32B's Blog

…where I write my words

Religious Differences

I have a story and it goes a little something like this: I met this guy.  Cute guy.  Older guy.  Educated guy.  Witty guy.  Funny guy.  A decent guy.  I was intrigued by this guy and wanted to know more about this here guy but was shocked when this same guy told me how beautiful I am but we would never work because of one small issue but good luck in finding my right guy.  Come again?!  So, I asked him if he would be so kind as to tell me what this small issue might be.  Is it because I have kids and he does not?  Is it because I am slim and he might like them thick?  Is it because I’m short and he might desire a tall one?  He tells me our religious differences will make this impossible to pursue since I believe in Jesus and he does not.  “Polar opposites” was his exact wording.  He even added, to show he has either tried in the past or is great at making assumptions, that Christian women do not want to be with him but good luck on my ventures to which I hesitantly replied, “Likewise”.  End of conversation.

Never have I thought about religious difference because, truth be told, I am not a devout Christian.  I follow the principles and commandments I want to or feel I can follow.  Everything else I store in the “Grace” file cabinet knowingly until that “feel” part of me changes.  I usually look for the same attributes in guys that I never ask about their religious or spiritual beliefs.  Does it make that much difference?  I know the Bible says Christians should not be “equally yoked” and I have had that line explained to me to the point of exhaustion but I do not pay it any attention.  Maybe I am just completely defiant.  Maybe I am just completely free-spirited.  Maybe I do not like restrictions.  Maybe I do not like to place my opportunities in a box.  Or, maybe I like to think our differences are not to our detriment.  Why can’t our differences be a positive?

He never said what his religious beliefs are but I did make my Christianity known like I made it known that I’m 30 years old and I like chocolate – nonchalantly.  Then there was the question of how “serious” I am about my faith.  All things aside, I truly believe I am shit up a creek if I denounce my faith because I truly believe this is the only path to salvation – for me.  For me, I am serious in where I stand and on what I stand.  For him, I am sure he feels the same about his faith.  So, what if I dated a non-Jesus follower?  Would I spend every Christmas without him or would I even be allowed to celebrate Christmas in our home?  Would our children automatically follow his religion, my religion, or would the option to teach them both sides allowing them to choose as adults be on the table?  Do I pray over meals when he is not around or am I offending him?  Is the very presence of my Bible an insult to him or would his book (if there is one) insult me?  Would it be that bad?

I have always dated Christian men.  Right, I did date a Muslim guy once who knew I was a Christian.  I knew when he went to his temple or synagogue (I am really not sure what it is called) for prayer.  I knew when he fasted.  I knew what he did and did not eat.  And I knew how he felt about Jesus – trust me, he made it clear and often depending on his mood.  But, never once did I do the same.  Chalk it up to naivety, but I did not out of respect for his decision to choose and my decision to respect that decision whether I agreed or not.  It is not my salvation.  Sounds selfish but that is why the world is in turmoil right now – this idea that one group must “save” the other when the other clearly does not want the others’ savior.  At what point do you say “fuck this shit” at evangelism for Christians?  At what point do you choose peace over highlighting who may or may not be right?  At what point do you opt for civil humanity and trying to survive this life together while we are still alive?  At what point does religion not mean anything?  At what point do we let peace, humanity, respect, and freedom reign?  At what point do we decide to peacefully co-exist or decide to segregate ourselves into “them” and “us”?  At what point does the blatant disgust no matter how rude and insensitive boil over and kill us all in a game I like to call “My religion is Right and I Will Prove, where’s My Bomb?”

Love is absent and love suffers.  Not just the kind between a man and a woman on an intimate level but the kind between human beings.  I am disgusted that my religious beliefs were an automatic disqualification for a date when, prior to learning about my faith, I was a dream come true (in my own words lol).  I thought about retracting what I said even stating that my faith was mutable but who am I fooling?  This world is a messed up place and I am disgusted every single day that religion gets in the way.  In the past, it was race.  What will it be in the future?

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October 19, 2010 Posted by | Life | , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Am I There?

