The Freakin Weekend Part 3: Sufficient in Solitude.

He got me out my momma crib.  Then he helped me get my momma a crib. 

- Kanye West, "Big Brother."

     I can go a while without getting lonely. But eventually it kicks in again. To be honest, there was a point when I tried to fill the voids in my heart -- rather ignore because my methods for fulfillment didn't work and masked the issue instead. I would be more inclined to call men for comfort than to call people who really loved me... and I know this is going to sound super corny, but when I get lonely now, I call my mother. 

     I hated my mother for a really long time. Some people hate to hear me say that. And while I'd love to lie and say I always loved her, I'd be lying. It's far too much to explain here, but I had my reasons. Mostly because I didn't quite see my mother as my mother until I was good and off to college. The periods when I hated my mother were the points when I almost succeed at destroying myself. I willingly gave myself to men who didn't deserve me. I found myself losing myself. After having lost so much more than myself, I see the true value of things now.

    I loved my friends more than I loved my family. That's because I had my friends when I didn't have my family. But luckily I had my family there as guardrails to make sure I didn't fall into the gutter. And that's how I've made it this far. I know that's a vague synopsis, but I can truly only say so much. What I will say though is that there are times when I sit alone and thank my brother for how far I've gotten. Sometimes, I even consider kneeling on the cheetah print rug beside my bed and praying to gods I don't believe in. All of them. In case one exists and not the other. I'm not ready to put all my chips in one basket just yet. 

  This Sunday, I sat in my room alone and for the first time in a while, I noticed that I was alone. I mean, Sundays are the loneliest days of the week when you're single. My roommate was in his part of the apartment cheffing up vegetables for a girl who has been there almost 4 days now (I say has cuz she was there when I woke up Sunday and was there when left this morning & it's Wednesday.) I typically try to stay away from couples... as if I might catch something. I mean, there's nothing worse than being around love when you aren't in it. It's both nauseating and envy inviting. I want part of neither feeling. As I sat in bed (comfortable as hell) I looked around and realized I had no one. No one to come lay with me. No one to hold me. No one to tell me they love me, and that's what I miss the most. I think that's what trips women up the most. You just want to be loved even if it's a lie. You feel like you have something when someone is saying that to you. Like you finally mean something. 

    I keep a picture of my brother on my nightstand. The one above. It's a terrible picture, isn't it? And really he's only half-way in it. I'm the focal point. I had to have been maybe two years old and it was the time frame when my mom had cut all my hair off because I wouldn't let anyone comb it. (Later on in life, when I would cry while getting my hair done, my mom would call my brother into the room, "ENVER!" and I would sit and sniffle the boogers into my mouth while I held back tears. Meanwhile  my mom yanked and Enver towered over me with his arms crossed.) But no matter how much of a homeless little boy I look like in that photo, I can't get passed the smile on my brother's face. & the fact that the picture was taken in the back seat of the red '88 Cavalier we had. I don't ever remember him being in the back seat with me although I remember countless times getting kicked out the front. There's a little sister thing about my big brother being in the back seat with me that reassures me that the didn't hate me. He might have even liked me.  So that's why I'm positing it here. Because it means too much to me to care about what I look like. Besides, when you Google pictures of siblings, it's two white kids or two black kids and my fmaily is a healthy mix of skin tones. We like versatility. & PLEASEE tell me this pic isn't sooooooo 80s its fuckin beyond awesome. Y'all know I love the 80s. All two years I lived it lol ;)

     If you haven't noticed yet, I couldn't love me mother because I had willingly given all my love to my brother. After  my brother passed, my mother asked me, "Did you love Enver more than you loved me?" Very plainly I answered her, "Yes, I did." Now you might think that was harsh, but I don't think it hurt her at all. I think she knew the whole time. Truth be told, I think we all loved my brother more than we loved each other. He was the man in our lives. (Except for my sister, I guess --but I don't doubt she feels the same to some degree.)

