Program Change 

While contemplating my next move with Jon B, I’m realizing that aside from him being cute and seemingly good on paper, we really don’t have that much in common or at least nothing else that I can tell because he doesn’t talk about much.  

Sure, we both enjoy eating and indulging in cocktails, but other than that I only know that he’s hustling to expand his business, takes a lot of naps and feels slighted that his daughter isn’t too interested in his Skyping calls. That’s it – just the surface and superficial stuff.

So as I’m telling a friend about his latest radio silent act like, she silence me the most perfect suggestion:

“You need to take him off the boyfriend program and put him on the fuck boy program.  Treat him like he’s here to pass the time.”

This dude will consume several days in a row if I allowed him to and as much as I’m enjoying his company, everything seems to be on his terms and timeline which isn’t cool and another friend says I need to stop making myself so available.  

But isn’t that kind of like playing games?  If you are available and have nothing else to do, you should say no every once in a while so the other person thinks you’ve got other things going on?

Here’s what I don’t like: he responds to text messages and phone calls when he’s good and damn ready and if I’m trying to plan something in advance, he doesn’t get back until the last minute with a counteroffer. 

I don’t like being ignored because actions like this remind me of one or two hangovers from my past.  Seeing as how the average person is staring at their phone countless hours a day, it’s inconceivable that ten seconds can’t be taken to tap out a reply.  

I know this for a fact because I just did the same thing to another guy.  

He texted me at 10:29am and I saw my phone light up within a few minutes and could have replied with a simple “Hey, good
morning…Already working but we’ll chat later”, but I didn’t want to.  He’s nice and but I’m not feeling him at and figured responding too quickly would give him false hopes, so I would just respond later.  I didn’t respond until this afternoon.

See how this shit works?

Dealing with another one of those super busy and forgetful guys isn’t an appealing option, and neither is the possibility that he’s curving me so I asked him again if he wanted to become a fuck buddy and he’s saying no.  

His actions are telling me otherwise so I’ll give him a week or so, if that.

Until there’s a cure…

Carmen Jones




Down with the Swirl- Part 2

So it’s been a few weeks of this swirling dating adventure with Jon B and I have a few observations to report.

No, not THE actual  R&B crooner hottie himself but as much as the new guy hates being told, that’s exactly who he favors.


The Look a Like and I met on a Wednesday, went out that Friday, Saturday AND again that Sunday.  Repeat the following week and again.  What does this mean? Hell, I don’t know. We’re either mildly interested in each other OR we’re just looking for time fillers.

I haven’t been able to get a solid reading on the Look a Like, but I’m guessing he may be nothing more than another fuck boy.  He doesn’t ask any questions about my dating habits, so I’m not going there either.

Okay, now my observations in no particular order, and absence of any real logic:

1.  I’m happy to be stepping outside of my norm and comfort zone.

2.  Guys with an eclectic and artsy flair are so damn hot, especially if they are musicians.

3.  I’m elated and surprised to have met a non-black man who can make my panties moist just by kissing me on my neck.

4.  Most men are the same, regardless of race.

5.  Music is everything and sharing a common interest and passion is amazing.

6.  Most men are the same, regardless of race and do the same stupid shit.

7.  I’ve felt awkward on more than one  occasion when receiving the “look” from black men and women while out with my new friend.

8.  He is very comfortable dating black women, I’m the one feeling like a traitor.

9.  All men have a certain amount of communication blockage, regardless of race.

10.  Not every non-black man has a pink tip.

11.  I still feel strongly about pets in or near beds.

12. A man with his life together is everything!!!!!!!!

This story is still developing and can have a different update next week, or you’ll see me posting this:


Until there’s a cure…

Carmen Jones

Down with the Swirl

Everything about this latest situation is different. 

I woke up this morning to both dogs at the foot of the bed; Thelma on his side and Louise on my side.  Every now and then, feeling each one turning around head as if to make sure we’re in our spot.

