He Just Wasn't That Into Me

Winfrey does not like P. It's a sad and unfortunate fact, seeing that they are both dear friends of mine. The reasoning came up as to why recently, which reminded me of the situation between me and P in college. I had a crush on him but he did like me back. This we all know. But I thought I had reason to believe he did. Winfrey saw what I saw, and told everyone I was not nuts. They didn't believe me or her, and I was left looking and feeling desperate and stupid. 

The highlight of this time was when me and about three other friends organized a dinner we were going to invite our crushes too. I invited P and didn't hear back from him about it. The night of the dinner, the only guy to arrive was Kinfolk, invited by Haynes (they are now married). The rest of us had pretty long faces. I called P to see if he was coming and he yelled, "Stop inviting me to stuff. I don't like you like that!" before hanging up. I guess he just wasn't that in to me. I swallowed my tears in a big, hard gulp and tried to enjoy dinner. 

"Do you remember this P?" I asked him recently. 

"No, but it sounds like something I would say so it might have happened," he answered flatly. 

Honestly, I'd forgotten it too. I remember when it happened, I was pretty heart broken. I think the heart and mind work together to start the forgetting process when something sad and embarrassing enough happens. A lot of the things Winfrey recalled I hadn't thought of in years. 

Well, that was 20 years ago. I'm not 20 anymore. I'm looking forward to finding a connection with a man that my mind doesn't force me to forget about. 

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. 

Love and Middle Age 2: The Story of 😶

Just a week or so ago I had another conversation with TAFKAS, and yet again, he had a story for me. I tell you, TAFKAS is the grio of our generation! I take so much from his tales of love, loss, and distress. This go 'round, he told me the story of 😶.

I remember 😶 fondly from college. In a room full of young adult men who couldn't stop saying stupid ish, he said nothing. I mean, the boy was silent, nearly mute. As someone who over-talks, I appreciated this about him. Whenever I saw him, I'd say, "Hey 😶!", and he'd nod politely. Yet, according to TAFKAS, this was just the way he was around folks he didn't know. Around those who loved him, he was an anxiety-rising, sarcastic drunk, suffering from, you guessed it, the heartache and disappointment of love not actualized. 

Can I just say that I had no idea that men were out here brokenhearted like this! But I don't know why I am surprised. The older I get the more that I realize that we are all broken, being kept together with the strength of weak, wet, off-brand Bandaids just so we can go outside without falling to pieces. 

Anyway, back to😶 . The story of 😶 and Ife would have been a beautiful one if it would have  ever started. The two met at a summer program sponsored by our college for high school students. So by the time I arrived on the campus, they'd already been friends for two years. And I get why a guy would like Ife. She was smart but chill. She was cute but normal; very sweet and easy going. Yet for some reason unknown to anyone, he never tried to get with Ife. Over the years, this apparently has manifested into bitterness that is still present today. I mean, she is married with a family now. And here's another kicker: HE'S MARRIED TOO! He has this in common with 🍦, walking down the aisle when you are in love with someone else. I guess this is a thing, further proving my theory that by 40, you have already met the love of your life. 

What touched me about 😶's story is that, although I was not close to Ife, is that was familiar with a boy that she dated, XX. This guy was a piece of work. He was what the elders would have called "manish". He was in one of my study groups. I asked him why he was so quiet in the group once and he said he didn't know, then I turned his computer around to see that he was looking at pics of a half-naked booty model. And although he was not a bad guy, he had some annoying qualities. For one, he only wore ankle pants. I mean, come on! Can you image how 😶 must have felt, watching the woman of his dreams date a dude that wore capris and watched soft porn?! It was hard for me to watch! But again, I can connect. Every man I have ever loved ended up committing to women not as cool as me. 

Again, TAFKAS has painted a picture for me about the importance of shooting your shot. If only I would have understoond this when I had shots to shoot. 

P.S. - Where😶 now? According to Instagram, he is just out in the world working and living and being present in his family. I hope that this depiction is accurate. No good comes from being hung up on someone. Ask me...and 🍦...an everybody else..