“If you’re not sure you are there then you aren’t” -Denisha

I have spent all day today asking questions about one thing in particular because I am not sure I am there yet.  I used to think I knew where I was until I looked up and realized nothing around me looked or felt familiar.  I used to think I knew how I felt until one day I realized I did not feel that anymore or not as strongly.  I used to think I was ready until I got right up close on it and realized I had only hoped to be ready by now.  Within my time on my schedule and according to my plans is always the perfect recipe for disaster, failure, and disappointment.  Honestly, it is the only certain thing I can completely count on.  You should know something with certainty before you reveal it to the world or your personal world however small it may be.  But, when do I ever know anything with complete, half, or minute certainty?  I kind of like to jump first and look second.  Not all the time – probably about 30% of the time.  The other 70% I have to look, throw something down there as a test, and then throw something heavy closer to my weight before I throw my actual self over.  I betcha once I reach my second to last minute on earth, then I will realize where I actually was in life and I betcha Love will still be as foreign to me as it is today.  I had only seen it, thought about it, heard of it, but never truly felt it.  Then, on my last minute here, I will accept that it was never meant to be.  And, with my last breath I will die with one eye open hoping it will at least see me off in death.

October 8, 2010 Posted by | Life | | Leave a comment

Flatline

I never thought I, of all people, could kill love.  Never knew it would be my hands with its blood on them.  It started out such a beautiful summer day complete with sunshine, birds singing, and a sweet breeze that teased my skin.  By the end of the day, I was watching my love flatline before my eyes. 

My fault. 
All my fault. 

The hurt in his eyes.  The glisten of wetness reflecting off his pupils.  I looked into them and saw my reflection only. 

All because of me. 

He walks toward the door.  I jump up and run after him grabbing his arm to turn his body towards me while slamming the door closed again.  Wrong I am but determined not to let him walk away from me.  Justified he is but fighting to the wire is how I want to go.  He looks into my pleading eyes but quickly looks away.  The hurt I see kills me.  What can I say?  How can I make this right? 

I begin to speak. 
To explain. 
To apologize. 
To promise. 

Never again will this happen.  Never ever again, I promise. His face is frozen in hurt with hurt.  My words are not registering.  His mind is absorbed in my crime.  His ears refuse to hear my defense.  The jury is settled on a “guilty” verdict. 

Fear grabs me. 
“Do something!”
I yell at myself
“Think woman think!”
Panic

I take his hands in mine.  He snatches them away.  My fear intensifies as I hear us flatlining.  My heart races as I suddenly hear the steady hum of his. 

Void of life. 
Void of love.  
For me. 

“Please!” leaves my lips.  He continues to look away.  I grab his hands again and wrap them around my waist.   He stands there stoic but his hands remain where I place them.  I wrap my arms around his neck.  Then drop my hands to his chin.  I turn his face to look at me.  Only for a few seconds before he looks elsewhere.  He refuses to look at me.  Refuses to hear me.  Refuses, until now, to even touch me. 

I kiss his lips. 
No reaction. 
My eyes tear up.  

“Keep trying!” I tell myself.  I kiss his lips again.  He turns his face from me.  Tears escape me.  I hold his chin between my hands and kiss again.  His lips remain frozen. 

“You love me!”
I tell him. 
“He loves me”
I remind myself. 

I start to shake him.  I hit his chest and yell it again, “you love me!”  Tears run down my face now. 

“Try again dammit!”
I yell to myself. 

I kiss him again.  No life. 
Kiss again.  No love. 

My chest burdens from crying.  His hands drop from my waist. 

I am losing him. 

I kiss again holding my lips there longer.  Then again.  And again. Again.  Then I feel a pucker.  A loud beep.  I gasped loudly with hope.  I keep my eyes closed.  No false hope.  I kiss again.  Sure enough, he has puckered his lips.  I kiss again.  He kisses me back.  Weakly.  A kiss nevertheless.  I hold his face in my hands and kiss again. 

Hungrily. 
Ravished. 
Starving. 

I rise up on my tip toes.  I hold on for dear life.  Trying to salvage it.  To breathe love for me back into his heart.  To awaken him to me once again.  His hands find their way back to my waist.  I hear another loud beep.  I exhale.  We kiss again.  He holds my waist tightly.  Another beep.  Still kissing, he kisses me back.  I feel his tongue.  Now steady beeps are heard.  I cry harder.  I keep kissing him.  He keeps kissing me. 

