting down at one of the couches at the bar checking emails on his phone.  When he saw me his eyes lit up and he stood.  Oh boy… he stood up.  He looked like he gained a good 15 pounds more since the last time we went out.  I went up to him and gave him a hug.  I couldn’t wrap my arms around him.  So I tried to focus on something good about him.  Okay, he had on a very nice suit.  It was obviously custom.  I guess it had to be.  If you are that large I doubt you can just go to a regular store and buy a suit.  I had to once again tame down my inner diva.  Give him a chance.  He might look like Professor Klump but at least he knows how to court a woman.  That’s what you said you were looking for.  So bitch sit down and allow yourself to be courted! 


Give him a chance. He might look like Professor Klump but at least he knows how to court a woman. That’s what you said you were looking for. So bitch sit down and allow yourself to be courted!


We walked to the host stand and he told the young lady his name and she immediately sat us at one of the best tables in the restaurant.  Okay, that’s what I’m talking about!  Suddenly his extra girth wasn’t so unappealing.  That’s not exactly true.  But I’m sure you’ve heard the saying, fake it till you make it.  I was attempting to test out that theory.  He helped me with my chair.  The waiter came to the table to take our drink orders.

Vince:  I’ll have a cranberry juice with lime and she’ll have a glass of the Dog Point Sauvignon Blanc.

Me:  Wow Vince I’m impressed.

Vince:  I pay attention. 

Me:  Noted.

Vince and I caught up on our lives over the last 3 months.  He recently renovated his home and had just returned from taking his kids to Hawaii for their spring break.  The conversation was great and the wine was sensational.   I was really enjoying my time with “Vince.”  I was suddenly willing to overlook his arms resting on the top of his stomach when he crossed them and his rather thick unibrow (something I hadn’t noticed before).  As a matter of fact when he crossed his arms over his large stomach I noticed a beautiful yet settle Rolex watch.  Okay, this wasn’t too bad.  I can overlook the unappealing qualities.  The good is outweighing the bad (no pun intended).  Then the waiter came to the table to prepare our table side Cesar salad.  The waiter was mixing the salad.  So I decided to start my Trainer position to help my man lose some eight.  I’m sure he could appreciate it.  So I subtly said to the waiter.

Me:  Light on the cheese and dressing!  Um… Please.

Vince:  Oh no!  Extra cheese and dressing.  As a matter of fact please put extra dressing on the side.

Me:  I do not like a lot of dressing on my salad.

Vince:  (to the waiter) Listen to the person who is paying.

With that the waiter looked at me, shrugged, and overloaded cheese and dressing onto the salad.  I ordered another glass of Sauvignon Blanc.  This is why I always will work even if I end up married to a zillionaire.  I never want to be in a situation where I am beholding to some man all because he holds the purse strings.  Don’t get me wrong.  I want to be taken care of and would welcome a man who is financial able to keep me in the lifestyle I am accustomed to.  But I will always maintain my independence and have “Fuck you” money.

Vince:  You always gotta be in control of shit.  Just sit back and let me handle shit.  I see I’m gonna have to get you in check!

Me: Uh.. excuse me?

Vince:  Calm down I’m just playing. 

Me:  (laughing) Oh I know.  You ain’t crazy! 

Vince:  But you ARE always trying to control shit.    

Me:  You’re right.  I’m working on it.

Vince:  We are going to have to figure out a way to get you to let me handle things.

Me:  I’m open to suggestions. 

I realized he was giving sexual innuendos.  The idea of this man naked sent me into a panic.  I took a long chug of my wine and tried to shake it off.  I also concentrated on not throwing up in my mouth or on him for that matter.  Maybe in his mind he thought since we were out on our 5th date he was going to go there.

Vince:  You gotta to experience the GRP.

Me:  What’s the GRP?

Vince:  The Golden Rod of Power.

I literally choked on my wine.  Perhaps my ears were still clogged from the flight I had taken last week.

Me:  What’s the Golden Rod of Power?

