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During my 30th year of life, my parents asked me the question of all questions:  "Are you a Lesbian?" 

You see, in Portland, Oregon where my liberal parents live, and where I grew up -- being single, childless and 30 can mean only a few things -- one of which is (apparently) Lesbian-ism.  "Its okay if you are," they told me with love.  "You should just...you know...start thinking about adoption."  My parents are awesome :-) 

After assuring them that I’m not a Lesbian (and thanking them for being so open-minded), I reminded them of the bigger picture:  I’m a single and fierce modern-day woman, living the fabulous life in Los Angeles and been doing so successfully for the past thirteen years.

I find myself in the similar position as many of my female music-industry colleagues:  I’m well educated, talented, successful, and even kinda cute -- but still without husband, child, or many good potential candidates to procure either.  I’ve dated them all:  Executives, Bankers, Athletes, Models, Musicians, Creatives, and even Regular-Job Have'ers.  None of them have worked out thus far.  I charge it to The Game, and instead of fixating on what I don't have, I celebrate what I do have: a fantastic job, great friends, and a beautiful, beautiful life. 

This year, as I turn 31, I’m reflecting on what has been the undisputed greatest year ever.  I’ve traveled the world, met incredible people, advanced my career, and voted for a Black president. 
Life is so good!  I’m confident that my Mr. Right (or Mr. Right Now) is absolutely out there, and am not stressing about when he'll show up. 

"If you ever change your mind Sweetheart, and if you want to be a Lesbian -- we just want you to know that it’s okay, and we still love you no matter what," my parents told me. 

"Thanks Guys," I responded.  It's good to have options :-)

Kelly: The Concept Car

"You're out of my league," he told me, very point-blank and without apology.

I thought that he was giving me a sorry one-liner -- an excuse as to why he didn't want to try anymore. I angrily let him walk out of my life and didn't ask him to rethink his decision.

That was a year ago, and I had forgotten that he'd said it, since I never believed that he'd meant it in the first place. And then, this past weekend, a conversation between myself and an older, wiser male friend, to whom I've looked up to and relied on as counsel for years.

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Kelly: The Recycler

Some things just aren't recyclable.

Growing up in the environmentally friendly and lush green Pacific Northwest, I was taught not to be wasteful. I turn the water off when I brush my teeth, and I separate my papers from my plastics. I unplug the electronics in my home that are not being used, and short of driving a SmartCar -- I consider myself pretty daggone considerate of the earth.

If only I was as considerate of my own love life.

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Kelly: The Cougar

Don't let this young-looking face fool you. I am a grown-ass woman.

I'm not the 24 years old that people like to tell me I look (as a compliment?). I am not fresh out of college or new to the workforce. I am not young, dumb or as-yet untainted by the perils of dating. Nope, I'm none of that. As my favorite recording artist Jay-Z once so eloquently put it, I'm "30+." Yep. I'm that.

Being "30+" qualifies a woman to be several things. I choose to take ownership of being fabulously well put-together, learned of life, and very, very comfortable in my own skin. In addition to these things, there is also something else I qualify to be--though somewhat by default.

I am, by nature of my age, qualified to be (wait for it...): a Cougar.

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Kelly: "The Un-Date"

At a very young age, Alice in Wonderland taught me that sometimes the "un" things (eg: "un-birthdays") bear equal relevance to what is actual.

I was reminded of this last week as I processed what I thought was an "un-date." You know what an un-date is -- an outing with a member of the opposite sex that does not count in the "date" column for any number of reasons. It could be that you're just friends, or that you're not romantically interested in the person, or that it was work-related, or amongst a group of people...things of that nature.

Mine was an un-date for almost all of those reasons, in addition to the fact that my un-date companion was a man of short stature (see my previous post "Requirements").

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Kelly: Requirements

Remember that list of "requirements" you used to (or might still) have for a potential mate? Mine was long and thorough. He couldn't have children, he couldn't have ever been married, he had to be tall, he had to be devastatingly handsome, he had to have some type of fancy education and an advanced degree.

As I've grown older, things have definitely changed.

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Kelly: "Blame it on the _______"

The new Jamie Foxx record "Blame it on the Alcohol" is in heavy-rotation on Los Angeles radio, and its lyrics got me to thinking: Over the course of my love life, what can I blame my broken hearts on?

At age seventeen, my love interest was the captain of my high school's basketball team. His name was Deon, and we spent hours and hours on the telephone developing our puppy love. When a tall and beautiful cheerleader with a reputation for giving up the goods decided that Deon was the one worth her time and attention, there was little I could do to keep his teenage hormones from making a sharp left turn in her direction.

I was crushed, and left without a prom date just weeks before the big day.

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Kelly: "Ciao, Bella!"

Trying to finding the time for love.

Tonight, at dinner amongst the girls at a romantic little cafe in Bologna, Italy the topic of love made its way to the table. Over a bottle of brilliant red wine and decadent food, together we wondered: When a new-millennium girl keeps an international schedule of fabulousity, does she have time for love?

And, at what cost?

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Kelly: My Funny Valentines

For many years of my life, I had the perfect Valentine.

My Valentine was consistent, dependable, lovable and he knew how to make a girl feel special. He was my awesome dad, and he always left me and my sisters sweet treats and love notes on the kitchen table for us to discover when we woke up. He'd already have been long gone off to work, but his thoughtfulness made his girls feel loved and appreciated.

The second half of my life? Not as many cute stories to tell. However, in hindsight, they do provide some good laughs

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Kelly: When Work Trumps Love


Nothing helps a grueling work schedule feel worth it, better than a fantastic vacation in your sights.

As the New Year got under way and my work began demanding 20 hour, 36 hour, and 42 hour days, I looked forward to a quick getaway to Mexico with a very tall & handsome friend-with-potential-to-be-my-husband. With him living & working on the East coast, and me being on the West it was a thoughtfully orchestrated trip that we both couldn't wait to take. I had already begun my mental checklist of things to take: Three adorable bikini's for the 85 degree weather, a couple of strapless sundresses that would allow the Southern Mexican sun to bronze my shoulders, my favorite tanning oil that would make me smell coconutty and delicious, and of course, a little rolly-bag full of my most fabulous strappy sandals and stilettos.

Was the trip everything Kelly dreamed of? Keep reading and find out...

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