Saturday, August 28, 2010

Slap in the Face(book)

Ok...well, that's not exactly true.  I am on facebook...but I do believe that the puppet strings controlling my life have been handed over to Satan, and facebook is his muse.  Rather than take down pictures and erase all the ex-beau pics last year, I curtailed a world-wide breakup by suspending my facebook account.  Periodically I'd sneak on to look at pictures, and to slowly reselect "friends" that earned the right to know all my bin-ness.  But for 7 months I was 98% single sexy and facebook free.

Then reality kicked in...and I realized that without a virtual thumb print, in many ways you don't exist.  I mean, of course if your peer circle is Blanche and the Golden Girls you're fine with your corded house phone with no call waiting...but for everyone else, social networking is a must.

So after my 7 month social hibernation, I reactivated my account, and jumped back into the virtual world like I never missed a beat.  That's when the Devil (I'm sure in an effort to humor God) grabbed my puppet strings.  I started reaching back (like I always do) trying to rekindle love I thought I new...when I SWEAR I had resolved to to myself to move forward, not backward.  And eventually...I even pulled up my ex-beau's page.  I know...I know...but I was curious.  He had gotten a little stockier and it made me feel good to see him looking worse than I remembered him with me. (Don't front, you would too.)

But right in the middle of my NEKKID moment - my try-and-be-patient, open-up-and-give-your-best moment - with my rekindled flame of yesterday, facebook slapped me in the face.  I mean Rick James "What did the five fingers say to the face" kind of slap.  I pulled up my ex's page and he is...

ENGAGED!  9 months after our engagement ended, and Sherman Klump (yes I'm exaggerating but roll with it) has found him a WIFE, and I can't even lock down a solid relationship.  To add insult to injury...or a kick in the gut to my Rick James' slap in the face...the same DAY I find out about the engagement, my rekindled flame pulls out citing that he loves me but needs to take a step back and be honest with himself so he can be 100% with me.  "I'm not throwing in the towel, I just need time to find clarity.  I'm not confused, just unsure" *bbm dead face*  Real quotes...and it smelled familiar...just not sure if the scent is "other woman" or "bullsh*t".  Either way, what is clear is that once again "he's just not that into [me]."

And so now, I'm in this weird space. In the middle of Ramadan, fasting without food or water from sunrise to sunset, at the most humbled and vulnerable place I have ever been, and feeling like Satan is manipulating my life and God is laughing at it all unfold.  Forget about the slap...and the kick in the's this ongoing joke at my expense that hurts the most.  

Thursday, August 12, 2010


I know, I know.  It's been too long.  But rather than us chatting poolside, attempting to catch up on the last six months...imma just go ahead an jump on in like we never missed a beat.

I have to admit that on more than one occasion I've had one of those caught naked dreams.  Crazy enough, it's the same exact dream every time.  I'm in a grocery store by the meat and cheese section.  I'm carrying one of those hand baskets, then suddenly a draft from the deli section seizes me and I realize all eyes are on me. Basket drops.  Hands immediately cover the goodies, and like Forest Gump, I take off running.

Although it seems like ages since I've had that dream, that familiar feeling of involuntary over exposure hit  And although it would be much more publicly humiliating to be caught naked in a grocery store, I must admit that being caught emotionally naked comes in at a close second.  Well, before I go there, maybe I should confess.  Yes, good people... I (capital, bold, italicized). Am. Open. Over someone Incredible. But today, catching a faint breeze from his cold shoulder has me thinking about lacing up my Nikes.

But like Andre 3000 in The Morning After, I find myself scrambling to figure out what he's thinking and how I really feel.  Do I really want this? Is he even the picture I paint him to be?  "Be cool, be cool...but what if [he's] the ONE?"  Ok, the scenario wasn't exactly the same.  No need to worry, Mom.  No, there was no girl searching for her panties. Pause. However, I did start breaking my own rules...*bbm can't look face*

Ladies, do as I SAY and not as I (lost my damn mind and done) DID:

1) Don't bring him around your friends until you've met his.
2) Don't even talk about him to your family until you've met his.
3) *MOST IMPORTANT* Don't drop any "L" word until he's said it first.
(I said I lost my damn mind...)

Why are these rules?  Because acting otherwise will have your tail out, exposed and more vulnerable than you'd ever want to be.  TRUST.

Once upon a time, HE was open over ME...and I walked away.  This time around, I was so fixated at going in 100% no boundaries, earning his trust, proving myself and rebuilding something beautiful, that I forgot to protect ME.  So here I stand, fully (emotionally) exposed, and he's chillin at the door in his coat, hat and shoes! Perhaps it's my fear of rejection (Dear Lord, please grant me mercy because I think I've already suffered through my fair share), or just impatience.  But right now, all I want to do is escape this foolish feeling and move on to the next (default setting). I've wasted enough time tilling barren soil.  All these seeds I've been it too much to want to finally see something beautiful grow (and LAST)? Absolutelynot.

(Grabbing a sweater) But I can't run away just yet.  I still believe.  So I guess for now, I'll grab a cup of mint tea, plop my tail on the couch and tuck my pride (and Nikes) away.  Hopefully soon he'll take off those layers and sit next to me.  Hopefully. Soon...