Can marrying the wrong person ruin your life? The Masked Crusader, the Super Sistah discusses her new blog post, Death by Ex. While reflecting on the death of Whitney Houston she asks her readers whether loving the wrong man can be a woman’s downfall? Post a response here. R.I.P Whitney, we’ll miss you.

the Super Sistah on Whitney Houston

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Whitney we'll miss you.

Can the wrong man ruin your life? Yeah, he can! Recently Pop Diva Whitney Houston went home to meet her Lord. The lyrics, “I get so emotional, baby, every time I think of you” was set on replay when I heard.  I don’t pretend to know what goes on in the personal lives of celebrities, but as far as downward spirals go, I think Whitney’s began shortly after her husband put his diamond on her left. 

Happy Valentine's Day

Back in the day if a man loved a woman he gave her father a horse, a cow and two mules. In them days, the price of your “PRECIOUS” to quote Gollum, cost a damn sight more than some chocolates and a Hallmark card.  Men understood that for the benefit of a lady’s time he had to put in some work. He earned her affection through the persistent pursuit of her heart. Fast forward a century and now some men have forgotten what love is about. On Valentine’s, which is the most romantic day of the year, stats show that most couple’s end up succumbing to what I call a Total Eclipse of the Heart. To translate Bonnie Tyler’s song into layman terms, it means that love fades to black. When women should be shaking the sheets on the 14^th, instead, most are showing their men the curb. I don’t have a Ph.D. in Sexual Healing but there is a reason for the fallout.

“As a man thinketh in his heart, so is he?” For those who haven’t read their Bible since the dark ages, no it wasn’t Yoda who said that, it was the Lord. I  don’t personally possess a Masters in Divinity but if this quote is correct then I should already be rich, thin, vastly intelligent and immune to insult and insecurity? Let me do a quick mental rundown of my bank account, my profile and my mindset.  Nope, if this was a test I would get an F for fail. Now I personally believe that both the Force and the Lord is with me. I wonder why then my thoughts haven’t manifested into a house on the hills and a Bentley?  Could it be that like most human beings my positive thoughts are combined with ones filled with doubt and negativity?

Our lives are often a direct reflection of what we think about regularly. If we dominate our thoughts with feelings of fear and anxiety then how can thoughts of abundance abound?  They cannot.  Light is a powerful force but it can’t fight the darkness without our help. If we want all the things promised to us then we must ask ourselves these questions:

• What are our first thoughts of the day? (Reflections on the past?  A replay of failed relationships? A catalog and mental list of mistakes made?)
• What do we say to ourselves when we look in the mirror? (I’m getting old or fat. I’m unattractive and out of shape? I’m not as pretty or smart as I used to be.)
• What do we say to ourselves when someone criticizes us? (They’re probably right. Maybe they know something I don’t know. Is it me?)
• What are the thoughts that run through our minds most often? (I’m not good enough. I’m not lovable. I’ll never make it or get to where I need to be.)

Positive thoughts need nourishment.  Like hot house flowers our image of ourselves and our feelings of personal power cannot flourish without attention, concentrated effort and care.  Before we can convince others that we are exceptional we have to first convince ourselves.  We have to get drunk on Jedi Juice which is a concoction made up of mental strength, visualization and discipline.  If we are what we think we are then we must think big.  The downtrodden and the defeated drink disappointment and fail while the ambitious drink Jedi Juice and win!

What is your drink of choice? Are you getting drunk off of your accomplishments or are you inebriated with your inability to succeed?

I’m attempting to get my self-help/dating book published.  It’s curious then that when I sprinted out of work on Friday I wasn’t running to catch a hot man for a hot date but to catch the library. My dating life in New York City might seem obscene to some and downright dismal to others. How much you commiserate depends on whether you go home to a man in your bed or to a vibrator with 4 batteries. Despite the glamour of the dating scene portrayed on reruns of Sex in the City, I’m no Carrie.  For most single girls in the city, there is no line of eligible bachelors waiting to wine and dine us and then pick up the check.  If we want to date regularly we can, but we’ve seen enough news reports where they find the desperate girl’s body in the trash to know that its best to choose quality over creepy.