      He reminds me of what's important. He's the only person who could ever keep me grounded. If it wasn't for him, I'd have been running around like the rest of them out there.  I remember that some random man can never fulfill me. That having a man in my bed means nothing for me and even worse for him. I keep the picture there to make sure I make a conscious decision if and when a man ever sees my bed. I remember how good I have it. Fully employed and inevitably moving forward. I remember that one day, I'm gon' by my momma a house, even if I don't have one for myself yet. I remembered that I deserved everything I was sitting around staring at. Even the bright city lights shining outside my window.
    
      He's the reason for me. The reason why, even though I have a post called One Night Stands, it's not what you think. The reason why in Birds of a Feather, I claimed my place as eagle and soared alone. It's hard to be alone. To see people posting up pictures of themselves and significant others all happy in love. I want to be bitter. I want to play the "she aint even all that" game, but I can't bring myself. The key to being alone and being ahppy is to find love elsewhere. Look for love in the places they will never falter. In people you never have to question. Those who truly never have to say it. Like I said, I call my mother. Call me what you want. I'm my mommy's little girl & damned proud of it. 

      It's not that I don't need no man, it's that I don't need no man, right now. I'm not going to lie and say I wouldn't like the company. That I don't want to date. That I don't want to get married had have children one day. It's just that... that day ain't today. So even while I'm excited about future possibilities, It don't mean nothing to me. I already have a man in my life: My big brother.

And now... as I get ready to leave work, I can't wait to go home to my empty bed & my book of Homeric poems :) Cuz I'm the one payin rent in that muthafucka!!!!  whoop whooooopp!! lol

The One That Got Away.

        Some people the call me crazy for falling in love with you. They can take me and lock me away, Baby. Cuz there's nothing those bars can do. I'll  be the rising moon after the setting sun. Just to let you know you'll have someone. I'll be the clearest day when the rain is done so you'll always know. Through the shake of an earthquake I will never fall. That's how strong my love is. 

Alicia Keys- That's How Strong My Love Is. 

I still think about him. 

       I can't stop myself from comparing every guy I come across to him. When I think about the kind of guy I'm looking for, I've... honestly.. and literally just said, " I want _______." My friends will know who I'm talking about. Others will guess. Most will have no idea, and some might think I'm talking about them. But I'm pretty sure _______ doesn't read this. I mean, we aren't Facebook friends. We aren't friends at all.  I wouldn't say that we're enemies, but there is so much nothing between us. At least on my end. 

      He fit the mold. He was what I wanted. Even his imperfections were ones I thought were absolutely flawless. The funny thing about it all is... I barely knew him. & He barely knew me. But there was something about laying in his arms that was absolutely incredible. I shivered at his touch. I yearned for his kiss. Even the silence with him was perfect. But it must have all been one-sided. He probably doesn't think of me. I was probably nothing to him. I replay the times we spent together and can't help but to wince thinking  about the should haves, would haves.... could haves... I just don't know what happened. I don't know where things went wrong... but I'm kind of glad they did. 

          I don't think we would have lasted. If we went full force into what we might be meant to be, we'd have ended up crashing. I don't think I'm what he's looking for right now. But I know that I will be eventually. He's the only man I've met in so long that actually deserved my respect. And as much as I might talk about taking men for their money... I wanted nothing from him. I'd have given him my every cent. There's something about his heart.

       I think he knows how to love. 

      And that's what attracted me to him the most. I felt like if I were to give him my all, he would return it ten-fold. I've never met a man like that. I come across dozens of liars day-by-day whose only concern is to get me into bed. When I let _______ into my bed, he lay with me and needed nothing more... There was always that thought of, Will he stay around? that crowded my mind the entire time I was involved with him. And he did. For a while.  But somehow there was... and is... a part of me that would give him everything. I'd..... love him? I know that sound bizarre, but until you come across a man who truly deserves love... you might not understand. A man like that makes you want to be a woman. A man who is respected by his friends, loved by his family, and confident in himself. A man who doesn't need you. A man who is wanted by all. If a man like that chooses you, you do what you can. I've only really (honestly & openly) talked about him to one person, Katelynn. Because I knew she would just... listen. I needed to talk to someone who would listen. "Hold onto him," she said. "I'm trying..." was all I could say. 

