On Womanfriends and Such.

Love is apparently very much in the air. As of this weekend I have now attended two weddings of two dear friends in as many months. Going to back to back weddings helped restore my faith in and desire for a relationship/romance in my own life. Besides the typical fun of seeing old friends and faces at these types of celebrations, it’s hard even for the coldest of hearts, not to be inspired, struck, or at the very least thawed by romantic hope.

However, this was just the tip of the iceberg. In the week leading up to the wedding this past weekend, I heard through the negro gossip network, that my dearest lady, very recently divorced and very far removed from any semblance of intimacy unexpectedly got her groove back in a way that would have made that Stella character batshit jealous.

And just like that, out of the blue, she is back in the game after a decade plus – long drought (I’m being very conservative in my estimation). At first I was shocked, then delighted, and finally inspired to as I have been somewhat resistive, probably abnormally so, towards relationships for what will be three full years come August.

Allow me to explain the layered reasoning, as faulty as it may have been, behind my stubborn resistance, however. For the better part of my late adolescence to early adulthood (from ages 19-27) I was continuously in and out (more time in) of rollercoaster, merry-go-round, revolving door, relationships stemming from the overlapping loves of yesterday. Now we all know how incredibly intense, and typically unhealthily so, young love can be (in fact, studies have shown that the same parts of the brain active during amphetamine use are active during the early stages of such love).

That said for the longest time I associated feelings of true love with a certain type of off-the-bat intensity and dismissed, to a certain extent, anything that did not match up to it as somehow being inauthentic. I figured, instead of wasting a prospect’s time with anything less than head-over-heels infatuation/affection, I would better serve her by allowing her to keep it moving and by doing the same myself. I thought I would have been doing her a disservice by getting involved without feeling a certain way about her, not fully understanding that just because I wasn’t that into her on day one, doesn’t mean that such necessary affection can’t be developed through the course of sustained contact by the end of month one for instance. It’s been my observation though, that while less intense admittedly, the sustained growth and development of a subdued love and affection is more conducive to long-term relational stability. That was roadblock one, the subdued, “this isn’t the real thing.”

Two was the “timing” issue, which upon further inspection was the label I used to mask yet another intrapersonal hang-up. A little while back I heard something like the following: when a woman finds the right man, it’s the right time, and when a man finds the right time, he’ll find the right woman. For the longest, I swore up and down it wasn’t the right time for me, because of x,y, or z. While certainly when reflecting on it issues surrounding instability across the board (financial, mental, geographic, professional, mental, etc.) posed concerns insofar as potential relationships are concerned, the opportunity to meet that special someone can arise, and has arisen, wherever and whenever, even in hospital settings. It was more my preoccupation with and insecurities behind my own desirability, suitability, and what I had (or didn’t have) to offer someone at any given time.

However, my brief stint on okcupid last year was further highlighted this point that there is interest in and those who are willing to work with certain circumstance so long as they are offset and outweighed by other positives, which apparently, I possessed.

I was very open and honest on my cupid profile about everything I didn’t have going on at the time. (No place of my own – I was living at home with my mother and sister and the time, no ride – hello bus pass, no income/money – unless you counted my $200 worth of EBT as assets, I was pretty much flat broke). I also let them know about the manic episode/hospitalization that led me to that circumstance. Yes, before I delved into anything remotely positive about myself, I let them know off the bat about any potential deal-breakers.

I know I would rather be over informed than under, and to err, even on the side of gross initial over disclosure, was to give these women as much possible information so that they could make the most well-informed decision for themselves.

I must admit, another part of it was self-serving as well. My situation as described, and accurately so, was almost a test of their disposition. Another quote, “sometimes we put up walls, just to see who will climb over them.” While I’m no sadist, and would myself much rather have someone open the door for me, than have me toss a grappling hook over a wall to scale it, it was almost like a defense mechanism to an extent. I didn’t want to get involved under false pretenses, or even less than very forthcoming ones only to have a woman, find out a non-negotiable dealbreaker down the line and bounce suddenly and unexpectedly. I didn’t think that would have been cool to have to deal with for either of us.

Even with all of that out in the open, however, I found other reasons to resist. “Oh, I’m living at home and don’t want to commit to someone in the Boston area, because this isn’t where I see myself in the future.”

Through it all, however, I really feel like I made the best decision for myself in waiting so long, as I felt it necessary to detox, and let all of the toxic attachments and energies dissipate fully, before making them someone else’s problem. And despite being single, celibate, and not looking to date, I was almost always qualifying silently, and developing a composite sketch if you will, of my ideal partner. There was a long time in my life where I felt like I needed to be in a relationship, and similarly now, I’m just exiting a season where I felt I needed to be alone. In any case, either extreme need probably isn’t healthy, but I feel more moderately where I can entertain hope for a relationship while remaining entirely comfortable and content without one.

Just like there are the four C’s of diamond buying (cut, color, clarity, and carat for the uninitiated), there are three such C’s I require for the diamond of a woman I desire. In order of importance: 1) character 2) compatibility 3) cute. While I will break down the relative weight and definition of these criteria further at a later time, I understand that this is what I’m looking for, and I will not settle for anything less than what I want. Always choose, never settle.

