Who hurt you?

There's a guy from my past, who I'd had a major crush on, some years ago. Life did as it does, and we never got together, but remained homies. Over the years, we would occasionally reach out to one another to catch up. We went a stretch of time without communicating and I started to wonder if he was even still alive, to the point of checking for obituaries under his name.

Anyway, some years ago, my best friend and I visited the guy friend. I'll call him Gary, at his home. Gary lived with his girlfriend, and they had 5 large dogs that they wrangled like cattle through his home. I didn't necessarily understand their animal household arrangement, but as the hood adage goes, "if you like it, I love it." The couple seemed to pair nicely, and I assumed that at some point, they'd welcome their own little ones. They talked a little about Gary being sick at some point, and on the brink of death and how his loving girlfriend was there, by his side. When we left, I joked with my bestie about them becoming "those people" whose dogs were like their children, but not my monkey, not my circus, ya dig?

Some years later, Gary hit me up, and we decided to meet for drinks and to connect. He was no longer with his girlfriend, but our flirtatious interests in one another had faded by then. Nevertheless, I asked about things with her. I told him that truthfully, I'd always assumed that he would get her pregnant, and he admitted that he was definitely trying at some point. I silently questioned his fertility, but I never mentioned that to him. During our conversation, it became clear to me that he'd wanted a traditional family. He wanted the little lady in the kitchen, barefoot and pregnant, while he brings home the bacon. I mean, I get it. He's always been a bit of a country boy. I also see that the gods were shining down on me, that we never got together in that way. Cuz God only knows how much I wanted to, way back when.

Gary shocked me by being a smidge judgmental about women. He shared that his sister had spent her life, living for herself, and how she finally found a man that she likes, and that she is in her 40s, and her fertility may not be what it was. He basically reduced his own sister to her ability to have kids. As if she had no value to a man, other than her ability to incubate babies. I mean, EW. I pointed out to him that his way of thinking was a bit- uh, dated? I said to him that she can still be a good person, and happily married, even if she's in her 40s and childless. I also pointed out that he may not even know what she really wants, in that regard. But no, he held fast, that she'll never find a man to marry her and have a family, now that she's in her 40s. It was disappointing to hear someone I'd revered so heavily, have this kind of thought process.

Welp, in spite of it all, I realized that it had been some years, and I'd love to check in on Gary again. I was shocked to learn that he'd sold his house, due to rising taxes (big mistake, but what do I know?), and looking for a home to rent. We were supposed to go grab food, but the plans changed. Anyway, somehow, we started talking about dating. I tell everyone that I'm happily dating-free and sex-free. This is working well for me. Gary went on to share that he's had a string of bad relationships, and feels that women lack accountability. 

Say what now?

He said that 80% of women have children with 20% of men. I asked for the source of this information. He seemed offended that I didn't readily accept any random numbers he threw at me as fact. Sorry bro, I went to grad school, and I learned that you can't just take numbers from anyone and call them facts, you should be mindful of your sources! He seemed, and I hate to say it, but bitter. We had an agonizing 3 hour phone call where he basically blamed everything wrong in life on women. He talked about how single-parent households are ruining people. He blamed those bitter, miserable women for keeping their children from their fathers. And I mentioned to him that many men don't want to do the heavy lifting of raising families, but what do I know?

I said to him that quite often, the fathers are toxic and most women would love to have had a healthier relationship with the fathers of their children, myself included. He called bullshit, claiming that most mothers withhold their children from their fathers, out of spite. It was a long, arduous conversation, where he was just determined to blame women for all of the ails of society. It was heartbreaking.

This particular guy was extremely well-respected before he disappeared from everyone. I followed this guy around, like a lost puppy for years, in my early 20s. He was gorgeous, and many women were happily trying to get with him as well. And now? He's bitter and angry. I think he resents that he never got the wife, the 2.3 kids, the house and the dog he felt like he was owed. 

I miss that part of my life. I mean, I miss blissfully chasing him around, before he became this. But he never got the life he expected. He's angry and he seems to genuinely hate or severely dislike women. Poor bastard. But I refuse to wear his negativity. Cuz my life is good, happy, and peaceful. Marriage or no marriage. And I am grateful.

Babies

Fred and I have had a few close encounters of the baby kind, during our 2 decade friendship. Although I was with him as I was ending my relationship with my ex, who I was still living with, I was always sure to strap up. I knew better than to be living with one man and complicate my life by bringing home another man's child. But in the following years, we were not always as careful. I'd occasionally ask him what he wanted to do if we had a slip up. He always left it as the ball was in my court on how we'd proceed. I respected that, and although we were never intentional about trying for a family, I felt good knowing that if that ended up the case for us, that he'd be a great father.

However, while I swung wildly between apathy and abso-fucking-lutely not, on my willingness to have his child, as I start to really sundown on my own fertility, it's made me look at some things differently. I'm really enjoying this part of my life. My one and only child is becoming quite the young man, and I'm so proud of the progress he's made in life. He's not just my son, he's a person I genuinely love and like. Even if he wasn't my kid, I'd think he was a rock star.