Vince:  (he slowed down his speech and enunciated each word like he was teaching me how to read) The Golden…Rod… of…  Power.

Just when I was taking a sip of my Sauvignon Blanc it clicked.  I figured out what the GRP really was.  I literally spit my wine out.

Me:  Are you talking about peeing on someone?

Vince:  I don’t have to pee on you.  It can be the other way around.

I was disgusted.  I was mortified.  And suddenly the beautiful coloring of the Sauvignon Blanc I was drinking had taken on a different meaning and I couldn’t stomach it.

ME:  Have you lost your God damn mind?! 

I didn’t realize my voice was raised until I noticed a couple at a table 3 down was looking at us.  So I lowered my voice.  I wasn’t trying to re-create a scene from The Real Housewives of Atlanta.

Vince:  Don’t knock it ‘til you try it.

Me:  I can’t believe you just said that shit.  You need to save that for some bitch with low self esteem.  How dare you?

Vince:  Calm down, I was just playing.

Me:  No you weren’t.  You were dead ass serious.  You were trying to feel me out to see if I was some type of nasty ass freak.  Well I’m not.  You’re absolutely repulsive. 

Vince:  Damn it’s like that?

Me:  Yes it is you disgusting fat fuck.  Good night.  Good bye.  And lose my number.  Now go piss on that! 

I threw my napkin down on the table and walked out.  Thank goodness I didn’t waste a good outfit on this fool!  Of course the valet was taking forever to bring my damn car around.  I was hoping and praying my car would hurry up and come around.  But that damn Murphy’s Law clearly has a bone to pick with me.  And “Vince” walked out.

Vince:  Look, I was just playing.  Seriously I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to take things too far.

It was hard for me to even look at him.  What made this man think that I would want his diabetic, high cholesterol piss anywhere near my home let alone my body?  Who the fuck does that type of nasty shit?  He stood there, all 350 pounds of him.  He now looked repulsive.  And WHERE THE FUCK WAS MY DAMN CAR???!!!!

Me:  Have I given off any type of vibe that I would think that was remotely funny?

Vince:  I know, like I said I took things too far and I’m really sorry.  Please let me make that up to you.

Me:  I thought you were a different type of man.  But clearly I was wrong.  I’m not even interested in being friends with you.  Have a nice life.

Vince:  I understand and I hope you can one day accept my apology.

Luckily my car had finally made its away back from the valet.  What in the hell was going on with these men?  I met one who was a swinger, another one who suggested I wear knee pads, and now a fat fuck that was into Golden Showers?  I know I am not putting out a vibe that I am remotely into that kind of shit.  As I drove off I had to repeat my mantra…

Do not become bitter.  All men are not alike.  You have to kiss frogs to get to your prince.

City Sky

I looked at the brightest star and the thought suddenly occurred to me. Right now at this very moment, my soul mate could be looking at that same star wondering where I was.

Where in the hell was my prince?!  Up to this point not only have I kissed multiple frogs, I even married a demon.  How many more lessons, life experiences, and bad dates do I have to go on before I experience bliss?  I even attempted to give Professor Klump a chance in an effort to stop being shallow and look where that got me.  I have to continue to believe and have faith that the right man is out there.  I guess these shitty experiences make it even more special when you finally find your prince.  The key is remaining hopeful. The second you lose hope is the point in time where you do become bitter.  I decided to make a right on Mulholland and pull over and take a moment to get out of my car and just take a second to stop.  At times, you can find yourself on this never ending merry go round called “Life.”  Sometimes you go round and round and it becomes monotonous.  Lately that’s how I felt.  The dating world can push you down, drag your through the mud, and leaving you feeling empty and alone.  It’s at those moments when you just have to stop and get off the ride and catch you breath.  I had finally reached that point.  So I did just that.  I stopped.  I put my top down.  And I sat in my car looking up at the stars.  I looked at the brightest star and the thought suddenly occurred to me.  Right now at this very moment, my soul mate could be looking at that same star wondering where I was.  Praying for God to send me to him.  What a refreshing thought!  No matter how bad it got, I knew that he was out there looking for me and eventually we are going to find each other. But until then, I vowed I would no longer settle, second guess, and doubt what I need and deserve.  I made the decision to continue to believe and have faith that he is coming soon.  And what a lucky man he will be.  That thought left me in a true Golden State…      

Monique K.Bradley



I can be found on: Facebook | Twitter | Google+

The Wicked Bitch of the West


Don’t make me release my flying monkeys!!!

