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Sometimes you just have to laugh to keep from crying or throwing your computer across the room, or both. My sister sent to be a link to an article from 2011 titled, and I quote: “Top Twelve Reasons Why So Many Good Black Men Are Still Single”. After reading the first reason I knew, a response to this epic bullshit would make a great #singlegirlproblems post.

The post can be found here at the afro.com and the oh so “informative podcast” that is referenced, “The Victory Unlimited Show”, is well from this black woman’s point of view, the reason why any good black man who listens to the show is still single.

If you have glanced at the post and have comeback to reality, you know why I am so hype. I mean really dude? Really? My resting bitch face is so on point right now, so without any further delay here is my response to: “The Top Twelve Reasons Why So Many Good Black Men Are Still Single: (disclaimer: please do not drink anything while reading this. I am not responsible for any damage to your computer caused by your drink flying out of your mouth.)

1.) They keep meeting woman with unrealistic expectations for what they want in a man. I’m so sorry if I want a man to have a job and a place to live. Last time I checked that wasn’t unrealistic, it was called being a responsible adult.

2.) They keep meeting women who put them in the wrong category by writing them off to quickly as not being “their type”. Your type may be video vixen. I am not a vide vixen. Therefore, I am not your type. The end. It’s very cut and dry when you think of it that way.

3.) They’re not wanted because they are not needed. Too many women have told them they don’t “need” a man. I don’t need a man to pay my bills or take care of me. I need a man to be a companion, husband, father, soul mate, my other half. If you can’t handle that then guess what Boo? You’re absolutely right. I don’t need you.

4.) They keep meeting black women who don’t respect them just because they “are” black men. And I want you to respect me for being a black woman. Respect is a two-way street. To get respect, you have to give it. Plan and simple.

5.) They keep failing women’s Girlfriend Approval Test. If the woman’s friends don’t like them, then they woman won’t give them a chance either. I value my girlfriends’ opinions. They speak the truth. You may be speaking to get me in bed. Guess who I am going to trust?

6.) They keep meeting women who are not interested in them, but only in how much money they make. Then stop flaunting your money around like freakin’ Floyd Mayweather. Guess what? If all you do is buy a woman things, they will only see you as a wallet. Start being a man and she will see you as one.

7.) They’re nobody until somebody loves them. Not enough women see them as a prize unless they see a lot of other women chasing after them first.  Doesn’t your mother love you? I can’t responsible for your deep rooted, “Mommy didn’t give enough hugs when I was 4 complex”. As Mama Rupaul always says,” If you can’t love yourself, how the hell you gonna love somebody else? Can I get an Amen”? Yes, Honey. Amen.

8.) They meet too many women who don’t really know what they want. Do you know what you really want? Let’s be serious. Do you know what type of women you are looking for? You can’t say that a woman doesn’t know what she wants if you can even begin to articulate what you want.

9.) They meet too many women who believe that single, good black men are “too good to be true.” Le sigh. How many black men think a smart, single, educated black woman is too good to be true? Well here I am.

10.) They’re the right man at the wrong time. Life is all about timing. Maybe she is not into dating right now? Maybe you failed to see that she is married right now. Maybe you didn’t notice that she didn’t want to talk to you right now.

11.) They meet too many women who don’t recognize a good man when they see one. Many black men don’t recognize a good black woman when they see one. (Drops mic and walks away.)

12.) They don’t promote all the great things about themselves boldly or consistently enough to enough women. So you need to be put on a pedestal with your accomplishments scrolling behind you like movie credits for you to feel good about yourself? That sounds like a personal problem, Bro.

Not one of these reasons has anything to do with the man. Not one. It is really easy to say, I am single because everyone else it messed up. Maybe you need to get your shit together, figure out what you want in life and then go get it. That’s what you want women to do. We need to have it all. In shape, educated, financially stable, look good, smell good, dress well, hair done, nails, done, cook, clean, help you, help the family. The list goes on. But of course, as soon as this is brought to a man’s attention it’s, “Nah, we just want you to be yourself.” But when I am myself, I’m not all that you want me to be, therefore, not good enough for you. It’s a fucked up dynamic.

While you figure out what you want and please take your time, I’m gonna be over here. Still single.

