Malika, the Manic Pixie Dream Girlfriend

I was online the other day, when I'd learned a term I'd never heard before, the "manic pixie dream girlfriend." Being a woman who loves to learn, I quickly googled the term for a definition. What I'd learned shocked me. Apparently, it's a tv/movie character trope.

According to Google, 

A "Manic Pixie Dream Girl" (MPDG) is a character archetype, typically a young, quirky woman, who exists primarily to provide emotional support and life lessons to a male protagonist. The term, coined by film critic Nathan Rabin, describes this character as one-dimensional, serving as a plot device to help the male character grow, but often lacking a well-developed storyline or agency of their own. MPDG characters are often depicted as bubbly, eccentric, and seemingly carefree, with a tendency to "spark" the male protagonist's life with adventure and meaning.

And I was awestruck by how much I felt like I was essentially reading out my life. One of the articles I read seemed to describe me to a tee! A woman who is quirky, often colorful, and "not like the other girls." A woman who marches to the beat of her own drum, and makes life that much more fun and exciting to the others around her. But one of the things that stuck out to me was that the MPDG was always seen as the accessory. A mere tool, utilized to improve the man's life. A one dimensional character, with no plot line or role in the storyline, with no purpose, other than helping the man grow.

It started to make that much more sense. I'd written before about feeling like an NPC (here) and this just solidified my feelings. That there really exist an idea that free-spirited women are not real characters, just tools used by men, to make them better versions of themselves, with no real feelings, emotions, or interests outside of his scope of existence. What's wild to me is how much I've seen this play out in real time. How I'll take guys to many of my favorite haunts and hideouts and I'll see that little spark in them come alive. How I'll drive guys to my favorite spots for stargazing, and they'll tell me that in their 40+ years on the planet, they've never bothered to look up at the sky at night. How I'll be on the phone with them until the wee hours of the mornings, calming their fears and anxiety. How I uplift and encourage them to follow their dreams, when they feel incapable of getting out of bed. And how it never fails, that the moment I'm having a bad day and need some support, they immediately dismiss me, accuse me of being needy, and are almost disgusted by the idea of me needing anywhere near the same degree of love and encouragement that I've endlessly poured into them.

What bugs me so much about this (in part) is how naturally likeable she is. Like everybody loves the bubbly chicks with the awesome jewelry. No one has beef with the funny, earthy girl. Everyone loves her! But it seems like when her place ends, that's kinda it. Or if she stays with him, she stays relegated to his living accessory. She's not allowed to have bad days or fears and anxiety of her own, lest she pop the bubble of the idea of her being impervious to pain and disappointment.

I took this topic to my therapist the other day. She chuckled when she first heard it, and allowed me to explain it, and I told her that I feel like this is who and what I am to people. She nodded in agreement that I did indeed fit some of that mold.

While I'm in the middle of getting my head together, naturally, I need more bullshit in my life like a repair in my home. And it's not just any repair, either. Nope, it was my air conditioner. I mulled over who to call for this. I called my new handy man (he's cute, but married, and I had to create a rule about no dating anyone who fixes stuff in my house), but he doesn't fix air conditioning. He gave me the phone number for his own ac guy. But as I'm trying to stack bread, I feared calling in a new ac person, scared that I didn't have history with him, so he'd tax me. With all of that, I ended up calling none other than FAMM. Dammit, he's an HVAC technician by trade, after all. And the weather is pretty mild now, but this is Georgia, so I expect my face to be boiling off within another month or so.

I just knew he'd pay me dust, and I wrote him off initially, but he surprised me by being open to fixing  it. He showed up, while I was working from home. Naturally, he looked good. Our energy was different. But I guess in a good way. He told me that he got a job at a local shop, which is why he had to stop by so late in the day. We conversed briefly, but kept it light. I didn't ask questions, I didn't profess to miss him (in part, cuz I really don't). But at the same time he didn't either. He didn't ask what happened the last time we talked, and I wasn't really in a rush to have the discussion anyway. I think that we both finally get it that we just don't work that way and bring too much disarray to one another's lives, and none of want that for ourselves or each other. Its kinda cathartic, actually. That chapter is done and there's no need to revisit it again. Thank God.

