The Douche Dynamic

My college homecoming just happened. I wasn't there and I am very sad about it. That whole weekend, I had to watch the play-by-play of all the fun events on Instagram. It sucked. But one IG story that caught my attention was that of Brandon Thomas, a guy who was a senior when I was a freshman. It was about his making amends with his college girlfriend after over 15 years of feeling guilty.
To understand the significance of this, you have to understand Brandon. He is cute and charismatic, but is best known for his outrageous social media posts about women and dating. One of my personal favorites is one where he goes in on a date because she had the audacity to order a desert on their first dinner outing. But that is only one of many posts that discuss how women are just out to get him for his money and clout and blah blah blah.
So, Brandon goes to homecoming and runs into Shanna, his girlfriend from freshman year. He was in love with her, but said he was being a "f*ck boy" and the relationship didn't work out. The very next man that Shanna got with, she married and is still married to today. He had the opportunity to talk to her, and she forgave him for whatever it was he did to end their young relationship.
As young adults, most of us didn't have instructions on how to date properly. Everything we learned was from rap songs and bad advice drunk family members gave us; movies and what our dumb friends told us. All we knew was that we should do the least possible to hurt the person we cared about, and 9 times out of 10, we ended of doing the opposite. Man, there is know hurt worse than the hurt caused by some who didn't know better; someone who had your heart and didn't know what to do with it. But what I have learned with age is that you should do right by folks not just because it is the right thing to do, but because doing bad by folks sticks in your system as well. You feel worse about the situation the older you get and the better your understanding of what a douche you were becomes.
Brandon had the taste of douche in his mouth for 15 years while the ex love of his life had moved on and married. For 15 years he wondered what if while she went on with her life. I think everyone has a Brandon chapter in their book. This whole thing made me wonder how easy dating would be if we didn't carry around regrets from past relationships. Most of us will never know. I know I won't after the Dreads situation. I guess all any of us can do is try to do better.

Foot Drama

The other day I was walking down the stairs with my fan. The cord some how got in front of me and I slammed my right foot down on the part that goes in the wall.
I have been limping around my house for like three days. I thought a pain in the neck was bad- a pain in the foot is HORRIBLE! It takes me 10 times longer to do everything. Getting up to go to the bathroom is a nightmare in the middle of the night.
Sitting down, my food feels fine. Then I get up, attempt to walk normally, and fall back down to the floor.
I don't want to go into next week with this crap, after lounging around with a frozen bag of peas on my foot, so it's mind over matter time. My foot is better. It's not swollen. It's not excruciating. All is well.

The Knee Nightmare

I write to you this morning after what very well may have the been the worst sleep of my life!
Yesterday morning, after innocently aiding my sister in opening a can of ravioli, I slid on a dustpan that someone left in the middle of the floor, thus landing super hard on my right knee. I mean, super hard.
If there was ever a time that I really think I needed a doctor, it was then. I tried to get up, and ended up back on the floor. And as my useless siblings watched me wallow in pain, I did my best not to scream. The next pain that I feel like this will probably be childbirth. Lying on the kitchen floor, I prayed not to get Arthritis from this. My grandma had it and she would cry, rubbing her hip, every time it rained. I had an old P.E. teacher who had to get a knee replacement, and it made her leg fatter than the other one. My aunt had knee surgery when I was in undergrad, and she is just now walking without a limp.
My knee is soooo stiff. I can't bend it. I literally had to stop, drop, and roll to get to the bathroom as Betsy, what I have now named my knee, snapped, crackled, and popped the whole way there. I'm fat, so I can't tell if my knee is swollen, but it hurts like Hell. Like. Hell.
So about my sleep: it sucked. I didn't know what a big part being able to bend your knee played in a good night's rest. A half-baked fetal position and sitting up, those are the only two positions I could muster. I cried, I prayed, I whaled. I wished I had a Midol or some crack or a gun, anything to ease the misery. Finally, God had mercy on me and Betsy, and blessed me with 46 straight minutes or rest, a record for the night.
Here is something you may or may not know about me: I hate being hurt and I hate being sick. I have true disdain for anything that prevents me from doing things at the speed I would usually do them. Last night, it took my brother 20 minutes to prepare me a bag of ice for Betsy. It would have taken me 3!
As I type this post, groggy and annoyed, I try not to resent my siblings for not helping me and for leaving shit just lying around. I have to stop myself from hoping one of them falls. Uh-oh, negative thoughts. Time to turn to my gospel playlist.

Embarrassed

P said some out of line shizzle to me not too long ago. I would tell you what he said, but I would be too ashamed, frankly.
Any way, I called him and talked to him about it yesterday after not talking to him for two weeks, and he told me that what he said was meant to be "light-hearted" and "if I took offense to it then that was just me."
I was numb. I didn't say anything...but this: "I'm not mad at you. I'm mad at me for letting you get so comfortable with disrespecting me. If you ever say something to me like that again, we will not be cool, we will not be friends."
His response, "I don't respond to ultimatums."
Oh, so it's an ultimatum to show me some respect?!
After a friend called him and called him on it, he sent me a text, apologizing right before he brought up some off-hand example of me offending him. I personally don't believe that because I don't believe he can be offended.
The moral of the story: I am so embarrassed. I am embarrassed that I am hurt by the words of a man that doesn't give a shit, clearly. I am embarrassed that I am his friend after 19 years of watching my mother get disrespected. I am embarrassed that I am trying to justify his out-of-line words after seeing my friends and the women around me get disrespected. I am embarrassed that after 25 years of being stern on not disrespecting myself, I did so by letting him do it for me. I am embarrassed that I am even taking time to vent about this while he is probably going along with his day, not concerned.
Am I hurt? Yes. Hurt and confused. I don't get how I am thrown cruelty daily be strangers but somehow, his words always shatter the glass.
Brownie said let it burn and my girl said his friendship to me is poisonous. All I can say is, either way, I don't want to be my mom. Period.