REWIND: Not a Love Thing.

This was written two and a half years ago about my FWB (before the drama with him smashing my friend). Re-reading this really shows me how starved for attention I was. Or, perhaps, how emotionally twisted I was after the number my ex did on me. FWB was the first person I “let in” after my ex — plus, as was said in my favorite movie, “Love Jones”, “This ain’t no love thing; we’re just kickin’ it.”

“This ain’t no love thing; we’re just kickin’ it.” – Darius Lovehall, “Love Jones” | © 1997 New Line Cinemas, Dir. Theodore Witcher

There are many reasons why my “FWB” is no good for me.

I am more than willing to put the 10+ years he spent in prison behind him – he paid his debt to society, and I am not a judgmental person. However, he is only 36. He’s been “out” for a little less than a year, but I believe that the 10 years “away” has invariably left him in a limbo state of grown childhood. I’m no psychologist, but there has to be something to this.

He has 7 kids with 5 different women. His youngest are 12 and oldest is 20 or 21. He was a busy (and sexually irresponsible) man for most of his life. I have no children (on purpose). But, it’s obvious, based on little comments he makes (that I ignore) about me having his baby, that he’d be happy to “trap” me, and that’s never a good sign. I’m not with it.

He’s married. He and his wife have not been in a real relationship since he’s been out, but, uh, yeah (I didn’t know he was married when we first hooked up). Neither of them supposedly have the money to file for divorce. Whatever.

His “wife” is nuts. Seriously. Though she is in a new relationship, she has told him that she’d rather see him “dead or in jail” than happy. So, living 40 minutes away is likely a good (safe) thing for me.

I am a PhD candidate, and he has no concept of what a PhD really is. In the past, he’s referred to my dissertation as “that thing”. Hear me out, I am the least pretentious person in the world, and I have never required that my partners be as “educated” as me, but…that thing? C’mon, dude.

He’s not curious about my book collection. Okay, this may not sound like a big deal, but it kind of is…to me. I have two, packed full, tall book cases (with mainly non-fiction cultural studies stuff), and NOT once has he perused my collection – even out of curiosity. I once joked that anyone who steps into my space, and doesn’t at least browse my books is…no good. Things aren’t looking good for him.

He was (admittedly) physically abusive to his wife.

He’s possessive.

Enough said.

So why am I hung up on this guy? I don’t get it, and it’s really fucking with me.

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“You always want what you want when you want it. Why is everything so urgent with you?” – Nina Mosley, “Love Jones” | © 1997 New Line Cinemas, Dir. Theodore Witcher

My sister says that this situation with him may be the universe’s way of showing me that I’ve “moved on” a bit from my ex and/or I’m ready to open myself up emotionally to someone else. Who knows.

I’m a very witty, intelligent, attractive, never married and educated woman with no kids. I’m a catch, and I deserve better than him. Let me keep repeating that mantra.

 

No Explanation Necessary.

This popped into my head the other day. I’m not sure what sparked the memory, but it really has me thinking and reflecting on life, relationships, self-worth — deep stuff, basically.

About a year and a half ago, I had a long phone conversion with my ex (not the jerk, “FWB” that I’ve been writing about, but a genuine ex). I vented about the aimlessness that characterized my love life (I use that phrase loosely — facetiously, actually). Despite what he did to me (I’m not sure if I’ll write about it here, but it was heart breaking, foul, shady — just all around wrong), I’m in a relatively better place now, and I still value his insight. He may have hurt me, but he’s one of the wisest people I know.

In any case.

We had a long talk about my life, and I ended up telling him about the assorted, not so good, shenanigans that cluttered my world. Without being judgy, he offered the following thoughts:

1. He likened me offering myself too easily & giving too much information to insignificant men to a library book. He asked, “Wouldn’t you prefer to be a rare book in someone’s private collection, rather than a beat up library book from which people can read the introduction and skip right to the end? Your story is too valuable for that. You’re classic, rare and exclusive; not a library book that the public can check out, a book that might end up in someone’s trunk, and not returned on time, or ever.”

Now, I know what you may be thinking — there is an air of hotep in that sentiment; but, I assure you, respectability politics is not what framed his analogy. I honestly feel like it was a suggestion to reflect on how I value myself.

2. My ex used to watch “Sex and the City” with me. In one episode, Samantha was interviewing with Richard Wright about doing PR for his luxury hotels. In any case, Richard looked at her resume and said, “This is all fluff. It’s nothing but parties and social events.” He reminded me of that episode and using that as an analogy, asked if any of the men I’m dealing with are worthy enough to be put on my (hypothetical) resume, or to serve as references (for anything significant or real). Obviously, the answer is no. They’re all essentially… fluff (or at least our relationships are).