I decided to take a little dating hiatus.  I was enjoying the highs of dating but the lows were honestly beginning to get on my damn nerves.  To be honest I was TIRED of dating randoms just because.    I also wanted to enjoy some “me” time.  I was in the midst of organizing my closets when I got a random text message from “Randy.”

Hey what’s going on?

Some men really don’t know how to take no for a damn answer.  Why can’t the guys that I am actually attracted to be as ambitious and unrelenting?!   I met “Randy” 2 years ago when I was on vacation in Miami.  He bought me and my girls’ drinks.  We exchanged numbers, in my mind it was just on a friendship tip.  I was not attracted to him.  He immediately texted me the next day and asked me out to lunch.  Naturally I said no.  Seriously, what fool would be out having lunch in public with a guy they aren’t into in South Beach Miami.  What if a man I was attracted to saw us out?  He would assume we were a couple and I wasn’t about to have that misconception happen.  “Randy” continued to call me and text me.  Then came the Facebook friend request.  I thought there is no harm in me accepting his friendship request.  But then in a space of one hour he had gone through all of my photos and commented on 90% of them.  I posted I was heading out to NYC on business travel one day and  ironically, he called me a day later to tell me he was heading to NYC for business travel later that month.   He asked me out to dinner and I accepted.  But I called my girlfriend to come with me.  There was something creepy about “Randy.”  I couldn’t put my finger on it but he was just strange.  My friend agreed.  As she put it, Since you don’t like him we can have fun with him and ask all kinds of crazy ass questions.  Okay, I know it was mean.  Shoot me.  I can be a bitch.  But it was a fun plan.  We headed to Budhakhan to meet “Randy.”  When he walked into the restaurant my non-attraction to him was confirmed.  Let me be clear.  “Randy” wasn’t an ugly man he just wasn’t my type.  We proceeded to the dinner table where my girlfriend and I drilled him with questions.  He took it like a champ.  We proceeded to leave the restaurant and he gave me a hug before hailing me a cab.  When he hugged me he whispered in my ear.

Randy:  Why don’t we take a cab together?

I looked at him like he had two heads.  And then that creepy feeling set in again.  Something in his eyes screamed I AM A WEIRDO!

Me:  That’s okay Randy.  I have an early day tomorrow.  Have a nice night.  Thanks for dinner.

“Randy” continued to call me and text me and I simply ignored him.  A month later I was on Facebook and I noticed on my timeline that “Randy” was now in a relationship.   I was thrilled for him.  I even liked the status.  And within an hour I got the text from “Randy.”

Randy:  Hey what have you been up to?

I figured since he was now in a relationship there was no harm in being friends with him.

Me:  Just working and travelling.  How are you?

Randy:  I’m good.  Can I ask you a question?

Me: Sure.  What’s up?

Randy:  Did I do something to offend you?  When we got back from New York you stopped returning my calls and texts.

I rolled my eyes.  Seriously, if a woman sent a man the same text we would be pushed into the crazy category within 30 seconds.  I wanted to say, I stopped accepting your calls because you’re weird and creepy.  But I decided to be nice.

Me:  I don’t do long distance relationships.

Randy:  We could have made it work.  We both travel a lot.  I wouldn’t mind moving to California.

I looked at the phone because clearly I was seeing things.  This man was allegedly in a relationship.  I wasn’t in the mood to deal with him and I had tried to be nice.

