Whos Loving You (26 page)

T
he answer for me is simple, “I am.”

My life is fantastic! I get out of bed when I’m ready. I write when and where I want. I have a beautiful son. When I’m at home, I’m blessed to awaken to a breathtaking view of the sun shimmering on the lake. I have no reason, not a single one, to be unhappy. I work hard, and I know how to enjoy myself. I travel extensively. I appreciate people. For me, the master key to my internal joy is that I don’t feel guilty about anything I do.

I see whomever I want, whenever I choose. I don’t lie. I don’t have to cheat. And I’m not a pretender. I don’t say I like you if I don’t. The word
love
and the words
I love you,
I only speak them if I mean it.

When I travel, I have the wonderful opportunity to meet new men and reunite with former acquaintances. I decide to what extent I’m interested in sharing time with the men I meet. I try my best to live in the moment, because memories last a lifetime.

I don’t need a man to provide for my son and me. Nor will I take care of a grown-ass man. There are times when I think I’d prefer to be in a relationship, that is, until a man is in my space for more than seventy-two hours. Then I realize I want him to leave. I’ve discovered that three days is my threshold.

Black men nowadays are chronic complainers, and they have way too many hang-ups. By the time black men finish complaining, I’m drained. I accept responsibility in my role, and I consciously strive to accentuate the positive in their lives, because I am truly happy and I want the people around me to be happy, too. Black men dump their problems and won’t listen to a woman for more than five minutes; then they gotta go. Who needs that headache? Definitely not me.

My concept of being in a relationship is having the ability to communicate openly, to not personalize what the other person says, to explore fantasies together (not behind one another’s back), and to uplift and support one another to the highest heights possible.

The lyrics “I can do bad by myself” are so true. The opposite is my reality. I’m doing great dating openly. Sex makes me happy, so while I’m guilty of taking the dick and running, I don’t feel guilty for doing so. Once in a while, I will slow down just to see if a brotha is sincere in his desire for a meaningful relationship. Then he’ll say something like, “I want to take my time.” In what? Dog years? I ain’t got that kind of time to wait around on you. Next! Too many women miss wonderful opportunities—career, sex, traveling, hanging with their girlfriends, etc.—because they wait in vain for a man to decide how they should live their life. I’m honest, y’all, sometimes to a fault, because I tell guys that I’m having sex with other men.

Some men have told me they actually enjoy misleading a woman, treating her nice but never making a commitment to her. And when she gets jealous of the other woman, her tears or outrage stokes the male ego. That’s why I keep it real with how I feel.

I must admit, my attitude is healthy for me but very intimidating for most men.

I have a guy friend or two in most major cities that I travel to, like Atlanta, New York, D.C., Los Angeles, Louisville, I had one for a long time in New Orleans, my Chicago friend moved to Philly, and in my hometown, there are always a few good dicks hanging around.

I’m not saving myself for when a special man comes along. I don’t have that kinda time. For me, love is simple, love is consistent, love is powerful, and love is uplifting. There are some guarantees in life. For me, one guarantee is I love myself more than anyone else, and that keeps Mary B. Morrison extremely happy.

I
am grateful for the finest things in life…love, happiness, peace, family, friends, fans (without you there’d be no
New York Times
bestselling author Mary B. Morrison), and God’s grace.

My ultimate joy is my one and only twenty-one-year-old, six-foot-nine, super-handsome, intelligent, and talented son, Jesse Bernard Byrd, Jr. Oh my goodness, he’s like totally legal now. Wow! I remember the day he was born. A lot has happened since then. Time flies. I respect single parents, like myself, who have the majority, if not all, of the responsibility for their kids and are constantly sacrificing to rear them. Instill good values in your children. Let them see you work hard, let them see you smile, let them see you cry, and constantly tell them, “I love you.” Jesse is a young man of great character. God gave me the right child. Jesse is at the University of California, Santa Barbara, pursuing his dream of playing in the NBA.

Elester Noel and Joseph Henry Morrison are my biological parents. Both of my parents have made their transition into eternity, my mother when I was nine years old, and my father when I was twenty-four years old. For those of you who are blessed to still have your parents, cherish them.

I’m blessed with the greatest siblings in the world—Wayne Morrison, Andrea Morrison, Derrick Morrison, Regina Morrison, Margie Rickerson, and Debra Noel. Man, I don’t know what I’d do without them or my cousins, Edward Allen and Treece Johnson-Mallard.

