Fred: You Can't Go Home Again

There's just something about this time of year. The sun, the warmth, the freedom. This time of year is typically when I start planning for a trip out to L.A. And with that, Fred will be there at LAX, waiting for me. Not this time around though. I ended things with him. I had to. As much as I love him, the more work I did to sort through my own shit, no longer could the good override the bad. The overwhelming problem is that when he's good, he's great. And when he's bad, he's an asshole. And I'm too grown and accomplished to be accepting crap for anyone, especially him!

He once admitted to me that his less than kind moments towards me are more based on his own insecurities and his own challenges with his religious upbringing. And I get it. I've always been able to give him grace. I know he loves me. But at some point, baby you gotta do that work to unpack your own shit and not take it out on me. All I've done is love you, in spite of it all. I shouldn't be the one being punished here.

I saw him last June. I'd rented a hotel so that we could be in separate beds, with no temptation for anything inappropriate. Although we avoided sex (I'm sure I could have done it if I'd wanted to), we did manage to do some cuddling. I told him that he felt like home. And I meant it. Two decades getting to know one another created a bond I have yet to match. Some things have come close, but nothing like what he and I have had. As much as I've been thinking about him lately, in my spirit, I absolutely know he's thinking about me too. And that's what hurts. That I know that I could always fall right back into who and what we were. We'd always return home to one another. I've theorized that our demons recognized one another. He'd absolutely shut down that statement, saying that he has no demons. However, I know that's horseshit.

I think that's part of what always kept me able to deal with him, because even in his weird moments, I still get him. In spite of having a well-documented fear of commitment, I loved that I could always return to him. He was home. I've struggled with men who wanted to be my everything, and wanted me up under them constantly. I loved that with him, no matter where I went, and no matter where he went, we'd always find our ways back to one another. I'm not delusional enough to believe that there's not some degree dysfunction in that. I know it was dysfunctional, but it was still comfortable. It was familiar. It was home.

So yes, this weather always makes me think about him and L.A. Word on the playground is that he may make an appearance in Atlanta for the Jazz Fest next month. I wasn't particularly planning to go myself, until I learned that Donnie would be performing. So I guess I'll see...

At some point a few years back, Fred and I had talked about embracing a serious relationship, once my son is out of the house. Maybe that's why I'm so nostalgic lately? Pumpkin graduates in 34 days and I'm definitely in the streets more. Perhaps I'd subconsciously started thinking about the what ifs? Every now and again, I envision that I'll run into him again. I'm not going to call him. I refuse to walk back into those old patterns. We'll never be who and what we once were, and we'll never be in a serious relationship. That's not who he is and that's not who we are.

And I gotta be okay with that.

Peopling While Popular

Spring is here and it is springing!! Last week, I got back from NYC with Pumpkin. Going in, I was sure that I was signing up for the trip from hell, but I ended up seeing my first Broadway play, for just $45 and I found myself sitting front row at the play "Joe Turner's Come and Gone" which starred Taraji P. Henson and Cedric the Entertainer. I'd always told myself that I wanted to see a Broadway show one day. I even met one of the stars, Joshua Boone, after the show. That's certainly a hell of a way to scratch an item off of your bucket list.

While in NYC, I spent time with a homegirl who knew all of the cool spots and I'm grateful that my connection to her led me to my Broadway hookup and standing in line to get my ticket, I happened to meet another woman with heavy ties to Atlanta, and she and I shared several mutual acquaintances. The new friend and I then agreed that we would attend the Atlanta Jazz Festival together, to see one of my favorite singers. I've said it before and I'll say it again, my life is amazing. But it wasn't always so.

While I was grieving what I did not understand was an emotionally abusive relationship, the mentally unstable chick he ended up with (I thank God every day that I avoided that mess) made a comment about how POPULAR she was. And I took that, and it fueled me. She may have gotten the man. Yep, she got him. But I know that if I had nothing else, I had the people. I decided that I'd show her what popularity really looked like. She won the battle, but I damned sure won the war.

I made a conscious effort to show her how amazing my life really was. I'd take pics of my social life and demonstrate who was really popular. I remember one particular picture that was taken, and seconds after, I'd burst into tears and ran into the bathroom. I was intentional about posting pictures of me all over the city, living it all up, because I wanted her to see what popular really looked like. What was wild that while it was initially all a display to show her that she's not nearly as hype as she thought she was, I started to really love it. I started to meet so many people and actually enjoy myself. The people I met were so fascinating that I just wanted more. It went from being a big show for her, to becoming a life that I'd started to really lean into and love. I'm pretty sure that the crazy bitch has moved on to stalking other people now (hopefully, but nothing surprises me), but I know there's another male from my past who now follows me. So even though I'm no longer trying to show off my amazing life, I'm pretty sure he's following me and reading my words and looking at my pics, essentially sitting outside of the club, looking in.

During that previous period of turn ups, I got pregnant. Obviously, I had to scale back my partying ways. But as my baby got older and the shackles of parenthood started to loosen, I slowly started to get back out there. Now, as I count down, I'm definitely back in the streets. Believe it or not, it's not about shallow partying or drinking. It's about my genuine love of people. I truly love seeing people have a good time. This weekend, I went to another event, and I brought a couple of women from Kansas and Alabama and I loved showing them my favorite hangouts and introducing them to my people. They were amazed at the Black excellence, and the music and the fashion. 

And it often isn't until I'm with people who are homebodies and/or from other places that I'm reminded of how exciting and fun my life really is. And what an absolute blessing it is to not just be around exciting people, but to personally know and love on these folks. And being loved by them is its own blessing. On Saturday night, I looked over at a handsome guy standing next to me and said "you're kinda cute!" and he told me that we follow one another online. Come to find out that I'd actually been looking at his Instagram page just 2 days before, due to us sharing mutual friends.

As I sit in my favorite coffeehouse, unpacking it all, gratitude seems like such an understatement. Things I'd previously prayed for are so far away, as I lean into being grateful to what I was given instead. It's true, if you want to make God laugh, show her your plans.