Still Too Young and Dumb to Call It Quits...

It's nearly 2:30 AM and once again I find myself revisiting one of my favorite songs of all time, Jean Grae's "Love Song." I'm trying to remember who put me onto the song initially, but I'm thinking it was someone in a facebook group I was apart of once.

The song, in case you've never heard it, is Jean telling the story of three different girls - though either (both?) of the latter two could be Jean herself - who've struggled in their romantic endeavors, thinking they've got what they wanted, learning otherwise, and trying to keep persevering throughout. Each of the song's initial two verses concludes with the lines, "Still too young and dumb to call it quits," as if to say the person is still too young and hence still too optimistic (which then makes them "too dumb") about the prospect of finding love.

With mere weeks until I turn 28, I find myself relating even more than ever to Jean's song. It used to be because I felt like I was definitely the guy Jean describes in the song's second verse - the guy who's "sweet and honest" but who eventually loses the girl to his best friend because the girl thinks he's more focused on his work than he is on her. I've for the most part purposely kept myself outside of the dating pool this year because I said I wanted to focus on getting myself in order. That doesn't mean that I haven't been interested in people, or that I haven't tried to hang out with young women. Rather, I haven't truly invested myself the way I have in the past in anyone. It helps, perhaps, that I've found an alternative albeit not ideal outlet to direct my feelings and desires for companionship towards, but nothing can replace the real thing.

But what, exactly, IS "the real thing?" At 27 and 28, arguably, nobody takes you at face value anymore. Nobody's really checking for who you are as a person. Instead, the opposite sex is checking for WHERE you are as a person. Are you upwardly mobile? Do you have your own spot? Do you seem to be taking strides towards financial independence and stability? Do you look like you handle your responsibilities? Do you look like a husband? Do you look like a good father? These things matter much later down the line when you start getting up in years like I am.

"Growing, but hopelessly romantic still..."

This causes you to question the genuineness of the opposite sex. If you strip away all the surface dressing, would someone really be checking for me? Now that I have a car, a decent job where I have some kinda income, it's possible that I could enter the dating arena as some kind of contender. But my concern is, I couldn't contend before I had all that. It's interesting. At 28, I'm more scared of ending up alone than ever but more than I am scared that I'll be single forever, I'm terrified that someone will have to "learn" to love me.

"Trying not to have a shallow heart/ But battle scars are deep but reach into the depth of hell and back..."

It shouldn't be that way. Someone shouldn't feel like they have to settle on you because you offer them - and, by extension, a potential family - the best chance at "succeeding" in life. So they marry you because what you have gives them hope, and hopefully over time, they'll learn to love the real you. I'm sure I'm speaking from a jaded place, but at the same time, I know what I'm saying makes some kind of sense. How do make someone, as Jean raps in the song, "your universe, holding the center position" if you can't trust their motives? Why would you make someone your universe if they never thought you were a star before the shine came? Does this mean they're lowkey rooting for you to fail and prove them right in being incompatible for them?

"But it takes some time to realize your own worth/ Come into your own/ Play your mental rebirth..."

I know that my self-confidence and trust issues still require plenty of work. I had hoped the latter, at least, would change as I got older. It has... slowly but surely... like at a snail's pace... improved. With every rejection, it took a hit, but I'm still asking. And with every rejection, I've changed the way I've gone about in asking someone out or attempting to court someone. I'm a hopeless romantic at my core. When I drive around Houston, I take note of places that would be nice to take someone on a date on, or places that might be nice to give a proposal in front of. I still believe in good morning texts and just because gifts and flowers on doorstep - though I don't believe in flowers because they die easily - and cooking dinner for her when she lands it on her presentation, promotion, or with her students... yet I worry that I'm losing a little more faith in these things every day.

I don't know when I'll get my shot to be "that guy" for some woman someday. It may never come. I may never find "her." But I, too, "grew up believing in passion and love." And at 28, I'm still too young and dumb to call it quits. There are no consolation prizes or participation trophies in love, and there shouldn't be. But just once, I'd like to feel what it's like to win. In 2014? Who knows... I'm still writing my own love song.

About "Being Wanted" and The Journalist I Let Go Of

If there's one thing I hate more than anything, it's not being wanted. 

