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Until the Next Time…Good-bye for Now


NOTE TO ANY MAN I DATE IN THE FUTURE: You must be willing to leave your uneaten food at the table, walk to the car parked a few blocks away, to go get your phone charger, so that you can take pictures of me, if that is my desire. Yes…my pedestal for what I expect out of my future man has risen even higher! But don’t blame me…blame him.

The him that causes me to smile that comfortable, easy smile, shared between friends and past lovers. The him that can pull off a hot pink dress shirt, brown slacks, and brown and pink matching socks to complete the outfit. He looked good.

We argued on the way to the restaurant because he was late, had no idea where he was going, and I was hungry. After 7 years, some things never change. We talked, we laughed, we took pictures and teased each other about who was the more conceited one out of the two of us. After looking through the pics on his phone, the evidence was clear that it was him.

We don’t always get along and barely agree on anything, but for some reason we have remained in each other’s lives, despite a short-lived romance that was more down than up. We don’t have much in common, don’t share the same circle of friends, and haven’t even made time to see each other, yet for some reason I know his number will never be deleted from my phone. My friends sometimes wonder why I put up with his snarky remarks and uncensored comments. It’s for the same reason I still am close with my high school friends, still keep in touch with folks from college…I like having someone in my life who can appreciate the woman I have become, because they once knew the girl I was. He is one of the few guys out there, who knows how I voted during the presidential election of 2004, who knows what I looked like in pictures that I have long since deleted from Facebook, and who will proudly acknowledge my success because he once helped me complete homework assignments.

He has a good head on his shoulder and a good heart. Someday he will learn to love a woman who will put up with his weird disdain for water, Michael Jackson obsession, and conceited mirror loving ways.  If they are blessed enough to have children, he will be the most devoted and loving father. That wife and mother won’t be me…but it was nice to know, that at one time it could have been.

We haven’t spoken since that dinner and he is moving to Atlanta, Georgia…this time for the right reasons. If our history is any indication, it will be months, maybe years before we speak or ever see each other again. But the last text he sent me said, “If my wife doesn’t mind, you will be invited to my wedding.” I will take that, as an early invitation. Until then, good-bye for now and take care.

When the Past Calls…Send it to Voicemail


They say, when the past calls, send it to voicemail…and I did. I really did. But that did not stop the jolt of emotion that ran from my phone through my hands, up my arms and into my heart.

They say, some people come into your life for a season…or for a reason. You were a lesson… like a hope for more, that never happened.

I went to salsa night to dance my cares away…and tried to dance you out of my system in hopes that you would seep out of me like the sweat that collected on my forehead. I tried to lose myself in the drums in hopes that they would drown out the sound of my pounding heart…but they didn’t.

I met men who made love to me with their eyes and with mouths…that formed words which made the English language sound more beautiful than it was ever meant to sound. But still…it did not erase the sound of yours. That voicemail lingered in the back of my head. Your voiced called to me like a flower searching for a ray of sun on a cloudy day. So I finally listened. You still sound as sexy as ever. I should delete your voicemail so I can erase the chains that I have allowed you to construct around me. I tried. I really tried, but I could not bring myself to do it…just yet. Maybe tomorrow…or next week…I will be ready to erase the sound of deep, rich caramel dripping into my ear.

But at least I didn’t call you back…hooray for small victories. I tell myself I am saving your voice for a rainy day…because I know there will be plenty of those to come. And on lonely nights when my fingers are itching to dial your number…I will just call my voicemail instead. And one day…I don’t know when…but I know it will be soon…your calls will no longer be like gravity pulling me into the past.