I'm single and while most women can definitely commiserate with the fact that it gets old - no matter how many Buzzfeed quizzes and Huff Post articles tell you it's good for you, healthy, and you're better off for it - I haven't ever shared publicly just how old it's gotten for me. I've shared stories of why my personality may have rendered me dead to dating and how much texting is also not my thing (way before it became THE method of "getting to know" a person). Of course, I have even more entertaining stories from the dating file and this one actually lends itself to hope and why it's so hard to hold onto it these days...
I've been single for yearsssss (each 's' in that is analogous to 2 years) and part of that was perfectly okay since I was young and had my prerequisite fun and partial sexual education in my early-mid 20s. But at this point - being single for so long has gotten old...So old in fact that my singleness has developed a pubescent persona that formed alongside my ego. Upon further introspection of the creation of my single-persona, environmental factors heavily influenced its genesis. Living at home (you KNOW that will be a post on it's own) and the desire for physical touch and warmth from a man were the top two things driving this persona. The third thing (and hardest to actually admit) was the inescapable fact that somewhere deeply lodged in my brain was (and still is I guess) a hopeless romantic squishy, noisy, thing that emits squeaks of glee and warmth at any sign of what I call "coincidental non-factors" that could be linked to more than coincidence if only dude became a factor...I'll elaborate on that another time. Also still up in the air is the name of my single-persona because like all things at least I can laugh at it right? (Btw, suggestions are welcome!) The best analogy though would be SPIDERMAN::VENOM as HOPE::SINGLE-PERSONA.
Enter one chagrin-inducing moment and why I realized that just holding on to hope requires bungee cords, safety nets, a bit of therapy and a litany of saints to support it. What is about to be recounted is a synopsis and the mental processing that happened way afterwards (because I am a woman who like many women is always thinking even after the fact). For your reference, anything in parentheses moving forward are what came to mind, or that toy lodged deep in the recesses calling out.
I had recently come back from a trip and had a wonderful experience. Said trip was even more special because I met someone. This someone happened to live in Brooklyn - close to where I grew up and about 15 minutes from my house (around the way girl alert - path for escape alert #1). As group trips go there was plenty of fun, drinks, and hanging out for the group but within all that there was a connection to this someone. It went a lil something like this...
From the first night until the last night there was endless late night convoconcuddle (Spanglish for deep convo with cuddling and umm who knew I was actually a sapio-sexual until now??); there were doubts from everyone in the group including ourselves that we hadn't known each other prior to the trip (the words "this is crazy" got uttered regularly; romance-detectometer on mid-high level at the sheer irony, awww shit! SQUEAK); there was lots of affection (I always wanted this! But when you get it without begging, chasing, looking, and anticipating it's like getting the exact gift you wanted for Christmas as an adult - because 1. we don't get gifts and 2. we never want the gifts we get, merry merry squeak); there was natural-reaching hand holding (hopeless romantic DOWN! Code extra-sticky sap molasses clean up crew needed! And there are different degrees of hand-holding you got the reach kind...SQUEeaaaakkk!); and something else we both agreed on was that nothing felt forced, rehearsed or fake (le swoon for a guy with some character and care, yes gawwdd!).
It was definitely something new in more ways than one, and while there was more - there was NOT sex. I've traveled. A lot. One thing I've never done was have sex abroad...and not because I'm not a sexy, caramel tenderoni who hasn't been approached (obvi) - but I've never built a real connection with a dude while traveling enough to feel compelled to do all that (and in this case I think I began to anticipate the build up to doing it later - which is new....And to be honest I have had, and can get plenty of casual sex at home with people I know I wont be hearing from, in random places without adding the potential 'Taken,' locked up abroad, or unknown disease sharing pitfalls that could play out in these scenarios. But overall - not doing it was a buffer for my velvety soft ass heart that is already fragile from all the fragments I put back together bit by bit. It wasn't about doing it so much as it was about being in the moment and capitalizing on (what for me was) a crazy, sexy, cool connection (TLC lyrics made so much more sense after this...yasssss for rebounded 90s soundtrack relevance!). This someone also wasn't pressed which was perfect for me.
I know that travel is inherently something that is for a moment and this experience fit in perfectly. Notwithstanding the transience of it all - after feeling such wonderful feelings in an alternate yet authentic reality full of rainbows and waterfalls as a daily backdrop (literally the bows were flexin') - who wouldn't want to tap some of that sap occasionally in this forsaken rat-race called New York City?? I'm not going to say there was hope for some tell-tale 0-100 wifed up real quick scenario because truth be told that's not me - and my dusty relationship resume confirms that (imagined scene at Love's Office: Head Heart Matcher Manager: "Umm last place of substaintial relations mam?//Me: "ummm back when AIM was just ending, Facebook was just starting, and people used cell phones to call":: END SCENE). There was hope however, of sustaining some part of that experience...
The chagrin came from the single-persona making its ascension felt and agitations of the heart from days past. What seems to be persistent in most fleeting moments of sparked connectivity is the heart wants to feel that feeling - hell at least one of them if only for a moment again; to see that acknowledgement somehow manifested in a message, a chill session, outreach on local territory - anything to weaken the single-persona and demonstrate that even though it's been long: it won't be soon before long until there is a connection that isn't under 90 days, 60 days, 30 days. And we are used to instant gratification, you're one drag and drop green dot away from being available when you just had that "busy" status right?? The glimmer of hope that you can at least finally discuss A [as in 1; singular; uno; not the rotation because even the subs are acting up] person at length without wanting to put your foot in your mouth to your besties. The hope that you wont have to worry about another Houdini vanishing on you after an ignored text (because it always starts with an ignored text-ughhhh. I. Hate/Loathe/Despise. Those. Shits.) But these are the reasons hanging on to hope is harder than winning the lottery.
