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-  “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+

Single Black Female.. SBF


Ask yourself… what do these negative articles about SBF (single black females) do to boost your self esteem? NOTHING!!!

Every year these bullshit articles/blogs come out about single black women and the struggle of finding good black men.  As of late I have been bombarded with these various articles and blogs.  In the first blog a single woman of 40 writes about how she has made herself okay with the fact that she more than likely will never have kids or a marriage.  She is beautiful, successful, and smart but she has not been able to find her significant other so she has made herself okay with the idea of having no kids and being by herself.  The next article a woman in her late 30’s discusses her research on post feminist women (herself included) who are successful and should accept that more than likely they will have to end up with a man that is either not as successful as she is or a man who is successful but is a playboy because statistically speaking that is the best society has to offer.  She even went into all the research she did for the article interviewing women with the same perspective!  Then there is the annual article about how black women should consider dating outside of their race in order to find happiness since their options for black men are limited.  It goes on to addresses the increase of black men who are in prison, gay, or not dating black woman so therefore a single black woman should either a) make themselves okay with the idea that they will never find true love, b) date outside of their race, or c) date beneath them. Throw out the idea that there is a perfect man out there for them and reside themselves with the idea of settling.

This is absolute total bullshit and women are starting to believe it.  Not only are they starting to accept this foolery but they go as far as sending these ignorant articles out to their friends on Facebook and then have people liking the status or commenting on it.  Do not get me wrong, if you are interested in dating outside of your race.  By all means do so.  Hell, when I was in Paris over the summer I saw some fine ass European men that definitely had me reconsidering my ideal man.  And every time I see Henry Cavil I have a few minutes of imagining what our mixed children would look like.  I see my future children the coloring of café au lait with wild curly blondish brown hair.  Okay I digressed…   My point is I am not against black women dating outside of their race if they chose to not as a fall back plan because of a false belief there isn’t a black man out there for them.  I also have friends who are dating or married to men who do not make as much money as them.  And again, that is fine as long as that women isn’t settling for something she doesn’t want because she thinks it is not possible to find it.

It is already bad enough I have friends reading this crap and posting it but now MEN are reading these articles and starting to believe their own hype.  So you have successful, single, black men who happen to be on Facebook reading these posts and the comments and believing that they are a rarity and therefore bringing this into their dating life.  I remember reading one of these articles during the aftermath of my divorce.  (These articles tend to emerge when you’re already at you most vulnerable place).  I was questioning everything about myself.  My future as a newly divorced woman back on the dating scene, would I ever be able to love again, was I deserving of a real and healthy relationship.  Any dating self doubt I had was right on the surface.  And I just so happened to read one of those depressing articles.

Enter  “Edward” a hotelier from the east coast.  We met years ago when I had first started dating my ex husband.  He tried to ask me out and I was in a relationship so I of course I refused.  I am sure I was one of the few women who had ever turned him down.  As fate would have it, when I went to South Beach for a post divorce weekend of relaxation with the girls I ran into him at a pool party.  He was looking good.  Tall, chocolate, and rich.  He had just opened his second hotel in Atlanta.  Granted I lived in LA and he was on the east coast we exchanged numbers and started talking everyday over the phone.  He was in the process of opening another boutique hotel in LA and was spending more time on the west coast.  It was a perfect introduction into dating after the divorce.  The distance was great because it allowed us to really get to know each other and gave me the space to take my time. “Edward” was one of the most arrogant men I ever met in my life.  In the beginning his self confidence was a turn on.  The arrogance I found extremely sexy and charming when I first met him was beginning to get on my damn nerves.  If he wasn’t talking about his latest project, he was talking about his Maserati  or his latest painting he bought for his house.  Everything was about “Edward.”  I was merely an audience in the “Edward Show.”  And I was really trying to work with him.  Then he started making little comments that rubbed me the wrong way.

Edward:  What are you doing tonight?

Me:  I’m going out with my girlfriends to a birthday party.

Edward:  You’re going out again?  Did your ex-husband  let you go out as much?

Me:  What do you mean “let” me go out?  I don’t need anyone’s permission to go out.  What’s your point?

Edward:  Calm down, I was just asking.  You’re always out.  You should stay home and relax.

Me:  Edward, I’ll call you in the morning.

Then there was the time he was in town for MY birthday weekend and he took me with him to his tailor where he spent 3 hours (literally no over exaggeration) picking out shit for himself!  Custom shirts, suits, ties, cuff links.  You name it he bought it.  Did the bastard even ask me if I wanted as much as a handkerchief?!  Ummmm… no!