I am too afraid to stop. 
Fearful I will lose him again. 
That we will flatline. 
Again. 

Too much fear to revive.  Too much fear to take that chance again.  I never thought I loved so much.  Never knew I would be the one fighting so hard.  I pull away.  Look into his eyes.  Anger still there.  But gone is the glisten of tears.  I have left a scar.  But love had come back. 

To think I almost lost it.

June 25, 2010 Posted by | My Writings | , , , , | 4 Comments

My Hatred

I thought I knew who I was
until I looked my hatred in the face
She refers to you as Allah
while I simply call you God
I only know what her religion teaches
which differs greatly from my own
I accepted our differences humbly
but must acknowledge what seethed within
Her head-dress elicits my hatred
I desire to spit in her face
Water-boarding and inhumane torture
She deserves it all and much more than that
Inside I surprise even myself
but then I read/hear/see the bombs explode
I convince myself that my God shall win
while she is convinced that Allah has won
Jesus does not teach what I feel
nor will He ever condone my inner struggle
Tears well in my eyes as I admit this
knowing that God already knows the same
Hate never wins
Only Love prevails
But the definition of both words
differ as much as our beliefs
So, who is right and who is wrong?
How many more deaths and bombs?
Involved in a war without an end
shall mark the end of all wars
My God, in Jesus’ name, forgive me
for the death I wish upon her and her kind
It is so easy to hate and difficult to love them
impossible to try when there’s still blood on their hands
I thought I knew who I was
until I looked my hatred in the face
She refers to you as Allah
while I simply call you God

May 31, 2010 Posted by | My Writings | , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Mistake

A mistake
Often followed by regret
Remorse
Repentance
But I still feel a song
Swelling from within
Dripping from my lips
Every single day
Where there ought to be
There is none
No regret
No remorse
No repentance
The only mistake
My mistake
To ever stop singing the blues

May 26, 2010 Posted by | My Writings | , , , , , , | 1 Comment

Charades

No words
Just gestures
He giggles
I chuckle
He writes letters in the air
I see nothing but his finger moving
He sighs
I shrug
He makes a heart with both hands
I nod slowly
He points to the clock on the wall
I glance at the clock on the wall
He points again at clock
I hold up 4 fingers for 4 o’clock
He shakes his head “no”
I throw up my hands and frown
He walks over to the clock
I wonder if this is in the rules
He makes a counterclockwise motion with his finger
I hold up 3 fingers, then 2, and then 1
He smiles and nods
I pat myself on my own back
He giggles
I chuckle
He rewinds time on the clock
He makes a heart with both hands
I watch him carefully
I nod understanding each gesture
He points to me
He makes a heart again
I frown confused
I point to me too
He nods his head “yes”
He walks over and pats me down
I giggle
He chuckles
“What are you doing?” I say
“Hey, you aren’t supposed to talk!” he says
“And you aren’t supposed to touch!” I say
“And you weren’t supposed to make me love you” he says
“You stole my heart some time ago”
I poke out my bottom lip
He kisses my bottom lip
I point to him
I make a heart with both hands
I point to myself
He points to his self
He makes a heart with both hands
He points to me
I melt
He smiles
No words
Just gestures

May 20, 2010 Posted by | My Writings | , , , , , | Leave a comment

Stress

Sometimes I wonder where all the regular folks went.  Growing up, we had our own little circle of people who talked about home, relationships, marriage, finances, love, work, school, kids, church, God, sex, food, clothing, fashion, technology, etc with honesty.  Now, I keep running into people who want to talk about things that do not matter like celebs, movies, music, etc.  I knew what to expect from life because people talked about their lives openly.  A few weeks ago, a friend asked if I thought she was conceited.  I told her “yes”.  She thanked me for my honesty and I thought the conversation was over until she had to ask “why”.  I told her.  In return, she told me how she felt about me and gave me her honest opinion about a number of things.  I appreciated the feedback and, on some things, I took her advice.  On others, the jury is still out.  I find that I like life more when I am surrounded by people who are real honest about life.  I do not handle stress well….as you can tell.  I never have been good at handling stress.  It scared me, confused me, shook my foundation, and left me confused on where I was supposed to go.  I grew up sheltered by many standards but exposed to the harsh realities within my own home. 

