More Pete

Man, if you'd have told me a year ago that I'd be this devastated about the loss of a 47-year-old white dude from Philly, I would have laughed in your face. The crying spells have stopped, but I'm in a perpetual state of depression, which I can't quite afford right now. I pretty much have to drag myself out of bed, but I'm surprisingly thankful for the obligations that require me to get up and be productive. I need to be job hunting and putting on a good impression. Not grieving and wearing all black. My supervisor suggested that I speak to someone about my grief at my job. I tried to break through this on my own, but I'm failing at that, so I just decided that I'll go speak with my counselor at school after all. Lord knows I'd love an appointment today, but I settled for 2 days from now instead.

Its not so much the sudden loss anymore, its more of the "what ifs," and "if onlys." I mentioned earlier that Reisha was the one that told me to quit being stupid and not let Pete's race be a thing. Now whenever I see a dark haired white male, my immediate thought is that he should be Pete. I went out to eat yesterday and I saw a black female taking pictures with a tall white guy and they were a couple. And my thought was immediately, that should be me and Pete. Some of our last text convos were me saying that I couldn't wait for us to just chill in a coffeehouse to talk about life and get inside one another's heads. His response was "sounds like a plan." Now here I am, in the coffeehouse that I couldn't wait to show him, with all of the art I knew he'd enjoy. And I'm alone.

At the balloon release, I was pretty devastated. Don't get me wrong, plenty of tears from others, but yeah, clearly I was distraught. Yesterday a friend called me and announced that he'd been fired from his job for sexual harassment, which he'd never done. But suddenly innocent jokes he'd made became a source of judging him and firing him as it became a his word against hers type of situation. It all took me back to Pete again.

One day I vented to Pete about not agreeing with some management things that happened at the gig. A few minutes after my vent, I made him promise not to repeat anything. He responded by saying that my words were safe with him, and asked that I not repeat anything he said as well, which I obliged. Which would be why my coworkers may have been surprised at my grieving him. We seriously kept our friendship a secret. On the day he kissed me after I drove him home, rather than leave from work, I had him meet me across the street at a gas station, so that none of the prying eyes would see us. So yeah, they got Work Pete, I got Pete.

But nevertheless, here stood my lesson. I stood around crying my eyes out. I told another woman I'm close with about myself and Pete, but my sudden fear is that my extreme show of sadness would indicate more in our relationship. I showed my hand. He and I never had sex. But we were close friends. So close. And now, here in my grieving, I've said far too much. At the end of the day, I need a job. My rent is kicking my ass at $1k a month, and as much as I want to just jump in a hole, my son depends on me to be a functional adult to keep our shit together. So watching my friend complain about his misconstrued words, I guess I took another lesson from Pete. Work is work and home is home. Inappropriate jokes are for your friends, not your colleagues. Pete knew. And he just showed me.

Pete 2

So I'm on the third evening since I learned about Pete. I thought that by now I'd be up laughing and back to my old tricks. The fact is that I can barely get out of bed. I'm still crying a lot although a bit less. I had to admit to Daisy today that even though Fred is here on business, I'm in my own head too much to pay him any attention. The fact is that I'm not the most pleasant woman to be around right now. I'm still grieving tremendously. I didn't really realize how much he'd meant to me until I lost him.

I've been thinking a lot about our dirty jokes. Those moments of alone time. I took it out of my original blog that I'd posted, but we kissed once. It was a lot tongue. He kind of caught me off guard. But what I remember was the way he kissed my neck immediately after. It was just a peck, but man, that neck kiss had me in orbit.

Yesterday, we had a balloon release at work where people were able to talk about Pete and how much he meant to them. It was nice that everyone had their memories of Pete, the coworker, but Pete the person off the clock was amazing. I also learned that he died of a heart attack, and not a relapse, something that worried me. I've been going back through his Facebook page, looking at his pictures. The fact is that the second I learned his last name, I'd been stalking him online, so I knew of his proclivities before he knew I did. I remember how Sky looked at Pete's Facebook page at the art he posted, and immediately knew that based on his artistic taste alone, he and I were a perfect match.

I told Pete of my commitment issues and Pete laughed, because he understood completely. I've taken to reading my cousin Jessica's blog about her time missing my cousin, Jarronn. I hoped it would lend me some comfort, but Jessica talked about losing her husband. I didn't lose a husband, I lost a "work husband"/friend. Completely different. Although, I have to admit that as i read more into it, grieving is grieving and healing is healing. I don't know how I'll manage to finish out this internship though. The fact is that Pete was such a large part of my days. I happened to throw together a cute outfit the other day, and I decided that I'd wear it the following Friday for Pete. Not knowing that Friday would be the day of the balloon release because Pete was gone. The outfit called for a cute, brightly colored scarf. But when the day came, there was no way I could wear a bright scarf. I stuck largely to all black. I'd been in the process of painting my bedroom to make it bright and colorful. I needed another pint of finish a portion of it. I haven't bought the paint and lord only knows when I will. In the meantime, I'm simply going to leave it unfinished.

What has been hard for me is the idea of saying goodbye to such a dynamic spirit. The idea of "goodbye" tore me to pieces. Goodbye meant forever. I can't get up and smile like everything is okay if I don't have my beacon of life to shine on me. Every time I thought of the words "good bye" I was in tears again. In being a medium, Pete has been kind enough to communicate with me. Yesterday, it occurred to me that I would like to hear music other than my Stevie, although Steve has done a great job capturing my emotions with "Never Dreamed You'd Leave in Summer." I climbed into my car, and looked down and staring at me was the cd for the soundtrack for the movie Panther. That cd happened to contain one of my favorite songs, "We'll Meet Again" by Blackstreet. For the first time in a while, happy tears appeared.

Pete was kind enough to continue to whisper in my ear. He told me how he feels about Fred (gonna leave that one alone) and when the kid walked up to me and passed gas, Pete quickly responded "NICE!" When I think about my time with Pete, sometimes I wonder if he picked me or if he and I picked each other. Sky pointed out that based on some things, Pete was an introvert. I can't believe I missed it, but he was right. Pete was one on one, not one for large groups. I invited him to a cohort's wedding and he was kind, but quick to decline. But when he and I were together, our time was amazing. I'm not sure how it happened, but I'm so thankful for that fateful day when we stopped as he was pushing that wheel barrow. Lord only knows how boring my life would have been if we'd never stopped to chat that one day.

What makes this a tad easier for me is remembering how blessed I was to have Pete. That he chose me and that I was wise enough to choose him. We may not have been a full fledged couple, but there was a lot of love and laughter between us in a short time. That's all a woman can really hope for and I got tons of it. He was kind enough to show me his interior, not just his external shell. His internal was insightful, warm, humorous and honest. Again, how blessed was I?

