Baring All

A couple of weeks ago, I mentioned there were 2 guys that were on my mind but I only wrote about one. Now, I'm sitting here, thinking about something not quite entirely unrelated (I can connect the dots if I reeally wanted to but there are a whole lot of dots to connect if I tried...lol). And my thoughts sort of whispered to my brain "you're ready. so spill it". Thus leading me here.

Let me preface this spill by saying a few of you out there may know this person, or may think you know this person. As I type this I'm thinking of ways to protect his identity because this is one post I don't want to come back and bite me in the ass. I can't even give him a blog name because every one I think of might reveal who he is. I'll surprise myself if I have the courage to click "publish post" and not simply "save now". We'll see how this goes.

So to understand the full scope of this story, I gotta go back. Way back. Back into time. Circa 1994. Freshwoman year of college. "He" was an upperclassman and we instantly hit it off. As friends. My roomie tried to hint that "He" may be interested a whole lot more but I just played dumb. Looking back, I can admit I had a small feeling otherwise (the Midnight Love dedications kinda sealed the deal even though I protested with "there are a few Janelle's on campus; that ain't me getting the dedications"). But with my New York 'tude, I was used to dudes just coming out and saying "yo, shorty. what's up? can I holla atchu for a minute?". I wasn't accustomed to the genteel ways in which things were done where "He" is from. So I kept him in the friend role until "He" actually voiced his feelings years later. And I shut "He" D.O.W.N. - "I like the friend zone. I'll fuck this up if we pursue something more". Being the gentleman that he is, "He" respected my wishes and we remained friends. UNTIL I broke the rules of engagement and, according to my roomie, his heart. Without going into detail (to protect the identity of the innocent - him- and the stupid - me), just know that I was wrong (told you I would fuck this up). When "He" graduated later that year, we weren't speaking. At all.

Years go by and every so often, I would think of him. I still have the gifts he gave me back in college. Technically, they were for my roommate and I but somehow in the madness of packing, I got custody. He was so nice, so sweet, and I was an idiot. I would wonder how he's doing, what he's up to, blah, blah, blah. But it was always fleeting because I had no way of getting in touch with him and would probably chicken out if I did have a way.

Fast forward to late 2005-ish. Thanks to the internets and social networking, we were reunited (and it felt soooo goood; sorry I couldn't help it...hahahahahahaa). As friends. First it started with a friend request, then the exchanging of a couple of comments and messages. Then at one point, phone numbers were exchanged (I was stranded in his hometown airport for 8 hours). And then just like that I had my buddy back. We would talk for hours about everything and nothing. Never once did "He" mention my fuck-up. We were older, more mature. I was just ecstatic to have my buddy back. My roomie, the hopeless romantic (to some degree) would hit me with "You know [He] still loves you." And I would give the phone the side eye and tell her "There ain't no love here." Almost the exact same conversations we had back in our Home by the Sea days, except we were no longer cramped in a dorm room with no air conditioning (by the way, that should be illegal in the South. Landmark building my ass! hahahahaha). We were grown adults having 18 year conversations. Months went by and "He" and I still talked and talked and talked. Eventually I was in a "relationship" and nothing about our phone convos changed. I still spoke to him at least once a week for hours on end. See? Friends forever!!

Ease on down the road to 2007. I was in the throws of a breakup. "He" called me everyday to check on me. Every single day. "He" kept telling me I needed to get out of New York to escape the madness that my life had escalated to. "He" offered to send me a ticket. I refused. "He" offered to drive to NY and we could make a road trip back to his neck of the woods or wherever I wanted to go. Still refused. So he called. Everyday. To make sure I was okay. I laughed. I cried. I vented. All of it. And he still called. Everyday. A couple of months later, I began to feel a certain way. Like I wondered if "He" was the all illusive "One". I knew I was going through some shit but I couldn't help but wonder about "He" and me and possibly being a "we".

So I did what all girls do. I consulted one of my girls. I didn't consult roomie because I felt her judgement would be skewed - primarily because she was all intertwined in the intricacies of our history and I didn't want to hear "I told you so". Once I told my girl "I think I'm falling for "He", I felt relieved and sick to my stomach all at the same time. I left that convo thinking I was just trying to displace all of my lovey dovies out of the toxicity of breakup hell I was existing in and on him instead since it was a much better place than the former residence. Anywho. I kept my mouth shut to "He". Our phone calls went from daily to weekly to bi-weekly. He would ask me to come and visit still. Instead of flat out refusing, I would say "okay, maybe in _____" with ______ being a month further down the road. As 2007 drew to a close, I still had those wondering in the back of my mind. What if I did go to visit?? What if we hit it off?? So with the courage of the New Year ahead, I promised myself I would visit him in February, just to see what was what. Come hell or high water, I was going to visit. (Sidebar: where does this "hell or high water" come from??? Like are the options burning in hell or drowning in water??? That doesn't sound appealing either way. hahahahaa). I just waited for the right time to tell "He" about my travel plans.

"He" called me on Christmas Day to share some news. "He" was engaged.

(to be continued..........)