My family is in shambles.  My sister who asked for the $180 went to get her hair done for her and her boyfriend’s 1 yr anniversary while eventually she will complain about being broke and running low on insulin.  My mom is crazy (literally sometimes).  She took out a life insurance policy on my sister because she is convinced her live-in boyfriend is going to kill her.  My mom is in a deep financial hole.  She has struggled with finances from day one and, when God gave her a way out, her spent that on a necklace (thanks Kanye).  She doesn’t qualify for a certain type of bankruptcy and works her life away trying to stay afloat.  My step-dad is an alcoholic.  He has one DUI that I know of, had his license taken away, got a fake license under his brother’s information (identify theft), and has wrecked maybe 3 cars this year so far.  He wrecked this recent car which my mom put in her name (about the time she asked me to buy her a car) and is still driving illegally around Chicago reminding me of the several fatal accidents of drivers with DUIs on the road who killed pedestrians.  My other sister is pregnant without money and her current baby daddy is in jail for whatever reason and all she has is her Link (food stamps) card and whatever agency pays her rent every month.  My ex-hubby is still out of work and still always out partying, eating out, and living it up without so much of $5 in the mail for his kids.  My brother’s prom is next month and he was promised a car but since our step-dad has no license and my mom refuses to let him drive anything but a big wheel, he is screwed and pissed.  My bro is mad at me for not taking his exam for him, he is mad at my parents for not taking him to get his license (or at least take one of the exams), and he is mad that he will not get his shiny new car to rent for prom.  I sound pretty damn normal in comparison.

This is why I do not come around family too much because my head begins to hurt, my heart races, I feel like I can’t breathe, and I wanna cry because they stress me out sometimes.  Yeah, I sound weak.  No, I do not need to toughen my skin and no I do not need to get stronger.  It’s not a matter of me letting them stress me out (at least I don’t think so).  It’s a matter of caring about a bunch of stupid people so much their failures hurt too much.  They are too stupid to see their mistakes.  If I help, I begin to carry their burdens because they will all come with a hand outstretched.  If I stay away from family, my actions are misinterpreted as anything but positive.  That is what I have chosen thus far.  Some things will never perfectly align and connect every dot or even compute.  Some things just refuse to feel right.  My life in its soon-to-be solo state of just me and my kids (until summer vacation) is perfectly peaceful.  No one’s calls to screen, no one’s text messages to ignore, no one’s FB status’ to roll my eyes at, and no one to delete so I do not see their tweets.  If I could, I’d make my blog accessible to folks I approve only but that requires too much work and may be counterproductive.  I wish I had the time to write about health care, immigration (can these folks just get a damn SS card?!), drugs, violence, gangs, economy, politics, or Wall Street.  I read other blogs for those posts.  Right here at least for right now, I feel like talking about what’s going on in my own backyard with my own blood and my own people. 

And yes, I do not anticipate this relationship lasting….he is pissing me off weekly now.  I shake my head oftentimes wondering why I am destined to be single for life.  I tell him to quit his job because he is their slave….he acts like it was his idea.  He runs a business but his employees run him to the point where he must stay nearby to check on them as if they are infants instead of grown men.  I told him to fire them.  He says “they have families”.  I say “they don’t care about their families to skip half a day at work without notice”.  They show up to work when they want to, complain about him to his brother, his brother has to cuss them out to get them back on track, and then he has to pay them out of his savings account.  It’s bad business all the way around but my degree in management means little to his years of entrepreneurial/management skills.  He even asked me if he could do my job.  I replied “yes but they require a college degree first and you have to pass a test to even get an interview”.  He said he was only asking cause he likes computers.  I like math but that doesn’t mean I am good at it!  I told Mr. D I would never hire him to manage anything of mine so why would a relationship work?!  Is that not a form of business with love as the foundation? 