I'm so glad that Pete agreed to wait on the other side for me. Some people go and if you see them again, you know, its cool. But I genuinely NEEDED to know that Pete would wait for me. I had to have confirmation that when my time comes, he'll be there, with a dirty joke and a hug. And maybe even a kiss on the neck.

Pete

I said a few posts ago that 2017 seemed to be shaping up to be something else, and damned if that ain't the truth. I met Pete some time last semester. I'm thinking around September. I'd seen him around, the random cute white guy that was working maintenance at my intern site. I saw him in passing one day, and took a moment to introduce myself. A few minutes into our conversation, he explained that he had a background as a substance abuse counselor. I looked at the wheel barrow in his hands and gave him a confused look. Then he explained that he'd worked for the company previously, but left when he relapsed and feared he'd start mucking up, so he stepped down. The CEO of the company was kind enough to take him back until he could be trusted again. Once he proved himself, he'd be promoted again.

He was always kinda goofy. We shared a love of dirty jokes and cursing. As I sat at my intern site, he'd stop in and check on me. I joked that if I had a better body, I'd be a stripper. He said "ain't no shame in my game, I'd have no problem being a stripper if I was in shape." Knowing how he was, I completely believe him. He told me about his ex-wife and how because of his drug abuse, his marriage fell apart and he subsequently lost his visitation with his daughter. His goal was to reestablish visitation.

He was supercute, but being white, honestly it took some getting used to for me. I realized recently that I'm not really physically attracted to white men, but Pete was different. Honestly, when we met, I thought he was mixed. Nope, dude was white. It didn't matter though. Our friendship was unlikely, but solid. He and I went to lunch at Whole Foods one day and we sat near the exit. A black guy walked out the door and I swear I heard him grunt as if he was expressing unhappiness with my "relationship" with a white guy. Truthfully, my great friend Reisha was the one that convinced me to get past my hang up over his race. She pretty much said "if you don't make it a thing, it won't be a thing." And she was right. Once I made the decision to not sweat his race, it made it easier to get to know him and adore him.

January 2, 2017, he was promoted to working in YouthBuild, a division of my job. I was so excited for him, I immediately texted him and told him how proud I was. A month ago, he let me know that he was closing in on the day for him to move out of the halfway house he'd been staying in. Him moving to another spot meant we'd finally be able to hang out. During that same conversation, I admitted to being attracted to him. I was actually surprised when he admitted feeling the same way about me. He promised me that we'd finally get to spend some time together once he got to his new spot. I drove him home a week later. Once we stopped, we chatted. It was so awesome to see his home and share his excitement of being able to move soon.

Three weeks later, he'd moved into his new spot. I asked how he dug the new spot. He said it was nice. He was busy and we didn't get to see each other much, but I still stopped to buy him a housewarming gift. I eventually decided to give him an hourglass, as a symbol of the "one day at a time" mantra that goes with his time in recovery. I left the gift in my car, and waited for an alone moment to give it to him. We tended to communicate away from prying eyes, for obvious reasons. I looked forward to the day that I could see his face as he opened it. I shot him a dinner invite Thursday afternoon, asking about Friday night. On Friday he shot me a text saying that he'd had a long week and would just chill at home. I was irritated, but I've made it a point since early on not to pressure him. I knew that his sobriety was still a struggle for him so I'd let things happen when and how they did.

Today I had a meeting with my intern supervisor. We sat around with another coworker, chatting casually. The coworker turned his laptop to me, showing the email that announced that Pete was gone. I went numb. So numb. My coworker explained to the supervisor what happened. The coworker walked me outside for air. I cried. I stared into space and I cried. Pete Hust died. My homie was gone. My friend. My confidant. My white guy. I once called him "hood" to which he responded by calling me the same word. I denied it. He insisted that I was too. While in the car, I told him I was in a Dixie Chicks kind of mood. He said I was the only woman from Camden, New Jersey who listened to the Dixie Chicks.

Pete is gone. Only a handful of coworkers knew how much Pete meant to me. Those that did hugged me and checked in on me. Oddly enough, I'm surprised how much no one knew we kicked it, although we did keep things casual and private. My other supervisor, who I've been extremely close to since last year didn't know either. I almost told him one day. But I wanted to respect Pete's privacy. It came out today though as I lost it in my supervisor's office. I miss Pete so much. Oddly enough, I never got a picture with him because the chance never came where we were both available and looking our best. But it was definitely on my mind. Thank you, Pete. You will always be remembered.

My Life In Pictures

So many people that know me have gotten acclimated to me pulling out my phone and taking tons of pics at any given moment. I know it annoys the hell out people, but in typical Malika fashion, the comfort of others does not matter. People always act irritated when they see my phone in their faces or when I ask for a pic, but a year or 2 later when old pics emerge, I always hear squeals of "AWWW!! I remember THAT!" That particular squeal is why I take pics. I love to capture the cool moments that I'm constantly blessed with and I love to hold on to those moments with the people I love. Its probably a bit morbid of me, but when I'm gone, I want there to be tons of pictures for the people I love to remember me by. Not even just me, but the awesome memories we've created overall.

The root of this habit is kind of unexpected. Over 10 years ago when I was nursing a sorely broken heart, my ex's skankoid made a comment on Myspace directed at me (Myspace shows you just how long ago this was) when she said "I can't help being popular." This was despite me having nearly 3 times as many online friends as she had at the time. So my immediate thought was 'Popular? Seriously?'" From there I made it a point to capture myself having a banging ass time and looking fly as hell, despite the fact that at the time, many times as soon as that flash was done, I immediately ran to the bathroom to bawl my eyes out. I knew that I was being watched (and still am) so I figured that I'd give her the show of a lifetime.

But what I learned in that was that sometimes pretending can become a reality. Although at the time I was miserable, I took pics of myself smiling and having the time of my life. Fast forward a decade later and I'm still taking pics with my friends but for new reasons- I love my existence so much now, that I want to remember the people around me forever. My professional life is amazing, I've accomplished so much while in graduate school, met amazing people, have a host of the most talented and beautiful people around me and I live a life that dreams are made of. How awesome is that?

Daddy's Narcissistic Denial

Eighteen days into the new year and I'm on blog post three. Jesus Christ, I hope this isn't a sign of what's to come in 2017. I had a moment today that I really want to vent about, but I can't take this one to Facebook, so here I am. I was set to meet with my dad today. My father, who received his masters and his doctoral degrees from Clark Atlanta University has expressed interest in joining the faculty in a few open positions in my department. My plan was to meet with him to show him the places online to submit his resume.

