Can I Still Be Considered a Hopeless Romantic?

Yawl, I have been busy. Navigating the dating world is hard work. Between being a super sexual woman and a hopeless romantic, the stories and shenanigans have been endless. These past few months to say the least have been very entertaining.

I am a self-declared hopeless romantic, as most of us HR’s are. I love, love. I love the thought of having an adventure partner. Having someone to send nudes and videos to that I can be goofy with as well. I even like the part where we get into an argument and we have some bomb makeup sex. I still believe in courting and holding hands and just being held on those warm summer nights. I still believe in showing someone you appreciate them. All that good stuff.

However, I also believe in being able to sleep with who I want and when I want. If my desires aren’t hurting anyone then I’m going to go about my day and do me. Having a conversation with a few woman in a group I’m in, who are also hopeless romantics and I was told that I couldn’t possibly be a hopeless romantic because I believe hookups/one-night stands, FB/FWB are ok.

Umm yes, I sure do believe they are ok. Would I prefer not to have FB, FWB or hookups or whatever you call them? Of course, but I also know that I enjoy sex. I enjoy the intimacy of it. I enjoy being pleased and pleasing others. I am all for not having sex if that’s not what you want. That is your choice. I took two years off from sex and dating and I believe I’m a better woman for it. It prepared me for this new age talking/dating/hookup life. So, I broke down my current situation to explain that yeah I’m a hopeless romantic but damnit I have needs too!

If you follow my post them you’ve read about Spartacus. He’s still in the picture but a few more players have been added. I swear I feel like my vagina sent out a beacon that I was having sex again once Spartacus and I made some decisions. Like ex’s and old FB came out of no where with the, “Hey where you been?” Then you add the new potentials. Whew!

Being a hopeless romantic I wanted things with Spartacus to be more and I didn’t want to sleep with anyone but him, but we talked and at this point I’m doing me. Its been fun. Like super fun and informative as well.

I literally had someone masturbate while they were talking to me! Umm, yes that happened lol. He asked permission. I didn’t watch because it was kind of weird, but it was kind of a turn on. I really just wanted to see his faces and it’s a kink. I know, I know. Shame me if you must. He’s a cutie but ain’t nothing coming from there.

I’ve been on a few dates, gotten some gifts, my gas tank has been filled and I’ve gotten some free “goodies” over last few months but I have yet to sleep with anyone of them but Spartacus. Ok, if I’m being honest … I haven’t had sex but I have let some of them make me cum. You know, for stress relief and what not. I just don’t see myself sleeping with anyone at this point unless we have a connection.

So, we have Magic Fingers (blessed by the Gods), Young Buck, Oldie but Goodie and Spartacus. There are a few randoms with potential so I’m excited about that. At this point I’m only sleeping with one and taking pleasure from some and entertaining myself with a few others until I find the one. My hookups don’t diminish the fact that I still believe in love or deserve romance.

I explained to them that I had spent so much time trying not to add numbers, getting over my abusive past, being in situationships and what not that at this point I’ve said, “Enough.” I just want to do what makes me happy. I want to enjoy spending time with who I want and how I want. Of course, I still want that fairytale happy ending and to be able to be someone’s support and reason to be better. I want to spoil someone’s son and be spoiled. I want consistent dick that comes with good conversation and some ugly laughs. None of that has changed. The only thing that has changed is my outlook. I used to think just like them. If that’s your mindset, then there is nothing wrong with that. It is, what it is.

But if being a hopeless romantic means being sad and putting my life on pause because I don’t have my prince charming, then I think I’m no longer a HR. Maybe I’m a modern-day HR. I honestly have no clue what category I fit into and I don’t care. Once you’ve reached the point in your life where being happy is all that matters, labels, negative people, mindsets, judgements and fears tend to just fade away.

So by all means strip me of that title. I’m still going to believe in love. I’m still going to want it and appreciate it when it comes. Long story short, the discussion ended with my vulgar ass comment of, “Girl bye. I’m still going to believe in love all while I’m still having sex and spending time with whomever I want. I’ma fuck‘em AND feed’em if I want too. You might need to get your back blown out to fix your attitude. “





Who Am I?

It was Valentine’s Day of 2005. My sister and I sat in a cold white room plastered with Planned Parenthood posters, brochures about having a healthy vagina and birth control options. The irony right? Too late for your brochure.