Later Days,

B

Bianca Just Being Bianca S

Welcome! Bienvenue! Willkommen! Aloha! Salve! Bem-vido! Welkom! Bonvenon! Welcome to Being Bianca S, the site formerly known as Just Bee You.

BiancaLogoYippee Skippy! I am beyond super excited about this new direction and the opportunities that it brings. After a lot of time away thanks to Frankie, I had an Oprah light bulb moment. Sometimes you have to take a step back to go forward. And I am ready to move! Why was I just limiting myself to one thing? Why was I so focused on fitness when I am so much more? Well honey child, those days are over! Being Bianca S will be all about me, my fitness journey and accountability groups, knitting exploits, and of course #singlegirlproblems has made the leap over to its new home (how could I leave that behind!). Also in the works are such epic blogs as: “What’s in my ears?” (playlist and music choices), Top 10 lists (oh the choices! Expect epic randomness), and whatever comes to mind or happens to me on any given day.

But this is not just about me, even though the site is called Being Bianca S. This site is for you too! I am excellent at sharing! If you have a topic you want to discuss, my thoughts on a particular issue, or is you would like t be a guest blogger, drop me at line at bianca@beingbiancas.com (that felt so weird, yet so cool to type).

So there you have it. I’m making sure that all the T’s are crossed and I’s are dotted, and still fine tuning this bad boy so things may move, shift, and randomly appear. But I just wanted to shout from the rooftops that my baby blog has been reborn! I am such a proud mommy right now (Don’t tell the fur kids).

So sit back, fasten your seat belt, and get ready for the wild ride that Being Bianca S. will be!

Later Days,

B

#singlegirlproblems

I attend a bi-weekly happy hour of politically minded people in Philadelphia during the summer. It’s a chance to catch up with friends, meet new people, and unwind after a crazy day of work, and raise money for a charitable organization. It is also the perfect place, if you’re me, to watch the social interactions to figure out why you’re still single.

This happy hour is a melting pot of young, old, professional, and not really professional people coming out for a common cause. You have your core group (me included) that come out to each event and others who come and go. There is no guessing what the room will look like.You would think that I would be able to talk to someone right? I did last week, but not before this lovely interaction that I have titled…The Old Men and The Preschoolers. Please enjoy…

I arrived the happy hour early, but I do so for logistical purposes. I get one drink and an appetizer in before the crowd attacks the bar and it takes forever to get served. This also gives my time to secure a prime observation point (table) for my group to survey the area. I noticed 3 attractive men had sat down at the table right next to me. “Jackpot!!” I think to myself. “Today is the day that my faith in  Cupid’s golden arrow is restored.” Let’s just say that chubby cherub has not made his way back on my Christmas card list.

These three men chatted among themselves, not even giving me a second look. I was about to be bold and strike up a conversation when three “women”(they were ridiculously young) approached their table and were immediately invited to join the conversation. WTF times infinity?!? Was I that horrid looking or was I just above their age range. Now I am all Jane Goodall Gorillas in the Mist intrigued about the sight beside me. I was slightly hurt by their objection until one of the gentleman came back with a blue drink. Yes, it was blue. Like bright ass blue. I have not had anything blue to drink since I shared a fish bowl with someone at Ice Night Club. I silently thanked them for not paying attention to me and continued my scientific observation. Yet, I was jealous when the same mane brought a round of drinks for the wee lasses. Call it instinct.

The older man was trying to have a collegiate conversation with a toddler while sipping a spiked juice box. Is this what I have to compete with? My ovaries just shriveled up. Maybe it’s time to start thinking about freezing my eggs. I know how what bra to wear with a strapless dress! Yes ladies, hold up the girls! But I digress. Seriously do have to start dating older because men my age are scoping potential life partners at the playground?

Does my resting bitch face serve as a fortress for any potential suitors? I know, everything is written on my face. Trust me. If you think someone said something funky, just look at my face. You’ll know right away. If anyone knows a cure for RBF, please let me know! Thanks in advance.

As soon as ALL of my faith in humanity was almost flushed down the toilet of life, an acquaintance and I started chatting, and full disclosure, the talking turned into flirting. And it was fun!!! And here’s the kicker…. he’s younger than me!

Hey, if those three guys can talk to younger women, hell, I’m going to talk to a younger man.

BOOM!