      And there's nothing special I can tell you about him. I can't tell you about the fancy things he wears of buys or what he has because... I never truly paid attention. I just wanted to be around him. I wanted to know how his day was going. We didn't have too many in depth conversations but all I wanted was to know him. We didn't have the chance nor the opportunity to move further. To build. To make up for petty arguments. To put the past aside. To give things a chance. We didn't even talk about those things. We talked... but mostly, I was overwhelmed with his presence. And that rarely happens. 

       Because I felt like he was a good man, it made me a better woman. He might not be aware of it, but he changed me. I wanted to be the woman he wanted. That he needed. There are things you can notice about a man behind closed doors. Simply by their demeanor and more so the look in their eyes. He needed love (for more reasons than I can explain here). I knew he just needed someone to care about him. To make him feel like he was worth it. To be on someone's mind. Truthfully, there was probably someone else on him mind the entire time he and I were involved, but I didn't care. I knew he was hurting and all I wanted to do was make him...feel good. And not sexually as most women think we have to please men, but emotionally. Simply by being there. I wanted to be there for him. He rarely told me what was on his mind... but I wanted to know. I wanted to know what hurt him. What plagued him. What concerned him. I wanted to know the workings of his mind. I wanted to be the one he could talk to. I wanted to know what he was feeling. How he was doing. I never asked where he was or what he was doing... I didn't want to know any of that. I care about him. Not whoever was chasing after him. And I think that's what allowed us to last as long as we did, with the circumstances we encountered. I really just wanted to know he was doing alright... and that he had thought of me. I've never gotten a "Good Morning beautiful" text message that made me smile more than his. Everyday I wish he would send me just one more. 

      Maybe I got caught up. Maybe I'm making it out to be more than it actually was. I mean, it's really possible... But I really hope not. I really hope not. Part of the reason I don't involve myself with these men out here is because they're broke... the other part is because I really only want ________.  If he didn't or doesn't  feel the same about me, that's perfectly fine. I'm adult enough to know a lost cause and I won't spend a lifetime (or even a second) chasing him. But I know that it would be amazing if we could pick this up 5 years from now. When he realizes there aren't many real women out there.  When he remembers me. When I'll be in a place to show him I'm a woman and he'll be able to show me that he's a man. For now, we're just kids. Text messaging and AIM conversations. There's nothing much for us to do. I don't even want to speak to him until we're in a place to take it further. 

           Until then, I still play this pretend game and hold onto his pretend heart. Because if he ever does come calling, I'll be ready. If he doesn't, I'll be perfectly fine. For now I'll say I want _______, until one day when I find someone better. Until then, he's The One That Got Away from my "The Four Men; A Religion of Love" post. 

Someday. 

         

You Gotta Pay to Play.

 Standing on my monopoly board. That means I'm on top of my game. Eminem, "No Love"

       "You only think this food is good because it's expensive," he said from across the table. He was half upset that I picked this place out for our Valentine's day dinner. I'd made it a point to get a good dinner out of him since he was so bent on being cheap. When I was with him I pretty much had to "save up" my points and prove I deserved to be taken out to dinner. Special occasions and holidays. He was more like a stingy parent than a boyfriend.

       So I decided that if he was going to act like a parent, I was going to treat him like one. You know how you buy the affordable stuff for yourself, but you ask your parents for the things you can't afford? Especially while you're in college. Normal college kids don't go out to eat or eat a full, nutritional meal until your parents come to visit for Parent's Day Weekend. If you're not familiar with Parent's Day Weekend, it's like Thanksgiving in college --food and family-- except you don't have to go home. If you're a female, you have a second source for meals: Men. I made us reservations at Mama's on the Half Shell. They don't have a website, but if you click that link, you'll see that this place is top rated. I mean, top 10 at times because the food is that good.  It's really not that expensive though. I mean... my meal always is because I'm the type of girl who orders a steak, medium well with lobster tail on top. Plus an appetizer. And a drink. And a juice. And a desert. And the place isn't fancy. There's a hardcore bar with flat screens that play nothing but  ESPN  and art littering the wall. No need to dress up for this place.  But the food really is good. They have these potatoes skins with lump crab and cheese on top. If you can have these on the regular, you don't need sex. Honestly.

