Hey Ladies (and gentlemen)!! Real quick, if you haven’t read SiNgLe MoMmY FiLeS – “WrOnG MiStEr” Pt. 1 please check it out before you go any further.
Okay, so remember when I mentioned that my plight transitioning into the next phase of my life…to date or not to date…was going to be an interesting ride? Well, the first time I decided to buckle my seatbelt, the ride was just that…interesting.
So one unsuspecting night, I met a man through a mutual friend, not with the purpose of getting to know him or even dating, we both just happened to be in the same place at the same time and hit it off. I remember vividly, having a pretty heated debate about dating, relationships, marriage and everything before, after and in-between.
I had my strong convictions about men and the issues they seemed to bring to the table, like their lack of communication, irresponsibility, selfishness, superficial attraction to women, infidelity, etc. (my source? Experience and countless stories from other women I knew). And he shared a few of his biggest hang-ups with women, which was their thirstiness (see, I told you this came up a lot in conversations with men), gold digging (yes, apparently there is such a woman out there that only goes after men with money), and our baggage handling (and I don’t mean a Samsonite carry-on or rolling suitcase ladies). I’m talking about the emotional baggage that “allegedly” only we women take from our failed relationships and bring onboard our new and improved relationships. And just so you know, I made up the term “baggage handling,” but give it some time, I’m sure it’ll end up on the ‘Ridiculous List of Urban Stereotypes for Women’ soon enough.
So anyway, that night, we presented strong cases, heard each other out, respected each other’s opinion, and in the end pretty much agreed to disagree on most things (mainly the stereotypes), just as I expected. By the time the white flag was thrown into the battle of the sexes, I noticed how great of a smile he had. I admired his winning personality, it was refreshing. I enjoyed his conversation and respected his ability to stand his ground with me as a man…I was actually attracted to someone for the first time in four years.
Of course, I didn’t act on the attraction. But luckily, we ran into each other a few more times. We would flirt with one another through semi-heated debates, which I later believed he started intentionally just to push my buttons and see my feisty side *growls.* I kind of think that disagreements turned him on…I do…I’m just saying.
We developed a friendship that involved us talking and laughing a couple times a day—about any and everything–for hours on end. We had the greatest conversations on the phone. We even kicked it at a few social events. Now mind you, I still was not in any kind of rush to be in a relationship, nor had I become desperate aka thirsty to have a man, but what we were building was genuinely nice and I was open to whatever the future could hold.
What was he like, you ask? He was a good old-fashioned southern church boy, whose morals and ideas about life, friendship, relationship, marriage, parenting, money, etc., were very similar to mine, once we got past those dreaded stereotypes. He was a handsome guy although there was one area in which he came up short, but there was nothing he could do about that. Now ladies get your minds out of the gutter. He and I were not thinking, hinting around to, or even talking about sex—which was a definite plus—we had both made decisions (prior to meeting each other) to wait until we were married.
He was educated, had a couple of jobs, his own money, own place, own car, no kids (I hadn’t decided if that was a pro or con yet), and had never been married. He had had a few serious relationships, one of which was long term, but they had been broken up for a while. Ladies, you would be proud, I did my due diligence and determined very early on in this “getting to know each other” stage, that he wasn’t a…don…don…don…serial killer. I was on to something good right? No! And let me tell you why.
Maybe a couple months down the line; this dude started changing on me. He was falling off, not calling as often, when in the beginning, a day wouldn’t go by without us conversing. So naturally, I got concerned and asked if we were cool, if everything was okay with him…with us. “Yea, we’re good,” he would say, but he continued to show me otherwise.
Now here’s the thing. We WERE NOT in a relationship. There WERE NO titles. We HAD NOT decided to take this friendship any further than friendship. There WAS NO exclusivity. He DID NOT owe me anything. I understood that. However, you would think as friends–that talked everyday and hung out together, pretty much every weekend–that we would at least be honest…completely honest with one another.
We ended up having a very awkward conversation. In fact, it was more like an argument, because I believe he snapped at me for being genuinely concerned about my friend, who was acting extremely weird and distant. To be honest, I may have had an emotion or two invested, so I was definitely trying to make sure that we were still heading in the same direction, if not on the same page. My heart wasn’t up for any games.
To make a long story short (I’m probably a little too late for that, but anyway), our telephone conversations grew more infrequent and we eventually stopped talking to each other altogether. And yes, it did hurt my feelings a little, because I thought we were friends, and I deserved an explanation, if nothing else. I got over it though, deleted his number, swore off men, and decided to take myself off the market.
Funny thing is, a few months later, he reached out to me and I ended up answering the phone. Being the forgiving person I am, we talked that night, like old friends, for hours. You would have thought that nothing ever happened. I never said a word about how bad I felt he treated me as a friend, because I was over it. Now, before you start calling me foolish, let me tell you, as soon as we ended the call, I saved his number again and changed his contact name to: DO NOT ANSWER. Oh yea, if you’re reading this now wrong mister, yes, I most certainly did do that, and now you know why I never picked up any of your phone calls or responded to any of your text messages. *winks*
My theory as to how things went from being so sweet to bitter between us, seemingly over night, is his ex-girlfriend showed up. Remember that long term relationship I mentioned? Well, I knew about her (he was open about that), and I believe they decided to rekindle their on-again, off-again love.