Me:  That’s null and void.  I see you’re in a relationship.  Congrats!  I hope you’re behaving.

Randy:  I never behave.  😉  It should have been you.


Why can’t the guys that I am actually attracted to be as ambitious and unrelenting?!

That’s when I snapped.  I had tried to be polite.  I had tried to give him a hint that I wasn’t interested.  But clearly this fool wasn’t taking the hint.

Me:  I was not nor will ever be interested in you.  So it would have never been me.  If I was interested I am glad I didn’t take you up on that offer if this is how you communicate with women when you’re in a relationship.

Randy:  Why do you have to be so mean?  I have been nothing but nice to you and you are just so mean.

Me:  Randy, go call your girlfriend and lose my number.

I rolled my eyes and headed to Le Petit Four on Sunset Plaza Drive to have a nice lunch by myself.  That’s also one of the benefits to taking some time to yourself.  Instead of going on dates with randoms  I took myself out for great dates.  As I sat there having a glass of Nobilo Sauvignon Blanc for some strange reason “Randy’s” last text resonated with me.  Why do you have to be so mean?  I have been nothing but nice to you.  As I sat in the beautiful 75 degree weather having a glass of wine and eating my Chinese Chicken Salad I had flash back to all the moments when I found myself “checking” a man.  I flashed back to the times I would just ignore texts and phone calls instead of being clear and saying to a man that I’m just not interested.  I think sometimes I figured if I am extra mean to a man he’ll get the hint and run away.  And again “Randy’s” statement kept playing in my mind like a broken record.  Why do you have to be so mean… why do you have to be so mean… Why do you have to be so mean…  By the time I had my second glass of wine it became crystal clear to me… I AM A BITCH!  I don’t know when this happened.  Perhaps it was a defense mechanism.  With “Randy” all I had to do was tell him I wasn’t interested.  That would have been the grown up mature thing to do.  Did my divorce, and numerous bad dates, and dating disappointments turn me into the Wicked Bitch of the West?  There was once a time when I was so sweet.  Did all of my dating baggage have me releasing my flying monkeys onto these unsuspecting victims of my wrath?  I took a deep breath and leaned back in my chair and sat with my thought for a few minutes.  I really had to get better with how I treated men.  Perhaps my evil ways was now becoming my Karma and this is why I hadn’t met the right guy.  That’s when my phone rang and it was one of my best friends.

Am I a Bitch

By the time I had my second glass of wine it became crystal clear to me… I AM A BITCH! I don’t know when this happened. Perhaps it was a defense mechanism.

Girlfriend:  Girl who the fuck is “Randy?”

Me: This annoying guy that I met in Miami a few years ago, why?

Girlfriend: He poked me on FB and then sent me an inbox asking if he could get to know me.

Me:  What?!

Girlfriend:  Yes girl!  He was like, “Can I get to know you.”  And I was like, “Do I know you?”  And he then said, “You don’t know me, but I can make it worth your while.”

Me:  You have got to be kidding me!

Girlfriend:  I kid you not.  I immediately blocked him.

Me:  Girl that fool is crazy!


Black Women Laughing

There’s nothing like a good laugh with your girlfriend in times of self doubt!

She and I had a good laugh.  When I hung up the phone with her.  I immediately deleted and blocked his ass from Facebook.  He wasn’t even worth sending a text or inboxing him about how inappropriate that was.  But I had a good laugh with myself.  Lately I found myself questioning a lot about how I date and why I do what I do.  I realized I know what I’m doing.  Granted, I did acknowledge that I needed to do better with being upfront and truthful if I’m not interested in a man instead of being mean.  I also acknowledged that I did have a wall up that used being a bitch as a defense mechanism.  This was something I had to work on.  You see, in time when you have had major disappointments and hurts there are defense mechanisms that can hinder you in your current dating.  Mine happened to be bitchiness.  But the first step in fixing something is acknowledging you had a problem.  Now I can’t guarantee that I won’t check a clown in the future.  But at least I am now aware of the issue.  However, at the end of the day, some men deserve to be checked and cussed out and the flying monkeys released!  And “Randy” was certainly one of them!  If I had the power, I would create a tornado and have a house land on his stupid ass!  But for now, I will just work on becoming Glenda, the good witch….

