A Sex Addict or a Bad Seed

She’s back. The brazen, big-mouthed, too smart for her own good, I hate that I love her, That Teowonna! returns this week.

If you read my blog last weekend, you caught me in a brief moment of public weakness. If you didn’t catch it, good! (My image with you remains intact!) Nevertheless, I’m back. And the object of my attention this week is ESPN sports analyst, Steve Phillips, and any men who get caught with their pants down and are too punk to accept the consequences of their actions.

Dudes, when will ya’ll get it? Sometimes sex just ain’t worth it! The brief moments of pleasure aren’t worth your family, your job and certainly not your reputation and self-respect. Nothing is more disgusting than a man who is so carnal and short-sighted that he will jeopardize everything he holds dear for a piece of tail. Not even good tail… just different, convenient tail. Bill Maher said, “Women like new shoes; men like new sex.” That is so true. But I have never jeopardized anything I value for a new pair of Manolo Blahniks.

But here is what’s even worse… when a man is caught with his pants down, instead of just saying 'I was wrong, please forgive me' (for the 28th time), he tries to blame his lack of self-control on an addiction. Addiction to sex? Gimme a break! I don't buy the whole sex addiction thing, not for one minute. My theory is it is just a convenient excuse for being promiscuous; for being a bad seed.

I had a conversation with a man today and he said he believes that sex can make men do some foolish things but questions if there is really a dependency on sex like there can be on alcohol and drugs. I found that interesting and it made me think: if someone does anything excessively that society looks down upon, is he an addict, or something much simpler... a deviant? A bad seed? Think about it this way...

I had a cousin, whom I will call Tony, who was a straight up thief. As I recall, Tony started getting in trouble early on. His crime of choice: theft - robbing - stealing. And from what I understand, he was pretty good at it, too; it was years before Tony got caught. When he finally did get busted, he was sentenced to life in prison. Can you imagine that? Life imprisonment for stealing!

After ten years of serving his sentence, Tony’s mother spent a thousands of dollars on a lawyer who took his case back in front of a judge for review. While he was guilty of the crimes, it was determined that the sentence was too harsh and Tony was released.

Initially, Tony was on house arrest. He was confined to the house and could only go a few feet into the yard. One of my relatives asked him if he thought he could stay in the house for the required period of time. He said lightheartedly, “After what I’ve been through, I can stay in the bathroom if I have to.” My family and I were satisfied that Tony had learned his lesson and his life of crime was over when we frequently heard him say that he would never go back to jail. That’s why I was shocked and scared when I heard rumors that he was ‘knocking people in the back of their heads and robbing them’. Say it ain’t so!

Months later, I recall being at work when I got a call from my mother. She said she had some bad news; Tony had robbed a bank. “Oh no!” But that wasn’t all. After Tony was cornered by the police, he put a gun to his head and pulled the trigger. (Gasp!) I guess Tony meant what he said… he was never going back to jail.

Consider this: after 1o years of 'rehab', my cousin just couldn’t leave the life of robbery and theft behind. Was he a crime addict? Or was he just a bad seed?

Steve Phillips is admitting himself into rehab because he just couldn’t resist sex with other women, even with all he had to loose. Is he a sex addict? Or just a bad seed?

Steve Phillips is no more an addict than Tony was. Both are bad seeds that good women threw good money (and time) away on.

Ode to Edwin Clifton - A Young Wife Grows Up

Today makes 10 years since I said 'I do' to Edwin Clifton. Ten years! Unfortunately, my husband died 6 years ago. On this day, I can't help but wonder what my life would be like if he was alive. I'm sitting at a high school football game with friends watching their sons race up and down the field. (Actually, they are watching; I'm blogging, hence any errors you may see). I wonder, if 'Pop' were alive, would we be cheering on our own little player or cheerleader at a Little League game. Or would we have our little one at the movie theatre watching 'Where the Wild Things Are' tonight? Would there even be a little one?

Would we be home relaxing or arguing? Would we be making love or in bed with our backs to each other? Would we be celebrating our milestone or cursing the day we met? Would we be in a happy season of our lives or in a challenging one?

Here is the state of Teowonna Clifton today: I have a job that I love, a communications specialist for an insurance company. I have a number of extra-curricular activities and projects that are growing and displaying my best qualities. I produce a radio talk show; I have a blog; I am a newspaper and book editor; I will even launch my own BlogTalkRadio show next year. Not bad, if I say so myself. (As you can see, I don't have a modest bone in my body). Many of these things I know probably would not be a reality if Pop were alive, but I wonder what other wonderful things would be replacing them. A marriage? A husband? Children? A family?

I really wish Pop could see the woman that I am today; the woman that time, maturity and experience has created. The woman who used to rebel against his authority now recognizes the value of a strong man. The woman who saw career as a way to distinguish herself now sees career as a way to advance the family. The woman who felt his words of caution stifled her creativity now craves his guidance. The woman who was too tired at night now longs for his soothing touch. The woman who had the attention of many now would love to only have his. That 26 year-old young wife is now a grown woman.

