If I had it my way, I would write every day. Every minute. Every instant. I would make a living off of my words again.

Since I am a Manifestation Queen and go-getter, that is exactly what I am doing. Only this time around, I am doing it my way.

This time I am penning the stories that stir my heart and creativity instead of what the editorial and publishing industry deems fit. Stories I cannot type fast enough because they pour out of me like a stream of water from a tipped jar. Stories that feature Latinx characters that I feel, see, and hear in my mind.

This time I believe in myself with an unrelenting and unwavering certainty. This time I am asking for what I desire without shame or guilt.

Things are changing. I am changing. I have changed. I know that you, dear reader, know this also because you have supported me along the way.

Yesterday, at approximately 5:55pm ET, I flushed the last 12 years of my life down the toilet. “Goodbye, address!” I cackled as Love Sujeiry dot com circled the drain. “Hasta la vista, electricity!” I shouted before closing the lid once and for all. I washed my hands, slammed the door shut, and said one final prayer before walking out.

“God, thank you for gifting me with the idea of Love Sujeiry. She brought me so much success, excitement, and abundance. I’m ready to move on now.”

And by moving on, I mean completely cutting off the Love Sujeiry persona and content creation machine like you would a codependent ex. Even if you thrived in that relationship, once you outgrow the person and dynamic it’s impossible to return to what was. You just have to cut the chord. Unfollow on Instagram. Unfriend on Facebook. No more texting memes and TikTok reels. Cut off all ties.

Prior to flushing, I had only changed my name from Love Sujeiry to Sujeiry Gonzalez on Instagram. Love Sujeiry dot com survived the revolt. She resisted. However, after receiving a notification that my website domain would renew, I asked myself, what is her purpose?

Subscribe now

I no longer enjoy sharing dating and relationship tips, or creating click bait-y SEO optimized content for traffic ‘s sake. I don’t enjoy obsessing over my Google Analytics, hoping a blog post will gain enough traction to bring in more income. Do you know what I enjoy even less? Filling my free moments writing blog posts for Love Sujeiry instead of working on my 3 books. Instead of writing to all of you.

I feel a sense of a community with all of you. I feel like I’m sharing a piece of my heart and speaking to someone. Even if you don’t respond half the time, I know you’re there because you have yet to unsubscribe. (And don’t do it now!)

So, on April 6, 2022 at 5:55pm ET, I shut it all down. Love Sujeiry dot com is now long gone. From today onward, I intend to pour my energy, time, and love into the relationships, businesses, and experiences that feed my bank account and my soul.

Adios, Love Sujeiry. For good. May you easily flow through the pipes and never return again. Cue Sarah McLachlan’s “Angel and pour one out for her, won’t ya?

RIP Love Sujeiry (4/7/10 - 4/6/22)

P.S. Sorry for yesterday’s Venus email. Love Sujeiry needed one last hurrah, so I threw her a bone.

News! News! News!

I have an outline for Love Trips Vol 2! Yep. A second Love Trips is in the works. If you didn’t read the first one, catch up. It’s finger licking juicy. Get it here.

I have some beef with And Just Like That. So much so that I ran to my computer after stuffing my mouth with six gingerbread cookies to write an open letter instead of a recap. 

I begin with, “How dare you?!” How dare you portray online dating after 40 in such a manner? And I’m not speaking about the (SPOILER ALERT!) throw up scene between Robert and Carrie. I’m sure many women over the age of 40 have been doused with puke after a date with a 40-something-year old man because he’s had too much to drink. Or maybe you’re a woman in your 40s that’s now a cougar. That’s what you get for dating boys in their 20s that still drink cheap liquor. Absolut Vodka, anyone? 

The Reality of Online Dating After 40

I’m referring to how quickly Carrie Bradshaw connected with a man on an online dating app. She went on an actual date in 2.2 seconds. Excuse me? I have some questions. 

I’ve spoken to many single women and they’ve all relayed the same message: online dating after 40 is the pits. You don’t just get on a dating app and meet a cutie patootie that’s sweet and professional. Nooooooo! This is what online dating after 40 actually looks like. (Hold your husbands, married women!)