When I explained my dating challenges to a friend he accused me of being picky. This is the label women usually get if they refuse to date the bucktooth guy from IT, the stalker neighbor from across the hall or their second cousin twice removed (shit, date him girl; it’s not like he’s close family).  The label is unfair but there is a good portion of the population that thinks that women should date anyone who asks.  For this reason, when I recently stopped dating a perfectly eligible man some of my single friends thought I might be crazy.  What you say now?  He has a job, all his teeth and he has a history of eating coochie? You don’t want him? Where he at? I’ll give him something dark and fiery. I’m assuming they meant loving and not a STD.  But I digress.  The dude and I didn’t get to the loving stage because there was no evidence that he felt passionate about me.  I’m not saying he should have tattooed my name across his pubic bone or sent me I love you cards signed with his tears, but similar to the tune En Vogue once sang, I wanted him to Give Me Something that I Could Feel.  Was that too much to ask? Raise your hand if you vote no. You can’t see me, but I’m raising both hands.  I liked homeboy and had amor loco for him (that means mad love) but unfortunately for us it was still a wrap.  Maybe I’ve read too many romance novels but I have no intention of being anyone’s 2^nd best.  What’s worse than being alone? Being a punnani placeholder for another chick.  Am I right or am I right? Holla if you hear me.

Are you a punnani placeholder? Should we date, mate and procreate with men who consider us 2^nd best?

don’t be #2

In the past as the 1st of January loomed I would get frantic. I’d dissect my year’s accomplishments one-by-one. What had I accomplished? What goal had I reached? What problem had I solved? Every impossible goal one could devise I had it on my to-do list. To me, the end of the year was like a final exam where all the questions of the universe had to be solved single-handedly. Needless to say I was ambitious. For many years I assessed my accomplishments for the twelve months based on the strictest criteria. If in the year I failed to reach a goal I set for myself then I considered that entire year a bust. Even before the last fireworks went off on the new month I’d have myself on the success hamster wheel with a new set of priorities, plans and pursuits.

With Christmas on its way and thoughts of delicious holiday meals dancing around in my head, the state of my appetite has been on my mind. The Super has always had a healthy appetite. I like to eat.  In the event of a famine I’m the first to go.  As a child the pudgy little belly that hung over my Underoos was evidence of my love of a good meal.  Despite the fact that I’ve never gone without sustenance a day in my life, I’ve always been hungry.  I’ve always wanted more.  As I got older this need for extra expanded past food and into other areas of life. The desire for more kept me in constant pursuit of things just out of reach. If I set a goal for myself the minute I reached it I was on to the next. Forget the celebration and the pat on the back for a job well done, I was already wondering what new hill I could climb, what new dragon I could slay and what new adventure I could wrestle to the ground and destroy. There was no satisfaction. The greedy rarely revel in the moment. Ambition is good and drive is important if you want things out of life, but when you can no longer enjoy your victories then you have to reassess.

Emptiness is not a natural state of being.  The people who constantly feel that something is missing habitually try to fill the space with food, sex, work or whatever gives them temporary relief from the vast hole which is their lives. But as the holidays roll around, The Super advises her readers not to fill themselves up with empty victories and meaningless pursuits but with the things that matter. For the over-achievers, you can always make the next dollar; touchdowns are always being scored, but if tomorrow never comes make sure that love, joy and happiness is the motivating factors in life.  A blind man once asked God, “Is there anything worse than losing your eye sight?” God responded, “Yes, losing your vision.” Keep focused. Gorge and overindulge on bliss. Pursue emotional, physical and spiritual harmony.  Strive to fill your life with meaning. To women and women of color and confidence, the Super Sistah wishes her readers a Happy Holiday and Merry Christmas.

Are you always hungry and constantly in pursuit of things beyond your reach? What emotional food do you plan to fill yourself up with this year?

“Why you ain’t married? Whadup girl, how come you don’t have any furniture on your finger? You must be mean that’s why you ain’t rocking some dude’s solitaire! You’re pretty so what’s wrong withcha?” You’d think that the side eye, pursed lips and a get the hell out of my face with that bullsh%t profile would discourage strangers from attempting to start a conversation with a diss. No, not really. Often I’m left with the dilemma of figuring out how to tell a knucklehead with no game that his pickup line sucks? I must ponder on the right way to discourage propositions from admirers approaching forty who still wear low-hung jeans, who converse using questionable vocabulary, who have sketchy work histories and who admit to having at least one pending paternity suit on the books. It’s not to say that my more illustrious suitors don’t have these same inquiries dancing through their brains, but the first thing a college education teaches you is to keep stupid questions to yourself.

The older a women gets the more she gets harassed about her single status. It’s not the same for men. No one ever asks George Clooney why he won’t stop rotating ladies. Does he have a limp dick or prick? Is he stingy or stern with homosexual tendencies? Nah, he’s labeled a player and a pimp—a bachelor to the core. People don’t ask determinedly single men why they can’t catch and keep eligible tail. In contrast, the assumption for women is that we must be cranky, bitchy or crazy if we’re not hitched. The explanation is never that we’re waiting for Mr. Right to appear so that we don’t settle for less. It’s never understood that any woman can get a proposal. Somewhere on the planet someone will marry you if you perform yoga moves in the bedroom, give up half your check, support your man’s twelve kids and turn a blind eye when he creeps. Didn’t Whitney marry Bobby? Quantity abounds but quality requires patience and belief in one’s worth. One shouldn’t expect perfection but a little discernment never hurt.

