Finishing the Race

It might be because the seasons are changing, or the fact that we will soon be signing off the 5 spot, but I find myself wondering “What’s next?”

You know what I mean?

Think about all the things you have planned for yourself, from the initial formation of an idea to finally accomplishing what you set out to do. It’s quite a consuming and often laborious process. I remember during my senior year so much of my time, money and energy went into preparing for prom. There was finding a dress, finding a date, finding a limo, who’s going to chip in and pay for the limo, where are we eating dinner, who’s going to fix my hair and do my make-up? And then after months of preparation it was over. Just like that. There were so many things that needed to be taken care of! All this for just one night of my life! And what came next? Well graduation, college, and life- with all of it’s bells and whistles, highs and lows, joys and sorrows.

My pastor preached an excellent sermon a few weeks ago about answered prayers and it had me floored. I won’t get all preachy with ya’ll but he talked about a couple who had prayed for a child for years and years, had defined and even labeled their lives as the childless old couple. But when they finally conceived a child, and stood face to face with no longer being barren, but fruitful parents-they didn’t know how to act. I was on the floor because initially I was like how could they react anyway other than with joy?! But then I got to thinking about myself. Much of my twenties have been marked by, and dare I say I let these twenties be defined by my situations. The money I didn’t have, the debt I did have, the degrees I didn’t have, the job I wanted, the spouse I didn’t have and on and on. And now that I am at a point where things have changed, I don’t know how to act! What is one to do when once heavy burdens are lifted, and dreams are realized and promises fulfilled? It’s almost like when the slaves toiled in the South, were abused by their captors, fought for a freedom they had distantly hoped for and when they got that freedom-some wanted to stay on pickin’ master’s cotton! And as foolish as that is, I can understand it because for so long they knew nothing else.

And as people folks we can get use to certain things. The friends that don’t treat us right. The bosses that don’t appreciate what we do. The struggle to make ends meet. The carrot we’ve keep chasing. The plans that we keep making for that one day when… But little thought goes into what to do when the ends are meet, we grab that carrot and that one day arrives. It can be scary when we to come to that place where we get all that we hope for and deserve because it’s the unknown. After struggling for so long… After being abused for so long…After being a slave for so long… now what?

But I believe that change is the one thing we can count on in this here life of ours. And I am accepting the fact that we are (well let me just speak for me-I am) continual works in progress, being and becoming our best. And once a dream is realized, even if it took nearly a decade to get there, there is no need to fear what’s going to happen next! Why? Because you deserve to cross that finish line, grab your trophy, get your photo took…and then start planning how to win the next race.

See You In Seven

Fear of Flying

So originally I was gonna write a post titled, “sometimes I wish I were a whore”, and discuss my frustration with this thing called ain’t getting none (by choice). That was gonna be the whole point of the post. But then I thought that might offend any part time whores who do read this here blog. And it might be overshare. So then I decided to write about my relationship fears/phobias/I don't know if I could handle the following:

You Told Me This Already – So in case you couldn’t tell, I’m a storyteller. And when I tell a story, I have to polish the silver, get out the china, set the table with the fine linen and napkins, make the sweet tea, pour the ice water, before I can serve you the meal. And sometimes I forget what I say. And I end up telling the same story over again. Or being like, "wait. Did I tell you this already?" And that’s a pain for the listener. But can you imagine years and years of that? I was in Bible Study last night and this couple who has been married for 57 years (57 YEARS?!?!) was in there. So the husband tells this story that even I had heard before. And there was his wife, eyes half closed, just nodding along, and I was sitting there like, “I wonder if she’s thinking, ‘If I hear this story one more daggone time.’” I halfway wanted her to jump up on the chair and be like STOP TELLING THIS STORY! IT HAPPENED TO YOU 52 YEARS AGO! WHO CARES ANYMORE? But then it was her turn and she told a story that I’m sure he had heard over and over and over. And he sat. And "listened.." And I sat in awe and amazement.