Scenario 1

You swipe right. He swipes right. He initiates conversation over chat. And you chat for days and sometimes weeks before he asks for your phone number. If he asks for your number, you chat some more. And by chat, I mean texts. Maybe he’ll throw you a bone and Facetime you. And after you’re at your wits end, wondering if this mofo only wants to be your Pen Pal, he asks you out on a date.

Scenario 2

The situation can get worse. So much worse. Because sometimes, after chatting and texting and hoping to meet in person, he ghosts you. And you feel like you just wasted your damn time yet again. But, just like Carrie Bradshaw’s editor said in And Just Like That’s “Sex and the Widow,” we gotta keep hope alive. So, when a new guy swipes right, we swipe left. Because it gives us a glimmer of hope that online dating after 40 will amount to more than just random phone numbers in our Contacts. 

Don’t get me wrong, I loved this episode of And Just Like That. It had the same pace as Sex and the City and Anthony’s one-liners killed me. Carrie felt light and Charlotte was Charlotte. And Miranda? Well, she tried to get it on with Steve in the kitchen, but he’s rusty and forgot how to finger bang. He asks Miranda if he should get the lube because he assumes her vaginal dryness has to do with being in her 50s. (Menopause, anyone?) Psst. Steve. She’s dry cause you ain’t Chey. 

And just like that, Miranda is lying in bed with Chey Diaz who’s sucking on her nipples like a pacifier and I’m thinking, can they show this on TV? 

That’s more action than I’ve seen in years. Because I’m a 40 something year old woman who’s been single since 2018. One that wishes she could meet a man online just like that, throw up on my heels and everything.  

Love Sujeiry: Why are you doing this to me? Abandoning all we’ve built together.

Me: I have no need for you anymore.

Love Sujeiry: So you’re going to dump me?

Me: It’s time.

Love Sujeiry: But, what did I do to deserve this?

Me: You helped me, you did. I’m just not that person anymore.

Love Sujeiry looks back at me in the mirror, her lower lip trembles and her eyes widen. I want to hold her, I do. To console her and tell her that she can continue her role as Sujeiry’s representative and hype woman. But she has to move on, I have to move on. Like a kid that quits every job because he knows he can return to his momma’s basement, I need to grow the fuck up and do this thing called life as Sujeiry Gonzalez.

Love Sujeiry begins to pace, her curly hair dancing each time she spins on her heels. She realizes that she cannot convince me, that although she is a part of me she is no longer the boss of me. I’ve grown so much since I let her lead. Since she emerged from within to help us take the media by storm as a Latinx sex and relationship expert and radio personality. And I appreciate all she has done for me. We’ve accomplished every goal together. But she has also become a crutch. A mask to hide behind that I no longer need. Because I am fully embracing myself and my talents. I accept my imperfections and love every shadowy, ugly part of me. I continue to work through my deep-seated insecurities that manifest a need to be seen and heard and to be validated by others.

Me: I’m sorry, again, I am. You just don’t serve a purpose anymore.

I wave goodbye. Her lips curls up slowly as she waves back. I turn around and walk toward my computer, knowing what needs to happen next on this magical day of 2/22/22. I pull the plug on the Love Sujeiry brand and persona, changing my Instagram name and newsletter to Sujeiry Gonzalez. I buy sujeirygonzalez and begin working on my new website to fully unleash myself onto the world.

And with that, I’d like to introduce myself. Hello, I’m Sujeiry Gonzalez and I’m a Latinx romance author and freelance writer. And, P.S, Love Sujeiry doesn’t live her anymore.

News! News! News!

So, yea, I’m now Sujeiry Gonzalez on most platforms. I’m still working on changing a few others. If you are already following me on Instagram, no need to do a thing. If you haven’t followed me, you follow me on sujeiry.gonzalez.

My new website will launch soon enough! Still working on it and keeping it simple.

Stay tuned for more writing, romance novel bits and pieces, and publishing updates!

Boys gagged over Harper, a beauty queen with long legs, big breasts, and even bigger confidence; Viviana’s green eyes and soulful conversations penetrated your very core; and Luna’s exuberant laugh and sensual nature made one feel at ease and intrigued all at once.