3. And finally, I reminded him how passive aggressive image21& non-confrontational I am, and whined that I didn’t know how to end things with certain people. He offered me the best gem of this conversation. He said, “You don’t owe anyone anything. Does a dope fiend owe the dope dealer an explanation for not buying his product anymore? All he offered you was (XYZ), and it’s doing you no good. You don’t owe him shit.”

Touché.

So…in effort to (in the words of Iyanla Vanzant) do the work — my work, I stopped responding to the assorted, random “WYD” (etc.) texts from my fluff. It may not seem like much, but it was a start. Trust me, it didn’t eliminate anything, but it was a needed pause.

And a gentle reminder that reinventing my reality is possible whenever I choose.

“It ain’t nothing to find no starting place in the world. You start from where you find yourself.”
– August Wilson, Joe Turner’s Come and Gone

REWIND: These Hoes Ain’t Loyal.

Again, this is something that I wrote over two years ago, but am just now sharing publicly. You’d think that this would be the end of the saga, but it’s really just the beginning. A few days ago, I wrote about the power of intention, and the importance and necessity of trust (and by extension, loyalty) to make questionable actions not so sinister. This is a perfect example of what not to do. Regardless of intention, blatantly lying is an automatic disqualifier (as it relates to my respect and attention).

So, my last post revolved around a man (I use this term loosely) who I knew was no good for me, but who I was “drawn to”; maybe it was his looks (I wish I wasn’t so superficial), “bad boy” lifestyle, or just the simple act of someone letting me know he’s thinking about me (the random “thinking of you” texts really hooked me in). Nonetheless, he was my “guy” for the moment, and my friends knew it.

So, being the considerate friend that I am, I asked him to help one of my good girlfriends (of about 3 years, at the time) move (from her 4th floor apartment — with no elevator); he reluctantly agreed, and recruited 5 or 6 guys (along with himself) to help her. Sweet. Both he and my friend live in the same city — about 40 minutes from me — not terribly far, but far enough.

To make an incredibly long story short, while digressing a bit…

My father has the “gift” of foresight. He gets an unsettled feeling in his stomach when something bad is going to happen or if things aren’t quite right; his intuition is usually right on point.

Anyway.

I think I’ve inherited this “gift” (curse?). I am an INFJ, after all. That said, I had a really unsettling feeling that I couldn’t shake.

Also, I am impatient. Instead of letting events unfold as they may, I take on the role of “inspector gadget”.

In ways that I will not divulge, I found out that my “good friend” had called my guy (and left a “blank” voicemail…she likely called, and hung up before leaving a message). I promise, I’m not a crazy psycho bitch. I am not insecure (definitely not as it related to him). BUT, given my past relationship drama, loyalty & honesty are important to me. I knew that my FWB was a jerk, but not my friend...

I was perturbed that my friend was in contact with my guy. For what? She had no business calling him. So, without divulging any information, I texted her and (nicely & innocently) asked if she had talked to him at all. Three hours go by, and nothing. At this point my stomach ache is getting worse. I texted her again, and specifically asked if she had tried to call or text him (because he and I were not on the greatest of terms; this was true — see my last post — and I thought that maybe he “blocked me” — or so I said). This second text elicited a response of, “No, but do you want me to?”

At this point, I am heated. This wasn’t about him, it was about the fact that she BLATANTLY lied to me. I heard her fucking phone number on his voicemail. Okay, I knew enough.

As you continue to read (in subsequent posts), you will begin to understand that I am very vulnerable emotionally, so trust is really important to me. I knew what kind of guy my FWB was (he’s a hustler…my friend is kind of…uh, weak…an easy target for a guy like him). I’m not talking about sex, necessarily. Case in point: I watched his ass convince her to let him drive her car the night we helped her move — after we had all been drinking, heavily. She reluctantly agreed.

So, that’s the type of woman we’re dealing with.

Nevertheless, the bitch KNEW everything about what I went through in my last relationship, how important (critical, in fact) honesty is to me (but in a friendship, this goes without saying), yet still lied to me.

At that point, I knew enough. My impatient ass didn’t wait for a half-assed explanation from either of them (What’s the point? A lie is a lie to me). I called them both (neither answered), then hastily left a text message to each, respectively. Yeah, impersonal, but I was pissed.

The texts were not nice, and ended my relationships with each (at least that was my intention). I made it clear that “he” wasn’t the issue, necessarily…loyalty was.

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Venting to a friend. These hoes ain’t loyal, yo.

To ruin a friendship over a guy (who’s not even a prize, or relationship material) boggles my mind.

I blocked them both, and had no interest in hearing what either had to say. I may have been rash, but as the song goes…

“These hoes ain’t loyal”…

After all was said and done, I felt like shit. But my stomach-ache was gone. Weird.

REWIND: Blocked.

