

I've always been an overachiever in life, excelling in whatever it was I poured myself into. When it came to my love life, it was no different.
Or so I thought.
I had this notion that if I followed all the steps and did everything right on my end that everything would fall into place. Little did I know, that's not exactly how life goes, especially regarding love.
Love is patient, love is kind, but what happens when you aren't?
What happens when you choose to jump ahead of Cupid, and he uses you for target practice instead of his primary target?
I'll tell you what happens; you end up settling.
I was nineteen years old in a relationship with a man ten years my senior.
I know what you are thinking and looking back on it, you're right. But things happened, and here I am. We started off as friends, and it evolved into something more.
I was a freshman in college and had little experience in the dating world outside of high school puppy love. He pulled out all the stops in the romance department and not having experienced anything else I was impressed. I remember him continuously saying to me that he was a rare find and no other man would treat me as good as he did. Being young and naive in all departments of life, especially love, I believed him.
However, in accepting what I was fed, I never once felt that spark, that blissful feeling of happily ever after; you know like you see in the movies. I brushed it off and labeled it as a phase and told myself, "This is as good as its probably going to get for you."
My second year of college, I got pregnant. I'll admit that I wasn't too thrilled because it wasn't a part of my plan.
The kids weren't supposed to come until two years after I'd graduated, but he treated it as if he was checking something off of his list of shit to do before reaching thirty. My parents were divorced, and his had been married for thirty plus years. In his head, it was what was supposed to happen at the right time for him and that was his primary concern. Upon us telling friends that we were expecting, it was mentioned that we should get married. He was on board; I was hesitant.
I knew I wanted to get married, but even after all this time dating this man, I never once saw myself growing old with him. We talked about it more, and he sensed my hesitation in not wanting to do it. He then started to remind me repeatedly that he was a rare find and no other man was going to treat me the way he did. He even took it a step further and told me how lucky I was that a man like him wanted to marry me and this is what was best for our child.
I agreed and stood before a judge in the courthouse of my hometown and married the man who didn't make me happy.
One year later, I began to change. Every day, I was going through the motions to just get through the twenty-four hours. I wasn't happy and felt undone in many areas of my life. I came home to a man who complained about me not generating income and suggested that I get a job. I didn't know how I was supposed to balance a job going to school full-time, maintain a 3.0, and take care of a baby who was only in daycare for my school hours. His nagging went on for a while so I had to quit school to get a full-time job in hopes that if I made him happy, I'd be satisfied.
The problem with that theory is I didn't know at the time that I was responsible for my happiness.
It wasn't until we moved to Florida for his job that everything started to sink in. I found myself depressed and married to a man who didn't notice anything outside of his own needs. I didn't want him to touch me at all, so when we had sex, it was out of obligation and not passion. Every day became harder and harder to cope with life.
I was miserable.
I would go to the bathroom and shut the door for my daily crying session. One day, that was interrupted by my two-year-old son who had walked in. I didn't notice him at first until his tiny frame pressed against me and held my face so he could wipe away the tears. In that moment, I found a piece of myself that wanted better for the eyes staring back at me.
When my husband got home that night, I told him I was leaving. He wanted to know why and I told him everything I'd been feeling and have felt for the past couple of years. He seemed confused and began to regurgitate that same manipulative phrase over and over again. When he realized it no longer worked, he grew angry, then he spouted off hateful words about how ungrateful and undeserving I was to have a man like him. He was right; I didn't deserve a man like him, I deserved better.
I deserved a man that I loved, and he wasn't it.
I made the ten-hour drive back to my home state with my son in tow and never looked back. I remember pulling into my mother's driveway and having the feeling of relief wash over me. After that, I struggled with forgiving myself for being that naive nineteen-year-old girl who was falling for any and everything because she didn't know who she was. It became a burden, and I lived my life for a while full of regret and what-ifs. It wasn't until my mother and I had a very real conversation about my choices, she told me to stop feeling sorry for myself, and that the lessons from my choices help shape the person she knows is deep down inside. I asked her if she knew that he wasn't the one for me. She said "yes" and then told me, "As a parent, you allow your children to make their own mistakes and figure it out."
That's what I did.
I figured my life out. I immersed myself in my faith and found God in the dark places of my mind that I thought I'd never escape. It was then I discovered that I wasn't prepared to fall in love with anyone because I hadn't yet fallen in love with myself. That was the very reason why I'd always sold myself short on what I deserved. If I wanted to get anywhere in life, I had to change this.
I started by looking in the mirror every morning and telling the reflection that was looking back at me that I am proud of the woman she is and who she is becoming.