I love that I'm able to travel on my own now. Money is still tight, but I can do things for myself and plan out my future. Settling into the house I bought, and finishing up buying the last bits of furniture, I'm starting to feel like my life is complete. If I dropped dead tomorrow, I'd really be okay, except for the fact that I hate the idea of leaving my child or any child to this nightmare of a society, without me being here to guide them.

But that fear hasn't stopped me from grieving "the baby that never was" lately. The fact that he never got me pregnant is sheer craziness. In my right mind, I understand that God was looking out for both of us. Our friendship works the way it does because there are no extra expectations. He shows up as his "best" version of himself and that works for us. Bringing babies into a situation makes shit real, very quickly. We never had to divide feedings. We never had to worry about diapers or child care. Babies can certainly bring out the worst between two people and who needs that kind of mess in their life? We stayed together because we like one another, not because we had to. That's one of my favorite things about our friendship. That we're here out of choice, not obligation.

But still, for some strange reason, I've been thinking about the what-ifs and if-onlys lately. While I work on getting my one and only baby out of high school, I can't help but to wonder what my life had been like had he and I taken the plunge or been a bit less careful in the past? Of course, that's easy to say now, as a home owner, with a master's degree and pretty solid career, as that wasn't always the case. Ironically, I also understand that had I brought a baby into our situation before I was settled, there's no guarantee that I would have made it here, which is a feeling that I'm grateful for, but I still struggle with.

I recognize and I am extremely grateful that at 45, as it stands, my life is pretty awesome and I certainly would never want to bring a baby into my life, at this stage. That is not appealing to me at all. Some of my slightly younger homegirls are starting/expanding families, and some friends my age are starting their baby journeys for the first time. I'm good on that.  I love and like myself more and more every day. I'm a free spirit and an independent thinker. My only child continues to make me proud. I'm looking forward to traveling around even more and finally taking advantage of this passport. I have the life that I literally prayed for. So why am I so caught up on what could have been?

Love- I Guess

I'm on the other side of Dres' funeral now. There were 4 events to commemorate his life. I was out of town for the first 2 of them. Kinda glad that I missed 1 of those 2 though. I was definitely in attendance for his funeral and celebration night at MJQ though. It recently occurred to me that although I knew him as Dres, I think I got to know the actual Andre. I mean sure, I saw him at some events and I cheered him on, but I'd kinda gotten out of the party scene. Our time was always good though. I found myself thinking back on those smaller moments, like the Monster Energy jacket he'd given me, that I wore everywhere. Or that time I was hungry, so he gave me the coco bread sandwich he had. Overall, I miss my friend now and I always will.

On another note, I went on my annual birthday pilgrimage. I swore to myself that I wouldn't go and that I'd save the money, but I went anyway. I even met Smokey Robinson in Modesto, California, so no regrets at all! I'd spent a few days in L.A. Had I known that I would be on talking terms with Fred again, I'd have spent more time there. He works and when I get in town, I tend to visit my favorite haunts and check in with my friends, so when getting my hotel for the night, I opted for 2 beds, so that he could stay the night too. I felt it was the best way to get in some time together, without the temptation of nookie. I noticed that whenever I crash at his place, he's up and at 'em, bright and early in the morning. And whenever he crashes in a hotel with me, he tends to sleep in. I'm sure he never noticed it, but I think that's because he feels secure with me, and I appreciate feeling needed in that way, while I typically resent it with most men. I love watching him rest.

I'm proud to share that I managed to share a hotel room with him for 2 full nights and nothing happened. I'll admit that was the closest I've come to breaking my streak though. To his credit, he never tried to force the issue, in spite of our long history. My vag-watching homies warned me that if anyone would be the ultimate temptation, it would be him and they were right, but I held firm. 

I noticed though, that there'd been a shift. He's been kinder. More verbally affectionate. As I've stepped away from sex, it made me a bit more contemplative about dating and who meant what to me. I'll still maintain that if I ever entered a serious relationship (which I don't see happening, as I'm on my dique hiatus), I'd commit myself to staying far away from Fred. Healing, adult Malika recognizes that neither of us could be in a serious relationship and keep our friendship going, on this level.

Throughout my trip the Pacific Northwest, I had another realization- it's been 20 years with that dude. He's the last person I was seeing before I conceived my son and he even visited me in the hospital, after he was born. I often realize the length of our relationship through comparison to my son's age. Yike and wow. It hit home that even though he'll never be my husband, I love him. I love him in a way that I never loved any man, even my son's father, who I'd lived with for a while. I love this dude. I love that we have similar interests in movies tv, and I never have to beg him to go anywhere with me. I love that I can trust him and that he trusts me. I love that even if I get mad and say something below the belt, he's still there when I return with my tail between my legs. And he loves me too. Even if I'm not sleeping with him. It works in it's own, weird way. He's not the man for me to intertwine my life with. But I love him. And he loves me. It's confusing and weird though. And I'm okay with that.