I love his big ego. (Okay, I’m lying.)

19 07 2010

They say you’re supposed to look at your relationships for patterns…especially the relationships that didn’t work out. The thought is that you’ll recognize the pattern and make a conscious effort not to repeat it, thus increasing your chances for success in your next relationship. I never put much stock in the idea. Besides, I couldn’t sleuth out a pattern anyway, so I assumed there wasn’t one. But on further review, I came up with something that was pretty disturbing.

I have a thing for big egos.

The one commonality in my last “situations” (and I use even that word extremely loosely) has been an overwhelming need for the other person to have their egos stroked. Light, but constant ego stroking. Unfortunately, I’ve never been particularly good at the art of caressing another’s precious ego. That’s not to say I’m a meanie. I’m very sweet, but not cloyingly so. I might tell you I think you look nice. But don’t expect that every time you do better than a t-shirt. When I’ve held back on that ego fluffing, those compliments and declarations that I found corny or trite, those people have pulled away from me. To be fair, I don’t expect constant adulation in return. I give a little and I like a little. But too much and I just think you’re lying. I’m not always brilliant and gorgeous. Sometimes I’m clumsy and inadequate; trying to gas me otherwise just trips my internal alarms. I guess I assumed others shared the same BS-ometer.

Those whom I’ve been involved with, even casually, apparently don’t.

Facebook and Twitter have given me a window on the way they relate to other women. Basically, the same women tell them how smart and sexy and handsome and awesome they are over and over and they eat it up like free pancakes. Now are they? Well, yeah, kinda. At least a little or I wouldn’t have been interested. But enough is enough. Or maybe it’s not.

There’s no doubt in my mind that these guys get off on hearing how awesome they are. And if a woman really feels the need to drive home that point in every comment they make to them, so be it. My personal preference is to let my actions speak for me. When I send a book I know he’ll like, it’s because I respect his intelligence. Or if I suggest something that helps him be more productive, it’s because I admire his work ethic. When I take the time to tell others what he’s doing, it’s because I’m proud of what he’s done. I guess if you need big, flashing neon sign, I’m not your girl. I’m more of a candle in the window type.

Anyway, I’m learning to look at situations as a whole. Just like I’m not comfortable commenting “You’re so hot!” to every twitpic, there are people who expect that because public declarations are what they privately enjoy. I gave up judging others last lifetime, so it is what it is. The lesson is that there’s a lid for every pot. And the pots I’ve been picking lately have egos bigger than my lid can cover.





Him and Me and You and Her – And that might be okay.

29 04 2010

So I’m not sure that men and women are meant to be monogamous.

What I mean is that I’m not entirely sure that’s the way we’re designed to be, nor am I sure it’s the most productive relationship structure for our day and time.

(Before I go into my reasoning here, understand that I’m not out to change anyone’s mind on the subject and I’m not really trying to argue about it either, though I don’t mind discussion. I like to think that I’m able to challenge my own conventional wisdom and that’s really the only thing I ever hope to do. Everyone has to find their own truth in the world. I’m just trying to formulate mine. It might change, so chill out and take it for what it is. )

In the animal world, very few mammals are truly monogamous, that is to say they only mate with one partner for the whole of their lives. There are many that mate with several other animals for a variety of reasons which include security and natural instinct. We like to think we’re so different from animals, but in many ways, we aren’t. Our natural desires can and often do lead us to become attached, emotionally and sometimes physically, to more than one person in the span of our lives. Because we’re dynamic individuals, we change and our needs change. It might not be reasonable to expect one person to fulfill our needs from the time we meet them until we die. We should also consider that we might not be everything all the time to them. We can accept that people are dynamic individuals that grow and change, but oddly, we expect our relationships to remain static and then we wonder why they aren’t working out. We say things like, “It’s natural to look. It’s even natural to flirt” and many of us can accept that about our partners, but feel as though it’s unnatural to act. In nature, they’re usually one and the same.

It’s become a forgone conclusion that some people are just going to get divorced. Instead of seeing marriage as a commitment that is perhaps mutable, we often view it as disposable. Oftentimes it’s not that the couple doesn’t love each other anymore. Maybe their interests and desires changed and their partner’s didn’t or they just found someone else to love too.  Perhaps this why you sometimes see people marry, divorce and remarry the same person. Because monogamy limits what you can do as far as seeking attention, affection and companionship from other people, divorce is often the only option. But divorce is a severing of bonds and too often the devastation of a family. If we viewed relationships as dynamic, there wouldn’t be as much of a need to sever bonds, but there would be an opportunity to loosen the ropes.

