I Talk To Myself Sometimes

Sometimes, getting off makes dudes go off…the deep end. As confusing as that’s been for me I know that I’m not alone so if you’ve ever gotten subpar peen and been dragged downward in a post-coital rabbit hole of anger, shaming, blaming, and outright outrage, then this one is for you too. Inspired by all of the “pipe” dreams Intro sang about on “Come Inside”. Listen here: https://open.spotify.com/track/1XX4xX9rrdaomm4RxAJjZW?si=K4treYrwRR2F-a2Q33xhGw

You have to come to an understanding about what it looks and feels like to trust your gut to guide you towards putting yourself first. It’s time to do away with the guilt of being seen as selfish and start leaning into what makes you feel safe and appreciated. Inspired by “In My Bed” by Dru Hill. Listen here: https://open.spotify.com/track/2MflYZf6aZzOxQWX0O7Brc?si=PfWJEgiBSI2sS115IrCC_w

**Trigger Warning** Episode contains description of domestic violence, assault and abuse. I spent so much time being busy looking…I forgot to SEE. Now that I know what I saw I don’t have the luxury to forgive and forget. This episode is for anyone that needs to keep the reality of what can go wrong top of mind in order to live a life that feels right.

You don’t feel like YOU when you’re busy being someone else. You owe it to yourself to really think about all the things that make you uniquely…well, you, and start to apply them in a way that leaves no doubt that you’re THAT girl…around the way in every way. Inspired by “Around The Way Girl” by LL Cool J. Listen here: https://open.spotify.com/track/6jL1SnyXcXiKOmw4M2RnmT?si=3rxEI6-9SjO5ggrpieOb3g

A little compliment goes a looong way. I hate when men say "I don't need to flatter you, you know how good you look." Sir, my ex literally destroyed my self esteem. Please tell me I'm pretty and that my body is nice. I NEED to hear it. Listen to the song that underscores it all, “So Fine” by Mint Condition here: https://open.spotify.com/track/2ZhSrBSchTaDbxCFi1SoiC?si=fpcI4jCmQGGKamBi6eWW0w

Sometimes, it’s not who you know…it’s knowing when to go. Today’s episode is inspired by an ex-friend’s phuckery, foolishness and the fumbling of me. Listen to the song that sparked the convo, “Get Gone” by Ideal here: https://open.spotify.com/track/0CofintZCm8MhxiOMrauiT?si=5_t29NIdRhWCNz-uh2xY9w

There was a time when asking someone to talk felt like the most intimate act of all. Jodeci’s “Come & Talk to Me (Remix)” captured that moment — when interest met intention, and connection felt both tender and bold. In this episode of I Talk To Myself Sometimes, Antoinette Arrington unpacks the quiet power of vulnerability — and how the courage to approach, listen, and be seen still defines the truest kind of intimacy.

1998. Dru Hill released “Beauty” — a song that taught us how admiration can be tender, restrained, and profoundly intimate. In this episode of I Talk To Myself Sometimes, Antoinette Arrington dissects the emotions behind the melody: the quiet recognition of love from afar, the suspended space between yearning and access, and the self-reflection that comes with time. “Beauty” isn’t just about someone else — it’s about what their presence awakens in us, and how we learn to see ourselves more clearly through that mirror. Listen as we explore desire, dignity, and the kind of connection that lingers long after the song ends.

When Lauryn Hill released “Ex-Factor” in 1998, we thought it was about heartbreak — about loving someone who wouldn’t love you back the same way.But time has shown us the truth beneath the melody:This song wasn’t just about loss, it was about forbidden love.It was the sound of loving someone who belonged elsewhere — of wanting a love that was never fully yours.In this episode of I Talk To Myself Sometimes, Antoinette unpacks the hidden truth behind Lauryn Hill’s haunting ballad — the quiet confession tucked between every note — and what it teaches us about loving from a place of hope, guilt, and eventual release.In this episode you’ll hear: • Why “Ex-Factor” was really about an affair • The emotional weight of loving where you can’t belong • The power of self-forgiveness and self-awareness • How time changes the way we hear heartbreak

When Mary J. Blige released “I Can Love You” in 1997, it became an anthem for women who loved hard and stood loyal — even when they weren’t the one being chosen.But time changes how we hear things.In this episode of I Talk To Myself Sometimes, Antoinette revisits Mary’s soulful confession and reflects on what happens when love turns into competition.It’s a conversation about worth, comparison, and the quiet truth that no woman should ever feel like she has to compete with another for love that’s meant to be hers.In this episode you’ll hear: • How love songs taught us to perform instead of receive • What it means to grow out of comparison • Why peace feels better than being picked • The moment you realize your softness was never the problem — his indecision was