I told my therapist today how having Jackson around is starting to soften my anxiety around a future of sex or dating. I appreciate this, especially because he's a therapist himself. We're not going to do anything as far as I can see. I love so much how he's not pressuring me. I guess because there's no reason to. We can just be friends with wild sexual chemistry. I think it's in part because he's not in that space and we just enjoy one another, whether we're physical or not. I really missed his friendship and male energy. I guess we're just made for that. And I'm cool with it.

I feel myself going internal for a while, which is greatly needed. I need to just do me. No dating, no sex. No holding anyone else up. No being some man's accessory. I'm just going to be my own pixie, and only spread my fairy dust where it will be respected. Isn't that all any of us want anyway? Shine on.

Pulling Weeds and Growing Plants, With a Broken Pussy

When I first bought my house, I wasn't overly concerned with the outside. It didn't look like a crack house, so hey, I was satisfied. But as I moved in and started to make it a home, the outside began to matter more. In my 44 years, it was not until I got into this house that I even learned what lawn weeds actually were. Of course I'd heard about them, and I'd heard of people pulling weeds outside of their home, but like I said in an earlier post (here), that wasn't something I was raised doing. I didn't even know what exactly what weeds looked like, but as I started exploring ways to get healthier looking grass, I learned that I have to pull weeds. So somehow, I instinctively knew which little bastards to be pulling. Never even saw a picture of what to look for. My intention is to pull them all and cut this grass down, and then start working on fertilizing what I have and planting some grass seeds.

I'm out there like a fiend in my front yard, almost daily. I'm not sure why I get a bit of a dopamine hit whenever I pull up one of those little bastards by the root. My backyard has it's own issues, which I'm proudly working to correct, but that front yard is going to be it's own project. I get out there and I'm almost hypnotized as I look up and see and immediately pull weed after weed. Perhaps it is the spring weather and extra rain, but I'm seeing my grass get greener and healthier. I've always been a lover of nature, so I guess it only makes sense that I put so much time and energy into building a lawn that most people would be envious of.

Wildly enough, not only am I finally learning how to conquer this yard, I'm also seeing my green thumb finally develop for inside plants. I've killed more potted plants than I care to admit, which has always irritated me, especially with a last name like FLOWERS. I eventually decided to buy an aloe plant, with the hopes that the gel from the leaves would show this psoriasis my face some love. The plant seemed to kinda flourish at first, but then I figured it was growing too big for the pot it was in, and attempted to replant it in a bigger pot. And my dumb ass broke those roots something fierce! I was so angry at myself smh. I decided to allow my little plant a burial of it's own and just let it bow out gracefully, and I left it in its new Hello Kitty pot, to let it wilt in peace. Later, I was at Lowe's (course I was) and I saw a cute little plant. Didn't know much about, but it seemed healthy and relatively easy to care for, so I brought it home. It too was acting kinda funky, but I left it in a window and figured it would do what it does. If it died, it died. But I did at least buy plant food to put in the water. And then while out with my bestie, a woman was selling decorative succulents. I followed her instructions, and the poor thing seemed to be dragging. But I decided to add a bit more water than the woman had suggested. And dear God, it looks amazing now!

In all of these plants, I largely ignore them. They get sunlight, and whenever I remember to get around to watering them, I do. And it's wild to me to see that all I had to do was leave all of them alone, water them on occasion, and I mind my business, let them do the same, and now I have not one but THREE thriving plants that are comfortably living in my home, green and beautiful.

As I moved in and my more experienced homeowner loved ones visited, they'd often mention the many trees around my house. Again, I wasn't overly concerned with them, initially. But day after day of seeing them just made me see and appreciate them more. On either side of my driveway sits two smallish trees. I had no idea what kind of trees they were in the fall. They were naked as a newborn baby, and I feared them either falling, and creating a challenge for me, as I hadn't yet developed my green thumb or bought any serious yard tools. I was assured that they were healthy and not going anywhere, so I let them stay. 