I wrote before about how if something has legs, it can walk. We don’t own anything or anyone. Every day, your partner makes a choice to be with you. Some people say marriage makes it a mandate and that’s why they avoid getting married. They want to make the choice to stay every day. But I say it doesn’t matter. Ask a married person who’s husband or wife went out for cigarettes and never came home – even married people have a choice. However, the idea of monogamy, the way that we often practice it, assumes a type of ownership – a possessiveness if you will. Because we see our partner as our property, it’s hard to think about someone else having what’s ours, or even that they have a choice in where they want to be. But we have so many different qualities as people that are attractive and attracting, that I’m not sure we can look at it that way.

If we were truly meant to be monogamous, I’m not sure we could love another person after we’d met the one for us. But clearly, we can. Some people fall in love 3 or 4 times in a lifetime. What makes you think it’s unlikely it will happen while a person is already in a relationship? While it’s true that some people fall out of love too, most people have someone they will always love. What if you could be in a relationship with that person, but still experience love and closeness and companionship with another person?

I’m not suggesting that people go around cheating. That’s not honest and loving relationships are built on honesty and trust. I’m suggesting that instead of making it a capital offense that your husband has an “office wife”, maybe you can respect that relationship and allow it to grow. On the same line, a husband could respect and allow a woman to have a male companion that meets needs that he might not at that time. It doesn’t mean the two don’t love each other, it’s just that you need different things at different times and different people can provide that.

People generally refer to this as polyamory or polygamy, if you’re married. It differs from polygyny and polyandry in that both the man and the woman in the relationship can exercise the option to have a relationship with other people.  I think that’s important to note, because while some people tout polygyny as the answer to the single woman/ single motherhood problems of the world, I think women are just as apt to need more that one relationship to fulfill them as men are. I think that different models would work for different relationships and different times in life. While I might not be interested in maintaining two relationships myself while I have young children, having a co-wife around might relieve some of my stress because my husband wouldn’t have to depend solely on me for the things he needs while I’m also caring for children. On the same token, I might just need someone else to lean on if my husband is putting a lot into providing for our family, but doesn’t have the time I’d desire to spend with me.

I don’t think it is for everyone. I think that many, if not most, people are going to be happy with one person forever, the end. But I also know that there are a great number of people who aren’t necessarily  happy, so they go out and lie and cheat and mislead their partner, a person who they love, because there isn’t an acceptable way to express the desire to be wanted or needed by other people. I don’t believe anyone really wants to hurt the people they truly love, but I also think that people shouldn’t be boxed into a relationship that they don’t want to discard, but that they need to supplement, without a reasonable, mutually agreed upon way to do so.

Marriage as a culmination to a romantic life is almost an American idea. In many parts of the world, a marriage seen as more of a stop along the journey. In fact,  Murdock’s Ethnographic  Atlas supports that of 1231 societies in the world, a whopping 588 practiced polygamy regularly with another 486 practicing a more occasional form of polygamy or polyamory. I’m not saying they’re right and we’re wrong, I’m just saying that it makes me think that maybe we’re missing something.

Now, I know it seems like I can say all this because I’m so very single and perhaps I just haven’t met the one person I want to spend the rest of my life with. Maybe. But I also am willing to admit that I’ve been in love with more than one person at a time. Just like I love both peanut butter cookies and chocolate chip cookies, I loved them both. There were different things about them that I loved and still love. It would be nice to have both in my life. I’m a Scorpio, I have to fight possessive urges, but I think I’d be able to do it if there were a mutual understanding and a solid relationship to begin with. I guess, to me, that’s the key. If someone is really “yours” ( and I use that term with so much caution) they will return home to you strengthened and renewed to love you more. And if you really belong to them, you’ll do the same. You can’t get to this point without a very solid relationship and that might take a long time. But when you get there, I don’t see a real reason that you can’t enjoy time with other people.

____________________________________________________________________________________

I’d be remiss not to mention Kenya K. Steven’s Jujumamablog:  www.jujumamablog.com Kenya and her husband have a fascinating story and it helped me solidify some of the ideas I was already working on.

Ethnographic Atlas Codes – http://eclectic.ss.uci.edu/~drwhite/worldcul/Codebook4EthnoAtlas.pdf

Deflating the Myth of Monogamy -http://www.trinity.edu/rnadeau/fys/barash%20on%20monogamy.htm





Be ready, ready.

