Too easy to please…

I was on cloud 9 after my visit to Lamar’s, we didn’t have sex and he showed great discipline and it made me like him more. I returned home to work and eventually online classes, although the mash up proved to be time consuming I still thought of Lamar often. That was my boo how could I not, even with distance and no title I was committed to him because he seemed to be worthy. A man that checked on me, made me feel safe, made me smile, listened carefully and understood what I wanted. Making sure to slip in little sidebars on the things he heard me say, just so I’d know he was listening. I literally danced when he came home from working all day. He was obviously fine as ever, body like a demigod and loved family. Talked about how he and I could be soulmates, kept notes I wrote him… yea I thought he was worth something.

We had about 14 days between our next visit and I assumed things would fly by. For the first few days the time went so slow, the days dragged like a heavy sack of laundry up three flights of stairs in the summer. Partially because unlike before Lamar wasn’t making multiple calls to talk to me or “just see my face” like he used to. For a bit I told myself, “let him get accustomed to his work schedule since he added a new gig.” I mean I had seen how busy Lamar was on my visit, seeing me only in the morning and upon returning home. He would return attempt to chat with me and pass out shortly after. I could tell in my visit that all his calling and reaching out were a great sacrifice. It made me appreciate him so much more, the guy I had grown infatuated with was sacrificing his time for me, without reminding me or wanting a reward. 

As I think about it now I can remember how much his consistency and consideration made me want to suck the soul out of him. That’s how grateful and pleased his efforts made me, to have other men that were detrimental to my self esteem that caused me to trust less and leave more. I just wanted to be great for him, as great as he was to me. 

I mean things were bound to change I guess…nothing good last forever right?  I called him and his voice sound like a smokers, he was so exhausted. Harsh, low, weak and defeated his words slowly passing through my ears. -Awe my babe is really tired. I thought as I held the phone. “Just wanted to know if you got your ticket for Friday?”, “Yea, I booked it.” That was all the confirmation I needed at the time, after seeing how hard he worked and hearing him so tired I was passive in my efforts to speak to the guy that made me smile from state to state. I wanted him to rest up, have the limited time he could to himself I’d see him soon enough. 

There was one time I panicked we hadn’t spoken in 36 hours and before I could get upset he read my mind (like I was accustomed to him doing at this point.) 

“Hey I’ve been so busy, what are you up to?”

I responded with no reply. It was odd but at least he reached out. I mean I understood now just how busy he was. However after that one day became two, two became three and up came the fourth day, is he ok? Did we really just go this long without speaking? 

I was shocked I did so well giving him his space, but I was even more shocked that he allowed me the same. I reached out the night before no answer, the next morning no answer… was he really THIS busy? Is ANYONE this busy!? After thinking of our days together I had no great feeling he was uninterested, but this was day four. He obviously had a sliver of time to at least text, “hey sunshine thinking about you.” Or to FaceTime me a few seconds “Just to see my face”. But those messages and calls never came, was I wrong to expect this? He had me accustomed to this behavior and now? I couldn’t get a fart in the wind. Was I going to watch my phone hoping every text and phone call I received would read 🖤KING🖤, a name I obviously gave him prematurely. 

My mind told me to cut my losses, my heart… well she wasn’t available for comment. I texted him, 

“Hey idk what’s going on, maybe you don’t feel the same after my visit. I’m going to move around. Lauren”

Almost instantly 

“Nah, I’m just super busy.”

“All in due time.” 

There it was, that smile he gave me. I was happy but I was pissed. I felt neglected but I was trying to be understanding… I was trying to be the support he needed and not greet him with nagging and stress. I told myself to leave him be, you aren’t his lady just give him his time and enjoy him when he comes to town. The next day I texted a kiss and continued my day. 

I thought it’d be cute if I showed him that even in my absence I thought of him, by creating a countdown video. Every day that passed every city I went to I had my crew take a picture. With each picture each day I grew more excited. I got to see my man shortly and I just knew it would be amazing!

Friends and I began to prepare for his visit, they called me, probing for answers on what we’d do, how I felt, what I’d wear. Although I was excited in the back of my mind I knew things weren’t the same. It was obvious really, so much so I started lying to my girls. This was rare for me, I was the career third wheel and like my friends I assumed Lamar was the answer to my singleness. I was accepting things I shouldn’t. Not the busy schedule he held but the lack of effort he was giving. I felt things would be better when he came in town, I’d help him relax from work and love on him the best way I could. 

Then came Tuesday, 

“Hey what time are you picking up Lamar from the airport? I was thinking breakfast before you go…”

My friend Krystle had text, she knew the most of me and Lamar and wanted to calm my nerves about things. 

“I don’t know let me ask, hold on…”

That’s when it hit me, I went to our text to text him and ask when he was landing. I hadn’t spoken to him since last Tuesday. It had been SEVEN days since he said anything to me. Embarrassed and hurt I told Krystle, I had to be honest because she wouldn’t judge. 