We were two recently orphaned teens still dealing with the deaths of there parents and here I was waiting for some pee on a stick to tell me the direction of my future. I was either going to be a mom or I wasn’t. The nurse who looked almost as nervous as me glanced at the clock one last time before checking my results.

I honestly don’t know who started crying first but we were both in tears. I was 17. My sister was 18. We had lost our Mom in 2003 and our Dad 2004 and here we were getting hit with another big bomb not even a year after our father passed. I was knocked up after my first little poke and we both knew I had already decided to be a mom.

Nine months and 14 hours of labor later, I welcomed my beautiful unicorn baby into the world. And just like that my whole world changed. The title I’m most proud to have was added to the list of who I was.

Over the years, between losing my parents, becoming a mom, an abusive relationship and shedding some of my religious beliefs, I lost who I was. I knew what my titles were. I was a mom, a daughter, a sister, a cousin, a friend and every other title that had been assigned to me. I love being a mom. It’s a huge part of who I am. It’s one of best parts of who I am but who was the woman behind that amazing title. I can say, at the point in time I truly didn’t know.

So two years ago, I decided it was time to rediscover who I was. Side note; I actually wrote my first blog then as well. Anyway, I wanted to be more than just my titles. I wanted to be able to describe myself without just being  limited to my labels. I wanted to rediscover who I was as a woman. As Crystal Hood Middle Name Jackson.

I started my spiritual journey and I found myself opening up to new things. I shed friends and gained friends as I went along my journey. I gained a new perspective on life. I stopped hiding who I was and spoke my mind. I found the spark that had been stomped out after years of verbal and emotional abuse. Man, I was loving me and more importantly I was starting to live again.

Here I am two years in and I’m still discovering new things about me. But yawl, I’m like super happy! I’m able to be more open. I’m able to really appreciate who I am as a woman and in doing that I’m a better mom.

So for this Mothers Day, I wanted to give myself a gift. A little ego boost. I wanted to know if those closest to me had noticed who I was a woman. I wanted to know if my hard work had been paying off. I still have things I need to work on. I’m not completely open with Spartacus about who I am. I still have a hard time letting people in sometimes. I still occasionally even apologize for being who I am even though I love me.

Anyway, they came through in a big way. I swear I love my circle. They didn’t give me titles. They described me as they see me. Who I am to them and man, yawl, my mushy ass was all in my feelings. Sometimes as woman we forget to appreciate the woman behind all the titles. That awesome woman who earned the title Mom.

So this Mother’s Day I challenge you to enjoy the woman that everyone else gets too. Bask in the awesomeness that is you. Remember the woman who had the strength to make it through hours of labor. Cry tears of joy because you created an artist no matter how ugly those first few pictures they give you are. Enjoy every moment as they celebrate the kick ass woman they call mom.

And if you don’t remember who that woman is … I want you to find her. I want you to see you for the beautiful being that you are. I want you to know you’re more than just the titles placed on you. I want you to enjoy and love everything about you. It’s a journey but honey you’re so worth it!

I’m an asshole and a sweetheart. I’m super loyal and once you have my trust you’ll have it forever. I’m confident but there are times when I still hear Voldemort in my head. There are times when I still feel I have to prove my worth to some people. I love to entertain. Let me cook for you and mix you a good drink while I host a game night. It brings me joy. I like small intimate settings. I am strong and decisive. I’ve learned to trust my intuition and have no issue telling you to suck my balls if need be. I enjoy a good laugh, the darker the better. I have a song for everything. I’m a day dreamer and hopeless romantic. I love deeply and that makes me a little cautious. I’m a little aggressive and over protective when it comes to those I love. I don’t like to see others in pain and I’m passionate about being a black woman. I enjoy politics. I hate small talk and prefer silence to it. I am a walking, talking contradiction and I love it.

I messaged a few from my main circle because I wanted to see if my view matched their view of me. I have to say they were pretty spot on. They were asked to describe me and/or my personality. Take a look.

Guy BF: “Very open minded … easy to get along with … no holds barred.”

My Sister: ” Loving, supportive, nurturing, hardworking, over protective, creative, obsessive, secretive, semi-present/ selectively attentive, bold, brash yet apologetic, confident yet apologetic, self doubting, validation seeking.”

Friend: “Outgoing and eccentric. Fearless and open to trying it all. Optimistic and daring. You’re someone who pays attention to detail and focuses on the good energy from the situation.”