26 04 2010

I had a great conversation with my BFF this weekend about being prepared. We’re wanting some things in 2010 and beyond. I’m pretty good at identifying what I want. But what we talked about was being prepared for that. I’m not even talking about mental and emotional preparation. I’m talking about the nuts and bolts. How can I seriously want to go on a date and not have a date dress and heels on deck? I could find something, but I’m not ready now. I wouldn’t be comfortable, because I’m not prepared. How can I keep trying to write a book, but keep losing my notes? I need to do more organizing so I can be ready to make that happen.

I’m beginning to think that I’m slowed in progress with some things because I’m literally unprepared. Maybe it’s a good thing that I’m not receiving the things I would like right now; I’d be all surprised and stalling.  So I’m going to use this retrograde period to reflect on how I can be prepared, mentally, physically, realistically and logistically.





Tomorrow

11 04 2010

So what do I say tomorrow?

Tonight, I’m busy. I’ve been to the store. I’ve watered the lawn. I’ve washed my face. I watched the news; I knew better, but I did anyway. I’m working on a presentation. This is a Sunday, some people say a holy day. I’ve been trying not to think about the sickness of the world. But what do I say tomorrow?

Tomorrow, my students return with questions and this time the teacher will have no answers. No words I say will ease the discomfort of a missing face, a voice, a laugh. There is nothing even an eloquent speaker can say to bring back life. But I have to say something. So what will it be?

I don’t know. I won’t know until I get there. And maybe there won’t be much to say at first. But by afternoon, by the time of our class, there will be the raw ache of knowing that one of the many students I’m charged with teaching, will be tragically and finally absent. And those who remain will wonder, as I will, why?

If you are called to teach, to serve in that way, your students sort of become your children. I don’t presume to know the pain of a parent that has lost a child. I imagine that it is an unbearable weight find that the natural order has been pre-empted and my heart goes out to those who experience that pain. But for a little while, every day, my students are my children and if there were any way I could keep them from harm, I would do it with no hesitation. It is a helpless, hurting feeling when you can’t.

I pray I find the right words, the best words tomorrow. And if I’m not able to come up with words, I pray that my children understand my heart.





Cold Turkey

6 04 2010

Sometimes you just gotta stop, you know?

Everything isn’t meant to last forever and everyone isn’t supposed to be a part of our lives. I’m someone who feels bad when I have to cut off the foolishness because I feel like that’s a personal failure, that I failed in some sort of way. But that’s not the truth. Sometimes you have to just move on and it’s not anyone’s fault.

Long goodbyes. That’s not so good for me. I can always think of a lot of reasons to stick it out, so I usually talk myself into at least another few months. And then I do it again. And then it’s years later. In coming to know myself, I’m starting to realize that it’s better, for me at least, to rip the band-aid off. Stop the insanity, as Susan Powter (google that) would say. I need to go cold turkey.

I talk a good game. I’ve talked this game before. But this morning, I woke up with a puffy face and thought, “Ugh…we doing this again? This is ruining my sexy!” I won’t bore you with the details, but I will say that the bachelorette is going through a moment. Over and over again. Like Groundhog Day. And I need to give it up and turn it loose. Immediately.

But I’m hardheaded. I think I know what’s best for me, but I’m still learning who I am, so I don’t know half of what I think I do. I guess, I just need to trust my mind, because my heart is so backwards sometimes. It’s sad, but true. What you want is not always what you need and that’s a hard lesson to learn, but the sooner I do, the better off I’ll be.

I’m not going to look back. I can’t this time. Chile, look back at what? Some nice memories and a whole lot of lackluster ones? If I’d unstick my feet for just a moment, maybe I could just make some new memories. It’s time to at least give it a try. What have I got to lose?





Introspect

6 04 2010

I looked in the mirror recently and saw the years creeping onto my face, settling comfortably, unlike my soul. I still look like myself, but I also look older and smarter and more graceful. When, I wonder, will that gracefulness translate itself into the clumsy situation that I call my life. Up until recently, I felt I spent a lot of time stumbling through the days and weeks trying to connect invisible dots. Not knowing what you’re supposed to be doing makes it difficult to know when you’ve accomplished the goal. I spent quite a while looking for someone or something to tell me what I was supposed to be, who I was supposed to be and how I was supposed to get there. It feels ludicrous to type that. It seems like an absurd thought that I sought an answer for questions so personal anywhere but in myself. But I did.

