Small Doses

by Amanda Seales

  Homegirl: “He likes me!”

  Manda: “Well how do you know that he likes you?”

  Homegirl: “Because he texts me on the regular and you know I get my good morning text every morning and, you know, he just shows me attention.”

  Manda: And I’m like, “Okay but does he show you affection?”

  Homegirl: *mad silencio* “Whatchumean?”

  A lot of us feel like just because someone is acknowledging our presence, that means that they like us or even love us. I, however, think there’s more to it. Especially when it’s in the form of a text. Ya see, technology has made paying attention easy. It takes close to nothing to pay attention within the context of today’s technological standards. You can be fixing a car while breastfeeding while getting a pedicure while paying your BFF attention as she texts away about how annoying the dude at her job is who keeps telling his boss he’s scared of her because she’s a black woman who is unafraid to correct him. All you have to do is respond intermittently with a, “Oh, hell nah,” “Shut up!,” or “You go to HR on his ass yet?” and you’ve paid ample attention. You can text a guy a Ntozake Shange choreopoem-length piece on your feelings, and even if he’s on the other end of the phone at a strip club puttin’ dollaz in a thong strap, as long as he responds in a timely fashion (for most that’s five to ten minutes, for others that’s five to ten seconds or five to ten days) with some form of acknowledgement, i.e., “word,” “cool,” or “I feel you ” you feel paid attention to! Not saying it’s wrong, but it’s surface. It takes nothing to send you (and ten other people) a good morning text every morning. It creates expectation and consistency, but it lacks content and true connection.

  It’s literally the difference between watering your plants and talking to your plants. When you water your plants, you’re giving them the basic necessities they need to keep growing. However, when you talk to your plants you’re nurturing them and giving them personal attention that actually taps into their consciousness and allows them to flourish in a whole other way. This is scientifically proven, y’all! I’m not just talking out my ass. Affection is shown in many different forms, but most of all it’s curated and direct. It lacks generalities and is filled with nuance. In the case of our technology-based world, it’s about taking time (and data) to show someone you care. Instead of just texting Happy Birthday, it’s making a bday playlist just for that person. Instead of sending another text that says “TBY” (thinking ’bout you), send a voice memo of what part of them you’re thinking about that’s making you smile. Instead of sending a pic, make a lil slideshow set to a song you know they like, or will like, or simply call someone, or, even better, schedule a (or if y’all are at a certain level, pop up on the) Skype/FaceTime. In this fast-paced day and age, affection can seem as dead as chivalry, but all it takes is a little bit of applied consciousness.

  It is also valuable to examine the distinction between affection and attention and how they are applied beyond the context of technology. It is important because it really is the difference between you settling for some shit or nah. When we think that someone just paying us attention is enough, it can send the message that we don’t need to make an emotional connection with them. I’m sure folks read this and had an epiphany about what they’re receiving, and in some cases, what they’re giving, because some people don’t even know that they’re just paying attention. They’re in a relationship right now like, “I show my girl love. We watch TV together. I send her GM texts.” That ain’t affection. That’s attention, which, contrary to the popularity of being “busy” these days, is the easy part ’cause affection requires you to be present emotionally, spiritually, mentally. Which for hella people can be very scary. And that’s the shit that be making people be like, “Nah Imma just stick to them GM texts.” Because once you open up in those ways, then you start to have a real connection with somebody. You know what can happen when you have a real connection with somebody? They can break your heart, they can tear you down, they can shatter your world! You might say, “It ain’t worth it! I can’t come back from that!” So you let fear get in the way. You know what else happens when you make a real connection with somebody? They can open your world up. They can inspire your spirit. They can bring a frequency to your space that helps you heal your wounds. You gotta get over that fear because when you show affection and you make connections with people, you’re making a connection with yourself. When you find a connection with yourself, it makes it possible for you to connect in other ways, beyond your current levels, to your purpose, to what you’re here for, and to where you want to ascend to. So when it comes to attention versus affection, find you somebody that ain’t just gonna water you, but someone that’s also gonna nurture you.