Honestly ladies, if he would have told me she was back in the picture, I would have been a little disappointed, but his decision to be with her would have been totally respected. And believe me, I would have encouraged the re-union, because the last thing I wanted was a man that was still in love with his ex.
In the end, there were really no hard feelings. I just thought that was a very immature and disrespectful way for a grown man to handle a friendship with a woman. Maybe another man (or woman) would totally disagree with me, feel free to let me know if you do, but at that point, I wasn’t sure if I was up to getting to know anyone else. I actually didn’t for a whole year, and ladies, I can’t wait to tell you about that one! But I’ll save it until Wednesday.
See you then. Same time, same place.
Someone told me the other day that the “life of a writer is an open book.” I must admit that freaked me out a little…well…maybe a lot. I mean, my intentions from the beginning has always been to be open and honest, but I guess I hadn’t thought about how far open. Apparently, I’ve written some good stuff thus far—I’m not tooting my own horn here—but it’s based on the comments from supporters that have frequented my blog. I appreciate all the dialogue, the “likes” and the shares! Keep it coming ladies! If you haven’t thus far, please go check out my posts. The rest of you come with me please.
Around four years into my post-divorce phase, I’m convinced my biological alarm did more than just tick, it started blaring. I was DVRing and watching episodes of 16 and Pregnant, boo-hooing during every one of the labor and delivery scenes (don’t judge me now; Baby Stories is off the air). I eventually stopped tuning in and torturing myself by way of the television. But all it took was one “goo-goo gaga” of a precious little baby boy or girl in a stroller or the arms of another new mommy to get me going again.
Not to mention, my son was begging for me to have a baby; a sister, according to his specifications, because he figured she wouldn’t bother his things, but a brother would. Our conversations usually went a little something like this…
“Mom, since you’re not going to be with my dad…wait…are you sure you’re not going to be with my dad?”
“I’m sure. You’re dad and I are just friends.”
“Well, that sucks! I’m still a little upset about that. But why don’t you just marry someone else, have a baby, then get a divorce.”
“Why would I get a divorce? I want to be married again.”
“Because I don’t want another daddy, I just want a sister.”
Obviously he and I had several long discussions about daddies, babies, marriage, and divorce. But, truth is, I wanted a baby just as bad as he wanted me to have one. And that meant I had to at least be open to date, in order to get a man, that could eventually be my husband.
How hard could it be? Well…extremely difficult for someone like me, who was terrified of the idea of meeting a stranger, who could potentially be a serial killer; trusting him, when he could potentially be a serial killer, or even allowing him to get to know me or my son for that matter, when he could potentially be…yes…a serial killer. I had problems in the trust area as you can see, but you have to admit the odds are up there. But real talk, even if that was the least of my worries, ulterior motives, infidelity, mental instability, criminal records, numerous baby momma’s, and STDs were definitely some of the major concerns I had with meeting someone.
And as cute as I thought I was at times–my insecurities would come and go—men weren’t actually throwing themselves at me or chasing me down. And I’m such a traditionalist. I figured if they were interested then they would approach me. That’s the way I remembered it working when I was single back in 1997. Boy was I in for a rude awakening…things had changed a lot.
A few of my bff’s gave me some advice. There was a common consensus that I had to be a little more forward if I wanted to start dating—like, “hey I couldn’t help but notice you looking my way. My name is…” or “What’s the name of that coffee, is it good? I was going to try that. By the way, my name is…” forward. I wasn’t comfortable enough with approaching a man and having a conversation with him in Starbucks or Barnes & Noble or anywhere else for that matter. I just wasn’t. However, I could run my mouth all day about life and current affairs with any man, if “getting to know you” wasn’t my objective.
I was told that, although I was beautiful (beauty is in the eye of the beholder), when I walked into a room, I emitted this energy that I was either unavailable or not interested at all. So I had to change that and maybe start giving a little more eye contact, or smiling back, and an occasional wink or two might not hurt. “Are you serious?” I asked. “Yesss,” they all would say. And the ridiculous to-do list just went on and on, in my mind.
I’m still shocked at the role single women have to play in the dating game. We’re expected to throw ourselves out there just enough so men know that we’re interested in them too. But be careful ladies, not too much throwing, because we could easily be labeled as one of those ThIrStY ChIcKs I talked about in another post. From what my girls told me, we have TLC’s “No Scrubs” and Destiny Child’s “Bills, Bills, Bills” (can you pay my bills) and “Independent Women” movement to thank.
In my opinion, men seemS to be intimidated or maybe more insecure about the possibility of rejection–I knew the latter to be definitely true because of conversations I had with my male friends. But, it was just too much. I was dealing with my biological crisis while trying to maintain my SiNgLeNeSs with some dignity.
So I figured the best bet would be to be totally open to getting to know someone and dating but with one major condition; he would have to be highly recommended. Someone I knew or someone that knew someone I knew (friend of a friend) would have to seriously vouch for this guy. I had a few other non-negotiables too. He had to have his own relationship with God, be heterosexual (you have to be specific these days), love me and my son, have an education and his own money, be respectful, responsible, and honest. My list wasn’t as extensive as Chili’s–although I respected her for knowing exactly what she wanted–but it was sure to narrow down the bunch.
So as you can see ladies, my plight transitioning into the next phase of my life…to date or not to date…was going to be an interesting ride to say the least. I have plans to take you along with me, on a WrOnG MiStEr series. Be sure to read Part 2 – 12.
Until next time Mommies…