This is the first time I have had to call upon my friends to read my work and give me feedback, and I’m glad my ego didn’t overrule my senses. I want to thank Eve Lynne Robinson, Malissa Walton, Denise Kees, Debra Burton (of Turning Pages Book Club), and Lisa Johnson (of Sistahs on the Reading Edge) for all saying yes. I love you guys!

Turbo Tongue, what can I say about you without writing a tell-nothing, keep-that-shit-to-myself, off-the-hook kinda book? Straight up, with your orgasmic voice, you need your own damn radio talk show. “Tell me a deep secret.” Thank you for making me laugh until I cry, smile until my cheeks hurt, and you know you make me wanna shout! Throw my hands up! Cum on now! Work it. Work it out…LOL. You’re the best.

When I think of the success I’ve had since self-publishing in 2000, I think of Felicia Polk, a true friend who supported me from day one; Vyllorya A. Evans, my mentor and friend; my son, Jesse Byrd, Jr., who has never complained about the sacrifices he’s made to support my literary career; Selena James, my editor who cares about my vision; Karen R. Thomas, my editor who believes in every book I write; Laurie Parkin, a phenomenal woman who’s never too busy to respond to me; Linda Duggins, my publicist extraordinaire; Adeola Saul, my publicist and superwoman; Karen Auerbach, my publicist who makes dreams come to life; LaToya Smith, my shero; Steven Zacharius, a man who holds my best interests at hand; Walter Zacharius, a visionary who includes me in his plans; Claudia Menza, my agent and dear friend who tirelessly supports me; Andrew Stuart, my agent and biggest advocate; Eve Lynne Robinson, my fabulous photographer and friend; Kim Mason, my web designer and so much more; and Lou Richie, my family for life.

When I began writing, there was a longer list of African American independent bookstores owned by die-hard booksellers with a passion for black literature and authors. I truly miss our huge supporters. My success is their success because of Michele Lewis, Emma Rogers, Sherry McGee, Maleta, Brother Simba, Brother Yao, and Vera Warren-Williams.

Feel free to hit me up with a piece of your world at www.marymorrison.com and let me know Who’s Loving You. Peace and prosperity.

Catch up with the daring and sexy Honey Thomas in

Unconditionally Single

In stores August 2009

B
efore reading
Unconditionally Single,
I’d like for you to take a moment to identify your relationship needs. These are the things you must have in order to cultivate a healthy union with the person you’d like to marry or consider your life partner.

After identifying your needs, list your desires. These are the hobbies or things you enjoy and would love to do with your mate. Let your imagination explore the corners of your deepest fantasies.

I find that most individuals cannot readily identify their relationship needs. They kind of meet a person, stumble into like, trip into love, then fall into love/hate, never having asked of themselves or the other person, “What are your relationship needs?”

Somewhere along the way, perhaps months, maybe years later, they discover one another. Some find out that money is more important to their mate than love. The one with the most money is more powerful. Sex once a day, once a week, or once a month is either too much or not enough. In creeps infidelity and misery.

When a woman or teenage girl has an unplanned pregnancy, she automatically expects the man to do all the right things for her and their child. Most women hope the man will marry her because she’s carrying his baby. Instead, the man stands on the fifty yard line for nine months like he’s watching an uneventful football game—drinking beer, chilling with his boys, bragging about his other woman, what he did to and with her last night, while waiting for the fourth quarter to end—waiting for her third trimester to conclude. Then he prays for confirmation, his bet is good and he is not the father, mainly so he doesn’t have to pay child support.

Clueless about how much daycare, diapers, and the daily cost of providing for a child is, she gives birth. Clueless that one night of pleasure can bring her a lifetime of emotional and financial hardships. The natural progression of blind-love and lust, eventually heats up into resentment for both partners. Thus begins the battle of the sexes to see who can hurt the other the most. These relationship tragedies can be avoided or minimized through effective communication and safe sex, and more importantly, if both individuals enter the relationship knowing their needs.

Unconditionally single does not mean you don’t desire marriage. I’m encouraging you to know what you need and desire before getting married or becoming involved with someone. Share what’s important to you with your potential mate. I urge all men and women to read The Honey Diaries series before getting married.

