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SWINGBABYSWING

I thought it was against the rules.

You know, the one where you’re supposed to wait a few days, maybe even a week before the second date. 

So when Striker suggested we meet up the next morning for coffee and co-working I thought…

Tomorrow?

As in, tomorrow tomorrow?

Truth is, I wanted more.

So– I broke them.


Show me whatchu got, Striker! Can you keep Krystal engaged two dates in a row?

Nonchalantly ripping another page out of the rule breaker playbook, I threw on my favorite hightop sneakers and the jeans jacket my mom hates so much.

My brother’s going to kill me when he finds out I wore sneakers.

Of course, Striker would show up in his dapper duds.

Dude, it’s the day before Thanksgiving!

He sat down beside me– the most awkwardly, annoying thing ever– and we both opened our laptops pretending to send important emails, wondering what the next person was going to say.

“Are you good?”

Leave it to me to break the silence.

He smiled. It was time for lunch.

As if to anticipate my discomfort, Striker quickly switched seats, sitting across from me.

We devoured our so-so sandwiches, amazing fries and washed it down with a healthy does of serious date #2 conversation.

* What top three qualities do you want in a man?
* Do you want to be married? How many children?
* Currently dating, married, divorced?
* What are your love languages?
* Toothpaste cap on or off?

Okay, maybe not that last one, but you get the drift.

I was pleasantly surprised by Striker’s “cut to the chase” attitude.

Gotta love a man who knows what he wants.

“Want to go for a walk?”

Not to mention, a man with a plan.

“Sure.”

He took care of the bill and– somewhat prematurely–he took my hand.

I went along with it because this was a gesture that said, “I’m listening.”

Physical touch, I told him earlier, was second only to acts of service when it comes to my love language.

We walked over the bridge onto a baseball field and there it was.

“A park? You mean a real park?”

He smiled. And so did I.

“Swings first, right?”

I ran.

“Swings it is.”

Autumn

Although he sat directly across from me, his hazel eyes curiously taking account, I paid him no mind.

“I knew I wanted you from the moment I saw you,” he would later say.

My hazel eyes were set on other sights.

Unfortunately, the 6’4, dark chocolate chunk of a man to my right, had a lilt that led me to believe he might play for the other team.(A common occurance when dating in D.C.)

The dinner party was a straight man’s paradise and this straight love jumper’s loss.

No eligible bachelors in sight. Though, I did meet a handsome hipster who walked me to the train station after dinner.

More about him later.

After exchanging a few words with “Striker”— and embarrassingly asking him to repeat his very Nigerian name— his slight accent put the nail in the coffin.

I was done.

You see, I’ve had my fair share of Naija men and let’s just say their jollof just doesn’t jive with my jerk.

But we’re love jumping right?

So in a casual exchange I gave him my number never expecting him to reach out.

But he did. He texted. He called. He texted again.

And even when I cancelled, rescheduled and flaked a few times–yikes!– he continued to ask me out.

Finally, our first date.

Drinks at a darling neighborhood bar that screamed: LOVE JUMP! There were hearts and pictures of the word LOVE, everywhere.(Did this guy know what he was doing or what?)

We sipped Sangria (well, I gulped while he nursed) and got lost in several hours of conversation about our heritage, hobbies and hopes.

It was perfect. He smelled like heaven and had the charm and intellect to match.

I remember thinking, this is one of the best first dates I’ve ever been on.

I’m guessing the same was true for him.

“See you in the morning?” he said as he drove me home.

“Sure. See you in the morning.”

It’s been a week since I had my first #lovejump with Military Man. Update in the video!

 

Mommy and Me

 

She got me good. Real good.

“Yu a tutty tree an mi nevah si yu wid a man yet…. and you might nu hav no piknee eeda.”

TRANSLATION: You’re thirty three and I’ve never seen you with a man. You might not have any kids either.

It was a dig and I deserved it.

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Screen Shot 2015-04-22 at 9.59.53 PMPeople ask me all the time, “who created that beautiful video on the blog?” and I say two words:

Jessi LeMay. 

She’s a dear friend of mine and founder of The Folk and The Lore and Jessi LeMay Photography.

Recently, she created a beautiful visual essay on Storehouse, telling the story of how The Love Jump came to be.

“The Love Jump: An Exercise in Faith” has received a lot of traction, even getting republished by National Geographic.

It’s incredibly beautiful and more than anything I could have imagined.

I hope you love it as much as I do.

xo, Krystal

P.S. If you have a sec, head over to Jessi’s site and show her a little love. ;)

lovely, still

This is not the typical date night recap.

I know.

You’ve been waiting for some time now.

And I appreciate those of you who continue to take this journey with me.
Your comments, emails, texts and calls asking, “how’s the love life?,” remain an encouragement to me.

However sporadic my posts may be, I am still loving and jumping (in one way or another), daily.

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photo 3

WINTER IS THE WORST SEASON FOR LOVE JUMPING— EVER.