Cousin:” For real I have a lot of words … giving, honest, crazy … fun loving, all over the place in a good way lol,  caring, sassy and classy, a firecracker, a ride or die but definitely a nut case.”

BF: “Ok so you are a gust of fresh warm spring air! You’re caring and compassionate and understanding to the deepest level! You’re ALWAYS THERE for those you love and you will go crazy for them if you need be! But mostly you’re just a beautiful soul in this reality for a minute and you know it. You carry yourself like a queen and you wouldn’t expect anything less than the best to come out of it. You’re driven and smart enough to actualize your dreams.  I’m just scratching the surface tho. You are a secret weapon, good judge of character and an amazing warrior mom!”

Yawl see the bestie came through with the book though!!!!! Yassss hunni! LOL!

Enjoy your Mother’s Day! The woman you are is being honored and should live in that moment.


Sprung but Not Stupid

I close my eyes, as wave after wave of pleasure choruses through my body. His moans mixing with mine. I can feel him swelling inside of me. He’s hitting every spot and I’m taking this pussy pounding like a champ. The sweat, the moans, the smell has me going insane. I’m close and he can tell. He pins my arms down as he dives deeper into my scared space.

“Harder,” I moan. I can feel his balls slapping against me. My breathing increases and my body begins to respond in only a way it knows how.

His moans are a little more deeper now. I can always tell when he’s about to cum. His stroke is faster and it’s a mix of pleasure and pain. I can feel myself climaxing. My eyes are tearing up and I am trying hard to remember to not tense up so that I can enjoy a full body orgasm.

I can feel him pull out of me but she’s still pulsing. The sound of my orgasm lingering in my ears. The warm liquid running down my thighs. The wetness that seems to surround me, reminds me that he is my Spartan among men.

I lay there, smiling at him. His dreads sprawled out on my pillow. He pulls me close and kisses me forehead. Sealing the deal that I’m sprung and I’m not checking for anyone else.

“Hey cuteness.”

I love when he calls me that but I would never tell him. This Spartan man knows he’s fine and his dick game is fire. He’s no Mr. Big but he’s aiming to take his spot. I don’t want him to leave. I want to stay in this moment with him but I’m snatched back to reality.

Spartacus comes to see me when he can. I wish I could see him more but what can you do when you live in separate states and you both work full time jobs. I’m happy I got this whole weekend though. I get up and cover myself with my robe. I have to shower. Remove the smell of sex and lust from my skin.

His phone is chiming like crazy. He’s always messaging someone. I know as soon as I get in the shower he’s going to message who ever that was that was blowing up his phone. Should I care? No. Do I care? Fuck yes.

I don’t want to share him with these basic bitches. Spartacus is like no man I’ve ever encountered. He makes me want to be better. He makes me want to match his confidence. Not just for him but for me. He makes me appreciate my flaws. He doesn’t care if I’m having a bad hair day or if my face isn’t beat by the Gods. He just enjoys being with me.

We have not titles. No direction. No future plans. We’re both kind of just living in the now. Him more so than me. I want him. I know that for a fact. I want to cook him breakfast in the morning and suck his dick before he goes to sleep at night. I want to lay in bed with him on a Sunday and binge on shows that we’re too emotionally invested in.

I’m taken away from my thoughts as he smacks my ass on his way to the couch. I give him a playful grin and head into the bathroom.

I have no clue what this is or will be but I like it. The cards say he’s my karmic which I can believe because he caused me to revisit and fix my issues that came from Lord Voldemort. For that, I will always appreciate him. But I also know what I want out of this and my best friends no cut cards, “ Don’t let this nigga make your body his vacation spot,” echoes through my head.

“I’m no vacation spot.” I look in the mirror and smile because yeah I’m sprung but I’m not stupid.


Getting to Know You … Again

So guys I told you I was going to take you on my journey as I find myself and determine what really makes me happy. Below are some questions that I created and found to help me on the first part of my journey. These questions are a fun way to remind yourself of just who you are and what you might and might not like.  I like to think that we as woman are always evolving. Our titles change. Our roles in life change. We are constantly in motion and sometimes it can be easy to forget what really makes us who we are and what makes us happy. Answer the questions honestly and I know you’ll find some value in this activity.

The answers to these questions may require you to go back and add something’s to your goal list (If you made one). If you have a problem telling people “No”, add it to your goal list. You have every right to tell someone when something isn’t going to work for you and … they have every right to tell you no as well. Telling someone “no” doesn’t make you a bad person. It means you’re taking care of yourself first and that’s how it really should be.

