Episode 1:  Yes, my name is Campbell, and I'm MM MM GOOD!

Hey all, what's going on?  This is Campbell coming at you!  I had nothing better to do but to write out my life because for real, it's crazier than anything you're going to find on TV or cable.  You know, when you first meet someone, you have to worry about those DATING questions, like how old are you, what do you like to do, what's your best quality, blah blah blah?

Well, I'm not even gonna wait until you ask, here's the low down:

My name is Campbell Lisa Brown, and I'm a 27-year-old sister chilling in Baltimore, Maryland.  I'm a full-figure sister, but I'm cute…something that always seems to be ignored…b/c I'm not a Lil Kim prototype, but I digress.  I'm a pseudo-slacker, wannabe writer, sometimey dreamer, lost sister, who has been racking up degrees with the thought they would make me something.  Guess what?  I have two degrees, and I'm still living with my mom and siblings and acting a fool whenever I get the chance.  Sad huh?  My girls tell me I suffer from a social anxiety disorder.  Why?  'Cause I don't like going to clubs to meet men.  I mean, really, who does that?  You put on your flyest bottle caps and dental floss to shake your ass in front of men who don't CARE if you have a winning personality or wit or intelligence…they care about the ass that's barely being covered.  Unh unh, ain't my cup of tea.  Give a sister a nice quiet place, a computer, a pad and pen, and my music, and I will be OKAY, ya heard?

It's August, and it's hotter than Hell in the summertime, and that's a damn shame.  I dream of Alaska, but I would settle for Fall to come quickly.  Despite my many flaws (you'll soon learn about them), I have deemed this MY YEAR, and so far, it's been my year.  I came into FAITH and into the reality that I'm a bad ass writer, and somebody will want to publish me...and give me money for my work.  I've been seriously holding onto this dream since last October when me and my girl September began the magazine NUBIANICS online.  I can actually remember the exact DATE my dream became steadfast.  It was October 12, 1999 .  How do I know?  That's also the day my boyfriend left me…because he was tiring of me.  I noticed my fortunes and failures all coincide with relationship issues…that's why I opt to not even bother with them.  After that last joke of a relationship, I told myself, " Campbell, sistergirl, fuck men and get on with you.  Publish your book, make your money, and do for you…forget them!"

And for real, 3/4 of the year is gone, and I hadn't THOUGHT about a man.  A sister been on the road of success, and my tenacity actually lit a fire to my girl, September, who had been toying with an idea for a novel.  But, like she said, "Writing is my life…but it's not my whole life.  You need to find yourself a man…get that groove back."

Little does she know a sister never HAD a groove to begin with.  In my life, I've had less than a handful of relationships, and honestly, only two of those were relationships, and out of those two, none were really relationships (understand my logic - lol).  So basically, I've never really dated, haven't had a real boyfriend, and now, I'm just like FED UP.  I'm tired of trying, and I'm tired of giving…to only be taken from and get nothing in return. 

September doesn't understand me.  But then, I rarely understand her.  She's married, but miserable, and I have wished on a million stars for her to leave her husband and get HER groove back…but she got kids, so she hopes to live vicariously through my sex life.  Needless to say, I haven't quenched NEITHER of our thirsts yet…and it's been almost a year.

Will I die dry…like the Mojave Desert ?  Will I ever allow myself to be with a man…a MAN, not someone with the AGE of a man, but someone who is a man in his actions and beliefs…in what he says and does, in how he makes me feel?  I don't know…and even though I would never tell September or my other girls this, I do want to find that someone.  Just not sure I have the faith in myself…or men yet to worry about it.

You know that euphoric, out of this world feeling you get when something you have always wished for becomes a reality?  That's how I'm feeling now.  I had been sitting on my computer for hours, since 7am, writing some fresh pages for a new novel idea I had, when I heard that familiar CLUMP of mail falling through the mail slot.  For the last two months, I have been anxiously awaiting some news from my agent, telling me whether some houses were interesting in my work.  The editors told her to give them about 6 to 8 weeks though it might be sooner.  Yeah, that was 8 weeks and a day ago, and I had fought the urge of calling my agent every five seconds asking, "Did one call yet?"