So it’s March and maybe you’re somewhere where the warmth of the sun is shining on your face— P.S. I hate you— but D.C. is a freezing, 30 degree, ice rink right now and I hate it.

Yesterday I successfully attempted the worlds most terrible parking job trying to parallel park my Honda Civic over a mound of ice, after which I got out of my car and quickly banana peeled it straight into the air and busted my ass on the ground. The best part— wait for it— the landlord I was going to meet to check out an apartment that I could not in a million years afford— was kind enough to tell me that he watched the entire thing happen through his overpriced living room bay window. Thanks, guy.

The bottom line is, winter sucks enough as it is. When you are dizzy from getting lost on unfamiliar, icy D.C. streets, avoiding parking tickets, hiding from the law because your out of state tags are expired and the Wells Fargo teller lost your drivers license (I can’t even begin to explain this one) the last thing you want to do is go to a singles speed dating mixer at the end of the week— not to mention the agony of actually having to shave your legs!

Here are a few more of my late night flirtation frustrations about my D.C. love jumpin’.

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It’s LOVE SEASON baby! And there is no day like today (cue RENT soundtrack) to say Olive Juice!! Not a modern day Shakespeare? Me neither. That’s why I took a class called “The Art of Crafting the Perfect Love Letter.”  

Take these tips and craft a swoon-worthy love letter for your boo-thang tonight! (Shout out to recovering romance blogger, Carl Pierre of WeWork D.C. for these lovely tips!)

The Art of Crafting a Perfect Love LetterKrystal Reading

1) Know the person you’re writing for. Draw on strengths, faults, passions, fears and dreams to craft a compelling note.

2) Know WHY you’re writing. What about this person makes you feel the way you do?

3) Make it DEEPLY PERSONAL. If it sounds like a hallmark card, stop and start over.

P.S. Did you miss my BreveTV interview this week?! Click here to watch it. XOXO to the brilliant ladies of  BreveTV for sharing my #LoveJump with the world!!!!!

xxoo, Krystal

The Love Jump on BreveTV

The Love Jump Live on BreveTV!

 

F-R-E-A-K-I-N-G W-E-I-R-D.

I was packing up my bag for at least an hour.

Packing, unpacking, then packing again after brunching and browsing the books at Busboys and Poets, my new favorite place in D.C.

Tinderoni Returns The sun was more than shining when I got here.

Now, 8 hours later after substantial people watching, it was dinnertime and I was hungry.

I asked my friend Bellamy for restaurant recommendations and as he rattled off a few I glanced at the door. That’s when my mouth fell to the floor.

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martin and coretta

Whether you’ve been married for 25 years or you’re jumping back into the dating scene, we can all learn a thing or two (or five) about love. In the Oscar-nominated film, Selma, an impeccably poised, Coretta Scott King, played by Carmen Ejogo, shows us no one knows how to love a king, like a queen.

Here are 5 ways to love selflessly without losing your sense of self. Inspired by the life of Coretta Scott King, respectfully and affectionately referred to below, as “Cory.”

Choose Words Wisely
A wise woman knows when to say what. And Coretta Scott King knows this quite well. Dressed in white lace and pearls, “Cory” (as her husband endearingly calls her) doesn’t rush to respond to an anxious Dr. King, as chatty Cathy’s–you know who you are–sometimes do. Instead, she listens closely, using her words to offer support, not criticism. And she ties a mean tie, to boot. Take notes, ladies. Good love reminds a man just how good he is, all while showing him how irresistible you are.

Hold Down the Home Front
“Cory” is a champion for her children. She understands (instead of underrates) the power she has in holding down the home front. Sure, there are times she longs to be on the front lines marching for the cause. But “Cory” knows her job at home is a critical part of the movement. Remember; sometimes love means positioning yourself where you are needed most. There is power in freeing your partner up to pursue their highest calling.

Get Up, Stand Up
Don’t let the sweet demeanor fool you. Underneath the polished elegance of “Cory” is a fierce woman named Coretta waiting for her moment to fight. She is not afraid to let her husband know, enough is enough. Coretta stands her ground for her children defending their safety while fielding threatening phone calls. As Dr. King waits in jail, she steps in, meeting with mighty men like Malcolm X, brilliantly using her firm, yet gentle speech to gain ground, like only a woman can.

Make Sense of Love
“Cory” shows us, love is in the subtleties. Sensing when your partner is weary, worried, tired or turned on—that’s love. It says, “I know you. I hear you.” In one scene, she plays an X-rated recording that stood to accuse Martin of cheating. In his attempt to deny the charge, “Cory” assures her man, “ I know your voice.” In another scene, Dr. King accuses her of being smitten after meeting with Malcolm X. “You’re tired,” she tells Martin who agrees. It’s not always the grand actions or expressions that say, “I love you.” Sometimes, simply knowing is enough.

It’s Not About You
Love is not about you. Not only did “Cory” know this, she lived it. Her willingness to put her needs and dreams aside for the greater good was enviable. We should all be so lucky to meet someone who makes us say, “you before me.” It’s clear to see why Coretta Scott was the queen to Martin’s king.