Before I move further, I should talk a bit about the old man. To get to the punch, he's a narcissist. A tried and true, died in the wool NARCISSIST. Social work has lead to me acquiring a greater understanding of people and how the brain's development at various stages of social learning determine or explain how people think. Essentially with narcissists, at some point in their lives (childhood) they deal with a trauma or several traumas, and the brain's way of protecting itself is to not accept responsibility for anything. So rather than feel guilt, they'll find a way to deflect responsibility. Donald trump (I did that purposely) is a classic narcissist. When you have a great understanding of narcissism and narcissists (especially when one is a parent) it gives you a greater understanding of people overall. My Buddhists leanings have also given me a greater understanding of meeting and accepting people where and how they are.

I've seen my father throughout the years walk dead smack into some bullshit and pull people in with his charm (narcissists are also exceptionally charming, which explains why people that meet with trump tend to walk away from him and claim that he's a really nice guy). That's the thing, narcissists have a tendency to pull you in, by making you feel like the center of the world, but subsequently dropping you once you no longer serve their purpose of ego building and self-fulfillment. I had a child with a narcissist and my ex David was also one. So was Ted. A big part of personal healing for me has been accepting who and what narcissists are and learning not to blame myself for being taken in by them. They prey on the weak, but the moment you expose their weaknesses, they dismiss you. Narcissists love you as long as you idolize them, but the moment they no longer get the attention and admiration they crave, they belittle and reject you as invalid, stupid and below their standards. For someone that has grown to accept and believe in the charisma and magic of a narcissistic individual, rejection can be brutal. Its a real head fuck to get sucked into.

Anyway, while trying to match our schedules, Pops casually mentioned that my elder sibling, Trisha, moved to South Carolina and asked if I'd known that. I don't have a relationship with Trisha and I have every intention of keeping it that way. She's been exceptionally abusive throughout my lifetime and I have no desire to reenter that. So she can do well in life, but do it far away from me. I told him that I don't know where or how she is although people do sometime update me on her whereabouts (even though I don't really care).

So anyway, Pops mentions that she's there and said that she wants to see him as evidenced by her continuing to call him. Then he says to me "well, I just don't want to deal with her arguing and carrying on." Pause. To give a bit of history here, Trisha and I have different biological fathers, but my father adopted and raised her up until my parents' separation. So once my parents split, so did my dad, on her. Now with me and my younger sibling, he continued to come through. He took us out, went shopping, we spent weekends with him. For the younger sib and I, he was the patron saint of the "fun weekend dad." And only once I got older, did I realize how much it must have stung for Trish to watch her younger siblings go out and enjoy a relationship with the only father she'd ever known. The same father that no longer acknowledged her.

Trish ended up with lots of anger issues and also got pregnant at the age of 16. Not only did her "dad" abandon her, she also had to watch him be a loving and doting father to her own siblings. It must be hard not to internalize and personalize why your dad doesn't want you. So in her mind, her biological daddy didn't stick around, nor did the motherfucker that later adopted her. Heavy shit right? The fact is that most of the negative relationship issues I have with my mother and both siblings I grew up with, in many ways stem directly from my father's tendency to favor me.

Many people try to play stupid about being a favorite child, but yeah, I'm honest. I'm my dad's favorite. I'm his first born, I look like him, he named me, plus I'm getting my master's degree in the same thing he got it in (social work) from the same school. I'd read somewhere years ago that parents tend to pick their favorite child based on narcissistic tendencies of the child reminding them of themselves. Definitely my case here. Again, I'm a realist.

So back to my dad and Trisha. As he balked about not wanting to see her for fear that she'd show her ass, I reminded him that the fact is that he and she have never had an actual falling out. Despite her penchant for violence and cursing at people, she's never been that to him. So my response was along the lines of "Look man, the issue here isn't her, its you. You feel guilty. She hasn't done shit to you and you feel guilty for being a shitty father because you abandoned her." So he follows that with "I've always treated all of my kids the same." Yeah, I wasn't going to give him that. Truthfully, I've made peace with the fact that I'll probably never see Trisha again. Like real talk, one of us is going to bury the other, with no reconnection. Dead ass. But I wasn't going to let Pops put his faulty behavior off on her. "Nah dude, you left her. You continued to have a great relationship with me and my younger sister. I've even heard you say you had 2 kids and not 3. That's not on her, that's on you." I honestly think he came at me with this topic because he expected that due to my horrible relationship with Trisha, I'd immediately agree with him. Nope, in this moment, one has nothing to do with the other.

Pops was clearly uncomfortable with this conversation. He responded with "that's not my fault. Where is her bio father?! That's not on me!" Yeah, like I said, I wasn't letting his ass skate. "Bullshit dude. Her dad may be a dick, but that's got nothing to do with you and your actions. He chose not to be around, but that has nothing to do with what you and I are talking about. In this moment in time, we are discussing YOU and YOUR ACTIONS. Stop putting this off on other people." Real shit, my father, Mr. Professional Social Worker Therapist Guy, genuinely could not wrap his mind around being the idea of being a fucked up person. Like his brain could not compute and refused to accept anything I said. he lied about having a client to immediately get off the phone with me. Narcissism is fascinating to watch, once you know what it is you're looking at. Its also painful to be victimized by. Pops ain't changing. I wish Trisha knew that.

The 24 Hour Existential Crisis

The last 24 hours have been a total mind fuck. It started yesterday, when I was feeling kind of right, so I headed on out to Little 5 Points, an artsy little area of Atlanta. Like always with me, I ran into plenty of people I knew and I enjoyed the scene. While there, I ran into "Martin" a beautiful spirit I'd gone to high school with. Martin and I were previously extremely tight, and I was kind of sad that we'd lost touch. Then, a few years back, in the middle of Little 5, we'd reconnected.

But seeing him this time was different. He looked tired. His hair was bushy. His hands were beyond worked, they looked haggard. They were thick and calloused and filled with sores. He smiled at me as we chatted and his teeth were rotting. He made me a beautiful necklace that I'm still wearing as I write this. While I was happy to see him, I was sad for him. I kept looking at his hard and calloused hands. What happened to my friend? What happened in his life? I offered to buy him food because I thought he was homeless. He wasn't. He'd just looked it. I thought back on that one night in the car with him. He confided to me that one night when he was 5-years-old, some monster broke into his home and raped his mother as he watched. He was so small and had to watch his mother be violated in front of him. I could see him falling back into that moment and I had to shout his name to remind him that he was safe with me and to leave that mental space.

As we chatted, I thought back on that. I knew it was that. I didn't want to bring it up, but I knew that was it. It altered his path. Who knows what and how he'd be if he hadn't seen that? But who am I to judge? Maybe he'd have been in this place anyway. I dunno.

Later that night, I goofed off on Facebook and discovered something weird. I did a bit of digging and discovered that my old friend from Georgia Perimeter College, Nivia had died of cancer a few weeks prior. Mind blown. I couldn't believe it. I saw her a few years back and she seemed to be doing well. She was married and smiled. She'd put on some weight since our GPC days. Nivia went through some real struggles in her childhood, but she was always so strong, you'd never know what her battles were. We'd exchanged numbers and promised to stay in touch, but we never did. I hated myself. I cried for what happened to her. It didn't help to see her pictures. She'd had a shape similar to that of Jill Scott, but her last pics were so bony and fragile. I couldn't stand it. I couldn't believe that in about 6 ,months, a woman my age got stage 4 pancreatic cancer and died.