Before there was the phrase “soft life,” there was “Pretty Brown Eyes.”Mint Condition didn’t just sing about heartbreak — they gave us a masterclass in emotional honesty and growth through melody.In this episode of I Talk To Myself Sometimes, Antoinette revisits “Breakin’ My Heart (Pretty Brown Eyes)” and explores how this classic 90s slow jam evolved from a song about desire into a reflection on self-awareness, boundaries, and what it means to outgrow certain versions of love.In this episode you’ll hear: • A breakdown of the emotional genius behind Mint Condition’s storytelling • Why this song still defines the sound of emotional growth and discovery • Reflections on longing, self-worth, and what it means to choose clarity over confusion • How music teaches us to recognize the difference between attraction and alignmentThis episode is for the woman who knows that healing doesn’t mean hardening — it means softening in the right direction.

Before situationships had a name, Groove Theory gave us “Tell Me.”It was more than a 90s slow jam — it was emotional maturity in disguise.In this episode of I Talk To Myself Sometimes, Antoinette revisits “Tell Me” and breaks down how this smooth groove evolved from a song about attraction to a quiet manifesto on communication, boundaries, and self-worth.In this episode you’ll hear: • How Amel Larrieux’s voice redefined feminine power and vulnerability • The shift from flirtation to self-assurance • Why clear communication is the most underrated kind of intimacy • Reflections on choosing clarity over confusion

When SWV released “Weak” in 1992, it became the anthem for every girl who ever lost her composure in the presence of someone who made her heart skip.But underneath its sweet harmonies and flawless runs, “Weak” is a confession — an emotional unraveling of what it feels like to give in to love, to lose your cool, and to risk your balance for something that feels bigger than logic.In this episode of I Talk To Myself Sometimes, Antoinette unpacks the language of surrender that shaped so many 90s love songs — the vulnerability, the longing, and the quiet ache that comes with being seen and undone.In this episode you’ll hear: • A lyric-by-lyric reflection on SWV’s “Weak” and its emotional layers • How the song redefined feminine softness and vulnerability in 90s R&B • The way love once felt like falling — and how we now understand that fall differently • Reflections on emotional safety, trust, and the risk of romantic surrender • What happens when “weak in the knees” becomes both a thrill and a warningFor anyone who’s ever been caught between strength and surrender, this one hits deep.“Weak” isn’t just a love song — it’s a mirror for what happens when we let love teach us, test us, and touch the parts we keep guarded.

When 112 sang “Cupid”, they gave us a love song wrapped in pleading and promise — a tune about wanting to be believed, wanted, and held accountable to the truth of someone’s words. This episode of I Talk To Myself Sometimes sits with that tension: the place between a declaration and the proof that follows.We’ll break the song down line by line and listen for the ways “Cupid” taught a generation to measure love by faith, endurance, and hopeful insistence. We’ll talk about what it meant to believe in someone back then, and what it means to want love that shows up consistently now. Expect lyric analysis, cultural context, and honest reflection about when hope becomes habit — and how to tell the difference.In this episode you’ll hear:​ A close read of the lyrics and the emotional beats behind them​ How 90s R&B framed devotion, accountability, and longing​ The difference between being loved and being believed — and why both matter​ Personal reflections on hope, heartbreak, and the lessons songs taught us about relationships​ Questions to sit with (or journal on) when you’re deciding whether someone’s words are enoughIf you grew up on 90s R&B or ever believed a promise so much you made room for it — this episode is for you. Tune in for a deep, candid conversation about what it really takes for love to be real.

When Aaliyah released “One In A Million” in 1996, it didn’t sound like anything else. It was sleek, futuristic, and sensual without ever being loud about it.Timbaland’s beats hit like heartbeats, Missy’s pen told a love story that felt new, and Aaliyah’s voice — soft, assured, untouchable — redefined what feminine power could sound like.Back then, it was the soundtrack to every teenage crush and quiet moment in your bedroom mirror.But now, as a 40-something woman, it feels like something deeper — a reflection on rarity, self-worth, and how we learn to hold our power without apology.In this episode of I Talk To Myself Sometimes, I unpack what “One In A Million” taught us about self-possession, identity, and the art of being wanted without needing to perform.What we explore: • How Aaliyah shifted the sound and style of R&B forever • The power of subtlety and why she never had to raise her voice to command attention • What it meant to see a young Black woman embody quiet confidence in the 90s • Listening to “One In A Million” now — how grown-woman reflection reframes love, trust, and self-worth • How to embrace your own rarity without shrinking or explaining itIf you’ve ever been told you were “too much” or “not enough,” this song — and this conversation — will remind you that you’re already one in a million.