The following is something that I wrote a little over two years ago; it’s just my first time sharing it publicly. So, in reality, it’s old news. Though, as I post this, there are current implications that I will discuss at a later time (and a whole other reality that frames this messy situation). There is a lot of drama associated with this person, and to be honest, it was pretty hilarious to read how caught up I was in a situation that not only ended up being futile, but very slimy, deceptive, snaky…and just wrong. As I share more about this story, it may seem disjointed (the sequence), so you’ll need to work with me. This seemingly innocuous post sets the stage for the fuckery to come.

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Words of wisdom from my wiser, younger sister.

So, I think it has ended with a man with whom it should never have begun (awkward sentence, but I digress).

I “met” him online. He was one of the only guys who  had the balls to respond my (intentionally bitchy, sarcastic and off-putting) profile. His message was thoughtful (taking into account the free “dating” site we were on). Instead of a simple “Hi” or “Hey beautiful” (which I explicitly warned in my profile would not garner a response, but again, I digress), he reached out to me with a very clever message. We hit it off and eventually exchanged phone numbers. Before we exchanged numbers, though, he felt compelled to be honest and tell me that he had recently been released after many years in federal prison. It should’ve (perhaps?) been a deal-breaker, but he was attractive & witty. And I wasn’t looking for a relationship. Plus, he served his time. Case closed.

He lives about 40 minutes from me, which isn’t ideal, but I really dug him. Plus, it felt good to wake up to “good morning” texts, etc. — after all, he was the first guy for whom I let my guard down since my last (debacle of a) relationship.

I will save the gritty details of our friendship with benefits for another post (or not). Suffice to say that I think it’s “over”. He was all wrong for me, but for the first time in months, I felt…protected/appreciated/admired. It felt good.

Fast forward.

Our last interaction was harsh, and I said some not so nice things. I swore I’d never talk to him again, but I swallowed my pride and reached out to him. There’s been no response to my calls and texts for going on three days. Now, I’m sad. Or perhaps my pride is wounded.

I (think? I) am sure he’ll reach out to me in due time, but I’m impatient. So, I’m going to “block” his phone number for a while. my pride doesn’t want to know how long he will hold out. Or, if he will for good.

I caught feelings, and I hate it.

The Power of Intention.

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“Intention is one of the most powerful forces there is. What you mean when you do a thing will always determine the outcome.” – Brenna Yovanoff, “The Replacement”

“What the eyes don’t see, the heart doesn’t grieve over.”– Some old saying…not sure who said it

While many people disagree with the sentiment behind the idea that what you don’t know won’t hurt you, I kind of buy it.

Life has shown me that there are many things with which my mind would’ve been better served not knowing. I could’ve saved my heart a lot of pain if I would’ve let sleeping dogs lie, so to speak. The mind can really fuck up a heart (and nerves — read: rumination and anxiety fueled panic attacks and sickness). Our minds are powerful…at times, to our hearts’ (and bodies’) detriment.

I am in no way condoning betrayal. I just don’t completely buy some people’s mumbo jumbo about the heart being able to feel every action that the eyes don’t see.

Especially as it relates to infidelity.

This may be my way of justifying (some people’s definition of) morally questionable behavior. That said, I have experienced situations in which I’ve found out about (the means of discovery are irrelevant) a partner’s infidelity. I can say, with certainty, that if the affairs were completely physical (and didn’t **produce a human life, or a disease), I may have been better off not knowing. This isn’t ideal…deception is deception. But, society’s definition of fidelity & commitment (in relationships) is relative.

This may be because I am a firm believer in the power of intention — not the hokey stuff you probably think of when you hear the phrase, but work with me here. Assuming that my hypothetical significant other was put (or put himself) in a situation that lent itself to solely physical gratification (provided it did not produce the things mentioned above), and there was no intention to hurt me or betray our emotional commitment, I’m not sure it would be worth me knowing.

Additionally, I feel that my partner should feel the same way about me and my actions (and intentions).

And being perfectly honest, I think that this is a conversation that should be had by every couple before any action has been taken. I am a firm believer in trust (because regardless of intention, being lied to, or intentionally deceived is a deal breaker for me). I am also a firm believer in choice. Give me the choice of deciding whether or not I’m okay with whatever you’re thinking about doing (that could potentially impact me or our relationship). I would do the same in return. Then…we are both armed with the information necessary to decide whether or not it’s acceptable to us, as individuals. Yay or nay? Stick around or move around? Acceptable or nah?

I speak from experience and from reason. And of course, what I describe is ideal. Lovely in theory.

I am not foolish enough to think that subjective things like feelings can be rationalized. But, commitment can be. We are human.

That said, I think the power of intention cannot be underestimated.

But, it has also been said that the road to hell is paved with good intentions.

Maybe I don’t know shit.

Excuse me as I step off of my soapbox.

“The man who knows something knows that he knows nothing at all.” – Erykah badu, On and On

** Producing a human life, from an “affair“, is a topic worthy of discussion, at a later time.