I told her that she was beautiful, kind, smart, and worthy of a fairytale love.
Telling myself those things was the easy part, believing them was hard. I kept at the routine until I started to believe everything I was saying. In that belief, I found my worth, which changed how I viewed love. I now view love as sacrifice. You have to be willing to sacrifice for the other person. At this point in my life, I'm only willing to do that for my son, so I've chosen to take a break from dating for now and focus on my passion, which is writing. I want to show my son that no matter what you go through in life you can always change it and find a way to follow your dreams.
However, while I'm on my break from the dating world, I'm still navigating through exactly what I want in a potential partner. While doing this, I've decided to remain celibate because I value my body now more than ever. Whenever I decide to jump back into the dating game, I want to be prepared and know that I am now dating with a purpose. That purpose is to find someone who I'll be willing to sacrifice for and receive the same in return. I'm taking my time and observing my mistakes because although they don't haunt me anymore, I'm still working on forgiving myself for making them.
In the meantime, I'll be living a life of fulfillment and passion.
I'm going back to school in the spring to study my craft. I will continue to work on myself because I now understand that it is okay to be a work in progress and a masterpiece. I had to learn how to love myself, and know my worth before I can expect someone else to. In determining my value, I move differently in life, especially regarding love.
Settling doesn't live here anymore.
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Adrian Marcel On Purpose, Sacrifice, And The 'Signs Of Life'
In this week's episode of xoMAN, host Kiara Walker talked with R&B artist Adrian Marcel, who opened up, full of heart and authenticity, about his personal evolution. He discussed his days transitioning from a young Bay Area singer on the come-up to becoming a grounded husband and father of four.
With honesty and introspection, Marcel reflected on how life, love, and loss have shaped the man he is today.
On ‘Life’s Subtle Signals’
Much of the conversation centered around purpose, sacrifice, and listening to life’s subtle signals. “I think that you really have to pay attention to the signs of life,” Marcel said. “Because as much as we need to make money, we are not necessarily on this Earth for that sole purpose, you know what I mean?” While he acknowledged his ambitions, adding, “that is not me saying at all I’m not trying to ball out,” he emphasized that fulfillment goes deeper.
“We are here to be happy. We are here [to] fulfill a purpose that we are put on here for.”
On Passion vs. Survival
Adrian spoke candidly about the tension between passion and survival, describing how hardship can sometimes point us away from misaligned paths. “If you find it’s constantly hurting you… that’s telling you something. That’s telling you that you’re going outside of your purpose.”
Marcel’s path hasn’t been without detours. A promising athlete in his youth, he recalled, “Early on in my career, I was still doing sports… I was good… I had a scholarship.” An injury changed everything. “My femur broke. Hence why I always say, you know, I’m gonna keep you hip like a femur.” After the injury, he pivoted to explore other careers, including teaching and corporate jobs.
“It just did not get me—even with any success that happened in anything—those times, back then, I was so unhappy. And you know, to a different degree. Like not just like, ‘I really want to be a singer so that’s why I’m unhappy.’ Nah, it was like, it was not fulfilling me in any form or fashion.”
On Connection Between Pursuing Music & Fatherhood
He recalled performing old-school songs at age 12 to impress girls, then his father challenged him: “You can lie to these girls all you want, but you're really just lying to yourself. You ain't growing.” That push led him to the piano—and eventually, to his truth. “Music is my love,” Marcel affirmed. “I wouldn’t be a happy husband if I was here trying to do anything else just to appease her [his wife].”
Want more real talk from xoMAN? Catch the full audio episodes every Tuesday on Spotify and Apple Podcasts, and don’t miss the full video drops every Wednesday on YouTube. Hit follow, subscribe, and stay tapped in.
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Sometimes I get asked the same question, often enough, that I’m like, “It’s time to address this on a larger platform,” — and for, whatever the reason, as of late, folks have been asking me what different sex acts mean.
No, not from the perspective of positions or techniques. What they’ve basically wanted to know is if making love, having sex, and f-cking are simply different words to describe the same thing or if there truly is something deeper with each one.
Let me start this off by saying that of course, to a certain extent, the answer is subjective because it’s mostly opinion-rather-than-fact driven. However, I personally think that sex is hella impactful, which is why I hope that my personal breakdown will at least cause you to want to think about what you do, who you do it with, and why, more than you may have in the past.
Because although, at the end of the day, the physical aspects of making love, having sex, and f-cking are very similar, you’d be amazed by how drastically different they are in other ways…at the very same time.
