Relationships: January 2008 Archives

"On the kaleidoscope of love, people go 'round and 'round in circles.
Falling in love and feeling pain, but it's the player, not the game..."
-Lil' Mo
from the song "Player Not The Game"

It's all just a big motherfuckin' circle, life, the Earth, the universe, everything. From the dust we were formed and to the dust we will return, circle, circle, circle. Love is a circle too. Someone loves you and you love them right back and they love you back again. Isn't that a lovely circle? Some love circles however, aren't so lovely.

I know better than anyone that loving someone who doesn't love you back has to be the absolute worst emotional pain a person can feel. I know there are times where I've had my heart broken up so bad that it physically hurt. It was such a hopeless feeling and I knew that all the crying and pleading in the world wouldn't do a damn thing to help.

While were so deep in our own pains we never take the time to think of the pain that the one's who hurt us must be in. Surely, you don't believe that he is not in pain as well. Hurting people hurt people. As we pine over the ones we love so hopelessly we never take the time to ponder about the ones whom they pine over.

Yesterday I had the rare chance to have a real conversation with someone I used to be involved with. This was someone who I was ready to give my heart to but he wasn't ready to accept it. I wanted to be with him so badly, but he seemed to never have time for me. He'd be in my thoughts all the time but I wasn't in his. I could never say that he was vindictive about it, he never meant to hurt me, but at the time I guess he just wasn't that into me and that's not a crime, right? He was telling me about his feelings for his ex and how it's just off again, on again and how his ex never has time for him and that they're on the verge of getting back together but nothing's really changing and how it hurts him so.

As he was talking it occurred to me. While I was running after him he was running after someone else, no wonder he never had any time for me. While I sat at home alone at nights wondering how he could ever think someone could love him better than I could, this is the man he thought that could. Many of the things he said about his ex were statements right from my own lips about him. To hear them repeated to me with the same anguish and pain behind them was peculiar, odd, weird, yet comforting and life affirming, it was almost funny. Like, damn, I guess I'm not crazy.

Then I got to thinking about those who pine over me. While I was chasing him I could think of five other guys who were chasing me. Calling me, texting me, bothering me. I mean, sure they were there and I could have them if I wanted them but I didn't want them and I guess that's the same way he felt about me. I wanted him and he wanted his ex and the ex could quite possibly want something or someone else, who wants someone else, who wants someone else, who wants someone else and were all chasing each other around in a circle like idiots, wanting what we can't have. That's why I said in my "ADAM'S RELATIONSHIP THEORY" post a few months back that it's never good to even start running after a man. 'Cuz if you have to catch him, that's only because he's out tryna catch somebody else, so don't waste your time. If he really wants you he'll make himself available.

While I was putting him on this pedestal I never even realized that he could be doing the same thing for someone else. Wow. That's deep. How the mighty have fallen. That was such a revelation for me. All I know is that I'm not tryna get caught up in that circle again.

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Playing In The Background...
"Player Not the Game" feat. Carl Thomas
by Lil' Mo
from the album "Based On A True Story"
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Like Mama always says, first he'll leave his hat, then a pair of shoes, then an overcoat, next thing you know he done moved in. One thing this southern fried piece of colloquial wisdom fails to address is what's most often the first sign of a man's presence in our homes and quite possibly our hearts, the toothbrush. After a night of conversation, cuddling, or coitus he can easily leave in the clothes he wore from the night before to begin the day anew, but he ain't goin' but so far without brushing those teeth, at least I hope not. Romantic love can be fleeting and strikes at random, but morning breath remains a constant. So much so that I as well most singles I know keep a few spare toothbrushes around, you know, just in case.

Last night while preparing to take a take a shower, looking in the mirror, mercilessly critiquing myself, I looked to the right to notice that my silver mesh toothbrush cup runneth over with five toothbrushes. Five toothbrushes and only one belonging to me. Each cylindrical dowel of rubber and plastic crowned by an innumerable burst of synthetic fiber bristles, emblazoned with the name of some multi-million dollar dental care conglomerate, has it's own story to tell. Each one's owner having his place in my life, of varying degree and length, and possibly even in my heart.

Of the four guest toothbrushes only two of them I could connect to their owner. The unrecognizable pair I carelessly flung into the garbage pail, the other pair I pondered on for a moment. There was Pubby's toothbrush, an orange Colgate, a name brand, fancy, with all kinds of rubber lumps and bumps and grips, bristles cut on all sorts of angles, marketed as better than your standard toothbrush. It was a Colgate, it was a status symbol, it was fabulous, it was haute couture, sold individually and wouldn't dare be packaged with other brushes, perish the very thought. The other was Mr. Man's toothbrush, also orange, but of transparent plastic, good-intentioned, unpretentious, flat bristled and straight to the point. It's sole intent to remove tartar and to prevent plaque buildup and gingivitis. In an effort to shield it from germs it was the only toothbrush in the cup to have it's bristly crown almost hermetically wrapped with aluminum foil. Of all the brushes it was the only one who felt the need to be so guarded.