Time has brought me wisdom that money can not be purchase. Time has shown me there is nothing like a man who is ready to be a husband; a man I can trust and count on; a man who would rather die than lie or cheat. Funny how I didn't recognize what I had until I didn't have it anymore; until I experienced the alternative. My husband was far from perfect, but at least I knew what I had. Nowadays, there are façades of men... few real men actually exist.

My husband was so right about so many things. I regret he is not here to tell him.


Sent via BlackBerry by AT&T

Unspoken Co-conspirators of Unfaithful Men

Today, I’m going to tackle the whole David Letterman thing. I am a Conan fan, so I wasn’t tuned in the night Dave made his announcement. But I did see it on the Today Show the next morning. What an ominous feeling that was for me, hearing yet another man of power and position confess his indiscretions… multiple indiscretions, might I add. Even though I was shocked and disappointed in Dave, I must admit that I was not disappointed in him the same way I was in Governor Mark Sanford, Bill Clinton and other elected officials. While David Letterman has a pubic position, (oops! I meant public) I did not elect him to his position. I hold those I elect to represent me to a higher standard. Forget that ‘he’s just a man’ crap. He [an elected official] is a man that should know and do better.

The moment I heard Dave admit that he’d had several indiscretions with women who work for him, I felt several distinct emotions pouring from me. Perhaps the most significant was the emotion of sorrow… for his wife, Regina Lasko. While Meredith Vieira and everyone else focused on Dave and the jokes he told in attempt to minimize the fiasco, I focused on his wife. How sad, angry, humiliated and betrayed she must have felt… and is still feeling. While all were focused on Dave, my heart went out to his wife.

I know first hand the humiliation Mrs. Letterman felt when she realized that everybody except her knew that her man was cheating on her. It must have felt like a conspiracy among everyone against her. How could they look at her at the Christmas party and smile in her face? Wish her Merry Christmas with a kiss on the cheeks? Hold the mistletoe for her and Dave to kiss underneath when they all knew he was cheating on her. Trust me; it is not a good feeling.

But I’m not going to talk about the betrayal of the men in the affairs. I’m not even going to talk about the other women who enable the men to cheat in the first place. Today, I am talking about the little-acknowledged co-conspirators in extramarital and other elicit affairs… the friends of the victim.

Question: Ladies, if you see your good friend’s man out with another woman, do you tell her? Unfortunately, many of you are going to answer 'no'. But guess what, That Teowonna does not feel that way. That Teowonna tells! You've heard of the 'Don't ask, don't tell' policy, right? I have a strict, 'I'm gonna tell' policy. If fact, you never have to question if I will tell; you only need to wonder how fast I will tell. I might tell today, tomorrow, or the next day… but I will tell. And you better believe it will be sooner rather than later.

I know many of you may say that is none of my business; my friend might get mad at me; she might not want to know; he might just be out with a co-worker; blah blah blah. All that is well and dandy. Valid points. But I am still telling. And here’s why: the moment I keep his confidence, I am conspiring with him against my friend.., and trust me, that's not happening. He is not my friend, she is.

So you say it isn’t any of my business? I beg to differ. Anything that is not in my friend’s best interest and I am aware of it, is my business. Anybody trying to do her harm, is my business. I would feel like a heel if I knew her man was cheating on her and didn’t tell her.

She might get mad, you say? Let her. I don’t care. I am a friend… we get mad from time to time. I will still be her friend when she realizes that I told her because I love her.

She might not want to know, is another popular excuse. Well guess what, whether she wants to know or not, she NEEDS to know and it is my DUTY as a friend to tell her. Anything less are the actions of an enemy, not a friend.

It just might be a co-worker or a friend. Might be. Might not. First of all, I know the difference between a date and two co-workers grabbing a bite to eat. And if you are honest, you do too. If they are just friends, then my girlfriend already knows her, right? If not, she will, because I’m going to tell her. If I misjudge the situation, what’s the big deal if it is innocent? Women know their men. If it is innocent, then it won’t register on her radar… but if dude is already prone to cheat, my warning might just be what she needs to put her antenna up a little higher.

