I have a type. Pretty much unapologetically so. At least 6'3". Dark chocolate is preferred. Please have bowed legs and a toned body (like a basketball or soccer player). I've accepted that I'm kind of into pretty boys, but they must be a little rough around the edges. As far as characteristics go? Brilliant. Quick- witted. Uber masculine. Mad creative. Drawn to philanthropy. Spiritual. Sexy. Yeeeah, just thinking about my list brings a smile to my face; some pretty cool memories too.
Not to say that my type hasn't come with some of its own specialized brand of bullshishery too. It has. Boy, has it. I think that's a part of the reason why I'm not so big on sticking to a type, just for "type's sake" as much as I used to be. I mean, my late fiancé wasn't about half of the things on my preferred list and he treated me better than most of the men I've dated—or sexed—who were my actual type. Wisdom has taught me that this reality is a fact that I certainly should not overlook.
At the same time, being that so many people in my world (both men and women alike) have a traditional type, I was curious to know why we keep searching for someone who fits into our desired specifics, even if our past has taught us that our type may not be the best thing for us. Believe it or not, science has something to do with it.
According to an article that TIME published a few years back, a lot of what we find to be attractive has to do with our personal life experiences; that although we could walk up to any random person, have a discussion about what we both find attractive and agree half of the time on our stated traits (that's what the article says anyway), the other half is all our own. It's based on where we live, what we've been through and who we've made personal connections with. Matter of fact, Laura Germine (one of the authors featured in the study) said that if we see a face and then have a positive experience with that individual, not only will we find them attractive, we'll also be drawn to others who have a look that is very similar to theirs.
Another thing that can make us decide whether someone is attractive or not is the amount of exposure we have to them. Meaning, if we keep looking at the same face over and over again, we can start to find them attractive as well (I'm pretty sure that's exactly what the media is betting on, which is why we get inundated with certain faces and body types all of the time). Then, when a face that we're not familiar with comes along, we might initially deem it as being unattractive because it's not a look that we're accustomed too.
This whole "type thing" goes well beyond looks, though. Another scientific study that I checked out said that although when we break up with someone, our initial intention may be to look for the next individual to be different from our ex, more times than not, we tend to gravitate to a person who is very similar to them. A part of the reason why is based on something that a lot of people choose to give push back on—that "We are what we attract".
Why do I say that? It's not me, it's the article. According to it, we tend to be interested in people who have some of our similar personality traits (traits that are good or not so good). There's more—we also have a strong attraction to individuals whose personality is a lot like our exes—the good and the not so good. It's not so much about whether we like all of their traits so much as we are familiar with them.
And still, there's more.
Something that I share in my first book is, once I decided to go through some sexual detoxing—in part, so that I could see if I had a "type" in that area—something that I recognized was many of my sex partners physically resembled the family member who molested me (over 6', chocolate and because he was an adult and I was a child, well-endowed) and the first sex partner that I chose to be with (also over 6' and chocolate; not bad in the genitalia department). Yeah, I've always believed that sex is so powerful that our first time (or best or worst time) can significantly influence/affect the kind of partners and sex we have after them. It would appear that I'm not alone in feeling this way.
In the article "Age of First Sexual Experience Determines Relationship Outcomes Later in Life", it stated that "the timing of when a person first has sexual intercourse clearly influences the stability and quality of future romantic relationships" and in the article "Can Your Sexual Debut Predict Your Future?", the author of it shares that having sex under the age of 15 (whether it's consensual or not) "raises the level of risk for future delinquency as well as mental and physical health difficulties (depression, eating disorders, unplanned pregnancy, sexually transmitted diseases)". The author also shared that if our first experience is good, we'll tend to have a healthy view of sex. On the other hand, if it is shrouded in guilt or shame (including getting caught by a parent), that could put a "cloud" over our sex lives for years to come.
You know what they say—when you know better, you do better.
So, think about your type for just a moment. Do you keep picking people who are a mirror reflection of yourself? Maybe it's individuals who resemble your ex (or exes). When you reminisce over your first time, does it have any striking similarities to the kind of sex that you prefer even now?
It really is interesting. After doing all of this research and reading, the word that came to my mind for type was "pattern". And when I went to Google signs that we have patterns that we need to break, tons of links about unhealthy relationships and toxic connections came up. I'm sure that's not some random cosmic coincidence.
