Back Outside

Once again, I have a post that I feel belongs solely in this space- a post about my growth and personal changes. Anyway, I believe that I'd mentioned before that I took on a local retail job to build up some extra money. I never questioned if that was good move for me. I've worked retail for most of my adult life. Even after I first graduated with my master's degree and I had my first jobs in my field, I stayed right there in Petsmart. It was comfortable. It was familiar. It was my back up. I knew retail. 

When I decided that I was ready to step back into retail after a year of working from home at my current full-time job, and a few years only working in my career field, I decided to ask my mentee to hook me up at the place where she worked. I'm too grown and experienced to be running the streets and walking in and out of stores, looking for something barely above minimum wage. Thankfully, her place called me back almost immediately.

Outside of the extra coinage, I was thankful to have something to dress up for once again. Working from home makes you suddenly become a person who lives solely in sweats, because there is no one nearby to look presentable for. It just seems pointless to get dressed to the nines to go sit in a coffeehouse and then go for a Target run. Hell, even showers become optional. But after nearly a month at my new side job, as much as I liked the new people I worked with, I started to face a strange new truth- I have absolutely zero in common with my retail coworkers.

When I'm at my full-time job, I have meaningful conversations with nearly everyone I encounter. We talk about our vacation plans (I was stoked to spend my birthday in Alaska this year- no regrets, it was stunning!), we talk about finances, we mostly have similar educational backgrounds and career experience, many coworkers at my full-time job are even close in age. And while I have very little in common with the retail acquaintances I now share, I struggle to find out where I fit in this new puzzle.

I'm not quite sure how or why it hit me so hard. But all of a sudden, I noticed our disconnect. I live in a rather expensive side of town, nearby the job, and I'm thankful to pay my rent every month, without much hiccup. Most of my coworkers live further out, where the COL is a bit cheaper. I find myself talking to the customers, who mostly live close by, about interest rates and real estate. Or we may talk about our careers, while I discuss my full-time job.

I don't have quite the same rapport with my coworkers at the retail spot, save for the managers who I occasionally chat it up with. I have a therapist, whom I pay out of pocket, and I openly discuss how much I love her. None of my coworkers at the retail spot say much when I mention her. Not that I expect them to. I feel like most of them have no idea what it's like to have a therapist on deck, just for overall emotional support. So how could they comment on something they really can't relate to?

And for some strange reason, this epiphany hit me kind of hard. I'd spent so much of my adult life working low-paying retail jobs, at what point did I no longer feel connected to my fellow retail workers? I should probably feel proud to have moved into another space in my life. But it felt wrong for me to acknowledge that I no longer felt like a retail worker. I felt like I was almost slumming it by working there. On every level in my body, I feel like I am no better than any worker in that store. But we seem to not connect. I just don't feel like I fit in that space anymore and I'm wracked with guilt over it.

A coworker at my full-time job is talking about flying me out to see the Northern Lights with her in the early spring. Another coworker there just got back from Jamaica and she's heading to Cancun for her upcoming birthday. I'm still very much working on having not just one book, but two books under my belt. These are things that I am beyond proud of, as I should be.

I'm not sure how much longer I'll be working retail. The plain fact is that I'm exhausted. I look like I'm in my 20's, but my back and knees are telling a completely different story. I've only been here for a month, and I'm already thinking that I'm too old for this shit and the fact is that I don't need this shit, especially as we go into the holidays and the lines are getting heavier. Maybe I'm getting too old for this and I need to accept that? How can I accept that without feeling elitist? The old me would have rightfully felt quite insulted had someone confessed these feelings to me back then. But much like many other things in life, the experience is quite different once it is something you personally face.

On another note, on Thursday, while my son was getting his hair cut, I'd rushed off, and walked into a nearby department store, in an attempt to get some extra steps on my pedometer. While mindlessly walking around, I ran into a guy who runs a local record shop. We embraced briefly, when he invited me to a podcast that was being recorded at his shop that evening. I gladly accepted.

I walked into the event that night, stressed from the day's chores, but glad to get away. Outside of the friend who invited me, I didn't know anyone. I settled into a couch, next to a man I'd never met. We sat silently, before I finally reached over and gave him my hand. "I'm Malika," I started. He gave his name and I commented on the Temple sweatshirt he was wearing. Within minutes, we were familiar chums. Moments later, another man I'd known, a former writer for Creative Loafing, walked in. I excitedly hugged him, and quickly introduced him and the man I'd just met, secretly hoping they'd make a love connection.

Someone also introduced the photographer of the event. He was a man who's name I'd known, as one of his recent picture books featured a few pics of my best friend. I introduced myself to him and bought one of his books for my friend. I appreciated his dry wit, and I offered him to meet me for coffee one day. He gladly accepted.