Just so you know, I think my friends have a different theory than I do. I don’t think they would tell me. They used to tell me when something didn’t look too kosher. Now I don't think they would because I might ask the guy about it. You doggone right I am going to ask him. (I really want to say ‘confront him’ but that sounds a little too combative!) I don’t think they liked the fact that I may say "Michelle said..." or "Pam saw..." Well, I can see how they may have a problem with that. But I don’t have a problem if they say “Teowonna saw you.” In fact, I want her to tell him that I said it. Because he needs to know that I ain’t his friend…I am her friend and she is getting her info from a reliable source! The moment I fail to report his dealings, I am acting as a co-conspirator against my friend… and the true-blue friend that I am will not let me do that.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not going to go running, tattling like a little child… “Uhh I’m telling”… “Giiirl guess what I saw.” That's silly and irresponsible. I will find an appropriate way to mention what I saw in a mature respectable manner. After I tell her, I've done my duty as a friend. Now what she does with the information is completely up to her. If she wants to confront him, she can. If she doesn’t, that’s fine with me. If she just wants to keep a closer eye on things… that's ok. If she forgives him, I’m cool with that too. I trust her to make the best decision for her. I’ll standing by her 100 percent either way.

Bringing this full circle back to Mrs. Letterman, I’m certain someone she considered as a friend knew about the affairs and didn’t tell her. In my opinion, that person was not her friend; but indeed her enemy plotting against her.

Note: When writing this, I generalized men as the cheaters and women as the victims. This was done for ease of writing (and because more often than not, this is the case). I know women cheat too. No need to write me a comment making that point. Just so you know, I feel the same level of loyalty to my male friends... I'd tell on a woman just as quickly.

The Woman Speaks of Letting Go

Like Langston Hughes’ The Negro Speaks of Rivers, here is That Teowonna’s The Woman Speaks of Letting Go.

I’m no poet… certainly not one of Langston Hughes’ caliber. But I am a writer… again, not one of Hughes’ immense talent. When I went out to my car today on my lunch break, instead of taking a little siesta (as I’ve been known to do when I don’t sleep well the night before) I used Nino Brown, my beloved Crackberry, (Nino Brown, crack, get it?) to pull up Langston Hughes’ poem, The Negro Speaks of Rivers. I don’t speak of rivers and I can’t pen prose like Langston. But I can speak of letting go.

Funny thing about me is no matter what other projects I have going on (paid or unpaid), everything else takes a distant second to what’s going on in my heart. Cynthia Hardy is waiting for me to send her an outline of this weekend’s radio talk show; I have two book-editing projects waiting to be edited; a newspaper that needs to go to the printer tomorrow before 12. And I am thinking of a Langston Hughes poem. So to get what’s on my heart off, (so I can earn my paycheck and keep Nino Brown from being temporarily disconnected so I won't have to go cold turkey), I decided to speak of my own river; the ever-flowing river of letting go.

Why is it so hard for women to let go? Many of us care very deeply and continue to hold on way after it is clear we should be long gone. My theory is that this is by God's design. The Lord designed us to be more softhearted and more forgiving because men are so heavily flawed. Men have an uncanny knack for screwing up a good thing. As carnal (and stupid) as men can be, relationships and society would be in a far worse state of despair if we women were not as forgiving as we are.

In these days of gross role reversal, women are letting go a lot quicker than they used to. This is not a good thing. How many of our grandmothers got a divorce verses our mothers? How many of our mothers divorced versus us? Women of old, hung in there. Women of new, let go. Again, not a positive trend.

But here is the thing… men are going to do their dirt; there is no getting around that. Some men are a little dirtier than others. Some are just a little dusty while others are down right grimy. But each of us (women) have our own tolerance level. One woman may tolerate a little more than another. We tolerate more from one man than we would another. But one thing every smart woman must learn is when to cut her losses and let go.

In my estimation, women have three basic needs. To be provided for, protected and fulfilled. Men were created to fulfill those needs. It is innate. But when we find ourselves getting less and less of those needs met, it is time to consider letting go. When we don't feel safe, our hearts and spirits are not being fulfilled, and our emotional and physical needs are not being provided, it may be time to step.

But here is the thing… when we finally do decide to ‘roll out’ we often feel compelled to come back in... as if we didn't get enough the first time. That again, I believe is by God’s grand design. We women MUST be forgiving and willing to give it yet another try; that’s the only way mankind will survive with men being as heavily flawed as many of them are.

And men count on that. They count on us to forgive. They count on us to take them back when perhaps we shoudn't... try to make them be ‘the one’ even though it is clear they are not. They count on our soft hearts to let them back into our souls, lives and beds time and time again. And we do.

Until… until all free tokens have been spent… until all get-out-of-jail-free cards have been pulled from the deck. Then and only then, is it really over. The problem is men and women don't always know when the last song has been played. Sometimes it sneaks up on both of us. We’ve forgiven far bigger sins. We’ve let greater transgressions slide. But when ‘it’ happens, it happens. Until then, he can come and go; he can hurt, lie, cheat and steal. But when we finally have our fill, we are full.

Like the negro who knew of rivers, I’ve known of letting go. And by God’s grand design, I’ve known of forgiveness and giving it many more tries. But God’s grand design is for my soft heart to forgive… not to be a fool.

So, this time, the same heart that made me come back time and time again, now says it’s time to let go.