Friday, 28 June 2013

Heads-up: Heart on Sleeve

All my synapses have been firing since last night. Felt like I needed a block o' ice on my brain! And, yes, it was all because of a TT that @MizDurie started: #PSMBookTitles.  Funny stuff. Sad commentary on governance in Jamaica.

But, I'm here now. My lil corner of cyberspace. Ahhhhh. I've been thinking about the content for today's post for some time. As they say in the making of movies, "Let's cut to the chase."

I heard somewhere sometime ago that when it comes to new relationships, the older you get, the faster you know. It didn't take me long to realize what was meant by that. For, truly, somewhere near or after I reached Forty, it was like I was seeing and experiencing human interactions for the first time, clothed with a keen sense of the foolishness up with which I would not put.

And, of course, that applied to the men I met.

I have to say here: No one will ever get me to speak bad about "men in general." I have a beautiful example of a man man; a wonderful gentleman - my father. And, in my now extended family, there are really nice men - my Brothers-in-Law. I'm pretty sure I've said it here before: People are people wherever you go. And, someone who has been unkind or hurtful is just that - someone who was unkind or hurtful. I don't "fry other people in one person's fat" as the saying goes.

But, there is such a thing as wisdom. And, it is not wise to have learned a lesson, only to repeat the same mistake two, three or more times. They say by the time you're Forty, you would likely have met all the types of people you're ever going to meet. Pretty cool, huh? The new people you now meet remind you of someone else you've met...

Over the years, I've met a few very nice men. Others were not so nice - in the end. Dated outside of my race. Always dated older. Along the way, I've picked up a few lessons in gems. They are my gems. If you learn something from them, fine. If not, that's fine, too. I just know that, as that saying goes, we "learn from the mistakes of others. We can't live long enough to make them all ourselves." Now, what may drive one woman crazy, I may probably be like, pshhh! And, what may get on my last nerve would probably not faze another woman in the least. My point, know yourself and come clean from the start. Btw,  the "he" is used in a deliberately abstract way - not referring to all of them but may draw on traits common to more than one of them.

Keeping his word
This is important to me. A man keeps his word. But, he repeatedly broke his word. Even a small commitment seemed like an onerous task. Always said he was gonna be there, but, 8 times out of 10, didn't show. Nor did he call, or text, before, during, or after the disappointment. This was very early on and I slowly acknowledged that he was just not into me. I imagine that if things had gone on, he would've been the kind of person to leave me standing at the altar. I summed it up as a "cycle of disappointment" and, although it was hard at first, it came to pass that we settled into something along the lines of acquaintances.

The way he speaks
I had the pleasure of listening to Lorna Goodison, a Jamaican poet (now residing in Canada) as she read from one of her books years ago. I was in my late teens and had, by then, got drawn into poetry. I don't recall the title of the poem (and I'm not going to Google it. Google and I aren't speaking right now.) But, the part that got me was: He wooed her with words and he won her / He had nothing but words to woo her.  (It was about her father and mother.)

Another point before I make the point. My mother told me long ago - perhaps mid-teens - that "women fall in love through their ears; men fall in love through their eyes." Ever since then, something trips in when I hear a man speak to me in that certain way. It's my pulse reaction is on a 2-second delay or something. Y'know? Like the TV coverage of Nik Wallenda crossing over Little Canyon the other day - just in case tragedy struck? Yeah. Kinda like that.

Now, when he wrote to me, it did not pass Go. The words were immediately emblazoned upon my brain where they will spend the rest of my life. Ok. A bit of an exaggeration, but, you catch my drift. Words on paper  - like, real real letter! - or on a screen, that I'll have to look over and over and over again, caress my senses and invite me in to come, stay a while. That makes my heart glad.

Raising his voice
He raised his voice at me and started to belittle me; tried to tear me down in his insecurity. Something said, "Wake up. This is verbal abuse. A two-fer, really - verbal and emotional and, well a three-fer - psychological as well. And, this is ugly." It made my heart sad.

None ever raised his hand at me. But, I would not have needed to be told twice to get out of that "friendship." Now.

Terms of endearment
The friendship seemed to be on his terms. He reached out only when he wanted something like dinner or so. He lost interest mid-way after he'd had his fill of conversation or dinner or so. It is never nice to feel that you are being taken for granted or so.

Priorities priorities
He placed me on the back-burner. And, I could never be in the right as far as he was concerned. What's the saying? Don't let someone be your number one if they treat you like you're number two? Or, don't let someone be your priority when you're only an option?
The NABA Zone
In the beginning, he made me laugh with gladness. Then, as things progressed, more and more I cried in sadness. As I've written in this blog before, no loneliness feels as bad as being miserable hurts. At times the behaviour was like someone just "hanging on 'til the right one comes along." I call that the NABA Zone - Not Available But Available. Who wants, when they're asked, "Are you seeing someone?" to find themselves going, "Well, not really. No." You're not really seeing someone? Then what are you really doing? That situation can't be fair - for either of you. You can do better. And, sometimes, doing better means doing without.

He cheated on me. No pain so great. No second chance.

God is holding my heart
Now, the heart and soul of the one for me may be in a tall white bald guy or a short white bald guy or a tall black bald guy or a short black bald guy...You see where I'm going with this, yes? And, it may be that the Lord would have me wait a bit longer or a little longer than a bit longer for that one who is right for me. What I do know is this. God loves me. And, if I knew nothing else, that would be enough. But, I also know that He is holding my heart. And, He is teaching me how to love, in spite of imperfections - not to be confused with ugly. He knows how persnickety and what not I get. How? Exhibit A: After tweeting whole night on the topic, I sent emails of book titles tweets to myself at three o'clock this morning because my synapses were firing. That how. I trust Him to bless me with someone who will get me and "love me anyway" - and who would come check on me to see whether I'm okay why I'm still not in bed at three o'clock. Although, I dunno. It's likely that if he were here already, the tweets would have had to wait. Zi mi. ;-)

He is holding my heart. "Sit still, my daughter, until thou know how the matter will fall." Ruth 3:18


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