Sometimes I wonder what I’m thinking when I do the things I do. Do you ever look back on some situations or relationships and ask just what purpose they served in your life? At this very moment, I think I see a purpose already though. Time will do that though.
There was this guy whom I went to college with, who was also from my city. I loved talking to him because he was always a reminder of home. As freshman who lived five hours away from home with no car, he was the closest thing besides an Amtrak, that could get me to it. Neither of us could relate the new culture of the college town, we reminisced about our high schools’ rivalry and talked in code (slang that only we knew).
Four years passed and we watched each other grow up. Him: From a lowly crab in the band to crossing into a fraternity and getting a steady girlfriend (even though she was crazy). From just a local hometown boy to one of the “revolutionary” dudes who always kept it real and had laughs for days. Me: From a somewhat green studious chick to a best all around chick, who was always on the scene and down for a party anytime. From a typical only-child to a student government representative with plenty of “adopted” brothers and sisters and sorors.
We both changed, but we still stayed the same.
One night, my roommate asked me why did we date each other. My response, “Who, Brandon? Girl, please, that’s my homeboy.” And I meant that.
It wasn’t until after we both graduated and I saw him at a football game that I saw him in another light. My brown skin is poppin, but I guess that day, I was transparent. They say that men can sense when a women is feeling them so maybe that was it. We exchanged numbers even though he lived in another city (I moved back home) and talked semi-frequently. He immediately told me that he’d always liked me, but the timing wasn’t right and he wasn’t sure of what I would say.
One thing about me is I strongly believe in borders, parameters, lines, areas. For whatever reason, I think once a friend, always a friend. Vice versa, ya know? It was hard to grasp that and even harder, believe it. I knew all of his dirt and secrets. I was still unsure. I was unsure how I felt about him. Nevermind that I would light up when I saw his name on my phone. Nevermind that I could laugh until I cried with him. Nevrmind that I secretly loved the text messages he would send once he decided to pursue me.
I like him. No doubt about it. But I still saw him as The Friend.
He moved back home a couple of years later and one day, I decided to visit him. Out of nowhere he kissed me (I don’t know why I was surprised) and it was awesome. We held on to each other tight. He told he didn’t want to let me go–ever. I was content just standing there holding him, inhaling the same air as he. We didn’t go there, but I wanted to. You know me and my lines, borders and parameters though. I hate to confuse relationships with sex, but he clearly brought something else out of me. That “other light” was shining brightly through the windows of his apartment and it forced me to look and really see him. I guess how he’s always seen me.
All good, right? There’s a catch to every story…he was in an “it’s complicated” relationship. Did I know that before? Yes and no. And yes, there was guilt about it. I didn’t know what to do with my emotions, so usual, I tucked them away. I fell back almost totally until he called me out on my bullshit. “You’re hard to figure out,” is what he said. I couldn’t argue with that.
My women’s intuition never leads me astray, so I don’t know why I was so hurt and angry when his girlfriend called my cell phone inquiring about the dynamics of our relationship. I immediately considered him a lost cause as a friend and more than a friend. I didn’t talk to him for maybe four months.
It was July and I’d just moved into my new apartment. I was lonely. I am a shonuff believer that if you ask for something enough, God will grant it. Be it good or bad for you. How ironic that he texted me that same day that I thought about him. Later that night, he was in my apartment. As usual, I didn’t expect anything to happen and it didn’t–for a while. Who was I kidding, huh?
He had the most beautiful body I’d ever seen. Before I knew it, he was laying my arms, caressing me, planting sweet kisses all over me. For like 10 seconds, in my mind, he was my man. Not someone else’s. He’d told me they were over, but I still didn’t believe him. The next morning, I quickly came to my senses and shut him out. No goodbye kisses or plans to get together that night. I could tell he was looking for something from me. A yea or nea on whether we could be, but I don’t share men and I wouldn’t want another woman to share mine. My last reply to him as he got in his car was, “I’ll call you.”
I didn’t.
To be continued….
The Venting Room 