Skip to main content

30 years...5 months

  I had this idea that I would be the perfect girlfriend. Ha! That was before, when I thought I didn't act like other girls or women. Yeah... I am definitely a woman, and I definitely embrace it.
  I had this idea that the first guy I was ever involved with would be the only. Ha! That was before, when I thought I was the exception not the rule. Yeah... I definitely did not end up with the first or the second or the third or when I went back to the first.
  Today marks the longest relationship I have been in. In 30 years, I have made it 5 months. Call it sad. Call it tragic. Call it what you will. To my defense, I only started dating when I was 27. I did not see myself as attractive, sexually appealing, or interesting to the opposite sex.
  But this post isn't about me. Or the exes. It's about white boy and acceptance. I will admit to anyone that he is/was not my type. He is/was not the kind of guy I was looking forward to spending a long time with. But, he kind of wound himself around my heart and kept a firm hold. Now, he is the only type I want. And by type...I strictly just mean him.
  5 months doesn't seem like a long time. In the grand scheme of things it isn't. It is quite short, but for some reason I was never able to make it to this point in any relationship. And thankfully so. The other night, while playing poker with each other (he beat me of course) we began to talk about if the people we were with didn't end up they way they did we would still be with them. My question to him was, "Would he still want to be with them?"
  I thought about this particular question the other day driving home. If...any one of my exes were to not have cheated or disentangled themselves from our relationship, would I still "want" to be with them. It took me 3 seconds to say no. No. Because they aren't him. I couldn't see any of them taking care of me the way white boy does. I couldn't see me wanting to hold them the way my arms long to hold him. I couldn't see my lips ache for them as mine do for him. I just can't see it.
  I could ramble and ramble about sappy relationshipy things, but that's not the point. The point...is that I have found someone that not only do I want to be with but someone who wants to be with me. So refreshing.
  Happy 5 months babe...I am crazy weird, disturbingly blunt, decidedly independent, and madly in love with you. Here's to many many a more.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Tiger must stay in your backpack...

   I'm not that parent. The one who gloats too much, and shows off all the pictures. The parent who relays every detail of their kid to let others know how incredible I think they are. Perhaps it is a flaw. Who knows. And I also pride myself in not being a helicopter parent. I teach and let go. I discipline and let go.    And I thought I would be ready for this: first day of Pre-K. I have been very positive and uplifting and have wanted my son to be extra ready to go to school. We have talked about it for months! I am ready... Or so I thought.  This morning, as white boy was leaving to take them to daycare, he said to Owen, "You can't take Tiger to school tomorrow or he will have to stay in your backpack, so do you want to take him to daycare today?" I thought little of it, but as Owen threw him down on the ground and turned to head out the door, my throat hitched. "Are you sure you don't want to take him today?" He said no. It was a sense of finality.  ...
Post a Comment
Read more

60 years ago is not the 1940s

  When you are born, you are lucky to get one day a year to celebrate just you. Well, you and all the others born on that day. When you become a mother or father, you get another day for just you. Sometimes those days come when you are not ready, and some come when you wish they wouldn't.   Today, 60 years ago, my mother was born. A date that means littler to most people I know than to her or me. As we age, and my mother is no different, our birthdays become just another cycle of the rising of the sun and a following of the moon. Nothing to make a big to do of.   My mother enjoys subtly. She can be dramatic but embraces the subtle acknowledgement of herself. She has ALWAYS placed herself second and counted the accolades of her children as if they were her own. That was one thing my mother NEVER lacked: humility. Which made me often sad she didn't get more than 2 days a year commemorating her.   Mom, I know I've come short. I know that I have openly and often faile...
Post a Comment
Read more

The Sacred Requiem

  He handed me the hymnal and asked me if I was ready...if I could do this. To be honest, I had no idea what I was doing. I had never planned a funeral, and even if I had imagined planning one it sure wasn't this early in life and it sure wasn't for my only brother, my only sibling. At 25, I felt like a little child getting left behind in a sea of strangers. I was terrified.   2 days prior, my heart stopped beating. 2 short days before this, my peaceful world collided with the dark. And now I had to prepare for the world to say goodbye to greatness. The tree fell in the woods and the world shook with its sudden end. And we, as the collective, needed to imagine that very tree as the beautiful piece of woodwork it now was and bow to it's new exulted shape.   I wasn't sure how to plan a requiem. But, it had been placed in my hands and I wanted to give him the best I could. He deserved it. He deserved life...to live...to breathe still and chase every dream he thought into...
Post a Comment
Read more