Recently, as I was driving with my son, I mentioned to him the legend about how it is said that dogwood trees were initially thought to be massive and they were used to crucify Jesus. And that the trees felt so guilty, they shrunk up, to the point of no longer being usable in that way. And then, the other day, as I drove home, I saw those unmistakable white flowers on those two trees I was so concerned about. They're dogwood trees! I guess I'm just easily pleased, but I love knowing that I have two dogwood trees gracing my driveway. It just makes it that much sweeter.

I'd set up today to be my spring cleaning day, as I'm not working either job. And I'm not sure how successful I'll be, but I'm trying. I set out earlier to finally burn some twigs, vines, and roots I'd pulled up from the kudzu that was keeping my poor back yard hostage. I'm aware that the average person couldn't care less about the progress I've made in my yard, hell my kid lives here and he doesn't notice anything. But I do. I know the progress I've made and I'm so proud of it.

I'm so in love with how peaceful my life is right now. It's wild that my life is so beautifully boring that the only major concern is pulling up weeds and growing/fertilizing my grass. I've thoroughly enjoyed having my friend, Jackson, back. I didn't anticipate that he and I would ever be close again. When he'd originally pulled away, I absolutely refused to fight for his friendship. I just didn't have it in me. And even when I reached out about the FVIP course, I didn't anticipate that we'd start talking again. I didn't even expect him to to respond.

What sucks about my past with Jackson was how extremely sexual we'd always been. Don't get me wrong, he's my rider (and not like that lol). Even today, when I reached out looking for a good kids' program for my homegirl, he immediately gave me his gym's info. One of my favorite things about our friendship was that he'd match my energy on interest in mental health. We'd always send one another articles about whatever the other had been experiencing, or what we knew the other would find fascinating. Even now, we frequently text one another throughout out days. It's nice to have this back in my life.

I haven't seen him in over a year, but I'd like to. We've discussed meeting up at a coffeehouse one of these days, and I really look forward to it. I know that our meeting will have to be in public, even though I'd love him to see the house. I just don't want to put myself in a position to possibly allow anything to happen before I'm emotionally ready. Although, as the days go on, my overall interest in sex drops even more. I'd told Jackson in passing that dating has my head kinda messed up at the moment. Not surprisingly (for him), he asked what I'd meant, for clarification. When he's present, he's always been attentive about my well-being.

I explained that I've entered a space where I seriously affiliate sex and romance with emotional pain. That even when I meet someone who is gorgeous, I mean drop dead stunning, I tell myself that if I allow myself to get close to them, they'll hurt me. I even get tearful when I think about it. I'm not opposed to dating. I'm opposed to allowing men to use my mind, body, and spirit for a quick release, followed by them acting like (or showing me) I meant nothing to them.

I didn't see it at the time, but I think the professor is the one that finally cracked me. That even though I'd said to him that I did not feel that sex for us would be emotionally safe for me, he assured me that we'd have no problems, and even though we never did anything, the second my guard was down enough to sleep with him, he immediately dismissed me. And he may have been the catalyst, but he's far from the only one. 

As I'm still on my Insecure rewatch, I'm on season 4, and I'm loving how Issa is growing into her own and no longer chasing down Lawrence or Nathan. She's out there "I'm out here growing, and you gotta catch me, not vice versa!" Issa literally went from singing about he Broken Pussy early on, to making moves and creating her own event to uplift her community.

Jackson has been a total gentleman as I navigate this emotionally delicate space. He apologized for being a part of the men who have not always been as kind as they should have and for how I'm feeling. I thanked him for his apology, and reminded him that he did not know. I also took ownership for my past and admitted that there were several men who I'd allowed to spend way more time than they deserved. Jackson also stated that he's ready to redefine our relationship/friendship, however we need to. I'm grateful for that. I'll be honest, I still think about how we used to get down and I even occasionally make small dirty jokes, although I'm aware I'm making them from my home, from behind text messages. Sometimes I think that I'd love to feel him just one more time, but I'm not sure. I just know that at this exact moment, I'm not ready and he and I are both okay with that.

I don't trust myself right now. I've heard the statement "my man picker is broken" and I've never felt so seen. I don't know when I'll be on the other side of this or what that will look and feel like. Will I be happily sexual or will I grow cobwebs down there? I don't know. I'm familiar with the 4b movement, and while I completely get it (on literally every level), I just don't see myself committing to a life completely man-free.