         In New York City, price matters more than anything else. You really do get what you pay for even if the prices are outrageous. IT's just that, here, "cheap" has a different definition than it does anywhere else. The first way you learn this fact about The Big Apple is when you take on the task of looking for places. Simply put, THE RENT IS TOO DAMNED HIGH. You have to be blessed to find a studio in the city for under $1000. Those who know me, know I'm fond of the word "thousand", but I'm not quite prepared to pay that in rent. For $1180 a month (heat, hot water & electric included) I can get this view:

       Now isn't that worth it? It's not the greatest angle... and that's not my real apartment so, feel free to judge. But I'm not from here. They say flashing lights ain't for everybody... but they're for somebody. I'm not going to lie, I'm just excited to be here. In this city. Where I can listing to Hot 97 at any given moment and the subway (as dirty as it might be) will take me anywhere my heart desires. Sometimes, it feels like I'm bragging about it but... it's only because already feel like "Mama, I made it." I'm not going to get a head of my self, and believe me, this place isn't anything fancy and I'm certainly not a baller. It's in Harlem. 145th & Lenox. Not the greatest area. But there's something about moving to New York that seems like the beginning of a really good movie (I wonder which one...wink wink!).

      Thing is, where I'm from, nobody leaves. I remember I was in the 8th grade and had just been accepted to Moses Brown School --the best worst thing that ever happened to me. I was sitting in Geography/History class (you know a school system is broken when you have to combine courses) when this lady (she was an aid for the handicapped kid in our class) asked me why I was going to Moses Brown instead of Central Falls High School. "I went there," she said. All one really needs to do it click those links to see why I'd chose a leading private school over a failing public school to see why. When she asked me why though all that went through my mind was, "I don't want to be like you." Let me just say there are some Central Falls High graduates who are doing/will do much better than I am. But there are a small selection. My own sister is one of those people. But it takes a certain type of personal and relentless vigor to push yourself through a system like that and I'm sure the select few will agree with that. I didn't have that in me. I couldn't push the school. I needed my school to push me.

      My education has made me more valuable. Technically, I've been paying college tuition for the past 8 years.  I've cost $27,000 a year from 2002-2006 and $38,000 (plus $9,600 room & board) from 2006-2010.  I mean, I'm worth $298,400 at least. I just had lunch with my cousin and as I replayed all the things I was saying to myself... I sound like a pure bred gold-digger. But are Louis Vuitton pumps golddiggers? I mean, this LV wedge boot won't quit staring at me and saying $1,230. I don't do that. Or do I? Well I don't huff and puff at the price tags on certain things because I know that the quality of the product will be better. The better a product is made, the more the company has to charge you in order to cover costs. The more they charge you, the better the product because, now, the customer has a right to complain. Listen, I'll be god-damned the leather starts to peel on some LV pumps & don't let them hurt my little toe.  

      I'm worth the expense, too. There's been a lot of time and money put into this product (Ahem! ME!). For all the work I've been into myself, companies will get a solid worker with experience and capability. Likewise a man will at least get a highly educated woman who is doing well for herself. At least he won't have to take care of me (unless he wants to). But the same way you need to get your shoes shined and you purse cleaned everyone once in a while. Or how a car needs a tune up and a wax job. I'm also in need of maintenance. I at least need my hair and nails did. I think man should be willing to do that. I tried to get my ex (same dude mentioned above) to kick in for the hair expenses. "If you look like this, I'll pay for you to get your hair done every month," he said with fingers in my hair. I had just gotten my hair blow out by (the very rare) Dominicans in Baltimore. I won't front, he kicked in to get my hair done after that... ONCE. What happens when you stop getting your oil changed? When you stop shining those shoes? When you don't rotate the tires? When you keep your purse on the floor? You ruin the product. You didn't maintain. Your car blows up. Your purse falls apart. Your girl leaves you. 