Getting up from my desk, I tug on my soccer shorts and in a dead march, make it to the front door.  There's a pile of envelopes on the floor, and I'm praying, DEAR LORD, please let it be that my agent forgot my number and sent me a letter telling me someone wants my 'script.  But you knew that wouldn't be the case.  Phone bill, cable bill, electric bill, library bill, Essence magazine, Honey Magazine, Ebony magazine, I drop all the mail and trod back to my room.

The phone rings, and I answer it without looking at the Caller ID.  "Hello," I say with now enthusiasm.

"Are you sitting down, Miss Campbell?"

It's my agent, and from then on, I barely hear anything she says.  There's something about three offers, might be an auction for the book, chick lit is hot, AA mystery chick lit even hotter.  I hear numbers of the deal figures.

"Oh shit," I mumble into the phone.  My hands are shaking.  "I'm sorry, Grace, but oh freaking shit!"

She laughs at me.  My mind is whizzing by, faster than racecars at the Indy track, but I manage to listen to the rest of Grace's spiel.  She'll call me back sometime day or tomorrow.  Things are getting spicy.

"You better finish up book two," she says before hanging up.  "I know you pull one of the characters from the first to lead that one.  I could show a chapter or two to the editors, get them even hungrier."

"Consider three chapters in your e-mail within the hour."

When Grace hangs up, I immediately dial a number.

"Yes, may I speak to Brenda Brown ?" I ask, crying.  "Hey Pam , yeah, I'm okay…I am, don't scare her, just let her know I'm on the phone."

I pace in my room, glancing at my computer screen, praising the words that are there, the words that allowed me to write, "Love Letters" and submit it.  And now, after a folder full of rejections, I was going to get my chance to shine for a while.

"Girl, Pam said you were crying," my mom said into the phone, the hum of machines behind her.  She works at a factory, and the machines, which normally irritate me with their loudness could be a symphony for all I care.

"Mom…"

" Campbell …."

I take a deep breath, and say, "Mom…"

"No," my mom cries out.

"Just got the call from Grace."

You see, my mom has been waiting for The Call more than I have.  Every day, she comes home and asks, "Any good e-mail…mail...call?" hoping that I got the CALL, the LETTER from someone…because she always said, "My baby Campbell can write her ass off!"

"Hey y'all," my mom yells into the factory, "my baby gonna be a published author."  I hear a roar of yells and hallelujahs and congratulations pour into my ear, and I think, I am the luckiest person in the world to have people love me like this.

My mom tells me she won't be able to finish working…she's too excited, she's crying…and I know what she means because I'm still crying, and all I can think about doing is finding someone to share this news with.  PANG.  For eleven months, I have been cool not having a man in my life, and this is the first time that I've felt a pang of regret…for not having one to share this with…to get that manly hug, a kiss of congrats, and a deep-voiced, "I love you."

Okay, a dash of my glory has been wiped away, but I’m going to get it back…just gotta call my girl.

"Holy shit!"

"I know, I damn near fainted when I heard!"

"We have to fucking celebrate…..go out…dance our asses off, drink til we pass out, and fulfill all our sexual needs and desires!"

September is elaborate..the girl is a drama all by herself.  She wrote, directed and starred in the September story, and she's up for an Oscar …the girl is good, okay?  She beat me with THE CALL by a month, receiving a call from her agent, telling her that a major publishing house offered her mad loot for her "from ghetto to glory" fictional story.  

"Why must everything revolve around sex, Sept?" I ask, sighing into the phone.  "I mean dang, you know I ain't about all that."

"Campy, you haven't been about it for almost a year.  Don't you miss how it feels to have a man make love to you?"

"Hmm, actually, unfortunately, no.  Now if I had it good, I might be able to say different."

"Girl," September laughs, "stop joking…the last negro you had…you SAID turned you out."

"Okay, let's do the math…white guy, virgin, who the hell knows."  Those are the names of the men I give in my life.  What was I supposed to tell her, I wish I was still a virgin at 27?  I wish I had stuck with my hopes of being a virgin til I got married…that I hadn't wasted my virtue and body on males who didn't deserve me?  September would kick my ass…a virgin?  To her, they didn't exist.