I took to Google for answers. What caused this mess? I knew the answer. Cancer just happens. And it took her from the world. And I never stayed in touch. I even looked in my phone and discovered that her number was there. And I hadn't seen her in years. I ached. A part of me still does. At that moment, I promised myself that I'd dedicate myself to being as healthy and active as I could and living my life to the fullest, just that much more. Just as Nivia did.

I'd been having these thoughts a lot, but it really started to hit hard then. What the hell are we doing here? People are so wrapped up in Trump and other futile shit, that we're completely missing the mark. People worship Facebook and Instagram, but can't hold a fucking conversation with the person sitting across from them. Why aren't we doing more to address inequity in society? I felt the room spinning. What is and was happening? I called the person that I need to talk to the most, my bestie, Daisy. She let me talk, which was all I needed. She admitted that while she understood some of what I was saying, some of it was honestly quite over her head. It reminded me of the Matrix movie where there was the pill that kept you blind to reality (the blue pill), versus the pill that showed you reality (red pill). I felt like somehow that red pill was slipped to me. And everyone was asleep to what was really happening. I felt trapped. I wanted so much to just leave. Just flee. And if I didn't have a child, I probably would have at that time.

Moving forward this morning, I woke up to the news that Eddie Long died. As a resident of Decatur growing up, Eddie Long had a huge impact on my neighborhood and high school. But still, anyone that knows me knows how I feel about people that abuse children, especially a cat that abused the faith of his followers to do it. So I'm trying to remain respectful in how I address his passing, but I'll say it like this- I won't lose a wink of sleep over his passing.

So yeah, that summed up that 24-hour period for me. So much to take in in such a short period. Existential. So much. Rest in peace, Nivia. Thank you for the friendship and I look forward to seeing you on the other side. Thank you for the lessons and thank you for being a beacon of light for people like me.

Easy Love

I met him at a party a year ago. I just sat down near a guy and we started talking about our lives. I talked about this huge push to start a food pantry on campus and a few other passions about life. He looked at me and said "you're incredible." Despite my frequent discussions and thoughts about my refusal to have more children, I literally imagined him holding a Baby Bjorn carrier, with our beautiful brown baby with a head full of curly dark hair, while pushing our other lovely brown child in a stroller. How could I get more of him? I went to the host and asked about him. She told me that not only was he taken, he was also taken by a woman I'd happen to know from around the way. I knew to abort mission immediately.

Days passed and he stayed in my mind. The connection was real. I called my friend again to inquire about him. The song "Prototype" played in my mind whenever I thought of him. He was that. My prototype for my perfect mate. My friend told me that truthfully, he was going through a lot of problems in the relationship, but it remained that he was spoken for. She then told me that he really is an incredible catch and although he was unavailable, the fact that I'd picked a guy like him suggested that I was closer to finding the man I'm destined to be with. I licked my wounds and moved on.

I saw him a year later at the annual party. Just as it was time for us to leave (I was the driver for myself and some friends) he walked in. My heart leaped. I hadn't seen him since we first met. He gave me a huge hug and wrapped his long arms around me. I melted. It felt so right to be with him. I left him briefly to tell my friends to shut the hell up and that although it was 2 in the morning, we were leaving when I was damned well ready. (Okay, it didn't quite go like that, I begged them for more time cuz this was a once in a lifetime opportunity). I sat down on a couch next to him and confessed that I'd never stopped thinking about him, even though he was spoken for, and while I had no intentions of getting with him while he was spoken for, I wished him well. He admitted that our conversation a year ago was heavy and that he'd been smitten as well. I sat next to his tall frame and felt the most at peace that I'd been in ages. My friends, being the loving assholes they are, took a pic of us on that couch. I've looked at it almost daily since then.

My friends sat across from us, loudly counting down the minutes. I knew I had to be to work at 9 am. I didn't give a shit, I needed my time with him. He confessed that his situation was different this time around and suggested we stay in touch. I was hesitant. But I gave him my number, expecting to never hear from him again. He texted me at 4 am and told me to lock his number in. He didn't have to tell me twice.

That was a month ago. We've hung twice since then. He gives the best hugs. I love how it feels when he holds me. He kisses me like its the last time we'll see one another. I feel like a giddy little girl when I'm with him. Those are the things that tell me that I could love him for a thousand years and then a thousand more. He holds open doors and calls me dear and darling. We've shared our innermost thoughts and fears. I told him that no matter what, we have to remain at the very least, friends. He agreed.

Then there's the other stuff. Can't put out too much info without identifying him. But I'll say this. He's a few years younger than me and I can definitely see and feel it. I'm finishing up school, thinking heavily of my next career move. I've got a child and as much as I try not to, I mention him a lot because naturally my child is a major part of my inspiration. He's focused on other career moves, which aren't quite as stable as mine, but still very lucrative. And yes, its legal. He also has no child so he has no real reason to be as stable and grounded as I am. I can't fault him for that, I guess. But as things remain where they are, and while he makes me flutter, I think back on my last conversation with my cousin Jarronn. How when I'd asked about how he knew his wife, Jessica, was "The One," he said that being with her was "easy." And those words have guided me in many ways since then.

My time with Party Guy (just figured that new name for him) is fun and whimsical but isn't always what I'd call easy. Loving him as a person definitely is. He's so smart, strong and childlike. I feel like he gets me. And I could see us growing and building together. But at this moment, I damned sure wouldn't describe us as "easy." I need it to be. My life is busy and complex enough without being irritated at circumstantial shit that happens. Its not even another woman. Its just who he is. Maybe he's still just growing. Maybe we need another year apart. My heart wants him in the bed next to me, as I type this on my laptop on this cold Sunday morning. My brain is showing me a large, flashing stop sign. This isn't easy. And it should be. Shouldn't it?

Free

Much like last year and semester, I'm in grind mode again. I can't believe that in 33 weeks I'll have a master's degree. When Fred was here in spring, we talked about me seeing him in New York when he went there to work. I was actually able to make it happen and in 3 days, I'll be heading to NYC on Delta. I'm beyond excited about this. It'll be my first solo vacation in 4 years. I'll be staying in a hotel and getting to see friends there as well.