After snapping the photo of our guardians, I turned over to study the intricate design of his tatted back.  I love the way his olive skin tone allows each detail to pop.

Oh yes, I said olive.

I said this was different; it’s my first time swirling while dating and I like it.

We all know I’ve had plenty of success stories and this blog tells you how those all ended.

No expectations here, but can I at least hope for no more disappointments?

Until there’s a cure…

Carmen Jones

Black Like Me


We are not all alike.

Just as a man will tell a woman that he’s not like all the rest, I find myself having to show and prove to someone that isn’t black that I’m not like all the rest.

We are not all ghetto, loud mouthed, neck rolling mammies who grew up fatherless in the hood, with Ebonics being used regularly.  So again, we are not the same and are definitely cut from a different cloth but sadly, when it comes to dating and even the most innocent of interactions with men from different ethnic groups.

For anyone wearing their rose colored glasses believing race really doesn’t matter when it comes to dating I’m here to tell you that in most cases, it probably does and after this Saturday’s random encounter, I was reminded that the act of stereotyping is still pretty common.

We often hear that we’re too sensitive or may be taking things “too seriously”, but after sitting through a session with someone who was fascinated at even the smallest of things relating to blacks was entertaining at times but soon after, became increasingly annoying as the number of negative associations were thrown my way.

The afternoon scene included two girlfriends enjoying lunch and tossing back a couple of drinks on the west side of LA and after a little shit talking with some guys about sports, one of them asks if he could join our table.  We figured there was no harm here and welcomed his company, noticing this white man in his 50’s was either tipsy or just a little off.

As soon as he sits down he seems curiously interested by our interaction before chiming in and asking if we had any children followed by our age, which is when things started to get interesting. I thought he was going to keel over right there at the table when my friend said she was 44 and I responded that I was 40 so then he starts stumbling over his words before saying:

“Wow, you ladies look great because I never would have guessed you were older than about thirty five and damn- I don’t know how to say this without sounding silly and there’s no way of being politically correct here so…”  I told him to stop being so dramatic and just spit it out and he says “I have a black girlfriend and she’s aging well just like you.  I don’t understand how black people can look so young, what’s the secret?”

Does the fact that he’s with a black woman grant him a temporary ghetto pass to ask this kind of ridiculous question or continue using the phrase “black people”?  We just laughed at his awkward compliment and I responded that it was simply because we had more melanin and left it at that.

This man was so proud of the fact that he had a sista and probably mentions this quite often, as if she’s some type of prized collector’s item.  I bet he keeps count of how many black friends he has as well.  We tend to hear comments about looking so much younger than our years all of the time, so a pass was given but this dude’s behavior was only going to get worse.

“So what about the fathers of your children – are they around?”  I have to admit this question threw both me and my friend for a loop because we looked at each other before answering.  When she started her reply with “my ex-husband is…” once again, he seemed shocked and replied “Oh, you’ve been married before” and then he’s stammering again about not wanting to say something that comes out the wrong way.

Suddenly, he’s this conscious concerned citizen asking why more black men weren’t present in the lives of their children and while I certainly won’t deny the statistics, I was struggling to understand when this went from a casual lunch with two ladies and a random gentleman had turned into some sort of social enlightenment.

A second pass is given and while his comments could be brushed off as pure curiosity, he was beginning to work our nerves and soon after we started phasing him out of the conversation.

Soon after, we’re talking and laughing about a story I was telling when suddenly our guy sits straight up and says “Wow, did you really just used that kind of word – did you say morphed?” I’m a little confused at first wondering if I had somehow misused the word but he was just staring at me saying how amazing of a word I had used.

Now he’s starting to annoy the shit out of me because he is really sitting across the table staring at me as if I had magically turned into a princess by using words that were beyond a third grade level.

By the time he finally got around to asking if I was interested in white men my patience was pretty damn thin and since he was so entertained at hearing our responses to everything else, why not go for that added shock value.  I told him that aside from an encounter at a swinger’s event, I couldn’t really offer an opinion about white men other than his ability to relate was really important.

