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 Rider", 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. 

Tales of the Unrequited 4: Country

I met Country in a useless university course that was intended to teach freshmen about the school and get them in the habit of waking up early. A no-credit course at 8am on a Friday. How ungodly. Country sat in the back of the class with me. He was tall and handsome and self-assured and had a country accent that was so deep at the time that it almost sounded fake. He was my first official college love, and we had a ball together. We could joke all day. And he was super nice. When I think of being into him back then, I just feel really innocent and excited. Aw, to be excited about someone. Bring back those days. 

Let's be clear: I was not the only one into Country. He was literally tall, dark, and handsome and girls way hotter than me were interested, yet I never saw him with anyone. I thought he had really high standards. I found out later that he was just secretly hooking up with chicks without my knowledge. Yikes. 

My love for Country could have possibly become a forever love if I wouldn't have been confronted with the fact that he had a girlfriend head on. Early sophomore year, I got off the elevator in my dorm on my friend Laya's floor. I was going to visit her when I was ear accosted by the sound of Country and some girl having sex. It was like a bucket of cold water to my face. I don't know. Wading in my love for him I had convinced myself that he wasn't interested in dating. After that day I would find out that he and SheWhoShallNotBeNamed had been in their situation for a minute before I found out. Surprise, surprise. 

The good part about this bad news and the way I found out was that it caused my bubble to pop quick and bring me back to life, back to reality. Country and I would never, ever be a thing. Ever. But if I could get over that, I could have a bestie, which ended up being awesome. We are still close to this day. 

The Country situation showed me that you can be friends with someone you once really liked if you can get over it. I'm glad I did, since I'd never been able to before. In the long run, I got to witness him get married and have a family, which has been super dope! If only my other unrequited nightmares had similar endings. My next two years of school would be littered with them. Not all of them ended in a Country fashion. But then again, not all of my unrequiteds were as nice as Country. 

Tales of the Unrequited 3 pt. 1: Twinkles

If the purpose of loving someone is to learn lessons, the lesson I learned from my unrequited love for Twinkles was a hard one about what happens to an opposite-sex platonic friendship when the male in the group gets married... to someone you don't like and who doesn't like you. 

Twinkles came out of nowhere. It was like, one day I didn't know him, and the next day I did. It was like he just appeared! He wasn't gross and crude the way that young guys can be. I think it was because he was older than me, but even today, I cannot tell you by how much. He was funny and kind, with a childlike spirit. He kind of put me in mind of child Simba or Winnie the Pooh. He was like a big, tall kid. And he was spiritual. Like for real. I had witnessed him pray for things, and the prayer be answered in real time! It was crazy! Being around him made me happy, and that is saying a lot, because I just may be the most negative person that I know. He just radiated positive energy. And much like the other unrequiteds, I am sure that he was pretty aware of how much I liked him. I have never been good at hiding my real feelings on anything. Yet, he still hung out with me. 

One of the worst things about being friends with someone you love is that you most certainly will have to watch them like someone else. Twinkles had a huge crush on our friend Trina, who, although sweet, was a bit of an airhead. She was skinny and pretty with long hair. Again, I was confronted with someone I liked liking someone who I could never be, which will break you if you let it. However, Trina didn't like him. Isn't that the way of the world? I guess you could say that situation should have prepared me for the one that would like him back, the woman he would marry. 

When you are young, you don't know things until you know them, and what I didn't know in my early 20s was what it would be like to maintain a friendship with a guy who was getting married, especially to someone outside of your friend group who really isn't in to you. You see, I graduated college and Twinkles went on to pharmacy school and that is when he met the Elephant Person he would marry. She too seemed to come out of nowhere. I had never heard of her until he called me to tell me he was torn between two girls, the tall chick with the pretty Afro and the Elephant Person. This made me nervous seeing that right before graduation, one of the Elephant People had treated to kill me, but that is a story for another time. Regardless, I was on the side of the Elephant Person because she was making him be serious about school. As fond as I was of Twinkles, he could be a slack ass. He was the type that would pay attention in class just enough to get a C instead of study hard to get an A. I imagine she was the one that also introduced him to the incredibly slow ghost technique, because our friendship simmered down to a drip until I wouldn't hear from him in years. More to come. 

Tales of the Unrequited 2: Sweet

People can break your heart and not know it; and not mean it. This was the unfortunate takeaway I took from Sweet. 

I met Sweet on one of the greatest nights of my life. I was a sophomore, and I won $100 twerking at a basketball game. Big Homie Saans had snuck us down to the good seats, so I had to get my money and literally run before they asked to check my ticket stub. Later that night, we went to a party at The Municipal Auditorium. Me and Saans got some drinks at the bar and turned around to see a very thin Sweet in an oversized red Dicky's short set. He asked if we could buy him a drink because he wasn't old enough to get it himself. Not too long after, Hurricane Katrina would happen. Upon return to school, he would play a major role in the greatest year of my life...before it went south. 

There are some things you should know about Sweet. He moves to the beat of his own drum. He is unusually cool. Nothing seems to shake him. Always happy. Unbelievably confident. This guy would wear things that you could never imagine a guy his age who was concerned about fitting in would wear. People had remarks about his avant-garde style of dress. He didn't care. Sweet was incredibly confident. I was so attracted to confident guys because I lacked confidence, and Sweet had enough to spread around. 

Here is something else I learned from Sweet: never tell a friend you like a guy. My friendship with Bells almost collapsed during my junior year because I told her I liked Sweet, she said he was corny, then a few weeks later, she told me she had made out with him. I felt like I was dying inside for months after that. And as if that wasn't enough, Brownie broke the news to me that the kiss wasn't a one off. Apparently, after we'd all stop hanging out for the night, they would meet up and make out. Oh, the messy betrayal of it all! 