On a good note, I've managed to reconnect with Ted. I was actually pretty bummed when things ended with us. Being that the Atlanta University Center is so small, it only makes sense that one of my close classmates knew him in passing. Long story short, he convinced me to call Ted, which led to us talking again. I was nervous to call him, because I thought he'd never respond. I was surprised to learn he'd missed me as well. I missed him so very much. After learning the true meaning to the song "Free" by Deniece Williams, I made it my ringtone for Fred. Now whenever I'm in the car and it comes on, it brings a smile to my face and I think of snugging in bed with him. One of the things that brought Ted and I together initially was our lack of desire to have more children or be in a committed relationship. Somehow we've managed to bond over a lot more since then,

This evening I had to pick up my laptop from the home of a classmate. Although my classmate was asleep, I got to chat with her roommate. Classmate and roommate have recently met up with 2 African fellas that are quite smitten with them. The roommate told me that her beau is scheduled to spend 4 months in Germany and her wants her to join him. I asked what she was waiting for. She said that she fears "going and wasting 4 months of (my) life if things don't work out." I couldn't believe it. Shit, let me be free and able to travel to another country for 4 whole months.

I recently read an article from Marie Claire, where mothers talked about their regret of having children. I don't regret having my child. I needed him to help me focus and figure out what I wanted out of life. He gave me purpose and drive, things I certainly didn't have and didn't know I needed before. But I'd be lying if I didn't say that motherhood has slowed me down. When I got pregnant, I was actually supposed to be going to Africa to study for a semester that very summer. But I got pregnant. I had a cute little apartment in Little 5 Points and was about to buy an adorable little scooter to get around Atlanta. But I got pregnant. I was going to move to another city, in another state. But I got pregnant. So yeah, I don't regret it at all. But I'd be remiss if I said I don't think about how much things changed with a child.

I looked at the roommate, in all of her 24-25 years and told her not to think about it, but to just do it. She asked "what if I go and we break up?" I told her point blank to save about a $1,000, don't tell him she has it, and if he gets there and shows his ass, bounce. I told her to catch a train all over Europe. London, Spain, Paris. I told her to Google Germany and the many spots she could see. I told her how my rent has gone up exponentially since I got here 4 years ago and how I can't move because my son is doing so well at school that I basically have to make it happen for the next 2 and a half years. And how I've had to take an extra 2 years at school because I wasn't able to just pile up the classes. And how my dating life has been impacted. I saw her gears start to turn as she started to consider the simplicity of what I'd said. I looked at her and said "Enjoy Germany" as I blew her a kiss and walked out of the door.

New

I have no clue what the hell has happened, but I've been on some new shit lately. Feels good too. As of late, I've gotten around to finally dropping dead weight. No, not this stupid stubborn 25 pounds. Bad people. Well not bad people, just people that are bad for me.

It may have started with my mentee. Been working with Shorty since she was 12. She's now 19 and just graduated high school and on her way to college. I should be proud of her. But the fact is that within the last few months, she's become a grade A CUNT. I've gone out of my way to help her and I even attended her graduation (not an easy feat for me) but she's gotten to be so snotty and obnoxious that I ignore her text messages now. Not that I want to, but seriously. I just don't have the energy for it.

Next up was my young colleague from school. I like him and he's a great guy. But he goes hot and cold. Sometimes we talk and our hands are all over each other. Other times, he makes me feel like a perv for wanting some alone time. Huh? Last time he contacted me and acted stank, I simply texted him nicely and told him that we can't be friends any more.

Third was a guy I was liking and he's also looking to run for senate soon. We had a great rapport, lots of sexual chemistry (although we never got it on), he was affectionate and we'd even talked in passing about the idea of marriage. He was also a Seventh Day Adventist. Not an issue, but truthfully, I got sick of us not being able to hit the streets on Fridays and Saturdays, but I sucked it up because I liked him and saw a potential future with him. But then one day it hit me. This motherfucker can make appointments for meetings with mayors and local leaders, but I got no appointments at all. As if I was supposed to be ready whenever he called me. Then one day his ass just up and disappeared and THEN had the nerve to get lost on my birthday. And on top of that, he hit me up a week later as if things were kosher. He was even surprised that his number had been erased from my phone. I told him point blank that he made no time for me and he wasn't serious so I bounced. No hard feelings, I'm just no here for this. Dude was deflated, but he understood.

After all of that, I had to reflect. What happened to me? I'm not sure, but it feels damned good. For the very first time in my life, I'm eradicating the time wasters and the energy drainers. For the first time, not only am I doing away with them, but I don't feel guilty for it. I don't feel like I owe anyone an explanation or a conversation. I'm just looking at situations and people. And they either work for me, or they don't. I'm apathetic. I'm loving it. Although, cutting my young colleague seemed harsh, I needed it. He's so young. Great spirit. Sometimes I think I should have taken the time to explain exactly why I cut him off (my text to him was vague, but succinct). But still, its over. I'm done. I'm growing. I'm finally becoming the woman I'm meant to be.

Success

                I am finally in a place of wanting it all and for once in my life feeling like I can get it all. Today, I watched a video about an Indian man who had it all (financially at least) and he walked away to feed the hungry people in his village. Crazy right? Who does shit like that? I’ll tell you who. I do.

                I could see myself mobilizing several people, organizations, etc. and going out to serve the less fortunate. That would be my ultimate goal- dedicating myself to enhancing the lives of others on a grand scale. Lofty? Not really. How hard is it to go work for Coca Cola and convince an already fat and overindulgent society that they need more sugar and fat in their already clogged and overworked arteries?

                My goal is to go to people that need it the most and feed them, body, soul and mind. I want to take people that feel helpless to help and then show them how possible it is. It isn’t hard to feed people. It’s not hard to teach people to read. It’s not hard to organize clothing drives. It just takes that one individual who wants to go from “someone should do something” to “I’m going to do something.” That’s it. It’s that simple.

                So in a nutshell, that’s success to me. Success is living my life and making a healthy living ($80k+) by helping others on a macro scale. No knocking my colleagues that choose to go into case management. Lord knows we need it. But I want to do more. I want to lead. I want to lead teams and build. That is success to me.

The Fred Experience

     From the very beginning, I'd said that after the 2 months he'd spent with me, we'd either be that much closer, or we'd never speak again. It was that simple for me. We've got a lot under our belts. Two months together would mean a shift and neither of us knew what it would be. I didn't tell him about "the options" but in my spirit, I knew they were there.

     The awesome thing about Fred staying with me was that I got to fully emerge him in my life. He got to witness the firsthand hustle things. The constant juggling of bills, motherhood, school, work and life. I make it look way easier than it is and only those closest to me see firsthand what I'm going through. He had a front row seat. There were occasional moments of physical intimacy. I remained drawn to him, whether we were together or not. I was proud to be with him. My friends all giggled about how good looking he is. He enjoyed the moments with me and my classmates.

      One day, some things happened for me to think about things differently. It was all a ruse. Nearly a decade later and I felt like an idiot. A loser. And everyone knew it but me. He and I talked and I asked him what I'd meant to him. He said we were "friends." What the fuck?! A fucking decade and we're "friends"?! Where?! How?! How the hell could he label us as just friends? I've always known that there was another woman he fancied. I've always known that he and I could never make it as a couple. But still, how the hell could he and I just be "friends"?!