Later Days
B

#singlegirlproblems

You know you are of a certain age when you have at least one summer/fall wedding to attend each year. This year is no different. I was so excited to get my invitation. I seriously I ran up to my apartment and carefully opened the invitation, with scissors so that I wouldn’t rip the envelope. I guess this attention to detail shows how much I don’t go out.

I made sure that I remembered to take the RSVP card with me so I could drop it off at the post office before work. I marked X by vegetarian before reading, “indicate the number of entrees.” My heart sank. I had just muffed up this pristine card with my black X. But wait, no I didn’t! I am the only one going. Crisis averted. Strike that…. yet another wedding that I will be attending solo. Bring out the booze.
All it takes is one little piece of paper to make you realize exactly how single you are. Like solo, single. Probably will be at the singles table single. Nope, you will be at a table full of couples and two  other single people single. Let’s find a beach house that has enough rooms that the two single people don’t have to share a room single. Single. Single. Single.

While I could right the next great American novel about the trials and tribulations of being single at a wedding, that would get me kicked off the happiness bandwagon. No good things comes to those who dwell in the negative. Well, maybe this kick ass blog, but that is besides the point.So here’s to another #singlegirladventure where there will be an open bar, and none of the single men in attendance will be interested in me.

Cheers!

Later Days,
B

#singlegirlproblems

Last week after taking myself out to dinner as a reward for
scoring an amazing deal on a Fendi bikini, I was waiting at the train station
for my ride on SEPTA. Sitting on the bench in front of me was a couple,
obviously smitten because they were all over each other. Like serious PDA.
Kissing, snuggling, hands down shirts, the whole deal.
Am I the only one who is completely annoyed with PDA? I mean
really. Do you really have to suck face in public for the whole entire world to
see? Do you think that people want to see you make out in the middle of Jefferson
Station? Relief washed over my body as my train approached; however, I did note
that the women of the pair was on my train, alone. Thank goodness. I do not
think that I could manage another 30 minutes subjected to round 2 of their middle
school make out session.
There are a couple ways that we could explain my visceral
reaction to what I saw. 1.) I am a total prude who believes all romantic
actions that may or may not be classified as foreplay should be kept in the
confines of a bedroom, hotel room, motel room, closet, and or any room with a
door that closes or 2.) I am completely jealous of what they have. I am going
to go with 1 and 2. When it comes to PDA, I can’t stand it. I am that old
church lady who is thinking, “Don’t they know any better? They need to get a
room.” Aren’t you uncomfortable that people are watching what you are doing
right now? I get uncomfortable eating crunchy food at work because it may annoy
people. On the other hand, I am completely jealous that I don’t have someone to
kiss me passionately in a public place and not care who is watching. We all
want what we don’t have right. We all want that romantic movie scene to be
real. For some rugged handsome man to see us from across the room, run towards
us, sweep us of our feet and away to our happily ever after. Single girls can
dream, right?
PDA is not for everyone, me included. But hey do what you
want to do. Just realize there may be a woman going through the #singlegirlstruggle
watching you wondering where the nearest hose is.
Later Days

 

B

#singlegirlproblems

Can any of my single ladies relate to this:

You are SUPER excited for a party or night out on the town. Like Christmas morning excited. You mark it on your calendar. You pick out the perfect outfit right down to the accessories, . You wait until the last possible moment to wash your hair so it’s nice, bouncy and clean. You SHAVE your legs and then what… DISASTER! The event is a utter and total flop. No one is giving you a second glance and the THOTs are ruling the room. Oh you haven’t of THOTs? That stands for “That Hoe over there.” No further explanation needed.

You walk out, not even buzzed and think to yourself. “I got dressed and shaved my legs for this? I just wasted a totally good outfit as you drive to the McDonald’s drive-thru to drown your sorrows in a milkshake and fries.

I can’t be the only one that this has happened to right?

But here’s the kicker. I do this ALL of the time. Well not every day, but enough to know that I should stay in my house with some wine and a good Netflix marathon instead of suffering from the inevitable disapointment. Am I just the eternal optimist who thinks, “maybe THIS will be the time the stars align. THIS time the man of my dreams will bump into my and whisk me away to his Tuscan villa.” Maybe I should stop watching Lifetime movies.

