It’s one of those touchy subjects, I know, and normally I’m not much of a ranter, but over the last few months I’ve had people making comments in regards to my love life and I just feel the need to address them.

For those who don’t know me, I tend to be attracted to white guys. It’s not that I don’t find other men attractive, or have anything against other races, it’s just the way that I’ve come to be as I’ve grown older. I’ve come to terms with it, and I don’t in any way dismiss the possibility of being with someone of my own race, or another race. But for some reason, this is a problem for some people. An aunt told me I need to stop dating white guys because I don’t have any luck with them, when to be honest, I haven’t had luck with any guy of any ethnicity. Why is it such a big deal that I like white men? Does that make me any less of a person or any less likely to find a partner? It may make things more difficult, sure, but my luck more than likely would be the same if I had a preference to men of any other race. Another friend has said to me on several occasions that maybe I need to expand my horizons to other people. But I’ve already done that. I’ve dated men of different races, I’ve just been in committed relationships with those who are white. Obviously, they didn’t work out which is why I’m single now and have been for the past four years. Which brings me to the next comment…

One person with whom I used to be close constantly told me that I needed to lower my standards, that I was too picky and that’s why I’m still single. My standards are obviously there for a reason. I’m not the most experienced of romantics, but I’ve been through enough to know what it is that I want and don’t want in a partner, especially in this stage of life where I’d like to find the man I’ll marry one day. I don’t even have high standards like he must have a six-figure income and full benefits or anything like that. But I know what I want. I want someone who is open-minded and laid back, has a good head on his shoulders, takes care of himself and has goals for the future, is kind and goofy, but knows when to be serious, and a few other things of course. I don’t need some Harvard grad or anything, I just like a specific type of guy I suppose. So, why should I lower my standards just to find someone? Then I would be settling and the relationship would in a sense be based on a rocky foundation.Things wouldn’t work out because the person wouldn’t be a true fit for me and I’d be back in the same situation I find myself in right now.

Being single blows about 92% of the time for me, simply because it’s been so long and I’m starting to be surrounded by married couples. I know, however, that my time will come (though if it’d hurry up a bit I’d be completely okay with that :P). It’s taking longer than I thought it would, but at least I know that when I do find that special guy, it’ll be right. He’ll possess the qualities that will best suit me in a life partner and things will be fantastic. So, when other people tell me these things, I just have to wonder, does saying these things make them feel better, like they’re helping me? By dismissing my taste or suggesting in a sense that I’m doing things all wrong? I know what I want, what I feel is going to be best for me in a man, and who I need to be with to compliment me and my Mika-ness. Love may not have come to me yet, but if people think me changing is going to make things easier, they’ve got it wrong. I think I’ll keep my standards, my preferences, and when someone fits that bill and is willing to make it work with me, I’ll cherish every moment I have with him, through the good, the bad, and everything in between. Because in the end it’ll all be worth it, and I’m not willing to sacrifice anything that may keep me from having that.

Anyways, rant over!

XO, M.Monroe

Convos with Big Money.

At my job, we refer to my boss as Big Money. It works for him, seeing as he’s a business owner and tends to look at the big money in items individually instead of what can be made in bulk. Anyways, not the point of the story.

So, last night, I was working with him at the store (I’m a hot record store chick [unofficially christened that by the guys i work with] for those who don’t know me). Since I’m a girl, he doesn’t like me being alone in the store to close and comes in to end the night with me. We were randomly talking and out of no where he asks me:

“So, what’s the longest you’ve ever been in a relationship?”

It took me by surprise because he likes to know what’s going on with us and whatnot, but never really asked me about my love life too much before.

Here’s the rest of our conversation:

“Um, a day shy of 5 months.”

“Oh, really? Was that like a while ago? I only ask because since you’ve been here I don’t think I’ve ever, ya know…”

“Yeah, I’ve been single 4 years as of this month.”

“Oh, I gotcha. So is it like a choice type thing or…”

“I’m picky, not gonna lie. I’ve been through enough to what I want and don’t want outta someone. Plus, I tend to prefer white guys, which makes dating uber hard. Not that I don’t like guys of all races, it’s just…”

“No, I get it. You’re a military kid right?”


“Yeah, see, that’s totally understandable. There’s a standard of military life that, ya know, gets taught to the children, you’re just going by what you know, what you grew up with. Nothing wrong with that.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. I grew up from birth to 10 in the military school system with majority white kids, got taught levels of standards through that and my parents and I just kinda ended up this way.”

“No, yeah, I totally get that, and it’s not a bad thing. You don’t have to explain, it’s the way you are as a person, that’s cool, I get that. Besides, I’m sure the creepy mother fuckers that hit on you here probably don’t help too much.”

We both share a laugh because it’s OH SO TRUE!

“Yeah, that’s definitely a factor in it.”

“Haha, yeah. But it’s cool, stay that way. You know, too many people end up in bullshit relationships for bullshit reasons; stick it out. Me and my wife, believe or not, have been together 25 years. But, you know, before her, I wasn’t dating the right type of girls. But you stick it out and you get something good in the end.”

“That’s what I’m hoping for, I’m not really trying to be an old cat lady.”

“Haha, yeah. It’ll work out, don’t think you’re doing anything wrong.”

This was the first conversation that I’ve had with someone in a while that made me feel good about my relationship preferences. For the first time, basically in my life, someone actually got it. I didn’t have to explain, and I didn’t feel like a weirdo or a snob. He made me realize that it was okay. Not only okay to have that preference, but my being single wasn’t a bad thing. It didn’t make me defective, or too picky, just cautious. It was nice, really nice, to have that conversation.

On the flip side, I also realized that I’ve been spending the last 3 ½ years lying to the creepers about having a boyfriend while never having one. Hell, my made up boyfriend was pretty awesome, especially since he got so many people off of my back, though some didn’t seem to care -.- But having a real boyfriend would be kind of nice right about now. Eh, we’ll see what happens. If anything, I’ll just have to have another chat with Big Money.

I appreciate the people who can make me smile…

The people who understand

Who listen when I’m frustrated and get that

In the end, I’m just venting and letting it all go.

I appreciate the little things that make me happy

When the day just isn’t going my way.

Like TV characters, and silly cartoons,

And vodka.

Then again,

I detest the way I feel at times,

How manic I can become

Over the little things that shouldn’t irritate me, but do

Because of who I am and who you are

And who we’re not together

Because together, me and you

Sharing one mind frame, one entity of space and time

Even in the briefest of moments

Is the best and worst thing all at once.

I’m reminded in that space,

That time that almost isn’t there

That you aren’t mine, and may never be mine.

The smile fades, the tears flow, the heart races.

Drops of despair roll down my cheeks for now

Until something happens and I’m smiling again.

Not because I’m over it,

Oh no darling, I’m not over it

But reflecting on it for more than a moment

Has become unacceptable

Because even though you aren’t mine, I am yours

And until the day comes where that changes

That little flicker of hope keeps me going

Silently, briefly


- M. Monroe