Next thing I know, he stood up and is walking towards me saying he wanted to find out and grabbed my face as if he was ready to plant a kiss!!!!

Okay, we’re done here – game over.

The mood at our table suddenly became quite icy and in a matter of minutes had settled the bill and stood up to leave before commenting his “presence was no longer needed” and thank goodness, because my patience with him was nonexistent at this point.

Here’s the moral to this story – this type of interaction is exactly what I’m afraid of when I think about possibility of dating white men or other ethnic groups.

Who wants to be in the position of having to explain things that most wouldn’t dare ask about to our faces or worse, finding myself having to prove that we all may not fit the stereotypes engrained in their minds.

Most of the time the same people saying we need to stop making it about race are doing just that – making it about race and even though what happened with this dude could simply be brushed off as a curious fella, we know it was more than that.

I’ve heard some of the dumbest things from men on these dating sites such as “I’m normally not attracted to black girls but…” or “You are a gorgeous black woman – are you mixed or something” and my personal favorite “I just love your skin”.  So it makes me wonder if the reason they’re contacting me is legit or solely to fulfill some kind of fantasy.

I promise if others stop making it about race, we’ll stop making it about race.

Until there’s a cure…

Carmen Jones

He Didn’t Wear Heels


Last week’s date marked the first time I’ve gone out with a non-black man and while one “quick” meet up will never allow me to claim an interracial dating experience, at least I was open coerced enough to have tried it.

During that excruciating hour and eleven minutes with the hangover I’ll call Guido, a few things became perfectly clear to me:  (1) nearly every man lies about at least one thing on his dating profile, (2) broken English and improper verb tense isn’t something I’ll ever be able to stomach, and (3) being told how beautiful I am repeatedly in one sitting is a little creepy.

That being said, to say that I was turned off by Guido is an understatement and while he was planning on making the night last even longer by moving from drinks to dinner, I politely declined saying I wasn’t hungry even though my stomach was growling like it hadn’t been fed in weeks.  The second and third realizations can certainly be annoying, but it’s that first one that kills me about men just like Guido who lie, lie, lie when it comes to their profiles and according to scientific research, 81% of the people out there are lying about something. 

Height, age and weight tend to be areas where the deception is the highest.


While Guido still looked a little bit like the profile photos posted he was just a shorter, bigger and more ethnic version of himself in real life.  Obviously I’m not very good at hiding my reaction to this actual version because he asked me why I seemed to flinch when he walked into the restaurant where we met. 

It wasn’t really a flinch but more like me silently asking who the fuck is this when seeing he was about 5’7 (profile said 5’11), chubby with stubby fingers wearing a jacket his body was screaming to get out of (profile said “athletic”) and while it didn’t matter either way, appeared to look more Latino (profile said mixed race). 

Of course if he’s going to ask what I thought about his appearance, I’m going to explain how different he looks and do you know this fat bastard even had the nerve to joke about the height discrepancy by saying “I’m not wearing my heels today” before quickly changing the subject. 

After he began the lengthy sales presentation about himself, I soon learned a few other things he lied about in his profile including his profession and ethnicity. 

Guido isn’t really in executive management but is a financial analyst who probably thinks he’s the big cheese because of the travel perks he received and pimps out to the ladies.  Also, when asking if his family still lived in Puerto Rico since he’s always traveling there (must have forgot he told me that’s where he’s from) I was confused when he shook his head like I said something offensive, before replying that he was from Chile.   This little tidbit explained realization number two.

Once again, there’s another fraud in my presence who ironically,  complained about having met WOMEN who weren’t what they depicted in their profiles.   I guess he decided to pay it forward thinking there was nothing wrong with little white lies.

Dating in general is already pretentious and risky enough without having to worry about the “little things” people aren’t truthful about either directly or indirectly.  Here’s the thing about lying when it comes to your appearance – unless you’re able to make some miraculous physical transformation before we meet all you’re doing is setting yourself up for failure, while eliminating yourself from ever having a chance at a second date.