Is my overwhelming optimism setting me up for complete and total disappointment? A girl can dream for her Prince Charming with the Tuscan Villa right!! Or in all actuality, I am just going to the wrong events. The down side of being one of the “senior” members of my squad. Does that mean I have to start hanging out with older people??? Will I have to fight off men who are my dad’s age looking for a young honey?” Oh the heart palpitations have started. Relax, related, release…

I guess I am back as square one again. Finding a good hang out spot that is not overflowing with young boys who think they know everything and older men who are looking for a young second, third, or fourth wife.

I may or may not have just described my apartment.

The #singlegirlstruggle is real.

Later Days!

B

#singlegirlproblems

How did my little social experiment far this weekend? Fair to partly cloudy. The entire weekend wasn’t a bust, but Friday did not go well. I was excited to go out. Like really excited. It has been a while since I got all dressed up and went out for a night out on the town. I made sure all my chores were done, picked out an outfit that was comfortable, yet classy and headed out to North Shore Beach Club, a private pool and bar in Philly. Took me a little bit to make it to the spot due to some
road construction, but I did beat cover.Success. That was probably the highlight of the night. What met me beyond the doors was a total cluster fuck. I had to be one of the oldest people in the entire building. People were lounging on beach chairs scrolling through Facebook not paying attention to anyone, someone was thrown into the pool, and there were many people holding court at the bar. We will not even begin to describe the many questionable fashion choices.

After 3 drinks, I left. Yup, I hauled ass out of there. I couldn’t take it anymore. Luckily, I passed a McDonald’s on the way home. That was the second highlight of the night. I left at 9:45. I was home by 12:40 and that included my McD’s detour. There would have been a time that I would have stuck it out, hoping that the mood and vibe of the room changed. Not so much anymore. I had had enough of the selfies in the dark and high cut bathing suits and I was gone. Wisdom does come with age.

Saturday was a different story. I was invited to a house party for a friend’s birthday party. There was food, drink, music, laughs and good conversation. Sweet bliss. This was more my speed. A good time was had by all. I had such a wonderful time, which I paid for this morning (hey wine!)

So what was the verdict? Both of these events taught me one valuable lesson. I need to figure out where my tribe hangs out an frequent those places.I need to find my peeps!! And I can tell you that they are not at North Shore on a Friday night. Now that I know where they aren’t, I need to find out where they are…..

Sounds like this experiment is just getting started.

Later Days!
B

#singlegirlproblems

Thanks to C. Bug for commenting on my last #SGP post!  I know it was a while ago. Sorry about that 🙁 But thanks to her comment, I have decided to be bold and take action to solve my #singlegirlproblems. That’s right folks, Bianca is officially on the prowl. This tigress is ready to roar!

Should be Nala, but you get the idea

Time to buck and hit the social scene! And why not start out with a bang. Two events this weekend… Three if you count my normally scheduled bi-weekly happy hour. Yes, this girl is in it to win it, and by it, I mean a man. Just like C. Bug said, I need to be bold and just do it! So that is what I am going to do! And it scares the crap out of me. Feel the fear and do it anyway!

We all know about my lack of small talk skills and how I am “great” I am at meeting new people, so this will be a giant leap out of my solo comfort zone a snuggly goodness. But it is a leap that have to make if I ever want to be in a relationship, let alone get married and have kids. I guess they are right when they say the thing that scares you the most will bring you the greatest joy.

I hope they are right about that…

I guess I need to set some realistic expectations for myself. Like “Bianca, there is a 99.99% chance that your Prince Charming may be at this party on Sunday, but do not look for him in that has his pants below his ass. You have standards sweetheart.” But how do you let your guard down without seeming totally desperate? And is there a way to correct resting bitch face? If anyone knows, please pass your secret on to m

I could make a list of a thousand reasons why I should stay home and watch the Golden Girls while eating a pint of coconut milk ice cream, but where would that get me? Right where I am. A Single gilr with a lot of problems.

But something to so this week is not one of them!

