The Wobble must die.

11:43 AM

Dear society, not every social being of color runs to the dance floor to get they Wobble on. (But once again, leave it to Carolina  -- with it's lack of independent thinking -- to keep all the stereotypes alive and well over the weekend.)

Partying with the Ques last weekend was cool though. I was expecting some overgrown, arrogant SOBs to grab my little butt and get me drunk with red Solo cups filled with "some punch". But I was the one they had to watch out for; I had so much fun.

That is, until the DJ played that song. There I stood (and eventually sat) through the line dance, reevaluating my life while the party majority wobbled for their lives:

It's hot as hell in here. Or maybe I'm having flashes. 
Am I getting too old to party? Even if it's an "old school" party?
I'm not tipsy anymore. I knew I've built a tolerance for drinks but...no buzz at all? Really?
I'm glad I'm wearing flat-heeled boots. 
I've come to the end of January and although business picked up in the past two weeks, the month sucked. 

I checked my phone...ah the story about the Houston selfie bride, again. Why are folks so fascinated by crazy? I mean I may keep a Pinterest board of all things wedding, but at least I have the sense to name it "My Bizarre Wedding Obsession". See, I own my crazy.

I just ripped "wedding" off my hard-copy vision board though. Why?

I don't want the perfect wedding. I want a marriage. Ain't nobody my age got no business getting married just to get a divorce. And..it's just not a goal. Getting Single and Happy, the Movie aired on Lifetime before I turn 45? Now that's a goal. So let's stop assuming we sistas just want to Wobble our way down some aisle..

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