Look y'all, I'm not saying that having a type is always or necessarily a bad thing. But what I am trying to convey is if you know that you've got one but things have not been working out for you in the way you would like, perhaps sticking to your type is a part of the reason why; especially since you now know where having a type comes from.
I still want a tall Godiva Black man. And honestly, the Black part is non-negotiable. But because I know trauma and familiarity play somewhat of a direct role in why that may be the case, I'm open to go "against type"—finally. Are you?
Featured image by Unsplash
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It's kinda wild that, in 2025, my byline will have appeared on this platform for (what?!) seven years. And yeah, when I'm not waxing poetic on here about sex, relationships and then...more sex and relationships, I am working as a certified marriage life coach, helping to birth babies (as a doula) or penning for other places (oftentimes under pen names).
As some of you know, something that I've been "threatening" to do for a few years now is write another book. Welp, October 2024 was the month that I "gave birth" to my third one: 'Inside of Me 2.0: My Story. With a 20-Year Lens'. It's fitting considering I hit a milestone during the same year.
Beyond that, Pumas and lip gloss are still my faves along with sweatshirts and tees that have a pro-Black message on them. I've also started really getting into big ass unique handbags and I'm always gonna have a signature scent that ain't nobody's business but my own.
As far as where to find me, I continue to be MIA on the social media front and I honestly don't know if that will ever change. Still, if you need to hit me up about something *that has nothing to do with pitching on the site (I'm gonna start ignoring those emails because...boundaries)*, hit me up at missnosipho@gmail.com. I'll do what I can. ;)
The Mecca Of Fashion: The Top Street Style Moments At Howard Homecoming
Outfits were planned, bags were packed, and cameras were ready to capture Howard University's collegiate spirit during its centennial Homecoming celebration. Not only does it hold the number one ranking as the most elite Historically Black College and University or its top performing academics, diversity of students and alumni, but the HBCU also leaves a legacy of style and grace.
The essence of effortless poise and refinement shines bright through the iconic university colors of indigo blue, red, and white. Every October, Howard University students, alumni, staff, and friends gather on the prestigious campus in Washington, D.C. to take part in time-honored traditions and events, which is Homecoming. This year's theme, “The Meccaverse,” was a week-long celebration of Howard University’s heritage, including the Homecoming football game and Bison Pep Rally, the Fashion Show, Greek Life Step Show, Homecoming Day of Service, Lavender Reception, and the iconic Yard Fest Concert.
As 2024 marked the 100th anniversary of the Howard Bison trek back to The Mecca and after two years of virtual events due to the COVID-19 pandemic, this was to be a celebration of a lifetime. We enlisted HU alumnus Sharmaine Harris, a luxury retail buyer, as she revisited her alma mater as eyes on the yard for fashion-forward outfits mixed with personal style and campus pride for the weeklong celebration.
Before we get to the looks, discover how attending Howard University impacted her career in fashion and her day-to-day style:
Credit: Sharmaine and Friends
xoNecole: Describe your personal style. Did attending Howard have any impact on developing it?
Sharmaine: Howard taught me that there’s no such thing as being TOO dressed. There’s always a reason to “put it on” and look presentable, even if it’s just for a day of classes. Standing out was celebrated and encouraged with my peers embracing the opportunity, giving me the confidence to try new styles and trends.
xoNecole: How did Howard shape your career as a luxury buyer?
Sharmaine: I studied Fashion Merchandising, through which I was fortunate to have professors who were very connected to the industry and able to give first-hand accounts of opportunities and what to expect post-college. I was also able to build a network through my peers and other Howard Alum, which has opened doors to endless possibilities both within fashion as well as daily life.
The same confidence instilled in me through my style has also been rooted deeply within me as I step into any role or project I’m faced with throughout my career.
xoNecole: This year marked Howard’s 100th-anniversary Homecoming celebration. Can you describe what the weekend looked and felt like?
Sharmaine: I’ve gone to many Howard Homecomings since graduating, but this year’s 100th anniversary felt like a huge family reunion filled with nothing but love. It was beautiful to see so many Bison return home looking great and radiating joy. It was beautiful!
xoNecole: What makes Howard fashion different from other HBCUs?