     I cried long and hard. I sat in a restaurant with my friends and bawled my eyes out. I've learned that heartache does eventually go away, so I just needed to work through this. He had 3 more nights in Atlanta. I told him that I wanted him to leave my home pronto. We got back to the house and he wanted to talk. I went straight to bed. The next day, we talked. He walked into my room where I was in bed, crying heavily. My heart was on the floor. The fact is that I've come to love this man immensely. He went from that sexy guy I was fucking, to a beautiful soul that I'd come to love in and out. He even came to court with me and sat with me, as I went in for a child support modification from my ex. But it meant nothing. I was just a meal ticket to him. I wanted him to leave my home as soon as possible so that I could move on with my life.
     
     I told him that we could't be friends. I saw no point. I felt used. He didn't love me, he loved her and that's where he needed to be. My coworkers were pissed (some were) and worried about me. I cried for four days straight. His final night, oddly enough, I didn't want him to leave. I mean, I wanted him gone. I wanted the pain to stop. But I didn't want to lose him. I asked him if I could lay next to him one last time before he left. He said yes. We lay there, together, my arms wrapped around him. I knew this was the last time I'd see him and I wanted it to be beautiful. I'd already told him that once he left, we'd never see one another again. I've learned the hard way not to hold on to men that were no good for me. I needed to just move on and him going back to L.A. was what I needed for that to happen.
 
      As he packed up and got ready to meet his cab outside, he hugged me and told me that we'd talk once he got settled in LA. I nodded. But I didn't mean it. I just wanted him to leave. As he walked out of the door, I told him that I loved him. He told me he loved me too. Then he left.

                                                                    ***

       The next day, I started to feel better. He was gone and I hurt a little less. While at work and trying to hold back the tears, I saw none other than Jasmine Effing Guy. I don't get choked up when I meet people often, but I've been a huge fan of hers for YEARS. I've always thought she was exceptionally gorgeous since her days on A Different World. She looked a bit tired and I confessed to her that I was mending a broken heart. She encouraged me to hold on and told me that things would get better.

        The following day, I went to see a friend perform in a play (she was INCREDIBLE!) and the day I went happened to be Senior Day. I scanned the room of the multiple gray-haired women and something occurred to me. That at only 35, my journey isn't over. I looked at these women who I knew had been friends for years and I knew that I'm blessed to have my friends and we've got tons more living to do. It was the first time I started to feel like things would be all right.

       While there, Fred texted me. I was less than pleasant to him. He had some damned nerve. I wanted to heal, he need to be gone! I typed some ugly things to him. He kept it cool. A couple of hours later, I realized that I was starting to say things that weren't fair. I apologized and tried to call. He didn't pick up. But then he texted me back and said that he's running around, and getting things together to re-acclimate to L.A. and said he'd call me later. The next day he texted me good morning and promised we'd talk later that day, once he was settled.

     He did as promised and called. He started by asking how I'd been. I was honest and told him that I still had no appetite, but being my size, there are far worse things in the world. He said he wanted us to be good again. I told him that I didn't know if that was possible. I didn't feel like he wanted Malika, the awesome friend, he wanted Malika, the resource. Then I said "why do you even want to be friends with me?" preparing for some canned answer. All of his answers up until this point had been canned. But then he said "because you're funny, you're fee spirited, you're kind and you're warm, and I want you in my life." I don't know what it was about those words. I think its because it finally showed that he'd paid attention to who and what I am. All those years, he'd been watching and noticing.

     Despite how much I'd wanted to punch him only days earlier, I was immediately disarmed. Then he said something else I'd needed to hear. He stated "its only natural that after all those years of us sleeping together that it would mean something to me. It may not have started off that way in the beginning, but later on, yeah, you really started to mean something to me." I've come to realize that despite the lovemaking and the hours of phonecalls and conversations, he's not one for loving and mushy words. He shows through action. And what I really needed, was to hear that I was loved. Not just shown it.

     God, that was all I'd needed that whole time. To be told that he loved me too. Although our lives were just too different to make a serious try at things, we still loved one another. It was about an hour of conversation, but in the end, he said "Malika, I'm sorry about everything you've been through. So are we good?" And for the first time in what seemed like a painful forever, yeah, we were and are good. I'm not crying anymore. Things seem back in place. My appetite came back, although I'm now sticking to small salads and veggie based dishes (my waistline and skin thank Fred for whatever happened).

       So yeah, that was me and Fred. Actually, I read back over some of my blogs about our time together. It went from being just about sexual attraction, to being so much more. What's funny is that although I was dealing with him physically before I got with my son's father, it was my son's father missing my 30th birthday party that started Fred and I on more than just a sexual quest. From the night of my 30th birthday, Fred became so much more than just some encounters. He became my rock, my friend, my lover, my confidante, my support, my cheerleader. He became my love. I'm finally ready to let him go love others, while we remain good friends. Because I love him. And because love is fluid. My intuition was right.

Processing Processes

My counselor dumped me. Not really, but I joked with her about my neediness and told her that having her baby and going on maternity leave at this present time doesn't work well for me. She laughed, but I was only half joking. *sigh* Now I'm stuck to work this out on my own. She pointed out to me that I have a lot of negative self-speak, which is true, so I'm trying to work on not speaking so negatively of myself. I guess I'm doing okay at it, but I'm surprised at how much I have to change my words around now to not kick myself.

Anyway, the issue with the classmates that was small, got a tad bigger. Yeah, it got nasty. It stemmed from the fact that I had a group project (and who doesn't simply love those? *sarcasm*) where I was made out to be a monster because of my unwillingness to drive all the way up to the school in the later hours, because I am a mother first and foremost. To be fair, I was initially available, but the first day, things were cancelled because member Shay was coming back in town from a cruise and didn't make it. The second meeting, she strolled in 45 minutes after we were supposed to start, and was surprised when I had to leave at my scheduled time, again to get my child. Hey, not my fault she was late.

The following weekend, I was available, and was told that no one wanted to meet the weekend. So, on my end, I did what I could, but I was not willing to drive nearly an hour through rush hour traffic, when I had mommy sh*t to tend to. I was available via email, phone and text messages, but that wasn't sufficient. I drew my line in the sand. Motherhood came first, and it will continue to do so.

Afterwards, Shay began a smear campaign against me, to the point where several of my classmates let me know that she'd mentioned (or ragged on) how I attempted to complete our project last minute (an absolute LIE). I was not happy. I avoided her. Truth is, I did  more for Shay than she'd done for me. As often happens in my life, I was the first person she called when shit hit the fan. Why? Because I'm cool under fire. I may be an emotional mess in my own life (I know, negative self-talk there), but as it pertains to the lives of others, I'm the epitome of keeping shit kosher. Yet again, reminiscent of things with my sisters.

