Sex, Lies, and Video Calls

Guys, I don't know what to say about this late in life dating. Talking to these men, you don't know what to believe, and they are also openly and incredibly sexual to have just met you. Everything is rushed. They want to call you Monday then meet up on Tuesday. It's overwhelming and disappointing. This week, during an introductory video call, a gentleman "accidentally" flashed me his bro bits! I couldn't believe it, but one of my homegirls said that she had a video call where a dude tried to play off showing his whole behind. Men are literally showing their a$$es out here! What is left to do after you make this realization? I guess I just thought men from 35-50 would be different than the guys I met who were 18-30. I thought they'd be more gentlemanly and more mature. I think what they've done is acted up during their youth and now they have perfected their crazy! As I march on in the Find A Man parade, I am constantly reminded of how old-fashioned I am for this new age dating landscape. Maybe I am an old lady. Pardon me for thinking that during a get to know you call, a guy would keep his bits in the bag. 

Soft

The other night, Lisha, again, pointed out that I am not "soft" in my delivery and interaction with men. She has declared that she is in her "Soft Girl Era", and that men are attracted to softer women. Hm. This sounded familiar, and I began to have flashbacks of my grandma begging me to wear more dresses and stop being so loud. I know that no situation is black and white, but I sadly tend to operate in extremes. When I think of myself being softer, I imagine myself wearing rags, cooking over an open-fire stove, while whispering to passersby that I detest my right to vote. 

Lisha then began to coach me on talking to guys. I need to ask more intriguing questions because guys like feeling like they are telling you something. She said a bunch of other stuff that very well may have been the key to the game, but after a while, she started to sound like Charlie Brown's mom. It seems like being softer just means playing dumb so that he can feel like a big, smart stud muffin. In return for inflating his ego he'll treat you like a lady. I could be wrong here, but I don't think so. 

I have never, ever been good at playing dumb. I find it's best to let a guy know I'm smarter than him right from the jump. I tried the clueless routine once, but it came to a screeching halt the day I could no longer listen to said guy's flagrant incorrectness. 

"That's not true," I said as sweetly as I could. 

"What?" he asked confused. 

"There is actually a huge difference between womanist and feminist thought," I chirped politely. What ensued was a very unfortunate exchanged which nipped us in the bud fast. It was then that I learned how rough being soft can be. 

So I won't be making that mistake again, even though Lisha claims the results could be life changing. What is the point of dating if you have to be someone else? 

What?

I was chatting with a man on the fatty app and he told me that he is looking for a woman who would be okay with never seeing him because he works a lot and is trying super hard to get rich🫤 Who would be okay with that?! It has become more socially acceptable to say how you really feel, but it feels like people are doing this despite how looney they sound. I mean, is no one listening to their inner voices anymore before they speak?? As I have gotten older, my ear has gotten sharper, and of late I have been hearing a lot of open delusions, contradictions, tall tales, misrepresentations, misunderstandings, miseducations, and falsehoods. They all sound loco and they are leaving me in a constant state of bewilderment and confusion. Does anyone know what they are talking about?? I cannot go a full day without hearing some eye-crossing gibberish. I am a naturally talkative person, but the state of things has caused me to silence myself and really listen. What I have concluded is that there is a lot of talking but next to no thinking on even the simplest of matters. I'd say this is a new normal, but I don't think that's the case. I think it has only gotten worse and we will continue to speed towards a decline until we are only communicating in animal grunts. I don't know. Maybe that will be better. 

Half

At the moment, my life is in a silent chaos. I can not seem to finish anything I start. My Netflix account says it all. I am greeted by movies and shows I have yet to finish. I don't seem to have the desire or the attention span. Everything is half done. My hair is half combed. My room is half clean. I can only seem to be half awake during my phone conversations. I have fallen asleep on the phone with my friend Curly twice now. I am generally half engaged in life. This is no bueno, seeing that there are things going on that need my full attention. I just don't have it, whatever "it" is. I'm choosing to blame the time and season changes, but I'm only half sure that's even a thing. 