Other Couples – I love my friends. But more importantly I like my friends. Enjoy talking to them. Hanging out with them. Going on trips with them. I know all their likes, dislikes and idiosyncracies. We got this friendship thing down to a tee. But what if I don’t love or even like your friends? And yet he continues to insist that we do things with them. Dinners. Vacations. Play dates and birthday parties with their kids. One time my ex went out with his friend and left me in the house with the friend’s girl. OMG. She was one of those people who talked and talked and talked. And talked some more. And I sat there wanting to hit her in the head with a frying pan. Not to kill her or anything. Just stun her into silence. But all I had were those cheap Walmart skillets, so that was a no go. And then we started going on double dates. I could not imagine years and years of that. And yet it's kinda rude to be like, "I don't really like hanging with them," no? Cause I mean he might not like all my friends. And there I am on the phone, making plans, asking him if Friday night is good for him for a Bid Whist and fish fry night...

Other People’s Family – You know how other people think their families are the mostest? And that totally makes sense cause it’s they family. But one day my homegirl and I were at this graduation party for these two guys’ and it was mostly their family – hanging, talking, laughing and she said, “I hate other people’s families.” And I totally got it. Cause you know they have their own quirks, and inside jokes and they be lookin’ at you all up and down when you come into a room. Or taking notes on if you lack any home training. Or asking you to help peel the potatoes or clear the table. And since I’m the most unthoughtful person, I can’t imagine having to do woman’s work in the kitchen. Or trying to impress someone’s mama by doing the dishes – as I witnessed with one couple. Sometimes I secretly wish that my future husband/boyfriend/whatever be an orphan who was like raised by very, very polite wolves. And so now he’s out in the world all alone, looking for someone to love him like his mama wolf who is sadly now dead (so I don't even have to go into the woods to visit her) because they had to get rid of the wolves cause they were eating all the deer and small children and throwing nature off balance.

And because I’m the type of person who even takes the time to think of these kind of things, when it’s not even my reality – which apparently is not a good thing, one should focus on the present and not the whatifs, or the maybes, or the Lord please don't send me thats – I’m sure that God is gonna have some fun with me when he does send me someone. It’ll probably be a man with like 12 brothers and sisters, with two big mommas who are 98 and 101 respectively, who was on line with 125 other guys and is friends with all of em, who has just as many stories as I do and forgets what he tells me.

Or not. Cause I know that whatever I get, however it comes, will be exactly what I need while it might simultaneously push me outta my comfort zone. Cause the other thing the couple from Bible Study shared is how they had seen Precious the other day, in the middle of the afternoon, and how he had fallen asleep and she woke him up cause it cost $8.75 a piece ya hear, only for him to fall asleep again, and yet he still had lots of commentary about a less than 2 hour movie it sounds like he missed half of. And I found that, well - precious. And so it made all my fears and worries about my imaginary relationship seem futile. Cause from what I've observed when you get the person you're supposed to get. And you like them. Like really like them. Well you can deal with the rest. Somehow. But I'm still kinda hoping for that raised by wolves thing...

That’s my time y’all! Happy Rum Punch Friday!

W.W.C.D?

Does anyone remember the strange story that Tom Cruise’s character in the movie Collateral spoke about with the dead man on the subway not being noticed? Well Philly just told a similar story last week. Read this…

Police charge man in Philly subway hammer attack
Police have arrested a man suspected of brutally attacking a dozing subway passenger with a hammer while other riders did nothing to stop the assault, the city's police commissioner said Wednesday.

Thomas Scantling, 26, of Philadelphia, was charged with attempted murder, aggravated assault and related charges, police said.

Scantling, who was taken into custody in a mental institution late Tuesday, has a lengthy record of rape and other convictions, Police Commissioner Charles Ramsey said on NBC's "Today."

The victim was treated and released from a hospital.

Ramsey criticized other riders for standing by when the assailant entered the train with his 5-year-old son, directed the boy to a seat, calmly pulled a hammer from a backpack and attacked a man dozing in a nearby seat.