"I got the perfect guy for you," is all she says.  I could feel her big bright smile on the other end of the phone.  I roll my eyes.

"September…"

" Campbell …just listen.  It's my cousin's best friend, Ray ."

I laugh.

"What's so funny?"

"Every time I see the name Ray in a movie or story, he's up to no good."

"Naw, not this one.  He's best friends with my cousin, Jake .  Girl, he is so cute, and he works for T. Rowe downtown."

"Sept, I haven't been out in almost a year…you can't just push me into the far end, I need to wade out."

"Girl, jump in the goddamn water and go."

ANOTHER CAMPBELL TIDBIT:  For the most part, I'm a punk, plain and simple.  I get this from my mother, who her brother affectionately calls, "Persian Rug" because she let's everybody walk all over her.  I barely know the word NO…that's why after trying to plead my case, I agree to go out with Ray …tomorrow night.  Tonight is about celebrating, quietly, with my family.

Now, September told me she showed Ray pictures of me, so at least he knows what I look like and won't be like DAYUM when he sees me.  I'm conservative tonight, choosing to don a black/crimson wrap skirt that hangs at my ankles, and a red silk, long sleeved top.  It's cooler in the evening, so I won't sweat bullets in this.  THEY say to accentuate your positives, and point blank, even though it is a big girl cliché, I have a beautiful face, big clear brown eyes; long, sweeping lashes; cute nose; full lips; and a smile that shows off my cheeks and dimples.  I let my hair run free down my back, in thick, soft waves as I apply the lipstick and eyeliner.  I'm looking in the mirror, and I see my face..and think, Wow, I'm really pretty.  Sometimes, I stun myself…others, repulse, but I'm not on my way to a psychiatrist's couch.  I'm going on a date.  YIPPEE, said the sarcastic sister.

I decide to drive to the restaurant and meet Ray there.  Not sure I want him to know where I live and besides, just because he's September's cousin's best friend, doesn't mean he won't be a loser.  I just hope I didn't give up my 11-month celibacy/non-dating track record for a loser.

Hello, I think, could someone please hand me the letter 'l'?  Preferably a CAPITAL 'L'?  Okay, let me backtrack, brother was fine, but then, September told me he was fine.  I arrived at the restaurant, and lo and behold, no one by the name of Ray Philips is there yet.  Okay, I think, I am a couple minutes early.  The waiter directs me to my seat where I am handed a menu before he walks over to retrieve my glass of white wine.

Five minutes into my drinking, out of the corner of my eye, I spot the most inspirational hunk of man that has ever graced the planet.  I mean he's chiseled, as if sculpted by the most wondrous sculptor, and my mouth literally drops.  I see the cut piece of chocolate saunter up to the entrance of the restaurant to speak to the hostess, who points him over to me, before leading him over.  He's smiling, good sign.  He has all his teeth, even better sign.

I love teeth…I love smiles.  A man can sucker me in with a pretty smile and dimples just about any day of the week.  That's probably why, up until now, I have chosen to not LOOK at men…they have a way of getting to you.

Ray reaches the table, and I stand, smiling, raising my hand to meet him.

"Hi, you must be Ray ," I said in my most sultry voice.  He disregards my hand before slipping his arms around me and pulling me in for what felt like an intimate hug.  I heard a groan, albeit soft one, escape from his lips before he dropped a kiss on my forehead and waited til I was seated to do the same.  He ordered a white wine before turning his attention to me.

"September told me you were beautiful, but she didn't tell me you were exquisitely so."  He smiles.  I blush, but only because his line is too whacked for me to do anything else.  At least he's trying, I say to myself.

"Thank you," I respond, raising my right hand to catch a few loose stands of hair.  Replacing my hand with his, Ray slips my strands back behind my ear.

"So, shall we eat, get to know each other better?" he asks, continuing to smile at me, to soak me into his beauty.  Sighing, I nod, a smile creeping along the corners of my mouth.  "Sounds good," I say.

He tells me to order anything on the menu, and he does the same, ordering lobster.  I choose a seafood platter, wanting a lil taste of everything.  I watch him…as he chews his food, and recall the 'getting to know you' conversation that began as we waited for the dinner to arrive.  Ray isn't like all the other RAYS I have had the esteemed pleasure to meet.  At least this is what he tells me.

