Decompression

Last week was one for the history books. I changed offices and was transferred to a new site, meaning new clients and new coworkers that I'd be working closely with, followed by a high school classmate's funeral. I learned that a cousin I'd met only a few years ago died, and thoughts of Pete started circling when Ted and I got into it. Then I had to help with a friend's fundraiser, an event I'd been helping to plan for the last 2 months, followed by my childhood friend's wedding. In the midst of all of that Ted and I ended things. Like ended them, ended them. Like it's over. No more sex for us.  I'm actually okay with us being over though. I only wanted things to continue if it would go a way that made me happy. It didn't. So I'm okay with it being over. It was all just a lot to process in just one week. By Saturday morning, I was exhausted.

With a week like that, I already knew that I'd need to recuperate heavily. I didn't want to go anywhere. I just wanted to focus. I wanted to process everything I'd been through.What did it all mean? After 2017 was one proverbial pimp slap after another, 2018 offered much-needed relief and growth. Shit, 2019 has been pretty kick ass too. So I guess I'm maturing a bit, but I felt that considering that the last two years have been pretty spectacular, a week of heavy lifting and shifting was the least I could stand.
Saturday and Sunday, I simply stayed home and cleaned my apartment. And thanks to the wonderful ADHD medication I'm taking, I was able to get it done with no problems. I didn't just clean one or two rooms either, I cleaned the whole damned 2 bedroom apartment, bathroom, and kitchen included, and even cleaned out my car! I know that for most people, such simple tasks are hardly deserving of a hand clap, but after living with a genuine inability to focus for so long, I had made peace with the fact that I'd have to hire people to clean my apartment for me. Being able to do it on my own (and do it well) is kind of a big deal.

So here I am, into Thursday of the following week, and I'm still laying low. I dunno, I guess I'm just tired. I give so much of myself to so many people, that I'm ready to reign it all in. One of the things that kinda sucks about being social is that I get invited to many places, and people get genuinely offended when I can't make it. The name Malika happens to mean queen, and I take that title and role seriously. Sometimes as a royal leader, you have to show up and support, because when you wear the crown, your support means the world to people. I still act up on Facebook on the rare occasion, but while I was posting 4 or 5 times a day before, I'm scaling back. I even had a hard look at my time with new semi-bae, Justin, and decided that it ain't worth it and I'm scaling back on him too. I feel like he just wasn't available to give me what I need and I don't feeling like settling anymore.
I told myself that after last week, I'd take a few weeks to rest and decompress, but I'm considering taking the rest of the year to do so. Sure, I may still hit the occasional party or night club, but I intend to pull myself back in. My plan is to only give my time to the people that really need it (on occasion), my closest loved ones, or men that really give me the kind of attention that I seek. I'm fucking done with place holders and men that only fetishize me because I'm funny and have a ton of sexual energy. If a guy isn't into my mind and my spirit, then I really don't have a damned thing for him.
So there I am, setting and shifting into a new space. Figuring out my goals and future plans, establishing and setting goals, and turning down to enjoy myself. Perhaps it's the changing of the seasons, with this cooler weather, or just getting older (OMG, I'll be 40 in less than a year!), and starting to focus more on my money and sustaining myself and my son long term. Time to go internal, reflect, decompress, and refocus. I'm okay with that.

Fireflies

Last weekend was one for the history books. One of my best friends since middle school is getting married and we celebrated the bachelorette like only we could. Pole dancing classes, out to eat, and other stuff that I'm not allowed to disclose. But it was #Epic

While out, I happened to be seated at a table with 5 other women, all of them married. And then there was me. I've somehow become the Samantha of the group. The one with the wild sex life and stories. The one with the dirty jokes. The one who bats her eyes and enjoys romps in the hay with men whom a lot of women would feel are unattainable. And I enjoy it. A lot, actually.

But I'd be lying if I said that there aren't times that I want more of an attachment. Enter Ted. Again. Ted and I are doing pretty well. I freaking love that man with all of my heart. So many men love me and want me, but they don't know what it takes to make me and keep me happy.