No IRA, no 401k, no investments, upside down on your car, not enough savings to carry you thru a lay-off because you use it to pay lazy employees, a business barely in the black, and more expenses than income…yes, we can talk about everything else that is all cutesy and girlie because that is what will make me happy.  But, when I outline all the ways in which your ship is sinking either now or later, he says I am getting too personal.  Money is personal.  Being an entrepeneur with business cards and driving a Lexus is a front.  You are no more wealthy than the crackhead outside your door.  You just have a better chance of getting that small business loan than he does.  But, his money matters are too personal because I struck a chord when I said “I am right”.  Of course we aren’t retiring at the age of 65 anymore so you might have another 20 yrs but time is the valuable component available to you when it comes to retirement esp when you are about 30 yrs from the traditional retirement age which means you will have to set aside more monthly than someone 21 yrs of age would to play catch-up.  Compound interest.  Time.  With little savings, no retirement account, and existing debt with the hopes of children….this is one fool who is too arrogant to listen to some skinny divorcee chick who runs miles for fun and can see a liability before it sees itself.  But, most black men are always complaining that black women do not see the potential.  I see potential but I also see defiance and refusal to listen.  It’s not always about who is the head of the household.  Where is the respect?  Why do I care more about your financial future than you do?  And who pays a car off just to buy another one?  Idiot!

I still pray for them.  I honestly haven’t prayed in forever but I started again because someone needs to pray and since it’s my family I guess that someone is me.  Mr. D?  He’s a man….they figure these things out naturally.  Isn’t that what that Y chromosome is for?  Let them tell it…

May 3, 2010 Posted by | Life, Love | , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Did I Ever Love You?

Valentines Day is this weekend and I have no Valentine.  I’m not sad about it but it made me think of all the guys from the last 3 years (since I moved back to Chicago) that I swore I loved.  I can think of 3 in particular that, at the moment, I thought my world was spinning so fast that it would spin right off its axis when we called it quit.  For the week (or two) afterwards, I’d assault my friends’ ears with my “I miss him” lines and recapping all the signs I knew were confirmed that this guy right here was indeed “the one”.  Now, looking back I don’t even know if I ever really loved them.  Maybe it was something I just said.  Maybe it was the emotional connection I was feeling.  Whatever it was, it was not what I told myself it was.  Of the 3 I had sex with 1 when I uttered the words “I love you” so I know it wasn’t the sex that made me lose my freakin mind.  Hmmm.  But I do love them still.  To this day I swear, with my hand on a stack of Bibles (that statement no longer holds the weight it used to before I gained knowledge of the Bible but I’ll use it anyways), that I sincerely love them.  Of course it’s an endearing love, an “I hope you are ok” love, a “hey I’ve missed you big head” love, a “I know you know better” love, a “call me when you need me” love, and a “if you need $100 I got you boo boo” love. None of that crap I told myself with the harps playing in the background, angels singing, head over heels, I gotta pinch myself, or anything else closer to fairy tale than reality.  So, did I ever really love them?  Yes, I did and I still do.  I just had to figure out (for myself) in what way I do.

One of these 3 guys asked me, in so many words, if I ever loved him or was he something for me to conquer.  I replied with a percentage stating that he was roughly 70% a conquest of mine.  Something to do.  Something to thrill me.  Something unattainable that, once I got him to say he loved me as well, I was victorious.  That probably sounds bad.  A female friend of mine had called me the Black Widow for the last couple of years.  She says I only have this crazed attraction for a guy when he doesn’t really want me but, once he does, I lose interest.  She even said it’s more obvious after I’ve slept with him (lol girl talk).  I guess, from her perspective, I’ve slept with a guy and lost feelings for him not because the sex was bad but because….I just lost that drive as I had in the beginning.  Does that make sense to anyone other than me?  I tell her often it’s just not true.  The guy I recently stopped dating, I was so into him but now, although we keep in touch and he still comes by, I just look at him differently.  According to my mind & a couple blog posts, he was the best I ever had (non-sexual) so I just knew he was “the one” until we became just friends.  Suddenly, I can’t find all that gushy stuff I was feeling.  It disappeared in 7 days flat (usually the time it takes for me to get over those Harlequin feelings) and now I see him as a good friend.  I have started dating someone else so this new guy has essentially replaced him but he doesn’t know that.  Need to know basis is where I have placed him.  So, am I just being young & confused?  Am I a guy?  Am I going to be prone to this indefinitely?  Am I out-of-my-mind?  What I have learned is that guys tend to love me when we become friends so I guess I am more free, at ease, and less of a bytch when we have fun together & don’t worry about labels and in all friend situations there is no sex…..awesome!