Sharmaine: Being that Howard is The Mecca, we have such a diverse population with each individual having their own spin on fashion. Getting dressed is second nature for us, but the layered confidence is our secret ingredient to make any look come together. Through that comfortability to push barriers, we have a legacy of setting trends, as indicated by the many alumni we have in the fashion and entertainment industry.
Keep scrolling for the top street style moments from The Mecca's Homecoming weekend:
Credit: Lacey Gallagher
Credit: Alan Henderson
Credit: JaLynn Davis
Credit: Dylan Davis
Credit: Caleb Smith
Credit: Kendall W.
Credit: Jordyn Finney
Credit: Vanessa Nneoma
Credit: Dr. Mariah Sankey-Thomas
Credit: Caleb MacBruce
Credit: Tiffany Battle
Credit: Teniola
Credit: Ilahi Creary
Credit: Nicolas Ryan Grant
Credit: Dylan Davis
Join us in celebrating HBCU excellence! Check out our Best In Class hub for inspiring stories, empowering resources, and everything you need to embrace the HBCU experience.
Featured image courtesy of Sharmaine Harris
We Had A Strong Connection IRL But My Instagram Scared Him Away
If you scroll past anydating guru’s free advice, such as dating coach Anwar’s, they often promote a long-curated list of dos and don’ts, advising women on how to attract the ideal relationship.
“When men are looking at your pictures on social media or on dating apps, they’re making two assessments: one–affordability, and two–seriousness.” Dating coach Anwar said. He recommends women curate their pictures well by minimizing skin and avoiding posting too many traveling pictures which don’t represent your full life because men are trying to envision themselves in your life.
I certainly don’t believe in shrinking the essence of who I am just to bag a man –whether in-person or online– including for the one thing that brings me pure joy: my worldwide adventures. By now, it’s common knowledge that social media is only a shiny highlight reel that doesn’t take into account all aspects of real life.
I’m fortunate that the men I date in my late 30s are mature enough to understand that notion, but in the past, I’ve learned the hard way that many men are, in fact, judging women’s social media accounts to determine if they are a perfect match.
While trying to stay afloat in grad school, I managed a week-long promotional gig for a festival concert. I stumbled across a breathtakingly handsome guy engrossed in curating melodic sound production as an audio engineer.
Fine enough to giveBridgerton’s Regé-Jean Page a run for his money, this tall cutie had glistening caramel skin, big brown eyes, and a gorgeous smile that radiated across the conference center.
My heart practically stopped each time I glanced at him. I caught him conspicuously glancing my way throughout the day, too. Our energy was magnetic. I couldn’t let him get away without making it very apparent I was feeling him. Ten hours passed before we found ourselves drawing near one another. Dating co-workers is against my rules, however, dating someone I’ve met after completing a temporary gig was an exception I’d happily make.
Serotonin oozed throughout my body when he approached me. We engaged in meaningless talk, while I anticipated he’d ask for my number. Instead, he asked, “What’s your IG name?”
I’m old school; I want to get acquainted chatting on the phone until twilight–or on a well-executed romantic date. I accepted his request and followed him back. Baby steps.
Each time his adorable face popped into my mind, a rush of happiness flooded me. I’d already conducted a pre-check for a potential relationship, and based on absolutely nothing but chemistry, he had already passed. Scrolling through his page, I could see he had three, incredibly young children, from ages two to five. That’s okay, I can play step-mommy. Or so I thought.
The next morning, I swapped out my motivational morning gospel music for my vibey, R&B music. I floored the gas pedal, speeding to work in hopes of getting to the fine audio engineer as quickly as possible.
I sashayed through the conference doors with an extra sway in my hips–smitten and glowing as my bright eyes landed on him, standing by for sound check. He took one blistering look at me, and as time stood still, his scathing disapproval made me feel as though we were arch-enemies with unfinished business.
What happened in the less than twelve hours we met and were apart? I was flabbergasted by his bait-and-switch of emotions. The only culprit, I surmised: freaking Instagram.
A few hours of him ducking and diving to avoid me passed. I put my grown woman panties on and marched over to him. He pretended he couldn’t see me through the corner of his eye, but judging from the nervous stiffening of his erect posture and locked jaw–even through his discomfort, he would have to face me.
“Hey, how’s it going? You’re different today,” I said casually, yet resolute, peering deep into his wide eyes.