At least 10 other riders were in the car, yet no one interfered as the attacker repeatedly struck the victim in the train car and later out on a platform, Ramsey said on "Today."

"They better pray they're never a victim, because if someone was attacking them that way they would certainly hope someone would step forward and help, and it starts with stepping forward and doing something yourself," Ramsey said.

Police trying to generate tips released surveillance video Monday showing the early Sept. 4 assault that was played repeatedly on Philadelphia television stations.

Authorities said Scantling was apprehended after family members called police. It was not immediately clear if he had an attorney.

"He has a long criminal history including rape, robbery, assault, narcotics violations," Ramsey said.

Scantling apparently had tried to hurt himself with the hammer following the attack on the subway. Family members said they were not initially aware of the attack, but had Scantling committed to the mental institution where he was taken into custody.

The victim, 20-year-old Dewayne Taylor, made his own way to a hospital and was treated for head and neck injuries. Taylor, who has been released from the hospital, said Tuesday he has no idea who the attacker is or why he was targeted.

This incident really managed to spark a lot of conversation. Besides the fact that I use that same subway system twice a day, five days a week and this story scared the mess out of me, there was a lot of discussion as to why nobody helped the victim.

Which then led me to think “What would Courvoisier do?” (W.W.C.D?)

Well I am not going to lie and say I would have stepped in because I wouldn’t have. But I do believe I would have called the police on my cell phone. This incident wasn't reported until eight hours later, when the victim called the police. And if you watch the video I linked in the header, you will see there were quite a few witnesses and not one person stepped forward. That truly makes the island gal in me sad.

Think about it what would you have done?
We know what Jesus would do.

Happy Monday y’all.
Peace

Some Thoughts Towards Tomorrow

My coworker, a white gay man, visits his grandmother who is 100 years old every other weekend. Now he’s from west bubble Florida where mosquitoes and ‘gators run swamps, and people drink from mayonnaise jars…so its not a stretch for me to assume that when Ms. Granny was less wrinkled racism was alive and well. Okay, let me edit that, I know racism still is alive and well, but back then I can assume a Negro couldn’t walk down the street without rocks being thrown at them or even being spat upon. Coworker has never stated that Granny rode with the knights of the klan or lobed rocks at anyone, but he has said that she has a problem with black people so I need to get images of a sweet old lady out my mind…this chick is ornery at best. She currently has a room by herself because she’s made countless roommates cry. At her old nursing home it was common place that the N word would slip as her often black (or even worse Haitian and Jamaican) nurses would come to wipe her butt. And as coworker tells me these tales I can’t help but chuckle at the fact that the very people that Granny hated and despised are now the ones who are helping to keep her in the land of the living. Ha. Ha. Ha. I guess karma is a b*tch!

But his stories about his beloved granny often get me thinking about that future that looms ahead. I wonder who is going to take care of me when I’m old and wrinkled? I’m going to be sharp, or will my family gather around a woman who hardly remembers? Am I putting out good things in the universe so I don’t end up abused in a home some place? Does it even matter if I put good things out there? These things I ask as I contribute to my 401K plan and try to live my life young and carefree.

But the cares are growing.

I hear my coworker share that nurses dropped her father again and now his arm is broken. Another coworker told me about how his mother’s clothes were taken from her room. And just yesterday my mom tells me that one of my grandmother’s sisters has gone blind. The other has just had a stroke. And still another can hardly get out of bed in the morning due to her arthritis is acting up. All three live in one house with only my grandmother coming to check on them and telling them they need to turn on the air conditioning because it’s 83 degrees in the house, but they sat not noticing the heat.

I guess I just worry about what’s going to happen to me. And before then I wonder how I am going to care for my parents? I’m an only child, they are divorced and there is no longer a community of caring people who I could trust to check in on them, take them a dinner plate or even drive them to the doctor while I’m at work or living hundreds of miles away. Something has failed. What happened to that village that strengthened the weak spots in our lives?

Today I can laugh at a racist old lady horrified of being touched by black folks day in and day out… but tomorrow? Yeah, I just don’t know what’s gonna happen then.

