Sex and the Single Sister STORY ONE FARAH 24 BROOKLYN, NY DATING STATUS: Caught up with somebody else''s catch THOHGS, LAPTOPS, AND TOSSED SALADS I''m attractive and slender, wrapped in cinnamon brown skin, with long, "good" hair and an attitude to match the assets. I graduated from the top educational institutions in the country. I''m bright--a B. A. and M. A. degree in political science from Columbia University and I''m a junior correspondent at NBC News. I have plans to buy a few brownstones in Brooklyn and basically kick some ass when it comes to making money! Working at one of the nation''s largest TV networks has its perks: free admission to costly events, meeting influential people, invites to all the right parties in the city, and mingling with politicians, officials, and the entertainment world.
Like all jobs, it does have its flip side. I''m one of two black people hired as correspondents, which makes it rather lonely. I''ve been here since college and started as an intern. Though I''m a freelancer, I''m satisfied with that. The freelancer''s life is always full of adventure: What will the next story be? Where is the next check coming from? As a freelancer you carve your own path, and with the right contacts you can basically live as good as a full-time worker--or better. I''ve always been a writer, though. Before I could even write, I was thinking. I had an imagination that would put Disney World to shame! When I was five, a class assignment was to picture what lives would we live as adults.
Considering that as young kids we could barely write a complete, coherent sentence, we had to "express" our thoughts and feelings. While everyone else wanted tobe some cartoon hero, I wanted to be a princess who lived in a castle on Mars, had servants, and conquered the universe. As I got older, I put my imagination into structured stories. In high school I was the assistant editor of the school newspaper, The Times Observer. As a sophomore, I uncovered a story where a senior was found out to be bribing a male teacher for an "A" before graduation. The senior, who was very popular, was expelled and the teacher suspended. Students loitered the hallways with newspapers claiming I had made the incident up as a way to get attention for my stories. I lost several friends and some officials refused to be used as sources for any of my future stories.
But I got past that. In college the stories were a bit more on the sexier side of things. The name of the college newspaper was Ebony Voices. You guessed it! It was the black student publication and I was editor of the relationships section, where I would get all the dirt on who was doing who and report it. A few relationships and egos were broken. Such as the boyfriend who was seeing another girl who lived right next door to his girlfriend in the same dorm. He would sneak out of his girlfriend''s room and hide in the stairwell. When the coast was clear, he would knock on the other girl''s door and be quickly let in.
The "other girl" called in the story in hopes of finally breaking up his relationship. We promised to withhold her name, but we gave his name and the girlfriend''s name. This was the biggest thing on campus since the boyfriend was the top point guard in his NCAA division. His girlfriend ended up dumping him and becoming friends with the "other girl." I guess in college people don''t take certain things as seriously as we do in the real world. Another incident involved a freshman having an affair with thedean of students. His name and full title were withheld, but the freshman gave detailed accounts of their times together, including the worn-down church shoes he would wear on every date. Since that article, all eyes were on administrators with church shoes! Instead of me being labeled a troublemaker, in college, I gained even more friends through my stories.
Somehow everyone thought if they became friends with me, I wouldn''t hang their ass out to dry. But if you put your business out in the street, someone is bound to sweep it up. It was in college when I decided the school newspaper was just not enough. My professor introduced me to Lena, editor at the Daily News , who was a former student at Columbia. I was an intern there for a while but convinced them to let me write a story by the end of summer. It wasn''t exactly Pulitzer-prize work but a small story on the fight to take back a community park. Finally, Lena let me do a piece on relationships between students and professors. The article included homosexual affairs, too.
It did raise some eyebrows, but that time I blamed Lena. Anytime someone asked me why I included some private details, I would just shake my head and say, "My editor made me do it." The article was a hit and got me lots of local attention. I continued writing for the newspapers, as well as Black Enterprise magazine. I was lucky. This isn''t usually the case with many young writers--black or white. Landing the job at NBC was a godsend. Going from print to TV can make your head spin! Television is supersonic compared to print, where a lead time can be several months.
When I told an editor I worked for about my television goals after graduation,she gave me the number of a "good friend" at NBC. The next week I was interviewing with Myra, and two weeks later I was traveling between New York and D.C. covering congressional/government issues and interviewing the bigwig policy makers and breakers. Anyone who''s been to D.C. knows that the government can be very male dominated. Everywhere I went, there was a man I had to speak to, meet, or shake hands with.
Most of them were grumpy, conservative old men, but many were young, aggressive, attractive, and on the road to success. I don''t have many capital affairs to share except one where I was covering a local party convention. On my way back from the vending machine after a long night of transcribing an interview, I walked past the half-opened door of an up-and-coming senator and his friends being entertained by several "ladies" in his hotel room. As soon as I made it down the hall to my room, the door slammed shut. Just earlier that evening the same senator had been campaigning with a doting wife and family standing at his side. There are always rumors of indiscretion in D.C., but I was more interested in making my own scandal than reporting others.
Well, not a real scandal, but a private one. When in town, meeting men in D.C. is not a problem. A lot of reporters stay in the same hotel for a few days when covering a story about a convention, meeting, or conference. At the end of the day when the interviews have finished, note taking has ceased, and keyboards have rested--it''s time to head to the bar. The scene is like any other one, but this time the suits are lined with fat pockets. The same handsome reporter who ignored me in the hotel lobby is now trying to whisper sweet nothings in my ear;the bar''s patrons being policy makers who indirectly or directly have an effect on the laws and administration of this country doesn''t make a bit of difference.
It''s just like when I''m in New York-- once a bar always a bar . THOUGH IT MAY SOUND like I''m doing pretty well, my Grandma Jesse always asks, "So when you gonna settle down and find you somebody nice?" My answer is, "I''m only twenty-four!" All I get is one of those, "These young people today ." looks. No matter how much I accomplish in my professional life, my personal life always gets the most scrutiny. Working in TV news is constant work, unusual hours, and the schedule is unpredictable. One week you are working on the 5 P.M. show, and the next day you are doing the 4 A.
M. show. All I wanted to do when I got home was sleep! Sadly, the men I''d be dating would think I was playing hard to get or cat-and-mouse games when really I just didn''t have the energy. Some of them I really liked, but eventually they would disappear after a few weeks. I guess they have too many choices out there. But that was then and this is now. The career girl approach has landed me by myself too many nights. When the opportunity presents itself for me to have a good time, I''m there.
Still, there is the other issue of adjusting to what men want today. Men say they want a good woman, someone with goals, who takes care of herself. But when they see the hoochie mama with her breasts pouring out her shirt, their attention diverts to that and they completely lose interest in me. Or how about when I cook and try to get domestic, like I think some men appreciate,they want to be with the glamour queens and divas who think Pine-Sol is a new tanning lotion! I''m a good woman who doesn''t curse and has morals, but that doesn''t excite the men I meet anymore. Playing by the rules sometimes lands me with the kit but not the caboodle. IT''S THE BEGINNING Of my few days of vacation from work! No interviews, producers, or deadlines to meet. It''s a Sunday night and I don''t try to leave the house on Sundays, more less go to a club. But my girl, Lola, is really excited about going to Club Lotts on Spring Street.
We heard it was off the hook on Sunday nights; and when we rolled past there Memorial Day weekend, we saw all kinds of people stepping out in everything from Jimmy Choos to Bakers, and from Range Rovers to Kias. It was about thirty minutes before I had to meet Lola at the Bergen Street train station, and I just couldn''t get myself looking right. I had on so.