The next morning, I awoke to a "Happy Easter" text message from him at 8:30. I didn't respond. Around noon he sent a text telling me he hoped my day was going well. I responded that I was having a good day nearly an hour later. He immediately texted me back telling me that he wanted to play in my hair again. SEE?! Um... He's doing too much. Granted, the alcohol had me nice and lubricated the night before, but that didn't mean that I was up and ready to introduce all kinds of new people into my space at this moment in time. Here it is nearly noon the next day and I still haven't said anything back to him.
I explained to my home girl "Tanya" about my decision to basically curb new potential suitors with "well, I'm currently grieving the last man I was interested in, so I'm not in a space to date." Tanya surprised me by suggesting that I not offer that to men. She suggested instead that I simply state "thank you, but I'm not interested." I may be impulsive as all hell, but I've definitely worked out my verbal rejection letter to a science. While grief may be about 50 percent of why I don't want to be bothered, there is also the fact that I'm in the process of completing school, job hunting, and realizing I need to zero in on my son more. I just don't have time for bullshit.
Another thing I've realized is that as a woman, guys simply love the challenge of hearing a woman say "I don't want or need a man to come in and fuck my life up." There is nothing a fuccboi (pronounced FUCK BOY) loves more than the challenge of a woman who has declared that she's putting down the pipe. Fuccbois know they ain't shit. But when a woman has stated that she no longer wants to be sidetracked by the shenanigans involved with new penis, fuccbois take that as a challenge to break down her walls, pun intended. I can only think back on the many men that knew the didn't want shit, yet somehow worked their way into my life just to fuck up my progress, or fell down on their knees apologizing for being fuccbois, only to turn around and do the same shit again.
One of the blessings about death on my end here, is that no one wants to hear about it. Lord knows I've stretched the ears of my loved ones to the max with conversations about my departed friend. But people that don't know me and never knew Peter simply aren't going to want to sit around with me as as I cry and go through this process. So I consider it quite a blessing when I say "Sorry, I'm grieving" and men back away. Guys are trying to get in and smash. They aren't trying to bring down their days with my shit. Good. That's the way I'd prefer it. Honestly, I've considered keeping up the story, long after I'm done with this process, simply because I love how it deters would-be fuccbois. I'm sure Pete would be okay with me blaming his death on why I don't want to be bothered with another loser.
Back to Tanya, I told her that I don't owe anyone a pretty explanation for my grief. I don't have to wrap up my feelings in a pretty little bow, just so that the fragile male ego could handle me telling him that I'm not interested. She then said that I could, in fact, be hurting the feelings of men by stating that my grieving means that I'm off the table. I told her that I don't really give a shit how my grieving makes someone else feel, and that stating my loss is, in no way, a statement meant to harm others, but instead explain my mental space. She then told me that if I'm not the offended party, I don't get to say what is or is not offensive. I swear, I'm pissed off again just writing about this shit. Am I seriously supposed to hold back my truth, just to make a man feel good about himself? And in the meantime, have a guy hear me say "no thank you, I'm not dating" so that he can then zoom in on me with the intention of destroying my life?!
I've known Tanya for a few years now, so I know she can be kinda contrary at times. I'm going to chalk this bullshit up to one of those moments. But still. I shouldn't be made to be quiet about who or where I am. And I won't be.