“8 years.”
The look on his face looks like I told him how long its been since my last serious relationship was like I just told him Trump wasn’t so bad.
“Wait, seriously?” He sat a little straighter in his chair, a little more alert. No longer trying to sexily lean forward and stare me in my eyes like he was trying to see my soul. Lowkey, it wasn’t that sexy. I think I have a lazy eye so me trying to keep steady eye contact like that was actually fucking me up.
“Yup. 8 years”
…Here is where is the semi-ok date went left. …
Him: OK. So what’s wrong with you? *slight chuckle*
Me: *pauses a minute. takes sip of drink* Oh… well right now it’s me sitting here with you.
Him: Wait, what?
Me: *as I’m gathering my things*… You. You’re what’s wrong with me. So I am leaving.”
Him:
This is the first date I went on in Cali. Everyone out here reminds me of e40 and that’s not doing it for me. I didn’t tell anyone because, I kinda wanted date without anyone asking follow ups. I wanted to just enjoy a quick night with company. The transition gets lonely sometimes. He was tall, kinda cute, and had a dorky laugh that made me smile. I could imagine watching Netflix series with him on my new couch as he played with my curls. We met one day when I on a random walk in San Francisco, trying to learn my neighborhood. Someone bumped into me and didn’t even look back as we crowded the street. He saw the annoyed confusion on my Fenty’d face, and he leans over and says “Oh you ain’t know? Black is the new clear.” In hindsight now, I don’t know why the fuck I laughed. He wasn’t that funny.
Anyway. We exchanged numbers after a few minutes of curbside talk and texted a few days before he asked if I wanted to try this bar in Oakland. We were sitting down and actually having a great time. Talking about being transplants, how the dating scene is so weird out here, and he joked about looking up now — I guess I was the reason. I laughed, and put my hand on his knee and all the other things I learned on Al Gore’s internet when in searched “how to flirt” because flirting for me was asking if they like Ja Rule, Soca, and once he made the first sexual innuendo (that I was down for), talking nasty in his inbox. And here I was having fun, well I assumed it was fun. He might have seemed less annoying and cuter that he actually was cause I was ovulating and I haven’t had sex in a while… *coughawhilehasbeenamonthpleasemindyourbusinbessandrespectmyprivacyduringthisdifficulttimecough*
Pause — Horny a different type of beast when your ovulating.
Un-pause — It seemed West Coast Sio was doing well. Until…
Him: I can’t believe someone as beautiful and smart and funny as you is single.
Me: Yeah. I’ve been enjoying life so I haven’t been pressed. If it happens, it happens. *shrug and takes sip of sangria*
Him: That’s usually the answers ugly girls give. Ha!
Me: ummmm… ha?
Him: Youuuuu know… those the things people who can’t get men say, and I know that’s not you…
Me: Oh you do?
Him: Yeah. For all I know, I’m you’re side nigga
Me: actually you’re my nothing nigga cause we on our first date. So humble yourself papa.
Him: Oh there is that Bronx coming out. LOL. So when’s the last time you been in a relationship Cardi B?
Pause- Being called Belcalis has never been an insult to me but at this point, anything his voice said now was making me more and more annoyed.
Me: 8 years.
It was the first time I’ve said it. It just turned 2019. January 26th 2019 made 8 years. I’ve officially been single as long as I was in that relationship. That engagement. I haven’t made the commitment to try my hardest to be a permanent and positive addition to a man’s life in 8 years. Of course I’ve dated, and been in some situationships. I fell in love again, twice (well, I think I was in love. I might still be trying to figure what that term means, but that’s another post). I wasn’t hurt. Those 8 years are a chore to remember. It’s to the point that sometimes I forget about him completely. I broke up with him. I haven’t spoke to him since March 2011. Haven’t seen him since a random day in 2012 where I saw him and his new girlfriend and their child together on 145th while I was driving. I was fine. My friend, however, tried to get out the car and fight the baby that we had recently found out he conceived while we were still together (again, another post). I don’t even react anymore. It’s not something that bothers me.
Until I said 8 years. I was jarred. That math ain’t mathing. Has it really been that long?
But it was right. Almost to the day. The Capricorn sun in me hid the emotions that hit me like Pacquiao, flawlessly. Unfortunately, he was a Gemini (chile… I know. I know), and didn’t possess the same couth.
And then he asked what was wrong with me? HE. ASKED. ME. WHAT. WAS.WRONG. WITH. ME. And I don’t know if it was him asking me, or the fact I was wondering the same thing that caused me to let my Cancer moon take the lead, but I couldn’t take it. I left.
I talk about insecurities in my writing regularly. Imposter syndrome with your work is one thing, but to feel like you’re pretending to be sure you are worthy of love, that’s fucking crippling. You think I know why I’m single? You think I wanna pay this rent by myself? You think I don’t want consistent sex and someone to pick what I’m eating for dinner? I’ve convinced myself that it’s because there men are unimpressive (which is very true) and I’m extremely picky like my friends say. I try to forget me crying as my old joint left my house after he told me he felt indifferent about me and us. I try to forget me sobbing to my “ex” (he said we were in a relationship but those details a likkle shaky so I’m not counting it) as I BEGGED him to stay with me after he told me he was going back to his girlfriend because she was just less work. I told him I would tone myself down for him. I’ve been told “she doesn’t hold a candle to you” and all I thought was NIGGA I DON’T GIVE A FUCK ABOUT NO CANDLES. I JUST WANT YOU. THE FUCK?!?
As I walked out, I felt a little bad because it wasn’t all his fault. He was a little obnoxious, but it was partially my sudden rush of emotion that made me leave half of a sangria on the table with him. Yes — I left liquor, I was that mad. But, he wasn’t the first, and he wouldn’t be the last. I get asked why I am single all the time. My friends and coworkers try to think of who they can “set me up with” regularly. At first I was insulted. They would literally just be like “what about *insert any black man over 6’2 because I like them tall. Why he need ALL his teeth?*”. Then I realized, they were doing it because they loved me so much and/or thought so highly of me they just wanted to see me “happy”, no matter the teeth count.
I kind of wished he came and got me as I waited for my Uber (mainly so I can finish my bong ass sangria — they added passion fruit!), but as Gerth (what?) pulled up in the blue Toyota Corolla, I got in and realized, this was the right (and dramatic) move. Nothing was wrong with me…
…Well, there are a few things wrong with me, but none of which are the reason I’m single…
And that he isn’t going to be the last person to ask that. That he could have had a little more finesse, but honestly, he wasn’t a carribean man from Brooklyn so eventually I would have gotten bored. I had to remember not to take anything personal, and that I could have been married already if that was my priority. I worked so hard to get to this life that I am at now. That I actually did make a conscious effort to focus on me and making myself better because and not looking for a relationship until I was on the level I wanted my partner to be on. I had to remember that people are going to piss me off, but that’s never a reason to question whether I am worthy of love and all the good things I want in life.
And most importantly, I had to remember there is never a reason to walk out on fire ass sangria.
xoxo,
Sio