The Super is single but doesn’t consider herself a spinster firmly on the shelf. I have prospects. Like George Clooney I’m a bachelor(ette)taking my time to taste, sample and select my mate. If I’m desperate for furniture on my ring finger, I can go shopping at Ikea. Decorating an apartment is easy. Decorating someone’s arm, life and heart is going to require more than a desire to wear a white dress.

Being single doesn’t always mean a woman is insufferable. Sometimes all it means is that the right man has yet to capture her heart. In the meantime don’t settle: select. Don’t make the mistake of marrying just any man to ease the loneliness.

Out of desperation have you ever considered becoming The Wrong Mrs. Right?

Recently someone close to my heart went home to meet his Beloved.  He was here today and then gone like a raging flame suffocated by a lack of oxygen. When precious things are taken from us we wonder about the purpose of life and whether God has a plan. We ask ourselves, is there a point to all of this and what does it all mean? We ask knowing that we’ll never know for sure.  If we believe in a higher power we question whether the almighty is a naughty child with a doll with our likeness in one hand and a long piercing needle in his other fist.  Are our lives a prank? Why are we here? Even as we wrestle with our doubts, most of us cling to the belief that our lives have significance.  Instead of a mean spirited child we conjure images of God as a chess master devising plans and strategies too complex for mere mortals to understand? We use this image to give us comfort as we do our best to put our doubts and fears to rest.

No matter our religious philosophies, the core belief in all of us is that we are here for a reason.  Some of us forget our purpose as weeks and years pass by.  We slip into a coma while still standing on our two feet.  We forget what we were born to do.  Like the movie Inception, we must remind ourselves who we are so that we can awaken from a self-imposed sleep.  Death will come to us all but while we still breathe we must live life with purpose and passion.  Tomorrow may never get here.  The body may return to the earth but those who die fastest are those who live life with regret and dreams unfulfilled.  Look into your heart and examine your life, your pursuits and your passions. Question whether you’re on the right path.  If you were to die tomorrow what impact would you have had? Would you be remembered like a star that burns bright and then disappears? Would your soul live on in the souls of others? Would only the ones closest to you remember your name minutes after the words of prayer and forgetfulness have been read over your shut eyelids?

We must all figure out why we are put on the earth. What is our purpose? We all die but few of us live. Not one of us is promised tomorrow but while we exist we must change our lives and by default our destinies.

Are you alive or are you killing yourself softly by waiting for someone to give you permission to live?

Walk with faith & purpose.

In order to change our lives we must first change our minds. For many this is a hard concept to grasp. We are committed to ideas, thoughts and actions and a lifetime of routine makes it hard for us to change course once our paths have been set. As women we have expectations. We want things. We want to be married, we want to be loved and we want to avoid feeling pain. If love is what we are after we think that it should land in our laps without hurt or rejection being a part of the game plan. Those of us who are afraid of heartbreak pray for the white dress but hide behind protective glass that even the greatest disappointment can’t shatter. We use our emotional walls as barricades. Nothing can hurt us because we keep all negative emotions out but by default we don’t let any positive emotions in. As with all things worth having, if we want big results we have to take big risks. This means risking our most prized possession: our hearts.

The Super is a daredevil. I’ll leap and jump off anything just for the rush. I’m a lion with the nerves of Mel Gibson playing Braveheart. It’s nothing for me to endanger myself physically. I’ll bungee jump in a heartbeat. I’ll leap from a plane if asked. A roller coaster going 100 miles per hour makes adrenalin run through my veins. I think a little jeopardy makes life interesting. I’m brave and strong. It’s my belief that many strong women have the illusion of fearlessness even as they live in terror. They fear being weak, needy and vulnerable. Being dependent on another human being for their happiness makes them huddle in fear. If they want nothing and need nothing then they can avoid being let down. But this fear robs them of their ability to live life not with expectation but with intent. As women we have to set a course for ourselves, let our mind accept our intentions and seek love and happiness wherever its hiding. Like the contestants on the old show Fear Factor we have to face our fears head on and not take the coward’s way out. The way to change our love lives is to fight fear daily until courage is ingrained.

Are you afraid? Does fear factor into why you haven’t gotten the love and life you want?

