I’m currently listening to a lot of love songs.
Not because I am in love or anything. But I am still getting over a rough year of romantic disappointments. I am listening to love songs because they are helping me to relax as I sit on my caffeine high an’ shit.
And as I am listening to one of the greats, Rihanna, sing about Same Ol’ Mistakes; it’s making me think about something: Damn. I am never allowed to love. Not by the men who continue to reject my advances of giving them my heart, but by society. My friends. My associates. Everyone has a fuckin opinion.
The new trend in dismissing my feelings has caused a hiatus between me and my sister wife. In response to a love affair with another far away man, she expressed her disappointment by saying “you can’t find someone that’s closer to do this with?” I was taken aback and tried to address the commentary civilly, but was accused of “attacking everything.” I guess we can only support friends who are upset about being hurt by failed love if the love interest lives around the corner. Otherwise, support retracted. Save the hurt from disappointment and high hopes for the locals hun. We all know true romance can’t happen when people live far from each other.
In my 20s if I met him on the bus, because he was driving one, I was told I didn’t have any standards. I’d date anyone.
Met him while walking down the street, while doing laundry, at the club, ’round the way: I should have known better than to be meeting men like that. There is a way to do this and that ain’t it.
When he was closer to me, I was asked to get over it, cause you know, I am better than that. I mean, I am. But can I grieve?
If I fucked him too fast: I was a slut and needed to “stop giving up my stuff!” Clearly I had ruined potentially great relationships by thinking having sex with a man was something we both wanted and could mutually share. Boy was I wrong.
If I tried to keep it my pants: he would get upset with me and leave. But not before insulting me. One guy, whom I knew for several years prior to us attempting to have sex, got so upset with me he started calling me the slut. “She is as easy as ABC, 123.” We never, ever had sex.
A doctor: I was out of my league.
Young: I should have known better.
Married: The invisible paper says you can’t break through the barrier.
Found out he was in a relationship and it crushed me: You have shitty taste in men. Why do you keep choosing these men (that exist in astronomical numbers and are incredibly hard to avoid meeting?)
One night stand that you just didn’t want to waste your time on, cause you know how this goes: Aw you shoulda tried! And get my fuckin feelings hurt again! nah. Then I am accused of giving up rather than, I don’t know, reading the fuckin tea leaves.
And one of the great kickers was hearing I had issues because anytime I needed some healing and guidance was because of heartbreak. I mean the nerve of me to love freely, openly, without judgment and expect love and respect in return. And when I don’t and it crushes me, I have salt rubbed in my wounds. I should have known better than to love. Silly human girl.
And if he was a client: I crossed the line of no return. Cause lord knows the men that walk into my room for love and sexual pleasure are completely off limits! There is no way my stone-cold robotic heart should even look at these people as humans even if I connected with them on a human level.
Too poor: Why you keep picking these broke mofos? I mean I thought love was an important factor. SIGH. Struggle love isn’t cute and I am way over this one myself.
He got money: Better have your own. And these money men are a force to be reckoned with. Play your cards right or get played. They got money. They don’t have time for you.
Too many abs: I mean girl. Look at how many abs he has. He is way to focused on that body to be concerned with you.
One isn’t a lonely number. I flourish in one! But it amazes me the different ways and types of men I have tried to love and was never able to get it right. But more importantly wasn’t allowed to mourn the failure with some sort of judgment coming form one way or the next. It’s interesting when you look back and think about it all. If you are not allowed to love anyone, but the one person who is suppose to be the magic one, then why did all these other mfkz come in the picture for?
Better yet. How is your utopia? Why the fuck are you behaving like it’s such a bad thing that I love? Sometimes I love good. And sometimes I love bad. Well, I can’t say I’ve loved good almost ever. But am I not worthy of even the effort. Sheesh.