Spending nights with them exploring bars in the city, trading dating stories, and celebrating professional wins, felt like my own version of Sex and the City. I became enraptured with my new friend group, temporarily abandoning childhood friends who had married and hunkered down in suburbia. It was the friend group that I always desired, a collective sisterhood of Latina women that related and supported each other. Their feminine energy inspired me while simultaneously intimidating me as I often felt that I didn’t measure up.

I wasn’t seductive, like Harper; my version of sexy was less sultry lioness and more graceless baby horse.

Viviana’s free-spirited nature allowed her to date without attachments; I could barely get out of bed in the morning if a guy that I banged didn’t call me back. And Luna had endless stories of paramours who courted her, wining and dining her with all-expenses paid trips to Europe. I was lucky if a guy didn’t ask me to go halfsies when the dinner bill hit the table.

I wanted to bottle up each of their secrets and create an elixir to chug like a shot of Fireball. I wanted to feel as desired by men as they were when walking into a room. Because they were we at Helen’s New York, ordering drinks at the bar, and all eyes were on them. I didn’t feel envious of my friends, I didn’t want to take away attention from them. I just wanted to be desired, admired, seen.

And as I leaned against the bar and watched my friends flirt with men, I wished I could receive a little validation. That I too was seductive enough, wild enough, free-spirited enough, sultry enough, intriguing enough…just enough.

If you love what you read, I’ve appreciate to hear about it! I promise I don’t bite. Just hit the reply button and chat with me via email. I’ll be waiting :-)

I first practiced the art of manifestation before I knew it had a name. Like at 11 years old when I desperately desired my first crush, Jose, to like me back. In my journal, I’d write in detail about all of the things that we would do together, like hold hands, talk on the phone about our favorite cartoon characters, and never ever kiss. (Mami would kick my ass and I knew better.) I’d doodle our names together while fantasizing about our love affair. And it worked. Sort of. In 6th grade, Jose, liked me back until new girl, Linda, walked in. She made out with him instantly and heavily in between class periods all right in front of me. That’s the outcome you get when you listen to your mother.

Another manifestation: increasing my breast size. After reading Judy Blume’s Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret? I took a page from Margaret’s book and attempted to summon larger bosoms by repeating, “I must, I must, I must increase my bust.” I’d shut my eyes tight and envision a size B to my size Training Bra. And it worked. Sort of. At 43 years old, I can finally say my breasts are a mouth full.

Now, don’t let the twists and turns of these two tales fool ya. Manifestation does work. It just doesn’t always happen when we wish and sometimes not even how we imagined. Take my career, for example. I’ve loved books and writing stories since Scholastic began sending brochures home with kids via our classroom teacher, since “This is your brain on drugs” commercials plagued our TV screens every afternoon, since women rocked Power Suits with shoulder pads to prove their worth as professionals in male-dominated industries…you get my drift. I’d shut my eyes and visualize my life as a published author, writing stories about my Dominican family and culture. And that’s the career that I cultivated with some additional and unexpected twists and turn, much like Jose and Linda. Because I never thought that I would be a relationship writer turned relationship expert turned SiriusXM radio show host. Shy, timid, and quiet little Sujeiry that’s terrified of her momma? Never. Yet there I was, on the mic, dishing on break-up sex, and in print, sharing my heart break.

So, yes, manifestation works. That’s why I beg anyone that listens (and some that refuse to, like my old school momma and my new-school Power Suit-donning sister) to learn about and utilize the Power of Manifestation.

So, why did I say yes to a job that didn’t check any of my boxes? My fear of the unknown, that why.

Subscribe now

There I was at my new job, realizing that I had made the wrong choice. Every inch of me yelled, “QUIT!” so I did just that after one week. Fortunately, following my intuition and course correcting led to a new position that checks most of my boxes.

My current gig pays more, is fully remote, and my schedule is flexible enough that I can be a more present mom. And yet, it still doesn’t feel right. Because no job will ever satisfy me like making a living as a storyteller does. It’s like substituting the warmth and touch of a man for a vibrator. Eventually, I want the real deal!