"I dabble in architecture," he says, smiling.

"Dabble?"

"Well, I have my bachelors in urban planning and my masters in architecture.  You know the new rec center that's been built downtown?"

"Sure do."

"I designed it."  Wow, I'm impressed, really.  A gorgeous, intelligent brother, who is smiling at me, and making me feel like he really cares what I think.  Could this be the end to my tumultuous yet slim string of men?

"So you one of those, moving on up brothers, huh?" I ask, smiling at him.  "That's really wonderful, Ray .  You should be proud of yourself."

"I am…it's been hard, working and schooling so much.  Like I was telling Jake , I feel like I'm ready to meet that one wonderful sister who can add to me, and create that marriage union, you know?"

I nod, stunned.  No man has ever brought up the marriage thang on his own, out of the blue, on the first date.  A softer woman would have fallen by now, but I held my guns.  "So, what's your type of woman, Ray ?  Who would be that one wonderful sister?"

"Someone with a sense of humor, who can be sweet and attentive to my needs, but also be able to express her own needs, so that I can attend do her."  (Go 'head boy!)  "Someone with a smile I can spend all my days gazing at, with intelligence, integrity, compassion…and someone who's soft in all the right places."  I can feel his eyes raking slowly from the top of my head, over my face, and down my breasts, only stopping due to the obstruction by the table.  He looks hungry, and not for food.

I take a sip from my wine, needing to eradicate the dryness that has enveloped in my mouth.  This brother is tickling my brain with his frankness, and by the time our dinner is served, I'm actually thinking about a second date, or if he will kiss me tonight.  I'm thinking I hope he does.

"Would you two be having coffee, perhaps a dessert?"  Ray looks at the waiter and then at me, awaiting my decision.  "Oh no," I answer, "couldn't eat another bite, but dinner was delicious."  The waiter nods before saying, "We do our best.  I'll bring your check directly."

With a brief smile, the waiter disappears to the back of the restaurant.  Wiping the corners of my mouth, I glance over at Ray who looks to have an absent expression on his face.

"Something wrong, Ray ?" I ask.  He shakes his head no before reaching in his back pocket to pull out his wallet.  What a gentleman, I think, he's paying the bill.  He's definitely getting a kiss tonight.

"Oh no," he whispers, flipping through his wallet. 

"What's wrong?" I ask, knowing the answer, but wanting the drama to play itself out.

"I can't believe I left my credit card home."

"How did you manage that?"

"Well, used it today, but didn't put it back in my wallet…I think I left it right on my dresser in the bedroom."

"OH." I nodded, taking a final sip of my wine.  "Do you have cash?"

"No, (of course he doesn't) I was robbed last month while leaving one of my sites, and ever since then I've tried to carry little to no money on me."

"I see."

With his soft, sexy eyes, he looks at me, and asks, "Could you…would you mind, picking up this tab, Baby?  I promise I will reimburse you tomorrow AND take you out again."

With all the sweet and low I can muster, I smile at him and reach out to pat his hands.

"No problem," I answer, reaching into my purse to pull out my Visa.  "Let me first take a trip to the ladies' room.  I think the wine has gotten to me."

He smiles and nods, helping me out of my chair.  With a parting glance at his seated backside, I walk toward the ladies' room, but instead of entering, I exit from the restaurant, fuming.  "Bastard thinks I don't know what a platinum card looks like?" I seethe.

Brothers should know when they are playing the "oh I left my money…credit cards home" game, that they should not even GIVE a sister more than one second to glance at a wallet.  We can tell how many cards and what kind of cards he has just by the look of the wallet.  This one went one step further into stupidity by opening his wallet in front of me.  I saw the platinum, and I saw the green.  I guess he assumed his good looks would have a sister like me begging to pay for his freaking lobster.

"His ass can wash out pans tonight for his meal," I sigh, "and I have to see September.  She needs a smack upside the head for not investigating this brother more."  I shake my head before walking to my car…no second date and no kiss in sight.   At least my consecutive celibate streak is still intact.

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