Monique K.Bradley



I can be found on: Facebook | Twitter | Google+

The Missionary Position

Women in Bed

The Missionary Position

An acquaintance of mine was having a mixer for her clients.  She insisted that I attend.  I reluctantly headed over to Nic’s in Beverly Hills after work.   I was all about new adventures and breaking out of my comfort zone these days.  As soon as I walked into the door my friend ran up to me and gave me a big hug.  As she hugged me she whispered in my ear, “There’s someone here I want you to meet.”  Okay.  I didn’t mind getting set up.  It’s always nice to meet someone that came with references.  I would have preferred to get a heads up.  I might have gotten a little more dressed up for the occasion.  First things first, I headed over to the bar and got a Lemon Blush martini that Nic’s is so famous for.  As the bartender handed over my martini, my friend was leading a guy over to me.  He was probably about 5”9.  He was one of those guys who worked out… too much.  He was too damn buff/borderline stocky.  I could tell if he stopped working out those swollen muscles would turn into flab.  He wore glasses and had on a pair of slacks and a tucked in button down shirt.  He wasn’t unattractive but he wasn’t my type.  He was what I would call… Beige.  Meaning he didn’t do it for me, he was just plain and uneventful.  When I saw him my mind didn’t automatically think about him tearing my clothes off and throwing me on the bed and having his way with me.  But I wasn’t repulsed or turned off.  What most men don’t realize is most women know whether or not they want to fuck you within 5 minutes of meeting a guy.  But one of two things happen:

1-       We meet and are turned on by you and figuring out ways to hold out and then a man will say or do something so stupid they lose their chance of getting any

2-      We meet and there isn’t an initial connection but within time you sweep us off our feet that before we realize it we are in a vertical position in the midst of passion.

“Warren” was definitely in category 2.  My friend introduced us and she was grinning from ear to ear like she won a pageant.  “Warren” was in finance and had recently started his own financial consulting company.  He was 38, never married, and no kids.  We made our introductions and I politely excused myself and had a one on one with my girlfriend.  I was always leery of a single girlfriend introducing me to a guy.  My first question was if he was so great why in the hell didn’t she date him?  Her response was the typical response I get when I asked that question.  “Girl, he’s like a brother to me.”  I looked her in her eyes took a sip of my cocktail.  Mmmmm…hmmm.  A brother?  I read through her bullshit.  He was too short, too stocky and too nerdy and she was pushing this man off on me.  I looked around the mixer and didn’t see anyone worth getting to know.   When I saw “Warren” sitting at a table by himself drinking a beer I decided to go have a conversation with him.  The traffic was still heavy heading back over the hill and I certainly wasn’t in the mood to unleash my road rage by sitting in traffic.  I took a deep breath, ordered another martini and went over to “Warren.”

Me:  Is anyone sitting here?

Warren:  You are.

Me:  Are you having fun?

Warren:  It’s alright.  You know your girl threatened if I didn’t come here tonight I would be losing one of my testicles.

Let me find out Mr. Stocky had a sense of humor.  I sat there and talked to him for the next hour.  He had a great sense of humor and was somewhat charming.  It was definitely a pleasant surprise.

Warren:  I would love to take you out this weekend.

Me:  Really?  Where? 

Warren:  Let me surprise you.  What’s your favorite kind of food?

Me:  I love sushi. 

Warren:  Say no more.  I’ll pick you up Saturday at 7.

Me:  I don’t usually let strangers pick me up.  You could be a serial killer or some shit like that.

Warren:  You have a reliable reference.  Besides I’m kind of old school.  I like courting a woman.