The straw that broke the camel’s back was one night when we went out to dinner at Boa Steakhouse in Beverly Hills.  This is one of my favorite spots.  I do not eat red meat but I find steakhouses usually have the BEST sides.  I have no idea how we got onto this conversation about SBF.  But somehow he managed to bring it up.

Edward:  I know a lot of successful single black women out there.

Me:  I know a lot of successful single black men too. (trying to hide the annoyance in my voice)

Edward:  I know, but it’s different for men we have more options than y’all do.  I think the problem with successful single black women is they don’t know how to let the man be the man.  Y’all are always trying to control shit.

Me:  (taking a sip of the $200 bottle of Caymus Cabernet he just ordered) What do you mean?

Edward:  I think women who make a lot of money no longer know how to be submissive.  And that’s why it’s hard for them to find a good man.

Me: What makes you think it’s hard for them to find a good man?  I know a lot of white women, Asian women, and Latina women who are successful and single as well.  So what’s your theory behind them? (Right as a I said this, in walks Kobe Bryant with Vanessa Bryant holding hands)

Edward:   (tilting his head towards Kobe and Vanessa smirking) Well that’s different because they have their pick of men.  Black women don’t.

Me:  You’re single.  Why haven’t you landed a woman yet? 

Edward:  Because I can be selective.  I have a lot of options.  Besides I’m a man.  My biological clock isn’t ticking.  I talk to women all the time about how it is hard to find a good black man.  I also read those articles that my homegirls post on Facebook.  I’m not the first person to state these facts.  (Swirls the wine in his glass and arrogantly takes a sip).

Me:  I wouldn’t necessarily call them facts.  I don’t subscribe to that.

Edward: I think a lot of you successful single black women need to lower your standards.  Or else you’ll find yourself 40 and alone.

Me:  That’s absolute bullshit.

Edward: Look I’m not the one who made this up.  Talk to your girls who post the articles.  I read all of them and I know I’m a rarity…  Finish your food babe.


“It’s different for men we have more options than y’all do. I think the problem with successful single black females is they don’t know how to let the man be the man.”

I sat there and visualized myself stabbing him with my fork, getting up and splashing my wine in his face, but decided against it.  The thought was refreshing.  After leaving dinner I was disgusted, annoyed, and I even had a moment of thinking he might be right.  There I sat across from an arrogant asshole who thought he was God’s gift to women and the person I had to blame for that was the women who fed into the bogus articles.  Hell, if I’m honest with myself, I ended up marrying the wrong man because deep down inside, I thought he was the best I could get.  I was tired of the dating scene and I was ready to settle down.  I chose to overlook that we had absolutely nothing in common but he had the right criteria on paper.  That belief had me in a shitty relationship.  I do have a lot of beautiful and successful single friends who are looking for love.  And the dating scene is a struggle.  And it is at moments like this when I began to question all aspects of being a single black female (SBF).  I began to think that perhaps being in a shitty marriage was better than being alone.  At these low points, these stupid ass articles come out and I begin to fall for the hype.  And for a mere second I question my decisions and my concept on love and finding a true soul mate.

Then my intellectual inner loving mother smacks me into reality.  The reality is it is far better to be single and alone than married and alone.  I have such a full and great life that anyone I allow to enter into it has to enhance it and bring something to the table.  The bigger reality is we as women must STOP reading and supporting these articles.  And even more so, we MUST stop sharing them.  What’s happening is some men are reading them and believing the hype and thinking that single black females are desperate and will put up with anything when that really isn’t the case.  How can we get men to respect us and honor us if we put out there that it is so hard to find a good one?  I want to start a movement.  Moving forward if there are any of these articles out, do not comment on them, do not post them, do not believe them, and most of all STOP telling men how hard it is to find a god man!  You’re fucking it up for the rest of us!!!!!  You must ask yourself what is the purpose of these articles?  What good does it do?  Why not post articles about women in their 30’s and 40’s finding true love because they did not settle and believe the hype?  We must support each other in our search for Mr. Right.  I did the settling leg work for you and I can confirm it is not worth it.  There are good black men out there.  Think of it, at this very moment there is a man out there who is searching, praying, and hoping to find his soul mate.  It could be you.  Do not give up hope and do not settle.  In the meantime, enjoy your time as an SBF…



Monique K.Bradley



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