For the longest time, I always felt like that. Hell, in a sense, I still very much do. It's the unfortunate byproduct of being the guy who has friends that girls always compliment. I've certainly never had the privilege of being one of those guys who girls is say is "fine as shit" or who gets talked about because he looks good. I envy that so much. Seriously. I would kill to have been considered super attractive like most of my homeboys are, but that's never been me. It may be one day, when I have money... because money makes people attractive.

If I were honest, though, I can't say that I wasn't wanted. I can only say that the people who at least appeared attracted to me, I never wanted them back. For whatever reason.

A conversation that was brought on partially by twitter and partially by a group that I am in on facebook, referenced the idea of what "counted" as a date, and this in turn led to dates on which you might cook for someone or someone might cook for you. I was reminded of one girl in particular, the first girl, in fact, who cooked for me.

We'll call her Jessica to protect the innocent.

Back in our undergraduate years at UT, Jessica, much like I did, started out trying her damnedest to make some kind of mark on the UT Black Community. My niche was appearing to be a leader in public, but J's battle was a little different. She wanted to be a leader in print. Specifically, she aspired to be a journalist, although it was clear that she was interested in politics as well. Not necessarily to participate directly in them, so much as to serve as a commentator of and about them. She tried to get involved with efforts to reinvigorate the UT Chapter of the National Association of Black Journalists, but this ultimately fell apart. That didn't stop Jessica. Indeed, her ambition was one of the things that attracted people to her, professionally and, I'm sure, romantically as well.

Jessica and I had been friends. We didn't have a super close relationship like that, but whenever I saw her in public, she seemed elated to see me and I admit it was often good seeing her. We also often had great conversations, usually related to campus issues or things affecting Black people at the time. But we both stayed busy.

My first senior year, back in 2008, Jessica did something that completely caught me off-guard. She offered to cook for me. At the time, I had been heavily interested in someone else so I didn't exactly know what that entailed. I had thought that it was just a friendly offering of a sort, and I even offered to cook the dessert so she wouldn't have to do all the work. My laziness, coupled with my obliviousness, resulted in me just buying a frozen strawberry pie from the grocery store at the last minute as my contribution.

So she comes to my apartment. And it's convenient that this weekend, of all weekends, my roommate is actually out of town. So it's just the two of us, and it's about 7:30, 8 PM at night. She calls to let me know she's arrived, and I go downstairs to help her out because she has a few pots and a baking dish. We bring everything upstairs to the apartment and she has everything pretty much pre-prepared, but just has to reheat the broccoli and her chicken dish. I helped her out a little bit, following her instructions to rinse, stir, add water, and the like. The dinner is cooked, we eat, we talk. Mostly minimal conversation about how school is going, graduation that was looming (back when we both thought we might graduate on time), and plans for the future. Jessica had apparently deduced my interest in politics, because she name-dropped some gathering that she was looking into that a statesman was hosting in the city later on that year. I did the dishes for her since she cooked. She gave her a mini-tour of the apartment, she got to see the mess that was my room (though I'd straightened it up, as all men do when they have female company visiting), and I also showed her my movie collection. Jessica noticed that I had "New Jack City" and she said she'd never seen it before. So we decided to watch it together.

We sat on the couch watching it in the dark the whole time. Her sitting very close to me, shoulder to shoulder and leaning her head over. I didn't try anything. I was a gentleman - not just because I respected Jessica, but also because I'd never been in that kind of situation before. And there was also the fact that, admittedly, I hadn't been attracted to her physically. She had a great mind and big plans, and a very bright spirit. But I just wasn't feeling her like that.

The movie ended, and that was that. I walked her out to her car and told her to text me when she got back home safely. We didn't really keep in too much touch after that night, honestly. Now that I'm older, I can see the signs. Now that I'm older, I know that, in college, with a young woman like that (who isn't about games, or flaunting herself sexually), being cooked for is a big deal. Hell, even outside of college once you reach my age, a woman cooking for you is a big deal. I know now that that was a date. I know now that possibly, Jessica was interested in me. As in legitimately interested and attracted to me.

If I had "liked her back," I can't say I would have done things. I can't say I would have wrapped an arm around her shoulder. I can't say I would have tried to kiss her in the dark or something like that. Like I said, back then, when I was 22 and still a virgin, with no experience with women at all... that whole thing was new to me. But now that I'm older, I see the signs. And it's a shame that I wasn't feeling her back. I have no idea what she's doing these days, but I know whatever she's doing, she's laying a foundation to be something big. Likely a political correspondent of some sort.