  Thank You, Innanets

  THAT ONE TIME

  The ’gram and these innanets have been a gift and a curse to dating. We’ve discussed some of the curse of it all, from texting, to faux connections, unsolicited dick pics, and more. However, there are positives. Some would say it’s a gift because it brought them together. A slide into the DMs or a swipe right and “You’re a match” on Tinder has led to people actually having children together or in some cases full-on marriage. Creating spaces for like-minded folks has given hope to those who had given up on finding “the one.” For the long distancers, Skype and FaceTime and being able to talk over Wi-Fi has been a Godsend. When it comes to missed connections, it was these interwebs that have been able to reunite two ships passing in the night. However, there is another gift that the digital age has provided many of us with, and that is the gift of the dodged bullet! It’s almost enough to make you think, You know what, maybe the machines do want us to win. I cannot tell you how many times the internet has prevented me from wasting my time. I’ll give you some of the highlights!

  OMA-NO-SIR

  One time I met a dude at a friend’s birthday party. He was all the basics: tall, handsome, witty. I was smitten. Then I got home, and settled into an IG deep dive to learn a little more about my potential future beau. FOUR PICS INTO HIS IG he was hanging out, all chummed up, with Ms. No Ma’am herself, Omarosa. Not only was he in pics with her, he was referring to her has a friend and as a black queen. No sir. I forgot his name as I quickly clicked through to look at a cat profile to cleanse my palate of the bullet dodged!

  THE LYING LAWYER

  One New York night, I was post-breakup at an event my homeboy was throwing, and on my way out of the door feeling hella “Stella had her groove hacked,” when the DJ threw on So So Def Bass All-Stars’s “My Boo.” My. Jam. I had to stay. So, I did an about-face and headed back to the dance floor to get my solo groove on. Then, out the corner of my eye, I realized (dun Dun DUNNN), I was not alone. A tall, quite dapper, mahogany-toned gentleman was doing his best Bankhead bounce to my left, and once he caught my eye, he started closing the gap between us. I obliged as, one, it was THE JAM, and two, he was fine in a “in college I would have a crush on you if you were my professor, but now we’re both adults and I can act on it without fear of consequence” kind of way. So, there we were, jammin’ on the one, and when the song was done, he sidled up to me and we did the obligatory name ask, *insert joke* *insert laugh* exchange. We headed to the bar and the convo was great. We had shared interests, he was a lawyer, he had played football at a noteworthy university, he loved all cuisine aside from Thai, he lived in Jersey, he knew all the words to “Shawty Swing My Way.” After one dance the man was giving me a total download of the important elements of his existence, and considering his gorgeous smile and the meticulous tailoring of his suit, I was there for it! Shortly thereafter the event began shutting down and folks were exiting, but before we were out the door my dance partner asked for my digits. I happily shared and spotted a homeboy who lived in my neighborhood to share a cab uptown with. While grabbing a slice before heading up the West Side, I got a message from Sir Suit saying he was so happy to have met and that he’d love to take me out. I WAS BEAMING. I’m surprised my smile d
idn’t derail oncoming traffic. Aside from the fact that I really enjoyed our convo, this meant that “I still got it!” Even after being dumped, mama could pull ’em on or off the dance floor! I was floating. And a lawyer, no less! This was Jackpot City, USA! I got home and, excited at this new prospect, texted my homegirl the good news. I was expecting a response like, “That’s wassup!” or “Okay, girl!” But no. She replied, “Did you Google him?” I hadn’t even considered it. She told me that before she gets even REMOTELY hype about ANY man, she gets to the Googles and does a background check. It made sense. Employers always do a Google search to check if anything glaring comes up regarding their new employees before hiring, why wouldn’t we do same thing regarding a new prospect for baeness?

  I took her advice and entered his name into the search engine. Y’all, I DIDN’T HAVE TO GO TO THE SECOND PAGE BEFORE THE FUCKERY WAS REVEALED. I begin to read a recent interview with his alma mater, skimming and scanning for a red flag, and four questions in, there it was. Surprise, this man was married! With a whole wife, a whole child, and an ENTIRE newborn baby at home in their beds while he was out cutting a rug and asking newly single sistas like me on dates and inquiring about our fave cuisine! The nerve! Somewhere between, “I played football” and “I’m not a fan of Thai food” he managed to skip over the part where he had a full family! I was livid. Not one to let someone get away with thinking they pulled the du-rag over my eyes, I replied to his message with a link to the article. He wrote back saying that he was going to tell me eventually that he was married. I told him I hope his wife (whom I’d already found on Facebook, btw) eventually realized her man is trifling and left his ass. Bullet dodged. Thanks, innanets!