Later Days
B

#singlegirlproblems

An Eeyore like black cloud has been hovering over my sweet little head
for the past week. I couldn’t figure what was up with me. Then I did some quick
calculations and it hit me in the face like a frying pan. I’ll be 35 in 6
months. I’m going through a mid-30’s crisis. Single. Alone. Mediocre job. One
pet away from a menagerie. The obligatory third wheel everywhere I go. Manless.
Kidless…. Please give me a moment while I pull myself out of the fetal
position and put down the Ben and Jerry’s.
Thank you. As I wallow away in my self
pity, something told me to check ok Cupid. And there waiting for me was this
little gem.
This is exactly how it was written…
richie2316: OMG. You look so sweet.. I m
richard and i m so new on this online stuff just searching profiles and i found
yours to be interesting.. I would love to know you more better.. You can always
txt me on (full phone number given) I will be waiting to get a text from you..
Its nice to meet you and i hope this goes a long way because with God all
things are possible.

Yes, with God I am able
to see that there is a reason I have been kept away from men such as Richie and
single for so long. Thank you Lord for protecting me from such ratchet
foolishness.
This entire message sounds like the first
5 minutes of a Lifetime movie. You know the one. Where the sweet young co-ed
thinks she is being nice to the charming, handsome man and gives him her
number. Only to be stalked by said charming, handsome man turned psycho, clingy
mad man who was just released from prison for stalking and attempting to kill
his ex-girlfriend.  You’ve seen it, right or the 20 just like it.
There are so many things wrong with this
message, besides the glaring grammatical errors. Where shall we start?
Are you really “new” to this online thing,
or have you found the one message that other women have responded to that you
post all the time
You want to get to know me better or more
better? How can you know me more better if we don’t know each other at all?
Nice to meet me? We haven’t met. Or have
you started to stalk me already? Should I call the cops and start carrying
mace?
You will be waiting for my text? Please do
not hold your breath sweet Richie. You may be waiting until Rachel figures out which
race she is.
And finally, my personal favorite, why are
you bringing the Lord into this. That is just sinful…. With that begin said,
In my Katt Williams voice,” why don’t you
send me somebody Jesus!”
Later Days!

 

B

#singlegirlproblems

Summer has officially descended upon Philadelphia which
means humidity will be wreaking havoc on my hair and allergies for the next
three months. Oh the joy of joys. And while somehow the furries and I survived
last summer without AC, I knew I was going to have to break down and get one
this year.

Or maybe not.
Thanks to the semi-hippie commune that I live in, I
have use of an air conditioner that was left behind by a previous tenant. Thank
the Lord! The second time it reached 90 this year, I trudged to the basement
and hauled that bad boy up to my apartment like it was my job. Dust, dirt, cobwebs,
and all.
Now…. How does one put in a window air conditioning unit??  I had central air in my last place, but I knew
the basics of installing a window unit. But it was the “holy shit, I hope this
bastard doesn’t fall out this window moments,” that caused a lot of trepidation
while installing my relief from the summer muggies.
Which brings us to this week’s #singlegirlproblem. If you’re
a single gal, when you need a man, there ain’t one around. Granted, I am very
handy. Extremely handy if I do say so myself (and since this is my blog, I
can). I can put together IKEA furniture like a boss. When it comes to jobs
around the house that require a.) brute strength b.) plumbing expertise c.) electrical
work, or d.) anything dealing with animals that I did not purposely bring into
my home, I am useless. Unless it is absolutely necessary as in the case when
you are single and live alone, to do such things. As I struggled with said air
conditioner, all I kept thing was, “where is a man when you need one?” Wouldn’t
it be great if I could just wiggle my nose like Samantha on Bewitched
(seriously dating myself there) and a hunky shirtless man in tight jeans show
up to put the air conditioner in for me? A girl can dream right. Alas, that was
not the case. After several near drops and severely sweaty palms, the fur kids
and I (until my electric bill comes) are enjoying the cold air.
Yes, the air conditioner did get
in the window and is functioning perfectly. But I had put it in because there
was no one else to do it. And while I am the total feminist and can totally
take care of myself, there are times when having a man around would be so damn convenient.
Yes, I said it. And I make no bones about it.  Sometimes, I wish I could say, “Hey babe, can
you get the pasta off of the shelf,” instead of using my handy step stool that
stays at the ready at all times because I am short. Or it would nice for
someone else to lug the cat litter out of the car. Someday!
Hopefully the air conditioner
comes out easier than it went in. Maybe I should start practicing my nose
wiggling….
Later Days!

 

B