Transitions December 17, 2008

I am a self-proclaimed dreamer. Maybe that’s why I have this knack for writing–because I’ve always had an imagination. In 1993, I had a daydream, ahem, fantasy about Jon Jon from Silk that was so real, you couldn’t tell me I didn’t just marry him and run off into the sunset to be an R&B wife. I have envisioned myself flipping through the pages of Essence and Vibe Magazine to find my name in the byline of some hot interview. I have imagined myself lounging on the beach with sand in between my toes without a care in the world.

I have also imagined myself being with you. For real. Not for play-play.

You are a dreamer, too. That’s what I love about you, but there is a disconnect. After all this time, it has become quite clear that this thing we have (whatever it is, I’m not sure) probably will not be a dream realized. Yes, we have chemistry and we can pick up from weeks, to months to years, and talk like we just hung up the phone. Yes, the sex is lovely(could it be because it doesn’t happen often?). Yes, I knew shortly after spending time with you that I had quickly fallen in love with you. Yes, I suspect the same thing happened to you. We have this thing that is so right, yet so dysfunctional.

I’m getting older and I don’t have time to waste like I did when I was 22. No, it’s not the end of the road for me either, but it’s time for some consistency and stability in my life. I don’t think you can offer that. I would like to think that you want to offer that, but it’s not in your power right now. See how I’m still making excuses for you?

I know your favorite color is blue. You sister recently had a baby. Shit like that.

You know I’m a writer, but have you ever read anything I’ve written? Have I ever even had the opportunity to share any of my writing with you?

No. You don’t and never had given me a chance. Your philosophy is our time together is so special so we have to focus on that. And I agree. I bask in it. We bask in it because neither of us know when it will happen again. And in the process, I forget about all of the other things that are important in a relationship. You knowing me and me knowing you.

I’m tired of second-guessing myself and trying to figure you out. It wasn’t my plan years ago to do this. Love is not supposed to be confusing, or so they say, and frankly, I’ve got other shit to do.

Good Girl Going Bad? December 17, 2008

I’m a good girl. Always have been. Blame it on my Mama. She scared me so much that the mere thought of her “talking me to tears” was enough to keep me from doing almost anything wrong. No bad grades, no back-talk to teachers (well, except for my male teachers. I have always had a problem with male authority figures.), no sneaking boys in my room (I like actually living.), no rebellious stuff against my parents, no weed (didn’t even experiment in college, but hung around mad smokers and sellers). Oh, alcohol was another story, but I was 18 by then. I missed the tatto/piercing phase as a college freshman. There’s something about permanency that bothers me! I even waited until the ends of the earth to have sex for the first time.

I guess you could say I was pretty square to an extent.

My good girl behavior has held true even as I have crossed over into “Grown-Ass Woman” adulthood. But you know, sometimes I wanna be bad.

Whenever someone describes me, the words “classy” and “sophisticated” are shelled out. That’s wonderful. I consider them compliments because every woman just doesn’t have it like that. BUT.Though it’s so not my style, I want to take sexy pics with my phone and send them to my on/off again Boo. Show him what he’s been missing. Sometimes, I want to talk dirty, give somebody The Eye. You know the one that says, “Come get me NOW!” Be the aggressor like what Usher was talking about in “Trading Places.”

Don’t get me wrong, I know how to the do the sexy thing. Hell, I am sexy ( got a few folks who could vouch for me, too)! I know sexiness can be exuded just by walking down the street in silence, but it takes a lot for that to come out of me, as far as me doing it purposely.

So I guess I mean classy sexy vs NASTY sexy. That’s it!

I’m wondering when will side of me (everyone has one, not just Beyonce’) come out. She’s struggling to come out at my old age. I have a few secrets that make me not as goody-goody as one might think, but they’re secrets for a reason.

(Sigh) I’ll let you know how that turns out.

Ain’t I A Woman? December 15, 2008

It’s going to be a long week. I can see it now. I’m so ready to go and I have three hours left. It’s supposed to ice up or snow tonight. The kids are out of school early, so I guess that’s a dead giveaway.

I really need to get on it. I’m about to move forward with my pre-2009 honesty campaign. I mean, this shit is crazy. I was at a sorority function the other night and I thought to myself, “Sometimes I feel less than a woman.” Crazy, right? Let me explain.