Someone needs to tell these ass clowns to just be up front so they can stop wasting precious time, energy and gas.

Until there’s a cure…

Carmen Jones

P.S. If you’re reading this post via email and wonder why you’re only seeing the first couple of sentences, have no fear – simply click on the post title link and off you go to the web site!

Little White Lies


If only he hadn’t invited me upstairs to his place after dinner, things might have gone differently.  I may not have figured it out so soon.  Let’s roll back the tape to that date two weeks ago…

I’m unapologetically shallow when it comes to physical attractiveness, it’s a turn on.  We know this, so I no longer pretend that looks don’t matter.  A man with a high level of intelligence and great communication skills is equally sexy and if his integrity and goals are in alignment? A definite panty dropper. 

It’s just so damn hard finding that perfect balance, so I try to work with some of the ones who seem good on paper.  As long as the man’s photo doesn’t make me cringe, I’m really making an effort to give him a shot. Do you notice how I just down played the fact that this is really settling?  Hence, the reason I agreed to talk to and then plan a dinner date with Mr. Armstrong.

The type of guy I’m attracted to tends to have a little more color to his tone though it’s ALWAYS the lighter completed reaching out to me, such as Hope.  Mr. Armstrong was far to the left of the color spectrum and while he wasn’t exactly looking like Powder he sure as hell would have a nasty sunburn in the Vegas sun after ten minutes.  


His saving grace? He had real substance in his profile, a well groomed goatee always (always) helps and his velvet voice spewed words like musical notes.  I think we call it the gift of gab, so what the hell- I convinced myself that a dinner date in the beautiful marina where he grew up was worth a shot.

First impressions can be both a gift and a curse.  I’m the type of person who is very expressive so my thoughts and feelings are pretty transparent with my eyebrows and mouth saying it all and when meeting up for the first time, there’s a fear any attempts to appear to be pleased no matter what, a person may sense that I’m really thinking “This meet up with be very brief”.  Suffice to say if you arrive at the meeting spot and ignore the person who appears to be waiting near the entrance because you’re looking for the man who looks much better, that’s probably not a good sign.  Hearing this same person say “How’s it going Carmen” confirmed that he was my guy.

Damn, this man was so pale in color he looked like a pastry dish and his description about being athletic and toned?   Lies, lies, lies.  I’ve been down this road before and had I not just driven about thirty miles to meet him i would have turned on my heel and exited stage left.  People really need to cut it with the bullshit embellishments,  like really.  Thankfully, Mr. Armstrong he was quite pleasant to dine with and It turns out that he’s quite successful in the role of a city attorney.  Decent date but his category had been quIckly defined-  acquaintance or possible future friend only. 

Dinner is over and we’re enjoying each other’s company,  so I was open to shooting a little pool afterwards.   But once we walked outside and he says “Follow me, my place is just down the street”, I gave him that look. I think one of the biggest turnoffs for me is a man inviting you to his place too soon. It just doesn’t look good either way because if you are giving off vibes that you’re feeling him, he’s likely going to expect some ass. Just the same, if you are not giving off any such vibes and you’re going to his place, he’s going to expect some ass.  I guess he picked up on my body language and clarified that he had a recreation room at his condo to which I clarified that I had my .45 to accompany me. 

A short time later, we arrive at his complex and he tells me we have to make a quick stop to his unit so he can grab some ice and drinks so I’m on guard.  He invites me in to have a seat in the living room area while he gets what he needs.  I politely declined, opting for the bar stools in the kitchen right near the door.  As I’m waiting for what should have been a two minute transaction, he’s chatting about having recently remodeled his place which leads me to believe this dude just wanted to show off what he had and how he was living. 