Anywho, enough about that…tonight did not work for my date with Malcolm so we decided on next week Thursday.  I usually wfh that day but I have it off & will take the kids to their sitter as usual.  His last class ends at 11am so we plan to go ice skating downtown and get something to eat afterwards.  I asked if that was a good idea to go ice skating as a 1st date when either one of us could very well fall flat on our butts and there goes that whole “trying to impress” moment lol he said “if we fall we get back up – no big deal”.  Well alrighty then.  So, I will look as cute as possible ice skating but I’m not worried since the last time I went ice skating I didn’t fall at all 🙂 now if he falls I will laugh like I’ve never laughed before! I do that, I laugh when people fall flat on their butt while I help them up lol this should ease any nervousness which is a big plus.  Then we can go eat something extra messy so I can get all the licking-my-fingers & eating-with-my-hands habit out there and carry on an entire conversation with sauce on my face lol he’s just a guy however fine he may be and I’m just the only beautiful chick in all of Chicago **places hand on stack of Bibles**.

February 12, 2010 Posted by | Love | , , , | Leave a comment

The Best

Of all the times I have been emotional, right now is new to me partly because I am sad but I don’t feel a strong sense of sadness and I want to cry but as soon as a tear falls I wipe it away confused as to why it fell at all and I am questioning a lot of things but not really caring to question them at all.  So, when I find myself confused about myself I sit down and watch a movie and direct my mind to the story being told on screen since the story in my head is lock in there refusing to come out….at least in the way I want it to come out.  I stop.  I stop trying to edit it and just write it.  Just write it. 

I would like to say I am heartbroken but I know it’s a different feeling than it was with other guys I have blogged about in the last year or so.  The guy from recent blogs did not work out.  My friends say it’s only temporary.  My logic tells me I know better.  Usually, I rest everything on emotions, cry, write sappy poems, listen to love songs, and even try to rationalize what went wrong and why.  This time I really don’t seem bothered by it although I know I’m heartbroken.  So, what is different this time?  This one right here that I recently just ended things with…his heart is astonishing. 

Sometimes I can’t believe the things he has done for others, his family, where his priorities are, how he shows that each day, and how he actually prays and stuff like that.  I know this sounds crazy but maybe I can find words so someone else can understand it too.  From day one, he has never let me lift a finger for anything.  He’d bring me stuff, I’d call and say I need this, he’d say “is this your way of asking?!” and I’d say “can you please ____?”, and he’ll bring it.  Some of my friends said I was being spoiled so I brought it to his attention.  “My friends think you spoil me.  I think you do too.”  He says without hesitation, “I know”.  Alrighty then….lol.  After so long, I began to pitch in not because he asked me to but because I wanted to.  You understand?  I still let him take care of things but when I knew or saw he had a lot of financial obligations on him this particular month, I took him out for dinner instead of the other way around and the sad part is that he thanked me waaaaaay too much!  It was as if he wasn’t used to anything.  He even helps his family out with money when they need it. 

Best story: He told me how his grandma used to knit a lot when he was younger. She knitted him this blanket (I think it was blanket) that he loved but now she doesn’t knit anymore because she was injuried in an accident.  I kinda felt the emotion from his words and knew he cared a lot about his grandma because the one thing she loved to do was taken away from her.  

Best moment: when he was talking about my feet and how one of my big toes is leaning like the tower of Pisa.  I hit him and said how mean that was but then he took off his shoe & sock and showed me his horrendous feet and how the top of his big toe looks like a bobble head (lol it really does). He has done that countless times….made me feel better about a flaw by showing me one of his. 