If you go from 0 to 100, add that to your list. Look into ways to calm yourself down before you answer. James 1:19-20 says, “My dear brothers and sisters, take note of this: Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry, 20 because human anger does not produce the righteousness that God desires.

Stop and think about your response before you say anything. Maybe you weren’t listening because you were already formulating your answer. Relax, breath and learn to take a joke. I myself have to take that advice sometimes.

If you don’t feel accomplished in life, in love, in parenting or whatever, then start taking the steps to do what makes you happy. You now know what you’re passionate about. You know what your ideal weekend looks like. You’ve reminded yourself of what truly makes you happy. So why not be happy?

Set the goals and start making yourself a priority.

  1. What’s your favorite color?
  2. What’s your favorite food?
  3. What’s your quirkiest habit?
  4. Are you an introvert or extrovert? What does that mean to you?
  5. What was the best phase in your life?
  6. What was the worst phase?
  7. What makes you feel accomplished?
  8. How do you handle stress?
  9. Are you quick or slow to anger? Why?
  10. Are you confrontational?
  11. Do you judge a book by its cover?
  12. What’s the ideal weekend for you?
  13. What makes you who you are?
  14. What are you most thankful for?
  15. Do you believe in second changes?
  16. What’s the one thing that people misunderstand about you?
  17. What is the craziest thing you’ve ever done?
  18. What do you think about when you’re by yourself?
  19. What’s your biggest regret in life?
  20. What is the most valuable lesson you’ve learned in life?
  21. What defines you?
  22. Do you face challenges with a positive or negative attitude?
  23. Is it hard for you to be honest with people? Why?
  24. Is it hard for you to say no to people? Why?
  25. When do you feel “fake”
  26. What’s your favorite physical attribute?
  27. Do you put a lot of thought into how people view you?
  28. Where do you find your strength?
  29. How do you feel about love?
  30. List 10 things that you’re passionate about.


Journey To Me

I sat there looking at another email from my boss about why I hadn’t done something that I was told not to do. This can’t be life! Right? I couldn’t possibly be getting reprimanded for doing the right thing. Holy Christmas Turkey (I’m trying to stop cussing. You’re welcome) this day was starting off great. Did my job properly and then asked why I did my job properly. Yup. This is life.

A few weeks ago, I decided I needed to rediscover or maybe just discover who I am. My name is Crystal Jackson. That I knew for sure. My parents named me Crystal, through some ratchet in for the middle name and hit me with the best last name possible. I LOVED being a Jackson. My parents were proud but humble people and the name Jackson carried a lot of love and responsibility. My sister and I were the Jackson sisters. Jsis, as we dubbed ourselves after our parents died.

But let me not get ahead of myself. I guess you need a little back story about who I am. Now, let’s be very clear. I’m not going to tell you all my business. Nope, not going to happen but I will let you in on some of my good, bad and not so sweet pass and my hopes and dreams for the future.  I figured if I’m going to try and find myself I might as well write it all down. Writing has always been a love of mine. It was really the only way I could deal after my parents died.

Discovering one’s self comes with being honest with yourself about some things you may have never really wanted to confront. It means owning your mistakes and all the bad that has happened to you. It means appreciating the good and the bad because they help shape who you are. I have a hard time being honest with myself sometimes. I want to be able to accept my insecurities and overcome them to be the best woman and mother I can be.

I remember one particular event that helped shape a little insecurity I still struggle with. I can’t remember exactly what grade but it was the end of the school trip I believe and we all went skating. My long time crush was there and I think more so out of not wanting to come off as a jerk he said yes that he would skate with me. I probably would have been better off with him saying no.  Seriously, I would have been a lot better. Anyway, with butterflies dancing in my belly and a big stupid grin, I remember skating around the roller rink with him. Trying to make small talk and seem cool. Did I mention every girl in the school had a crush on him?

I’m on cloud nine. I’m smiling like I won the lottery. Then, BOOM. Thunder crackles and my happy cloud is now a rain cloud showering embarrassment down on my self-esteem and social life.

“He said you have man hands.” Now I had never really thought about how my hands felt but I’m guessing even then they were rough since he decided to announce the fact that I didn’t have the softest hands. Yup, just like that everything changed. I still hate shaking people’s hands because my hands are not exactly the softest. A fact that I wasn’t aware of until that day. Thank you Mr. Popularity.