Before I knew it I was giving “Warren” my address and cell phone number.  Saturday rolled around and I found myself meeting “Warren” outside of my home in his silver corvette.  YUCK!!!  I always considered Corvettes to be the poor man’s Porsche.  I hated them.  They were so… common.  But whatever, I got into his pride and joy.  I could tell he really thought he was doing something.  Then of course, as usual I had to talk to my inner diva.  “Stop being a bitch.  Give the guy a chance.”  I found myself constantly having to tame my inner diva these days.  I rolled my eyes and decided to make the best of the evening.  While we were in the car his mother called.  Instead of taking her off speaker phone Warren answered it.

Warren:  Hey mom!  What’s up?

Warren’s Mom:  Just checking on my baby.

Warren:  I’m good.  I’m heading out to dinner with the young lady I told you about.

What the fuck?  He told his mother about me.  I wasn’t ready for all of this.  Even worse, was this man a momma’s boy?  I was married to one of those and the thought of being with another momma’s boy sent me into panic mode.   I wanted to jump out of the moving car.

Warren’s Mom:  Well hello there!

Me:  Uh…. Hello.

Warren’s Mom:  You all have fun now.  Take care of my boy.

Me:  Uh…Okay.

I looked over at “Warren” and he was beaming with joy.  This is why I take my own car to dates.  I was officially stuck with him for the rest of the night.  When we got to valet and went up the elevator we were greeted with a spectacular view of downtown LA.  He took me to Takami Sushi.  I was pleasantly surprised.  Perhaps I was rushing to judgment on “Warren.”   Suddenly the stocky framed nerdy guy was automatically elevated to possible boyfriend status.  When the waitress came up to the table he ordered a bottle of expensive Zinfandel Red Wine.  I was impressed.  He knew his wines.  Sometimes great things are discovered in stocky packages.  The conversation ensued.

Bad Date

This was the only thing I hated about dating, that awkward conversation that must happen. You know the typical. Why are you single? What are you looking for? If I could skip over that shit, dating would be so much easier….

Warren:  I hope I picked a good spot.

Me:  You picked well.  I’m so used to trying to control things so I am pleasantly surprised.

Warren:  Good!  So, what’s your story? 

Oh shit.  I hated that question.  This was the only thing I hated about dating, that awkward conversation that must happen.  You know the typical.  Why are you single?  What are you looking for?  If I could skip over that shit, dating would be so much easier.

Me:  What do you mean?

Warren:  You’re obviously a beautiful woman.  Why hasn’t someone snatched you up?

I became an expert at diverting those kinds of questions.

Me:  Why hasn’t someone snatched you up?

Warren:  Who me?  I have no idea.  I know I’m sexy…

He then leaned back in his chair and simulated the act of tweaking his nipples.  He thought he was being funny.  But I was disgusted.  I came close to throwing up in my mouth.  I took a chug of my wine.  Looked out the window at the beautiful skyline of Downtown LA and tried not to run out of the restaurant.  I think “Warren” sensed my disgust and tried to back pedal.

Warren: There was once a time when I was so pressed to get married.  It was all I wanted.   I found myself getting depressed because I couldn’t meet the right woman.  Then I made the decision to let go and let God.

Me:  I can certainly understand that.  So you’re a very religious man,

Warren:  Absolutely.  I love the Lord.

Me:  Okay.

Warren:  I’m very active in my church.  Many people think I have the gift to eventually become a Pastor.

I took another chug of my wine.  I had been around those super duper religious folks who judged everyone and were the most hypercritical people you could ever meet.  I knew I wanted a man who was a Christian and who was spiritual but I had no intentions of being trapped by one of those super duper religious men again.  I had just gotten out of that and realized that wasn’t for me.  But I decided to hear this man out.  I couldn’t assume that all people were alike.  I was keenly aware that I still had left over crumbs from my marriage and I didn’t want to let that baggage ruin it for the next guy.

ME:  A Pastor?  That would mean if you and I ended up together I would be a first lady?

Warren:  Yeah.  I would expect you to become active in my church as well.  I run the youth ministry and Sunday school.  It is definitely a calling for me.