I guess I have the faith of a mustard seed that things will be okay either way. All I have to do is leave things alone, water them and check in on occasion, and watch them bloom. I wonder if I can make that mustard seed grow?

"Fun"

I walked into my therapist's office today, and I knew it was going to be a doozey. Last night, while online, I saw a post that stuck out. A woman explained that men immediately size women up into one of 3 categories- wife, fun, or forgettable. That one stung, because I'd long felt that men met me and quickly categorized me as a fun time girl, even if I never indicated plans or desire to sleep with them. It's one thing to theorize this categorization, it's another thing to see it written out in black and white.

I recall a while back that my former trainer had suggested that I dye my brightly colored hair (here), because he felt that a subtler tone would attract a caliber of better men. And I refused, because I don't want a man who'd immediately dismiss me for my bright hair, without even talking to me. And a year later, I stick with that decision, I only removed my locs because I was ready to. But with some reflection, I now understand more of where my former trainer was coming from.

It's been infuriating to me when I've met men who grow irrationally upset and act as though I've somehow cheated them by not having sex with them. I've come across men who are genuinely angry and act as though I've somehow deceived them, all based on a whole idea about my personality that they developed in their mind. I've had discussions with women who are deemed "forgettable" and attempted to explain how infuriating it is for a man to meet you and reduce you to nothing more than a walking vagina, in spite of your intelligence, education, and accomplishments. And I've heard those women say how they'd love that kind of attention, while I abhor it.

But I guess I can understand why a woman who gets no male attention would be elated to get such adoration. They'd love to be out and meet men who chat them up and want nothing more than to bed them in the worst way possible. And yes, I'll admit that I've had some fun in those times. But I've definitely grown out of it. Sure, bedtime moments have their purpose, but what sucks the most about being the "fun time girl" is that no one seems to ask or care about what you think or want. When you are slapped with that title, the expectation is that you show up, bend over, and pretend to enjoy yourself, lest you make some poor fellow feel uncomfortable for not wanting his creepy attention. And don't you ever try to change your designated station in life by talking about actual dates, relationships, or God forbid marriage. Nope, don't you dare! Guys won't even entertain that conversation with you, or if they do, they'll dangle that carrot of a relationship, until you get hip to the game and eventually realize that it ain't happening and block him.

I grew tearful at how exhausted I get at the idea of men who will place me in the box that they created for me and then play all kinds of sick mind games to keep me there. My dear doc then asked about my childhood. I told her about the relationships with my siblings, and how I had gone from that to a mistake of an ex, followed by the mistake of the ex I got pregnant by.

Coincidentally, I discussed with my doc about my long-term love, Fred. And I admitted to her that I missed who I believed Fred to be, but I don't miss the real him. And then I'd thought about it, and I don't even miss who either of the other exes even pretended to be. Like they were so terrible as human beings, that even in this space of reflection, there is not even a small part of me that misses either or wants either back in my life Seventeen years with Fred, there's bound to be some good memories. Tons of them, actually. Until there weren't. But what kept me with the first ex was that he was my first "love" and my first lover. That was pretty much it. He was mean, shallow, manipulative, and a know-it-all. He had loyalty to no one but himself and I thank God that he got with that lice-infested cum dumpster and left me alone to flourish.

And the ex after that wasn't much better. So even though both of those bastards carried emotional weight, in their own way, neither of them left a positive mark at all. Nope, instead, they left an emotional mess that I've spent years trying to clean up.

But I'm glad that I took this to my therapist today. She helped me to realize how far I've come. That my boundaries are non-negotiable, because I've come to value my peace. That after kissing so many frogs that my love goggles are off and I'm finally able to utilize some serious discernment, by cutting off men as soon as I detect problematic behavior. And learning how to use this discernment is priceless.

Insecure, But Not Really

I'm really settling in to my new house and neighborhood. Unintentionally, the location of my home is in a pretty decent lil neighborhood. I just wanted something in my price range, that wasn't too far out of the city and I lucked up on this little gem. It also happens to be really close to one of my favorite coffeehouses, which is located in a funky hipster neighborhood. I'd already spent tons of time at my favorite coffeehouse, when I lived further out, but now that it's only like a 10 minute drive from my home, I'm able to stop in and vibe there that much more. And to add to the blessings, a friend of mine who I'd met who worked at that coffeehouse, ended up opening a breakfast spot two doors down from the there. I finally managed to make it in for a visit, and fell in love with the food and the great atmosphere, and I now stop in about 2-3 times a week.