I don’t have all the answers. You’re looking at the wrong blog for that. If anything, I have more questions than anything. The only difference is that I know the answers to my most burning questions aren’t anywhere but inside of me. Perhaps they lie dormant and my task is to learn how to activate the knowledge of self that’s encoded in my being, my mind and my spirit. Seriously. I’m of the mind that we come with all we need, if we just would learn how to access it. We are intuitive creatures, we can sense so many things if we let ourselves. We know when to be afraid or when to be excited. Most of the time, we know when things feel wrong or right, if we’re being honest. No one teaches you that, you just know it. I think that some of the deepest questions about ourselves, we know the answers to as well. Maybe we ignore a lot of what we know for the sake of getting along or making things go more smoothly, but we know, inside, what’s going on.

I wish I had more answers today. All I seem to have is questions I’m too afraid to answer for myself. On one hand, I want to know. On the other, I already know and I want to pretend I don’t.





Dénouement

19 01 2010

So now I’m in a ditch, covered with muddy water and embarrassment. My purse is on the grass with my Sunday school envelope laid beside it. And he’s not driving; he’s looking at me shocked. Then he puts the car in park and carefully walks to the edge of the ditch in question and peers in at me.

“Come on. Let me help you up.”

I’m stubborn. That’s how I got here in the first place. And like a child I shake my head. He sighs and wonders how we’re going to get out of this. I can read his expression, even in the dusk, even without my glasses which have flown onto the roadside. He looks down at the grass and I know he’s wondering whether or not he should cut his losses. He’s considered that before. But he’s my man. He won’t leave me. Even when he retreats to the hood of the car, he can’t leave.

“What’s on your mind, girl?”

I talk. Words tumble out and roll like marbles. We’re at the same spot we’ve always been. And if we never move? Then what? I feel like he doesn’t need me. Doesn’t matter if I stay or if I go. But I don’t want to go. I want to stay – and live. There’s something biting my ankle in this ditch and it does hurt, but I can’t move until he hears me. He tugs on his overalls and looks down the road.

“I do need you. It’s hard to explain. Maybe if you’d let me help you out of there…”

I want promises. Commitments. Reassurance. Or I’m not going anywhere. It’s juvenile, but I can’t think of another way right now. “Say anything, anything to get me to move,” I pray silently. That’s not him though. We’re looking at one another. When I see him, it’s always like the first time. I don’t want to cry, but I feel my tears stinging . He and I are more alike than different. I put my hand on my hip and suck my teeth as I blink away the tears. His eyes are back down the road.

“I won’t be railroaded. Get out of the damn ditch and we can talk.” Then pleadingly. “Okay?”

“You gone let me sit square on that Fine Corinthian Leather? I smell like swamp and hot woman.”

“Suppose. You know you’re finer than that leather anyway.”

I smile. That’s a reassurance of sorts. I’ll take it. I stretch out my hand and he helps me up the steep embankment.

“You’re a mess. In a cute way, I think,” he chuckles. “You know I need you around. You do know that, don’t you?” He touches the side of my muddy face softly.

“That’s all I needed to hear, I guess.”





So what DO men want?

2 01 2010


I need some honest answers and I need them now.

Lately, a lot has been said about the single-ness of Black women. More specifically, young, educated, fairly successful Black women who, while it would seem they are the perfect catch, find themselves alone. Usually, I’m lucky and articles I read and things I see have little or nothing to do with me. Unfortunately, this time I wasn’t so lucky. The woman that was being described, that successful during the day and lonely at night woman, was me.

I talk sometimes about my resume: I’m degreed, I have a good job, a house, a car, I’m smart, I cook. I’m supportive and caring. Independent, unbiased sources have verified that I’m fairly attractive. Whatever. I can reel off about 20 other excellent reasons that I should be someone else’s significant other. I can even come up with some reasons that might disqualify me: I’m a little more round, if you will, than I used to be, living alone has made me a hermit, a lot of Texas guys can’t take natural hair seriously. I’m a realist; I’m not going to be everyone’s cup of tea.

But, damn, you’d think I’d be someone’s cup of tea.

Somewhere in the middle, there has to be an answer. And I’m kinda close to giving up on the game totally and accepting that some people are just meant to be alone and I’m just one of those people. But before I do, I promised myself I’d give it another chance in 2010. An honest, real, I’m really trying, chance.

(Let me preface this next part: I will never be against another sister. And I know times are hard. I want everyone to find that someone. But I’m sure I’ll be accused of hating anyway.)