I’m damn-near 30 and I have not experienced some things or do some things that I think a woman should do. Sure, I have the feelings of a woman. I want to be in the prescence of a man. I want to feel loved and cared for and respected. I work a full-time job and have many responsibilities. Yet, these three things are going to blow your mind:

I’ve never been in a long-term, sustaining relationship: I’m sure I know how to take care of a man, but I’ve never really had to. I’m not used to having a man around 24/7, so I guess I’m kind of clueless. I usually just date and move on. I’m not saying that womanhood is dependent on being with a man. Hellz no.  This one is kind of hard to explain, so I’ll just leave it alone.

I don’t cook: If you’re having a party, most likely I’m bringing the drinks or the bread (if you need any). Spinach dip? Nope. Hot wings? Nah. Dressing? Uh-uh. I’m not saying I can’t cook, but I’m saying that I don’t. I don’t care to cook for myself, much less anyone else. I never cultivated those homemaker skills. I would much rather marry a man who cooks. But it still seems that I should be the one doing it. However, I can clean like no other! From top to bottom. Guess that doesn’t take a genius though.

I don’t have children: Keep in mind that I know I’m not ready for nor want children at this time. But still…

That’s about it. Maybe it’s my nearing 30 and being single and childess, which a GREAT thing actually. Everything happens in its own time. Especially the cooking!

The Advice December 4, 2008

Elusive. That’s the word she used to describe him. Elusive means unable to be caught or isolated. As much as it hurts admit it, she was dead-on.

“She” is my mother, Knower of All. For the first time, I told her about him last year around this time. She told me I was in love with him. Just by looking at me, she could tell. I don’t think in about three years, I’d even admitted it to myself, let alone anyone else. So a year later (today), she calls me at work and asks me why am I down in the dumps. I didn’t think she noticed, but who am I kidding? She knows everything. I am down in the dumps, but I didn’t want her to know that, so I perked up and said, “I’m not down. I’m fine.” I know it sounds so convincing, right? She asks if I saw him again after Friday. I tell her the truth for once and say no. There was no need to. Friday was enough.

Out of nowhere, she has the talk that I guess I’ve been wondering all my life who it would be about and when it would happen. The “You-Don’t-Need-Him” talk.

“You gotta let that boy go. You will pass by the man God will send you because you can’t let him go.”

Tears began to run down my face because I know it’s true, but for some reason it means so much more coming from her. I simply say, “I know.”

She goes on to say we’re in two different places and the reason why I want him is because I can’t have him. But, “don’t fool around and get him, hear?” I know what she means when she says that. Perhaps she’s speaking from experience this time. I’m trying, oh so hard, to take heed to the advice she’s giving me.

But it’s hard, even though I know she’s right.

Even in my wildest dreams, I can’t see us being together. Not in “real life”. He and I both would have to make some major life changes. That is SO not happening. So, I have to ask myself what is it that makes me fall back into this hole again and again? She must be thinking the same thing because she also asks what it is about him that I can’t shake. I don’t know! If I did, I wouldn’t have this problem.

“God won’t let you have him, that’s why you can never get to him. If it’s supposed to be, he’ll come to you.”

Silence. I was fighting back more tears. Thank God this was over the phone, instead of in person. I probably would have broken all the way down.

In traditional fashion, I say, “Okay” and we soon hang up.

Reality check.

Knocked Off My Game December 1, 2008

Ask and ye shall receive. Yep, I believe in that saying. Sometimes even if it’s not good for us in the long run, we get it anyway. Because we wanted it and asked for it.

I saw him this weekend. I knew in my heart that I would. And every time I do, I promise myself that things will be different. That either I will be mad as hell like I should be whenever he pops back into my life or I will tell him that I’m in love with him. Or that after we do our thing, I’ll be okay. Not want to talk to him. Maybe this time he will stay in my life, be consistent and do what I think should be done when you supposedly really care about someone. I will tear down some of these walls that he contributed to help me build because for once I want to really be myself. Not be afraid of love and affection. Be able to be wide open. How is it possible that the very person who caused me to be this way is the one I want to change for? Even when he doesn’t change for me?

It’s not fair. But life isn’t fair.

Right now I’m stuck between hating the choices I made this weekend, but loving the experience and the time we spent. He is a work in progress, but the progress is too slow for me. I’m finally getting sick of this soap opera we’ve been playing in for so long. And it hurts surprisingly. I still want him in my life. Some parts of him. But I need all or nothing.

When he kissed me it felt like the first time we kissed. Indescribable. His touch and how gentle he is with me. Unparalleled.

What what about everyting else though?

So now for the first time in my life, I think I am lovesick. How crazy is that? I don’t really want to eat. All I want to do is sleep and not think about him. I think it’s completely unfair how you can feel a way about someone without them even knowing it.

This has to stop and I’m the only person who can stop it.