His place was nice indeed and I could tell that he (or the woman who helped him decorate) had impeccable taste but it wasn’t the plush sofa or fancy fixtures that caught my attention; it was the photographs he had adorning his bar area.  Sometimes, I really hate that I focus so much on details because things the average person would glaze over are caught by my eagle eyes.  Since I enjoy hearing the stories that come with pictures, coming across the largest with Mr. Armstrong and a nice looking, elderly white couple piqued my interest.  It only took a few minutes for me to come up with two possible stories behind that photograph, and one of those options didn’t settle too well with my stomach so I held my tongue.

Moments later, I’ve got two stripes to his five solid in this first game of pool and it was something that he said that made me finally ask the questions:

Me:  “That’s a nice photo of you from your graduation.  Who are the people because you all look exactly alike even though they’re both white.”

Him:  “Oh yeah, of course we look alike because those are my parents and I AM white.”

Me:  “Parents?  Your profile said mixed race.”

This dude just kept his angling intact and prepared to shoot again as if none of this was outside of a regular conversation which was amazing to me.  So now that it’s obvious that he lied, I started asking about a couple of the same things he initially told me such as where he grew up which quickly changed from the West Side to “near Snoop Dog in Long Beach”.  

The morale of this story is this – I have often said that I wanted to try dating outside my race and yes, I succeeded in doing just that.  He was an interesting guy indeed and he was white but the difference here is that he is a white man who acts, talks, tries the walk like a black man.  He’s what we call an Oreo and reminded me of a Paul Wall but without the gold grill and honestly,  not as cute.


If that’s what I’m trying to get away from, why in the hell would I want someone who has to lie and perpetrate about being something and something that he isn’t?  I just can’t with the lying even if he thought it was nothing but a little “white” lie.

Until there’s a cure…

Carmen Jones



The Other White Meat


Remember a few posts back when I was getting all jungle fever with it?  I mentioned that I was finally ready to start paying attention to men of a different persuasion and get my swirl on.

For my slow readers, I’m a black woman who has dated nothing but black men (unless mixed races counts for anything).  I have resisted the trend of interracial dating for a few reasons, but figure it’s time to start tapping into a wider pool of available men.

I’ll share my theories on the types of men that are attracted to different types of black women later, but for now I must say- since changing my preferences to “open” in terms of interracial dating,  the  responses have been interesting.

It’s been almost a month since getting back online and maybe going to the melting pot of dating sites (the one where every one seems to be on it! ), that explains the TYPES of messages I’ve been receiving from all types.

There are the geriatric white men, middle-aged Shahs of Sunset, twenty-something Latino stud muffins, Vanilla Ice knock offs and thirty plus Asians with flavor.  The rainbow coalition of men is all over the place which definitely makes for some interesting chats, BUT it’s the Adam Levine looking hottie with all the right qualities that has left a bad taste in my mouth.  It seems like (and this is just my observation) the white men on this site between the ages of about 30-50 are sexually charged perverts.

It isn’t just me, because my friend Kimora is experiencing the same thing based on her brief interaction with a man whose screen name was A Hard Nine, but it’s the context of the messages to me that seem a little uh…specific.

I’ve never really wanted to embark on the interracial journey out of curiosity or to satisfy some secret fetish for wondering if non-black men could really hold it down or all pink or tan tips.  Okay, I’m exaggerating with these examples but….  instead,  I have a genuine interest in trying something new, period.

These douchebags referenced above?   Without a doubt are going for the fantasy/fetish/sexual approach and here’s why I say this:

“Your lips are so full and beautiful. ..”
“I love your skin, it would look good on..”
“Your mouth looks inviting…”
“Would love a bj from you, you’re pretty.”

Just examples of the messages from this week alone, but there have been some that were just out of pocket.   Most are ignored,  some I reply with “Thank you, good luck” and others?  Well…. it really depends on the mood and since I’ve been under the weather, this handsome asshole was in for quite a surprise.

The funny part?  I think my reply turned him on because he messages FIVE times afterwards until I eventually blocked him:


Until there’s a cure for the hangovers and douche bags…

Carmen Jones