That’s why I’m stopping the excuses. By any means necessary, I’m finding the time to create. And as I wrote and edited and rewrote this very piece, my intuition spoke to me again, reminding me why I started this project in the first place: to share my personal essays, romantic fiction, and the voices and stories of Latinx. Only I haven’t been doing that at all. Instead, I made a rational decision to repurpose juicy Love Sujeiry content and share it here on Love Sujeiry on Substack It was less work. Just like when I took that first job, I made a strategic move void of intuition and passion. I chose the easy route instead of taking a chance as a writer.

We do this, you know. We talk ourselves into and out of things because we are afraid to fail. We bet on what’s safe, not on the things that ignite us. We forget that our inner child lives within and has a vision for our lives.

So today, I vow to continue to move in the ways that feel right. I vow to show myself grace as I learn to trust myself again.

Want to share your personal essays on Love Sujeiry on Substack? Hit reply and let’s chat! And of course, I appreciate your support. Share, subscribe, and enjoy!

Subscribe now

I’m sneaking in with one last plea (ok, never last) to subscribe. I’m trying to buy a house and the mortgage is too damn high!

Subscribe now

I had a brain hemorrhage on July 21, 2016, just a month after having my son, Evan. The neurologist couldn’t find a reason for my subarachnoid bleed. “Just one of those things,” he said.

“Do I have to change my diet or work less?” I asked.

“Other than avoiding any traumatic head injuries, you can live your life as is.”

And so I have. Since that unexpected evening where I was rushed by ambulance down the Southern State Parkway to Northwell Health in Manhasset, NY, I’ve acted as if nothing happened. That is until recently when I felt a dull, needling pain in my right temple. It was after a long day of thinking way too much.

On a normal day, I think about a million things. Most of my thoughts consist of trying to figure something out, whether that be how to make more money, how to save more money, when and how to buy a home, how to build a lucrative and successful career as a writer, podcaster, and what to do in the meantime so I can (say it with me now) make more money (money is on my mind A LOT). Plus, there’s Evan’s speech delay, Evan growing up way too fast, and my ex and his homewrecker girlfriend. Oh, and money (did I say that already?).

On a regular day, I assume my mind probably looks something like this.

And my body definitely reacts to all of my swirling thoughts. My shoulders tense, my neck aches and, when my mind is finally quiet right before bed, I feel that needling pang in my right temple that scares the shit out of me.

I felt that pang last night after a day where my thoughts banged against each other as I worked through yet another life-altering decision: to teach or not to teach again to increase my income. It’s the only reason I’m actually considering it.

In my heart, I know the answer. But then that answer leads to more questions which leads to more thinking which leads to a fear that I will indeed suffer another brain hemorrhage. Because as much as Dr. Neuro reassured me that it was just a fluke, that I could go about my business like it never happened, it did happen. I lived it. I remember it. And I never ever want to experience that again.

I am lucky to be alive. Blessed and highly favored by God. I am thankful to be present in mind, body, and spirit, to have all of my senses, logic, and cognition, and to have the ability to share my stories with whoever wants to listen. So from today forward, I’m going to stop thinking so much, let go, let God, and just live.

Get Your Updates

A breakdown of all things Sujeiry, including books, courses, updates, and freebies!

1. Love Trips is available on Amazon. Grab a copy here!

I’m sneaking in with one last plea (ok, never last) to subscribe. I’m trying to buy a house and the mortgage is too damn high!

Subscribe now

Subscribe now

Now let’s get to that damn pressure cooker called mid-life.

I entered middle-aged with metaphorical bricks on my back. The term “middle aged” is daunting enough, even more so when you don’t feel your youth slipping through the cracks. I may not be able to drop it like it’s hot or throw back shots of Don Julio, but I carry the same dreams in my heart that I did at 25.

My dreams are as fanciful as pink cotton candy, but life isn’t always so fluffy. I can’t pay rent with popsicle sticks or hoe myself out on Only Fans because Mami would literally die. And who will pay good money to watch a middle-aged woman attempt to twerk?

Unless there’s a fetish for cellulite and C-section scars that I’m not privy to, I have to put food on the table the good old fashion way: by doing work that I don’t necessarily love.

So, do I continue building my media empire as the Dominican JLo (only with less nargas) or accept life as regular shmegular Joanna Garcia Schmoe and return to work full time? This question is at the crux of my mid-life crisis.