As I looked away from the pair of orange toothbrushes and back at myself in the mirror I questioned why I had held on to them for so long. Though Mr. Man and I are beyond amicable and are actually good friends now, he hadn't been here in months. Pubby and I are also over (no it's for real this time), we've agreed that we're so not right for each other. We'll be friends, we're just in that awkward limbo stage right now. Neither one of them I plan on having stay the night again. So why didn't I ever throw away their toothbrushes? Even though I'd physically let go was I subconsciously holding out for the chance of us sharing a night together again?

So with that I knew what had to be done. In order to officially move on I had to discard the last remnant of my past relationships, that last reminder of their preeminence in my life. So I lightly placed Mr. Man's toothbrush in my garbage pail and at a perpendicular angle I placed Pubby's toothbrush astride his, making the sign of the cross. Ashes to ashes, toothbrush to garbage pail, it is finished.

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Playing In The Background...
"Littlest Things"
by Lily Allen
from the album "Alright, Still"
and
"Best Of Me"
by Chrisette Michele
from the album "I Am"
and
"Just Like That"
by Kiley Dean
from the album "Simple Girl"
and
"Life Is Too Short"
by Mya
from the album "Liberation"
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I've noticed that my vision of what the perfect man for me is supposed to be is starting to change. In the beginning it was basically centered on looks, what I was attracted to. I always envisioned him to be a  petite bottom, with a fat ass, and a beautiful face. There was a time when that was all I dated, rarely deviating from the script. Along the way and along with the good I've encountered a few evil, petite, fat-assed, beautiful-faced, bottoms. It wasn't their physical attributes that made that few the evil, cold-hearted bitches they were. It was simply the fact that some bitches are just evil and once I was attracted to someone I rarely looked beyond the physical to discover who they really were and had established my feelings for them largely based on their looks. I was ready to jump right in without really seeking out the real them.

Sometimes when I happened to catch shades of their true personalities, I wasn't always happy with what I saw. Some would go as far as to warn me, telling me "Oh, Adam, you're so nice. You know, I'm really not a nice person like you are." I'd hear the warnings but I would never heed to them because they looked so right, it felt so right, or at least I thought it did, how could things ever be wrong? If I just love him with all I have and just give him all of me, everything will be okay, right? Wrong. And as you've read, things were wrong indeed. A lot of them either weren't ready for, or didn't know how to accept my affections or just really weren't that into me. The most evil of the lot saw my weakness and used it to play me. I should have known better. At the end of the day I can't even be mad, I'm not mad. It is what it is, lesson learned.

As of late I'm finding myself getting more and more into swagger with my aesthetic standards becoming less and less stringent. Confidence has become sexier too. It was always a plus but now it's a real turn on. A man who is sure of himself and is excelling in his field of work and/or interest is really hot to me. I'm also into realness. A man who can just keep it real with me from the beginning is very hot. No games, no pretenses. You wanna fuck nigga? Then let's fuck. You wanna eat nigga? Then let's eat. You wanna go nigga? Then let's go. You wanna stay nigga? Then let's stay. Do you like me? Yes or no. I like a man who tells me what's on his mind and doesn't expect me to know everything, like I'm Dionne Warwick or Ms. Cleo or somebody. 'Cuz Lord knows I have no problem expressing myself. And as much as I talk, and Lord knows I can talk, I enjoy a man that I could enjoy listening to as well, a man who stimulates both heads.

Now don't get me wrong. To a certain lesser degree, I still do uphold some of my aesthetic standards. I'm not gonna sit here and try to be on that looks-don't-matter, all-that-matters-is-the-heart bullshit. We all know that's bullshit and I have no problem telling people who say that bullshit that they're full of bullshit. I mean, we're men here, something's gotta get the dicks hard. There has to be some sort of physical attraction. I'm not tryna be with no ugly dude. So looks still matter somewhat, but I'm just not as anal about them and they don't hold the weight that they used to and as a result I've opened myself up to a whole lot more good guys (whoa, that last sentence so did not sound right). Rather than trying to find the perfect man for me I'm leaving myself open to the best man for me, whoever he may be.

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Playing In The Background...
"Doesn't Really matter"
by Janet Jackson
from the album "All For You"
and
"Why You Gotta Look So Good?" feat. Lloyd Banks
by Mya
from the album "Moodring"
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