Today is day four in my journey. I’ve decided to fast for 40 days so that I not only cleanse my body but my mind and spirit as well. So no meat (chicken and beef) for 40 days.  I‘ve set goals in regards to my physical, spiritual, financial/career, family and friend relationships. I know where I am now and where I would like to be. I’ve complained about all of them at some point but never really set out and stuck to a plan to make any huge changes. I am not a consistent person. It’s something that I’ve discovered about myself and plan to work on.

I’m excited to see where this leads me. As I detail my journey, some days you’ll get a blog and diary entries other days. It’s going to be a raw and emotional journey because I’ve never really explored who I am. I can list a bunch of nouns to tell you who I am. I’m a mom, sister, daughter, cousin and so on. I can list some adjectives that I think describe me like we all do when asked who we are.  But at the core of my being and soul, I want to know exactly who I am and what my purpose is. I’ve created a Journey to me Challenge List, some questionnaires and daily goals that I can’t wait to share with you. Day four is almost done and I’m feeling optimistic.



America says I am Black, African-American or Other

America’s history says I am a slave, a Nigger, property and less than human

America’s present says I am a thug, unpatriotic and still unequal


I do not get to choose the days I am Black

I do not get to choose my potential

It’s already been decided for me

I cannot turn my blackness off, despite what some may think


I am black from the top of my head to the soles of my feet

The beautiful melanin that caresses me

The rhythm that flows naturally through me

The fullness of my lips to the kinky curls that adorn my head; make me aware


The same blackness that I love

Is the same blackness they hate

The strength I admire in my people

Is the same strength that they hate

It’s a curse and a blessing to be created this way


But when my blackness rises up

When my blackness takes me beyond the potential granted

When my blackness refuses to conform

When my blackness screams, ENOUGH!

When my blackness demands the world sees me

My blackness becomes my fate 



Cheering at A Lynching

I was so proud to see Brandon Marshall take a knee last night. It made me smile to know that more athletes were standing with Colin. It made me proud to see another black man who can affect change do something about it. Even with that, I felt scared. Just like with Colin, I prayed because I knew the wrath of America was coming for this man and he would have to be strong to stand by his decision.

His decision to not only be a football player, but to be recognized as a black man in America, changed his life. He went from a football player to a thug and a nigger in a split second. The tweets belittling this man started rolling in before the Star Spangled Banner was even over. His character and worthiness was called in to question. His Team issued a statement. The fans booed him. The world now had another target. They had another black man to disregard as a human and chastise as if he were a child.

Then something else happened. Brandon was injured and Americans showed me once again why this movement is so important. My heart ached. I was angry and disgusted. Tweets upon tweets. Facebook statuses and Instagram post cheering his injury. Some hoping that it ended his career. Some making jokes that he deserved it and Karma works quick. Others hoping he was injured on purpose.


I made one tweet. “Americans cheering the injury of Brandon Marshall is like cheering at a lynching.”

It said everything I was feeling. How could America be so blind? This is the exact reason why he took a knee. This is the exact reason the three West Virginia Tech volley ball players took a knee. This is why Megan Rapinoe took a knee. If black people or people of color decide to be anything other than what Americans have decided we should be, we’re stripped of our character. We are reduced to thugs and niggers and unpatriotic, ungrateful objects that should be shipped back to Africa or wherever we came from.

It was easier to cheer for someone being strung up, beaten, mauled by dogs and spit on if they were reduced to being less than human. If they were viewed as property. It was easier to watch if their character and dignity were stripped from them. It was easier to ignore the smell of burning flesh if no one else seemed bothered by it. It was easier to mutilate the body of a child if everyone was cheering you on.

Last night Americans cheered each other on as they tried to destroy Brandon Marshall’s character so that they could rest easy knowing they had wished harm and hate on a man who did nothing but take a stand for something he believed in. Reducing him to a nigger and a thug made it easy for them to say the things they said.

A white man can call out the government and disagree with how things in this country are being handled and still be seen as patriotic. He can still be seen as a “Great American”. His character is not called into question. That is a dangerous double standard in America for people of color who wish to have a voice. It places a target on our backs. We become the targets of those who still have a slave masters mentality. We become the victims of those who long for the Jim Crow era.

 America, you’re still cheering at lynching’s, but are still lost on why Black Americans are still treated as less than equal.