I am Lois Lane

Recently I came across a quote by Assata Shakur, a Black Panther who was convicted in the murder of a New Jersey state trooper back in the day. She is the aunt of the late rapper and my would-have-been baby daddy, Tupac Shakur. May he rest in peace.

Lawd. Have. Mercy. Yummy Genius.

Did I ever tell the story of me seeing him perform live at the Ritz in DC back in the day when I was in college? I was *this close* to him and his teeth sparkled and he was amazing. He performed "I Get Around". Heart be still, I almost died. Anyway, back to the topic at hand.

So his aunt, Assata Shakur, was a Black Panther. And she once said, "A revolutionary woman can't have no reactionary man." Despite having read her autobiography many years ago I don't remember this quote. But the other day when I saw it posted on a friend's Facebook page, I had an Oprah "aha" moment.

Ms. Assata Shakur

A couple of things: 1) Is it egotistical to call oneself a revolutionary? And if not or even if so, am I one of them? 2) Can I be bougie and be an activist at the same time?

I argue that one can, and in fact it's a very practical way to approach the revolution these days, since you're more likely to effect change from within the system than by staging a coup (at least in the US). So, I don't think that designer shoes or Mizani butter blend disqualify a person from radical or progressive thought and agitation.

So let's for the sake of argument say, that I am a revolutionary. Why and how is another topic. Let's just give me that, because I kind of think that I am. And that is the reason why the reactionary men I've dated haven't become men I've mated. (I couldn't resist the rhyme, in honor of Tupac.)

This is the story of Superman. A lovely, intelligent, amazing, sweet boy whom I liked and who liked me, but ultimately bored me to tears until I found a way to blow the whole thing up and send him on his way. I may have also done it for entertainment. Don't mistake me for a drama queen (or rather, this isn't what makes me a drama queen, it's something else altogether) I just literally was so bored by this man I used to cry about it.

Superman and I met several years ago when we started working at the same company at the same time. He was super cute, looked a little like this guy must have looked 30 years ago:

Michael Lee Chin. Billionaire of Chinese-Jamaican descent

Lots of folks don't know there are a lot of Chinese people in Jamaica, and obviously that means a bunch of mixed race Jamaicans with Chinese ancestry. That explains the curry goat/fried rice spots in the hood. In case you were wondering.

Superman was the ultimate gentleman and had an impeccable resume. Ivy league educated, nice to his momma, refused to let me pay for a thing, and he took me to great places. For a second there I thought I could really be into him and that I could fix his nerd fashion because lots of men need a wardrobe makeover and if they let you do it, inept dressing and tightey whiteys (which I didn't learn about until the absolute END) shouldn't be a deal breaker. Right?

But here's the thing. I realized over time that I did all the talking and he did all the laughing. So I said to myself, "Self, you gotta stop running your mouth the whole time and let this man speak. He's smart!" So I did and I PROMISE you...he had very little to say. Maybe his mind was tired from his 100 hour per week job (some folks roll like that, and he was one of them) or maybe it was just empty or maybe, he just didn't care to share with me. That's all possible. Unfortunately that created an experience wherein I was just bored to tears.

I'm not this old but this is an equal opportunity image blog.

We casually dated on and off for like a year or so, and this man was literally so passive he never even tried to kiss me. I finally kissed him like six months in. After chewing on this for literally months I actually don't think it was because he wasn't interested in that - me in particular or women in general. I sincerely think he was just that passive, at least with me. To encourage his man mojo I told him his nickname was Superman, because he worked so hard and was so smart and still found time to do other things. I hoped this would help him to live up to the moniker. Unfortunately what it did was embolden him to reveal his collection of super hero figurines to me, which decorated his apartment all over. Very 40 Year Old Virgin. And to make it worse, he was really a Spiderman fan but I just couldn't bring myself to call him Spiderman even though really, Spidey is more exciting than Superman...

So all the ideas I poured out and thoughts I expressed, were met with an amused chuckle to the point where I wanted to stab him in the neck just to get a reaction. I didn't do this and of course never would, but you know...something has gotta happen, sometime. It was all very whatever kind of music you like.

We fizzled. Actually, we blew up. Fizzle doesn't describe it. In my extreme frustration with his missing personality, I seized an opportunity one fateful September night in 2008, and picked a blow out fight with him on some corner in Chelsea in front of quite a lot of people, and that was that. We spoke once the next day and I did apologize for what I said. But I wasn't sorry, because I didn't care one bit. Existentially I cared, but not about him aside from caring about his general humanity, which we all share.

It is so tempting to settle into a relationship with a malleable and agreeable fellow who has enough of the right characteristics to please the crowd. I've met so many and had a shot being with more than one of them. The truth however is that a man with nothing to say, who does nothing, who protests nothing, who agitates never, is a total bore. And even worse, a man with no ideals or principles, a man who just occupies himself with the daily grind, is a bore and at the same time heartbreaking to walk away from, because these are the men who change your oil, ask about your day, rub your feet and may even be faithful. The ones you should be taking home to mama. Well not my mama because she likes interesting men too. THANK GOODNESS she doesn't like foot rubs or else the pressure would be overwhelming.

How do I find a man of action and progressive thought whose money isn't funny and won't insist I wear my hair natural and tolerate living in some shitbox? Which I have and would, just not as directed. The hair part. Not the shitbox part. That aint gonna happen again if I can help it. So is this guy on OKCupid or Match.com? Is he at the club, at the financial services professionals networking function, or is he one of my mother's friend's sons? Is he at Homecoming for my alma mater or the Alliance Française French film night? Is he chasing white girls like the Black Panthers or sweating NQW chicks like Kanye West? Is he white, brown, yellow, Puerto Rican or Haitian? Is he at the liberry?

Where does a smart woman with an active mind and a lot to say, find her match? Or should I just shut up and focus on becoming a better cook and get some fake boobs along the way? Sure would be easier...

Maybe I'll just get a dog.