Although I go there to mainly stretch my legs and get out of the house, when I have writing or work to do, I still go to my warm blanket known as the original coffeehouse. My buddy loves to give me a hard time whenever I tell him that I can't stay in his place and write at the same time. He swears that I can, but our great conversations about life and relationships is often too much of a distraction. I've also started to become acquainted with many of the regulars, making this place like a mini-Cheers for me. And to add to the awesomeness of the situation, we recently found out that he lives in my neighborhood, like walking distance from my house. He's also a single father of an awesome 10-year-old and I saw her in the cafe today and I told her that I plan to take her for walks with me, which she jumped at the opportunity to do.

It's really cool that as time goes on, I feel myself growing into this new era. My child is growing older and graduates high school in just over a year. I'm out in these streets, turning up, and looking forward to digging into this new and established version of Malika. I find myself walking through these Atlanta streets, attending events and loving my time with some of the most awesome and interesting people around. I can't help but to look around frequently and feel joyful to be able to live this amazingly fun life. And now that my son is entering young adulthood, it makes it that much more for me to look forward to.

I've slowed the yard work for just a second, but Pinterest has been a godsend by giving me ideas for my backyard, since I can't justify the $3k expense for the deck I wanted. I'm looking forward to buying an outside chair set and gazebo and lights, that'll create a perfect atmosphere for me to write outside. And as I get ready for my upcoming beach trip, my high school homegirl stopped in to braid my hair, something I haven't experienced since high school. They're mid-back length blonde braids, that we accidentally created the perfect beach waves on. I love that I'm building the aesthetic to match the era that I'm entering. 

While working from home, Netflix has been my preferred way to pass time between calls. I decided that it's been a few years and high time for a rewatch on the show, Insecure. It's almost embarrassing to acknowledge that Insecure has been a big part of my hotgirl developments. Before I moved to Los Angeles, I saw parts of myself in Issa and saw parts of her fuckery in relationships to my former love of my life, Fred.

Wild how I'm no longer that mindless, stumbling Malika. I'm good and grown Malika. I've landed nicely on my feet. I was even telling a girlfriend earlier today how often I'll hear someone talk about how much they hate their life and the fact is that I just don't relate to that. I go on adventures constantly, my friends are insanely fascinating and entertaining, I'm okay alone or with a group/person, I'm solid in my career, just bought a house, my spirit is amazing, and I'm never lonely. Seriously, it doesn't get much better than this.

And this rewatch of Insecure makes me that much more excited about moving into the era of life where I can adult without being tethered to the care of a young child. Even though he'll always be my baby, now that my son is growing into his own young adulthood, it allows me to focus that much more on delving into who and what Malika is, on her own.

Watching Issa and crew navigate complicated relationships and have the fun social interactions that they enjoy makes me that much more happy to be that woman. And while I no longer anticipate a long-term Los Angeles living situation, I do expect to spend a hell of a lot more time there, once I no longer have to worry about getting my child to school and overall supervision. My season is here and I'm so excited. A season without sex or superficial attachments to men who will ultimately disrupt my peace.

Just me, my margaritas, gym time, the sun and the beach. Turn up, bitches.

F.N.F.

I wasn't completely forthcoming about my previous interactions with my professor in my last post. The fact is that I was immediately drawn to him when I first met him, as my proff. We often joked with one another during lectures. I was older than most of my cohort, I was in my 30s, he was in his 40s and it felt very natural to befriend him. I got A's in both semesters I took as his student, but not for favoritism, I just learned a lot and I enjoyed his class. He made the material easily digestible and I credit him with my being able to get things kick started with the pantry I started, because his class taught me how to adequately defend why certain programs are beneficial to their respective communities.