See You in Seven

Crumbling Bricks

I love him. I love him not... I love him. I love him not...

I don't want to love him because I ain't got time for such matters right now. I'm mad busy trying to get my life in order. Maintaining a healthy lifestyle and getting my body back in shape, looking for a new job, figuring out what I want to do with my life, identifying my dreams and taking steps to follow them... In a nutshell- working on ME. It's a full time gig times 3.

At the beginning of this year I met a brother whom I was instantly attracted to. I'm not sure how to describe it but the initial attraction was not physical. It was chemical, almost, if that makes any sense. He had this vibe about him that I had never encountered before and yet it felt entirely too familiar. I wrote it off as him just being a charismatic person and didn't give it too much more thought. On several occasions, he invited my homegirl and I to attend social events that either he or his friends were hosting. We mostly socialized in group settings with a quick phone call or email here or there. One night, we sat on the phone for two hours and talked about any and everything and nothing. It was then that I realized I liked him.

Now before I go any further with these [personal] thoughts, I'd like to point out that there have been many men that I have met, had great conversations with, had a couple of nice dates with, and then never called again because they just didn't do it for me. It doesn't take long for me to decide on whether or not a brother will get the boot. I don't need to kiss you, or ingage in any other intimate acts, to decide. I don't entertain a man's company just to ward off a little loneliness or to partake of a free meal/outing. And if I really need to get my rocks off I already have potential maintenance men, therefore the services of a stranger (read: guy I just met) are not needed.

Back to the story. So one day, about three months ago, I called brother man and asked if he'd like to join me at a sports bar to watch a basketball game. He was down and suggested we check out a band that was playing that night. We did both. What I anticipated to be an evening of fun turned into a 24 hour whirlwind of our energies merging. In every sense of the word. Mind sex with him is so powerful... it only further enhances any physical contact that may occur. And I had not felt such passion in years. No really. Y-e-a-r-s. My last serious relationship lacked passion. It was nice, loving, safe, and comfortable. But not passionate.

Sometimes I wonder if we fell in love that day and it just took us the next three months to understand what went down and believe that the shit was possible. Well, part of me is still not ready to believe. Guess that's why I am typing this post. Or maybe me typing this post is helping me to better understand what the hell I have gotten myself into...

I'm sure by now you're wondering why I would be bothered by what seems to be such a sweet thing. I have been blessed to share a slice of my life with a man who loves life, is hardworking, and has a good heart. He's smart as hell and very talented. He's generous and respectful and has been very good to me. He understands this storm within; most who I encounter never will. And he recently told me that his life is too complicated and that he's got too much going on to be able to give me the kind of undivided attention and love I deserve.

Not only am I not mad at him, I respect his honesty. I am only mad at myself for getting caught up, way more than I realized. My intentions have always been to simply enjoy what we had going on and ride it out. To enjoy it while it lasted. See I thought I was doing a good job of keeping my heart on lock. Until we had a conversation yesterday about loving each other. And while he was very open with me, I would not allow myself to reciprocate the feeling. I'm sure he could read my face but I my lips were frozen in fear. Talk about vulnerability in rare form.

He and I have been discussing an "exit strategy", regarding the way in which our relationship has progressed and our choice to shift its gears due to the circumstances. Why should I even entertain the notion of love if it will not or cannot be transmitted to the intended receptor? And why the hell didn't he just keep his mouth shut and let me continue to live in denial? Now I have to actually think about it.

It's easier to let go if I love him not.

My head hurts. Other organs shall soon follow suit.

Tumultuously Yours,

Dark & Stormy

Who Chose Who

Last week, I became quite enthralled by the comments that followed a post over at verysmartbrothas.com about why women should or should not approach men they are interested in. Many comments forced me to quickly glance at the calendar to remind myself that the current year is indeed 2008. Ultimately I arrived to the following conclusion:

Is it really that serious?

