Maybe You Can Help Me...
Maybe you can help me...
I'm looking for a brotha...My SoulMate? Do you know him?
Haven't seen him before, but I've been told that I would definitely recognize him when I see him.
I bumped into this guy, Mr. Right, who sidetracked me with engaging conversation; I told him I thought he looked familiar. He invited me to lunch at this fancy restaurant, so we could talk some more, but when we got there, he made me wait outside while he talked to the maitre' d. While he was inside, I left to continue my search. I didn't have to time to wait, no matter how nice the place was.
I thought that was him again that I ran into the other day, but it turned out to be this guy Mr. Right Now. He seemed to be in a hurry. We chatted, and he invited me to have lunch with him too. Only he wanted to get it to go. I decided that I wasn't in that big of a rush.
And then I ran into Mr. FWP; I was trying to describe My SoulMate to him, to see if he could help me find him. I eventually gave up; he seemed restless and inattentive. And he mentioned something about going to get something; didn't bother to even ask if I was hungry. Geez, I had wasted enough time already.
I came across this guy...he almost ran into me! He apologized, and asked where I was going in such a hurry. I told him I was looking for someone and proceeded to leave. He grabbed me by the arm (gently) and asked if I had a moment to chat. I said no, not really, I really need to find this person. He said after we talk, I'll help you look. I was tired of searching for the moment anyway. I stopped; we talked. I got wrapped up in the conversation. A great deal of time passed, and I forgot all about my search. It was getting late; I had to go. He extended his hand to shake mine; I noticed a silver bracelet.
I like your bracelet, I said.
Thank you, he said.
He turned to leave, and I remembered there was some tiny writing on the bracelet. Curiosity got the best of me, and I ran after him. Man he walks fast; he was halfway down the block. I caught up to him (out of breath) and asked what was written on the bracelet.
Just my initials, he said. He held it up to show me.
The initials were YSM.
What does that stand for? I asked. He smiled, and a feeling of content blanketed me like a down comforter. Lunch had come and gone, and I wasn't even hungry anymore.
The Wrong Side of the Bed
I woke up annoyed. I was sleeping peacefully and a decent hour for the first time in weeks. The fu** buddy calls me at damn near midnight (I'm a working woman now, so yes, that is late) trying to come over. Had to decline, even though I swear I haven't gotten any since Brad and Jennifer split. (yes, for me, that is a long time). Couldn't get back to sleep for another hour. Woke up 20 minutes late. My roomie has company, so I'm tippy-toeing through my apartment, which is the size of a matchbox. Waited untill the last minute to moisturize my feet, and when I put on my strappy sandals, my feet were sliding out of them with every step that I took. I missed my bus and had to wait for a later one, which made me late for my I'd-rather-watch-paint-dry-than-be-there temp job. Got to work, and had to make coffee (joy) which came out horrible because, here's a news flash, that's not particularly where my expertise lies. I have to answer two phones today because someone is out, and of course, one of the phones is another office. My knees touch the top of my formerly-a-coffee-table desk, so you can imagine how much it has been jumping up and down to get the phone. I have coffee breath and no gum. Sigh. I definitely woke up on the wrong side of the bed, but somehow I suspect that I may have fallen asleep there.
Do Unto Others...
What do you do when someone is interested in you, but you're not interested in them...and you don't know why? I constantly am having a guilty conscience about something, and today, it's not returning phone calls. Not just any phone calls; phone calls from guys who, initially, caught my interest, but after a while, lost it. I know it is a shitty thing to do; if I don't like them, why not just tell them? One, because more often than not the reason is something stupid, like he left me a message that was too long, or he spoke too slowly, or I didn't like his shoes. Two, because I am a non-confrontational person, and like most men coincidentally, I'd rather be hit by a Mack truck than hurt someone's feelings or make them feel rejected.
I know I am not the only one who has done this.
And yes, I get royally pissed when it is done to me.
But I also eventually get the picture. I was watching an episode of Six Feet Under (one of my favorite shows) and one of the characters, Rico, was dating this girl. It was all good for the first two dates. She was supposed to call him after the second date, and she didn't call. So Rico blows her phone up, shows up at her hang-out spots, and finally, after about two days, shows up at her door and convinces her landlord to let him in her apartment because he thinks something may be wrong. He barges into her house only to find her in there chillin, mad as hell. Like me, she didn't want to hurt his feelings, so she just stopped calling in hopes that he would get it. By this point, I'm sure you've already guessed that finally just told him she wasn't that into him.
Luckily, I haven't had a guy do that. But I always think about how I feel when a guy I've met decides early in the game that he is just not that into me. I immediately look at myself as to why. But when I do it to them, most of the time, they are perfectly nice guys, just not perfect for me. I don't like to waste time and frivolously date:
I am waiting for a man to, in the words of the Great Jill Scott, incite me to chorus.
And I'm willing to wait, guilty conscience and all.
Even if I am at the back of the line.
Guilty conscience and all.
Quarter-Life Crisis
So this is my first blog...I haven't written in a diary since I was 17. What do you write on these things? Well, my 25th birthday is coming up...NOT EXCITED. Thought the idea of a "quarter-life crisis" was a crock of doody, but lo and behold...I'd rather poke my own eyeballs with a pencil than turn 25. And I don't really have a good explanation for it. I mean, I am definitely not where I'd imagined I would be at 25. Everyone keeps saying, live it up! You're young! You've got so much time! If these people had any idea how much I was
planning to do, they might advise me to hurry up. Because the truth is, I've been hearing that since I was 20, and 25 ain't 20. You know what I mean? I guess it's not even so much what I haven't done, but more...what's next? Don't get me wrong, I appreciate time for what it is, and I understand that in the bigger picture, I am very young. So I don't want a bunch of forty-year olds responding to me in nasty e-mail tones to shut up and suck it up because at least I'm
only turning 25. I will do my best to enjoy this birthday.
I have a bunch of friends (who are all, for the most part, older than me) who are willing to help me make this birthday a great one. It's the least they can do, considering that spend every other day of the year giving me shit about not knowing the lyrics to songs that came out, like, the year I was born. (They aren't
that much older than me!) . It's funny, they are always complimenting me on how mature I am for my age, and yet they still, in a funny way, always manage to make me feel like a baby. I expect this from my mom, not my friends! And here's a big surprise: I happen to know
other 25 year olds who are just as mature! We are not all chickenheads! I made them promise not to me badger me with any snide, sarcastic or bitter age jokes on my birthday. We'll see if they oblige me.