Anyway, things warmed slightly, and I could tell that Shay wanted to keep things okay with me. And I wouldn't blame her, because she knew that despite it all, I'm a good person and I'm an asset to a person's team. I was warm, but remained distant.

The other day, Shay had a presentation. I may be exceptionally adorable, but sometimes my mouth and my intentions don't always come together. I asked a question that she wasn't prepared for. Wasn't my intention, but apparently she didn't consider a budget to start an after school program. I didn't realize how much the question was considered bad business until I heard a classmate gasp. (Oh shit.) Afterwards, another classmate warned me not to ask anymore questions to the presenters. For the rest of class, I kept my mouth shut.

I already knew how she'd be thinking. That I "threw shade" (I'm a grown ass woman, I don't throw shade, I insult you directly to your face). Regardless, I knew it was coming. The cackling, all of it. To try to lessen the impact of what I'd done, I shot her a text message to apologize and let her know that I'd had no ill will and it was an honest question, taken wrong. She responded by telling me that she believed that I did mean to trip her up (it was a sloppy ass presentation, who creates a non-profit without doing a soft budget for start up?!)

My response was to let her know that its not in my spirit to be mean or malicious and that I was kind of irked to think she'd believe I'd try to do that to anyone. At which point she texted me (yes, this is all via text) that we simply "think different" and that she'd take the high road and that I'm fake and yadda, yadda, yadda. She also mentioned that "karma is a bitch." My ears perked up. "NO THIS BITCH DIDN'T" was my first response.

I pretty let her know that yeah, we do think differently, simply because I don't take cruises in the middle of the semester and expect others to cover for me, I don't subscribe to notions of "good hair" as she did, and as an extra dig at her low-brow antics, I also mentioned her penchant for asking her petty dope boy boyfriends to pay for her cheap ass party outfits. Yeah, low blow, but I was tired of her mouth. Tired of trying to be the bigger person. I was starting to feel like the only thing I'd done in being nice to her was to give her the impression that I'm weak. Slow? Somewhat. Weak. NEVER.

So yeah, shit's been awkward. As I try to work on myself and my dis-ease with conflict, I talked to a mutual colleague who suggested mediation. I told my colleague that quite truthfully, I didn't see much value in maintaining a relationship with her. As elitist as it sounds, I didn't see much value in her. I didn't talk much about what lead me to be frosty toward her in the end, but I was frosty before the stupid group project. Cordial, but definitely didn't consider her in my inner bubble by then. She'd made some mean comments about a guy I was seeing and I knew then that she was un-bubbled.

So I'm wondering why I feel the way I do. I don't regret a damned thing I said. She totally had it coming. I honestly tried to explain to her that I didn't have bad intentions, but to be called malicious and intentional in my absentmindedness was the last straw. She deserved it. I'd do it again. To be quite honest, I wish I'd said other fucked up things about how she lives her life, but at this point it would be overkill. But trust me, there was more ammo. Just didn't feel like typing it all. Text buttons are so small.

And understandably, she unfriended me on Facebook and even blocked me. Not surprised or unnerved by that. Like I said, I didn't see much value in her. She was an emotional vulture. I also considered her a little "below" the things some of my classmates like to do in the great city of Atlanta. I guess my only regret is that I had to do it. I had to take it there. Lord knows I didn't want to. I've been letting her slide all damned semester. Like I said, I think that for me, it goes back to that sister shit. I tried hard to be the higher person. I even humbled myself in the face of fucked up comments, hoping to make things better. I know her feelings are hurt. I'm not happy about that. But again, I wish she'd learned to shut the fuck up and leave well enough alone. But you know what? I won't be swayed by this. I've got shit to do.

Breaking Eggs

No clue what the hell is going on, but the last 48 hours have been insane. It started out Sunday. I was working, when a cute temp from another location came in. We locked eyes and he was a hottie. I asked his age and he said 25. I knew I couldn't do it. Lord knows I wanted to, but he was far too young and I couldn't stand to be known as the woman that only dates far younger men. Long story short, I found out he's related to the young guy I'm already dealing with. Ouch. And ew.

I texted my young friend about it and he laughed. I couldn't believe it. What are the odds that the cute new stranger that I'm batting eyes at is related to my youngin? I couldn't deal. I told a girlfriend of mine, who is familiar with my relationship with Youngin, and she giggled and started singing "Its a Small World Afterall." I'm still in shock. A part of me felt like it meant something. I mean what are the odds? But if so, what? What was it telling me?

Fast forward to the next day, where I attended a meeting with my counselor. Fred was kind enough to drop me off at school while he used my car to run errands, leaving me there with her to sort through my emotions. I was having a small conflict with some classmates over an assignment, and although not a big deal, while discussing it with her, I realized that the conflict was closely related to issues stemming from childhood. The fact is that my default when dealing with conflict is to shut down. I don't have a middle mode on it. And if you don't respect me shutting down, I explode and go off. Its true. And its unhealthy.

While talking to my counselor, I also talked about Fred and his visit. She was surprised that I hadn't mentioned him earlier and said that while he's pretty and shiny, he's filler. He and I can never be married and I know it. But dammit, he's so sexy. Got an ass you can bounce quarters off of. He's smart and funny. My son loves him. But still, it ain't happening. Nevertheless, I went in talking about about a small tiff with my classmates, only to discover that I can't deal with conflict, back to bullshit from my sisters. What the incredible hell? The counselor also said that I revert to childlike nature when I'm conflicted. SHIT. Last week, I said to her "I'm a mess." She looked at me and blinked. She didn't say "no, Malika, you're fine, everyone has issues." Nope, she allowed me to own it. Wow. I left out with a greater understanding of how deep my issues go. Not pretty, but workable.

 After class, I went out to meet not just Fred, but my bestie Sky as well. We were almost on the freeway when I asked Sky if he wanted a veggie wrap and he did, so off we went. We pulled up and I saw them. My ex's psychotic baby mama, and my former friend. My default was to shout out "FAT BITCH!" but I couldn't because it went against what I am now. But I was stunned. I stayed in the back seat and ducked until they'd pulled off. They saw me and if they didn't, they saw the tall nut job that is my bestie. Fred wondered why I'd ducked. Sky was confused and surprised. The good news that old girl looks a hot ass mess and the vehicle she's in shows that times are hard. Part of me wishes I'd stood there, looking good as hell. Weight loss, nice car (and its MINE!), hair twisted nicely, gotta admit, I was pulled together. And my ass ducked. Why? All I could do was wonder what was in the air. Sky and I laughed about the oddness of it all. Fred wondered which was my ex's baby mama. I told him the big one. He tried to be nice, but his face said it all. Wow. And not in a good way. Call it what you want, but I won. Fuck that. School, connections, look, health, and room for growth. Kind of cathartic to think of it that way.