Best laugh: I have chin hairs lol yes, I hate to admit it but I do.  I pluck them when they get long enough to grab with my tweezers.  One day, during one of these growth moments, he ran his hand under my chin and I almost died!  It’s been a running joke since then.  One day, my 4 yr old told him he needed to shave and he said “so does your mama” lol I almost fell out my chair laughing.  I still punched him though.  Then, 2 mins later, he gave my 4 yr old a quarter to walk over and rub under my chin.  My son did it!  Sold me out for 25 cents….the nerve of him!  He bent over holding his side in laughter not at the fact that he got my baby to take part in his comedy act staring me but because my 4 yr old handed him the quarter back! 

Best date:  he took me to his seafood restaurant I’ve always heard about in Chicago.  He ordered squid and crab cakes so I could try them (I dislike most seafood without ever tasting it) and fed me like I was an infant or something.  He got me to try shrimp (I didn’t like it) and since it was pretty warm that night, we went down to the lake and walk along the beach.  We walked, sat and talked, I took off my flip-flops and stepped into the icy Lake Michigan, and we walked back holding hands.  It was the best 3 or 4 hours. 

Best confession: when he came over, sat down on the couch next to me, held my hand, and swallowed really hard like we was about to tell me my dog had just died.  He said, “I realize I do love you”.  A part of me was like “awwwww!” but then another part of me was like “why you had to be all dramatic about it?!” lol but I knew it was a big moment for him so I played along winning an Academy award that night but still thoroughly impressed that he’d expressed his self at all. 

Best Simple Thing: he came over to fix my water heater which really didn’t need fixing but just needed that little red dial turned over to the Hot side of the display but I didn’t know that….I have never paid attention to a water heater before.  Anywho, he came over and we stepped onto my enclosed back porch which is about the same temp as outside.  I had on a baby tee and jogging pants (I run in this weather so it didn’t bother me) but he had on his leather coat.  He stepped onto the porch and said, “man, it’s cold out here!” while taking off his jacket.  Me not being used to a gentleman, I was thinking to myself, “why is he taking off his jacket if he’s cold??”  Then I realized he was giving it to me when I hadn’t complained about being cold at all!  I was speechless for a long time when I realized that. To me, and maybe I’m giving in to my supreme exaggeration skills here, but it was like he was yelling out “it’s hot in here” but handing me his last drop of water.  You get it? 

Best tender moment: we’d just had an argument and I had come by so he could do something for me and left without so much as a good-bye because I was still kinda mad about our argument the day before and refused to let it go until he apologized.  He walked after me, asked to take me home, and then asked if I was still mad at him.  I’m a pansy so of course I said no and we got into his car and he began to cry.  Not boo-hoo tears but maybe 6 tears total came down his face before he told me his childhood friend had died and he had just found out maybe 1 min before I walked in. 

Worst Poker Face: I was in a real bitchy mood.  I mean it was nasty.  He’d call and I’d snap off.  Then he’d laugh and I’d go off with “what’s so freakin funny?!?!”.  Then he’d ask if it was that time of the month but then answer his own question with a “naw, that’s not for another week” and then I say “you know what, you can kiss my butt!”  At this time, after me being a real bitch he says, “I get it, you miss me don’t you?” and there I am….putty!  He’d figured me out. I asked, “am I too moody?”  Then he said, “naw, I just need to know how to handle each one”.  Interesting. 

Best compliment: he said I remind him of his mom because he can see her strength in me. 

Best kiss: after a fight…we have had many of those but he later called them “misunderstandings” which sounds better. 

Best QT moment: he works like a Hebrew so I’d gotten used to him not being able to stay long if he stopped by although I made sure I complained when appropriate to get my point across that I was mad (i.e. missing him).  One Saturday, he stopped by and, instead of running out the door when his phone ran for an appointment, he told them “I’ll be there in about an hour and a half”.  I looked at him and said, “what are you about to do for an hour and a half?” and he said, “spend it with you”.  Putty…again. 

Best Dad Moment: I was trying for the umpteenth time to show him this stock information so he can invest on his own when my 8 yr old asks me a question about his math homework which I had explained maybe twice already.  I repeat what I said about 2 minutes ago, my son walks away still confused, and he says, “maybe he still don’t understand.”  I say, “well, he is not trying to understand.”  He says, “maybe you need to say it in a way where he can understand it” so he gets up and goes over to help him with this math problem using different words to say the same thing I had just said!  My son?  Finishes the problem like a bulb had just went off in his head and I’m sitting here like “what the hell just happened?!” 

