I Found The Light at the End of My Tunnel

by D.S. White

It was March of 2002. Single once more, I chanced upon an article in Ebony about two couples, one newlywed and the other newly engaged. Nothing remarkable about that I’m sure, except for the fact that the couples “met�online. You can do that? Was my immediate thought, followed by much deliberation (about ten seconds) and a mad dash for the computer in my home office. I logged onto one of the referenced sites and had a hallmark moment while perusing profiles of God’s greatest creation (mankind).

I set up a profile entering required statistics for myself; Christian (nondenominational), female, divorced, 37, 5’ 7â€?, 175 lbs, voluptuous, auburn tinted locks, athletic, some college, self-employed, 25K – 50K, type of relationship – MARRIAGE. Next came the statistics desired of my “perfect” match; Christian (Baptist, Methodist, nondenominational) MALE, single, never married or divorced, 35-39, 5’ 10â€?+, 165-225 lbs, thin, athletic or muscular, high school diploma+, a JOB, salary unimportant, type of relationship–MARRIAGE. Finally, the uploading of my photo and I was off!

Running a search yielded a list of matches with a suitability rating of 50% -100% in descending order. Excited at the ease of the process, I waded through the list, choosing profiles of prospects eliciting the most goose pimples and made printouts (yes I did). Buoyed by all the targeted possibilities, I enthusiastically and politely responded to all emails, categorizing them as yay, nay or you must be kidding! Woman of God or not, I was still keeping it real.

In the next few months I learned all about Instant Messengers and chat room speak. I also learned the wisdom of using *70 to block my number before using any phone numbers volunteered and met several prospects in person. Would that I could unequivocally state that everyone I met had nefarious intentions, needed kissing to become a prince or was calorically challenged (overweight). But, in the midst of all the “pretenders� I met a few really gorgeous, straightforward, doing-the-right-thing men.

Nevertheless, there was no connection, something was not quite right. Maybe I was too impatient or picky? I knew that technology is not an exact science and made allowances for that, but even so, it seemed that the majority of candidates I met failed to match their profiles and/or photos. High five anyone?

If you spend any time in the online dating arena, it reminds you that if it seems too good to be true–it probably is. What do I mean by that? It seems that some of our brothers (and sisters) have become quite creative in their definition of “putting your best face forward.”

We have tricks like overexposed shots in which the profile owner appears several shades lighter and the response to your comment upon meeting, (in March mind you). “Oh this? It’s leftover from my summer tan.”

Next we have the pilfering of photos of professional but relatively unknown models. The photos are either copied from modeling websites or scanned from a magazine and uploaded to their profile. Unless a poorly cut picture is scanned, you have no way of catching the deception–until the meeting–if it materializes.

Last but not least, my personal favorite. After the third time running across the same photo on three different profiles, you realize that it’s not triplets–it’s piracy. The tip-off in this case is the irate response of the actual photo owner, lambasting and/or ridiculing the thieves from his page.
Why the misrepresentation? Wanted for questioning? Witness protection program? Unless you’re a genius assuming an identity to right a wrong, why not choose to be the best you possible? If your photos are eight years old, warn somebody. If you have put on a few pounds, say so. Missing teeth, sparse hair, bitten nails, colored contacts, manual wheelchair, welfare bound, seven kids, live with your parents, just be you. There is no one like you!

Copyright (c) 2004 by D.S. White, All Rights Reserved.

You know how sometimes you ask a question that you think is just out of the blue and the answer you receive speaks to something inside of you?

Well the following lyrics was the response I received to asking “What Song Are You Feeling?” to a friend.

It was exactly what I needed to hear.

Moral of the story? You have not, because you ask not. Ask what’s on your mind today.

Peace,
Dee

YOUR WILL – Words and Music by Darius Brooks

Scriptural References: (Psalm 119:10, Deut. 31:6,8 and 33:27A, Hebrews 13:5-6, Luke 12:34, Phil.2:13)

Lyrics:

I wish I could tell You just what I want,
And You’d give it to me just like that.
The truth of the matter. What I want just might hurt me.
And You won’t let me go out like that.
You know my end before my beginning.
Calculated blessings down to the penny.

Chorus:

So I’ll cry ’til You tell me let it go let it be.
Cause oh Lord, Your will is what’s best for me

No rubies, and no Diamonds,
no silver or no pearls.
There are some lessons
that I had to learn.
That I would not trade in for this world.
You told me that trials, Only come to make me strong.
And with this You promised,
You promised never to leave me alone.

Chorus

So I’ll cry ’til You tell me let it go let it be.
Cause oh Lord, Your will is what’s best for me

Bridge:
Lead vocal (Darius): Oh, Your word is true … .(Choir: Your word is true.)
Lead: And it will last…(And it will last)
Lead: You will guide the future…(You will guide the future.)

Lead: Just as You have the past..(As You have the past)
Lead: My Lordy, One of these old days,
I’m gonna have just what I want,
‘Cause I’m gonna trust You every step of the way.
And You’re gonna lead me all the way home.

Chorus

So I’ll cry ’til You tell me let it go let it be.
Cause oh Lord, Your will is what’s best for me

Bridge: Your word is true And it will last. You will guide the future as You have the past.

There were times that I could not see, But I know that I know that I know it’s so. You love me more, You love me more, Than I’ll ever know. Chorus.

I had an interesting dream/experience around 6:30 a.m. this morning. For the past 3 weeks, I’ve been on a hellacious round of sleeplessness, but aside from a little dizziness, slight grumpiness and a spurious appetite, I’ve been handling it pretty well.

I dropped my sister at the bus station to catch the 4:50 a.m. bus to Port Authority. I got back to the house around 5:05 a.m., and unlike a sane person who would go back to sleep for an hour and a half, I decided to check my emails and update my website.

I kept looking at the clock, purposely placed in my line of vision on the wall beside my bed, and said to myself “At 5:30 I’ll go take a nap. Then, ok, it’s 6 now, I still have thirty minutes I can work with.”

Needless to say by 6:28 my eyelids were drooping and of course, it’s time to get up, not sleep. But I’m stuck on stupid, so I drift over to my bed, set the alarm for 7:10 and collapse on top of my comforter. I dozed off immediately. It might have been five or ten minutes later, when the dream began. It proceeded through weird twists and turns then ended. (Thought I was gonna tell ya all about it…didn’t ya?…lol. Well if you request it nicely offline…I just might share) .

But you know how those dreams that feel real but not really real, stay with you for awhile? Well this one was no different. So I’m driving to work, analyzing madly and looking for hidden messages.

I get to work, park the van, turn up the windows, get my bag and get out of the van. Seems like something’s missing? You got that right. Sistah gurl, got out of the van, left it running and shut all the doors tightly. Unable to believe her stupidity…she walks around to the other side of the van to peer in the window, just to confirm the fact that the keys were actually dangling in the ignition. Yup, there they are.

It’s already 8:10 a.m and I’m supposed to be at work for 8, so the splendid histrionics I felt bubbling up inside me, had to be put on hold for decisive quick action. Hoping that someone else had maybe done the same thing before, I emailed and called Office facilities to

(Where am I going with this? Addressing the question that we’ve more fear of cops than confidence. When did it become that way and how can/will we correct it?)