Perspective

The fear of Friday the 13th is called paraskavedekatriaphobia. The fear of Valentine's Day? nosexforweeksphobia.

Today. Friday 13 February. How do you see it?

a) As the day before Valentine's Day

b) As Black Friday - a day of superstition, fear and cheesey horror films all day on cable

Well, friends, I kinda look at it both ways today. I have always been a little bit wary of Friday the 13th cause the old people would always tell you bad things happen to you on Black Friday. I have thus never done anything out of the ordinary on Friday the 13th. So, you would not see Tamale deciding to make her first skydive on Friday the 13th, or have a one-night stand on Friday the 13th, for fear of going splat in some meadow somewhere in the first instance, or getting myself into a gang-bang in the second. I would go to work, come home. In this case, I am home all day today. It's sunny today but not in the mood to go out. Going out seems overrated lately. Sleeping in late is such a luxury for me, y'all just don't understand. Not having to set an alarm to jar me awake at 3 in the morning is such a breath of fresh air.

But I digress...

As for looking at today as the day before Valentine's, another thing comes to mind. Do I really want to go to the mall and see all the pink and red shit all over the shops? Hear all the sappy love shit on the radio - brainwashing the meagre minds of the world? And from my point of view, Valentine's is just like Friday the 13th cause it is all about fear. It is FEAR, not love that drives this holiday. Oh yeah...picture it.

Some poor dude, after a long day at work, taking shit from his boss, maybe just wants to go home, crack open a Carib beer or whatever, maybe pour some Angostura 1919 in a glass, neat - and as he gets to the halfway mark, he hears the radio announcer dedicating some shit song to some girl - some 80's stinker sung by some dude with a mullet - and it dawns on him, SHIT...I cyah go home without a gift. He pictures the girlfriend home, waiting in her little pink nightie shit, waiting for the little box with some type of jewellry, waiting to reward him for his efforts, with some once-a-quarter punani, and upon seeing him with nothing, turns from cotton candy princess to ice queen - for weeks!

Yep. Fear. It's fear all round. Fear of physical harm done to the man's person, cause let's face it ladies, men not really expecting or wanting anything for Valentine's, except maybe a little peace. And the deeper fear? Fear that maybe he does not love you - and by him braving the mall, filled to the nines with dumb assholes like himself, he is somehow manifesting this love for you, that you need to see manifested in some pink and red gift bag, or some small black box.

I am a woman but I conclude that Valentine's Day is some cult-based event, perpetuated by insecure women everywhere to convince them that these men are all about them. But take it from me, a gift on Feb 14 will not prove that he loves you. It just proves that he is 1) really stupid or 2) really good at bullshitting you. Any ass with a credit card can shop. It's not a high level skill.

Yes. I declared I wanted a Valentine, but I never said I wanted the pink and red foolishness instilled by fear. I want someone close to me to just emotionally support me during an amazingly weird time in my life and put a smile on my face cause the power of friendship is real to me. I am not going to hold a gun to anyone's head to do that. If I don't get it, I am my own best friend and I have a credit card as well, and trust me - I know how to use it.

I actually find the pink and reds, and the dazed love-sick zombies, scarier than the black cats and Exorcist movies. Petrifying!

About the recession - the MAN recession

I had a meeting this morning and afterwards, as we sat on the terrace eating hors d'oeuvres, we started chatting. Us girls that is. And Karla tells me her resolution for 2009 is to quite simply - GET A MAN!

...to which 2 other girls chimed in - YEAH GIRL. mmmmhmmm.

So okay, I need reminding sometimes that I am not actually the last spinster on earth, as much as I may want to believe that I am. I mean, I am not telling random women that my year's mission is to get a man, while eating kebabs. However, I am part of an apparently sizeable group of women - independent, attractive, successful women - who cannot get some regular ass and lovin' and affection.

So what do we do about this?

These days, nothing. I am not so obsessively caught up in this "find a man" adventure. Finding a job to pay the bills and regaining some motivation to lose weight and not eat everything in sight are real priorities for me right now. I mean, we can go on and on about the job bit, but until I actually get a job, it is pretty banal stuff - me talking about my frustrations and anxiety. And in any event, let's remember - Tamale is leaving the job to Jesus!

