A Person You Used to Know

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Have you ever been trying to find an email or some information so you’re looking through old messages and you come across someone you used to talk to everyday? When you think back to that moment in your life you would have thought it was unimaginable that you’d never talk to that person again. But it happened. Now they’re just a part of your history, memories that will fade as you get older and someone new has taken their spot.

One day you’re sitting at work wondering what you can do for her to make her smile. One day you’re worried because her stomach won’t stop hurting or she has these headaches that won’t go away. So you read somewhere that taking too much Tylenol is dangerous so you’re googling green tea recipes’ and different ways for her to get better. You go from all this to nothing, not even a text on a birthday or a card when you find out someone important to her has died.

In those moments right after it happens you’re sick, sick that you ever met her, sick that you ever loved her, sick that you still want her. In those moments you literally can’t imagine life without her but guess what happens? Time happens.

A week turns into a month. A month turns into several months, a year turns into making different memories. Instead of planning a wedding you’re planning a trip alone. Instead of game night you’re at a sports bar talking to strangers like you’re bestfriends.

Caring about someone more than you care about anyone on this earth and in the blink of an eye you aren’t even on speaking terms. That’s going to leave a bruise but bruises heal. It’s going to hurt, you’ll want answers some nights, some nights you’ll want to hold them, some nights you’ll want to fight them and then one night you’ll stop dreaming about what could have been. Part of being human is having feelings. It’s not just feeling and tasting the beauty but also the hurt.

Maybe it’s right person, wrong time.

Maybe it’s right time, wrong person.

Maybe you just messed up.

Either way, life goes on.

When It Is Okay to Ask Her If She’s Okay

Insanity

Insanity

I’m not sure the picture that accompanies this blog has anything to do with the actual content but I just like the picture. You can’t go wrong with thighs and curly hair and kitchen counters. Now let me get to the issue at hand.

Last night as it was storming and lightening as if the end of days was near my lights went out. A tree fell in the backyard, the wind was rocking the entire house. Rain was falling as if it was knocking on my front door. As I’m lying on the couch with my cell phone at 19% and my laptop at 30% I’m wondering one thing, “Is she okay?” Are her lights out? Was she out with friends or working late and stuck somewhere? Is she at home and it’s barely raining over there? Picking up my phone, wanting to call, wanting to send a text, I realized something. That’s not my job anymore, she has a man now.

Not to be petty or to over think a situation but the truth is people throw the word friends around. You have sex with a woman, make love to a woman, pick her up from work when it’s storming, get her medicine when she’s sick. She lifts you up when the world is beating you down, she cooks for you and kisses you and encourages all the good things about you that you didn’t even know existed. That woman may have once been your friend but when it became more than that, you can’t go back. There’s no pretending you didn’t love her and she didn’t love you. You can’t put the word “friends” on that now.

I can only speak for myself and write for myself, everyone isn’t going to have the same dynamic. Some couples can be best friends, can go out double dates, can talk like they never shared the same bed for countless nights. I’m not one of those men. I don’t love in a way that allows me to pretend we never had what we had. If any woman I’ve dated meets a man and she’s happy then outside of the occasional catch up conversation or social media interaction I’m probably going to let her go.

Letting her go doesn’t mean I won’t still be available if she needs me. If she has a flat or needs someone to talk to but talking, texting, sharing intimate details. That would have to stop for both of our sakes. It wouldn’t be fair to another woman if I’m still trying to maintain this “friendship” with a woman I once loved. It’s not fair to her new man that she’s still needing my emotional support. It’s not mean spirited to tell someone “We can’t be friends because being around you will always feel like more.” That’s just something adults have to do.

Be careful in this rain today and get prepared for hurricane season.

~ Demez F. White

Healing Her Heart

Happy

Happy

No matter how hard she tried she couldn’t stop smiling. The thought of him showing up had her dancing in her tank top and panties while she prepared dinner and double checked to make sure her apartment was clean. It had been a long time since she invited a man to her home for dinner. It took therapy, prayer and a lot of time to heal but she felt like he was the one.

The only reminder left of that night was a small scar over her eyebrow barely visible unless the sun caught it the right way. She thought he was coming over to propose, she thought it was going to be the happiest night of her life and instead it was the worse. To this day she still doesn’t know why he attacked her, why he beat her and did what he did.

The look in his eyes wasn’t the look of the man she’d known for a year, the man she would have done anything for. It was the look of a man that hated her. Lying on the floor, feeling like she was seconds away from dying her heart stopped when he pulled out the gun. It wasn’t for her though, he used it on himself.

“I want you to live with what you made me do. Why did you make me fall in love with you?”

Those words and the sound of the gunshot caused her more nightmares then she could have ever imagined. Even with her eye shut and her ribs broken she cried over his body, shaking him to be okay. To wake up!

That night changed her life, blinking her eyes, sipping the wine, she came back to reality. He was gone, Adam was nothing like him. He was sweet and smart and patient. Their love wasn’t intense, it wasn’t scary. When she was younger she would have never given a man like Adam a chance. He was attractive and had great qualities but they weren’t qualities she could appreciate back then.

