Dear Denzel:

Baby, I’ve been in love with you since the first time that I saw you. Smooth. Black. Attainable. I named you Denzel, and I immediately took you home with me. And, you know what? Things have been good. Over the past two years, we’ve had a great run. So, I can’t understand why you want to quit me.

Yeah, I see the signs. When I came home to you the other night, opened you up, and prepared to run my fingertips all over your sexy little keys (…I know you love it when I do that …), I could sense that something was wrong. I tried to turn you on. But, you didn’t want to hear it. You just threw a black screen of death at me and shouted: “Media test failure, check cable!” Baby, that hurt my feelings. But, then you made things even worse. You actually tried to pull the plug on our relationship by saying even more hurtful things like, “No operating system found.”

Motherfucker, I don’t know who you think I am, but I am *NOT* the kind of woman who lets her laptop get away from her that easily. I am going to fight for this relationship. I *need* this relationship. I have places to go, people to email, articles to write. In fact, for a few days now … and, I really hate to admit this because I don’t want to sound needy but … I’ve needed a man so much that I’ve been borrowing other people’s men. I can’t help it. I can’t stop my life just because you don’t want to act right, fool.

But, I’m not going to let you go that easily. I can only limp along with other people’s men for so long. I need my own man. So, baby, I’ve enrolled us in couples therapy. Yes, you heard me. I CALLED OUR THERAPIST (the computer help line) ON YOUR ASS. Apparently, it might be possible to save this relationship after all. The therapist suggested that I buy a few “toys” to sex things up a little bit. She says this might convince you to come back to me. In fact, this weekend, I’m going to shop around for some of that sexy lingerie you like so much. Circuit City has this line of toys called “new hard drives”. Baby, I’m gonna bring one home to you. And, I sincerely hope that this will make you decide to cooperate with me because you *know* that I can’t afford to buy a new man right now. So, please, baby. I’m begging you. Come back to mama. I promise. Things will be different this time.

My fingertips await you,

funkybrownchick

“Any pointers for single women in NYC?” Time Out New York asks a 26 year-old UES-dweller interviewed for their article on the lives of single women. Her answer? “God help you.” Attack of the Single Women. That’s the cover story of the newest issue of Time Out New York. It hits newsstands, mailboxes and bookshelves today. Or, or course, you could just read the article online. “Why,” you might ask, “are single women in NYC getting so much attention?” Well, that’s because we’re fucking hot. That’s why. Kidding aside, here’s the real reason … A couple of months ago, National Geographic culled together U.S. Census data to publish statistics — together with an extremely impressive singles map — that details the single female-to-male ratio in various American cities. The results show that 185,000 more women than men live in New York. As a result, single chicas on the prowl for dates have to battle even more competition. Yep, we’re screwed. Thanks. Actually, anyone who lives in NYC already knew that. But, I guess it doesn’t hurt to have a bit of scientific data to back us up.

Leaping from the pages of one magazine to another, the National Geographic piece inspired Time Out New York to conduct an in-depth explanation of NYC’s bumper crop of women. It’s a great article. At the same time, I kind of get the impression that TONY was surprised to discover that most of the women that they interviewed were [and I quote], “remarkably okay with being single.” Interesting choice of words. It’s hard to imagine reading the same sentence about married men and women: “The people we talked to were remarkably okay with being married.”After all, don’t we all know as many unhappy married people as we do unhappy single people?

Hmm … All this talk about relationship status has me wondering what your status is. Feast or famine: what’s the story of your love life right now? Are you currently feasting on several different partners? Are you starving for dates? Are you comfortably settled in a longterm relationship? Have you been gnawing on the same meal for quite a while now? Does every day feel like desserts? Feel free to use the comment section to tell me if you’re single, married, dating or other.

Technorati Tags: dating, funky brown chick, funkybrownchick, relationships, sex, single life, single men, single women, singles, Time Out New York

As I mentioned previously, I experience shortness of breath when I do moderate exercise and physical activity. (For example, briskly walking up a single flight of stairs while talking makes me winded.) So, yesterday, I saw my doctor for a follow-up test and results. I have good news, and I have bad news. Ironically, it’s the same news.

I don’t have asthma.

When it comes to breathing, the lungs and the heart work together as a team. So, since my lungs appear to be fine, the next test is on my heart. I’ll have an echocardiogram at the hospital on the afternoon of July 10. Less than 2 weeks away. I’m trying not to stress. It’s nothing to worry about, right? Best-case scenario? My heart is fine, and I’m just wired such that physical activity winds me. Everyone’s different. I might have a body that just doesn’t like to breathe as much as it should. Worst-case scenario? Um, I don’t know. It could be anything. It could be nothing. I have a family history of heart valve problems. So, I could have a bicuspid aortic valve. Or, again, I could have no problems with my heart at all.