Men do a lot of talking about what they want in a woman. And then they do a lot of contradicting themselves. You want Miss Independent, but you hook up with the most dependent woman you can find. You want someone who supports your dreams, but you stay with someone who stifles your creativity and makes you feel like a loser. You want someone with ambition, but you’ll take someone who’s real ambition is for you to make her situation better – the less she spends on rent, the more she can spend on clothes. I know those are gross generalizations, but when I look around, it just seems that women who aren’t trying to do a whole lot with themselves don’t have a problem getting a man. And women who are out there trying to do some things are spending their lives alone.

Now before you say “Maybe your standards are too high” you should know this: that might be the case if I were even meeting men. But I’m not. I’m not even meeting men to turn down anymore. So it’s not that. My standards aren’t a high hurdle, by the way. I have to be reasonable attracted to you and you have to live an honest life. Be able to take care of yourself and your responsibilities in an honest, lawful way. Don’t be a complete idiot. I would like a Black man. That’s about it, I’m flexible on the rest, within reason. No height or salary requirements. And as for me, like I said, I know there’s a little more of me to love lately, but I don’t think that’s it either. When I go to the mall or just out and about, I’m seeing lots of women with a whole, whole, whole lot more to love and they’re not alone.

So what I need to know is what men are really interested in. There are some things I’ll never be. I’ll never be a model. I’ll never be younger. I’ll never be more naïve. But, I imagine (ok, I hope), there are other things men are interested in. I’d like to know what they are, because I’d like to give myself a fighting chance. I want to know what I’m up against. I don’t need to hear about how I need to pray or be patient or anything like that. I need to know what men want. I need some ideas. I’m not promising I’ll be doing a complete rehaul, but I the fact is if I don’t change something, nothing is going to change.

What you got? I’m all ears.





I fell into his smile and couldn’t get away

8 12 2009

I had a ticket to another show that night, so I called myself just passing through. But by then, I was lost (I didn’t see a block party of any sort) and about to leave. You’re never more than 20 minutes away from a mall, right? I figured I’d waste the rest of the day walking the recycled air of retailers. I’d almost called it an afternoon when I heard him call my name.

Seriously?

I figure this guy knows a billion people – that’s not an exaggeration – he can’t pick me out on the sidewalk. But he did. That tickled me, but I didn’t want to laugh too hard. I think laughing too hard makes me look like Mrs. Buttersworth, all jolly and shit. He was exactly as I expected him to be, including how we looked eye to eye. I liked that. Equal footing, I say. He was handsome with a bouncy walk and a friendly demeanor. He spoke to everyone. I liked that too. I’m not much of a talker sometimes, but I can appreciate it.

Up the street. Down the street. Back where we started. Short street, but it took awhile. We looked at stuff, talked to people. But there seemed to be no party. When we got inside, we talked. I remember telling a friend later, that I’d never had a man look me in the eye so intently as I spoke. It made me uncomfortable, but only because it never happened before. He was really paying attention. Or he was really faking it. I don’t know, but I was quite impressed. He was animated and warm. Genuinely friendly. Slightly goofy. Good sense of humor. Very nice. And because I was having such a good time, a few hours into the night, I almost hated to excuse myself to the restroom.

I stared in to the mirror. I wanted to get away and I did. It was a good trip too. Lots of time to think and do whatever I wanted. I’d have to call it a success. I dug in my purse and pulled out the ticket. The show was at 9. It was 8. I had a choice to make. Do I ask him for directions to the other spot? I knew he’d know, this was his town. I mean, I hadn’t actually planned to say more than “Hi”. And there we were, listening to bands and joking around. I hadn’t actually planned to stay. But, as the poem goes, “The best laid plans of mice and men, oft go awry.” I stared at the ticket. I’d seen Van several times. It was always a good show. So why was I hesitating?

I probably won’t ever know the answer to that, because I didn’t let myself get that far. I tore the ticket in two. I threw it away. When I got back to the table, he was there smiling. (Okay, maybe he was wincing in pain. That’s another story for another day.) Sometimes, better plans fall into your lap.

He’s a nice guy.





23 1/2

2 12 2009

Here is 23 1/2
my hair in rollers
on the toilet I sat on
as a child
as a teenager
I am a grown woman
my head is clear
but my heart is broke
just like my bank account
days are blending in with one another
I wonder if I’m doing this right
my life
not exactly like I planned
but still existing somehow
the ants that bite my feet
at night
remind me I’m alive.
I’m losing weight
and losing patience
to match the mind I lost last year.
I can never catch the man I love.
He is like a vapor.
Come close and he’s gone again.
But my skin tone is beautiful lately
So there is something to smile
about anyway
right here at 23 1/2

©2004 KaLeah Hicks