So I can't say I was never wanted, I guess. But it would have been nice to be liked by someone I actually wanted back. Maybe one day. Maybe one day.

About Taylor's Moms And Keeping Watch

At what point does my being "watchful" evolve into stalking? Or my occasional check-ins start to border on the pathetic? I wonder if I'm slightly just in denial. Telling myself that she values my friendship when, in reality, she might only appreciate my presence when it's convenient.

"Convenient." One of my homeboys is writing a book at the moment that's focused on relationships and he's been kind enough to let me take a look at some of the early chapters. The most recent one he sent me was about "The Friend Zone" - that not-so-coveted position one finds themselves in when they are friends with another person who they catch feelings for, but the feelings aren't mutual on the other end. He wrote that women in general take advantage of men who are "too available," and that being too available is an express route to being friend zoned.

I usually take a lot of pride in being the person who people can come to when they need something. My female friends, especially. I once wrote in an entry that I appreciated my female friends being able to come to me when they needed anything. I understood that that often meant I might be friend-boxed, but I liked knowing that I was that trustworthy and that they felt they could share things with me that they might not have shared with a good majority of other people. But having read my friend's chapter, I'm strongly reconsidering my "availability."

The Leo who I struggled to get over for the better part of almost two years, who I wrote about here, I literally waned myself off of consistent communication with her. That was necessary. Difficult but necessary, because I knew maintaining a friendship with someone I wanted so much more with would be very hard. I have interacted with her a couple of times but not nearly as frequently as I used to. And it was funny a little because when I started being hard to reach, she started doing the most to get in touch with me. But she got engaged this year... and she made a great effort to let me know, even inviting me to her engagement dinner. I didn't go; not so much because I felt some kinda way about it (though I'd be lying if I said I didn't at all) but because I didn't see the point. There was a time when I literally checked in on her, via her facebook and twitter - I watched to see how she was doing, what she was tweeting about, and so on. Not so much anymore.

But bringing this full circle to what prompted my questions at the start of this entry, that same watchful eye of mine rolled over to another recent failure of mine, another girl I tried to go after but who I just wasn't a fit for. lol I have a bad habit of recent, it seems, of being interested in girls with a ratchet side and she had that, but she was also very... she had a light about her. That's what attracted me to her. She moved to Houston. I attempted to build something with her as minimally as I could. It didn't pan out. After she got in a tight spot, I helped her fly back to her home state. I didn't feel entitled to anything. But then I hadn't expected to catch feelings for her the way that I did.

I ask her friends in Florida about her, friends who I developed a rapport with because of her. And I read her writings, I read her tweets. Sometimes I'll follow them. I'll bite back jealousy when she mentions dudes because it's just twitter and there's literally nothing I can do states away. I see the pictures she posts - she models... no, seriously - and she looks gorgeous. She comes to me when she wants to vent occasionally and I do appreciate that. I try to encourage her but also be real with her. The irony is that her friends want me to come down to Florida this summer; I likely won't see her. It'd be nice but it's clear that she won't see me as more than a friend regardless.

So, I ask myself if that kind of "breakaway" will be necessary for her. Maybe my inner masochist "likes" the torture - likes knowing that I can't have her but that I still look out for her like she means something to me (because she does). I hope it isn't necessary. I just hope this isn't creepy or stalkerish to continue to keep watch of her progress.

If only I were more of a street n*gga. lol

The Ride... Or Leaving Your Friends Behind

"You won't feel me until everybody say they love you, but it's not love..."

It's nearly 3 in the morning here in Missouri City, Texas. I'm epically behind on schoolwork that I don't feel like doing, unmotivated, discouraged, and my thoughts are flying all over the place. Primarily because I've had something on my mind for a minute. I got pretty good at holding in vents or my feelings for a while but with so much coming at me now, I feel compelled to unload.

As has become a sort of custom for me, I gave up social networking for Lent. That meant no twitter and no facebook from mid-February on through the last day of March. It's something I do to check myself because I spend a lot of time on social media - I still do, in some ways - and this was the first time that I'd opted to give up both twitter AND facebook (I usually give up one but continue to interact with the other).

A group of friends that I've had since my UT years and I are part of a facebook circle called "The Thread." It's ultimately just a place for us to bullshit but also discuss issues, exchange laughs, personal news, and the like. Shortly before I went on my fast this year, a funny thing happened on The Thread.