  INSTAGRAM FORENSIC SPECIALIST

  I consider myself an Instagram Forensic Specialist. Honestly, so many of us are! Using critical thinking, comparative analysis, and the powers of deduction and research, I am able to get a pretty good rendering of a person simply from what they post on IG. It’s a very useful skill and has come in handy more than a few times in the bullet-dodgery category. One particular evening comes to mind when I found myself on a date with a dude who I’d met on the train. Since we had no mutuals, my IG forensic skills were in need more than ever. I skimmed and scoured, went down rabbit holes and up through comment threads until I felt like I had enough info to feel like this was not a complete waste of time. So, when he asked me out for a hang, I obliged. While sitting in high-ass chairs at a high-ass table in a restaurant on the lower west side of Harlem, his IG meandered its way into our conversation. I mentioned that it was rather revealing, and he was taken aback. Hesitantly, he asked how. When I divulged that I was a certified IGFS he grew relieved and laughed. Surely, I was joking. There’s no such thing. What could I possibly know about him from his Instagram that wasn’t conspicuous? I asked if he’d like me to share. He hesitated, like you would before a psychic asks, “Do you want to know if he’s the one?” and then said, “Yeah, sure, why not” and took the plunge. I began by first asking him how he’s liking his new job.

  Him: Okay okay, how’d you know I had a new job?

  Me: You had a bunch of pics at a job. Then no more pics there and weeks of pics of you doing absolutely nothing during the day, then a pic of you with new coworkers in a whole other setting. Clearly, you got a new job.

  Him: Alright, that’s impressive. What else?

  Me: I dunno, it’s a bit dark. Not sure if you wanna go there.

  Him: (Pausing for the psychic again) Nah, I do. Spit it.

  Me: (measured) Well, how are you dealing with your brother’s passing?

  He cocked his head at me like a dog hearing a new command and wasn’t sure what to do with the accuracy of the information. He hadn’t outright said his brother had passed anywhere on his IG. This is true. He did, however, have pics of him and his brother and then alluvasudden posted a #tbt with them and the caption “I can’t believe this is real.” One of the comments said, “I just heard about your brother on the news. So sorry.” I Googled, and voila there it was, the news story about his brother. He didn’t inquire how I knew. It didn’t matter.

  Him: It’s been hard but I’m doing okay.

  Me: Good.

  Him: Okay something else. We can’t end on that note.

  Me: You sure?

  Him: Yea, you really are good at this. I’m impressed.

  Me: Okay. One more . . .

  I go to his IG and scan the pics ’til I locate the one in particular that had given me pause. I show it to him

  Me: Who’s that?

  The pic is of him and a pretty brown-skinned gal at a chic NYC brunch event. They’re dressed to the nines and are posing together in a familiar, non-suggestive way. The caption, on the other hand, is telling to the knowing eye and reads: Him and Her.

  Him: (looking at the pic) Oh, it’s complicated.

  When he said, “It’s complicated,” it confirmed the inconvenient truth I had deduced from the pic, that he clearly had feelings for this unnamed styletastic woman in a real way. In which case, what am I even doing here? I’m not a space filler nor of a mind to win one’s heart away from another.

  Me: And just like that, this has gone from a date to an outing.

  Bullet dodged. Preshate ya, innanets!

