All I Needed to Know About Life, I Learned Before Kindergarten

I think that most lessons that I needed to learn for life, I learned by Kindergarten.  I did not go to preschool. I stayed instead at my grandmother's house while my newly single mom worked. I watched The Young & The Restless. I watched Mr. Rogers and Sesame Street. I practiced counting with my good friend The Count from Sesame Street and I learned shapes and colors from my granny.

I learned that you cannot make a square peg fit into a round hole. If it does not fit, you cannot force it. I believe I picked that up on Sesame Street.  Or maybe that was from the game Perfection. I cannot really be sure.

I learned that only one person should talk at a time otherwise no one was being heard. I also learned by watching my mom then nothing is more important than taking care of your household first. That means it all I do is dedicated to my daughter. Anything else that comes along falls in line after that. If that is a problem for anyone, then they can continue on about about their way. I put nothing in front of my house because no one would foresake theirs for me.

I also learned by Kindergarten that I like to play outside. I liked to play with other kids. I liked dirt. I enjoyed playing with Barbies.  Therefore I learned to cultivate a variety of interests. I don't rely on one person from my source of entertainment or my connection to the world. It becomes really sad to me when people don't have any outside interests other than their significant other or spouse.

So with these things in mind, I have come to assess the state of my relationship. If you must choose between me and someone else -- by all means -- pick the other person. I am not a choice to be made. You just don't happen upon people like me every day.

That's What Friends Are For (man, I hate that song)

When you have a friend as long as I've had a friend, you know one another's idiosyncrasies.  You know when the person is happy, when they are sad, and when they are pissed beyond all belief. Well, it saddens me to see my best friend frustrated.  And as I ponder her situation, I cannot help but notice my own.

Understand that I still believe in fairy tales. I still believe that there is the perfect person for me out there. I still want to see other people's marriages and relationships be fruitful. It gives me hope. It lets me know the world is not as cruel as it can be.

When I look at my past, and all of the scattered the rubble of relationships past, I often wonder why I am not able to find the perfect person for me just yet. The person that will share my bed every night and snuggle.  The person who will make coffee in the morning and rile me out of bed.

But then I look at others and have always taken comfort knowing that they found their person. So surely mine just must be wandering about looking for me. That sounds really good, but clearly the muthafucka is lost and has no sense of direction.  Nor does he have GPS on his phone.  In this day and age, who doesn't have GPS on their phone?  I digress...

I've dated a guy for little over a year and in that year, there has been lots of fun, lots of bullshit, and lots of memories made.  Problem is, I wonder if he is the one.  You know that mythical one that I'm supposed to ride off into the sunset with who understands me better than the rest of the world.  I'm not so sure, but day to day, I make the best of it.

After consulting with my very own relationship guru, also known as my cousin, I lamented that this had just been a tremendous waste of time.  She corrected me and noted that I had fun and so there was no waste there.  I tell myself that she's right even if I am not so convinced myself.  A girl's got to believe in something, right?

Help! I smell smoke: How I was able to break out of my shell and attract the man I'm seeing

There's something to be said about not being a shivering waif waiting for someone to speak up for you.  I'm single.  So much so, I've forgotten what it's like to have a steady companion aside from my daughter.  But one day, I decided to stop waiting for a man to speak to me and show interest.  After all, that method didn't seem to be working for me.

The last man that showed interest, after about a month and some change of dating straight disappeared.  I'm talking that Harry Houdini himself would have been amazed at how crazy the shit was when it happened.  I figured at that point that I was slipping.  I expressed my concerns to a couple of my friends when I had a gut feeling that something was amiss and they said I was basically paranoid.  But when he vanished.  I knew.  And I was pissed.  I was pissed because I let my guard down and suspended my disbelief only to be disappointed.

Then there was the man before that.  He was my companion of all of a year.  I'd overlooked a few key things: the hatred in his heart for his ex wife, the gas and lights at his home being shutoff, and his perpetual need to prove that he could sustain a business -- even when it was painfully clear that he could not.  But the final straw was how clear I could see his character when my mother died.  That was it.  Check please.  I'm outta here.  And I was gone.

So flash forward to today.  I'm leaner, meaner and a lot more discerning about who is allowed to call my home and say that they are interested in a date.  I've for the most part, laid back and watched and waited someone I was interested in, not just the lucky dude who flags me down.  I could hear my cousin's voice saying you better stop waiting on them to say something to you.

I was sauntering out of my condo on afternoon, sundress and natural puff of curls blowing in the breeze when what to my eyes should appear?  Not one, two or three firefighters.  Four!  I said hello and there was one.  Our eyes caught and his hello seemed just a tad friendlier than the others.  So I locked onto his glaze and smiled.  But I had my daughter with me.  That's a no go.  I don't flirt with her in view.  But what was I to do?

He was handsome with his rugged exterior and twinkling eyes.  Well, I did what any girl would do.  I proceeded to the gas station.  After all, I was low on gas.  As soon as I stepped out of my SUV, I calmly called the gatehouse at my condo.  I asked the security officer if the fire department was still there and she said yes.  So I asked her to convey a phone number to Mr. Twinkly Eyes and I heard her as she gave him my name and phone number.  Later that night, I had a text of him introducing himself and my heart almost jumped out of my chest.

Well. that was at the tail end of July.  I am happy to report that I've been seeing him pretty much ever since and there is something to be said for taking a hell of a chance.  He makes me feel extra girly and he's an unparalleled cook.  Who knew?  Well, I wouldn't have, had I not said a simple hello that afternoon...

Looking back on Love (with respect to Lenny Kravitz)

"Looking back on love through a broken, old TV..."

I am beginning to wonder if I have ever really known love as an adult.  I can see my relationships clearly now that they have expired and I am beginning to wonder if I've ever been in love for the right reason and at the same time as I was loved by someone else.  When I think of my most recent relationship -- which has been dead for almost two years -- I clearly see someone going above and beyond to make sure that my every need was met.  If I cleared my throat there was water.  If I rubbed my neck, firm hands would massage my shoulders easing away tension.  And sex? Oh please! It was of Olympian portions.  But did I love him, too?  Did he love me fully the way I needed to be loved? The way I needed my daughter to be loved?  I'm not so sure and that's why he is in the rear view.

"Looking back on love though the faces have all changed..."

My daughter sprang forth from the love I had for her father when he was a seventh grader and i was a  sixth grader.  We had been kids playing basketball in alleyways and walking the city carefree and young.  That later blossomed into a high school romance that would withstand absences caused by his stints in juvenile detention centers.  I didn't see him change because to me, we were still those same kids talking shit and hitting layups in the alley.  Problem was, he was a grown man and there were no traces of the small-statured boy I once loved.  He was a monster, yet I was fiercely in love with the ghost of his twelve-year-old self.  He was an abuser, liar, and cheater, but I didn't see him.  What I saw was the same little boy who wrote me a stack of letters so high that I had to ribbon them together to make certain that none were lost.  That boy was dead.    So what's a girl to do?

"I should be running / like a baby I still crawl..."

So here I am years later and what have I learned?  I don't really have a ravenous dating life as some would assume and you can catch me at home watching Matlock wearing my sexy, satin bonnet.  I would like to date, but I am not so certain that the man I need really exists.  It's almost like I've seen glimpses of what I like and need in the last one.  But, alas, even he was broken.  Content with using me once I offered my kindness.  So now, I am suspicious. Like the Vietnam veteran's child I am, I lay in wait for the first sign of suspect behavior with my twig helmet on ready to make a full- blown army crawl the hell out....