Making Love
Back when I wrote my first book, I wasn’t even 30 at the time and still, one of the things that I said in it is, I pretty much can’t stand the term “make love.” Way back then, I stated that sex between two people who truly love each other and are committed for the long haul, when it comes to what they do in the bedroom, it’s so much more about CELEBRATING love than MAKING it. To make means “to produce” or “to bring into existence;” to celebrate means “to commemorate,” “to perform” or “to have or participate in a party, drinking spree, or uninhibited good time.”
The act of sex, standing alone? It can’t make love happen and honestly, believing otherwise is how a lot of people find themselves getting…got.
What do I mean? Tell me how in the world, you meet a guy, talk to him for a few weeks, don’t even know his middle name or where he was born and yet somehow, you choose to call the first time you have sex with him (under those conditions) “making love.” You don’t love him. You don’t know him well enough to love him. He doesn’t love you either (for the same reason). And yet you’re making love? How sway? Oh, but let that sex be bomb and those oxytocin highs might have you tempted to think that’s what’s happening — and that is emotionally dangerous. And yes, I mean, literally.
If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a thousand times before, that one of the reasons why I like that the Bible defines sex between a husband and his wife is by using the word “know” (Genesis 4:1) is because, well, I think that is what celebrating love is all about — we know each other well enough to know that we love each other, we know each other well enough to know that we aren’t going anywhere, and that knowing is what makes us want to celebrate that union by getting as close to one another and bringing as much physical pleasure to each other as we possibly can…as often as absolutely possible.
To me, that is what the peak of physical intimacy is all about — and the people who choose to use the term “make love,” it should be seen through this type of lens. When this type of mental and emotional bond comes together via each other’s bodies, they are amplifying love, enjoying love, embracing love.
Making it, though? Chile, the love has already been made. Sex is just the icing on the cake.
Having Sex
A few nights ago, I found myself rewatching this movie called Four of Hearts (which you can currently view on yep, you guessed it: Tubi). It’s about two married couples — one that is in an open marriage and another that isn’t although they somehow thought that sharing a night with the other couple would be a good idea (chile). Anyway, as one of the partners found themselves getting low-key sprung, the one they fell for said in one of the scenes, “It wasn’t a connection. It was just sex.” JUST. SEX.
Listen, when you decide to let a man put an entire part of his body inside of you at the risk of potentially getting an STI/STD or pregnant (because no form of birth control is 100 percent except for abstinence), it can never be “just sex” (somebody really needed to hear that too). At the same time, though, I got the character’s point because, if one or both people do not love each other or even deeply care for one another and/or sex is treated as an activity more than an act to establish a worthwhile connection and/or you and the person you are sleeping with have not really discussed what you are expecting from sex besides the act itself — you’re definitely not making/celebrating love.
Not by a long shot. What can make things get a bit complicated, though, is you’re doing the same act that “love makers” do without the same mental and emotional ties…or (sometimes) expectations.
You know, back when I decided to put all of my business out there via the piece “14 Lessons I've Learned From 14 Sex Partners,” now more than ever, I am quite clear that most of those guys fell into the “having sex” category. I wasn’t in the type of relationship with them where “making love” even made sense; however, because I was friends with most of them, we weren’t exactly f-cking (which I will get to in just a moment) either. We had a connection of some sort for the bedroom yet not enough to be together in the other rooms of the house.
We were really attracted and curious, so we decided to act on that. Oftentimes, the sex was good and so we rationalized that “having sex” was enough because if the friendship was, eh, “sound enough”, that we could justify the physical pleasure.
And y’all, that’s kind of what having sex is — it’s the limbo (or purgatory, depending on your situation) between making love and f-cking. The thing about limbo ish is it’s a lot like something being lukewarm: it’s not really one thing or another which means that it can completely blindside you, if you’re not careful (and totally honest with yourself as well as your partner(s)).
So, if you are contemplating having sex, I really — REALLY — recommend that you figure out how you feel, what you want (outside of the act itself) and if you are prepared for what “not quites” can bring. My mother used to say that the consequences of sex don’t change just because the circumstances do — and there is some solid “wow” to that, if you really stop to think about it.
And finally, f-ck. Although most experts on the word (and yes, there are some) agree that its origin is rooted somewhere within the German language (although some say that it might’ve come from Middle English words like fyke or fike which mean “to move about restlessly” or the Norwegian word fukka which means “to copulate”), you might have also heard that it is an acronym that once stood for “Fornication Under Consent of the King”; and there is actually some data that is connected to that as well.