I don't recall exactly when we exchanged phone numbers, but it wasn't until I graduated and was fully out of school that we started to communicate more frequently. I was out one day and stopped at his house. And all of those animal instincts came out. It wasn't a bad experience, but the truth is that it left me feeling a bit cheap and discarded. Occasionally, over the years, he'd hit me up and share his desire to visit my home late at night, or extended an invite for me to go to his home. And I rejected him every time. In all honesty, I was still broke and figuring out my life when we did what we did, and I felt like he screwed me like a woman with no value. We could be homies, but in my mind, sex was completely off the table, moving forward.

I made it a point to pull up looking damned good when I saw him again. Although it really wasn't for him. I wanted to look good for me. We talked about our lives over the last few years that we hadn't been in touch. I'd asked if he thought about me during our absence. He told me that he did initially, but I'd once mentioned that we would no longer be having sex, and he felt offended that I'd implied that his only reasoning for him being in my life. I gave a genuine apology. I didn't intend to make him out to be some sort of perv, I was more so indicating that I wanted the direction of our friendship to change.

That's a large part of why I was so impressed that he saw the value in me a few weeks back when we hung out. He moved different. He complimented me. He was passionate. We made out that night, and he made it known that I was welcome to come to his home. I wanted to. I wanted to bad. It was all so sexy, and the way he grabbed and kissed on me, it was the passion and yearning I hadn't experienced in a moment. Lord knows, I wanted to throw caution to the wind. But I told him that as far as I am concerned, literally EVERY damned time I have sex, there's drama and bullshit behind it. And I'm just sick of running head first into that fire.

Proff reminded me that we'd slept together previously and there was never any drama or games before. And he was right. And I knew this guy. He's not like the others. But something told me that I needed to head on home. No nookie for us!

 

The next few days we continued to flirt via text. He'd contact me while I was working and I'd text him during his work day. I started to get comfortable. He started to get more familiar. I thought about it and realized that I hadn't had my cheeks clapped in about 3 months. I mean, maybe, ya know? This isn't the  same guy who was dismissive some years ago. I've grown into my own, and he recognized it. 

Within a few days of dirty texting, I decided that maybe he was a safe space after all. I let him know that I was now open to having a romp or two. Hey, summer is around the corner, and he'd make for a decent situationship. And it seemed like the more I was willing to do it, the more he scaled back. We were supposed to get together one day and he said some family popped up and he had some business to handle with him. Ugh. Okay, family stuff. I get it. But then a few days later, when my schedule was again free, we were supposed to get together.

I woke that morning, planning out my day, and dropped him a text to confirm if we were still to meeting later on. And he saw it. That bastard never responded. And THIS is the bullshit I was talking about!!!! I'd told Proff earlier that he was only into the chase, and he disagreed. But when I was pushing his hands off of me, he was willing to fuck me in the middle of a parking lot. And now, here I am, ready to pull out the pretty drawers and rock his world, and he's leaving me on read.

By this point, I wasn't so much mad at the behavior, as I was about the fact that the assured me that he wasn't with the fuccboi antics, while this sure does reek of fuccboi behavior. That's what angered me. He could have left me how he found me. We could have flirted, maybe kissed and gone about our business. But no, this guy made a declaration that he wouldn't cause distress, but that's exactly what he did. 

I texted him told him that I'm glad that I didn't sleep with him, because it was all about the chase for him. He assured me that wasn't the case. I just texted back "okay." I wasn't about to argue and I wasn't about to give him the space to gaslight me. I know what I just saw and experienced and you aren't about to tell me that what just happened is not exactly what just happened.

As I continue to lick my wounds, I'm still trying to figure out how to lead these domestic violence courses. I've asked around, I've called, I've Googled until my eyes are crossed and for some reason, this process has been long and I'm barely any closer to getting answers on how to get this certification. 

There was only one person who I knew might have the answers. But I didn't want to contact him. He ghosted me, the ONE motherfucking thing I ask men in my life not to do. You can curse me out and tell me that you never want to see me again, hell, at least then, I'll have an idea of where I fall in your life. I'll call him Jackson. He's my former supervisor. I grew a lot under his tutelage, and the last time we saw one another about a year and a half ago, I told him that.