Eventually, the show started. I didn't recognize any of their names or faces of the male hosts or the female guests, but I quickly saw that that they would be great assets to the project I'm currently working on. The topic was essentially generational music and passing the torch in the Atlanta scene. Both women talked about attending Tambor parties, and while Tambor isn't quite my scene, I'd consider it adjacent to me, as quite a few of my friends frequent them and the last time I went to one, I saw some of my people there. One woman also happened to be the wife of a well-known tattoo artist I'd once met in passing. For me to be in a room with mostly strangers, I somehow felt like I was among friends and family.

Once recording stopped, I quickly walked up to both women and introduced myself, and announced that I am a social worker. Both women hugged on me and presented me with business cards. Afterwards, the music started. House music. Everyone in the room danced and laughed. The energy was electric. And I had a sudden thought. 

"I'm home."

I don't think I'd realized how stressful the last few years had been on me. I didn't realized that I'd kind of cocooned and went internal for a while. Minimal casual dating/sex. Not really looking to make new friends. Just sticking to what I knew and what was familiar. I focused on my job, my son, my finances, and my sanity. I needed to feel secure again. And I got it. I feel secure in myself. My soul, my spirit, my mind, my body. My energy. 

Still okay with Dexter, even tho I realized things with Love ain't happening. I'm okay just booing up with Dex for cuffing season. I'm enjoying my life on my terms. Just like I'd told Dex before, I have made the mistake of trying to fit people into the mold I want them to be. I'm meeting them where they are. And I like that Dex is where I am. Just living life on life's terms. No expectations and no attempts to move things from where they currently fit naturally.

I'm back outside. And this feels good.

The Circle of Life/Love

I know I'd sworn off my beautiful little corner, but sometimes things happen that just make you miss that version of home. I consider the last 24 hours to be that. I'd started a new blog elsewhere, and although it does still exist, I'll admit that I missed this space and I didn't write there with the same fervor that I did here. 

Anyway, as the seasons change, it has shamefully been a while since I'd felt the touch of a man. I'm so exhausted by the bullshit games that I've really opted just to do my own thing. There was a guy I'd been eyeballing for some months at my old apartment, and we had a brief fling, but I got sick of his inconsistency and he eventually faded away, which I'm actually thankful for. Cuffing season is here, and I have nothing to show for it. I mean, sure, I have a job that I'm proud of, and my bills are paid. But the fact is that my itch hasn't been scratched for a while. 

I'd started a part-time job as part of my desire to save money for some goals that I have. One of the men there happens to be rather nice looking, and he and I happen to be from the same neighborhood, and have some mutual friends. I'd been slowly working on a way to see if dude was interested in just keeping me warm during this holiday months, but when I called him yesterday, he didn't pick up. Ugh. Okay, hint taken, playboy.

I opened up my Instagram page, and the first post on my feed happened to be a musician whom I'd had an interesting spin with a few years ago. I'll call him Dexter. I'd sworn him off when after our last time, I just felt- eh. Funny enough, when I first met him, I was beyond head over heels. I know I wrote about him some years ago, but I don't feel like going back through to find the post. 🙄

We met at a party. He was sitting at a chair nearby. We started talking casually. By the end of the night, I practically wanted to inhale him. I wanted to know more. I learned that he'd had a girlfriend, and was heartbroken, but I scaled back, even though I combed his social media for all I could find. 

The following year, I saw Dexter again. I was determined not to let him get away (he and the girlfriend were no longer a thing). Part of my growth was acknowledging that I put expectations on him back then that were my own, and I was heartbroken when he fell short of who I wanted and expected him to be. I felt that he'd broken my heart, but the fact is that I broke my own heart. Yeah, he did some mess. But so did I. It was nothing but love tho.

Back to today- the guy at work was a work in progress. Plus I was really tired of the song and dance of trying to figure out when and how to approach him about "outside activities." I'd been attempting to play it cool and warm him up to the idea slowly, but I was sick of trying to figure things out. And Dexter's Instagram post was right on time. He's a well-traveled musician. I saw the post that featured some of his music, and I thought back on the night that I sat in his home while he play piano. I decided that since the new potential was playing hide and seek, I might as well hit up the old familiar.

I inboxed him, and asked if he was in Atlanta. I'd seen that many of his last few posts were international. He confirmed that he was, in fact, in Atlanta, and asked what the move was. I wanted to play coy, but the fact is that he and I have warmed one another's backsides enough that I knew that beating around the bush wasn't necessary. I told Dex point blank that it had been a minute, and I needed the touch of a man. I loved his response of "I'm happy to take care of you." Woo chile.

I pulled up late night at the venue where he was. He gave the most amazing hug. He said his goodbyes to his people and we were off. As we walked toward the car, he held his hand out for me to hold. After I royally fucked our previous friendship up by expecting more than he wanted to give, I was wary to take his hand, and I told him so. I said to him "if I hold your hand, I'm going to want you to be my pretend boyfriend," fully expecting him to put his hand in back in his pocket. He shook his hand as an indicator that he wanted full-on hand-holding. I obliged.