Outside of her therapist she’d never told anyone about what happened that night, not even her family. The day she told him at the park she felt like it wasn’t her she was talking about. She could feel the tears falling and she saw it all in her head but she needed him to know. Squeezing her hand, wiping her tears, he listened to every word. She left nothing out, every detail, no matter how graphic.

The hardest part, the part she feared most, was telling him she couldn’t have children. The attack did more than brake her spirit, it broke a part of what made her a woman. Meeting his eyes, telling him what the doctors told her, what the specialist told her. “It’s why I can’t accept your love Adam, I know how much a child means to you and you say you’re okay with it now but I know you’ll resent me.” Pulling her close, unable to fight back his own tears. “I just want you. I haven’t regretted one moment we’ve been together and I don’t care how long it takes for you to heal or get comfortable with being with a man again. I’m here, I’m here. You don’t have to ever worry about me not being the man I am today. If it’s only the two of us for the rest of my life then God has given me more than enough.”

That spring afternoon was the cleansing the needed. Today she was ready. She wouldn’t hide her body, slipping off her jeans, opening the door. He stood there smiling, a bottle of wine, flowers. Taking the things out of his hand she pulled him inside, kissing him for what felt like the first time.

Today was a new day, today she would let love and happiness call her home.

Men Don’t Heal; They Whore

521747_661840235885_118401058_31768289_1343921451_n Men are stubborn.

Men are prideful.

Men are damn near as emotional as women if not more.

What’s the difference? The difference is we aren’t allowed to be those things to the world. I can’t go to work around a bunch of men and tell them how much I miss her. I can’t get on FB and tell the world my house no longer feels like a home since her perfume is no longer on my pillow. So what outlet do I have? I could write more, I could exercise, I could work longer hours. But all of those things combined wouldn’t take my mind off the hurt, the pain I feel.

The burning in my stomach when I see her post a FB status that I know isn’t about me. The tension I feel in my neck when my phone vibrates and it’s not her number that I deleted but know by heart.

So what is my only option? The option that will lead me out of the wilderness and back to civilization? That option is replacing her because if I can’t have her I’ll have someone. And if that one woman doesn’t compare to her, there’s another and then another and then….. another.

Whoring isn’t just me running around sticking my pipe in anything that’s wearing a pretty pencil skirt and has nice teeth. Whoring with women’s brains is just as critical as whoring with what’s between their legs. Telling every woman that I meet what she wants to hear just so I won’t be alone.

Sure, there are men that are so hurt they want to fuck the best friend and the sister, they want to add every girl she’s ever talked shit about so that she can see he doesn’t need her. There are those men and those men are hoeing because they want her to feel the same hurt. They want her to call and curse him out, to yell and scream and threaten because at least she’s calling.
Men whore when we get hurt because to be hurt is like having a rabbit dog eat out your insides and you’re hands are tied behind your back.

Men whore when we get hurt because we need to know that not every woman feels like she did.

And more than anything men whore because it’s better than facing the truth, the truth that things could be so much more different if only I would have been different. The regret and fear that she’ll never want you again only pushes you into another woman’s arms.

Why do you think men are in relationships for years with good women and a week later they’re with the biggest bopper they can find? It’s because being with this woman that does nothing for your growth helps you to ignore the fact that the woman that did everything for your grown is probably a lot happier with you out of her life.

I miss Ash, Kor, Lo, De F. Baby, Melanie, Ariel… I honestly thought I would marry each one at the time I knew them and more than that I thought I would die when I wasn’t talking to them anymore. So I made new friends, flirted with new women and faked it until I made it.

My hurt was so vicious that the only thing that calmed it was other women. Their voice, their faith, their willingness to open up to me. I’ve never been the guy that meets a woman at a club and goes home with her the same night. My strength is getting in a mind and making love to every inch of those brain cells. That’s how I do my whoring when I need healing.
Most of us grow out of it but just know this. Men hoe not to be asshole or to hurt you. We hoe because we miss the hell out of you and our pride won’t allow us to share that pain with the world. Have you ever cut yourself or cracked a bone? There is so much pain before we heal. So much hurt. Men hate that feeling and we want more than anything to skip that feeling.

Men cry in the dark.

Men drink the nightmares away.

Men hoe because in the absence of our perfect woman all we want to the best substitute for you we can find. Most of us will get out of this and end up being better men because of it but just have patience.

Sing A Song For Me… B.S.

I think you’re beautiful.

I love you.

You should come to bed.

Those were the things I wanted to say; the things I should have said but that’s not what came out.

“I thought you would be sleep.” Is what came out, she was sitting on the piano stool playing with some keys, I didn’t think she knew how to play. I was sure she didn’t know how to play but neither did I. I only had it because I loved music and it looked good on the hardwood floors. I would bring someone in for dinner parties or the Holidays to play, music always calmed me.

That’s probably why we were friends. I knew she was down, she needed to get away so she’d stayed here the past couple nights. It was cool, the house didn’t seem as empty when she was here and I think we were both doing each other a favor. No one really wanted to be alone all the time and if you couldn’t be with the one you wanted…

“We had a baby shower today at work, I’m the one that picked up the cake. It’s her second baby, her husband even showed up and surprised her. I’m the only one there that isn’t married or close to it. I just don’t get it.”

