I'd reached my breaking point. It was a long-distance thing, and because we'd had so much in common, I continued to coach him on what I needed and wanted. And nearly every time, he delivered. I was smitten and I appreciated his effort. But what else did I need that I never got? His physical presence. Sure, we could sit on the phone for hours and discuss our favorite Stevie Wonder records and dissect the greatness of Marvin Gaye. We talked about house music and coincidentally, we knew many mutual Atlanta heavy hitters, and whenever I'd tell him I ran into such-and-such, he knew them well. We were both book lovers, who happened to share a love of biographies.
In many ways, he was perfect. And because of our commonalities, I let his physical absence slide. But it started to get old and I told him that. Initially, it was due to his job. He had quite possibly the worst working schedule an individual can have. But still, I worked around it. I made the journey to see him early on. Only one time though. I needed to know that we meshed, and we did. Well, sorta. There were some things that were left to be desired, and because I liked him and saw potential, I told him. I believed in him enough to give him the chance to see it through.
And eventually, the job was no longer an issue. I was excited. I'd already convinced him that the job was dead weight and he needed to do something else, so he was in the process of interviewing anyway. He had a side project to work, which he did. We texted throughout the day, and that evening, he updated me about the gig he'd just completed. He assured me that if he was paid in cash, he'd come down the following day.
I checked in the following day, wanting to know how to plan out my weekend. That's when he casually told me that he needed to drop something off to a friend way later in the day and he'd hit the road then. The issue was that it would take several hours to get here by car, so rather than drop the shit off early, he'd leave late. I already knew what that meant. I didn't feel like hearing "it's kinda late to get on the road, so I'm coming another time" because that's exactly what was going to happen. I casually texted back "No worries." And I meant it. I wasn't mad. I was fucking done.
For several months I'd accepted excuse after excuse of why he couldn't appear. The job was no longer a hindrance, he'd just been paid well for a gig, and could easily drive to see me. But once again, there was some bullshit going on. I festered. I chatted with a girlfriend of mine and the more I talked to her, the more I knew it was time. I texted him a nice little message, basically saying "I enjoy your friendship, let's keep it that way."
I meant it too. I really do enjoy and appreciate his friendship, but the space he was attempting to occupy was not being met with the attention I'd require. It's one thing to be a guy that I'm fucking, it's completely something else to try to be my man. I was done with feeling like everything in his life took priority, and it finally hit that I'd never be number one, even in the get-to-know-you stage. I'm glad we never did the do, even though we'd talked about it. How could we? I never saw him.
He texted me back that he had plans to come to town the following weekend. I informed him that I already had plans, so whatever. Truthfully, his response agitated me even more. He just casually blew me off, in spite of me warning earlier him that he was on his last leg, and he just assumed that the following weekend would be better? Nah, playboy. Think again.
But then he texted me with those words. "Please don't give up on me." In an ideal world, that would hit different. But it didn't. It struck an all too familiar chord. I had another man once hit me with the "please don't give up on me." And what I took from being asked not to give up on him was me seeing that he knew that he was fucking up, but he went full steam ahead with it anyway, with the expectation that when he was ready, he'd show up and show out.
I told him quite honestly then that I need to be with someone in closer proximity, and so does he. He didn't respond. I've wanted to call him, but I decided not to. I will at some point. Just not now. I continue to think that he's a great person. Just not great for me. I'm glad that I was wise enough to let Hot Girl Summer Malika do her thing, while testing out the waters with dude. No need to shut off my steady supply of attention and back scratchers for a maybe, ya dig?
When I envision myself with a significant other, I see someone who cannot wait to be in the same room with me. Someone who would move heaven and earth to see my smile in person. A man whose only wish in life is to see me and feel my lips on his one more time. And I've had that from men before. Granted, they all had some funky shit going on too (which is why I left them alone, obviously). But this ain't it, and I think it's time we stop pretending that it is.
I feel myself entering a season of contemplation. I think I'm going to scale back on dating for a while. I need to get my funds and my mind in order. I'm so glad it's fall. Time to get back to writing and being goal oriented. I bought my house (hallelujah!), but now the goal is to pay down some bills so I can work on some household improvements I want to make and paying down the actual home. I don't want or need the distraction of false promises, I've had more than enough of those. Time to focus and plan.
***
Tiombe Lockhart does an amazing version of the song "California Dreaming." I loved it way before I'd ever made a decision to move there. I didn't even know that one of my faves, Robert Glasper, was on it. No wonder I've had this song in rotation for over 20 years now. Anyway lately, the lyrics have been hitting pretty heavy.
"All the leaves are brown
And the sky is gray
I woke up in the world
And I was still here
I wouldn't have this day
If I was in L.A"
And honestly, on some of these dreary days, I think how much I'd love to just hop a plane and go sit on a beach in California. Not like it's fun in the sun weather there now. But it ain't this.
When I was still dealing with Fred, I'd use any excuse to take a long weekend and go see him. But the last time I saw him was- well, just that. No need to rehash it here. But it was time. It was beyond time. He's done and said some fucked up things over the years, however this one just pulled out the last shred of interest I had in him. I didn't cry. I was cried out by then. I didn't even spend days or weeks mulling over it. Yeah, I vented to some friends, friends who knew for years that I could do much better, but that was pretty much it.
Fred was also pretty annoyed that I told a mutual friend of his that he and I had been doing the nasty. I think he felt more annoyed that I'd managed to destroy the pristine image he'd managed to build for himself. The more I learned about L.A., the more I understood his draw to it. Millions of people go there regularly, to create their new identity. And I showed up like a hurricane and swept away his precious reputation. I'm not apologetic either. Don't do bullshit to me and then expect me to help you maintain your good boy reputation. I don't have shit to hide. No one can hold a damned thing over my head, and I live that way on purpose.
He still comes to mind, on occasion. It sucks that all of my L.A. people pretty much left. They were priced out and sick of the crime. It sucks, because normally, I'd have Fred pick me up from the airport, and then I'd go brunch or shop with homegirls and pick someone to crash with for a day or two, before returning to my mundane life in Atlanta. But that life and those resources are gone. My high school bestie is here, and she happens to be from L.A. We've discussed flying out for a weekend, and I'm sure we will eventually but like me, she's lining up some ducks and paying down bills firstBut even though he's no longer my go-to L.A. guy, I still look back fondly on him. At least on the old version of him that I continued to believe in. I knew that guy, and I loved that guy. And I still do. I still love and cling to the person I knew who made me feel special, who loved me and traveled with me and confided in me and supported me, and stayed on the phone for hours, and partied with me. I really do love that version of him. But this guy? This guy right here? I can't help but to go all Mariah Carey. "I don't know him."
I have no idea where my long-term beach cutie went. Perhaps it was a mirage. Actually, I know it was. And in some strange way, I'm grateful for the act he put up. I loved that act, and I believe in my heart of hearts that the same act loved me too. I think I'm grieving that period and that act. And it's okay to grieve it, but it's time to embrace reality, not who people pretend to be, but being surrounded by real people. People who are honest and genuine, and loving.
I continue to be amazed at the beauty of the people around me. They are loving, intelligent, kind, supportive, all of that. And the more I work with lonely people, who are at their lowest, the more grateful I am to have individuals who are flawed, but sincere. Individuals who possess loyalty, integrity, and a heart as big as all outdoors.
So I may be entering another season where I sit back and pour into myself. It also helps that I just had a small operation that put me out of commission for a while, not that I was planning anything anyway. No centering men. Nah. Just writing, focusing on my child, my money, my goals and my future. My new way of living is to let the trash take itself out. Seems to be easier that way, ya know?