The eating bit seems to be a bit of a crisis though and I am not sure what prompted it. I have been eating A LOT and it is a tad bit worrying. Maybe I am thinking, "wide hips are the least of my problems when I am penniless and jobless" or maybe I am thinking "well, with the recession when I cannot afford to buy food, it will drop right off so I might as well eat while I can now". Whatever it is, my eating is bordering on fucking ridiculous. I'm hungry now actually and want chips. No chips. The recession has already started affecting my snack haul.

So as we wind our way back to the point at hand, the man recession. Yep. I was saying I am too preoccupied with other things to let this man thing become a Top 5 issue. I got some sex the other day - was not GREAT sex - but it sort of quelled a hunger. Sort of. So I am okay. I also decided that this year, I am going to learn to swim. Yes. I live on an island and cannot swim. But I have plans to apply for that job to laze around on an island all day and blog about it and I need to learn to swim. lol. Plus, it's good exercise though I am a tad bit concerned about the ravaging effects of chlorine on my already ravaged hair. Not to mention my fat ass in a swimsuit in a full pool of young teenagers with pancake flat abs. I also need to save, learn to Latin dance a la Dancing with the Stars and brush up on my French.

So again, you clearly can see the thoughts that proliferate my mind these days - the reason I am not obsessed over the man crisis that everyone else seems to be hot and scattered about.

But sometimes I think, it would be nice to get one of my own.

I challenge you to help my love life

I sent a friend an email yesterday, asking him about his recent holiday in Jamaica and jokingly asked whether he had hooked up with any of the ladies there. His response, this morning - "yep...I did."

I mean, is this some kinda personal crisis that everyone and their mama can meet someone and I cannot? Maybe I am not putting myself in the right places to meet the right people - like maybe Hawaii was a poor man-picker-upper choice of vacation/birthday spot cause there was nothing worth my time - or maybe I am still just too selective. People make selective seem like such a bad thing. Okay, tell me...let's look at my current man basket and you tell me if I am being selective.

Tamale's Man Basket - I am looking at the main players, and not the passersby. I have indicated how we met and a bit about the man.

Bomb - Met through work. 40-something, not young nor hard bodied, handsome though, separated from the missus, too busy for the average Tamale, too rakish and flirtatious for the average Tamale. Very Rhett Butler-esque. Has a bit of a bad boy quality to him - though he is more like a bad child who likes mischief. Non-committal, especially dealing with newfound freedom from a bad marriage. With a wife in the past and kids, the man has some baggage.

Adonis - Met on vacation. 30-something. BO-DEE for days. He has some awesome awesome specs - great ass, great abs, great pecs, great arms, great legs, great piggy. He is a specimen of physical perfection. Handsome too. Very smitten and adores the Tamale very very much. Very kind and loving. Great sex. Typical male issues like cannot properly communicate his emotions. Lives miles and miles away in London. Single but has 3 kids. 3 Kids = a farm. Farm = baggage. lol.

The newcomers - former colleagues we will call Burt (lol) and buddy we will call Ace.

Burt - Met through work. 40-something. No hard body unless you mean the hard pot belly. Great happy hour buddy. Great limer. No attraction to him though - not in that physical sense. Not the sexy kinda ole man I like. Some men are old but sexy, like bomb, even with a full head of greying hair, even if the body eh all there, but there is an aura. Burt has an aura I am sure, but his aura does not attract me. Kid somewhere out there in the world. Kid out there = baby mama somewhere.

Ace - Met online. Yes...you read it right. Online. lol. 30-something. Again, the body is just not there. Hairy beyond belief, except where it matters most. On his head. I must admit, I am a McDreamy kinda hair girl. I love a man with some hair. When you're doing naughty things, you wanna run your fingers through some hair. Or just play with some hair while watching tv. You don't want to apply sun tan lotion to the spot where there used to be hair. lol. Very laid back, very sweet, kind, thoughtful, affectionate. Husband material I think. No kids. Never been married so no family type baggage. The sex - well...there's a deal breaker right there. This is something that may need to be explored again in the future - to make sure. But a lifetime of bad sex is not something I am willing to accept to beat loneliness.

So friends, what do you think? Overly picky? Only Burt actually lives here but I am willing to relocate for my man, but are any of these men worth it? So far...not too sure.