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21 more things = 42

The last post was the 21 things I KNOW at 42. At the end I said I'd consider writing 21 more things to make it 42 in total & then ...


It's the Magic Number

This time last year was so hectic for me. It wasn't that I was doing a lot, but there was a lot going on. I had a SERIOUS crush, had been excessed from my job, picked back up with the agreement to take on a different grade [that I've never been interested in], re-evaluating self in the context of friendships that have carried over from childhood to adulthood, learning how to be in the company of my ex, sacrificing in order to pay off debt, and doing a little Right Coast traveling to clear my head. Through it all, I managed to have what I thought was at least a semblance of peace--peace that was quickly shattered once the school year got under way.

This year, that crush is a joke to me. The mention of his name means nothing, the sight of him causes no butterfly wings in my belly, and there is nothing smoldering below. This man used to be so dynamic to me. So forward thinking. Ever evolving. Oh so fine. He had all, well many, of the right words to make me a Lady-in-Waiting, at least temporarily. Even caught up in all his glow, I knew there wasn't gon' be too much future in me waiting for him to make a grown man decision. Things got steamy and spicy, and we started baking pretzels. Any respectable woman (HA) knows you can't take that too far without knowing where a person stands. It's one thing to agree to get good and grown with it, but it's something else when a person is actively trying to sell you more. I let him know I was just about ready to smell what the rock was cooking, and he punked out. In my opinion, and that's all it is 'cause he ain't here to give his side of the story, he wanted a lot of what he was saying to me but there was a bigger untold truth in there somewhere that he never shared. No hard feelings. But I haven't been "on" like that since then, and I miss it a little bit. Ain't nothing like those firsts, even in your 30's a first kiss will make you giddy. Some things just don't change.

Now, I'm not thinkin' 'bout nobody. I pretended my way through trying to care, but I'm a really bad actress. I keep hearing about these women who are in a constant state of searching for a man. There are apparently legions of women who've never spent time alone, enjoying their own company. I can't remember a time I was ever in search of a man. My relationships have always happened organically, out of a mutual appreciation for each other. I can't imagine putting on a freak'em dress and my best war paint, tippin' on shoes that hurt, and hunting for a man on these urban streets. It ain't never been that serious. When I go to all that trouble, it's generally for me, and I will turn down every advance, not trusting that I'm being seen beyond how I've stacked it all up. And like Mos Def said, "'Can I buy you a drink' ain't really that original."

I've discovered that some see me as tragic. A 30-something woman with no husband or children can't possibly be happy. Au contraire. I am CONSCIOUSLY aware that I don't have anything to bring to the table right now. Oh, I'm a good catch. I'm attractive, educated, independent, make my own money, pay my own bills, everything you see on me is mine, healthy, active, talented, driven, without "baby daddy" drama, cook well, can sew if I have to, can keep a house, respect children... The list goes on and on. But I'm not interested in doing the work right now. I'm in my selfish phase. I don't want to remember to ask you how your day was. I don't want to be responsible for whether you eat. I don't want to be paraded before your family. I don't want to smell your cologne on my sofa when you leave. I don't feel like sharing the remote or listening to your music. I'm not ready to squeeze anyone else into my present program. Since it's by choice, where's the tragedy?

It really could be that I'm spoiled. I've got, and have always had, great male friends who have always cared for me and protected me. They've shared much of the truth about what men say vs what they mean to do. They've shown me what men will do for you when they care about you, even if they're not sleeping with you. I want for nothing, and maybe that's why I have no cause to be searching. I'm not sure if it's a good or bad thing how many choices women have now, but I'm exercising my right to choose wherever possible. Right now I don't think I'm ready, so I choose not to play along. One day, this too shall pass, and I'll be open to the possibilities. And just like now, the brotha I meet at the bookstore will have a far better chance of getting my math than the one I meet at the bar.

Standards always. Stranded never.

Watch me move.

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