Share

For years, I’ve teetered between, “Fuck it! I’m going to be a full-time creativepreneuer by any means necessary!” and “Fuck it, I’m going to teach for a living because the rent is too damn high and I’m too old for this hustle shit.” Just thinking about it hurts my brain, and my spirit is currently curled up in a ball, rocking herself obsessively while whispering, “Make her stop!”

Don’t worry, soul, I will and I am. I have decided to take the pressure off. My path to creative entrepreneurship/media empire doesn’t have to be black and white. I’m an extremist in many ways and become consumed when I desire something or someone. And although that approach has served me well professionally as the Latina Carrie Bradshaw and a radio personality, I know that I have to let go of my obsession.

So today I begin to pick the bricks off of my back to breathe. I release the fear that I am running out of time and that I have to do it all at once. I strive to find some balance to continue to do what I love as a storyteller and lover of words. It’s who I am as a middle-aged young spirit who can’t help but dream.

More from Sujeiry: Love Sujeiry TV

I’m often asked how I look so young, and I have to thank my momma and daddy for these amazing genetics. I also use rosehip oil and rosewater as part of my morning and nighttime skincare routine. Watch the video to get the 411! Don’t forget to subscribe!

Get Your Updates

A breakdown of all things Sujeiry, including books, courses, updates and freebies!

1. Love Trips is available on Amazon. Grab a copy here!

I’m sneaking in with one last plea (ok, never last) to subscribe. I’m trying to buy a house and the mortgage is too damn high!

Subscribe now

I recently got a hit of genius. As Evan digitally spray painted a canvas on his iPad with his fingertips thanks to a Sesame Street app, I realized there is always an easier way.

• Want to stop dealing with whack ass dudes you meet on POF? Get off POF.

• Want to make a higher income? Get another job or a side hustle in the meantime.

• Want to coerce a guy to marry you? Get pregnant and trap his ass. Ok, don’t do that. Just leave, girl.

As for me, I found an easy way in. I have a deep desire to launch a magazine (both online and in print) because I love words. I love how they rapidly fall from the tip of my tongue to my curved lips when my creativity is set ablaze. I love how I can craft stories with words that impact and make readers laugh - even if it’s just 100 of you. I love how easily words come to me, how I use them to share my story, and how they provide a space for readers to connect and giggle when I write the word “vage.”

Writing is my soul calling. It is my purpose. So, I decided to make the process to accomplish my dreams as easy as a stripper once collected dollar, dollar bills ya at Sue’s Rendezvous in Mount Vernon (RIP, Sue).

This here newsletter will now publish content as Latina x Love Magazine by Love Sujeiry, the first ever newsletter on all things love, dating and sex for Latinx. (Peep the name and domain change if ya don’t believe it.)

Previous to my aha moment, I had committed to this grandiose idea that Latina x Love Magazine would be a full-on blog with a bold and sassy website design. I wanted to go big or go home and then I realized that I can go big - with content. So I’m not going anywhere, dammit! I also feared that I would scare you all away with my numerous ideas and projects. Even my sister makes fun of me when asking, “So, what newsletter/Instagram account/blog are you asking people to follow now?” Older sisters, ammrite?

She’s not wrong. Like a gold digger that never has enough coin, I’ve asked you all for A LOT. I flutter from one project to the next, like a gold digger that can’t choose between five pair of Red Bottoms because she wants THEM ALL. All of my projects require my undivided attention. I wish I could clone myself, but I ain’t a sheep.

But I am a creative genius (that title is now mine, Kanye) that wants to make life easier. Here’s to taking the relationship content world by storm - again. It’s either that or knocking on Sue’s door.

Subscribe now

One last plea (ok, never last) to join the ride with a full subscription, it helps this single momma stay off the pole and off of Only Fans! (JK. Only Fans is still on the table).

Every day I delete over two dozen emails from PR companies with invites to review beauty items, become an affiliate for an online boutique, interview an actress or an author, and to share an expert's insight on relationships, sex, or self-love. It's annoying as fuck, even if I get free products or get paid to push their brand. I know, bloggers would KILL for these emails and contacts. At one point, I did too. And as the Pussycat Doll's song lyric, "Be careful what you wish for or you just might get it," runs through my head as I type, I recall how desperately I wanted to be a part of "the in crowd" of bloggers and influencers.