Tales of the Unrequited 3 pt 2: Twinkles

I did not like the Elephant Person that Twinkles ended up marrying. I don't know if I disliked her because she was worthy of disliking, or because I was jealous because she was dating someone I believed I was in love with. The lines can be blurred. All I know is that I thought she was just what the doctor ordered in the beginning. She was making him be serious about school. Then there was a sharp turn when they got serious-serious, and I could feel Twinkles pulling away from me as a friend and it freaked me out. Harsh lesson three million and six: when you think you are in love with someone who doesn't love you and they find someone they do love, brace yourself for the heartache and disappointment. Remember what Sweet taught me: the one he wants to f&$k will always come first, even for the guys you think are "different". Take it from me, there is no "different", not deep down. Originally, I thought I was imagining the pullback until our mutual friends' wedding. He showed up with the Elephant Person which was shocking. I didn't even know he was coming to Atlanta. How could he be my friend and not even tell me he was coming to town? I guess the same way he himself could get married some time later and not invite me to his wedding.  

"Hey, it's Twinkles," one of my friends announced. 

I wanted to wave but it was clear he was making a conscious effort not to look at me, even though he and the Elephant Person literally sat in front of me. 

I could have reached out and thumped him in the back of the neck he was so close. After the wedding, I went into the reception hall and stood at the bar, contemplating if I wanted a drink, when Twinkles took a spot right beside me. 

"Hey!" He exclaimed as if he hadn't just ignored me for like an hour.

"Hey?" I looked over his shoulder and around the room, but I did not see the Elephant Person. 

For about two minutes, Twinkles was his old self, chattering about nothing, then the Elephant Person came out of the bathroom and he raced from the bar and away from me while I was in mid sentence. You can't get much clearer than that. 

After he got married, we still talked, but I noticed he was only calling me when he was not around Elephant Person which made me begin to feel like a secret friend. Sigh. When is it appropriate to call your platonic male friend that is married? I had this same issue with Country after he jumped the broom. All I know is that I got scared to call Twinkles. I didn't want to get him in trouble, for he had insinuated once that the Elephant Person didn't like me. Overtime, he would stop calling me, and just like that, one of my favorite people had vanished from my life. This should have been good practice for the Brownie Nightmare, but it turns out that there is not enough practice to prepare you for losing a good friend. 

I texted Twinkles about homecoming late last year. It was a very short and sterile exchange. He has kids now, a good job, and as far as I know is living the life with his family. I wonder if he ever wonders what I'm up to. Not hearing from him in almost ten years would indicate that he doesn't, which is sad because, when he was able to be, he was a good friend. 

Tales of the Unrequited 6: The African Prince

The whole thing with The African Prince wasn't even a thing until my then friend, now ex friend, Wadley (who friend dumped me through a third party by making our mutual bestie a middle man, a story for another time) came to visit me at my grandma's apartment and showed her his picture! "Look Ms. Ruth," she said, getting up from the dining room table with a picture in hand, "this is the boy that Holly likes." It really isn't her fault. She didn't know the firecracker that she was lighting.  

Let's start at the very beginning. This boy in my graduating class, the one from the dreaded pen pal incident, declared one day that his younger brother was coming to visit the school and would potentially be attending the next year. I didn't think much about it. Then, not long after this announcement, I walked into the university center and saw him with his brother's friends. I didn't know whether to laugh or to scream. WHO ON EARTH HAS A YOUNGER BROTHER THAT GORGEOUS?! It was bewildering! He had to have still been in high school, and he looked like some type of African James Bond! It felt like a joke! For one, if my younger sister were that hot, I probably would have allowed her to slip on a banana peel. To give this moment context, it felt as incredible as if I had announced my kid sister had come to visit and then Nia Long walked in the room! He was tall and chocolatey and had a beautiful smile. If I were him, I would have skipped college and tried my hand at male modeling or something. 

The African Prince did end up coming to my college. He was younger than me, but every girl knew who he was. I will say that he is different from the other unrequiteds because I can honestly say we don't know each other. I never even had a chance moment with him, which would have been enough to get the love ball rolling for me. We just know each other, like everyone who goes to an HBCU knows each other. Like I said, he was younger than me. We didn't have classes together. We didn't have the same friends. We never really talked. But I saw him all the time, and when I saw him, I made sure to get in a good, long, really long, super long, look. I thought he was hot then, he is even hotter now, respectfully of course. He is married with kids. 