All has been forgiven now. That was over 20 years ago, and Bells and Sweet both are my forever friends. But the biggest part of this heartbreak was not the behind-the-back stuff; it was being confronted head-on with what I already knew but didn't want to say aloud: I would never be Sweet's type. Bells was petite with a really nice body. I was not. The end. My feelings for him were also pretty obvious. How could he make out with my friend and not care about how it would hurt me? Let me tell you something about even the sweetest guys: they typically don't care. Your feelings will always come after their gratification or desire to satisfy an urge. Yes, every time. 

My romantic love for Sweet would last far into my 20s. It became too heavy, and I had to put it down. It didn't make sense having such deep feelings for someone who would NEVER return them. Plus, I wanted to try putting some of that energy into a man who could possibly like me back. Spoiler alert: that ended in disaster as well. 

Today, Sweet and I talk pretty often about life, politics, and college memories. I tell him I love him at the end of every call, and I do, but as a friend. And I'm good with that. He's a good friend. He's super sweet. 

Tales of the Unrequited 1: Workman

Meeting guys in college would play an important role in my life because growing up, boys were not nice to me. They made fun of me because of my weight. I didn't grow up with my father, my stepdad was a bum, and I never felt like my uncles particularly liked me. Any attention that I got from a male was negative. I always felt that since guys didn't want to be with me, they felt comfortable being themselves, and those selves were mean. The them that bought girls flowers and opened car doors was an act. The them that made me feel like sh*t was the real thing. It was in college that I would fall in love with amazing guys that didn't love me back, but somehow found a way not to treat me like crap either. Introducing Workman. 

I originally saw Workman at a club meeting for people from Atlanta at the beginning of my freshman year. He was handsome and tall and dark and walked around with some type of lizard on his shoulder. The lizard didn't last long, but I would find out through the grapevine that he had a love of animals, which is crazy, because to the untrained eye, he looked like a "thug". He wasn't. He was super smart, sped through campus in his truck, and got high with his friend group of merry potheads. He also spent a lot of time at my dorm because he dated a girl who lived there and was friendly with the dorm mother. 

I would not get to know him myself until I had a class with him in my junior or senior year. I literally would follow him around by pulling his shirt like an annoying kid sister. I was surprised at how nice he was to me. He used to give me rides places when I needed them, even though he was super busy with his new girlfriend (who he would marry) and the many jobs he had. Unlike a lot of the rich boys I went to college with, Workman had to work his way through school. He was also handy, and girls would often ask him for help with really anything when they needed it. Never underestimate the importance of knowing a guy who can fix stuff. 

When I think of college, I think of freedom, but the freest I ever felt was riding shotgun at night in his truck, listening to Outkast, while he sped through the streets of New Orleans. Oddly enough, I never felt scared even though he was driving REALLY fast. Workman wouldn't let anything happen to me. Sometimes he would talk to me about his family. I liked when he did that. I love hearing about people's home lives. Still waters run deep. This is an expression that I feel would apply to him. I found myself staring at him often, wondering what he was thinking. 

Workman has an amazing family and has traveled the world for his job. My friend ran into him not too long ago and he looked responsible and older, like we all look older. But even older, I see him in my mind's eye as 20 behind the wheel of his car with a wife beater on. There are just some people you are happy you got to know, even if you only knew them a little bit for a little while, you know? That's Workman for me. 

Bald

It is that time of year again when I seriously consider shaving my head. 

Even typing this seems like a betrayal of the hair gods because it took so long for my hair to grow. However, sometimes I just get the urge to chop it all off, down to the scalp, which is funny, because one of my most traumatic experiences as a kid was a hair stylist telling me that I needed to cut my hair to a fade and start over again after a series of bad home relaxers. 

This girl, with whom I went to college, cut her hair all the way off. She is now totally bald and wears her makeup super pretty. If social media is telling the truth, it looks like she spends her spare time going to cocktail parties and dancing with her husband. With my luck, I will cut off all my hair and still be unmotivated, taking to the bed. I am also afraid that I have hotdog neck, and that can't be hidden if I shave my head. 

Truth be told, my hair is now one of my better qualities, and it has been a struggle getting here. I think that my desire to shave it sometimes comes from my desire for something new. What is newer than going bald? I don't know, just something to think about. 

Late Nights/ Emo Thoughts

I have officially entered my emotional reflective lady years. Anything can make me cry now which is hilarious, because I am a naturally emotional person. Today's tear jerker came from reflecting on my grandma and Mommy. 

My grandma was a sweet, petite, soft-spoken, prayerful women. Very feminine. Very kind. I always felt so loud and aggressive compared to her, and she was constantly trying to get me to lower my voice and put on a dress. As different as I thought we were when I was a kid, I see bits of her in me now. I always keep my purse near me. I keep stamps in my wallet. I write my name in every book I own as she used to do for me as a kid. I call folks to check in on them. I mostly only where dresses. 

Me and my mom had disagreements what felt like my whole life. She could be a tough cookie. I was always getting my feelings hurt. These things are true, but we have same hands. Sometimes, I just sit and stare at them just to see her. Its wild. 

Today, as my baby niece sat and played on her tablet on my bed, I wondered what traits she would have that she would one day say, "This came from my Aunty Holly." Maybe she will write people letters randomly. Maybe she will keep gummy bears in her purse. Perhaps she will journal. I promise you I will cry later at the thought that I won't be here to find out. 

Late nights are for emo thoughts.