Legend has it that way back in the day, in order to keep reproduction rates where a particular king wanted them to be, he would instruct his residents to have sex with each other — whether they were married or not (hence, the word “fornication” being in the acronym). However, because sex outside of marriage was taken far more seriously at the time, residents had to apply for a permit to participate so that the king could determine if things like their occupation and lineage would prove to be beneficial for the kingdom overall. F-ck: no love; just necessity. And although some believe this to be more myth than fact, what is certain is it was only over time that f-ck was seen as a profane/swear/cuss word — a word that was perceived to be so offensive, in fact, that between the years 1795-1965, it didn’t even appear in dictionaries.
Personally, when I think of this four-letter word, the first thing that actually comes to my mind is animals. Take a dog being in heat, for instance. That’s basically when a female dog is ovulating and wants to have sex the most. It’s not because they are “in love” with another dog; they are simply doing what instinctively comes to them — and since animals do not reason or feel at the same capacity that humans do, although they science says that many of them do experience pleasure when they engage in their version of sexual activity, it’s not nearly as layered or even profound as what we experience.
Let’s keep going. Another reason why f-cking makes me think of animals is due to the doggy style position. Hear me out. Ain’t it wild how, most of us pretty much know that the term comes from how dogs have sex, even though most animals have sex that same way — and think about it: Doggy style doesn’t consist of making eye contact or kissing while having intercourse. It’s “hitting from behind” without much emotional energy or effort at all. Just how animals do it. And so, yeah, f-cking does seem to be more about pure animal — or in our case, mammal — instinct. I don’t need to feel anything for someone, so long as the sexual desire is there. Hmph.
Something else that I find to be interesting about f-cking is how dictionaries choose to define it. Many of them are going to provide you with two definitions: “to have sexual intercourse with” and “to treat unfairly or harshly (usually followed by over)” and that definitely makes me think of another term — casual sex and words that define casual like apathetic, careless and without serious or definite intention. So, the dictionary says that while f-cking is about having sexual intercourse — just like making love and having sex is — it goes a step further and says that it can include being treated unfairly or harshly.
And although that can make you think of assault on the surface, for sure — sometimes being treated unfairly or harshly is simply feeling like someone had sex AT you and not really WITH you; instinct (i.e., getting off) and that’s about it. Yeah, the way this puzzle is coming together, f-cking seems to be more about lust and self and not much else.
Now That You Know the Difference, What to Keep in Mind
Y’all, this is definitely the kind of topic that I could expound on until each and every cow comes home. That said, here’s hoping that I provided enough perspective on each act to close this out by encouraging you to keep the following three things to keep in mind:
1. Before you engage in copulation, be honest with yourself about what you’re ACTUALLY doing — and that your partner agrees with you. You know, they say that our brain is our biggest sex organ and honestly, breaking down the differences between making love, having sex and f-cking helps to prove that fact. I say that because, although the sex act itself is pretty much the same across the board, you and your partner’s mindset can make the experience completely different. That said, if you think that you are making love and they think y’all are just having sex — stuff can get pretty dicey. Bottom line: communicate in the bedroom before attempting to connect outside of it. It’s always worth it when you do.
2. Yes, you can feel one way and do something else. I can just about guess what some of y’all are on: Shellie, we can love our partner and still just want to f-ck. If what you are saying is you can emotionally love someone and physically lust them and want to act sometimes on the lust without really factoring in the love — yes, I agree. Doggy style continues to be a favorite sex position for people, in general, and I’m more than confident that many of the participants polled are in a serious relationship. However, having lust-filled sex with someone who you know loves you is vastly different than doing it with someone who you have no clue what they think about you or you barely know at all. Y’all, please just make sure that you know…what you should know. Sex is too amazing to have a lot of regret after it.
3. Have realistic expectations about sex. Listen, so much of my life consists of writing and talking about sex that I will be the first one to say that it deserves a ton of props for what it is able to do, in a wonderful way, for people mentally, emotionally and physically. Yet again, I’m not a fan of “make love” because something that feels really good doesn’t always mean that it is good for you. Meaning, you’ve got to be real about what sex with someone will do to your mind and spirit — not just what it will do for your body. An author by the name of Gabriel García Márquez once said, “Sex is the consolation you have when you can't have love.” For no one, should this be a constant norm. Feel me? I hope you do.
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One act. Three very different experiences.
It’s kind of wild that sex has the ability to create that — and yet, clearly, it does.
Please just make sure that you know which experience you’re signing up for.
So that you’re having sex (you know, in general) instead of sex having you. Real talk.
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