      "You gotta just do you," my cousin said to me today. "Man, I'm trying marry me a Giants player," I responded. I alway pick the local team to make my gold-diggeing seem a little more feasible. In Baltimore I wanted a Raven, while in Rhode Island I just wanted to leave the state because we have real no team of our own.) But I'm not focused on men. I assured my cousin of that as I tried to assure myself. I'll admit, I get lonely in this big city. And I really just want someone to take me out to see the flashing lights. Have you ever watched fireworks alone? I have. There's nothing more solitary in the world. There's not a single action that can make you realize how alone you are more than to watch explosions in the sky when your heart is barely beating. 

      You might all read these posts and think I'm cold hearted. Part of me is. Like I said today, I have no remorse. I will spend ALL of a man's money if he lets me. Because his heart and his money shouldn't be the same thing. The this is with "Him" is that he allows me to play with his money but somehow doesn't let me play him. I like that. Because money is nothing and everything all in the same breath. If a man won't share his money, will he share his heart? And how much of his heart is on the table if he can't even put up the starting bid? 

      I'm looking for high-rollers, baby. Men who understand the stakes and know that bets at this table are approaching commas. No one holding a winning hand should be afraid to go all in. I don't barter with bluffers. That's why I've raised the stakes and uped the ante. He's got to either call or raise. But I always raise. Either a man has enough chips to bet. Or he doesn't. There is no in between.  If a man is unwilling to put up and invest, you might want to rethink being his partner. He might have a losing  hand. 

We all play games. My game is just better. 

    

Dear Diary, I'm Scared of Lonely.

       I'm scared of lonely. I'm scared of being the only shadow I see along the wall. And I'm scared the only heartbeat I'll hear beating is my own. - Beyonce, "Scared of Lonely"

      I haven't written in quite some time. I could be because I just got my new phone, the Samsung Vibrant (T-Mobile's knockoff iPhone, because I'm #TeamIphone, but not #TeamAT&T) and have been trying to figure out how to use it. It could be because work is kicking my ass, not because of the hour, but because I don't know what "enough" money is and I feel really Chapelle, but...WTF is rent? Maybe I can't write because I might've lost one of my best friends this week and everything in me wants to talk about it, but that would be futile and honestly, a bit to personal --even for me. 

     A very cool blogger (writer of "Sex Made Me Do It") asked if this blog was more of a diary than a "blog" and honestly, I don't know. In my opinion, all writing should be personal. And after thinking about it, yes, these blogs are long, but I'm not going to stop until I complete my thought. I encourage my readers to read... even skim. You can stop when you'd like. On EllaThought, there's no writing or reading limitations. If you'd like to dedicate the 5 minutes it takes to read this, much appreciated. If not, your page view had still been recorded in my stats. Thnx ;)  --Just FYI, there is never any real point to my writing... this is just what happens when my heart connects to my mind, my mind to my fingers, my fingers to my laptop and my laptop to this blog. It's simply the connection I have with words. It's simply what happens.

        Today is about me. With so much on my mind, I just need to write (about something else)... please bear with me. I can't think about the reader today or what you all might think or what you want to read and what I should write... I need my heart to pour from these pores and onto the keyboard because I can feel a buildup inside of me.

 So here it goes:

        FACT: I am at the greatest, lowest point I have ever been in my life. I landed a job plenty people would kill for --this is by no means a complaint, I LOVE my job --but my job is all I have. I wake up every morning excited about what to wear. Work is a personal fashion show that I gladly take part in. I take the train to work and read a book during my 45 minute commute. I just finished The Summer Fletcher Greel Loved Me by Suzanne Kingsbury, about a beautiful summer love that ends in despair. I get to work, I turn on my computer and answer emails. I make a coffee and eat my cereal... and answer more emails. That's it. Well.... there's more to it, but that's the low down. After work, I get back on the train, and go home to my sister's house.

