Last year, before I left L.A. I'd started on a bit of a quest to meet a few new friends. One of the guys I'd started talking to was a local named Jason. Jason had just moved back from Las Vegas after he broke up with his daughters' mother. Jason was staying with family, but struggling. Never the less, we met up for pho and had a great time. I made it known that I'd be relocating home to Atlanta soon, and we realized that had we met at a different time, we possibly could have worked as a couple. But things were what they were, and stayed in touch anyway.
Time did what time does, and moved us on along. I was back in Atlanta, and Jason had gotten a girlfriend he was mad about. They eventually broke up and he admitted to me that while he initially thought he wanted a relationship, it occurred to him that wasn't the case. Jason and I continued to chat over the year, commenting on one another's posts and occasionally checking in via chat messages. He recently mentioned that he hadn't eaten, when I asked if he needed a few bucks to grab some food, he agreed. I sent him $20 and wished him well. He later on mentioned being in the hospital. I inboxed him to ask what happened. He said to me "multiple abscesses on prostate." I told him that he'd better be okay. He assured me that he would be.
A few weeks back, I finally got my much needed, much delayed tax return. It was highly needed earlier in the year, but by now, I just paid down a few bills and decided that I'd head back to my new second home. I booked a flight for the sunshine and traffic of L.A., excited to touch down, yet again. It recently occurred to me that I've been in and out of L.A. so much that I don't even know how many times I've been now.
I intentionally selected last weekend, because with my upcoming job changes, I knew that taking a regular weekend out would be difficult with my son's schedule and mine. I debated pushing back my trip, but decided to stay on. I'd alerted Fred and my classmate, Amber and decided that having a weekend away was just what I needed.
I hadn't heard from Jason in a few days and I figured that while in town, I'd meet up with him for coffee, or possibly stop by the hospital if he was still there. I went to his Facebook page and saw the plethora of pictures of him. I felt a lump in my throat. I've been here before, so I already knew what it was. I scrolled a little, just to confirm it. Gone. He was gone. I boarded my plane on Friday, he'd died two days prior on Wednesday. I cried.
Granted, Jason and I weren't besties. We weren't super tight. We'd only met a year ago and in spite of us remaining in touch, we weren't best buds. But that was my dude. He was a genuinely good guy, who did right by others. And he's gone now. That makes 5. FIVE people I know that have died in 2022 alone. FIVE.
Fred picked me up from the airport and dropped me off at the hotel he helped me to find, called Hotel June. He went home, leaving me early the next day to entertain myself. I was in West L.A., close enough to the water that I could smell it, but far enough that I sure as hell couldn't walk to the beach. I wandered along the strip close to my hotel and decided that in all of my grief, a nice joint or edible would hit the spot. I was thankfully just a short walk from a dispensary.
I explained to the woman inside of the dispensary what was happening and told her that I needed something mellow. I'd scaled back from smoking weed (not that I was ever a heavy user), in part because it always knocked me out. Even though I was never a heavy smoker, on the rare occasions that I did, I felt myself rendered incapacitated for 8-12 hours, followed by a massive nap. I have no clue how so many people exist like that, because I certainly cannot. Plus I was lucky to have a job that does not test for drug use. I figured, what the hell?
The woman at the counter suggested a pineapple joint. I left out and pretty much found a quiet corner to enjoy myself in. I gotta admit, it felt damned good to be able to unwind, without fear of a cop. I was in a state where marijuana is legal, and I didn't have to worry about any random drug tests on my job. What a world, right? I debated whether to bring that small piece of heaven home with me, but decided against it. My job is pretty coveted and the benefits are bananas. The last thing I want is to ruin it all for a $15 joint. I'll be back and get another one when the time is right.
Fred came by an hour later and we headed on to the Promenade, an outdoor mall. We enjoyed drinks at the Cheesecake Factory, before heading over to Santa Monica, where we walked to the carnival and then on to Venice Beach. I feel more and more at home, the more time I spend in L.A. I loved being at the beach in the middle of October. Granted, it was still relatively chilly for the beach, so there was no wading, and with my freaking luck, it was actually kind of drizzly early on, adding to the drop in temp. But still, it felt like home.