I immediately had flashback to being forced to go to my ex’s church and living short of his expectations.  As well as the hypocrisy of what was preached and what was being practiced.  Don’t get me wrong.  I go to church every Sunday and I know I wouldn’t be where I was if it wasn’t for my faith.  But the idea of being with another man who was blinded by his “religious beliefs” freaked me out.

Me:  I already have a church home of my own that I love.

Warren:  You’d like my church. 

Me:  So you’re looking for a missionary type huh?

Warren:  I never thought of it like that.  But I am looking for a woman of the cloth.

ME: So once you become Pastor of you church.  What if one of your congregants came in here and saw you and I sitting here having a bottle of this wine?

Warren:  That wouldn’t happen.  Once I dedicated my life to the Lord in that way, I would no longer give in to the flesh.

I suddenly envisioned myself wearing calf length skirts, white gloves, and a big hat.  I thought about the idea of never having wine.  Or worse yet, sneaking it when my “husband” was preaching at his church.  I thought about once again being in the bondage.  And I freaked out.  I literally had a hot flash.

Church WOman

I suddenly envisioned myself wearing thigh length skirts, white gloves, and a big hat. I thought about the idea of never having wine. Or worse yet, sneaking it when my “husband” was preaching at his church…

Warren:  Are you alright?

Me:  (fanning myself with a napkin) I’m sorry Warren.  But I just got out of a situation where I was with a “religious” man and it was complete hypocrisy.  I’m not a missionary.  I like my wine, I like to party, I like to live life on my own terms.  Don’t get me wrong.  I go to church.  I pray every day.  And I know if it weren’t for my faith I wouldn’t have made it to where I am now,  But I could never be a preacher’s wife or a Missionary.  Is that what you ultimately are looking for?

Warren:  (long awkward pause)  Well, yes.  It is.

Me:  Then I’m not the one for you.

We left dinner and the ride home was uncomfortably silent.  “Warren” walked me to my door.  And suddenly he grabbed for me and kissed me and shoved his tongue down my throat.  I pushed him away.  And he looked at me completely confused.

Me:  What is your problem?!   I don’t know you like that!  This is our first date.  I thought you were a man of the cloth!

Warren:  I’m not yet.  Can I come inside?

Me:  Are you serious?

Warren looked at me confused.  I went into my house and slammed the door in his face.  I realized I probably over reacted. But I could not ever put myself into a situation when I was boxed into the ideology of someone else and their wants.  And again, I don’t want to come off like I am a heathen.  But I am not a missionary.  The idea of become a Pastor’s wife was not for me.  I realized “Warren” was one of those guys who had a picture of what his life was supposed to be and any woman who came into his life had to be willing to fit into his picture.  More importantly, that wasn’t who “Warren” was.  I never wanted to be in a situation where a man was conflicted between who he really and truly was and what he thought he was supposed to be.


You don’t have to be a Missionary to realize that at the end of the day this dating thing and meeting Mr. Right isn’t in your own hands. You had to be willing to ask for help and guidance. And I was finally at peace….

After I washed my face and put on my pajamas.  I couldn’t sleep.  I was tossing and turning.  So I got out of the bed and went into my meditation room.  I got on my knees and I prayed.  I prayed that I would find the husband God wanted me to have.  I prayed that all the residuals from my broken hurt were cleared.  I prayed that I met the man who was right for me.  More importantly when I met him I wouldn’t mess it up and he would be ready.  I finally reached a point where I knew I couldn’t do it on my own.  After I finished praying, I got back into my bed and I fell to sleep right away.  I knew I had faith that I was going to get it right.  I surrendered and acknowledged that it was no longer in my hands.  You don’t have to be a Missionary to realize that at the end of the day this dating thing and meeting Mr. Right isn’t in your own hands.  You had to be willing to ask for help and guidance.  And I was finally at peace….

Monique K.Bradley



I can be found on: Facebook | Twitter | Google+