  HAUNTING HASHTAG

  I had just broken up with my boyfriend of almost two years for what I was committed to making the last time. We had a habit of breakups to makeups that typically came when my loneliness would swoop in like Santa with an unwanted gift, and I would fold and welcome him back into my home, my bed, my body. It was a terrible cycle that had to end, but what would it take? It seemed like nothing could get this breakup to stick! It had been a week, and he was leaving my favorites, Sweet Chili Doritos and Red Plum Nantucket Nectars, on my doorstep every day. He was also leaving carnations. Now, listen, I love and respect all flowers, but carnations are not a strong choice of apology flower. They basically say, “this was the most convenient option and so I got it cuz women like flowers?” Don’t do carnations. Nonetheless, the other snacks were moving me because everyone wants something nice to be done for them and, real talk, everyone wants to be liked and cared about. I took these tokens as an example of his love and remorse for being an unpredictable, mean ol’ prick. I was becoming fragile, the chinks in my armor began to show, and I decided to look at his page to see if maybe viewing his IG would either fill up the empty space that was missing and tide me over ’til tomorrow or reveal some wack shit that would set me straight. I devoured his page a pic at a time hoping it would suffice, but I still craved his companionship. Then I had a brainwave to look at the hashtag he had created for himself. There it was. Him, in a club, with a girl straddling him, a week ago. So basically, this took place, and then the same hands he had on her thighs in the pic were the ones he used to pick a yellow carnation out of a PVC bucket to leave on my doorstep!? I was mortified. I called him and demanded to know who this woman was. Without hesitation he said her name and that he’d slept with her that night. I couldn’t believe it. Here I was still pining over this fool, and he was out in his proverbial black dress taking pics and banging chicks. I asked him, “Why? Why would you do this when you’ve been coming here every morning trying to get me back?” He replied, “Because I’m weak.” He was weak?! He was weak. I think he thought that saying that would be an impressive self-aware response. In a way, it was, because he had shown that he was weak in so many ways, so many times, but this time, I finally heard him. Then I heard myself. I heard my inner voice reminding me that I am strong. Strong women cannot thrive with weak men. A revolutionary woman’s love will not be won passively. I told him all of the above, and it was the first real step I took in not going back to stand in front of the target where he’d fire his next bullet. Nope, not this time. Bullet dodged. Merci, innanets.

  So, you see, the interwebs have come to my aid more than a few times, making sure that I am not wasting my time, and that I am clear on who I’m giving my time to. I know so
me will consider this cynical and taking the natural process away from learning someone. There is some truth to that, but at the end of the day, like most technological advancements, the innanets are a gift and a curse, and if it can help you avoid someone who is a curse, then it’s the gift that keeps on giving!

  SIDE EFFECTS OF

  The Curve

  Nobody likes it

  But it’s something that we

  all have to manage

  How to give it and how to take it

  Without your ego getting damaged.

  THE TROUBLE WITH THE CURVE

  Let’s start off by saying it is okay to curve. You do not have to be interested in everybody, and everybody is not going to be interested in you. There’s this misconception that says you have to give everyone a chance or you’re mean, or picky, or difficult, and that’s not true! If I am not interested in your dick, we are just friends. That’s it! And it’s not a diss. It’s just a curve. And you can do that in a way that’s respectful and doesn’t shade or demean anyone.

  The friend zone is not a diss.

  The friend zone is not a diss.

  The friend zone is not a diss.

  HANDLING THE CURVE

  Taking a curve to the chin can be a harrowing experience. You gotta pick up your whole face off the ground and get on with your life, which, in the moment, can seem like an impossible feat. The most important thing is not to let the curve take away your confidence or leave you bitter. Let it steer you in a better direction. As Michelle, a hairstylist on the set of Insecure, once told me, “Man’s rejection is God’s protection.”

  ENTERING THE FRIEND ZONE

  “The Friend Zone” gets a bad rap, but let’s clear some things up. First: Yes, it’s a curve, but it’s not a diss. If someone isn’t interested in you romantically, but they still enjoy your connection, that’s fair! What’s not cool is when the “friend zone” is used as a tactic to keep you romantically accessible without the commitment of a romantic relationship. In the beginning of seeing someone, it’s like Mufasa introducing Simba to the Pride Lands: “Everything the lights touches is yours.” The possibilities are endless: We could be just dating, we could be just friends, we could fall in love! It’s open season. But as you get to know each other more, you might just feel like, “You know what? We’re more suited for the friend space.” However, once you’ve breached the physical intimacy barrier, the boundaries have to get clear. The person you thought you were moving into bae life with can slide you right into the friend zone with benefits, i.e., a situationship. So, be careful with the wielding of the “friend zone.” If you truly only like the person as a friend, all good. If you like more than a friend but don’t want to have to do more than a friend, that’s wack. Bonus: If you’re actually “friend zone-ing” because you know you’re a piece of shit and you don’t want to get any deeper with the person and “ruin the friendship” when they find out, you should stop dating and work on YOU.