Now fast-forward to the Wadley debacle. I literally watched her in slow motion walk that picture over to my grandma. Poor Wadley. She didn't know the history of my grandma being disappointed and hurt that I went through the entirety of my college career uncoupled. She was mortified that I was gay. When I went to the homecoming events in Memphis during Hurricane Katrina, she was excited to hear that I was getting a dress and even bothering to go, but was devastated when she heard I was going with Big Homie Saans. "Grandma, I may never, ever have a boyfriend," I said to her over the phone. Her disappointment in my not going on the boat ride with a guy had put a pin in my balloon about the whole thing. "Guys don't like me, I don't know what you want me to tell you." This is probably why she took the photo out of Wadley's hand and studied it like a rare jewel, then she waved the picture in my direction, relieved. "See, I knew there was someone," she said, excited. 

Yikes. 

Not too long after that incident, my grandma was officially diagnosed with Alzheimer's Disease. If you read this blog often, you know I am mortified of getting it. If you have never dealt with this disease, you have no idea the pain of watching the mind of someone you love crumble. She often could not remember me, my aunt, or my mom's names. She referred to the three of us collectively as her daughters. The doctor told me that her short-term memory was toast, which was crazy to hear. I had known her my whole life, and I was in her short-term memory? Ouch. Anyway, during one visit, she looked over at me and asked, "Where is Holly? I think she is mad at me."

I looked into her eyes and could tell that my grandma was there. You see, with this disease, the person you remember can come back in flashes. 

"I am Holly," I said to her from her bedside. "I could never be mad at you."

She smiled. Yep, she was in the room. I wanted to tell her so much, but I didn't want to overload her. You see, these flashes of normality can be fleeting. I just wanted to sit with her in it. 

She took a deep breath and took my hand. They were cold, even though she was covered in blankets. 

"Holly?" she said again. 

"Yes, Grandma? I'm here."

In that moment, she looked so excited. "So, how are things with you and Femi?"

Tales of the Unrequited 5: Golden Boy

The story of Golden Boy has a lot of arms to it. We will skip the part where my grandma wanted me to marry him the moment she saw him my freshman year, and we will save the tale of how he almost killed me on Halloween 2006 for another time. I will stick to the details pertinent to the whole unrequited theme. The most important thing to understand is that if you questioned Golden Boy today about "our" story, he would not be aware that there is one, and I guess there isn't one outside of my own mind. It's funny the role you can play in someone's life, both real and fantasy, and not even know it. Funny or scary. I guess it depends on who you ask. 

Out of all my unrequited loves, his was the shortest lived, only because my infatuation with him morphed into a desire to solve the case of him. A life long fan of the show "Ghost Writer", I found myself observing him from a distance, keeping track of his clues in my metaphoric composition book. Yes he was fine. Yes he had a commanding presence. Yet, those things were not what drew me to him. 

In school, I never missed an opportunity to talk to Golden Boy not just because he was hot and to collect clues, but also because he has an AMAZING voice! He has truly missed his calling narrating erotic books for Audible. During one conversation, I felt something radiate off of him that knocked the air out of my lungs. I'm no tree hugging crystal kisser, but I guess I'd call it an energy. I now know that I'm empathetic, but back then I didn't, and this "energy" I contracted from him stayed with me for days. It was familiar but felt heavy, and made me feel like I needed to use my inhaler. 

"Maybe he just gave you a cold," one of my smart a$$ friends suggested. Maybe, but no. I didn't feel sick. I felt sad. And then I realized what he put down that I picked up and couldn't shake: it was pain! Who knows pain better than me?!

GIRL!!! If you want me to really fall for a man, bring me a man that needs to be fixed! Golden Boy showed me in vivid color this disease I have of wanting to heal a broken man, or a man I conclude is broken because remember, I don't know him, at least not well. What could the cause of the pain be for a man this gorgeous and this popular? I nearly jumped out of my skin thinking of the possibilities. 

What ever the issue was, I knew I could fix it. All I needed was to know something about him. 

Spoiler: no one knows anything about him. I have asked casual questions about him over the years, and the answers have been vague. Very vague. Three years of investigating and all I know for sure is that he's in a frat and of Caribbean descent I think. No one has confirmed or denied this. My grandma thought he was African. Maybe🤷 He is also married to a woman no one has ever seen or met. The brotha is a mystery! 

When I saw him recently, I didn't feel what I thought I felt before. He just felt sexy, per usual. Perhaps I had imagined the "energy" all those years ago, or maybe his M.I.A wife loved the energy out of him. If so, good job. I doubt I would have been able to do it even if given the chance but I tell you one thing: I would have tried.