My "friends" held what they called "a Bradford roast." I was used to the occasional slander and being poked fun at every now and then on The Thread - for example, there's a running nickname I was "given," "13radford," which mocks my lack of sports knowledge and the fact that I'm wordy - and I could always count on it coming from certain people on there. In this particular occasion, the "roast" was propelled forward by two people I thought were always in my corner when it came to the ridiculing. One of which made the claim that the "Bradford roast" was essentially her "revenge" for me poking fun at her in what I felt was particularly harmless joke.

"... [You] tellin' stories that nobody relate to..."

It was interesting to see my so-called friends bring up so many stories and past memories about me, most specifically about my failed attempts in love. It was interesting to see my so-called friends reference my grandfather in jest. It was interesting to see my so-called friend bring up my failure in one class that we shared together and to reference my failed attempt to holler at her homegirl by bringing her coffee at her job. It was interesting to see a so-called friend whose opinion I valued greatly completely dismantle my attempt to get a girl who, in retrospect, really was "out of my league" and quite stuck up. I watched as a so-called friend really pulled up a graduation picture of myself and a female friend and tore how I looked to shreds. The whole thing was... incredible to witness. It was like watching people who I trusted, whose opinions I valued, who I did care about, completely rip me to shreds.

So-called friends who followed my writings and claimed to support them... claimed to support me... when in reality, it seemed they had no absolutely no respect for the person I was. I laughed because it literally was all I could do to keep from crying. I recalled a conversation that I'd had with another friend a few years back who had, in a sense, "warned" me or attempted to warn me about how those in The Thread may have talked about me. I ignored it. I was foolishly loyal because I just knew MY friends, wouldn't do me like that.

It was convenient, in a sense, that Lent began the day after that "Bradford roast." I was able to take a break from it all, but their words stayed with me. How do you vent about something like that? You don't want to be the guy who "can't take a joke" but at the same time, when you're made to FEEL like a joke, how do you respond to that?Ironically, though I was off facebook, I still had text notifications being sent to my phone about The Thread's conversations... and interestingly enough, even while I was "gone," I was STILL being talked about in a negative light. Was it betrayal? Not really. They were just being honest about how they felt about me and I can't fault them for being honest. In every joke, there's always a little bit of truth.

After the roast was over, one of my so-called friends did send me an email apology, but I took it as completely reactive and so it wasn't sincere to me. I responded cordially. But I really beat myself up those 40 days wracking my brain as to whether the things they said had any merit. I assumed they did, since everyone cosigned them by either laughing along or adding to the roast. When I "returned" to The Thread on the Monday after Easter Sunday, I was given a "welcome" in a sense. But how can you accept a welcome in a place you no longer consider welcoming??

So, as I listen to Drake's song "The Ride," I reflect upon two things in particular. The first, is that this situation forced me to accept that things had changed. I didn't finish what I started at The University of Texas at Austin. And I was already subconsciously killing myself about that. I had felt that The Thread allowed me to at least retain my sense of community and my sense of connection to my UT people even though I wasn't alumni... though I'd always felt detached from them, like I was missing something they didn't have (and although one other person on The Thread didn't finish at UT either, he's still quite welcomed because everyone RESPECTS him). The roast affirmed that feeling of detachment for me - confirmed that I was right to believe that I was merely tolerated, and certainly no longer accepted, assuming I ever was.

The second, is that I may have outgrown them. I think you can care for someone so much or hold some people in such a high regard that, out of respect to them and the respect you have for them, you can't put up it with it when they feed you - pardon my language - bullshit. You HAVE to break away from them just so that the respect and love and admiration you had for them remains intact. Sometimes that means ending a friendship. I don't like ending friendships or cutting people off so that part will be difficult. But if I really expect to still like these people, then I can't allow them to just "tolerate" my presence. The masochist in me wants to stay just to further witness what will be said about me... to further witness the assaults on my character. If I were malicious, or perhaps even a bit more brave, I could have struck back. I could have blasted many of them - though not nearly with the same level of exposure - back just to feel better about myself, but hurt people hurt people and I've never been a revenge minded person (Damn, if I was, though...).

They don't feel me anymore. If they ever did at all. And thus, though my own loyalty should go without question, though I pride myself on being a ride or die... my "ride" with them, for the most part, appears to have ended.

"... and even though they hate you, they gon keep on sayin' that they feel you, nigga!..."