I was thinking earlier today about how when I was a kid (before this pollution and shit), we'd collect fireflies. We'd often keep them in jars. If we didn't poke holes in the jar, they'd be dead by morning. If we did poke a few holes, the fireflies might live a bit longer, but ultimately, they still died. Those fireflies needed to be free. They needed to be admired for what they were, with the faith that they'd return. And they always did. They didn't need or want to be in jars. That is me.

Men love me, they want to control me, they want to harness me, they want me for themselves. But you can't do that to Malika if you want her to be happy. You have to be okay with sharing her with the world and know that at the end of the day, she'll return. And that's one of the reasons I love Ted as much as I do. He doesn't trip about me seeing, crushing on, or wanting other men. He works in my field and gives outstanding career advice. He supports me when I'm being a spaz, and knows how to tell me to reign it in (when I need it). I can call him day or night if I'm in a crunch. If he sees something out of sorts on Facebook, he immediately calls me to check in and make sure I'm okay. When I had my car accident and was stuttering profusely, he assured me that I'd be okay. He knows what a mess I am, and he's still here, my rock.

I saw him recently, and said to him "I love you." He fucking winced. Really?! Dude, we're over 4 years in. You love me. I know you do. And truthfully, I wouldn't change shit about us. I love who, what, and how we are and I told him that. His response was, "well, if this is perfect, why change it?" And honestly, he had a stellar point. The issue is that, yes, this is fucking perfect now. Nothing that I'd change about him or us. My issue again lands in "what about the future?" He recently said that he considers us "friends." Negro, really? *sigh*

He'd said previously that he sees a strong possibility of us spending our latter years together, by latter years, I mean as empty nesters, which we are both a few years away from. And he recently followed up with us being "friends." That's the shit I'm talking about. Where are we really heading? My fear is that I don't want to move forward, thinking we're going into the future together, and then he suddenly look at me like "what are YOU doing?" I don't want a fucking promise ring. I don't even know if I want a wedding ring. But after David and Fred, I don't want to look back at another decade that went by to only wonder what happened. My friend who happens to be getting married next week has been on and off with her (soon to be) husband for the last 20 years. Part of me is telling myself to stop being a fucking spaz and this shit play out how it wants. And maybe I should. Or not?

I don't need much. But I need to know that he sees me by his side. And him by my side. We're supposed to talk soon. All I know is that I don't want him to be with me because of an ultimatum. I want him to be with me because he loves me and sees my value in his life. I'm willing to move forward if needed. But I really don't want to. He feels like the one for me. But I guess, like all things, only time will tell.

JustIn Case I Need a Mirror

In true Malika fashion, I am enamored yet again. I met him around the way, and our attraction was instant, although I tried my damnedest to deny it and so did he. But just like with most men that I end up really being into, he has that wild streak that drives me. I'll call him Justin.

He's so good-looking. Impeccable body, gorgeous lips, smart as hell, driven, funny, always seems to know what to say and do. God, its nearly impossible not to be drawn to him. And despite him having it all together (or at least seeming to), he's oblivious to it. He had no damned clue he was good looking. Like, he knew he wasn't a ogre, but he had no damned clue that he's a real cutie. He told me recently that I spoke something up when he'd recently had two women hitting on him at one time. I responded by letting him know that he probably gets hit on all of the time and is probably oblivious to it.

He mentors children, is well-respected at his job, athletic, educated, and continues to be driven. And although I keep reminding myself not to get too attached (he's bae, but I know that this one ain't meant to be kept), I'm drawn to something. After some deep soul-searching, I realized what it is about him- he reminds me of myself. Although he's poised and by all accounts, a remarkable human being, he has a hard time seeing how fucking amazing he is. Damn, that sounds so familiar.

I've done good things in my life, and overcome a lot. It is so commonplace for me to hear my female friends tell me that they're living vicariously though me, which I'm okay with. Started a pantry, got my degree, traveling, living my life, have a sex life and history, that ain't too shabby, if I do say so myself. I have fucked men that are so beautiful, they could only be described as works of art, my son is freaking amazing, overcome emotionally abusive relationships, love myself incredibly and take care of myself like very few people ever do. But it never feels like enough. I'll be honest, I'm still running too. Looking for something or someone to validate that I've done good. That I'm smart enough, pretty enough, accomplished enough. Because I don't see it.

I guess I'll just enjoy Justin for who and what he is, while he's here. But its amazing to see myself from this side of things.