“Well, you know, it’s cause you’re big time. I’m just a regular guy.” He quipped. Completely confused, I stared blankly at him, waiting for an explanation.
“Your Instagram...” He confirmed like I had full knowledge of his insecurities.
“If I had seen your page before I met you, I would’ve never tried to talk to you. I’m not good enough for you.”
I melted into a puddle of vexation. I wasn’t a celebrity or social media star. Hell, I didn’t even have more than 5,000 followers! I’m a regular girl who’s had a career in entertainment which has afforded me many opportunities to attend swanky events; I love upscale travel and dining at Yelp’s highest-rated star restaurants–and yes, I relish capturing those delicious moments. But at that time, I was a broke girl in grad school, making a few coins on the same gig I’m certain he was earning a pretty penny for.
He’d already taken over my thoughts, feelings, and body’s desires in a short twenty-four hours. Though he was far from aware of all the ways he had swept me off my feet without stepping foot on an actual date, the energy between us was undeniable. I literally couldn’t stop thinking about him and grinning since the moment I saw him, and I know for sure he felt the same. And now he’s thinking he isn’t good enough for me?
He was fine, humble, funny, had a sexy physique, and a lucrative career, yet for some ridiculous reason he’d convinced himself he could never be with a woman like me? I was floored. Typically, I’m not forward with men in the initial stages of dating. It’s important I feel highly desired and sought after before I explode candidly. But the world was going to absolutely know that day: “I like you. You’re someone I’d like to get to know. And you’re absolutely perfect for me.”
He sighed and relaxed his shoulders. I felt empowered, quelling his feelings of inadequacy. (Or temporarily, I shall say). I’d soon learn that if a guy was harboring major insecurities, the idyllic lines to boost his ego are merely fleeting.
Pumped up on an extra dose of courage, later that day, he asked for my number. And I delightfully obliged.
We spent a good amount of time expressing our mutual feelings towards each other and perused through calendar dates to see when our schedules would match up. He lived in Las Vegas, but working as an audio engineer for major events necessitated him to spend most of his year traveling across the country and internationally. Still, I was determined to make it work.
And yet, it didn’t work. Despite my insanely busy grad schedule, I was ready to trek to Vegas or whichever country he visited, except his insecurities overflowed like putrefying lava. I probed to see how involved he was with his baby mama. Ya know, normal stuff. Somehow, he took that as a jab.
“You don’t want to date me because I have three kids, huh?” Again, he left me confused and exhausted because I was absolutely ready to become a bonus mommy to the right one.
Despite the endless times I cleared up what he thought was a problem, boom! another insecurity flared up. Coddling a mid-thirties man, who had thee lowest self-esteem I’d ever encountered was dooming.
A few months passed and winter had descended upon the Sundance Film Festival in Park City, Utah. I’d just left a snazzy art gallery Chiwetel Ejiofor hosted for his independent movie premiere. Park City is a magical and frosty cold, picturesque town in January. Most of the festival events are situated on densely packed Main Street. I stepped my leather boots outside onto the icy, uphill sidewalk, with a platonic male friend in tow. My phone rang–it was audio engineer bae. I noticed his name and pushed decline.
“You ignoring me now when you could’ve easily picked up the phone?”
What in the hell?! I peered around on both sides of my street, cautiously nervous.
I hopped into the black SUV. The festival traffic moves slower than molasses. You could gingerly walk down the street and still beat a moving car. As the driver slowly peeled away, I glanced to the opposite side of the art gallery street; there I saw old bae, forlornly staring at me, saddened with puppy eyes in his hooded Parka. I was busted. In my defense, however, I hadn’t heard from him in months, and us dating was certainly a never-ever-going-to-happen-closed case.
How was I supposed to know he’d been watching me from 150 feet away? No human in their right mind would expect an immediate answer, but he did.
“Hey, sorry, but it’s really hectic; I gotta hurry to this next event.” I apologized despite not owing him one. If he’d crossed my mind at any point up until now, it’d be futile. His recurring insecurities ate at him and thus, swallowed any attraction or potential traction for us.
By the time my plane landed in sunny Los Angeles, he unfriended me on IG. Exhausted from the nonsensical mental gymnastics, I unfollowed him, too.
Finally, we agreed: the feeling is mutual, boo.
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Featured image by Charles Olu-Alabi/Getty Images