The only thing that’s certain is this: any worrying that I do between now and July 10th won’t change the results of the test on July 10th. So, to the best of my ability, I’ll just continue to do what I normally do. I’ll work. I’ll write about my life & my dates in New York. I’ll spend time with my friends. I’ll go jogging in Central Park. I’ll flirt with boys. Life will go on. And, as usual, I’ll definitely keep you posted. “Think of it this way,” says my friend Bro, “everybody’s gotta die. If you’re dying, it only means you’re just like the rest of us. Don’t go around thinking you’re special just because you can’t breathe!!” Bro makes my laugh. And, sometimes, for matters of the heart, that’s the best medicine there is.

I’m young. I’m 5′7″. And, I weigh 129 pounds. I don’t smoke. I eat nutritious foods. And, my exercise routine includes a 2-3 mile run in the park every other day. I’m healthy. So, why can’t I breathe?

I can’t completely catch my breath if I talk while I walk up a flight of stairs. And, although I love extreme cardio-exercise like kickboxing and running, I have to take constant breaks to get my breathing back to normal. Running late for the subway in the morning? Forget about it. I don’t eat breakfast until I get to work. So, on more than one occasion, when my empty stomach and I have tried to run the subway stairs to catch the train, I’ve had to double over and put my head between my knees just to stop myself from fainting.

I can’t ever seem to get enough air.

So, when I went to see my doctor for a routine physical a week ago, I brought all of this to her attention. I told her that I think I should be able to be physically active without getting as winded as I do. She didn’t seem worried. “You have a healthy lifestyle,” she said. She continued with the routine physical by checking my weight and blood pressure. However, just to double-check that everything was okay, she listened to my heart and lungs again. She also had me breathe into a little spirometry machine. “What’s the reading?” she asked. I looked at the gadget, and I read the reading. She double-checked the machine. Apparently, my lung capacity is about 20% below the absolute bare minimum for someone my age and height. So, something’s wrong. But, what exactly is it? I may find out today when I have my follow-up doctor’s appointment and more tests. Best-case scenario? It’s asthma. Worst-case scenario? It’s the congenital heart problem that’s common in my family. I await the test (and the subsequent results) with bated breath. Literally.

Welcome to FUNKYBROWNCHICK.com — where the “M” in Monday stands for M-A-N. If you’ve been here before, you know that we talk about men’s lifestyle, trends in man grooming, uncircumcised penises, and a host of other testosterone-driven topics on Manly Mondays. Sometimes, like today, I like to do a little “mini-tribute” to a particular man. Today, I thought we’d honor a deliciously beautiful brown man from the east side of the Atlantic Ocean. Please say hello to England’s very own, Lewis Hamilton.

He’s gorgeous, isn’t he? I love men, in general. But, I *especially* love looking at this one. But, don’t be deceived. Lewis Hamilton isn’t all beauty and no brawn. An auto racing / motorsport genius, he’s burning up the tracks in Formula 1. You can Google him to learn more about the amazing career that this 22-year English rookie has already established …. or, of course, you can do what I do … just sit in from of your computer screen and stare at his beautiful image.

Last night, my friend Anna-Scarlet called me to tell me she just got dumped via a text message that simply said: “I’m leaving for good on Friday. It was nice knowing you.” I’m writing at Nerve today; head over there if you want to hear the details of her story.

Technorati Tags: dating, dating blog, funky brown chick, funkybrownchick, relationships, sex

Ironically, I recently had a conversation about exes with a friend and her then-boyfriend (now exboyfriend).

Me: I not close friend with any of my exes.
Friend’s boy: Really?
Me: Nope. There are friends. And, there are exes. If exes were supposed to be friends, we wouldn’t need the word “ex” in the vocabulary now would we?
Friend’s boy: So, no “x” in friend, huh?
Me: Exactly. That’s what I’m saying. No “I” in team, no “X” in friend.

Anyway, so, the topic of exes entered a conversation with a different friend last night. I thought I’d already written a post about my strict to the “once you’re out of my vagina, you’re also out of my life” policy. But, I think the post may have gotten eaten during the migration from my old blogger account. At any rate, if you’re interested, I’ve shared my thoughts about exes over at Nerve.

Okay, okay, I admit it. It’s not a date movie. And, there isn’t really a way to make Michael Moore’s new documentary about the US healthcare system, SiCKO, sexy. But, I don’t care; I’m gonna recommend it anyway. The film opens today in New York City. Lucky residents of the following cities can catch a one day only sneak preview on Saturday: Albuquerque, Albany, Atlanta, Austin, Cleveland, Columbus, Baltimore, Boston, Chicago, Dallas, Denver, Detroit, Flint, Houston, Indianapolis, Kansas City, Las Vegas, Minneapolis - St. Paul, Miami, Milwaukee, Philadelphia, Pittsburgh, Portland, Phoenix, Sacramento, San Diego, San Francisco, Seattle, St. Louis, Tampa - St. Pete, Tacoma and Washington D.C. The official full release date for the rest of the US and Canada is June 29. Check the film’s website for international release dates and other details.