While there at the veggie shop, one of the admins at one of the schools in the Atlanta University Center who I had a brief with, tryst showed up 20 minutes after we arrived. Odd as hell. He and I hugged and chatted briefly. He looked nice. But it was getting to be a lot to take in. While at the veggie spot, I told Sky the things my counselor had pointed out to me. I told him I think I'm bad at conflict. "Duh" was his response. I told him that she said that I revert to childlike behavior when I'm conflicted. He reminded me that my apartment has become one giant coloring book. Dear God. I told him she allowed me to call myself a mess. He nodded in agreement. It was really starting to sink in. That same night, I was sick as hell. Vomiting and all. I rarely throw up. What the freak is going on?

The next morning, I started to really think. If I'm broken and looking for filler, maybe Fred is too. Maybe that's our connection, that we're both broken and its easier to be with one another loosely and accept our broken selves than to fix him. I know a bit of Fred's history, but not much. But damn, he's broken too. Him? Him. I spoke to him about it, and we acknowledged yet again how we could never marry. He's hung up on someone and there are things about his character that while I love, it could not be the man I'd need long term.

So I can only imagine what else awaits me. I'm big on signs and I think its incredible that all of these strange things are happening at the same time. I think the counseling is opening up something and ts something that I need. Definitely uncomfortable, but you can't make an omelette without breaking some eggs. This better be one hell of an omelette.

Sexual Energy

Those magical words were uttered again, in reference to my- well my... something. I was on the phone with a fellow I'd met about a year ago. We met online and hung out a few times. He lived in south Georgia at the time, were he was in school, but he's since graduated and moved back up north. He'd disappeared for a few, which was fine because school keeps my head in the books anyway, but he recently reappeared.

We chatted about life and he said he'd like to see me again, and said he'd possibly fly me to see him. I'm always up for a free trip and I trust him not to murk me and leave my body in a ditch, so hey, bring it on. As we talked, he mentioned something I've heard a few times before. He said that I have "sexual energy" that he's really drawn to. The odd thing is that this is certainly not the first time I've heard those words or even felt it. Early last fall, as I started the training for my internship with many younger men, I caught my energy slipping on out and I was warned by Ted that I should reign it in before I started giving off milf vibes to the fellas. And although I did bring it in and ended up in a brother/sister relationship with many of the guys, there was still one younger gentleman on campus that got caught up in my web.

So my new friend speaking those words made me start wondering if perhaps I'm more sexual than I'd ever given myself credit for. I had drinks with colleagues recently and the topic of magic numbers was brought up. I said my number (after swearing I wasn't lying), and was told by my cohorts that they'd assumed that my number was nearly double what it actually is. What the entire hell?! Thankfully my relationship with those friends has long since crossed the line of being personal and not professional so I could do was laugh and assure them that I wasn't the raging whore that people assume me to be.

But still, here is a man that's only spent sporadic time with me, who picked up on what so many other men have picked up on as well. I ooze sexuality when I don't mean to. I sometimes post pics on Facebook that get all kinds of likes, winks, and sexually explicit comments (lord knows I appreciate them) when truthfully I don't see what others see. My male bestie, Sky, suggested that I have as much sexual energy as any other woman, its just that I'm comfortable with myself sexually which is intriguing and turns men on. With that statement, I had to relinquish him from the conversation because I could see him wanting to drink bleach as we talked about my sexuality.

As we make this beautiful transition into spring I'm wondering if I should play with my looks more to see what I can pick up on. Not that I'm trying to attract anyone anyway, as my schedule doesn't allow for much anyway. But still.

On Being Held Again

I've written at length about my time with Fred. How much he meant to me and how he's helped me through some hard times. I've also touched on how freakishly sexy he is. Crazy thing is that despite it all, what amazes me most is how much he's mine. He may be on the other side of the country, but I'm in a special place in his heart and that amazes me. It shouldn't though. I'm certainly old enough to know that looks only determine a small amount of where, who, or what a person is. But it never ceases to amaze me to  know that someone as good-looking as he is manages to be drawn to plain old me.

I've been having a hard time lately, as I've had to deal with not having anyone of substance around. My 23-year-old "friend" is still around but at times I have to remind myself that he's still a kid. He's also busy as hell, as am I so although I see him regularly on campus, our time is fleeting. The other guy I liked on campus actually had a girlfriend that I'd learned about through a 3rd party, so his ass was exed. Briefly thought that Ted and I would be rekindling things, but that turned out to be a bust as well. Granted, I still got quality sex, on occasion, but I missed being held. Not just held, but loved.
I missed rolling around in sheets with a man that loves and knows me. Penis can be found anywhere, but to find a man that understands and deals with my quirks isn't easy.

Last month, I guess the winter weather got to me. I had a few extra dollars and I figured I'd take the plunge and go see Fred. I didn't want sex. I needed to be held, and I was willing to go to the opposite coast just for that purpose. I texted Fred in the middle of the night and told him that I'd be flying to see him in March. He responded that he'd be in Atlanta in March and that he couldn't wait to see me either. My heart was aflutter. Fred? Here? He was here a year ago for the first time in nearly 4 years, and to see him a mere year later seemed like a dream.

I tried numerous times to clean my home to the specification of an important house guest, but the fact is that working, motherhood, school, interning and extracurriculars at school make cleaning nearly impossible. But still, I tried. The night he got in, I came in a few minutes before him, hoping to get things together even more. He called me and asked me to come outside and flag him down so he'd know what apartment I was at. I ran to the door and there he stood.

I hugged him like my life depended on it. There he was. Not a pic in my phone, not a Facebook image, him, in the flesh, hugging me back as tight as I hugged him. He came in, settled his items and took a shower. I lay down, and he lay down right next to me. I ran my fingers through his curly, damp hair and held his hand. I felt my soul seep back into my body. In that moment, he wasn't that fine ass dude I've drooled over for over a decade, he was the man I loved tremendously. In that moment, we shared a single bond and a single moment. Its almost like we were one person. I happened to have a playlist of some of my fave chill music, and Tevin's "Always in My Heart" spun in the background. Despite the song being over 20 years old, it was then that the song took on a true meaning. I giggled and said to him "this is our new song" as a candle flickered in the background.

Crazy enough, we weren't even having sex.  We literally just sat there, next to one another. As his back faced me and I wrapped my arms around him, I gave him a peck on his back and whispered, "I love you." "I love you back" he said as he tapped my arm.

And that was all I needed. To be rejuvenated again. To be held and loved and appreciated and adored. And not by a guy that's just good-looking, but by a man who met me at my worst, but stuck with me. A man that knows my soul. A man that not only lets me hold him, but a man that anxiously wants to hold me back. I've held and loved. That was all I needed.