He was never my boyfriend, but he was so damned close. I was so physically attracted to him. He's a lifelong athlete, and lately, he's been focusing on boxing, which has resulted in his broad shoulders. That man and I were absolutely carnal in our hey day. And being that we were both therapists, we related on such a deep level. We'd send one another articles about the field occasionally, and he was seriously one of my best friends. I could tell that man anything. Then one day, he started it again. I noticed him pulling away. Again.

I asked him if there were issues. He denied that there was, but he was short with me. I knew his pattern. We'd gone through it before, but I let it pass previously, because at the time, I was being super needy and clingy, so I didn't blame him for scaling back in that instance. But this time was different. But it was still the same. He was pulling away, and when I asked for answers or clarity, he just shut down.

It was easier to move forward this time. I just didn't have the bandwidth to figure him out. I missed him, and I was hurt. I figured that he just had other things to focus on, and I just needed to accept that I wasn't a priority. And it hurt like hell.

But over the last year and some change that he's been out of my life, I've been okay. I've had far less sex, but I'm okay with that. The fact is that the last year or so that he's been gone has shown me how much men have been a disruption to my peace. Like I told Proff, EVERY DAMNED TIME that I allow someone with a penis into my space, it comes with regrets. Even the situations that are supposed to be casual, end up with confusion and poor communication. Men I've been good friends have turned into mindless pussy hounds. To put it short, I'm tired y'all.

I figured that when I texted Jackson to ask about the courses, he'd just look at my text, but not respond. But I was wrong. He told me that he was unsure, but that he'd reach out to some buddies and see what he could pull together for me. Again, after a year and a half of radio silence, I didn't expect traction from him. But surely enough, a few days later, he followed up. I thanked him. He told me that he was still trying to find more information, and that he'd get it to me when he could. I was appreciative, but I was very much still trying to find the info on my own.

April 1st, historically known as April Fool's Day, ended up being pretty bizarre for me, which I'd mentioned in passing to him. He asked how so, and I explained that it would be a lot to text. He sad that he'd like to hear it anyway, but I was at work. He was busy with something, but assured me that he'd contact me the following day. And like clockwork, he contacted me and asked me about my strange day. I called him and told him about the weird stuff I'd seen. I wanted to say so much about he and I. But I didn't know where to start.

After we got off the phone, I texted him. And I told him that he hurt me bad when he disappeared. He admitted that he knows it hurt me, and he apologized. But it wasn't some "here, now shut up" kind of apology. It was a long, thought out apology, where he explained that he'd had some serious stuff going on in his life and he felt like he needed to back up and that it would be better to not hurt me and include me in whatever he was dealing with.

Like his apology took full ownership of everything. And then he admitted that he never stopped loving me, and that he appreciated me loving him through it all. I'm not sure I've ever had a man pour out his heart like that to me. I was floored. Frozen, even. I asked what what was going on that was so hard. He said that it was difficult to explain over text, and that he'd tell me in person.

Motherfuck. I wasn't lying when I said that I'm exhausted. I'm glad that Jackson is back in my life. I missed my friend. I missed how we'd relate about work and about similar childhood situations. About how it was to grow up considered "ugly" by your classmates and suddenly be seen as a hottie. And how difficult that transition is to process. The sex was top notch as well.

I'd love to see him and hug him. But I'm nervous. Because even though I love and missed my friend, the last year and some change has resulted in me being pretty gun shy about dating and sex. I love my guy friends, but I'm sick of licking my wounds. I'd seriously rather be alone than to go through another disappointment or another friendship that has ended because some guy doesn't know how to communicate his feelings.

I'm so sick of having men who routinely act like they have to ghost me, because God forbid they have an actual conversation about whatever their issue is. But then, when I start matching energy, their inner rejected little boy will do anything for me to be the warm, friendly Malika they've always had access to. It's like people feel like just because you're a friendly and warm person, that means you're impervious to pain, but that just isn't true. I feel hurt and abandonment, just like they do.

My homegirl suggested that I meet with him just one time, to have him explain what was going on. But I'm scared to see him. I've always been so sexually attracted to him, that I fear what will happen if we get together. I've already decided that when we meet, it will be in public. I can't bring him to my home, and no meeting at night. I just don't trust myself. I'm tired y'all.