In the 200+ comments to the post, the majority of both men and women said that they felt men should always do the approaching. One chick went so far as to say it doesn't matter if a woman catches a man staring [in that obvious "I wanna get wit you" way] and admiring, the woman should not budge or speak until ole' boy steps up to the plate. Coincidentally, she's single.

Another comment read:

"I like for men to initiate first because if I do it and get into a relationship with them, its most likely that I will be making all the decisions instead of as a couple. Men have gotten real lazy nowadays. We have to give birth to their kids, clean the house, cook dinner, etc. Now we have to ask them out???? I'm sorry but that's not my job."

Wow... Slow ya roll sista. She made a jump from initiating conversation/contact with a brother to getting into a relationship with a lazy man who is incapable of making decisions. Is it that serious? How many first impressions/conversations/dates lead to a relationship? Millions more don't than do. Is this how sistas are thinking these days? You see a dude strolling down the street and you start admiring his swag and his tight sneakers... You start to smile at him, then you stop yourself because you start thinking "if I initiate this won't be no time before homie moves his unemployed ass into my house, running up my light bill and eating up all my food."

You may think I'm reaching far here, but just yesterday I watched the women I was dining with rag on some brothas for wearing a crisp white T to a casual restaurant for Sunday brunch. These were some clean looking men, nothing scrubby about them... Coulda been law students out getting their grub on before heading back to the library. Or maybe they were checking out a few open houses in the neighborhood (most are on Sundays) and got hungry while house hunting. Maybe we are worrying about the wrong things and missing out on the good shit while doing so?

Before I get off subject, which is fairly easy for me, let me clarify what kind of initiation I feel is acceptable. If I see a man that catches my attention, why wait for him to approach me? What is so wrong with me approaching him and starting a conversation? Maybe his mind was occupied with something or he just wasn't facing my direction... Just because he hasn't approached me doesn't mean he is not interested or would not be interested once he knew I actually existed. I can make my presence known, and possibly my interest, with a smile here and a giggle there...

If Mr. Man wants this convo to go any further, then he knows what to do to make that happen. I'm not going to ask him for his number or when I can see him again. Me chasing him is not an option. But ain't nothing wrong with tossing a lil' incentive his way just to get the ball rolling.

If we were discussing pursuing a career or finding your dream home or going back to school for an advanced degree, everyone would be like go get yours. But when it comes to a man, we [women] are supposed to sit back and wait for him to magically roll in with the afternoon tide? Why not go get yours? Are we so afraid of rejection that we'd let a possibly good thing pass just to save face?

When you meet a happy couple, doing the damn thing and holding it down for each other, have you ever asked them "who chose who?"

Exactly. 'Cause it ain't that serious.


Tumultuously Yours,
Dark & Stormy


(Inspired by vsb's post found here http://www.verysmartbrothas.com/f-sadie-hawkins/)

Bombs Over D.C.

I woke up at 6 o'clock this morning to the loud sounds of an object flying overhead; hovering so low that I thought it would clip the roof of my building. It scared the shit out of me. I jumped out the bed and sprinted to the window to see what the hell was going on. It was a helicopter circling my neighborhood with persistence and intent. The chop chop sounds were echoing through my open window. My first thought was the police are looking for somebody. I don't live in a neighborhood where such activity is the norm, but anything is possible.

My second thought was we're being attacked.

Sounds crazy, right? I know that given our wonderful quality of life here in the U.S., it is quite easy for many of us to forget that this country is currently at war. Sure we get updates on the news about the latest battles and their casualties and every couple of months there's yet another protest here in the Nation's Capital, but the sad truth is that we (Americans) can go on for days at a time without one thought to the war because it ain't happening in our backyard.

Which is why my paranoia this morning was a great shock to me. In retrospect, I am surprised at how serious my thoughts were of possibly being under attack. I can usually find humor in anything, but I'm still not amused about this right 'chere. My heart was thumping so hard I thought I would choke on the beats. As I searched the sky for answers, my eyes danced around and darted back and forth like a fiend looking for their next fix. I switched the TV on and started flipping between each station for answers. There was talk of high gas prices, three shootings over the weekend, Obama playing hoops in Indiana, and the D.C. Madam's supposed suicide last week. Nothing about my helicopter from hell.

