Square One
Growing up was hard in my family. I don’t think there was ever intense fighting between my parents or hitting or anything of that nature. However, my mom was in and out of the hospital constantly, my dad was away on business and occasionally hospitalized (both of my parents have serious medical ailments). Then every three years or so, we would move. There were few constants in our lives, but saying goodbye and adapting to the environment were two of them. I grew up with this intense awareness of the possibility of sudden entrances and exits.
And it still affects my life now. I hate surprises. I hold my breath when I walk into hospitals. I say “see you soon,” because I hate the words “good bye.” And I look at everyone like it’s the last time I will see them for a very long time-just in case.
So, when things are okay, I get nervous. When things go my way, I tread lightly and brace myself for the fall. Maybe it is self-sabotage, to sleep with one eye open and to assume the worst is going to happen, but I tend to believe what I have experienced prior. My experiences have always been that things go really well, and then like a roller coaster, an invisible force grabs the bottom of your stomach and stretches it down. Now that I’m older, I tend not to get too bummed when bad things happen. I try to stay positive, because as awful as the day gets, it makes the good days better. I’m confident in myself for the most part until it comes to the opposite sex.
While usually things start to get better in the rest of life, I have found that I have a very peculiar taste in men-I like men who treat me like shit. No, I have never been hit, because I would deliver a knuckle sandwich to anyone who hit me. I tend to be attracted to men who basically use me then ignore me. There are two men in particular that I bared my soul to, spent endless hours with, and in the end, received nothing but lies, backstabbing, and awful deeds. I loved both of them in different ways and in my older age, I know that while I did not handle the relationships in the most delicate manner, both handled it worse. I will be honest and say I miss B every day. He was my first love and he was my best friend and I know I will always have a tiny part of me that wants to hear his voice one last time.
Since then becoming friends with boys has been trouble for me. I tend not to trust them, and my first instinct is to lie and put this guard up. I don’t want them to know the real me and see this scared stupid, little girl underneath a STRONG BLACK WOMAN exterior. It’s easy for a relationship to crumble and blame it on a fake version of yourself.
When I moved here, I knew my views on sex and relationships had to change though. My inability to trust men is big. The first thing I did was to vow to be better friends with guys. I definitely hang with more men and talk to more men on a regular basis. Additionally, I became good friends with Jessie’s roommate, Carl. It’s helped a lot. For example, I’ve kissed a few more boys than I normally would.
Then I was introduced to this guy, P. My initial thought was how hard he laughed at my stupid stories. We started talking casually and then every day. One day he mentioned another girl and my stomach dropped to my knees. It sucked. So I kissed him and he kissed back.
We lay next to each other at night and maybe it’s because we are in the very early parts of a relationship where there is little to lose and so much to gain but he asks for just one more kiss before we fall asleep, he reaches for me and I give into his warmth and there is not one other place I would rather be.
For some reason, this scares me shitless. Despite the fact I tell him dumb stories and he has seen me gross and unshowered and he still calls me “beautiful” and “pretty”, I feel like it is only a matter of time before he stops calling and texting, because he will meet a girl who has her shit together, who is more clever, and who isn’t somewhat terrible to other people or maybe he’ll just see through the cracks and see what a fucking nut I am and this, whatever we have, will be done and I will be back at square one.
I'm still walking on pins and needles and keeping one eye open at night, because I still feel like I'm minutes away from receiving that e-mail, "I want to stop seeing you." I hope that one day I'll realize that sometimes things just go right and there is no other shoe to drop, but based on history, I find this hard to swallow fully.
And it still affects my life now. I hate surprises. I hold my breath when I walk into hospitals. I say “see you soon,” because I hate the words “good bye.” And I look at everyone like it’s the last time I will see them for a very long time-just in case.
So, when things are okay, I get nervous. When things go my way, I tread lightly and brace myself for the fall. Maybe it is self-sabotage, to sleep with one eye open and to assume the worst is going to happen, but I tend to believe what I have experienced prior. My experiences have always been that things go really well, and then like a roller coaster, an invisible force grabs the bottom of your stomach and stretches it down. Now that I’m older, I tend not to get too bummed when bad things happen. I try to stay positive, because as awful as the day gets, it makes the good days better. I’m confident in myself for the most part until it comes to the opposite sex.
While usually things start to get better in the rest of life, I have found that I have a very peculiar taste in men-I like men who treat me like shit. No, I have never been hit, because I would deliver a knuckle sandwich to anyone who hit me. I tend to be attracted to men who basically use me then ignore me. There are two men in particular that I bared my soul to, spent endless hours with, and in the end, received nothing but lies, backstabbing, and awful deeds. I loved both of them in different ways and in my older age, I know that while I did not handle the relationships in the most delicate manner, both handled it worse. I will be honest and say I miss B every day. He was my first love and he was my best friend and I know I will always have a tiny part of me that wants to hear his voice one last time.
Since then becoming friends with boys has been trouble for me. I tend not to trust them, and my first instinct is to lie and put this guard up. I don’t want them to know the real me and see this scared stupid, little girl underneath a STRONG BLACK WOMAN exterior. It’s easy for a relationship to crumble and blame it on a fake version of yourself.
When I moved here, I knew my views on sex and relationships had to change though. My inability to trust men is big. The first thing I did was to vow to be better friends with guys. I definitely hang with more men and talk to more men on a regular basis. Additionally, I became good friends with Jessie’s roommate, Carl. It’s helped a lot. For example, I’ve kissed a few more boys than I normally would.
Then I was introduced to this guy, P. My initial thought was how hard he laughed at my stupid stories. We started talking casually and then every day. One day he mentioned another girl and my stomach dropped to my knees. It sucked. So I kissed him and he kissed back.
We lay next to each other at night and maybe it’s because we are in the very early parts of a relationship where there is little to lose and so much to gain but he asks for just one more kiss before we fall asleep, he reaches for me and I give into his warmth and there is not one other place I would rather be.
For some reason, this scares me shitless. Despite the fact I tell him dumb stories and he has seen me gross and unshowered and he still calls me “beautiful” and “pretty”, I feel like it is only a matter of time before he stops calling and texting, because he will meet a girl who has her shit together, who is more clever, and who isn’t somewhat terrible to other people or maybe he’ll just see through the cracks and see what a fucking nut I am and this, whatever we have, will be done and I will be back at square one.
I'm still walking on pins and needles and keeping one eye open at night, because I still feel like I'm minutes away from receiving that e-mail, "I want to stop seeing you." I hope that one day I'll realize that sometimes things just go right and there is no other shoe to drop, but based on history, I find this hard to swallow fully.