He’d go to church and think about a part of the sermon and how it may pertain to him, what God wants him to do, where he need to help out more in the community, and how he can give more to his employees.  He gave out turkeys in his ‘hood for Thanksgiving and Christmas even bringing me one when I complained about not having one although I had money to get one….I’m such a baby!  He got me into investing, reading about it, the different options, and ways to invest instead of gambling your money away.  He has given me $200 thus far to invest in my own way (I added some of my own money later) and I have yet to teach him about it at all because he won’t stop working. And that is where the problem is…..he works a lot with his 9-5 job, his business, and his evening/weekend job.  I don’t mind the jobs as much as I hate the lack of communication.  We argue about the same issue constantly…or we used to.  Logic tells me that we would never have worked out because, after countless times to work on his communication, he has not and shows no desire to change in that department because that’s the way he has always been.  But, I adore his heart. I am pleased and impressed with his selflessness.  I am mesmerized by him in general.  I have a lot more Best moments but I will stop right here. I often tell myself that my guy must be as great as my friend of an era length of time.  Could it be that he’s better? Oh well….all things must come to an end.

January 10, 2010 Posted by | Love | , , , , | 2 Comments

State Your Argument Counsel

The state of being “in love” does not exist. It is a result of mental and emotional instability so the correct term should not be “in love” but “insane”. 

Love by experience, tale, and definition means to have genuinely sincere care and concern for another person which has the ability to stand-alone and independently of any and all circumstances.  I have “loved” before but, when the discussion approached the land of Relationship, this is when the conditions arise and negotiations begin.  Where the compromising and negotiations fall is where we leave the thoughts of a relationship to rest in peace.  But, love still exists whether it is returned or logic simply destroys the possibility of a bond.  It stands the test of time, distance, and results of human interaction which, in doing so, displays its purity.

Being “in love” by tale (since no one can accurately define it) means the inability to live without this other person because some, if not all, believe they will surely die or would prefer not to live.  I once believed I was “in love”, that this person was my air, the axis to my world, and the reason to live.  That was until I realized I did survive when they left, my heart continued to beat absent theirs, my mind functioned properly when not absorbed with them, my axis is not made of his flesh and bones but is just an imaginary line drawn in space, and the air I breathe is not, never was, and never will be under his control.  I glanced back into my past and thought of all the things I had done to support my then argument that I was “in love”. 

I bought him a car.  Oprah Winfrey bought her entire audience a car during a taping of her show.  Is Oprah “in love” with everyone who sat in her studio audience that day?  I could not imagine life without this person.  I cannot imagine life without food only because I have never suffered from starvation.  I cannot imagine life without water only because I have never suffered dehydration.  I could not imagine life without a car but, when I lost mine, my imagination took on a new dimension.  So, if you cannot imagine it then that is undeniable evidence that it is impossible?  I know I am “in love” but I cannot define it.  I cannot show it.  I cannot reach into my being, pull it out, and place it on the table as I say, “Exhibit A” for the judge and juror to see.  What I can do is define mental and emotional instability.  What I can do is show examples of mental and emotional instability.  What I can also do is compile a stack as far as the eye can see of studies, patients, and test results that supports these instabilities as I look to you who foolishly believes and say, “case in point” for the judge and juror to see. 

I have fallen out of this self-described state of being “in love” but, thus far in my lifetime, I have not fallen out of “love”.  If I can survive, breathe, and feel my world continue to rotate as it should then I (and others) have successfully disproven the definition of “in love” and its existence entirely.  Now, the task remains for anyone up for it to separate the symptoms of mental & emotional instability from those amazingly similar to being “in love”.  I cannot.  No one can in my opinion.  Thus, my argument stands unchallenged and adequately supported that “in love” is a state requiring a moment of clarity (or a straight jacket depending on the severity of the illness) as opposed to a wedding date.

January 7, 2010 Posted by | Love | , , , | Leave a comment