I started thinking about Gil Scott-Heron's famous words, "the revolution will not be televised". But didn't they show the 9/11 attacks on TV all around the world? And speaking of the 9/11 attacks- citizens of the United States realized we weren't quite as invincible as we thought we were on September 11, 2001. So maybe I had real reasons to be so paranoid... I thought about my mom and how I had to get to her as soon as possible. She may be the parent but I feel obligated to protect her at all times. I wondered if my dusty boombox in the closet took C or D batteries and checked my cell phone to make sure it was still working. I started regretting the box of dried goods that I recently donated to a local food drive, thinking now I may be the one who needed them.

Then I stopped and thought to myself "come on, this could never happen to us". Or could it?

Imagine living in Kabul or Baghdad, where people wake up to similar sounds every day. Imagine standing in the kitchen, stirring your pot of greens, when suddenly the floor shakes from another missile attack 1/2 mile down the road. Or sitting in the den, playing Xbox with your homie, and sirens start wailing in the streets to warn of imminent danger. Picture two women kicking it on the front porch each with glass of wine, exchanging stories of good times, when three troops run by on foot with machine guns in their hand on their way to the next raid. Real people live like this.

It is so easy to forget how blessed we are. So easy to forget how easy our lives are. And sometimes I even wonder, why I am so lucky and not the next person? How did I get saved from such an existence?

At 6:07 AM, I realized my sleep had been interrupted by a traffic helicopter.

I pray that I am always mistaken.


Tumultuously Yours,
Dark & Stormy

Red Light, Green Light

Or maybe we can see a movie, or maybe we can see a play on Saturday
Or maybe we can roll a tree and feel the breeze and listen to a symphony
Or maybe chill and just be or maybe…
Maybe we can take a cruise or listen to The Roots
Or maybe eat some passion fruit or maybe cry to the blues…

- A Long Walk, Jill Scott


I’ve done all that and then some. Basketball game, drinks at happy hour, live jazz show, shooting pool… Dates. That’s what I’m talking about. Lots and lots and lots of dates. Most of them have been enjoyable. Every once and a while, I’m interested enough to agree to a second (or third) date. On occasion, I have to flex on a brotha for not coming correct. But up until this very moment, they all eventually end up the same way.With me still being single.

I’ve been single for about 15 months now. What bothered me most about when ole’ boy and I broke up was that I’d have to get back “out there.” Back out there again fishing in that damn sea. Where I never know what my hook may catch… A dead fish, or a rotten one, a baby fish, or maybe one that’s too heavy to reel in. Got to be careful ‘cause every fish ain’t meant to be fried.

I started off in a rut but lately my dating life has picked up speed. I could attribute the change to many factors but I think one is most prominent. My willingness to be more open minded about the offers for dates I receive. In the past couple of months, I have basically said yes to every guy who asked me out. Within reason, of course. There’s always the occasional no-brainer no nos. The dude who lives with his baby mama but proclaims they’re not together, they’re just saving money by sharing household expenses. [Riiiiiiight]. Or the man who’s living with his parents and he’s over the age of thirty [I just can't do it]. Sorry but they get no chance. But by taking a chance on going out with men I might not usually consider attractive (physically or otherwise) or my type, I have had the opportunity to discover new things about myself while sharpening my definition within of a suitable partner. A realistic one.

Now for clarification, I am talking about dating not gettin it on. Every date need not end up back at my crib or his. They ain’t all worthy of this here lovin. And that’s a lil too much risky business for me anyhow.

I fell upon this blog and thought the author’s idea was quite nifty. A young black woman in her twenties starts a year of yes – saying yes to every guy who asks her out and sharing her dating escapades in her blog entries. She was inspired by Maria Dahvana Headley’s book The Year of Yes. Now though the young lady did not maintain posting on a regular basis, I thought that the idea was hot. It takes guts to step out of the comfort zone and switch up your routine with something new. One day recently, I told Rum Punch about the year of yes and how I seemed to have inadvertently adopted this practice.