While we strolled to the car, I explained to him that I recognize that during our last trip together, I now know that he didn't want a girlfriend- at least he didn't want that from me. And I respect it, and I knew to tamper my expectations this time around. His response? "We'll talk."

While riding, he discussed his time floating around Europe and Africa, and he talked about some musical projects he's been involved in. We both talked about growth. I talked about my love of my job and my financial frustrations. We talked about the past girlfriend he had, and we talked about the mutual acquaintance we met through. We talked about that sticky time in our lives, and how we were both admittedly, a bit of a mess back then. I told him that I recognize that he didn't want me like that back then, and I should have respected it. He looked over at me and said "honestly, I didn't know what I wanted, and I'm still figuring out now what I want." I found his honesty and reflection refreshing.

He confessed that he's made a decision to be more intentional about choices that he makes and that he now realizes that not all of his decisions were wise the last time around. He's scaled back on drinking and smoking, and that he no longer engages in druggie culture that a lot of musicians get into. He'd shaved his head and scaled down his beard. He even looked lighter in the face. He looked more clear and at peace. I was happy for him.

We pulled up to the spot and walked in together. As we stripped down to our night clothes, we didn't get straight into the nitty gritty. He held me. He kissed on me. He caressed me. I again warned him that his behavior was getting him dangerously close to becoming my next pretend boyfriend, but he carried on, not skipping a beat. At some point, I caressed his head and told him that while sex is a dime a dozen, I really missed what he had in that moment-intimacy. The familiarity. Being with someone who sees you and hears you, and recognizes your growth. He looked at me and softly nodded in acknowledgement.

Somewhere during this time, I decided "yeah, he's my pretend boyfriend." And while I recognize how juvenile this was, he humored me, which made me appreciate him that much more. As we parted ways, I then explained that part of being my pretend boyfriend meant that I expected regular dates and meetups. And that I'd occasionally call him to vent when I was having a difficult moment. He giggled and nodded in agreement. And when we parted, he kissed me. Not some half assed hug, he kissed me on the lips. It was everything. It was intimate.

As if that wasn't beautiful enough, I recently noticed that a post that was on my social media had been liked by a moniker of my ex-boyfriend, Love. Coincidentally, I'd been looking for Love a lot online within the last month or so. He's never been the social media type, so I looked for any hint of him that I could find. I immediately inboxed him. 

We chatted briefly. He told me that life has kicked his ass (as it's wont to do), but he's hanging in there. I suggested we meet up for coffee today at noon. He agreed. I walked into the spot, not knowing what to expect. He wasn't in there. I go order my drink, and I look up a few minutes later to see him walking in. I saw that big goofy grin on his face and I instantly melted. We hugged long and hard. We settled in on a nearby couch and began to catch up.

He shared about his mother's declining health and his former fiancé who struggled with some mental health challenges. He basically talked about some genuine trauma he'd experienced. He admitted to some rigidity he experienced from some religious dogma he took part in back then. I talked about Pete. I talked about Ali. I talked about my career. We talked deeply about mental health. We discussed things from our past relationship. I was flattered when he told me the many things that he appreciated about me and how good I always made him feel. We talked about growth, and failure, and challenges. By the end- I wanted so bad to say "yo, I love this version of yourself, let's try this again!" 

Oddly enough, being that I practically just bid goodbye to my new pretend boyfriend made me not want to. I mean, I know it's not real, and I could call Dex and simply say, "I'm going to spin the block on my ex from a decade ago, no love lost" and I know he'd accept it. But I don't want to. I sure as hell didn't expect to love this new version of him as much as I do. He's admittedly a bit more cynical this time around. But I think he needed that. We both did. I'd love to give Love another go. But not now. I want to know him first. At least, I'd like to get to know this new version of him and be friends with that person first.

I drove away from Love feeling- I guess feeling Loved on. So many of my recent encounters with men have been toxic and drawn out. Filled with addiction, resentment and bitterness. Trying so hard to guard my energy from unhealed trauma of the men around me just exhausted me and caused me to retreat. I can deal with breaking up- but I was tired of all of the emotional baggage from the broken men around me.

I don't expect perfection. I just want honesty, respect, and a touch of introspection. And I got it from not just one, but two past significant men in my life, within a 24 hour span. I was heard, and loved on. I was touched and caressed, and heard and validated.

I told Love that I'd like us to do coffee again in the future- he said knowingly that we'll see one another again soon. When I settled back into home, I pulled up Facebook, and wildly enough, the picture from 10 years ago, to the day, was the picture that I'd posted with Love.  Who knew then that we'd meet up one decade into the future and see one another for the first time in 9 years?

So yeah, only that much energy could bring me out of my online shell. I could have posted that on my new blog, but this day belonged here. This moment belonged here. These feelings belong here. I don't know what things will look like with me and Dex or me and Love. Strangely enough, I don't really care. I'm not focused on it. I'm just in this moment. And in this moment, I feel accepted and appreciated. That's all I ever wanted anyway.