Sunday, May 9, 2010

My momma told me

Imet and I...

Oh, wait...

Sorry for the hiatus. Things have been moving quickly. For a brief minute, I thought I was gonna be unemployed. But I'm not. God is good.

So as I was saying...

Imet and I are no more. Or at least, that's what it looks like right now. We haven't spoken in 24 hours. That is to say, 24 hours ago, he told me how he doesn't need anybody but God, and "how have you been supportive of me?", and wah wahwah...

I'm out.

I'm short on patience. Been that way for a long time now. You ever had that one relationship that splits your life into "before him" and "after him"? Yeah, I've had one of those. It's actually an amazing growth experience. After him, though, I learned to trust my own judgment more. You see, a lot of the things that wind up hurting us in the long run, we already saw coming far, far ahead of time. We may not have known what we were looking at. Or maybe we knew and didn't want to acknowledge it. Or maybe we acknowledged it but didn't know where to go from there, so we just awaited the inevitable. Either way, I would hazard an unscientific guess that, oh, 78% of the time, we see, smell or otherwise sense bullshit before it hits us full-on in the face.

And in that indescribable moment after shit has hit the fan, bounced off the blades and is now hurling directly at your left eye with laser-guided accuracy... in that split second of "fuck me, this is really happening", lo n behold, you grow.

So I grew. I kept the patch on my left eye and grew from that moment. And one lesson that I got from that shit patch was to trust my judgment more. Hence my shortness on patience. I will only extend so many chances for you to get your shit together these days. Is this necessarily the right move? I really don't know. It can be brash at times. But I'm enjoying the freedom to make a mistake and live with the consequences, rather than spend all my time deliberating on the decision itself.

"Piss or get off the pot."

"Pick a lane and run."

2 of my favorite phrases in life.

Imet... among other things, is immature. Well, maybe not so much immature for his age, but not mature enough for me. I'm a woman. Therefore, I'm naturally more mature than my male counterparts. This is how we have constructed society, by raising our girls to become women while they're still girls, thereby making them mature more quickly. Girls get taught how to nurture (Barbies, play cooking ovens, my little pony, etc), while boys are left to their reckless abandon, and taught to hunt/build/provide (GI Joe, tonka trucks, etc). It's also why most women usually marry older than themselves.

Imet is one year younger than me. You see how this is already a problem. But I thought, okay, I can deal. I can be patient. I can overlook the dumbshit he does, like calling me at 4am because that's when HE got up to study, knowing good and mutherfucking well that I have to be up in 3 hours for work, AND that I have trouble sleeping. PS , I'm writing this at damn near 1 in the morning, and I have to be up for work in about 6 hours. I overlook that shyt because I have seen, and acknowledged that it's a shit patch, and have braced myself accordingly. I overlook a lot of things like that. And to his credit, I'm sure he's had to overlook a lot of my accept-me-or-kick-rocks-with-ingrown-toenails behaviors. Whatever.

But for you to boldface tell me that you don't need anyone, that I haven't been supportive of you, that ... Dude, seriously?

Like most people (or at least, I think this is how most people think), I have a threshold for bullshit. This threshold is a moving target, depending on the audience. Family and other loved ones naturally get a much higher threshold. But once you cross that threshold, the door closes behind you and there is no crossing back over. And for someone like me who loves resolution - right or wrong - that's a dangerous thing sometimes. When that door shuts, it really shuts. Not because I'm just that strong-willed. Nope. I just... once you cross that threshold, I no longer see you as I once did. You've become this creature, and I just can't see you any other way than that.

Imet is almost there. Almost. Much to my delight and surprise, there's still a piece of me that is wiling to work with him. He's dealing witha lot. I mean, a LOT, at this time in his life. But that window is closing fast. Because it's not like I'm living the carefree life either. Someone asked me yesterday when/where I'm going on vacay. I laughed. "I don't do vacays. I save all my vacay time so I can spend it with family at our annual gatherings. I don't go anywhere." There was an audible sigh on the other end of the line. "I gotta get to somebody's beach, fuck THAT." I envied him his work-life balance. Especially since he has a kid. What's my fucking excuse?

I was discussing my Imet situation with mom today. That jewel has more wisdom than I think even she realizes. "What you call yourself, is what you will be called," she reminded me. As you regard yourself, so shall the world regard you. If you allow any man to take advantage of you, that is your choice. But

As I swirled that around in my mouth and mulled over her words, she hit me with another banger: a man is supposed to pamper you.

Wow. That lingered. Still lingers.

Have I ever had that? What is that like? I'm not referring to the occasional gift splurge and compliment. I mean... What is it like to be so loved that a man is protective of you, that he puts you ahead of himself, that he treats you like a pearl encased in an eggshell? What is that like? I look at my parents. I have no idea what their courtship was like. Well, not those sorts of details. I'm sure my dad was romantic, because he has the artist's heart.

And while that lingered on the brain, she hit me with this: "When your father was courting me, he was consistent. His actions spoke for him. He showed up. He was there. He did as he promised. He was consistent. He was there."

Ladies and gentlemen, this is my dad, till this day. What he says, never needs to be second-guessed. He wouldn't say it if he couldn't commit to it.

What is that like? To have a man who loves me so gingerly, so completely, so actively, so soundly, so assuredly, so protectively, so completely... what is that like?? I've told myself that I don't need these things. I don't need to fall in love. I don't need those warm, giggly feelings that you get when you meet someone new. Man, I don't even remember the last time I felt those. I figure, I've been there, done that and what did it net me? Not my husband. And isn't that the point of all this? I know, I know... date for dating's sake. Yeah, that was cool, and I've done that. But I'm not in that space right now. So I told myself, that as long as he was a stable character, treated me with respect, met the bare requirements of a partner, etc, I was good. He doesn't have to get me. I can find other outlets for my... personality. I can find ways to tuck it away. I can be less me. I can fit myself into this box, eat oatmeal for the rest of my life, and live a healthy relationship.

Why do I find myself yearning for just the opposite now? Why do I yearn to be heard, listened to, seen, appreciated, loved, in all my naked, flawed glory?

What is that like??

Imet is none of these things. Part of me says, I can nurture these things into/out of him. Perhaps that's true. But I don't think I'm going to find out. There's bittersweet release in knowing he's not coming back.

Regard yourself well. The world is watching.

1 comment:

  1. DAMN! Preach mama, preach. I can look back at my experiences and own that I only know what half of that felt like. NEVER known a man who has the strength of character to not say it if you can't commit to it...doesn't stop me from wanting it.

    .......and the search continues.