I didn’t get it either, she should have been married with babies and the whole nine. She was a good woman but some chicks just had bad luck. I made it a habit not to ask her too many details about her love life; I was supportive of her, hell… I probably loved her but my support didn’t extend to knowing details. I was good with words, great with words but it was getting harder and harder finding the words to make her feel better.

No matter what I said, it wasn’t going to matter because I wasn’t the one she needed to hear the words from. She spend most of her time sitting at the piano writing songs or on the balcony playing with her phone. I was sure she was waiting on him to call so I gave her her space, waited on her to come to me.

I handed her the bowl of fruit and sat next to her on the piano, I hated seeing her like this. She deserved better than this but you can’t save someone when you don’t have the tools to save them.

You’ll be okay.

There’s someone for you.

The men you date are stupid.

How many more clichés could I rattle off before she jumped out a window? If there was one thing I knew she loved just as much as she loved the idea of being in love, it was her music. Maybe changing the subject would get her out of this funk.

“Sing a song for me?”

She smiled and looked at me with the saddest eyes I’d ever seen, she had on one of my pajama tops and I wanted to hug her, tell her everything was going to be okay? But was it going to be okay for someone like her. She was twenty eight, beautiful, educated, she wanted a man that made her heart skip a beat. A man that was on her level spiritually and all she got in return were excuses and broken hearts.

Women like her… How long does it take to get to know someone, fall in love, get married, by the time all that happens how many months, years have went by? The risk of pregnancies after thirty four or five were serious. I’m sure she thought those things because I thought about them for her.

Every time I knew she was crying, every time I knew she was disappointed, I thought about those things for her.

“The music business is breaking my heart, these men are breaking my heart and my co-workers all think I’m some sort of vixen but you want me to sing you a song?”

She stuffed some more fruit in her mouth, she was always cute when she was frustrated but I wouldn’t tell her that. Not now.

“She sent me a picture today.” When I thought about the picture I closed my eyes and tried to fight the image in my phone off my mind.

“Who sent you a picture?” She walked into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of wine out the fridge, I could hear her looking for a cork screw. “I’M LISTENING!”

“Someone that wants to break me, she sent me a picture of her with another man. I ignored it as best I could, well, maybe that’s not totally true. But I didn’t go off or anything. She sent the picture and at that moment I could have killed her, I could have killed anyone.”

She came back in the room with the bottle, “No glasses?”

“We’re doing it hood style tonight, it looks like we both need a drink!” She took the bottle to the head and then passed it to me. “Finish the story.”

“I went to this bar by my job, I ordered a double shot of Hennessy and I had every intention on drinking until I passed out. The glass sat in front of me for about twenty minutes and then I paid for it and left. She doesn’t deserve me, I’m not going to fuck my life up over a woman that doesn’t want me. No matter how I feel when I’m around her. That’s what I want you to understand. These guys that have you feeling this way, they don’t deserve you. I can’t promise that you’ll find this perfect man and fall in love tomorrow. But I can promise you that you’re too good of a person to be alone for much longer. So stop feeling sorry for yourself and sing me a song pretty girl.”

She took the bottle from me and kissed me on the lips. It wasn’t sensual or romantic, it was simple and friendly.

“Thank you. I don’t know if I believe you but I know you mean everything you’re saying. And I don’t know why she did what she did but you should forgive her if you really love her. Women just leave men alone when they’re through with them, they don’t do shit to antagonize them. Believe me.”

She moved her hair from her face and put the bottle on the piano.

“I haven’t sung this song in a long time, I used to listen to it with my mom when I was a kid. I think Donny Hathaway was my first crush. Go stand by the window, I sound better from a little distance.”

Always the performer, I took the bottle and went and sit on the floor by the window.

I’ve been so many places in my life and time

I’ve sung a lot of songs I’ve made some bad rhyme

I’ve acted out my love in stages

With ten thousand people watching

But we’re alone now and I’m singing this song for you

I know your image of me is what I hope to be

I’ve treated you unkindly but darlin’ can’t you see

There’s no one more important to me

Darlin’ can’t you please see through me

Cause we’re alone now and I’m singing this song for you

You taught me precious secrets of the truth witholding nothing

You came out in front and I was hiding

But now I’m so much better and if my words don’t come together

Listen to the melody cause my love is in there hiding

I don’t think she realized how much the words she was singing reflected this moment, reflected what I really wanted her to say. Maybe she did, maybe she didn’t, either way her voice was beautiful and if we never became anything more. I knew that she would always be my friend and in this life, that was a damn good consolation prize. I stood up and clapped, she stood up and took a bow. The way my shirt clinged to her body, I knew we needed to get out the house.

“Get dressed, we can’t sit around feeling sorry for ourselves. Let’s go to the grocery store, I’ll cook you dinner tonight but only if you sing me another song before bed.”

She walked over and hugged me, “That’s a deal but I get to make dessert! I’m a beast when it comes to Pillsbury Cookies and Ice Cream.”

She walked off to get dressed and watching her glide across the floor, those pretty feet leaving the room. I knew we would both be alright.