I remember attending BlogHer in San Diego in 2011 and pimping myself out as a love expert and blogger to no avail. Mom bloggers were in high demand and I was single and sans child. I felt rejected, defeated and determined to get a brand deal without having to get knocked up. Nothing knew for those that know me. When I'm denied I usually feel like shit before putting my game face on and shouting, "Oh, I'm going to do this. Just you wait!"

When I returned to NYC from San Diego, I researched brands and pitched myself to family-friendly blogs (Babble, Momtastic and Mamiverse) as a relationship blogger with a "single gal who desperately wants a family and a husband" spin. It was a strategic entrepreneurial move to diversify my portfolio and be seen as sellable. Real talk, when brand reps perused Love Sujeiry they'd clutch their pearls - unless they worked for Trojan. But Trojan didn't have events weekly and I wanted to be cool for the 'gram. I wanted to share (see: boast) the comings and goings of my life and for my followers to view me as a confident go-getter that is constantly elevating her game. 

I was doing the most to be successful, yes, but also for the approval of others. And that’s when things take a turn and you’re no longer creating for fun or for your business. You get ugly. You sell yourself out for that ticket to travel the world. You grow jealous of other women, friends even, that are living their life like it's golden (or so it seems). That's where I was before the emails from PR agencies drowned my Inbox. A former friend was dipping and doing it all over NYC at brand events, magazine launches, and industry parties while I watched her Instagram feed, green with envy. I wanted to support her and I did with words of encouragement, like, "I'm so happy for you!" and, “You deserve this!" all while thinking to myself, "Why not me?!" 

Ugly, I know. It’s a common outcome when coveting fame, the spotlight, and followers just to be liked and accepted.

What started as a business strategy to grow and elevate my brand turned into a life that triggered my insecurities. So, here I go, deleting emails. Here I go unsubscribing to lists that I desperately wanted to receive once upon a time. 

This isn't my tribe. This isn't what I want. And I know that I will receive exactly what I need in due time.

I’m Sujeiry, a Dominican Storyteller and Self Love Advocate, among many other things. Many of you know me simply as Love Sujeiry, a brand that I created and catapulted thanks to consistency, diligence and brand strategy.

If you’ve followed my career trajectory from the very beginning (that’s since 2006) you may have noticed a few changes along the way. Although I stuck to my brand of Latina relationship expert for quite some time, I also played with others roles, like relationship coach, career coach, radio show host, TV personality, Reality TV star, website designer, and yes, even social media manager. Just drop me in the bucket of what seems like millions of SMM’s.

Whenever my direction shifted (albeit temporarily) I plowed ahead. The first step? A redesigned website that revealed my brand revamp to the world. I’ve probably redesigned this very website about12 times since first launching it in March 2010.  If you do the math, that’s an average of 000.69 times a year. (Or maybe not. FYI: I suck at math.)

Don’t Blame it on ‘the Gram

I can blame Instagram, social conformity, and “Oooh! Look at that shiny template!” syndrome. The ‘Gram can be a dangerous place. Often I felt green with envy when met with a pastel color preset and perfectly curated feeds. And I don’t even like pastels!

Although these picture-perfect feeds did cause many mini identity crises,’ the Gram isn’t fully at fault. My constant change of direction stemmed from a fear of failure. I struggled to commit because, what if being a full-time writer didn’t pan out? Putting all my eggs in one career basket no matter how much my heart yearns for it felt so uncertain. And so I distracted myself. Because I know how to do tech shit (see: web design and spy) I emulated websites that I coveted and presented my new blog to the world with a, “It’s a brand new me! The artist formerly known as…”

Also, just an FYI: Love Trips stories will only be for paid subscribers as of this week. I pour my heart and soul as a storyteller even more so when I am sharing my personal relationship stories and pain. So, I’d love for you to become a paid subscriber to support me and my dream of being a full-time writer again.

It’s either that or stripping on the pole. Ya think strip clubs take 42 year old’s with chichos?

XOXO,

Sujeiry