Show me the bling, show me the ring or else! Whoa there. I know good men are scarce, rent aint cheap and bad ass kids are hard to raise by our lonesome. As women we want a man in the home so when we yell out, honey I’m home, someone besides the wall will hear. We watch Say Yes to the Dress, the Wedding Channel and read Bride with desire in our hearts and hope in our breasts. We want, no, need a man that we don’t have to share.  We’ve had enough of the cheaters, schemers, womanizers and playboy extraordinaires. We want a man that we can lock down and throw away the key?  Our need to throw up the deuces sign to the dating scene has made some of us teeter on the edge of despair. We’ve paid our dues and we feel entitled to our diamond bling. The desire to quit the single scene has made a man no longer an option for happily ever after but a must. We think that to make this happen we have to get aggressive. Lord you better send me someone before I have to come up there. After we’ve sent up heavenly death threats in the form of prayers we attack the marriage thing like a 5^th grade science project.  It’s at this point that things shift. Now, instead of dating for fun or companionship, we date potential mates with intent.  Each man that comes into our lives must wear a bulletproof vest and protective gear. He doesn’t know it but he’s a target.  Within seconds of meeting him we make assessments and out comes our list.  Does he have a job? Check. No kids, one kid, takes care of his kids? Check. Is he packing? Check. Check. Check. Is he wack, weak, trifling or mean? Double X. Is he short, stupid, stubborn or dyslexic?  X and X. Can he stroke, poke and whine his waist like a Chippendale? Check. Most importantly will his last name sing together beautifully with ours and mesh?  Check and happy girl cartwheel.

Forget that we don’t like him. Disregard the fact that he may be perfect but not for us? We want that diamond and we want it now.  The Super is not saying we should wait until Larenz Tate in Love Jones and Billy Dee in Lady Sings the Blues and every other black knight we’ve ever watched on television appears, but as any married or divorced woman will tell you, getting the ring is easier than waking up beside your hubby everyday with a smile on your face.  Don’t give into your S & M instincts by straddling love, binding its wrist, stepping on its chest with your heels on and cracking the whip. You can’t dominate the diamond and show it who’s boss. Proposals don’t submit to force.  Deny the diamondatrix within who wants to inflict pain on their relationships by pushing marriage onto every man that exists.  Don’t make the men in our lives have to chose between marriage or the whip.

Are you a diamondatrix trying to get love and a ring through force?

Do you have T&A (tits and ass for those who don’t text)? If you do you might as well mark a red X on your back because you’re going down?  Some women don’t like other women, so much so that without provocation they’re always in the process of plotting a sister’s downfall and demise. Most folks work in places where there is an abundance of muchachas. You can’t escape them because they overflow the cubicles and are everywhere. In places where women congregate in great numbers I’d like to tell you that it’s all India Arie and group hugs, but that would be a bald faced lie. Truth is, as it most cases where there is an excess of estrogen, many women spend their time locked in battle and missions meant to search and destroy. Sometimes we don’t know why we’re doing it. We see a woman who seems to have it going on and we claim that she thinks she’s all that. We tell ourselves that she is the enemy because she acts like her shit don’t stink. We claim that we don’t like her spirit because she thinks she’s better than somebody. All excuses for being trifling and mean. To survive and prosper, as women we have to stop fighting amongst ourselves. There’s nothing uglier than ladies locked in combat. It could be argued that we’re not taught to love each other. Instead, we are taught to compete, demean, chop down and scorn. These actions stem from envy and insecurity. As we struggle for equality we must understand that we can’t fight the world and win while fighting each other. It’s a losing strategy. How can we advance if we do it singularly, one by one and without the support of our sisters? The strategy is plagued with pitfalls. We have to band together and uplift each other or we will fail. Sometimes it’s difficult. Some women are straight back stabbing bitches. Yeah, I used the B word, run and go get the PC Police while I make my point here. Seen too many times to discount, one woman tries to help another but only one lady got the memo to stop the bullshit. As a gender if we want to rise and overcome then we need our sidekicks. We have to be on the lookout for the Robin to our Batman and our island full of Amazon warrior princesses. We all need a cheering squad, mentors and number one fans. To succeed at anything we have to resist the temptation to talk badly about any woman trying to do better for herself. We must refrain from thinking she ain’t shit because she has more shit going on than us. We must battle the temptation to hate on her because she’s more beautiful or talented than we are. We should hope instead that she’s willing to share some of her shine with us so we can shine independently. We must pray, that like some of us, she hasn’t been so disillusioned by bad experiences that she is reluctant to be a friend.  As black women we must abandon our fear and embrace each other. We must realize that women are not our enemies. Resist the urge to use your verbal venom to shoot and kill. Instead, aim your smile and acceptance their way and pull the trigger.

Are you a female assassin licensed to Lady Kill?

Are you a Lady Killer?