“Uh, I think he isn’t coming. We haven’t spoke in seven days.”

“WHAT DID YOU SAY SEVEN! Did y’all argue? Did something happen?” 

“I don’t know. I mean no… I don’t know what’s going on”

“Call him! Stop being so passive what if something happened and he needs you!”

I think we had all fallen a little for Lamar all my friends loved him and didn’t know him, but with that we all let down a guard that allowed us all to make excuses. I called and texted, the next morning there was no response. However the next morning was different, it was my birthday. I called him again, -just answer and give me a time babe please. I thought as the phone rang… no answer. I headed to work and hoped he was just in a meeting. 

I knew better maybe I knew when I flew away from his city that things were done from there, maybe I wrote it off as the past hurt just trying to keep me from happiness. I drove to work with tears in my eyes. Krystle called me, I hid my crying voice and told her everything was fine and I’d call her later about breakfast.

All day I replied to text, answered calls and tried to receive the love from friends and family on my birthday. However nothing came from him, I later told myself he’ll call at like 6 or 8 like usual. I mean at that point I blatantly texted him and gave him a spill on how I was confused and hopeful but hurting by his silence. I felt honesty would be appreciated and received well, I was wrong. No response.

The day went and worsened by the minute, I cried and I cried often. Totaling about four times. I later got around family and tried to mask my feelings. I called him again my birthday was coming to an end….

As the phone rang I received a text:

“Talking to moms, I’ll call you back.”

There was no smile, there were no butterflies, there was nothing. I felt defeated, although I had a child like hope he’d call I knew he wouldn’t. I trusted him until the last minute, two hours had passed. His mother knew of me, we spoke, to his admission she asked about me… frequently. So why am I waiting around two hours for him to call me? 

That was it, I couldn’t lie to myself anymore. I sent him the video and gave him a piece of my mind. Deleted his photos, his name and lastly his calls and texts. I had to or I’d fold and call him the next day, he hurt me but I was still hopeful for a minute. 

As I tried to smooth over my wounds and sleep I thought; I couldn’t put my needs aside anymore I was crushed, devastated. What did I do? What changed? He wasn’t different like my friends proclaimed to me, he wasn’t what I had been deserving after my being happy for them and waiting. He wasn’t the reason I had to go through such pain… he was the cherry on the top of that pain sundae. How could I be so easily fooled so easily drawn in? 

He was fine but a lot of men were.

He was nice but nice don’t give you the feels.

He was my muse, I didn’t love him but I wanted to be down for him. I wanted to be great to him, he was going to be my homie, lover and friend, my plus one. My main support system at my third graduation.  

And that was the problem, I was more convincing than he was… 

I was too easy…

To Be a Black Girl Like Me

To be a black girl like me, 

Is to be free.

Sprinkling that shine, that strut and glitter…

Swaying my body when I walk, showing all my fronts when I talk…

To be a black girl like me,

Is to have that black girl magic I share with everyone! 

To have no hesitation of pride in my presentation…

To be a black girl like me,

Is to be proud of how my ancestors mash’up to create me, so how dare I look in the mirror and say I hate me? 

Through a slave trade I’m sure either great love or terrible pain was endured to create one that would later bare another to create my mothers, mother. 

A white man we can call Tom joined with a Native American woman named Mariah, to create a mothers mother that would bare my father. 

To be a black girl like me, 

A mixture of features that I myself barely understand… with this coily hair the color of sand. 

These ears and a nose fit for a King, for which children used to utter mean things. The thing that most ties me to my father… to hate myself for that? Life’s already too hard, why bother.

To be a black girl like me,

Is to have skin pale in the winter, then the summer it’s painted a red so deep you’d think I was the sinner of the week. 

Blemish free, soft like a worn out cotton tee. 

Why on earth would I hate me…?

To be a black girl like me,

Is to have a Face outlined in natural blonde hairs, with eyebrows that used to be scarce…

At 26 I hold full brown eyes betwixt my ears, my shape like my eyes I gathered from my mother. 

You’d think I wanted to be her…as I flip through pictures of myself I always see her.

To be a black girl like me,

Means sass, class and bravery for to be a black girl can be difficult. See we aren’t all bonded together like a religious cult. 

For our history has separated us, from house niggers to field niggers, to being relocated to the back of the bus, now presently theirs no common sisterhood no trust…

Who understands me better than her? The girl with skin like mine and hair that reaches toward the sun as mine does. The girl I don’t have to inform what it is or what it was…

No one, that’s who. Trying to replace her with Becky is no equal… constantly explaining to her what she can and can’t do. Why I’m not her nigga and why I won’t partake in a customary “Biiiihhh guess what”, simply because Becky you’re not Brenda like what the fuck! 

To be a black girl like me,

Is the only way to be… and that includes loving my fellow sista unconditionally. 

Because even though she may stare and glare, that’s customary “girl I love you!!” Is deep down in there.