On my way from the Antigua & Barbuda Literary Festival, I boarded the plane in Antigua to Miami, settled in my window seat. A newly married couple sat next to me. The wife, to my immediate right, her husband was seated at the aisle. The seemingly happy, giddy, constantly kissing couple couldn’t keep their hands off one another. He lived in Canada. They were headed to Los Angeles to pack her belongings then drive to their new residence in Canada. Halfway through the flight, he pulls out two sandwiches. The husband looks at his wife and asks, “Do you like rye or would you prefer the other sandwich?”

My eyebrows raised as I continued reading Eric Jerome Dickey’s
Sleeping with Strangers,
thinking, “They barely know one another.” Obviously he likes rye, he’d purchased the sandwiches, and he didn’t ask what she wanted. How well should a couple know one another before marrying? So many marriages end in divorce because people marry strangers.

Oh, well. That couple are probably of the majority who wander in and out of love, life, and relationships wondering why they keep choosing the wrong jobs and the wrong mates. What’s your passion? Your talents? What excites you?

I hear some of you talking to yourself, asking, “What are Mary B. Morrison’s needs since she has all the answers?”

Honestly, I don’t have all the answers, but I am a thinking woman and I do know my passion, talents, what excites me, and I understand my eternal evolving needs. Like you, as I continue to emotionally grow, my needs change. But my
basic
needs are always clear.

I date openly, knowing that the man I will enter into an open relationship with will show up. I don’t have to build him, change him, or create him out of play dough. (But if I did build him, I’d use Steven A. Smith as my model.) I don’t have to look under the covers or search the corporate boardroom for him. I meet men everywhere I go. I enjoy men. I’m not reserving, preserving, or praying for God to send me Mr. Right. Waiting for “a good man” would be a waste of my time.

Here are my relationship needs:

• He must be intelligent, highly capable of expressing his views on politics, religion, sex, and sexuality.
  
• He must have friends. A man’s friends tell you a lot about him.
  
• He cannot be a minimalist, satisfied with getting by or over to make his ends. Minimalists are underachieving, shiftless lazy leeches looking for handouts. I don’t date cheap or selfish men. He can do bad on his own.
  
• He must be an entrepreneur or realistically striving to become his own boss. I don’t mean the men who spit game about what they gon’ do all the while they layin’ up on a woman, burying her under his philosophical bullshit. “Baby let’s buy a ________ to-ge-ther.” Translation, his credit is fucked up.
  
• He cannot be envious of my success or my lifestyle. I work extremely hard. Trust me, lots of men are jealous of successful independent women. I’m a full-time writer for two major publishers. I travel extensively. I own Mary B. Morrison, Incorporated, Sweeter Than Honey, and Lift Every Voice and Write (my non-profit).
  
• He must have a sense of humor (this ranks at the top of my list). Know how to laugh; make me laugh. Have fun. And Lord knows he cannot be depressing, dragging around his garbage like he’s a sanitation engineer. I’m no comedian, but I love to make people laugh.
  
• Under no cir
  cum
  stances can he be broke. Hell-to-the-capital-N-O. I do not support men. A broke man should suck his own dick, then tuck his dick between his balls and fuck himself. Especially if he’s sitting on his ass all day waiting for someone else to provide for him. I can’t comprehend his mentality.
  
• He must be great sexually. Open to exploring new sexual territories.
  
• He must agree to an open relationship. Even if I never have sex with anyone except him, I can’t commit to exclusivity because I might meet someone else that I decide to have sex with. No guilty pleasures for me.
  
• He must understand that he is my partner, not my dictator or dick-ta-tor. I have no need or desire for a second husband. Marriage is wonderful for those who need or want it. I don’t. I’m happy and intend to stay this way.
  

Black women and men are not taught how to treat one another. We have generational relationship dysfunction. Our mothers’ mothers’ mothers were raped of their virginity, their children, and their men. Our fathers’ fathers’ fathers were used for breeding with no emotional attachment to family. We still deal with post slavery trauma. We still struggle to genuinely love and appreciate one another. Black men must stop running away from their paternal obligations. Black women must stop unconsciously opening their legs and their hearts. I know it’s hard, but if we seriously think about the “what ifs” before we become involved, our relationship will have a higher survival rate. We have to start someplace. You are the catalyst for change in your life.

Stop entering into relationships primarily to fill the voids of your ancestors. I encourage you to talk to our children about healthy relationships. Take time to embrace and express your needs and desires. Irrespective of your partner’s views, your open and honest communication will prove productive in your relationship.

Be true to yourself.