The following morning, Fred pissed me off (of course) and I had breakfast with a girlfriend of mine who went to grad school with me. Fred suggested we head over to Issa Rae's coffeehouse, Hilltop Coffee in Inglewood. That was actually my second time being there. Glad we got there early, because by the time we left, the line was literally out the door. It's a bright, open air space with great food and amazing drinks. I look forward to the day that I can go there with my laptop in hand and post up in a booth by the windows and create to my heart's content.
Anyway, we discussed professional issues we were experiencing in our careers, and of course we discussed men. My friend was aware of things with Fred, but I also discussed my overall dating life and how I feel that most men I've encountered have been nothing more than a noose around my neck and I felt no desire to tie myself down in anything other than a healthy and productive relationship. I found myself talking about the last two car accidents that I'd had, and how they led to stuttering. I also explained to my friend how at times, when I discuss those accidents, I begin stuttering again. Sure enough, I literally began stuttering profusely as I talked about what happened. I always hate the sympathetic stares I get whenever I stutter in front of loved ones.
After a couple of hours, we decided to head on to LAX. I told my friend how much I really didn't want to leave. I hated that I had to board that freaking plane. I wanted to stay and enjoy the sunshine and explore even more of the city and state. My friend said that the cost of living is killing her and that she hopes to return to Atlanta soon. I told her that hope she's still around when I move back.
I boarded my plane heading back home. Funny how I'd almost decided to cancel the trip, and I was only there for a day and a half, but it was just what I needed. Being there energized me and reminded me what I'm working towards.
My son is 15-years-old. A bright boy, who will undoubtedly be able to care for himself. He's so independent, intelligent, and thoughtful, I know that he'll do well. My son and I are quite close and he knows that I'll always be around if I'm needed. But I'd be lying if I said anything other than, "I WANT TO MOVE BACK TO L.A." I will acknowledge that moving back to Atlanta when I did was just what I needed. I got to spend time with my cousin before he passed, and truthfully, I would not have gotten the good job that I have, had I not returned. And this job has set me up for even more opportunities in the future. So I'm even more ready than I knew I could or would be. Now if I could just find a possible boo thang with some freaking sense to spend some time growing together with during cuffing season.
I mean, I occasionally dip a toe in the wonderful *sarcasm* world of online dating. And I met a charming gentleman that lives nearby. I asked him today if he has any children. He told me that he has six of them, the oldest being 21, the youngest is 5. He asked if that was a problem. I'm happy that he was honest, so I wouldn't tell him "HELL YEAH, THAT'S A PROBLEM!" But I mentioned to him that a relationship could never be, because of my plans to move cross country in 3 years. But the fact is, bruh, you got 2 whole decades, (half my life!) with another woman. Y'all have have had wins and losses, birthdays and holidays, births and deaths, sorrows and celebrations, all wrapped up in two decades. PLUS y'all gotta coparent, because you have a young child (and some teenagers) to continue to look after. Yeah, I gotta toss his ass back. I've been very intentional in not having more children. Why would I get with you now and have to start over? I'm done wiping noses and putting down children for nap time.
Reminds me of another guy I'd met. When I asked about his children, he said "I have 3. The oldest two are 21 and 22" with no mentioning of his youngest. Naturally, I asked about his other child. "She's 6" he finally 'fessed up. I explained to him my desire to begin traveling the world soon. He shared that he too wants to travel the world, however he wants his daughter to be able to travel at times too, hoping to make her well-rounded. I can certainly appreciate his desire to show his daughter the world, but all I could imagine was some child ruining my cruise around the Mediterranean, all because she was cranky and past her bed time. I ended things shortly thereafter.
Three more years. That's it. Just 3 more years and I can move back and live the life that I want. I'm hoping to tie my tubes soon. I don't want to experience any other connections that will hold me down and keep me from living the life that I want. I don't want to be tied to anyone else, for any reason other than love and mutual respect. Lord knows that I'm also looking at retirement. The goal is to pay off my car note, build my savings, and raise my credit score in the meantime. Once my child is out of high school and in college, I can focus on my retirement. With my current job, I can retire at 62, as long as there are no major issues, like kids.
I love my baby. He's my world, and I don't resent him for a sec. Although, I'll be honest in admitting that I had no clue what I was getting into when I had him. And now I know. And with that, I'm good on having another one. I want to be free. I want to languish at the beach, and attend dance parties, and I want to not have to answer to anyone. I just want my freedom. Just 3 more years. Ain't it great?
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