     I typically write with a very "fuck niggas" persona but truly its the complete opposite.... I'm lonely. I want love. Real love. *Cue Mary J* I don't aim to take part in pointless conversation or entertain men that show no potential... and I wonder if this is holding me back. Am I being too picky? Am I moving too slow? At this point I am damned near celibate and the physical yearnings --while they are there -- aren't my biggest issue. 

      Can you really hold onto a man without sleeping with him? I'm not naive, I know that all men --ALL MEN-- are looking for sexual satisfaction, but I've adopted the idea that if he wants sex, he can get it somewhere else. As long as I don't know about it of course. I can't expect a man to be faithful to me when I'm not giving him something that is probably near, if not at, the very top of his list. But I also know that I'm not the only tail he's chasing. I may be the best, but not the only. Never the only. 

     Then (FACT #2), I'm not ready for heart break. My heart hasn't healed from what has happened to it before and I'm not sure if I can take another blow. & while I'll take a free meal anytime...I don't want to date. I really just want to meet the person I'm going to be with already. I'm tired of looking. Tired of dating. Tired of searching. I'm not ready for arguments and yelling and worrying and questioning and checking in and keeping track. Not only do I not have the time for it, I don't think I have the strength. I used to yell. And when I say yell, I mean YELL. Believe me, I would swing if I felt I had to. I did swing when I felt I had to. I'm not going to pretend I've been the best person my whole life. I was actually a terrible person. I was so bad that not only did I wear men out, I wore myself out. I could be happily... something right now if I had matured when they expected me to. But really, you can only do that for yourself. 

      You get to a point when you've ruined your own life so much that you can't even deal with looking at yourself. I would literally ask myself what my problem was. I had to try to figure out why I kept ruining things for myself. This is not to say that the men didn't deserve what came to them or that I want to be with them now. This is simply to say that I have learned from my actions. I apologize to the men that had to take the heat so that The One could have me in my most perfect form. 

       Every woman has her history. Whether you know it or not. Whether people around you know it or not. My opinion on it all is this: What matters most is how long ago their transition to woman hood was. I personally believe that after a woman is hurt to the core of her heart... she breaks. She does things she shouldn't, wouldn't, couldn't. And she learns. You don't want to get with a woman in the middle of this transition because she doesn't know who she is or what she wants and has yet to realize her own flaws. 

         I can fill pages with my flaws. I still have flaws. The difference now is that I can pinpoint these flaws and correct my actions before I make mistakes. There was a time I felt like my body was all I had to give --for reasons women can all relate to, because we are never addressed separate from our bodies --but now, along with my flaws, I recognize my strengths. I congratulate myself on my accomplishments. I applaud myself in taking on adulthood with no fear. I rejoice in my attempts to understand woman hood and even more so what it means to be a black woman. A hispanic woman. An educated woman. A family woman. A motivated woman. 

      And still I'm alone. Here is where the confusion comes in. Here I am, listing off my qualities. The reasons I'm a good woman. Why I'm a good catch. So why doesn't anyone see that? Why don't the men I want, want me back? Why can't things be perfect? I catch myself staring at engagement rings. All of them. From righteous rocks to the diamond shavings placed in metal. I wonder what it takes to get there (not the shavings though, they can keep those). I'm not (really) in a rush. I just want to know if I'm going to get there. Will someone love me enough to make his mark and let the world know that he has chosen me? Someone chose those girls. No one chose me. I want someone to want to be with me. I want someone else to think I'm as great as I say I am and more. The hard part is I want him to be great too. While you aren't going to read an "Ella Wants a Baby" post for a couple years, I want a man who would be a candidate when my life starts to take that turn. 

      Well, there it is. I just moved to one of the most populated cities in the world and have gotten lonelier than I can begin to describe... Beyonce did a good job (or whoever wrote "Scared of Lonely"). I understand: I can't seem to breathe...I am lost in this dream. I need you to hold me. Thing is, I missing a "you". A guy once told me that his greatest fear was being alone. I hadn't even considered it. Now I know. I'm scared, too. 

**Sidenote: Went looking for a place in Harlem & saw some good looking brothas driving good looking cars looking back at me. THERE IS STILL HOPE. Stay Tuned.**

Wish me luck, Ellas.