Wednesday, September 29, 2010


When you’re out (or in) with someone new, how do you know it’s a date? Does the other person feel the same?

I had dinner with a fellow some time ago and the conversation eventually turned to dating. Ol’ boy said he would “go out” with women thinking they were just “hanging out” but the woman thought it was a date. Instead of letting the thoughts hang in the air, I asked him what he thought of our “hanging out.” He stammered around a bit, so I interrupted, clarifying that he was a cool dude, but it wasn’t a date for me. He said he felt the same way but didn’t want to hurt my feelings in the event I believed otherwise. Isn’t communication great?

Now, on another instance, there was some miscommunication. A brother and I made dinner plans for 8 pm. He was supposed to meet me in my neighborhood, and I assumed we would go to dine. But, since my cooking skills are sharp (I’ll take anyone on in the kitchen—just holler!), I decided to surprise him with a home-cooked meal. Excitedly, I stood at my counter dicing onions and mincing garlic and peppering my sauce with spices. With one hour left before his arrival, I was getting ready to whip up a cake or dessert bread. Not only did I want to see him, I was really remiss in cooking so was greatly looked forward to a home-cooked meal. I figured I would have heard from him n hour or so before our 8 p.m. date to confirm my address. Nada. I knew at that point he wasn’t coming but I continued to cook. 8 p.m. Blinking indicator light, but no messages from the brother. Finally, at 9 pm, I send a message that simply read, “?” I didn’t want to talk to him because I KNEW he would have an excuse. Ten seconds later he replied with something along the lines of getting back in the city late (I knew he was scheduled to return to town early that day) and wanting a rain check. I didn’t reply.

I ate dinner alone, disliking the feeling, but surely enjoying the food. I had cooked enough for five servings—leftovers or me and for him to carry to home/work.

A week later, I called, saying that he just wanted to catch up with me and see how things were going. Instantly, I was infuriated. What I wanted was a date a week prior, but thought back to the conversation with ol’ about what constitutes a date and how do you know you’re on one, especially during the beginning stages. Mr. Stood Me Up knew that I was interested in him; we flirted all the time and I said as much. So meeting for dinner shouldn’t have been a question of, “Is this a date?” right? Right?

Two days lapsed and I didn't return his call. In part, I didn’t want to talk to him. I felt like he wasn’t going to even contact me if I didn’t send a message first and that’s just whack. On the flip side for fairness, I wonder if he thought it was a “hang out” session and thought it wasn’t a big deal because we’re “cool people.”

Did I get stood up? Someone holler with sage advice.

Lata Lovelies,
-Betsy “Baller” Ice

Monday, September 20, 2010


Folks, I have a lot on my mind and much to share. First, I wanted to talk about how great my Friday/Saturday was and opposingly, how my Sunday sucked, but I’m distracting by the need to share something else: a dozen things I find annoying or downright deplorable.

So without further adieu, my list.

15. holding in farts
14. people with a cart full of groceries at the 10 items or less express line
13. computer error messages
12. pumping gas
11. braggarts and/or constantly confused people
10. needing to go to work every week day (that 99 weeks of unemployment doesn’t sound that bad right now)
9. knowing that I have a ton of work to do but avoiding it (aka procrastination)
8. not getting a seat on the train
7. shredding papers
6. my mobile phone and/or iPod battery out-charging when I need it most
5. the slimy look and taste of okra
4. people touching my clean clothes with their dirty hands at the Laundromat (who cares if I didn’t take the clothes out the dryer ten seconds after they were done!?!?!?)
3. very laborious housework (i.e. cleaning the toilet tank, painting)
2. my dry cleaning expenses
1. taking a poop at work (besides the fact that almost twenty women at my workplace have to share one bathroom key and the toilet paper feels like burlap on my bottom, it’s just gross. I don’t even have any reading material like I do in my own house so it really is a trip of waste, but at least I had time to think of this blog post!)

What’s on your list? Share here.

Lata Lovelies,
-Betsy “Baller” Ice

Thursday, September 16, 2010


For all the folks that asked where I’d been, I’m back and know that I miss you too. Shoo, I even miss sharing my thoughts and life with you all.

Summer was insane, but in a great way. Those 100 dates? Didn’t happen. Conceptually, another marvelous idea but trying to get folks to honestly talk about their dates, much less even go out on a much needed date, was too much work so I focused on my own adventures. For the record though, an update on the two sets of folks that went out at the start of summer (or at least the way I consider it, Memorial Day weekend.). One person turned their dating spell into a jaunty jump-off situation; the other, didn’t even last three dates. Different beliefs, particular religious (one person was practically an atheist, the other, a devout Christian) ones, makes it difficult to get things poppin’.

I had a great summer and met amazing people. I fell in love with New York again. Museums, concerts, conservatories, Coney Island, dining, rooftop soirees, backyard bashments, and overall one of my most memorable summers in a long time. Of course, there were some dates here and there but no one that made it to the number one position. However, there was this one fellow I met a while back and we “hung out” a few times during the sun-kissed season. Can I just say ol’ boy is hot? He’s arrogant, but intelligent. A jerk, but has moments of tenderness. He’s witty, strong, and has an amazing southern drawl that is like maple syrup pouring over my body instead of Kool-Aid (reference Don’t Be a Menace to South Central While Drinking Your Juice in the Hood). LOL.

Thing is, ol’ boy is twenty-six. And it’s not just him. There’s another fellow I met that said, “I’ll be twenty-seven next month.” I see you trying to get your older man on, but I tend to like men a little older than barely past a quarter of a century. But, it has me thinking that maybe I need to give the young’uns a chance…Like Biggie said, “Young, fresh, and clean with no hair in between/Know what I mean?”

Share your summer adventures...

Lata Lovelies,
Besty “Baller” Ice