The bombardment of messages telling us as Black, educated women that there are not really any men out there for us x the messages that marriage is happening less/way later + the constant thirst (another post coming soon) that has all but bulldozed the art of courtship and really spending time/putting in work getting to know a person = The desire of time to chill seeming in and of itself a demand of the highest order. Connections in physical spaces and in real time are generally not prioritized and valued as much these days.
I caught myself (or maybe this was the single-persona devil) wishing I didn't have this experience with this someone. It would've been so much easier to go on another trip, see and do some dope shit, come home, and go about my business as usual...and we won't talk about the fact that personally I ABHOR trails (photos) and evidence of any encounters of even the slightest significance. Reminders (even more photos) suck dirty, sweaty, hairy ass balls (and that's actually part me + part single-persona talking). But some friends had to remind me that yes - when you don't get the response you want WHEN you want it (or ever) it is defeating and deflating but there was the experience. Ahh that thing, experience (no squeaks for this. Heart ty does not enjoy now being back in my recessed corner).
I actually think I have the best team of man-cheerleaders on my side...They're all excited about a wedding that I'm convinced will happen because they say it will! But the best therapy for my heart was actually writing this....I know tons of women who are absolutely great and have remained open and been hanging on longer than that front tooth dangling on the last nerve before it finally...falls...out. I feel guilty sometimes for being in my feelings (because being single isn't the worst thing, heart toy lets out a deflated huff of air) but for me at that point singleness feels like a bid. Caught in a hailstorm of ratchetness, whackness, and shallowness...going in the opposite direction of everything else in your life. I feel like being a phone person makes me a dinosaur. I felt like not having the desire for casual sex puts me at a disadvantage (sometimes, most times I'm happy I dodged an added notch and bullshit stream of bullets - but still).
I love myself and go on solo dates all the damn time but can I get an impromptu chill with someone I actually want to create combustible chemistry with (that buildup has so much potential to be too good)?? But even if it's hard to hold on to hope for all these reasons + being a Scorpio of the highest order and emotional by nature - I'm glad I got to experience some of what I've always said I wanted in some small way. For so long it was just an articulation but never seen in action - like a unicorn. Single-persona makes you forget how it feels to be held and paid attention to - it almost becomes like a mirage. You wind up watching The Notebook hoping that someone writes you an actual letter at least once a month or at least professes their love via a verbose text message that you will most-likely NEVER get (is it guy code not to exceed 3-lines of text message?); or maybe Brown Sugar waiting for that friend to mix all your old school favorites on a tape or burn you a CD and serenade their love to you in song lolol. (mild squeak: I know I'm not the only hopeless romantic left out here!) I swear RomComs are endorsed by Tinkerbell's love fairy sprinkling extra-sugary concocted visions of romance. But single-persona has a way of confounding hope, feelings, and expectation. Hell a lot of people in "relationships" have single-persona dancing all up in their shit - but I won't go into fraud. Single-persona will have you thinking you know what you're talking about in dating discussions when in reality you need to have a stadium full of seats (I make sure to disclaim my opinions as just that with my veteran single ass).
Holding on to hope was recently made harder though because I got a glimpse of it up close and personal. That's the closest it's been since about 2000-someolwayback. Holding on to hope was made heavier than an anvil because I have, in a lot of ways, just shut off that part of myself...I needed to just pray in church because I didn't want to feel anything, remember anything and I definitely took it there since it's a job for Jesus anyway. Hanging on to hope is made arduous in the context of simplicity too. The desire for connectivity is something that I love in any form but at the level above platonic/networking side - can't say I've had more than tumbleweeds passing through.
I'm sure I'll have it again - and I know I will have it again (claiming it!). Author note: at the time of publishing it appears said moment was frozen in time and nothing came of it - despite the low-lying hope that it would. Deep down I'm just a sucker for things I like and as an entrepreneur I'm used to figuring out what to do to get the results I want. But this realm is not just about me and even my ego has grown icy. People's schedules (I promise you're not busier than me), the "rules" (you know you can't keep reaching out cuz then you'll be the thirsty one!) and the nonprioritized, uncategorized, and undervalued lane of keeping special moments going with some sort of regularity has been lost in the age of short ass attention spans, egotism, and people-juggling... so I'll just keep going about my business.
I'll be lighting some candles, praying to every saint of love I can Google, consulting with the team when I need a laugh and whatever else I have to do to keep my hope alive. As a classmate of mine noted: discussions on dating will be when I take my restroom/drank in my cup re-up/ and social media inspirational quote breaks.
I guess the glimpse of hope I got on this trip was a preview of the coming attractions for my love life? I'm hopeful it was...and I hope everyone can have a hopeful moment and experience some glimpse of what they want in authenticity...it feels GREEAAAATTTT and just as corny as Tony the Tiger - I promise (especially if there are witnesses and gushing of any sort occurs). Sadness may be looming somewhere when the moment passes but sometimes a reminder of why you're hopeful, holding on and hanging on is good. I used to think feeling anything was bad - but feeling is good if you can learn from it. I know there were some insecurities that I acquired in this single history and I also am aware that single-persona can be a runaway train (thank you LAWD for girl-talk!). But if it can happen once and feel so amazing - even if for only a brief moment - then- it will surely happen again...and single-persona needs a little spot check every now and again especially since it wont be around forever.