Doing so would only be doing a disservice to all parties involved, as I learned the hard way. One of the worst things a fellow can do, is waste a woman’s time. Especially a young woman dealing with irreversible, biological time frames.  If you are the least bit uncertain or unsure about your ability and/or desire to commit under the terms you have proposed or implied, then be a fucking gentleman, give her the gift of goodbye (to borrow from late 90’s Oprah speak) and let the lady find someone who isn’t. Very simple. Or at the very least, be open and honest about these doubts, so they she may either work through them with you. If you conceal your any of these uncertainties the truth will 1) reveal itself to both you and her eventually and 2) make you feel even worse than you would have for wasting your time and hers, that is if you have any sense of decency.

And finally there was the physical self-sabotage that kept me off the market. After engorging myself like a gluttonous POS for a solid year at home, I blew up to forty pounds over what I consider my ideal weight range. Besides not looking like myself, I didn’t feel like it. My confidence, appearance-wise, was at an all-time low, so my head was down. When your head is down, women don’t look at you, and even if they had been, I wouldn’t have recognized it. When women don’t look at you your head drops down even further, so the cycle of despair feeds on and exacerbates itself.

Thankfully, however, I pulled it together and am now back on top my game physically, and am again, for the first time in a very long time, putting effort into my appearance (e.g., grooming, dress, self-care etc.) to the point where my head is up and the ladies are showing love (and even though one of my front teeth looks chipped (due to sugar, caffeine, and nicotine dependences that have been all since been addressed) in a Fabolous/mid 90’s Nas type way, it’s almost become part of the look at this point, so I’ve become comfortable with it as opposed to self-conscious about it.

This makes me feel happy and normal again to the point where I do want a woman friend. And even though, I’m notoriously picky and OCDish in my selectivity/criteria, I now realize the self-defeating nature of it all. These once rigid guidelines can be slightly bent if not overridden for the right woman. Again, it feels good to be able to acknowledge that simple desire/need for companionship. Oh and for fucking, too.

Quick digression. As I look at my calendar, it’s now been three years and two months of celibacy. This strikes me as just a tad abnormal. Though I’m no ladies man / Don Juan Demarco by any stretch I have, during the course of this time frame, been lucky enough to have my fair share of opportunities having had women offer passively as well as very boldly as well. It got to the point where I was just happy to look, fantasize, and fuck ‘em with the eyes as the late, great Patrice O’Neal alluded to doing (great clip to come at a later date, if I can ever find it).

Recreational sex has never been appealing to me as I’m someone who prefers committed monogamy to the casual thing. If a meaningless nut is something I crave that badly, I can always, um, take matters into my own hands. Sex without feeling a certain way about the woman involved was never for me, though I’m not knocking those who enjoy it. To each his own. When you’re dealing with potential procreation as a consequence, I’d rather not pretend our actions in the bedroom aren’t without meaning outside of it because if you don’t feel a certain way about her now, you very well could nine months from now.  (Besides, it’s 2012, STD’s are rampant, especially in ATL, and as Uncle Snoop said in ’93: “Ain’t no pussy good enough to get burnt, while I’m up in it.”). It’s crazy to me even, it’s to the point where I’m even over porn. While as recently as a couple of months ago, I specialized in the auto erotic arts and regularly drained comcast’s bandwidth via routine visits to “the hub,” at some undetermined point, the mechanicalness and predictability of it all ruined the appeal.

Guess when you’re 30 as opposed to 13, you’ve pretty much seen all you can see porn-wise. In fact, as of right now I don’t even know if my man parts are in working order, but then again, I have no reason to stress it as I have no means to test them. Hopefully I’ll rise to the occasion and will cross that bridge when I come to it. Hardy har har.

Back to this relationship avoidance thing, though. There was the whole eliminate (sexual) dependence issue. Back in the day, at times, if I didn’t get my, “healing” as prescribed/expected, it sometimes was an issue (this was especially true when doing the long distance thing, when damn near  expected the panties to drop on siht). To avoid all of this, and keep someone from even potentially using sex as a weapon/leverage/bargaining chip (which irritated me to no end), I avoided it all together. Again though, I took it to the extreme, and did so without even realizing it. Case in point, my homegirl at work gave me a hug for the first time a few months ago. Even the physicality of a hug jarred me, as it was very foreign. If the growing field of positive psychology is any indicator, this strangeness was not good since touch is a pro-social behavior amongst all living creatures.

Getting back to it the relationship though. I’m all for it if and only if it’s an excellent, hand-in-glove type fit and it presents an additive, mutual benefit, the likes of which neither of us could have achieved individually. Not forcing a damn thing. While I’m busier than ever these days, you can always, always, always, make time for what’s truly important to you. Though I’m old school, and would prefer to meet someone in person (most likely at work – which is the perfect place for many a reason to be enumerated later) or in the gym or elsewhere, for the time-being, I’ll try my luck on the cupid for one mo’ go round. Why not maximize the odds for success, right?

I’m done with the walls up, the hang-ups, and the excuses. There’s no sense in denying myself a woman friend. If they’re cool with the situation as it stands there’s no sense in denying them either. As with anything, you gotta ask “why not, instead of why?” sometimes.