And then Amaretto’s post last week made me revisit this thought. I understand her position on dating and I’m trying hard to keep hope alive for myself, Amaretto, and the rest of my sistren. Therefore I have decided continue on this "yes" path that I have chosen. It may work and it may not. Only one way to find out.

In the weeks (or months) to follow, I will include brief updates on my experiences and encounters during my year of yes. I am already laughing hard as I think of the possibilities…


Tumultuously Yours,

Dark & Stormy

Wading in Water

In a recent conversation with Rum Punch I revealed that I did not feel like dating anymore. I don’t know how she was able to suppress her laughter knowing that I haven’t exactly been on 100 dates like a friend of ours has claimed. But she went on to name the specific opportunities she suggested that I could meet new people and where I repeatedly and vehemently declined to go. With this I realized that I haven’t earned the right to lament about the dating climate for the black woman. Oh how easy it has been for me to sneak on the Strong Black Woman, and sometimes even the Angry Black Woman bandwagons where they welcomed, assumed and encouraged me to shout! I’ve carried the torches that incited many a conversation about how there ain’t no decent, educated, working, childless, single-like really, honestly and truly single-Black men out here. But really what do I know? I’ve only stepped into the dating waters a few times and ran ashore before I could feel how warm the water eventually becomes when you stay in it.

But you know what part of my problem is ya’ll?

Well maybe I should pluralize problem because it’s an extensive report complete with indexes, addendums and yellow sticky notes attached. But, aside from my reoccurring daydream that Mr. Right will fall from the sky and instantly be smitten and ready to wed…I dread those first conversations. Some people want to get money quick and I want to hurry up and get to the comfortable silences, the assumed weekend plans and the pet names. I know that period of caring and sharing until the wee hours of the morning is necessary before the relationship commences-and with the right person it makes missed sleep totally worth it. But with the boring, weird, wanna be playa, mentally slow, thugged-out and possibly gay (but he doesn’t know it yet) person it’s hard for a girl not to sigh over missed sleep and start dreading the getting-to-know-you process.

In the years since my Best Relationship Ever ended (please note years) I’ve had the chance to glorify that time in my mind. Another one of my problems, clearly it wasn’t that great since it’s ova right? This relationship was the first time that I let myself go. Just tossed caution to the wind. Turned a blind eye to the obvious signs of impending drowning. I lived and loved in the moment. I got real deep in ya’ll. But when it was over I was beyond heartbroken… And maybe that’s why I’ve been holding back, avoiding the dating waters for any reason, no matter how stupid. Just afraid of feeling that hurt and that cold again.

So I’m doing what a lot of women do and filling the relationship void with something else. Some of us use children, religion, knitting, promiscuity…and for me it’s my Movie Guy. Another problem. Anyone else keeping count? My good ole reliable, just drop by on a Sunday night to watch Brother & Sisters with me Movie Guy. Someone who I can share my closeted love of the Red Hot Chili Peppers-which he gets because he’s letting me borrow his cd. We’ve been friends since high school so there are plenty of comfortable silences, heated arguments and weekend plans…but there is no future here. Knowing he’s no threat to my heart, Movie Guy has been a life preserver that's kept me safe during my time of healing… and still now. And that’s a not good thing anymore.

And there are more problems that I could list…but the ones I’ve mentioned have helped create and nurture fear. My big ole paralyzing fear that I try to brush off and ignore. But really, I don’t want to end up a spinster feeding a legion of cats…reminiscing about a love from decades past... becoming the neighborhood old crazy lady. So I’m choosing to walk toward, go in and stay in that water. Singing…

Wade in the Water. Wade In the Water Children. Wade in the Water.
God’s gonna trouble the water.
I stepped in the water and the water was cold.
God’s gonna trouble the water.
It chilled my body but not my soul!
…While I swim

See You in Seven